Archive of Our Own ^beta

It wasn't Merlin's fault in the end really. It was on one of those days where fate decides to take you on a ride to hell (more like a slide, really) and you end up screwing up because of an unfortunate series of events. It had all began a week before, after Gaius had been sent out on a long-term quest to train physicians in the outer villages and help with a rare sickness that had been striking down field workers. Arthur believed it would take months, maybe a whole year for Gaius to train enough physicians for all the villages to regain medical and scientific independence. He had therefore hired a new court physician for the duration of Gaius' absence. He was younger than Gaius and thinner, yet he had the same long, grey hair, and wore the same style of physician robes. Mostly the sand-coloured ones that Merlin hated, though. One thing he didn't have in common with Gaius, thought, was a love and compassion for Merlin.

Merlin stood on the white stairs of Camelot's entrance whilst a member of the court helped Gaius to mount his horse. But Gaius didn't need the help as he was way stronger than he looked. When he was ready, Gaius lifted his head to meet Merlin's eyes.

"Make sure to do what Helias tells you to do. My absence is not a reason for you not to continue your physician apprenticeship after all, am I right, Merlin?"

"Of course not", said Merlin. He walked down the stairs to allow himself a more private conversation with Gaius.

"And don't get into trouble. I'd hate it if I came back to find out Arthur had gotten tired of you and fed you to his dogs." Merlin grinned with his most innocent smile.

"When do I ever get into trouble, Gaius?"

Gaius sighed exasperated. "Please, Merlin."

"Everything's going to be all right, Gaius. Helias won't hate me. Besides, I'm good at finding herbs. If he doesn't want me to help with patients, I can always run herb errands for him."

Gaius seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Goodbye, Merlin" he said finally, a fatherly tone to his voice. He lowered his voice somewhat. "Don't use your magic unnecessarily, Merlin. If something happen, remember I won't be there for you so please, promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise Gaius. Now go, so you can come back already!"

Finally Gaius left, his horse packed with goods and belongings. Never in a million years, would Merlin have thought this little change to his life would mark the beginning of the most horrible months he would ever live.

He spent the day trailing after Arthur because an important delegation, coming from a Northern kingdom, was due to arrive in the following week. Merlin could tell Arthur was nervous about it, as it was one of his first attempts at a peace treaty with this particular kingdom. The King was known to have values and rules that were stricter than any of the other kingdoms. To succeed in making an alliance, Arthur would have to show the King that Camelot had values similar to him and his kingdom, which wouldn't be too difficult considering they had strict laws already implanted against magic and crime. Nonetheless, Arthur was a dubious man, and everything had to be perfect or he would most certainly throw a tantrum, and most of the time, Merlin was the only one standing on the receiving end.

This, of course, is what happened. Arthur was dissatisfied with Merlin's polishing work on his ceremonial sword and chainmail, which he didn't find shiny at all, much like the sword, which he said looked like a "simpleton's sword". "I cannot wear a sword looking like it's been overused, Merlin" the King had said. Merlin didn't understand, because he always did them in the same way, but apparently right now it was not good enough. He was going to have to do them again and every day until the end of the week or until Arthur was finally contented.

It was a relief when Arthur dismissed him for the night. Maybe the new physician would let him go to sleep without bothering to ask him to help to organise the quarters.

How wrong he was.

He was greeted by the coldest of looks the moment he swung open the door. Here was Helias, looking at him as if he was an intruder. Merlin was taken aback, and it took him a moment to continue walking into the quarters, heading for his room.

"What, exactly, do you think you're doing?" He heard Helias say.

He could hear the disdain in the man's voice. He felt awkward for a moment, and Merlin considered answering with a sassy comment but he remembered Gaius's advice, to try and stay out of trouble, so he simply said:

"I'm going to my room. Arthur just dismissed me and I did all my chores. Sir."

Helias' arms were crossed over his chest. Merlin immediately got a feeling that he had done something wrong. He turned his back, climbed the set of stairs to his rooms, opened the door and stayed there, frozen on the spot.

His room was filled with boxes, bags, and books that didn't belong to him. On his bed was a different bed sheet than the one he had put on in the morning and his things were all tossed in the corner of the room, his old backpack balancing precariously on the top of it. The message was clear: Leave. Dumbstruck, Merlin still asked:

"I... don't understand?"

"Oh yes you do. I don't have a need for an assistant, I already have one. He's arriving tomorrow. Find somewhere else because I'm not going to be responsible for you. Nobody even told me about you and it's certainly not in my contract to take care of you."

"But..."

"Let it be clear: if you're not out of these quarters when I'm ready to go to bed, I'm calling for the guards."

Merlin couldn't restrain the stiff snort that came out of his mouth. "They won't listen to you. They know I live here."

"They will listen to me if I tell them I found you trying to steal potions and instruments of value from my personal belongings.

The physician lifted his chin and pursed his lips. And he waited. So Merlin did too.

"Now take your stuff, and get out."

"But where will I..."

"I don't care. Get out. GET OUT!"

The physician's voice was so loud it made Merlin jump. He turned on his feet clumsily, nearly knocking himself out climbing the stairs. He scrambled up the stairs quickly, his knees hitting them and he had to help himself using his hands to climb the last one. He stuffed his belongings into his bag, not even thinking about his wooden dragon, the staff, or the magical book that was hidden under the floorboard. Those would be lost until Gaius got back. If Gaius got back. In less than five minutes, he found himself out of the physician quarters. Alone. In the dark. There wasn't any moon in the night sky. It was pitch black. And full of shadows.

Where could he go? People would think he knew a lot of servants, since he served the King and everybody knew him. But the true was he didn't really know any servant well enough to knock on their door and ask for shelter. Well maybe Anna, one of the maids working in the laundry. However, she was married to a farmer, and they had many kids. There wouldn't be any place for him in their home. And with Arthur's foul mood during the evening, there was no way Merlin was going to tell him he had just been thrown out of his quarters. The physician had said it wasn't in his contract to shelter him and Arthur was the one who had dictated the terms of the contract. He probably already knew the physician had an apprentice and had just neglected or forgotten to tell Merlin. He had probably even assumed Merlin had found a new home already. And even if he didn't, he was in a foul mood and there was no way Merlin was turning to him for help. He would probably laugh or state the obvious and tell him to find a home of his own, that he was old enough, that he had enough money to do so (which wasn't true at all).

He wandered in the castle corridors. He came across a few night servants: a boy scrubbing the floor, a girl doing laundry, a stable boy... They gave him a smile, but didn't comment on the backpack. Maybe they were thinking he was preparing equipment for the following day.

How wrong they were.

Merlin turned a corner to an empty corridor. He didn't remember taking it very often. There weren't any windows and the few torches made a dim light. The corridor was narrow. Probably used by guards or servants in times of urgency. Otherwise, Merlin knew everybody preferred to take the corridors that had windows and didn't feel so claustrophobic. He walked slowly, stopping to listen. Nobody was near. Even the torches remained undisturbed by his presence. There was a small door a few feet away from where Merlin was standing, hidden in the shadows, between two flickering lights. He walked until he was in front of it and pushed at it. The door creaked, and opened. Not locked, then. It was a cupboard. Empty, except for a few dusty brooms and buckets. Big enough for him to lie on the floor and hide behind shelves in case someone entered it.

He dropped his bag. It looked like he had found his new quarters. For now, at least.

***

Merlin woke up to a dim light coming from a tiny window, which he hadn't noticed last night, on the wall opposite to the door. There were soft murmurs on the other side. Must be on a servant's corridor, Merlin thought.

And then panic took over his body. He jerked upright so fast his vision blurred for a few seconds. How long had he slept? He got the horrible feeling that he had overslept far more than he should have. He hid his belongings in the corner of the room and stormed out. He ran into the corridors to the kitchen, but the cupboard he had chosen was in the far, west wing of the castle and the kitchen was tucked between the laundry room and the servant's quarters in the east wing. Oh god, he hoped he wasn't as late as he thought he was.

Then he bumped into a noble. That wasn't good.

"Who do you think you are, boy?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I have to attend to the king, Sir!" Stammered Merlin without stopping.

And he ran without much decency.

When he got to the kitchen, the cook gave him a hard look. "I'm sorry I'm late – where is the King's breakfast?"

The cook exhaled, visibly annoyed, even disappointed. She was never disappointed like this by Merlin's punctuality; in fact they often had a joke about it before he finally headed off to find Arthur. He assumed she was stressed by the arrival of the Royal party and the feasts that were going to be occurring, over the next week.

"I told Cemdrys to get the breakfast to His Majesty. Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Er... No, actually." Merlin shifted, uncomfortable. "It's a long story."

"Well, I don't want to hear it. You should report to the King. It's not my job to shout after you, after all." And she got back to work, affectively ending the short conversation.

"But... what time is it, really?" asked Merlin, carefully.

"It's time for you to report to His Majesty. Now go Merlin, quick!"

So he stormed out of the room, not wanting to be any later than he already was, and he ran, disturbing various servants in the passage until he was in front of Arthur's chamber. There, he took his breath and, for the first time, in a long time, knocked. And he heard the familiar, annoyed, "Enter!" on the other side of the door. He flipped it open and entered, putting his hands behind his back to adopt the normal pose of a good servant.

"Sire." He said in a short breath.

Arthur was standing at his desk, looking at a dozen papers spread out all over it. His brows were tensed, forming lines in between them. He was stressed, Merlin could tell. He didn't know much about the kings that visited Camelot, but he could tell they were too important for Arthur to mess even the slightest detail up. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He knew the kings were of two kingdoms and were there to arrange a peace treaty that would put Camelot into an era of prosperity like never before. Even in Uther's time, negotiations with those kingdoms had failed.

And then Arthur spoke and Merlin wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

"Where the hell were you this morning? People have searched the entire castle to find you. " He still didn't look at Merlin, his papers worth more than his servant. "I need you to be present right now. The kings are arriving tomorrow, and I can't tolerate any sneaking out on your duties, Merlin."

And then he lifted his head, and met Merlin's eyes. Arthur's eyes were a deep blue, a blue that Merlin usually liked, but right now, they were as cold as ice. Culpability was growing inside of him and Merlin hated feeling like that. He does so many things for Arthur, that sometimes he doesn't consider washing a few shirts that important. Normally. Today, it's different. But then, Gaius had gone, Gwen was already on a similar mission as Gaius; Arthur believes the new Queen needs to be known to the people living outside Camelot, and the best way to do so is to send her talk to them directly, and help them personally for a while. Arthur rightly believe that then, the outer village will show stronger support to the kingdom and peace will be possible once more. The thing is, now that Gwen is queen and well, gone, Merlin realises he really doesn't know the other servants as much as he should. Arthur's voice rang out again and pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I asked you a question, Merlin. Choose your words carefully now, because I'm not in the mood for one of your ridiculous excuses."

And then Arthur stared severely. It wasn't as severe as the facial expressions Uther used to make, but it was strong enough to have an effect on Merlin. Well, sometimes. So Merlin shifted uncomfortably, moving his feet and biting his lips. He couldn't tell Arthur that he had been thrown out of the Physician quarters. Arthur had said he had sent people to fetch him in the morning; surely he was aware that he wasn't living there anymore and wasn't visibly disturbed by it. So he simply said:

"I overslept, My Lord."

Arthur made a cold smile. Those words weren't the ones he wanted to hear. Even if Merlin was being honest.

"Well, since you overslept, you're going to finish your duties later. Don't go thinking that you'll get your list of duties shortened." He took a piece of parchment and he threw it to Merlin. It fell to the floor, since Merlin was still standing near the door. Merlin looked, unsure, for a moment.

"What are you waiting for?"

Merlin quickly went to pick the up the sheet parchment and ran out of the room without much of a glance back at Arthur. He wished the King wouldn't be so nervous. It made him unbearable.

He did all his chores, like a good servant would do. He reported to Arthur, cleaning the chambers in silence. Arthur didn't make an attempt at conversation, like he sometimes did. He didn't even seem concerned by Merlin's... normality.

The treaty must really be something big for Arthur to act this way. It made Merlin sad, in a way. He liked the banter; he liked the sentiment of satisfaction when he saw the glimmer in Arthur's eyes that told him he was at ease with Merlin. That he felt normal when Merlin was there. Everybody wanted Arthur to be something, and made sure Arthur was aware of that. But Merlin? He just wanted Arthur to be who he was supposed to be, without frivolities or procedures. Without golden crowns or polite, mindless conversations.

Arthur was properly, really, meaningfully mad. He had a piece of parchment missing and Merlin was late. Again. He'd been constantly late, even if slightly less and less everyday, for the past five days. And everyday, he would come, make clear apologies about his punctuality, take the parchment with the list of chores, help Arthur in his clothes, and proceed on doing everything like he had to do. Arthur knew how to deal with a lot of things, but this, this, he didn't. So he made sure Merlin knew his work was appreciated by not arguing with him about his punctuality. Which really, he should mention to him, since the delegations were due to arrive sometime during the day. He knew Merlin would make an effort to look like a perfect servant, but the concern with his punctuality these last few days was a default that other kings would notice if it happened during the negotiations.

He heard the two knocks on the door, which had become familiar over the last few days. He resisted the urge to look up when he heard the door open and the familiar footsteps of Merlin on the marble floor.

"Sire."

Arthur did as everything was fine, as if Merlin wasn't late, as if he wasn't mad. Well, at least, he tried.

"Ah, Merlin. I have a piece of parchment missing and I remember asking you to make some order out of the papers on my desk yesterday. Care to tell me where you put it?"

"It must be with the other ones, Sire. I didn't put anything away. What was it about?"

"It was the list of servants coming along with the Royal party, to help organize their sheltering."

"Oh." Merlin's obliviousness to the urgency to the matter made the sympathetic mask drop off Arthur's face.

"Well find it you dimwit!"

For a second, Merlin looked shocked. He didn't say anything. And then he moved toward the desk, and looked at the papers. He searched the drawers, the cupboard next to the desk, even under the bed but he couldn't find it.

"Perhaps you've already given it to the person who's in charge of this, my lord."

"Well, go find that person and make sure he has the documents then!" Snapped Arthur. He turned his head to the window, and heard Merlin leave. He was fuming. And he didn't know why. He wasn't used to losing his temper. Even when he was younger, and he had been given a special tournament to celebrate his birthday, he had never lost his temper on a squire, or on anybody, for that matter. Except for Merlin, once, on the second day of his assignment. Merlin had been so slow to put Arthur's armor on he thought he would miss the tournament. Moreover, Merlin had kept chatting and chatting and since at that time Arthur hated Merlin he didn't care for what Merlin was talking about.

Merlin came back half an hour later to tell him everything was perfectly fine and all the coming servants had been listed and assigned a bed. Everything was all right. Merlin helped Arthur into his ceremonial robes, fastened his belt with his ceremonial sword on it, and put his Camelot seal on his chest. Arthur was properly stressed. Merlin seemed slow. Time seemed slow.

And then the sound of a horn was heard. The newly-formed Mercia delegation.

Arthur was out of his chambers in a flash of red and gold, asking for his knights to come into the main court, Merlin trailing somewhere behind.

In his apprehension of events, he hadn't noticed how exhausted Merlin was. He hadn't even noticed the grey shadows under the servant's eyes.

***

Merlin was standing at the bottom of the staircase forming a line with the other servants to greet the delegations, like any other good servants would do. Normally, Merlin would've been at the top of the stairs, with the knights and Gaius. Except Gaius wasn't there anymore, and Helias didn't even bother pretending to know him when they met in the corridors. The man acted as though he never existed and he had even taken on a new apprentice, a twelve year old boy named Gary, who lived in the lower town. Cheap labour, Merlin thought. The man didn't want to feed anybody that would require more food than a child.

Arthur was standing on the staircase in front of the entrance with his knights. They were all wearing their ceremonial attire and they were positioned in the usual welcoming formation. Leon and Elyan were at Arthur's right and Gwaine and Percival were at his left. All the other knights, Merlin didn't really know them. The other servants at Merlin's side were nervous, agitated. But Merlin, he was too tired to care.

It turned out sleeping on a cupboard floor wasn't providing the same amount of sleep and comfort Merlin needed and had been accustomed to. He slept in fear of oversleeping and being late for Arthur, so in the end he ended up not sleeping much and tried not being too late. He had some difficulties eating, since he didn't have access to cooking equipment, like a fire, since he had been kicked out of the physician quarters. That's not with counting how bloody cold the west wing was. He had managed to cook some of the vegetables and even the chicken he had bought at the market three days ago in the kitchens. The cook had finally relented, allowing him to use her kitchen, but not without seriously questioning his reasons. He had to tell her that Helias was too busy with patients and he didn't want to disturb him since he was new to the whole "court physician" thing. So he had some leftovers he had been slowly eating over the last few days. The salary he made as Arthur's manservant would probably allow him to rent a room in a tavern, or even in a shelter house, where the owners would give someone a room in exchange for money or services. But he wasn't ready to move out of the castle, just yet, not with the arrival of the delegations. He knew he couldn't trust Arthur to be on his own with that many strangers around him. No matter how great Arthur was, there were things he simply couldn't see, or know. Like everything going on in the servant quarters, or how the steward liked to punish servants he disliked more than the other ones.

Arthur's voice pulled him out of his thoughts:

"We dearly welcome you to Camelot, King Myrddin of Mercia!"

Merlin couldn't really see Arthur from where he was standing but he could certainly see the Mercia delegation arriving in the courtyard. They were dressed in deep green: the new colors of Mercia. Of course, Cenred's reign hadn't done a lot to make the image of monarchy a good one. They had to change everything, now, and changing the colors of the kingdom was the first step. Making an alliance with Camelot was probably the second.

The whole welcome ceremony in the courtyard lasted about half an hour. Queen Annis' and Princess Mithian's delegation, on behalf of her father, also arrived. When all the Kings, Queens, Princesses, Princes, and nobles were inside the castle, the servants started to run to their chores, especially the cook. She was muttering quite loudly about 'how stupid' those ceremonies were and 'how much work she had to do', and how 'she hoped none of the helping cooks had messed up any recipes'. The feast tonight had to be perfect, or the King of Camelot would be furious. Arthur would be furious, and Merlin would be on the receiving hand. So Merlin followed another servant he had grown to know a little bit since Gwen's coronation. Her name was Sefa and due to her inexperience, she usually worked pretty much anywhere where staff was needed: in the kitchen, in some noble quarters, in the cleaning rooms, and she sometimes washed the floors in the evening. She would probably be one of the unlucky girls to scrub the floor after the feast tonight.

Sefa turned to him and gave him a sad smile:

"Have a nice evening Merlin, and make sure not to knock yourself out."

She was playing with her apron shyly. They weren't particularly close to each other, but right now, Merlin thought, she was probably the closest thing to a friend he had, so he'd better not turn it down. So he simply said:

"You too, Sefa."

And he ran to Arthur's side while trying to ignore his sore muscles and the tiredness of his eyes. He had always been a bit sleep-deprived, and there was no way he was going to let himself being crushed by it.

Merlin found Arthur with the rest of his guests and their servants, already sat in the feast room, where they would probably stay until very late that night... Or very early tomorrow, depending on the point of view. They were in deep conversation and there were already a great number of servants with jugs of wine and water nearby the tables.

It took less than two seconds for Arthur to notice him. Apparently the service was too slow for his taste. Merlin could feel it in his King's eyes. At least it wasn't too slow as to anger him, because Arthur spoke with a serious but cheerful tone:

"Ah, Merlin, at last. Bring me some more wine, and tell the kitchen to bring in some food."

As Merlin bowed and went to the kitchen, he heard Queen Annis speak over to Arthur, as to distract him from the slow service:

"... So, my dear Arthur, I can see now how different your kingdom is during your reign. I am curious about it, as you always seemed very defensive of your father's values."

And he heard half of Arthur's reply before he got too deep in the staircase leading to the kitchens:

" I still am, my dear Annis, in fact..."

The conversation of the nobles was replaced by stiff conversations and stressed sounds from the kitchen. The cook's voice was reverberating over all of those sounds, shouting orders and overseeing all the work:

"George have you got the sauce out of that ice box yet and got the replacement candles out?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

Merlin approached the cook as she shouted: "Martha don't touch to those chickens they're not ready yet!"

"I'm sorry, but the king is asking for the first plates of food to go up to the feast room. He says the guests have had a long ride and need food as well as refreshments."

The cook looked at him in horror for a few seconds.

"You should have ran down to me Merlin! I NEED 6 SERVANTS TO BRING UP THOSE PLATES!" she yelled, pointing to rather enormous plates of cold meat, bread, sauces and other things Merlin couldn't really difference. But he would have gladly got some food for himself. He hadn't eaten well since the morning. As if the cook heard him, his vision was blurred by a quarter of bread that had been tore from its entity.

"You should eat this Merlin, you look like the new physician's not nearly as good for a cook as Gaius. Up you go, now!"

Merlin should probably have told the cook that he wasn't living in the physician quarters by now, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't even because of his pride or anything. Even if he couldn't use magic, he still believed he could manage everything by himself, and he hoped the situation would turn around before someone actually discovered he wasn't living in the tower anymore. He bit into the bread, forcing himself to look cheerful and put his nicest smile on his face:

"Thank you!"

And he ran up to the feast like everything was all right.

It seemed like everything was all right too, for a change. The feast was enjoyed by the guests, and all the nobles stayed late. For once, Merlin didn't feel like he was being miserable. In fact, he quite enjoyed himself, and even had the opportunity to tease Arthur while pouring wine in the King's cup. Arthur responded well to the return of banter and silly under-the-table retorts. It was good to feel normal, and moreover, to feel like Arthur was impressed with Merlin's improvement at being a proper servant.

Which, of course, was where everything had to go downhill.

***

Merlin managed to get Arthur to his quarters and prepare him for the night without his king throwing a tantrum. And he could have done it, considering how drunk he wa Luckily, he was also in a positive mood that even made him compliment Merlin on his work. It cheered Merlin up and he left his king sleeping with a sentiment of genuine content.

As he made his way to the west wing, he thought he heard footsteps behind him. But at this point, the energy rush he had felt during the feast was wearing off, and now simple tiredness was being replaced by sheer and overwhelming exhaustion. And it didn't stop there. Merlin felt like the floor was unsteady, and above everything, he felt nauseous. Which made him realise he really hadn't had anything to eat since before the feast. But he was so tired that he decided it would have to wait for tomorrow... hopefully.

He stopped and forced himself to stay steady against the wall. Sweat pearled on his face, sending shudders through his body. In response, he reached for his magic and without even bothering with a spell, sent it through his body to counter the fever and dizziness. He waited a few seconds, and progressively, he felt better. The corridor before his eyes steadied.

He heard the footsteps again. They were clearer now.

"Hey, you there!"

The young prince of Mercia. Merlin stopped walking, but didn't turn yet.

"Turn around."

Merlin did, in an annoyed twist of feet that had him feel dizzy again. By all means, he really needed some sleep. He forced himself to speak, but it came out sore and low:

"Yes, Sir?"

"It's Your Majesty, or My Lord, for you, poor sod. Don't you know any manners?" Said the Prince. Dear God, if anybody didn't have manners, it had to be him. Merlin yawned, even if he didn't mean to.

"I'm sorry."

"It's I'm sorry, 'My Lord'".

Merlin didn't bother repeating. He simply stood there and waited, thinking that hopefully, his lack of response would have him dismissed. Which he had already been, by Arthur, five minutes ago. He Prince looked at him inquisitively at first, but then his expression changed to something akin to offense The Prince straightened his back and upped his head as to clearly illustrate his rank to Merlin. But the servant stayed still and waited.

"I request food and wine in my chambers, now."

Merlin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "You already had lots during the feast... My Lord." That probably wasn't the best thing to say considering his rank.

"Who the hell are you to question my will?" Barked the Prince.

The healing magic making Merlin stay awake was beginning to fade. The warlock could feel it. He closed his eyes, in case a flare made them turn gold. He was beginning to feel dizzy again. He heard footsteps again, so he opened his eyes. The prince was coming to him with an anger that was turning into rage. A very, very unnecessary anger, for such a nice and calm night.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin calmly, "But I've just been dismissed for the night. There are lots of night servants in the castle at the moment that are available for such requests. I'm sure one will attend to you shortly."

And a hand came flying at him.

Shlack!

"Ow!"

He hadn't seen the slap coming. He put his and on his cheek, which was now burning. He was hurt and shocked. At least the impact had made the dizziness disappear completely, now he was wide awake.

"What's your name?"

The noble had his hands on Merlin's tunic now. Merlin backed down.

"M... Merlin."

"You insolent useless boy, fetch me wine and food right now!"

The prince of Mercia was so close to him that the servant could see the pores of his skin pearling with sweat. His eyes were dilated with anger... or wine. He smelled of wine and women's perfume. Ah. A drunken night with ladies. Typical.

The Prince released him with such force that he stumbled to the floor and lurched away from the noble, who had taken a step forward, warningly. He managed to get himself up, not taking his eyes off the noble, and ran out of his sight, toward the kitchen.

Merlin didn't know how he found the kitchen. One moment he was in front of the noble, and the other he was stumbling through the kitchen door in a confused and panicked state, in front of most of the night servants and the two cooks. It put the whole kitchen in a shocked and silent state. He saw two of the other servants that had served at the feast earlier. They were comfortably seated at a table, in the corner of the room looking at him with such concern that Merlin had to restrain himself from looking over his shoulder to see if they were looking at someone else. He felt self-conscious and horrible, and his cheek still hurt a lot. He tried to stay steady and normal, but he must have failed.

"Merlin?" Asked the cook with an inquisitive yet concerned tone. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

Merlin allowed himself some time to put the right words together. God he was tired.

"The... the Prince of Mercia requires food and... and wine in his chambers."

He must have begun to fall down because only moments after he had spoken, he felt hands on him, trying to put him upright. Gentle hands, that certainly weren't the ones that had met his face a few minutes ago. He looked around him, and saw Sefa, the young maid, and two other manservants. He tried to follow their footing as they made their way through the kitchen while holding him, but his feet were numb and he stumbled forward. It was like he didn't have bones, or flesh, or anything really anymore.

"I feel sick," he declared.

"Don't let him be sick on the kitchen's floor!" He heard the cook say in return.

"And I'm hungry... And numb. But I haven't taken any wine tonight, or food either, thinking about it... I normally steal from leftovers but not tonight... tonight was nice, and I didn't want to screw it up... " He continued rambling, but he knew nobody was listening to him really.

His vision was blurry and unsteady. And then he was manhandled in a sitting position, with hands each side of his hips and others keeping his arms locked safely until he was completely sat down. He heard the sound of a bucket scratching on the floor to him too. And a blanket. It was unnecessary really, he wasn't even cold.

And then someone came into his eyesight: the cook.

"Merlin?" Her tone was unusually cautious. He though she would have shouted like she does when a noble asks for something. "What has the Prince of Mercia asked for?"

"Food."

"Food?"

"And wine."

"Wine, okay".

"In his chamber."

He sustained the eye contact he had with her for a moment, while she shouted, as usual:

"Marius, bring food and wine to the Prince of Mercia, in his quarter, now! There is bread and meat in the cold room. Take it to him, up you go!"

Merlin looked up to see the cook's assistant disappear in the cold room. He fixed his eyes on the place where she had disappeared, until she reappeared with a silver plate with food on it. Then, he looked down and saw the cook looking at him in return, her eyes asking a question. She didn't ask, though. Instead, she took a small pouch Sefa came to give her.

"Just... put this on your cheek, Merlin. It'll help with the burning sensation."

So Merlin did. He took the bag, and it was freezing cold. Ice cubes in a pouch. He put it against his cheek like the cook said, and the difference between the burning cheek and the cold pouch made him hiss. It took a few minutes before it became comfortable.

After a moment, the cook took back the pouch, which was dripping with melted ice cubes.

"Go to sleep, Merlin. You don't have to go back to the physician chambers. In fact, I'd strongly prefer that you sleep in one of the beds in the servant's quarters. I don't want you to fall down on your way to the physician's chambers, and the night servants have a lot to do already, I can't afford to send them up with you."

Why would I want to go to the physician quarters? Asked Merlin to himself, before remembering that he still hadn't told anybody about his rather... homeless situation. Ah. He would maybe. Eventually have to tell somebody... or at least Arthur, about it. Another servant helped him up from the crate on which he was sitting, and conducted him to a door at the other side of the kitchen. The servant opened the door and they entered in a small dorm room with a few beds and nightstands in it.

"There", said the other servant, forcing him to sit on the neared bed. "Sleep. I don't think you'll be dismissed for illness tomorrow, to be honest. You better try and get better now."

Merlin didn't even bother removing his boots, or jacket. The other servant looked at him uncomfortably for a moment, and left.

Merlin fell asleep before the other man closed the door. He didn't even hear the panicked servant coming back from the Prince of Mercia's chambers.

***

Merlin awoke in a confused state. He wasn't in his West wing cupboard, yet he wasn't in the physician quarters. There was light filling the room, and he could hear lots of people talking. And a louder voice, talking frequently... and hands, shaking him.

"Merlin, wake up!"

"Ugh."

"Merlin!"

The voice was insistent. A female voice, and not the cook's. He concentrated a bit harder.

"Merlin, I'm so sorry, but the Prince of Mercia has requested an audience with the king, and your presence is required. Oh Merlin, I'm so sorry!" The voice squeaked in alarm.

His vision cleared, and he finally saw the owner of the voice; it was Sefa, again. Then he processed what she had said.

"What?" He exclaimed, sitting up so fast that he saw stars. He was glad that he hadn't removed his boots for sleeping. He was out of the bed and at the door in seconds.

"Merlin!"

"What?" Asked Merlin again, turning to Sefa.

"After we put you to bed, yesterday, Marius... the servant that was sent to the Prince's chambers after you came in... he said the Prince was angry."

"Angry at what? Didn't he get what he asked for?"

Sefa looked uncomfortable now, Merlin noticed.

"Yes but... it seems he wanted you to get it for him."

Merlin looked at her, startled. He didn't remember being asked to bring it himself. But he must have been impolite to the noble, he could sense it. Would the Prince get him into trouble for this?

"Well. I'll see, I guess."

He turned on his heels. While he passed into the kitchen, other servants made a point of not looking at him. Except for the cook, that is. It was like all the attention he'd got the day before hadn't happened. He didn't mind not being noticed, but it was as if people were... scared of something. And he didn't like that. A tiny bit of himself felt alone again.

He left the kitchens and made his way to the small throne room, where audiences were generally held. He made sure he looked as normal as possible. At least he'd got a decent night of sleep, in that servant chamber. That was a plus.

***

Arthur had tried to conceal his confusion when the prince of Mercia asked for an audience, first thing in the morning. Sure, they had all woken up a bit later than usual, but it was common after a night of festivities. Even the servants were allowed to stay into bed. So when the prince had asked for an audience even before breakfast had been served, Arthur had worried. The prince of Mercia was a guest and if Arthur wanted anything to go according to plan, the guests comfort had to be the best.

It wasn't that he hadn't already the sympathy of Mercia, or any other king sheltered in Camelot at this very moment. But he was a young king. Unexperimented, even with his father's lessons, lessons he had been taking since childhood. He knew he would be tested, which meant Comfort and respect in the castle would be the firsts and easiest things to challenge. He had been rather impressed with that himself since the arrival of the delegations. He had almost complimented Merlin, who had been a rather exemplary servant lately, despite his lack of cheeriness or his apparent tiredness. But he didn't think Merlin's lack of energy was something to be worried of. A lot of servants looked more worn out than usual. And, has he kept reminding himself, Merlin had been efficient, loyal, and always respectful over the last few weeks.

But he couldn't really tell his manservant all of this. He never told those things. It was something he has inherited from his father: coldness in front of others' good work. He didn't know how to express pride to others. He knew pride wasn't a weakness, but he had been educated to think so.

So the fact that the prince of Mercia had especially requested Merlin's presence made Arthur worry that his manservant had done something wrong. And apparently, he had done something wrong enough to make the prince angry. Which wasn't a good thing, since the prince was as much of a brat as he, himself, was many years ago, and his father, the king of Mercia, would surely be very keen on seeing that his son gets his way.

So here he was, the mighty king of Camelot, desperately stressed, and waiting, alone with his guards, in the smaller throne room of the castle. He made his fingers drum on the wooden chair with impatience. Then, the heavy wooden door cracked and Leon entered:

"The King of Mercia and his son, My Lord."

"Thank you, Leon. Stand aside and let them in."

Arthur subtly pursed his lips in annoyance as the King and his son made their way before him. Merlin still wasn't there, and he had been sent for ages ago. For a servant to be late to a council when he was asked for was, in his father's time, enough for a banishment sentence. But Arthur would never do that, especially not to Merlin. At the same time, he really couldn't afford to look ridiculous and soft to his servant's behavior in front of a foreign delegation, or the strength of the kingdom would suffer. If Agravaine had been a poor uncle and a damned traitor, he had once told Arthur something that was true: mercy was sometimes a sign of weakness, and no young king wants to look weak in the eye of other kingdoms. The king of Mercia spoke:

"Arthur" he bowed. "Both my son and I are very sorry for requesting an audience, but it has come to my son's attention that one of your servant has shown great disrespect towards him, and I cannot oversee that."

Arthur had to restrain himself to put cup his face with his hands. Where the hell was Merlin? The king of Camelot sighted in exasperation.

"I completely understand, King Edor, and I hope to clear the matter as soon as the said servant arrives."

"What, isn't he already there?"

"I sent another servant to get him, but it seems he his running late."

Has Arthur spoke, he saw the face of King Edor distort in something like disdain, but the king of Mercia seemed to restrain himself from further judgment and adopted a straight, unreadable face.

"I'm sure he'll be there shortly" continued Arthur.

As he spoke, he heard a door creak and he saw his servant enter the room from the servant's entrance, to the right of the room. Merlin's footing was silent, careful, erased, almost like a doe who knows he's being watched.

"Ah, Merlin. I hope we didn't keep you waiting for too long" Arthur said sarcastically.

Merlin walked up to him until he was amongst the other Camelot servants. He looked at the prince of Mercia, and then straight at Arthur, unsure.

"I'm sorry My Lord, I've only just been made aware that my presence was requested."

Arthur watched King Edor and his son while Merlin spoke. Both their chin was up high, and they both had an insulted frown on their face.

"Well, since everybody is present, may please the prince of Mercia make his statement, so that I can finally understand the situation" said Arthur flatly, putting his arm forward to notify the prince that he was allowed to speak. The boy took a few step forwards before talking.

"Late last night, I was searching for a servant to bring me food and wine in my chambers, and I searched a long while before finding one and when I did, this insolent boy refused to serve m, literally and flatly, saying that he had been dismissed and that I had had enough of it during the feat anyway."

Arthur studied Merlin to see his reaction, but his servant showed none, except maybe boredom and tiredness. For the first time, he noticed how Merlin's eyes were circled by dark shadows, as if he had taken 10 years in a few seconds.

"Is that it?" asked Arthur to the prince.

"No. When he finally agreed to... excuse me?"

Arthur didn't realise Merlin had spoken, but the prince was closer to his servant than he was, so he couldn't vouch for anything.

"I'm sorry, I didn't say anything, My Lord" said Merlin.

"You muttered under your breath you insolent simpleton!"

"I didn't My Lord."

"Oh now that you are in front of your king, you remember your manners, do you?" said the prince, rather viciously.

Merlin didn't answer to that, and Arthur was glad that he chose to shut his mouth for once.

The prince spoke again, but this time it was loud and sharp:

"This manservant of yours is an impudent, disrespectful little fool who doesn't want to do his job properly, and I demand that you do something about it!"

King Edor put a hand on his son's shoulder, has to calm him down, but it didn't.

"I don't know to whom he belongs but I sincerely request, Your Majesty, that his master dismisses him from his duties. He truly is a shame to your court."

Silence reigned in the room for a moment. Merlin was looking at his feet like they were the most interesting in the world, just right now, and the prince's face was a deep red tone and he was breathing like he had run many miles.

"Merlin, do you have anything to say about all of this?" asked Arthur, looking straight at his servant, who lifted his head up with such wide eyes that Arthur wondered how they were even staying in their socket.

"It happened as I made my way home, My Lord. You'd already dismissed me for the night. I told him where the night servants were."

"You blatantly refused to serve me you selfish liar!" barked the prince.

"Now let's stay civilized please." demanded Arthur, raising his voice. This wasn't getting anywhere near any of the resolution scenarios Arthur had planned in his head when he had learned Merlin was involved.

"What? Why would you even asks the boy's version? Are you dubious enough that I'm not telling the truth? I'm a noble, and he's a servant. Only his removal from the court or his banishment will do justice to such impudence! I request banishment, Your Majesty, and you know such attitude deserves it."

"You hit me!" retorted Merlin, accusing.

Some of Camelot's servants shifted uncomfortably around Merlin. Some looked at the prince, some at Arthur, and some meant to look at Merlin but none did. The servant was clearly fuming. His shadowy eyes seemed darker and his brows indicated restrained anger that Arthur knew too well.

"This is ridiculous. You would believe him over me? Where is even his master?" said the prince of Mercia, lifting his chin up, again, in indignation.

There was, again, an uncomfortable silence, and Arthur wondered how come the prince hadn't realised yet that Merlin was his personal manservant. He'd been with him all week, and the prince had been to the councils many times when Merlin was on duty. Again, several servants frowned.

"Merlin is my personal manservant, dear Bryn." said Arthur, finally.

"What?"

This time it wasn't the prince who spoke, but King Edor.

"You heard well, Edor. Merlin's my manservant. Haven't you seen him trailing behind me all week?"

Edor seemed outraged.

"No. Servants aren't meant to be noticed. For how long has he been your servant, Arthur?" he asked.

"A little over 6 years, now."

"He can't be, your father would have never approved such behavior"

"My father is the one who hired Merlin for me."

"Then it's probably time you dismissed him. He's clearly not fit to serve anymore."

There was another silence. Arthur took his time to answer. He felt, for the first time since he had been crowned king, that his hands were tied to duty, while his heart screamed in disbelief: don't ban Merlin!

"I can't do this, Edor."

The king's eyes went wide, full of disdain.

"You'd take the word of a simple servant over the one of my son? You'd refuse to punish a servant that has no place in a royal court? This is outrageous, Uther would..."

But Arthur stopped him before he engaged in a tirade about his father.

"I can't banish Merlin from Camelot, my dear Edor, because I owe Merlin a dept."

Edor stopped moving for a moment, and then squinted his eyes, dubious.

"No king owes a debt to a servant. They are subjects, submitted to their kingdom."

"A king owes a servant a dept when said servant has saved his life, Edor" said Arthur flatly. That was a little lie. Arthur had made it up for every time he had been aware of Merlin saving his life, even if it was by disobeying orders. The last one he recalled was when Merlin had taken him out of Camelot during Morgana's recent attempt to take the throne. "And before you say that it is a servant's duty to put the life of his king before his own, I made it clear that in my kingdom, such act of courage is always to be recompensed."

Edor and his son stayed there, in silence, as if dumbstruck for a moment.

"Fair enough" Edor finally said. "But Arthur, a much as I respect you, if you do let this outrage go unpunished, I will break every alliance I have with your kingdom. I cannot be associated with such a weak manner of reigning."

Arthur sensed the threat in Edor's words. They were carefully chosen. Merlin, as strong as he was, looked like he wanted to be swallowed by the floor. Most of the servants looked like they wanted to go with him, too.

"Of course, no, I cannot let it go unpunished. Merlin has seemingly lacked respect for a guest, and I cannot let it past."

Arthur took a deep breath. Even he didn't like what he was going to do.

"That is why I will remove Merlin from his royal duties as of today. Merlin, come forward."

And Merlin suddenly looked like a child as he stepped forward, his hands brought together behind his back and his head bent down.

"As of today, you are not my manservant anymore, Merlin. You are to report to the steward immediately, and tell him that you have been put on trial and are to work for him, or for another noble of his choosing, for an unknown duration of time."

"Arthur..." tried Merlin, as if he wasn't realising the gravity of what he had just said. Of course, Arthur didn't mind the lack respect for ranks in Merlin's personality, but if there was a worst moment to forget about formalities, it was now.

"Silence!" he said dryly. "You will do as the steward asks, and you will be considered as a servant in training until you are fit to serve to the court again."

The atmosphere was so tense and heavy Arthur was wondering if they could all be crushed by it. The King of Mercia and his son muttered a "Thank you, Your Majesty", bowed and retreated through the heavy wooden doors, the servants following behind them and the other nobles present.

He fixed Merlin, who fixed him back, visibly in pain and shock, not daring to speak, not daring to do anything. For the first time Arthur though he saw a glimpse of vulnerability in Merlin that he had never seen before.

They stayed like this until a servant girl came to Merlin and brought him out of the room, taking his hand in hers like he was something fragile, breakable.

Maybe he was.

***

Merlin let Sefa lead him through the hallways and corridors of the castle. The walls looked like whirlwinds of white blurs in front of the manservant's hazy eyes. The sunlight coming through the various windows they passed was too bright for Merlin to look at, and he closed his eyes to concentrate on the young maid's hand squeezing his. He felt like he was in front of that Mercian prince again, and had just been slapped. Except they were in the morning, and the slap had just been delivered by Arthur's words.

Arthur, who had fired Merlin just to please another noble, like everything else Merlin had done was unimportant, like it didn't matter that Merlin had been a good servant those last few weeks.

Like it wasn't important that he had saved his life countless times.

In fact, Arthur's words didn't feel like a slap; they felt like a sword had gone through his heart. And it could fairly happen, now that Merlin thought about it. He felt Sefa's hand squeeze his own tighter, and before he knew it, he was being roughly shoved in a servant's passage on the first floor.

"Merlin, Merlin, I'm sorry but you have to calm down!" The young maid said while letting go of his hands to rub his shoulders and arms. Her voice was high pitched, and she looked behind her as a few servants passed, carefully ignoring them, her face full of worry.

He was shaking, and his breathing was hard and unsteady. He looked down to Sefa, almost like he was afraid of her, and then he blinked again, trying to make his vision settle down and sharpen.

"Er... okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he said repeatedly, looking around him.

"Don't be sorry, Merlin" he heard her say timidly.

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have said anything Sefa, I made everything worse."

"Don't think about that. It's not your fault" she repeated. "Merlin, please you have to listen to me."

He was dizzying off again, he knew it when she shook him hard by the shoulders. He looked down again, and she looked up to him with a strange look that mixed fierce and worry. Like the face a mum has when her son comes home very late at night, and she's both angry and relieved at the same time.

"Merlin, the king had no choice to please his guests, you must understand that, I'm sure he didn't want to do this, and he'll surely rehire you as soon as the foreign royals leave the kingdom. But Merlin, please, listen..."

"I'm listening to you already!" barked Merlin in a rush of anger that left him as surprised as the maid. "Sorry, sorry, forgive me, it's just..." he tried to explain himself, as he usually did, but Sefa stopped him once again.

"I know, I know."

They stayed silent, facing each other and listening to each other's breath for a moment. Sefa's hands were still on Merlin's arms and they itched, they made him feel self conscious, invaded. But instead of picking up on his thoughts, the maid tightened her grip on him a little more.

"Merlin, the steward, you need to be careful around him."

"What? Why is it important? I'm to be assigned to another noble anyway."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, Arth – the king – said so."

"Merlin, you are to be considered as a servant in training. It's different. You won't have any rights or advantages anymore." With those words, her frown deepened. She really looked like a worried mother.

Two other maids passed by them. When Sefa spoke again, her voice was low, like a murmur.

"The steward despises the higher royal servants as much as he hates the ones in training, and at the moment, you are both, do you understand?"

"I'm not both, I'm not a royal servant anymore, remember?" Merlin said coldly. He knew Sefa didn't deserve to be at the receiving hand of his anger, but it was difficult not to let it all go, now that they were in a servant zone of the castle.

"He'll still consider you as one Merlin. Worse, he'll take pleasure in making sure you remember you aren't a royal servant anymore. It is known that the manner you were hired didn't please everybody, and that includes the steward."

"It was 5 years ago!"

It made sense, all of a sudden, the way the steward had never addressed him in all those years. It made sense, how the special guard would sometimes feign not to hear or see him, or how knackered all the servants in training looked all the time. Merlin assumed they were young and enjoying life a little too much now that they had a job. How oblivious had he been to other things? As all the information sank down, Merlin looked back at Sefa, in horror:

"I really am in deep, deep trouble am I?"

She pursed her lips.

"I hope not, now go before someone asks the steward if you've reported to him!"

She took his arm and led him to the nearest staircase: it was leading to the dungeons level, where the steward's workroom was. When she finally let go, he felt as if he was going to black out again. He positively wanted to black-out again... and wake up to find nothing had happened in the last two days. Gaius would be enraged to see how stupid he had been.

He looked one last time behind him, but Sefa was already walking backwards, encouraging him to walk down the stairs by pushing air in front of her with her hands.

Go, she mouthed one last time before turning on her heels and running back to the kitchens.

Merlin felt the air change when he got to the bottom of the staircase. The air was dense, humid, and heavy with dirt. It wasn't that this part of the castle wasn't being cleaned; he often saw somebody, generally a new servant, scrubbing the floor and the walls on the various days when he had bidding to do on this level. But dungeons were dungeons: underground rooms were always damp and the air was generally colder than anywhere else in the castle. Well, any room on the level was colder except for the steward's office, which had a fireplace, naturally.

He walked down the corridor until he came to a parting of ways: he could either walk another corridor, or climb a spiralling staircase. He knew the the stairs led to some of the knights' quarters, including Gwaine and Percival's. The corridor, on the opposite, was where the steward's office was, and a few doors away were the armoury, and the guards' room.

He nearly took the staircase.

He stopped when he arrived near the steward's office, which had its door open. He took a deep breath before knocking on the doorframe.

Knock knock.

"Enter!" said a deep, manly voice.

Merlin did, straightening and putting his hands behind his back, trying to look as normal as he could:

"I've been told to report to you, sir."

The steward was a tall, robust looking man with dark blond hair and a straight nose that looked as sharp as the knife the man was wearing at his belt. His lips were nearly inexistent, and at the moment, there was a smirk on his face which made him look like his mouth was a crack on his skin.

"So I've heard, Merlin."

He'd spit the name as if it was only good for the rats. Merlin chose not to answer, and tried to keep his face as emotionless as he could. He chose to sustain the steward's stare, thought.

"The king got tired of your incompetence, did he?"

Merlin stayed silent, again. The steward got up from the chair he was sitting on and approached the warlock.

"I wondered when it would happen. Let's be fair, you're not fit to be such a highly ranked manservant."

The special guard spoke with a slow, deep voice that made him look scarier than he really looked.

"Let's be clear: you're the most arrogant, incompetent and insolent servant I have ever laid eyes on and I don't believe even the greatest correction would do you any good. If it was my choice, I'd have thrown you out of the castle years ago."

Merlin chose to answer with a challenging, serious stare. It only made the steward laugh more.

"You think you're strong and important because you've been under His Majesty's protection for a long time. Let's begin by setting things clear: you have absolutely no power, no privilege and no meaning here. You are as important as the dirt under my boots."

The steward had pronounced those last few words as if they were meant to hurt. They did hurt, but after years of looking after Arthur's careless backside without receiving any credit, Merlin had learned not to care about the meaning of such words, so he simply said, in his most monotone voice:

"Do you have any chores for me to do today, sir?"

He didn't see the slap coming. He put his hands on his now red cheek.

"What was that for?!"

"Never speak unless you are asked to by anybody that is of upper rank to you, you insolent man. That includes me."

Merlin's magic was boiling under his skin. Over the last few years, he had gained a fair control over it, but at this moment, he could feel it, the tingling sensation, and it was sending rushes of anger through him. It was like the magic was upset, and it was trying to push Merlin into expressing it, which wasn't a good thing. He wasn't emotional with his magic, and it certainly wasn't about to begin today.

"You are to assist Sir Ewan Deira today, he has come to me directly after the audience with the king, expressing his wish to try and train you properly. He and I have a similar sense of how a "good servant" should behave. He'll make reports to me of all of your progresses...as well as your failures. You're dismissed."

Merlin didn't argue this time and nearly rushed out of the room. Where was even living Sir Ewan Deira? He certainly didn't know. He'd had to ask a servant on his way up. He hoped he wouldn't have to ask around for too long or he was sure the steward would know.

After talking to a few servants, he managed to get his way to the noble's quarters. They were on the fourth floor of the south wing, which meant Merlin would have to run up and down the various staircases of the castle just to bring the man his food and drinks. He also hoped the man wouldn't request a bath; it would mean that he'd have to run to the well and climb the stairs again several times with stupid amounts of water on his back.

Thinking about it, his blackout from last night already seemed like ages ago.

He stopped in front of the room he had been indicated by another servant, knocked, and waited. He rarely did it when he was serving Arthur, but he knew he had to play it safe if he didn't want anymore trouble.

"Enter." He eared. The voice was light and yet deep. Maybe Sir Deira was happy today. That would make thing easier for the manservant.

Merlin entered, bowed and made his presentation, as usual:

"My name is Merlin, I have been told that you –"

A goblet flying at him and it collided with his bowed head. He fell to the floor as the room blurred, and saw a shadow standing over him.

"Where is my lunch, clumsy boy?"

***

Merlin must have passed out for a few seconds, as when he regained a valuable state of consciousness he was being roughly kicked out of the room and asked not to come back unless he had food and wine with him. He ran down the flights of stairs as fast as he could, passing by Gwaine and Leon, who tried to approach him. He avoided them by sneaking into a servant's passage, seeing as the only subject of conversation would surely involve the knights being either sorry or awkward about the morning's events, which was something Merlin absolutely didn't want. He didn't have time for pitying looks and even if though knew he deserved them at the moment, he didn't want to see them, especially not in Gwaine's eyes.

He ran down the final stairs to the kitchens and, out of breath, shouted,

"I need... food and wine...for Sir...Ewan. Quickly!"

One of the kitchen assistants looked at him with round eyes for a split second before proceeding in creating a rather gigantic plate of food as quick as she could. He was glad the girl had taken him seriously as he was sure that every second that passed made the noble more and more angry. Even if all of this was more than unfair, he didn't want to get in more trouble.

He ran back to the noble's quarters as soon as he received the plate of food and wine jug. Despite the unfairness of everything, the warlock wanted to do his best to get back to Arthur as soon as he could and for that, he'd need to prove to both the steward and the grumpy noble that he was a worthy royal servant. Not that it mattered to him what they thought.

But as the day progressed, Merlin's faith in setting things right faded away. By the time the sun disappeared behind the hills, he'd been hit and insulted several times by Sir Ewan, who kept reminding him of how useless and stupid he was. He'd even been pushed into the fireplace ashes as he was cleaning it for "being too slow". His face was dirty with ash now as he'd barely had time to wash before the noble had sent him to muck out his stables. Merlin couldn't even conceive how the noble had managed to gain such a high place at the royal court, seeing how cruel he was. It was like he had teamed up with the steward in a quest to humiliate him. When he was finally dismissed he nearly cried in relief. He'd never felt as drained as he did now, even though Arthur had made him work harder many times. He hadn't eaten at all, too afraid of being hit again for not having done a chore or something. All he wanted was to get a good wash and go to sleep. He went to fetch some water at the well to bring into his cupboard; there was no point in denying that the little room was now his home. He took a bucket he found in a supply room and went to the well.

He had just finished pouring water into it when he heard people talking loudly in the outer corridor circling the court yard.

"Did you see her face?" said the first voice.

"I know, I know!" another answered.

Merlin could see their shapes now. They looked like young knights.

"I bet the steward's going to punish her." The first voice said, hopeful.

"She'd deserve a good correction!" laughed a third voice.

They looked positively drunk. Their voices weren't so loud now but he could still hear them. He took his bucket of cold water and made his way to they would have to do for a good washing; he didn't want to have to pass by the kitchens again. The servants there were compassionate. But he could see in their eyes that many of them thought all of this was for the better. The king didn't need a buffoon for a servant.

The thing was Merlin knew Arthur liked him, with all his clumsy limbs and funny behaviour. Otherwise the king would have gotten rid of him years ago.

"Oi, you there!"

Crap, Merlin thought. Not again, please. But he still stopped and turned, keeping his grip on the bucket.

"Yes, sir?"

The knights recognised him and their smiles broadened. One of the knights seemed very young and wasn't wearing the Camelot knight uniform. It was probably a royal guard that had come with one of the delegations. The other two, on the contrary, both wore the Camelot knight uniform. One was tall and thick, the other one slightly smaller but there was no denying his strength.

"Oh, look who we've got here."

"Oh my god, it's him!"

Merlin straightened, lifting his chin. He knew even in the dark that they could see the fresh bruises on his cheeks, neck and collarbone, but he acted as if it didn't matter.

"Do you need anything, Sirs?" Merlin asked, feigning boredom.

The knights laughed loudly and this time their body language made it clear that they were completely drunk on too much mead and, possibly, women's perfumes. The foreign one even whistled.

"Oh, yeah, we do need something now that the king has gotten tired of your... charms."

"What is that supposed to mean?!"

Merlin backed away in horror. The smaller Camelot knight was balancing himself on his feet, grinning maliciously, his tongue stuck between his teeth like a snake ready to jump on its prey. He looked young but mostly stupid and ugly like this. The foreign knight looked amused but still puzzled.

"Who is it?"

"This, my dear, is Merlin. It's the servant who got fired in front of the whole court this morning. We've been waiting for years to witness that moment."

The older Camelot knight looked amused, pointing at him and spitting his name like he was nothing. God, was everybody teaming up with the steward to make his like hell?

Merlin shifted on his feet, uncomfortable.

"Is there anything you need, Sir? I have work to do." He lied.

He had the clear impression that the men before him looked at him like he was meat. He took the many seconds where none of them answered as dismissal and turned on his heels. He sighed in relief when he didn't hear his name being called.

He was safe.

Until a gauntlet hit the back of his head.

Merlin jumped in surprise and pain. He wondered if he was asleep and having a nightmare. It wasn't possible; how could he be respected so little in a day? He'd never even heard of servants receiving such poor treatment.

"Ow!"

He hadn't realised the three men were walking toward him until he was taken by the collar of his tunic and shoved to the wall.

"You listen when we talk to you, you dirty whore. How did you manage to stay in the king's service for so long?"

"Ah, it's true that he's dirty," commented one of the men standing behind Merlin and the tall knight.

"Get off me!" Merlin cried. The thick knight smelled like mead and wine and pickled eggs. Even in the dark he could see how dilated his eyes were.

"Oh, he's an enthusiastic one!" snorted one of the knights, a few steps behind.

"What do you want from me?!"

Merlin felt invaded from everywhere. The three knights were too close, they looked too drunk, too angry, and they were having way too much fun for the warlock's liking. He knew he didn't have the privilege of Arthur's protection at the moment but he hadn't thought it would lead to such drastic behavioral changes in the people he passed by every day. He had probably seen these knights practice with the king or practice jousting with Leon or hand fight with Percival.

The fear made Merlin aware of everything, like his magic – or adrenaline rush – amplified every sound, every touch, every feeling. He was aware of how soft the bruise on his chin was. He could almost feel the rough texture of his left cheekbone. He could feel how rough and dry the hand of the thick knight was through his tunic. The flames burning in the nearest pillar was too bright and it was too warm to his liking.

He could also hear footsteps approaching from the nearest servant's passage. He took his chance and made a piece of armory that was suspended on one of the outer walls fall to the ground with his magic. He made sure to close his eyes just in case the knights weren't drunk enough to not notice.

The sound was so ear-splitting that it made the drunk knights jump out of their skins and Merlin was free again. Whoever was in the servant's corridor chose this moment to raise their voice.

"Is there someone here?"

It was a rather low voice but something was off about it. The knights, however, were too drunk to notice.

"Let's just go, I'm tired," said the thick one.

"Ye-eah," said the others foggily.

They made their way to the nearest inner corridor, completely forgetting Merlin, who was now lying on the floor with his back resting on the cold white wall.

He waited until the knights disappeared from his sight to take his breath. He was hurting everywhere. How this could be his first day as a servant in training, he didn't know. He felt like he had accumulated all his wounds over a whole month. He stiffened when he heard footsteps again.

"Merlin?"

It was Sefa. Considering how worried she had been in the morning, she must have been looking around for him.

"Hi, Sefa," he said weakly.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so."

"What happened? I heard weird things, people talking and laughing."

"Yeah, erm..." he hesitated. "I came across some drunken knights, that's all."

"Crap."

She must have known what it meant because she didn't ask further questions. She helped him up and took his abandoned bucket of water. She patted his shoulders as if she meant to sweep them.

"Sefa, it's okay. I was just going to wash and go to sleep."

"You do need to wash," agreed Sefa, looking at him with a sad smile.

"I'll take my bucket now, please."

"There you go."

She handed him the bucket with her gentle hands. He smiled and began to walk again but halfway through his movement she stopped him.

"Merlin."

"What?"

He looked at her and she withdrew her hand from his arm as if catching on to his thoughts. He needed his space right now. She pursed her lips as if she wanted to say something but was afraid to.

"Please, Sefa, if you have something to say, then do."

She took a deep breath.

"I went to the physician's quarters after dinner."

Oh.

"You haven't been living there for some time, have you?"

Silence.

"No, I haven't," he resumed his walking to signify he didn't want to talk about it. He really didn't want to talk about it. There was nothing to be done now that he wasn't Arthur's manservant anyway. But the maid was stubborn under her apparent delicateness and she followed him.

"Why haven't you said anything? Wait, you obstinate man!"

She was angry now. He turned around.

"Because there was nothing to do, Sefa. The man threw me out because he needed the space. I found somewhere else, it's not the best but it's a roof. And I know there isn't any bed left in the servants' quarters. I'm not stupid. I know I took someone's bed last night."

He looked at her and she looked straight back at him, confused.

"He threw you out?"

"Yes."

"He said you'd moved out."

"That was a lie."

Her eyes got larger.

"You've been homeless for two weeks and you didn't say anything? What is wrong with you? Was honor and pride stopping you from asking for even the simplest form of help?"

At this instant, he knew he had deceived her. Her eyes were full of disbelief, of sadness and even, maybe, a little bit of betrayal. The warlock realised that maybe he should have talked to her about it.

"Where do you live?" she asked.

"What?"

"Right now, where do you live? Where do you sleep? Where do you eat? Where do you wash?"

The manservant hesitated.

"In..."

"Where?"

"In an abandoned broom cupboard in the west wing."

"Let's go, then."

She crossed her arms in expectance and for the first time in his life, Merlin actually let someone else besides Arthur, Gaius and his mother into his life. He led Sefa to his miserable cupboard and let her take care of him, completely drained. She helped him remove the ash from his face and neck and she did her best to make his room comfortable for the night, promising to come and wake him up in the morning, since he didn't have a window to guess the hour. She made it clear that she wanted him to move into the servants' quarters even if there wasn't any bed available but, seeing how knackered Merlin was, she let it drop for the night and bid him good night as she closed the door behind her. Merlin drifted into sleep.

***

Arthur grunted in annoyance as George pulled the red velvet curtains open. He hadn't realised how much he had gotten used to Merlin's loud morning entrances. Sure, at first he'd been very annoyed, all those years ago when he was young and still a prince. But now he'd grown accustomed to it and even found it softer than the horror of being awoken by the blinding luminosity of daylight. He knew George simply followed the usual protocol but no matter how perfect George was as a servant, Arthur couldn't bring himself to like him. It wasn't because the man had first been hired by his traitorous late uncle...and it certainly wasn't because he'd tried to replace Merlin when the said manservant had disappeared after a patrol gone awry. But George was the best when it came of efficiency and, as Arthur had learned, the other kings needed to see that he had complete control over his servants, otherwise it would compromise the whole treaty. No king would want to ally himself with someone who couldn't even control his inferiors, after all. George stood before him at the end of the bed.

"It's time to get up, Your Majesty. I brought you breakfast."

Arthur looked at his chamber's wood-carved table. George had taken care of setting the breakfast ready before waking him. How had he even done it? There were many plates of food perfectly set on the little table and there was an incredibly wide variety of fruits, cheeses, bread and meat filling the various plates.

Oh.

Arthur had almost forgotten that it was the norm to get enormous amounts of food when you were a king.

The cutlery was perfectly polished, made of silver and gold and Arthur was fairly sure that if he looked closer on to the table he'd be able to see little crystals embedded in the plate. It was one of the special kingship cutleries that Merlin only bothered to get out for special occasions, such as when Arthur completed a quest or did something that made Merlin cheery. He didn't always know what made Merlin so happy sometimes but he'd never complain, not in a million years.

Seeing all the food and the luxury he was being spoiled with, he realised he really had forgotten what kind of treats came with being a royal. Merlin always came in with a rather small amount of food, especially for breakfast, arguing that even if he was a prince - and now a king - it wasn't a reason to waste food by bringing him way more than he'd ever be able to eat anyway. Back when he was young and arrogant, Arthur used to argue, but he had since then abandoned it for the simple reason that even if he'd never admit it openly, Merlin was right. He'd realised it a few years ago. At that time, there had been a food shortage in the entire kingdom and the rations had been reduced drastically for everybody. After those events, Arthur had never asked Merlin for more food than he needed.

"What will His Majesty want to wear today?"

George had spoken in a humble voice, standing beside the wardrobe.

"Er, the chainmail for protection logically...but please get the royal-crested undercoat and the light armour for me to wear, George."

"Great choice, My Lord."

George bowed unnecessarily low and proceeded to gather Arthur's clothes and armour together, putting then on the bed. The manservant was so silent that the king almost didn't notice him sneaking behind him to push the chair under him as he sat at the table for breakfast. Arthur looked at him in surprise and George immediately bowed again, as if Arthur's stare was a reaction to an offence he had committed.

What had gone through his mind to fire Merlin in front of the audience yesterday morning? Arthur really wished he could answer this question right now.

He cursed, allowing himself to be angry while he still could, because once he was out of his chambers, he knew he'd have to be as cheerful and neutral as possible. He let the anger fill his skin, his muscles, his bones, his brain.

Why did you do it?

Because.

That was stupid.

I know.

George isn't even that good, he's annoying.

I know.

Merlin had been a good servant those last few weeks, you know it.

I KNOW, I KNOW!

He let the mental war go on in his head while he ate. It distracted him from George's erased personality and his boring, way too submissive comments. He thought about everything that had happened prior to yesterday's audience. Merlin had been an efficient servant those last few weeks. Sometimes late, yes, and sometimes lacking of his usual energy, but the big eared boy had still been efficient. Furthermore, Arthur knew he had given Merlin extra chores to do. He cursed himself for not asking Merlin about his change of humour prior to the arrival of the other delegations. He guessed he had only assumed it had been due to Gaius' departure. After the various royals had arrived, Arthur had had no time at all to properly discuss the subject with his manservant.

Well, up until the audience, that is.

George yet again sneaked up behind him to pour some water into his cup. Arthur hiccupped in surprise.

"Will you stop doing that?!" he shouted.

"May I be forgiven, My Lord, but what do you mean?"

"Sneaking around me like...like your bloody invisible!" Arthur exclaimed loudly.

George bowed his head down.

"I'll be more loud, then, Your Majesty."

"Yes, please, thank you." Arthur said, closing the subject.

Once he was properly dressed and ready, the king left his chambers. George was trailing dutifully behind him...like any good servant would do. Even Merlin was capable of that. Although he had dismissed his former manservant the morning before, Arthur felt like it was ages ago. No matter how hard he tried not to care too much for Merlin, it never worked. He always felt like Merlin was more than just his servant, mostly because the man had a way of crawling under his skin to make him care, unlike any other people. Even Gwen had taken more time than Merlin to make an impression on him.

But then again, Merlin had always been different, from the very start. It would have been surprising if Arthur hadn't spotted him right on the day they met. Up until then, nobody had questioned him or even confronted him beside his father. Arthur was persuaded that everybody liked him and showing off had been, at that time, his way to make people see him in action. And yet Merlin had just happened to walk past during one of his little parades and had put doubt in everything Arthur thought. Confronting him had been a stupid thing to do for someone like Merlin, but nevertheless, it had made a permanent mark on Arthur's soul.

His thoughts were interrupted by King Bayard, who greeted him, apparently wanting to talk about the distribution of rations in outer villages near his kingdom's frontiers.

The day carried on like a horserace. Because the treaty involved so many kingdoms, it was hard to come to a decision and Arthur realised that maybe it'd take more time than he first thought it would to complete the whole affair. The foreign royals had already been in Camelot for nearly a week now and they were getting nowhere near an agreement. Bayard wanted to get rid of several outer villages settled near Camelot's frontier, arguing it cost too much to care for them. The Mercian King and his son – whom Arthur pretty much hated by now – were very keen on gaining territory but also wanted a partnership between the patrols from the three kingdoms circling theirs. They argued about transparency and teamwork as a mean of achieving great things. Bayard, however, seemed reluctant to the idea.

As for Arthur, he was far beyond caring. His role in the peace treaty was to make allies, not to negotiate the division of outer villages that nobody wanted in their kingdoms. Everybody was important, even those little outer villages. They brought food to the kingdom and in return it was the kingdom's duty to care for them in time of need. Many times during the council, Arthur's thoughts drifted to Merlin. Arthur wondered where he was and for whom he was working. He hoped he wasn't too upset with Arthur's actions. That's when he realised he hadn't even asked Merlin about the new physician's debut in the castle, which was rather careless. He also realised that audiences and reunions were far less interesting when Merlin wasn't there to pull Arthur out of his boredom.

The council finally ended around dinnertime and the kings got up and slowly retreated into their chambers, one by one. Arthur stayed to talk with each one of them... but he didn't miss the chance of eclipsing himself the moment he could, dismissing George at the same time.

"Are you sure you don't need help with anything, My Lord?"

"I'm exhausted, George. Bring dinner to my chambers and I'll serve myself. Another servant can take it away afterwards."

"Or course, Your Majesty."

George retreated while bowing lowly, which made him look particularly ridiculous in a way that probably outstaged Merlin's attempts to cheer him up. Arthur looked at George while the servant retreated behind the wooden door in the smaller throne room. It was leading to the kitchens.

He didn't lose a second once he was sure he was alone. He had to restrain himself not to run up to the physician's quarters.

"Where's Merlin?"

Arthur hadn't even bothered knocking when he arrived at the physician's quarters. It was dinner time for most of the servants and he hoped it was in Merlin's case, too. Well, normally, it should be.

The physician, Helias, was standing over a plate of meat and vegetables, visibly preparing his meal. There was a boy Arthur didn't know sat on Merlin's usual bench at the little table they had in those quarters. Maybe Merlin was in his room? Arthur dearly hoped he was in his room.

"Merlin, Sire?"

"Yes, Merlin, the dark haired servant with the giant ears. You know him, he lives here."

Helias looked puzzled and a frown formed on the physician's face. The man really did have some of Gaius' traits.

"I'm sorry, Sire, but it's just me and Bran here."

Helias bowed his head slightly but kept his eyes locked on the king.

"Is the boy the manservant you fired yesterday, My Lord?"

Arthur stilled in surprise. He was pretty sure he hadn't fired Merlin, but downgraded him. It wasn't the same thing at all. Seeing the confused look on both Helias and the young boy, he straightened, putting his most serious "kingly and very authoritarian" look on his face:

"I'm pretty sure I haven't fired him, Helias."

The atmosphere tensed immediately. Arthur now had the attention of both the physician and his – what, apprentice?

"Well? Didn't you hear me? I won't repeat myself many more times. Where's Merlin? He's Gaius' apprentice. You surely know him."

Helias looked at his apprentice for a moment and then, suddenly, he seemed to remember.

"Oh. Yes! The boy, I remember him now. He moved out."

"He what?"

"He moved out the day Gaius left the castle, Your Majesty. He never lived with me in the first place, that's why I had some difficulty replacing him!" The physician chuckled as if it was some very funny fact.

"That's not possible. He'd have told me."

"Didn't he? Well, that's not very responsible of him."

Arthur stared, dumbfounded.

"That's not the point."

The physician wisely chose to stay silent this time.

"Well, that's unfortunate. Do you know where he went?" Arthur asked.

"No."

"You have...no idea?"

"No. I'm very sorry I can't help you, My Lord."

Arthur rolled his eyes. His annoyance was slowly transforming into stress and anger.

"Well, it's not your fault. I'll leave you to eat, then."

He turned on his heels without bothering to close the door behind him. He was fuming and now he realised that downgrading Merlin had been a grave, grave mistake, even with all the implications it brought. He knew he had pleased the Mercian king and his son but now he found that it cost him a lot. Because he liked Merlin, especially since now he didn't know where he lived at all. But in a way, it made sense that Merlin would have wanted to move out, seeing as Helias had another apprentice. Three people in a two-room quarter was a lot and, taking into consideration that there were always patients in the room, Arthur could understand Merlin's willingness to get his own quarters. But he felt a bit betrayed that his manservant hadn't told him that he'd moved. What if Arthur had needed him in urgency and hadn't been able to find him?

He made his way to the dungeons' level where the steward's office was. Since he was the one to assign Merlin his tasks, the guard would surely know where he was.

***

The second day as an official "servant in training" was even more horrible than the first one. Merlin had been told to come down to the steward's office in the morning only to learn that he was supposed to report to him every night and, of course, he hadn't done it the night before. He hadn't done it not only because he didn't know but also because he'd had a run in with drunken knights. His head still hurt from the bruises they'd given him and the steward shouting at him for being irresponsible and not reporting back to him didn't do any good.

"You are to report to me every night or I'll give you extra chores to complete beside your duties to Sir Ewan, am I clear?" the steward had said.

Even a decent night of sleep – and Sefa's gentle voice waking up in the morning – hadn't left Merlin with enough energy to argue. He wasn't even sure he wanted to argue. So he had simply spent the day trailing behind Sir Ewan, doing chores for him and hoping to see Arthur along the way. His magic was burning beneath his skin and it made it more difficult for him to control himself. Sir Ewan's eagerness to punish him for every fault hadn't deflated and he found himself on the receiving hand of a few punches – mostly at the back of the head, where his hair would hide the wounds. Merlin firmly believed that no matter what he did or how good he was as a servant, Sir Ewan would still report him as careless and insolent to the steward at the end of the day.

He'd guessed right.

Sir Ewan had dismissed him right before dinner that night, declaring that he had no use for him anymore. Merlin didn't argue, bowed solemnly – not that he meant it – and got out of the room. He remembered to go and feed the noble's horse before reporting to the steward.

He took his time in the stables; the horses were probably his less demanding friends at the moment. He wondered for a moment how he would protect – or even see - the king now that he wasn't his personal manservant. Of course, Arthur could care for himself up to a certain point and his knights offered him good protection as well, but what if the king stepped in a magical trap or something? In those occasions, Merlin was always the one to fix everything and make sure Arthur came out of it alive. What about now? The steward was watching his every movement and Sir Ewan wasn't going to overlook an absence. He'd have to find a way to speak to Arthur...or for Arthur to speak to him. He wasn't about to let everything slip from his hands; he'd gotten too far to abandon it now. He'd also have to slip a word to the king about the servants' treatments; he was nearly sure those punishments weren't really dictated by the king. There was no way Arthur would allow any guard to hit a servant repeatedly for his faults.

Realising he didn't have anything more to do in the stables, Merlin caressed Sir Ewan's horse one last time and made his way to the dungeon level, where he knew the steward was waiting for him.

He walked softly, making sure his footsteps were as muted as the rest of the castle. Apparently the royal council today had been obscenely long and the nobles had all gone to bed early. He made sure to take the longest way possible to reach the steward's office but it still seemed like too short of a time when he found himself in front of the door.

He knocked.

A chair creaked, followed by the sound of a dry, annoyed, and possibly a little tired voice.

"Enter."

Merlin pushed the door open and waited. He knew that if he spoke, he'd be reprimanded.

"Ah, Merlin! Finally - I heard you were been dismissed ages ago. Tell me, what took you so long?"

"I went to feed the horse and make sure they were okay for the night, Sir."

"Good. How much time did that take you?"

"I don't know, a while, Sir."

The steward seemed falsely cheerful tonight. Merlin allowed himself to think that maybe he had just been in a foul mood the day before, but he pushed it away immediately when the steward's smile fell. The man got up.

"Do you know who I am, Merlin?" he asked as if it was the first time they met.

Merlin shifted on his feet and put his hands behind his back.

"You're the steward."

"You're the steward, Sir," corrected the man.

"You're the steward, Sir,"repeated Merlin.

"Do you know my name?"

Merlin stood still for a second. No, he didn't know the man's name. He shook his head.

"Pardon?"

The steward looked at him expectantly with his scruffy brows raised unnecessarily high. He really looked ridiculous, Merlin noticed.

"No, Sir."

"Well, my name is Marcus, Merlin."

Merlin didn't say anything. Marcus continued his monologue with a calm, malicious voice that promised everything Merlin had feared from the start.

"And I know, for a start, that you've been a very lazy servant today. Sir Ewan told me how useless and slow you've been today. He gave me the list of things he'd had you doing and what you managed to do properly. Which is, I must say, nothing. Not a single thing, Merlin."

Merlin hadn't noticed the wooden stick Marcus had hidden behind his back. The blow collided with his hip and he fell to the floor with both his hands protecting his side. But the steward didn't stop. Once he was curled onto the floor, the steward elevated the wooden stick again and struck several times. Each blow was punctuated with a word:

"You are - ."

Bang.

"The most worthless –."

Bang.

"Creature –."

Bang.

"I have ever –."

Bang.

"Laid eyes on."

Crack.

Merlin felt a rush of pain travel through his body when one of his ribs fractured under the the blows. Fractured rib bones weren't serious injuries, especially since he had magic. There was generally nothing to do about it except to make sure the broken bone didn't poke the lungs. But it hurt so much Merlin let a silent cry escape from his lips and he closed his eyes, trying his hardest to breathe normally and especially not pass out.

The steward didn't strike any more blows. Instead he forced him up, taking him by the collar.

"Stay upright," Marcus ordered.

Merlin almost disobeyed. His knees wanted nothing more than to collapse under his weight. But he didn't do it. He let his magic flows through his body - closing his eyes to make sure the steward wouldn't notice – and it gave him the strength he needed to look almost unaffected by the events. Only his dark, angry expression could betray the warlock.

"Sir Ewan was so disappointed by your skills that he gave up on you and told me to assign you somewhere else. Do you know what it means, Merlin?"

He waited expectantly.

"No, Sir."

"It means we're back at the beginning. But seeing as Sir Ewan was so dissatisfied with your work these past two days, I won't assign you to another noble. You clearly aren't fit to serve people of such high rank."

There was a silence as Marcus exhaled sharply.

"You'll be working for me from now on and until I decide you are...submissive enough to serve people of upper rank. Every time you will disobey, every minute run late, and every time you fail to complete a task properly, you will be punished properly and according to the royal punishment chart."

The steward was so close Merlin could feel his warm breath on his skin. It made him want to be sick. Merlin had never heard of a "royal punishment chart", even when he was serving Arthur. When Arthur wanted to punish him he either sent him to the stocks for a few hours or to the dungeons if he was really unhappy. King Uther had surely mentioned flogging to him a few times in his early days but he had never even heard of someone being flogged within the castle since the day he'd set foot in Camelot.

Fort the first time, Merlin doubted himself. Did such a document really exist? Was he really being treated because Arthur or his father had told the steward it was fine to do so in certain circumstances? He'd have to ask another servant. Not Sefa, since she hadn't been in Camelot for a long time and wasn't being assigned tasks by the steward, but the cook. Unless she'd heard of all of this, which would make Merlin Mr. Idiot number one, then this whole punishment thing was either an underground practice or a normal thing. The steward spoke again.

"You will report to the night steward before dawn every morning. He'll give you the list of tasks to complete during the day as well as the length of time those tasks should take. Every time you finish a task, you will then report either to him or to me if I am working. The night steward's name is Kay. He'll tell me everything you do or say and I'll judge the rest. Is that clear?"

"Very clear."

They were silent for a moment. Merlin was waiting to be dismissed. The warlock's magic was doing a good job of lessening the pain. He let the hands that had been resting on his now bruised side fall down. He shifted, testing the way his body would react to the cracked bone.

That was when Arthur chose to enter the steward's office.

"Marcus, would you..." began the king before he stilled, taken by surprise. "Ah, Merlin, there you are. I wished to talk to you."

Merlin looked at Marcus but his expression was unreadable. The wooden stick still lay on his desk in plain sight. Arthur didn't comment on it.

"In private, Your Majesty?" asked the steward with a soft and solemn voice that Merlin had never heard before.

"Yes, but please do not mind, we'll talk in the corridor. I take it you've just dismissed Merlin, have you?"

"Of course, My Lord. He's all yours."

If Merlin didn't know how cruel the steward was, he'd probably think the man was always that nice. But then again, Arthur was the king. You couldn't be rude to a royal. He looked at Arthur, who showed him the door with a movement of his hand. He followed him outside.

The corridor was dark except for the few torches which kept flickering. Arthur stood before him and if there were many things that Merlin wanted to say to him, he kept his mouth shut. A good servant should only talk when asked to.

"Look..." began Arthur. He looked almost uncomfortable. "I needed to talk to you. I'm sorry I had to do this, especially in front of anybody. Now, I hope you'll understand that it'll have to stay like this for a while."

"I understand, My Lord."

Arthur looked taken aback by Merlin's response but he seemed to wipe it away after a moment. The atmosphere became awkward.

"I know I haven't been exactly the most demanding master with you, but you must understand that normally, and especially in other kingdoms, these kinds of punishments are normal and thus, if I hadn't done it, it could have jeopardised the whole treaty."

Arthur stopped talking, as if expecting Merlin to interrupt him. As the king realised the manservant had no intention of talking, he continued.

"A king...will not sign a treaty with another king if he thinks his potential ally isn't strong enough to control his people, especially his servants. In some kingdoms, punishments for disrespecting a royal are normally whipping and execution, so you understand that by merely downgrading you, it looked like I did you a favor."

This time Merlin didn't restrain himself.

"May I ask a question, Sire?"

He'd spoken without thinking, but he really felt like he needed to know about the whole punishment affair.

Arthur seemed to hesitate.

"Yes...yes, of course you can."

"Is there a servants' punishment chart in Camelot?"

"There is."

"How does it work?"

Arthur tensed.

"Why do you ask? It works like any other chart. I'm sure you've experienced it. I used it to correct your faults more than one time. "

"But you mostly used to send me to the stocks," Merlin argued.

Arthur shifted. He looked annoyed now.

"Yes, because I saw it fit do to so. Any other noble or person with enough authority can punish his servants as he pleases."

"As...as he pleases?"

"Yes and before you ask, yes, it does apply to you. I've been rather soft with you, you should consider yourself lucky."

"But..."

"No, there is no 'but' this time Merlin. Had you worked for another noble you would probably have known far worse. Anyway. It's...it's great to see you're doing alright. For the moment, just...just do as you're told. We'll talk about it when the negotiations are over."

Even with the slight tone betraying the king's worries, Arthur's cold, bitter words stood suspended in the air between them as he turned on his heels without much of a goodbye. Merlin stood there in silence, muted. He listened to the sound of the king's footsteps echoing in the night and he wondered if destiny was turning on him. As he stood there, something inside the manservant broke, and it wasn't one of his ribs this time.

Little did he know the future would bring him worse.

***

For two weeks, Merlin worked for the steward and he endured the blows like he was made of steel. Every time he expected to be hit, he put a magical shield over his skin to help reduce the injuries. He thought, several times, of letting his magic show. Then Arthur would have no choice but to execute him and it would put an end to his misery. But those were just thoughts, poisoned by the sadness which had filled his body like the venom of a snake. He couldn't bring himself to reveal his magic or to do something worse enough to put his life in jeopardy. He couldn't. He still had Gaius and his mother, no matter how far away they were.

The words Arthur had pronounced many nights ago still haunted him enough to prevent him from sleeping, even if Sefa had managed to have him transferred to the servants' quarters. He didn't have a bed but he now had a mattress on the floor in the men's dormitory. It was better than nothing. He had company and Sefa made sure he had enough food as the salary of a servant in training was less than one would hope to survive on by himself. She also made sure all of his injuries were cleaned and tended to in order to avoid infection.

The steward had traded the wooden stick for a small whip seven days after Merlin had last talked to Arthur. The manservant had tried to talk to the king again several times but he had merely succeeded in getting his attention. One time Arthur had even meant to go to him but he had been stopped by Queen Annis, who was one of his allies in the treaty, before reaching him. Merlin had resumed his duties before Arthur had had time to finish his conversation with the royal lady.

For two weeks, Merlin worked for the steward. At the end of the second week, his world was shattered into pieces.

By an envelope.

***

Merlin was helping a few other kitchen assistants to unload a shipment of potatoes and grain that had just arrived from one of the outer villages when it happened. Leon had ordered them all to unload the shipment and to take it to the kitchen. The knight hadn't done much more than glance at the warlock. At first Merlin felt betrayed because it felt like it was as if the knight had forgotten that he even knew him. But at the same time, Leon being Arthur's right hand, he had to give the example, and comforting a servant who had insulted the foreign royal probably wasn't the best of ideas. With further examination, Merlin realised he could see in Leon's eyes that the man was restraining himself and it comforted him.

Merlin didn't bother to smile at him. His distress was written all over him; in the shadows under his eyes, on his irritated cheeks, on his dirty garments, on his hands... in the deep blue of his eyes. Leon finished giving his instructions and encouragements to the other servants and went to join the other knights, namely Gwaine and Elyan. The royals were going out for a hunt today and the knights were to accompany them.

Merlin stood to the left of the entrance staircases, behind the shipment. He had a good view of the knights and when Arthur left the castle with King Bayard, Merlin saw him as well.

The king wasn't in one of his most cheerful days either, Merlin could see it. Arthur smiled, of course, but it was the kind of smile he sported when he was sad. Merlin knew all of Arthur's smiles by heart. He wondered if it was because the king was thinking about him. It was hypocritical, but it made him feel better that maybe Arthur was sad because he wasn't there.

He was so absorbed by Arthur that he didn't see the messenger boy come his way.

"Oi, are you Merlin?"

Merlin stared.

"Er... yes."

"I have a letter for you."

"For me?"

"Yes."

The boy gave him the letter and ran off like fire was spreading behind him. He looked at the envelope. It was from Gaius. Maybe he'd written to him to let him know where Merlin could write to him. It would be nice if it was. Merlin really needed to speak to someone who knew him entirely. He'd thought about writing to his mother about a week ago but she didn't know much about his life in Camelot and telling her he was in trouble would only make her worry, which he didn't want. His mother already had a lot to do all by herself in this little Ealdor village Merlin hated so much. He turned to Peter, one of the older servants who were emptying the shipment.

"Can I open it now?"

Peter looked at him fondly.

"Yeah, yeah of course, dear boy."

He remained behind the shipment to be sure the steward wouldn't notice him right away if he came around and he opened the letter.

Dear Merlin,

I dearly hope you are alright back there in Camelot. The training of the outer villages' physicians is going well even if it's taking a lot of my time. Hopefully when I get back, people living in the outer villages will be able cure themselves. But this is not the reason why I am writing to you, and I am sorry.

While I was in the village of Merida, which is near the Escetian frontier, a vile plague began taking away the life of many villagers. It took me some time to find a cure, but I finally did. I wasn't fast enough to save five villagers out of the 13 who got sick. When the situation was under control I left the village, and since it was near Ealdor I thought I'd take a break and go see your mother.

I am so, so sorry Merlin. When I arrived, I realised the sickness had spread to your village, and your mother was sick with it. I tried to save her, I gave her the cure, several times, but nothing did it. She passed away in my arms. I had given her a pain killer draught; she didn't die in pain. She told me to write this letter to you, and to tell you that she was very proud of you, and hoped that you would not mourn her for too long. She loves you dearly. I am currently trying to gather the things I can save from her house, but the other villagers insist on burning the house down to avoid further spread of the sickness. I'll gather as much things as I can, and I will bring them back to you once my work in the outer villages is over.

Ask Arthur to give you some time off, I'm sure he'll understand. He was dearly fond of your mother. I hope the new physician, Helias, is treating you well.

Love,

Gaius.

PS: If you want to write to me, don't do it before two weeks. I'll be in the Broceliande forest village for sure by then. Before that, I'll be travelling around making sure the boys I trained in the villages I already went to are doing good.

Merlin doesn't know how he finished the letter. All he knows is that his hands were shaking and suddenly his entire body is trembling, hiccupping and he is crying uncontrollably. The letter slips from his hands and flies in to the wind.

He doesn't remember falling on to the floor. All he knows is that he could sense his soul being torn apart by a violent, unexpected grief and his body suddenly feels lifeless. It is worse than everything that has happened to him. The only thing he remembers is the rush of power escaping his body as he loses control of his magic for the first time in more than 10 years.

***

Arthur had only just left the castle when the earth trembled. At first, it shook with great irregularity, as if mimicking the spasms of someone crying. And then it trembled. People cried. The servants in the courtyard lied down on the ground and guards tried to gather people at the centre. There was chaos everywhere. The castle walls trembled and a few rocks fell from the rooftop; the gargoyles' heads.

Chaos reigned in the courtyard for less than a minute and as it did, the king's thoughts were immediately directed to Merlin. He'd been thinking about him rather a lot lately. He kept rewinding their last conversation in his head, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. He knew he'd been a jerk but he'd been so worried and so afraid to let Merlin know what he was feeling that he'd transformed into the authoritarian king he was at the first sign of accusations. It had destroyed everything he had wanted to say. Instead of "everything it going to be fine, I've got this" he'd told Merlin to keep a low profile and do as he was told like a...almost like a pet. In the morning, he'd sent Leon to supervise some of the servants work and had asked him to look for Merlin, but he hadn't heard from him yet.

The earth trembled for less than a minute but Arthur could see it had done considerable damage to some parts of the castle. The other kings looked puzzled.

"Has that happened before?" asked Bayard.

"I'm not sure about that. It's possible."

Arthur really had no idea.

"Maybe you ought to make sure your people are okay, Arthur. The hunt can wait."

"Yes, yes, maybe I should."

He looked around; the guards were helping the nobles and the servants up. There seemed to be a few wounded ones. He saw two guards transport a noble lady inside the castle and he thought he saw a young maid and a stable boy lift another one. He couldn't see their faces and he didn't recognise them.

"Sir!"

This time, it was Leon.

"Leon, what just happened? Have we even ever had this kind of situation here?"

"I'll go to Geoffrey Monmouth and ask him to look into it."

"Please. And Leon?"

"Yes, My Lord?"

Arthur hesitated, but the other kings weren't paying attention to him so he took his chance.

"Have you seen Merlin?"

"Yes, My Lord. He was emptying a shipment we received this morning with other servants. He looked tired but I think he's fine. He did have a bruise on the left cheek, but he's clumsy so I wouldn't take it too seriously."

"Are you sure"

"Yes well, I haven't heard anything about a servants' quarrel lately. He probably just bumped into a wall or something."

At those words, Arthur relaxed.

"Thank you."

He looked at the shipment's carriage, which was still near the corridor leading to the kitchen's entrance, but there were only two servants there, finishing emptying the shipment as quick as they could. Merlin was nowhere to be seen so Arthur went to look around the city to consider the damages. Seeing as there wasn't any important repairs to do except for a few walls to solidify, he made his way to the physician's quarters to see the wounded. There were many of them but none were in danger. He was also relieved to see Merlin wasn't there; it surely meant the man was alright.

He thought maybe he could try and find that young handmaiden who was with him at the audience and ask her about his whereabouts.

But before he had time to do so, the young prince of Mercia stopped him. He had questions about points regarding Camelot's kingdom and affairs on the treaty. In all the chaos and the matters to attend to, Arthur forgot about talking to Sefa and he forgot to ask Leon, or even Gwaine, to check on Merlin for him again.

***

Percival hated drills. It wasn't that he wasn't good at it but, if he was honest, it was a bit boring, especially since Arthur wasn't there. He was very busy with matters of the treaty and the foreign kings had mentioned being wary of concluding the whole affair. They had their own kingdoms to run after all and they'd already been in Camelot for a little over a month. The servants were growing tired of the extra work and the knights tired of training with the soldiers of the foreign kingdoms watching them.

They'd practised group fights with Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, Kay and a few others and now they were knackered. Leon was very keen on his new job as Leader of the Knights in Arthur's absence and he'd prepared a lot of things to do but, no matter what, Percival felt like they lacked a leader when Arthur wasn't there.

Apparently Gwaine thought the same, except he was far less skilled at hiding his emotions.

"It's getting seriously boring without the king; I can't wait for the damn treaty to end."

"I know how you feel."

Percival had never been the chatty type but enjoyed listening to Gwaine's ranting.

They'd been dismissed early in the afternoon. Leon had ran out of ideas for them to practice without giving away too much of their strategies to the foreign soldiers or their servants and had tell them to wait for him in the common room on the first floor after they'd changed. But not drilling didn't mean they had free time. In fact, they'd hardly had time for themselves since the negotiations had begun. If the kings failed, there would be a war. Apparently, Merlin's clumsy behaviour had nearly done it a few weeks ago. Even after the audience where the manservant had been retrograded, it had taken Arthur a few days to convince the king of Mercia that it had been the right thing to do. Percival felt bad for the manservant. They'd never talked much but he knew he unofficially owed his place at the round table to the boy. He'd been the one to message Lancelot and Lancelot had taken Percival with him.

He would have wanted to go and see him, just to make sure he was alright, but Leon had told them to try and not publicly engage conversation with the servant, especially not while the king and prince of Mercia were around. They'd all found this rule completely absurd, especially Gwaine, who had a lot of respect for Merlin. But they'd had so much to do in the end that they'd barely had time to even talk to a servant and assumed the servants took care of each other and that Merlin would surely be alright.

When Percival entered his chambers he felt a rush of cold. Apparently, the servant in charge of lighting up the fires in the knights' quarters hadn't come to his quarters yet. He didn't really mind, as he had more than enough skin and muscles not to feel it too much. Besides, the servants had much more work to do since the arrival of the royals and he couldn't blame them for forgetting a few things. He removed his armour as quickly as he could and washed. He then put a clean under armour garment on before putting his chainmail back on. They couldn't allow themselves to be careless and their chainmail was one of the essential things to keep on at all times.

The servant still hadn't come in for his fire when Percival left his quarters.

He crossed a maid's path on his way to the knights' common room.

"Excuse me, miss. What's your name?"

The girl looked at him, alarmed. It wasn't unusual but sometimes he wished people didn't assume he was the aggressive type because of his looks.

"Sefa, Sir."

"Well, Sefa, I'm afraid the servant in charge of lighting up the fires has forgotten to light up my fire."

Sefa looked like a statue for a few seconds, as if stunned. She then bowed a little, breaking eye contact.

"I'm sorry, Sir, I'll go and do it. I...I must have forgotten."

Percival smiled a little. She bowed again in respect and walked away quick on her small, delicate feet. Percival did the same. He wasn't late but he didn't like to make the other knights wait.

When he entered the common room, Leon, Elyan, Gwaine were sat at a table with two new recruits, Owain and Kay. Gwaine was sat in one of the four chairs circling the wooden table and he looked positively murderous. Leon was up and was having a quiet conversation with Elyan, glancing at Gwaine with a concerned look. There weren't any knights in the room besides them. However, a servant had his head in the fireplace. Good, then; it would mean his chambers would be done before the sun came down.

Maybe he's helping that Sefa girl to complete the work, he told himself.

"Ah, Percival, there you are," said Leon when he saw him.

Percival answered with a nod and went to take a seat next to Gwaine. He then looked at him.

"What?" growled Gwaine.

He was such a toddler sometimes.

"You look positively murderous, mate."

"Yeah, and?"

"And it's killing us," Elyan snapped.

Gwaine didn't say anything.

"Well, if you've got nothing to say, I suggest you put another face on." Leon suggested.

"I'm sorry. My rooms were bloody cold when I changed. It didn't do anything to help my mood."

"So were mine," Percival said. "I'm not acting angry about it. These things happen sometimes."

"Mine were done," commented Elyan.

Gwaine groaned in annoyance. He visibly didn't want a conversation about his behaviour. The knights stayed silent and, for a moment, the only sound was of some servants walking past the room in the corridors and of the servant, who surprisingly still had his head in the fireplace. Percival looked at him. He didn't think he knew him but it was difficult to say; it was definitely a boy but his garments were so dirty it made it difficult for him to know if the jacket he wore was grey or brown. He didn't think anything of it; the manservant was cleaning the fireplaces, after all. Getting dirty with ashes and dust was part of that job.

Percival noticed Gwaine was also staring at the manservant's back with his jaw clenched, visibly restraining himself from something. Maybe he's thinking the same thing as him but Percival doesn't know. He senses Leon shift and look in the young servant's direction before trying to regain a certain control on the situation.

"Well, since we can't train with that many foreign soldiers around, I spoke to Arthur and he thinks we should do advance patrol planning. This way we'll have less paperwork to do the next few times we go on pat..."

Leon was about to finish his sentence when a loud, banging noise coming from the fireplace surprised them all.

"Sorry," said the manservant in a hoarse, muffled voice. The servant coughed. The voice was so extinct by the ashes that must have filled the boy's throat that Percival wondered if it was even safe for a servant to work in such conditions.

But he didn't get the chance to ask because Gwaine was already talking.

"Are you nearly finished with that? You've been cleaning it for ages! I've never seen someone so bloody slow."

The servant stilled. He was still kneeled in front of the fireplace but his back was straight now. He put the brush he was holding into the wooden bucket next to him. Percival noticed the servant's shaky hand. He put a hand on Gwaine's shoulder as if to calm him but Gwaine didn't pick up and shook it off roughly.

"Why don't you just get out? Go get Merlin. Merlin's good at this stuff. And we haven't seen him in a long time, whatever he's been doing these days. Go get Merlin.Please."

The request seemed somewhat less harsh but Percival still sensed the annoyance and anger in his friend's voice.

There's another silence, in which the servant finally got up, taking the cloth he was kneeling on in his hands and squeezing it into a ball with his dirty but fragile-looking hands. He cleared his throat.

"I'll go and get him, Sir."

It was like air had been drained from the room. If it'd been slightly cold before, now everything was frozen, as if iced up by shock and dreadfulness as the young manservant turned slowly, his head bowed, to reveal Merlin himself standing weakly before them. He was awfully dirty and almost unrecognisable. Percival always thought he looked a bit like a twig but now was beyond skinny and his now oversized, dirty coat made him look even thinner. The knight could see the servant's bruised knees through a hole in the boy's worn-out black trousers. He'd always looked at Merlin differently because Merlin was a proud, stubborn man and had always walked with his head high even in the presence of nobles. But now the boy's back was slightly bent as if to express forced and absolute submission. His eyes were directed at nothing else but the ground and his head was down, as if permanently bowed. Because he was stood, Percival could see his features. He tried to remember what Merlin looked like when he was happy but there was nothing left of that man on this boy's face. There was no grin on the boy's lips, no spark in his eyes. There was nothing but the sad, tired face of a man who'd seen too much and not lived enough. Like the others, Percival could only stare. Deep inside his body, the knight felt shame flourishing, paralysing his brain, his muscles and his bones all at the same time.

The man standing before them wasn't simply in bad shape. He was utterly and completely broken, from head to toe, from flesh to soul.

From the corner of his eye, Percival saw Gwaine's open mouth and white, shocked face. Shame had already made its way up to his friend's heart. He though he heard Elyan curse, and he definitely heard Leon whisper a great deal of variations of "oh my god" and "what the hell".

Silence stretched between the knights and the servant.

"Merlin, oh...my god, Merlin, I'm sorry." Gwaine spoke in a pleading voice as he got up, walking straight to the servant.

The knight was shaking, trembling and stretching his arms with his hands open as if to touch his friend but Merlin clumsily backed away in fear.

"Don't touch me," he said in a sharp breath, not daring to look at Gwaine.

"Merlin, it's – it's me, it's Gwaine, I'm sorry..."

"Please."

Gwaine looked somewhat hurt at Merlin's fragile plea but he gave in to the servant's request. The boy quickly grabbed his tools and his bucket.

"Excuse me, but...I have work to do. I'll do your chambers."

He quickly bowed and waited a few seconds, as if to make sure nobody was going to stop him. He then walked out of the room without much of a glance in any of the knights' direction, keeping his head bowed and his back crouched like he wore the weight of eternity on his shoulders.

In the aftermath, the silence was so dense it could have crushed them all. Gwaine was still standing where he'd been after backing away from Merlin and he was breathing heavily. Leon looked completely stunned, his mouth forming an "o" and his brows shaped into a deep, worried frown.

In the end, Elyan was the first to move, getting up and walking up to Gwaine, but the other knight refused the attempted comfort.

"I...I didn't recognise him," Gwaine blurted out on a shaky breath. He wasn't angry anymore. He was shaken and Percival knew too well where it would end.

"Me neither. And I saw him less than two weeks ago," added Leon "He's a completely different person. He didn't look like that the last time I saw him."

Gwaine turned on his heels but stayed in place.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

The knight's voice was harsh, demanding and very dubious.

"Yeah – well, he did look a bit worn out, but aren't we all? It was before the earthquake."

"Before the earthquake? How is that even possible? We cross the path of every servant in the castle almost every day!"

"Except the night servants, we don't see them much." Percival corrected.

"Yeah, but the night servants are just new servants rotating shifts. He couldn't have been working at night for that long." Gwaine contested.

"He did look rather pale and, besides, he is considered as a servant in training at the moment."

"Does that mean none of us crossed his path during the last two weeks?" Elyan questioned.

They all shook their head silently.

"No. I don't think so. But two weeks, Gwaine, it's nearly impossible he – he must be at least 10 pounds skinnier than he was before, he..." Leon tried.

"I need a drink."

Gwaine stormed out of the room, his cloak flying behind him. It took a split second for Percival to get up and follow his friend out of the room.

"Percival, where are you going?" he heard Leon ask as he passed the doorframe.

"To see the king!"

***

Papers flew away from Arthur's desk when the door to the king's chambers slammed open. The treaty was in its final steps and he was reviewing the concluding details. He hoped it would be signed before the end of the week.

"What the...?"

Arthur was about to shout at whoever had interrupted his thoughts – and his only time of peace in four days – when he lifted his head and saw a very, very angry looking Percival standing in front of him.

"Can I speak to the king?" Percival demanded in an assured voice.

"Well, are you asking?" answered Arthur, annoyed.

"No, I'm not."

Arthur frowned.

"I don't think I've ever seen you this upset or disrespectful, Percival. What is the matter?"

Percival shifted on his feet.

"When was the last time you saw Merlin?"

The question was so unexpected that Arthur found himself bewildered.

"What about him?"

"Answer my question...Your Majesty."

Arthur got the impression that the title was meant as an insult. Only Merlin did that and he would have thought that Percival would be the last one to imitate the servant.

"Beware, Percival, this is no way to talk to a..."

"I'll talk to you as a king when you start acting like one," snapped the knight.

"What is wrong with you? Have you been...enchanted or something?"

"I could ask the same of you."

"Okay, that's enough. What's the matter?"

Arthur was standing now. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"We just saw Merlin."

"Oh, good, how is he?"

"Dying would be about the right answer."

"What?" Arthur exclaimed, shocked.

Percival's anger suddenly transformed into something Arthur couldn't quite put his finger on. There was shame written all over the knight's tensed body, yet he could see the shadows of sadness, anger and guilt trapped and battling in his eyes.

"He's..." Percival became hesitant. "We didn't recognise him, Sire. He'd been in the same room as us for a long time and we didn't recognise him. Gwaine shouted at him and when he turned to us we saw his face...Gwaine felt bad, he went to him, but Merlin...he flinched at the attempted touch. He was afraid."

Silence stretched between them as Arthur processed the meaning of the knight's words.

"That's absurd, why would Merlin be afraid of Gwaine? How could you not recognise him? He can't have changed that much; it's only been a month since I dismissed him from my services and he's probably been serving another noble since them."

"Are you sure?" Percival questioned.

"Well, no, but the steward would've done so, wouldn't he?"

The knight looked at him gravely.

"Arthur, he was sweeping the fireplaces in the servant's quarters."

Arthur was confused. This task was generally assigned to the newest servants; the ones that had to prove themselves and didn't have any training.

"It still doesn't explain why you didn't manage to recognise him."

"He's skinnier by ten pounds, maybe more."

"But Merlin doesn't have ten pounds to lose."

"Exactly."

The king and his knight stared at each other for what seemed an eternity. And during that time a tempest grew in the king's mind. What had his knight seen to be so upset about? Despite his intimidating looks, Percival was never angr and Leon had hawk eyes. What could Merlin have possibly looked like so that his right hand and temporary leader of the knights didn't recognise him? He'd have to check for himself.

"Go to the steward and ask him to send Merlin to my quarters, Percival."

The knight relaxed, his enormous muscles settling back to a more normal size.

"Thank you, my Lord."

He bowed solemnly and walked out of the room with his usual rhythmic, assured footsteps. Arthur listened to the fading sound until silence settled back into his quarters.

Well, before George sneaked in.

"Get out," Arthur barked.

"My Lord?"

"I don't require your services anymore today. Go and have a rest."

George looked puzzled for a moment but he still bowed and left the room without much of a sound.

It took so long for Merlin to present himself to the king's chambers that Arthur had almost forgotten he'd asked for him in the first place when he heard a knock on the door. He lifted his head in confusion, then, remembering his conversation with Percival, he straightened. He wouldn't admit it but, for a moment, he feared what he'd witness when Merlin entered. But he was a king and kings didn't fear someone's appearance.

"Enter!"

Arthur feigned reading a paper when Merlin entered but, if he was honest, his eyes were staring at the opening door with too much anticipation. The first thing he saw were Merlin's hands on the door, then his back and his somewhat longer, messier black hair. They looked freshly cleaned, though. He noticed how big the servant's brown jacket looked on him. But the jacket was perfectly clean, the same shade of brown as it had always been. Merlin turned to face the king as he closed the door behind him. The king saw his servant straighten his back and look to the floor. Then, to the king's surprise, the servant waited. For a moment, they could hear nothing beside the usual distant sounds of the castle's other occupants.

"Hi, Merlin."

"You sent for me, Your Majesty."

Arthur gaped. Percival had been right. Merlin wasn't thin; he was bony. His cheekbones looked sharper than ever due to a visible lack of flesh on the servant's face. The servants hands were bruised, probably due to work, but Arthur noticed they were also long and scrawny and very, very white. His dark, scruffy hair made his skin tone look somewhat whiter than it probably was. At least, Arthur hoped it was just an effect of contrast.

"Yes...yes I sent for you ages ago. What took you so long?" Was the only answer Arthur managed to articulate. He knew it hadn't sounded rude but he could've done better.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty; the steward demanded that I clean myself before reporting to you as he saw it unfit for a king to have a filthy looking servant."

Arthur nodded.

"Well, he is kind of right, but surely you weren't that dirty."

"The steward judged differently."

Arthur stopped pretending he was reading his parchment. Not once since he was in the room Merlin had glanced in Arthur's direction. The servant had his eyes firmly locked on the floor. The only thing Arthur could see were the dark, deep shadows under the servant's eyes. And then he understood; he saw the submissive posture, the sadness of the eyes. Merlin had been trained to become a submissive servant. A normal, self-erased servant and Arthur found he didn't like it at all.

What happened to you?

But Arthur didn't have the heart to ask it.

"George left a basket of clothes near the door. Fold it, will you?"

As an answer, Merlin looked around him, went to fetch the basket and emptied it on the table. He began to work, standing before the table and folding his clothes one by one, all in perfect silence. Arthur feigned resuming his own tasks but he couldn't stop glancing in Merlin's direction. Each time, he noticed another detail about the servant. His arms were shaking and he hoped it wasn't because of a lack of nutrition. A tight knot formed in his chest.

Why are you so thin?

It would be impolite to ask the question so bluntly. He considered asking a maid later.

"You know, Merlin, I never thought somebody would be able to shut you up," he tried.

Arthur regretted it as soon as the words escaped his mouth. That was a lame attempt at a joke.

Merlin didn't answer.

"I'm sure you'll be happy to know the treaty is nearly done. I'll send for you as soon as the royal delegations leave the kingdom. Of course, I can't have you around much before that."

For a moment, Arthur thought Merlin wouldn't try to continue the conversation, but after a while, the manservant finally spoke.

"Then why did you send for me today, My Lord?"

Because Percival came to me.

Because he said you were dying.

Because I know I've been stupid.

It took some time for Arthur to formulate an appropriate response.

"I should have sent for you before today and I'm..." Arthur hesitated. "You are a good servant, Merlin, and before your...unfortunate encounter with the prince, you'd been efficient..."

"Arthur..."

Arthur lifted his head and noticed Merlin had gone completely still. He had even stopped folding the clothes. He was seemingly still reluctant to look directly at his king and Arthur could see his pained stare locked down on the wooden table somewhere between the basket and the shirt that lay in the servant's hands.

"Please, Merlin, just let me finish. I promise I'll listen to you if you have something to say afterwards." The king insisted.

Forming words seemed difficult all of a sudden, so Arthur closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose in an attempt to clear his mind.

"I...I've been unfair with you, and I'm sor -."

Thump.

Arthur looked up from where he was leaning in his chair but Merlin wasn't standing over the table anymore.

"Merlin?"

He was up from his chair and around his desk in a flash – and then he froze.

Even with the bed blocking his sight, he could see part of Merlin's limp body lying on the floor next to the table. Merlin lay on his side, his legs slightly bent. The hand that had been holding Arthur's clean shirt was now crooked sluggishly on the servant's chest and his other arm was stretched before him.

"Merl..?"

Panic filled the king's body and before he knew it, he was kneeling beside his servant's lifeless body, his hands running through the servant's face and chest as to make sure he was still breathing.

He was.

"Merlin, wake up, please wake up..."

Arthur put one of his hands under Merlin's head and circled his chest with his free arm to lift his servant up, pressing him against his own body.

"Can... can you hear me? Merlin -"

The servant's breathing became short and quick and his body jerked in small spasms, struggling for more air.

"Merlin? Oh my...guards! GUARDS!"

Panicked, Arthur did the only thing he could think of; he laid Merlin on the floor again, picked up the dagger that was kept in Guinevere's nightstand and cut Merlin's shirt off.

Then he gasped in disgust.

Every inch of Merlin's chest was covered with various shades of blue and purple; there were long bruises crossing his abdomen in every direction there was something very, very off with ribs. His vision blurred, his body trembled, and he thought he heard the vague, muffled sound of something falling to the floor in the corridor but it wasn't guards who entered the chambers first. It was a young brunette maid who couldn't be more than sixteen years old. Arthur was pushed to the side without warning.

"Oh my...not again – Merlin, oh crap - shush -"

"A-again?" Arthur stammered.

Not quite processing the implication of the maid's words, he saw her kneel over Merlin and promptly shift his legs, putting his arms out of her way. She then straightened the servant's head so that it was aligned with the rest of the body and lifted it up. Arthur heard rather than saw Merlin's breathing become normal again.

"Merlin, come on."

The maid continued talking to Merlin as the king blinked away the tears that had blurred his vision. He managed to get himself to his feet as two guards stormed into the room, swords in their hands.

"Your Majesty?"

"I need the physician. Now." Arthur managed to demand with an appropriate authoritarian voice.

One guard left the room but the other remained at the door. Arthur ignored him and turned to Merlin and the maid.

"What's your name?"

The maid was still knelt over Merlin, verifying his bruises and breathing. She bowed her head respectfully but Arthur could see her attention wasn't on him.

"Sefa, Your Majesty. I'm truly sorry all of this happened while he was with you. I can go and ask that you get sent a servant for the rest of the day if you request it."

"No, not yet."

He had lots of questions and saying he wanted answers right now was an understatement.

***

With the help of Sefa, Arthur managed to move Merlin away from the floor. The servant now lay on Guinevere's side of the royal bed. Arthur didn't dare try to remove his servant's coat and tunic; he wouldn't dare to show it, but he was too afraid of breaking something, of breaking Merlin. He didn't want to witness the horrific breathing defect ever again, not on Merlin, not on anyone who was dear to him. Sefa stood a few feet away from him. He couldn't see her but the king knew she had her hands behind her back and kept her head down like any other good servant. Suddenly it hit him: did his servants act that way because it was the right way to behave? Were they afraid of him? He felt his head begin to spin as the questions swirled around in his mind, the words hanging in an order he didn't understand. He turned to the maid.

"Has this happened before?"

A short, important four word question. That was a start.

"Yes, Your Majesty," answered Sefa, her head still bowed.

"More than once?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Do you know what caused it?"

Sefa lifted her head in defiance. "Yes, but it is not for me to say. And I don't know everything."

Her voice was full of disbelief but Arthur had too many things on his mind to even think about reprimanding it.

"Why is he like this?" he blurted out.

He made a step towards her and the maid shifted and bowed her head again.

"Because he's going through a hard time, Your Majesty."

Your Majesty. Arthur knew he would grow sick of it if people continued to address him like they didn't know him, like he was something...something scary. He didn't ask further questions; the maid was clearly reticent to answer them anyway and adding awkwardness to an already unwanted situation only made it worse. The king stayed there, standing and looking at Merlin's body on his bed, his eyes locked on the servant's chest.

Thank god you're breathing.

After what seemed to be an eternity, the physician finally came in.

"Ah, Helias, at last," Arthur said, making his way to the old man standing near the door.

"I've been told had need of me," answered the physician while bowing humbly. Arthur noticed he had his potion satchel at his side.

"Yes, yes..." he hesitated, glancing at Merlin for a brief moment before forcing himself to shut his emotions away and bracing himself into the strong king he was supposed to be.

"I'm afraid there is something wrong with my servant. I need you to look at him right away. Sefa," he waved his hand in the maid's direction, "knows Merlin well and will assist you. I have to attend dinner with the other kings but I expect a full report on his condition when I come back."

He took his red ceremonial cape from where it was hung* on his wardrobe and went to put it on, but Sefa was there in a flash and in a few tricks of her hands she had his cloak perfectly fastened around his neck. She then promptly retreated and bowed her head.

"Have a nice evening, Your Majesty," she said timidly.

The king looked at her for a moment before glancing one last time at Merlin, who had seemingly not regained his consciousness again.

"I am expecting you both to be here when I come back."

He left the room.

***

The banquet didn't last as long as other feasts usually did; the main reason was that all the royals were tired of all the formalities. They unconventionally agreed that the treaty had to be signed in the next two days and that it had already taken way too much time to deal with. In the end, everybody seemed content. Even George, who was creepily happy to be serving his king for the feast, or Percival and Leon who were glad Arthur had seen Merlin. He hadn't told them that Merlin was in fact in a shape far worse than the knights had anticipated but he preferred to talk to the physician first.

The only grim one was Gwaine, who was shining with his noticeable lack of caring. They sure looked positively drunk but to the eyes of the other royals it wouldn't even be noticed. Gwaine had looked at his food as if he could eat it with his eyes and he hadn't even bothered to listen to Leon, Percival and Elyan's encouraging words that Merlin would be alright. Arthur supposed the main positive thing about all of this was that the knight was now extra careful about his behaviour towards servants.

"Your servants are all very good, Arthur," said the Mercian prince towards the end of the feast. "It's such a shame I had to meet the only one that wasn't worthy of his position. I am sorry for judging your subjects so severely when I first arrived here."

It took Arthur off guard. He hadn't thought the prince would remember Merlin, seeing as he was a right prat. He'd assumed the young royal had thrown a tantrum for the simple power it gave him (and his father) in the negotiations. He didn't know how to answer it, especially since the servant in question was probably still lying on his bed and being cared for by the royal physician.

"Let's not talk about it. It was a saddening thing and we ensured it would never happen ever again."

"I am sure," answered the prince.

On the surface it seemed humble but there was malice in the boy's voice that made Arthur hope for a revelation in the young royal's mind before the boy took over his father's throne. Otherwise Mercia would not be in good hands when the current king died.

"If you'll excuse me, I think I'll retreat to my chambers. I dearly hope to close all matters tomorrow or the day after."

He escaped the feast hall before another royal could try and engage him in conversation. Not that there was somebody who seemed eager to talk to him; they were all chatting between one another and slowly making their way to their own quarters.

***

When he pushed the door to his chambers open, Helias and Sefa were still in the room as he had requested. The physician was checking on Merlin, bent over the servant's body, and Sefa was sat on a chair near the side of the bed where her friend lay. He could see her face in the little mirror standing on Gwen's nightstand. She hadn't seen him yet and in the reflection he saw pain in the way her brows did a V at the root of her nose. He saw worry in the way she pursed her lips over and over. Somehow, he also noticed resentment in her eyes and it troubled him.

A gust of wind shut the door behind him and the physician started, turning his head towards Arthur. Sefa's eyes followed the physician's movements and when she realised it was Arthur who had come through the door her expression changed promptly and she got up, swift on her feet.

"Ah, Your Majesty. I'm sorry, we didn't think you'd come back so early on a feasts' night." Helias said, bowing his head. His satchel was open and various bottles were spread on a stand next to him. "I'm nearly finished with the boy. I'll go and get a bottle of dittany. I'm afraid I forgot it in my quarters."

The physician took a small bottle in his hand and went for the door, smiling uncomfortably at the king.

"He hasn't woken up yet? It's been hours since he blacked out."

The man gave a surprised look.

"Oh, no, well, he did wake up but he was confused and in pain so I gave him a sleeping draught. I gave him something quite strong so he would sleep through the night. I'll go get the dittany, which needs to be used when he wakes up, but afterwards he can be moved somewhere else so you can have your chambers rid of him for the night, Sire."

"Thank you, Helias. Your help is dearly welcomed."

Arthur went to the table and removed his gloves and cape as the physician walked out of the room. Sefa, however, remained still, head bowed, biting her lips.

"You may sit down, Sefa," he said and the maid looked relieved.

She sat down and tilted her head up so she could observe Merlin again. When he had removed everything he didn't need, Arthur went to look at Merlin as well. He wasn't shocked anymore but, still, he felt a knot form deep in his chest when he approached the bed. Well, his own bed. The physician had removed Merlin's jacket and trousers and replaced them with a soft, white shirt and black trousers like the ones Arthur slept in. He didn't remember Merlin in these clothes, but then again, barging into the physician's quarters after Merlin had gone to bed wasn't a frequent thing so he may not have noticed if Merlin had other sleeping garments than the old sand shirt and brown trousers he slept in. He could see bandages through the shirt and near the collarbone. He hadn't been able to see it clearly but there were blue marks near Merlin's neck. He turned to Sefa, meaning to ask questions again, but he saw what he'd noticed in the mirror a few minutes earlier. Except the simple resentment had now morphed into plain, barely contained anger. Her eyes sparkled with tears of rage that didn't dare leave her eyelids.

"You're angry about something," said the king.

It took Sefa off guard. She shook her head as if trying to chase off a thought.

"Forgive me, Sire; I let myself get carried away. It will not happen again."

She said it like it was her duty to do so but Arthur could tell she wasn't thinking what she was saying. He liked to think it was because of Merlin that he was now capable of discerning when servants didn't speak their minds.

"No, please, speak your mind, Sefa. You've earned it."

He leaned against the royal bed, involuntarily putting his hand near Merlin's. Sefa looked straight at him in defiance. Clearly, she wasn't sure if she was really allowed to speak her mind or not but, after a while, she went for it.

"He kicked him out, you know," she said.

It was Arthur's time to be destabilised.

"What? What do you mean?"

"Helias he..." she hesitated for a moment, bowing her head and looking at her hands on her apron. "He threw him out of the physician's quarters the day he arrived in Camelot, the day Gaius left. And then he took another apprentice, a younger one who has a mum, a dad and a house in the lower town. Merlin lived in a cupboard for weeks until I found out and, er...I took a mattress from an empty bedroom for him to put on the floor in the servants' quarters."

She'd said the last line guiltily but Arthur didn't care. Helias had arrived in Camelot more than a week before the delegation had arrived in Camelot so Merlin had still been in his service.

"It doesn't make sense."

"It's the truth, My Lord," Sefa said in despair. The tears that had been in her eyes moments ago were now drifting down her cheeks.

"But Merlin was still in my service when Gaius departed on his mission. Why didn't he tell me? He tells me everything."

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but there are a lot of things Merlin doesn't say."

"Like what?"

Sefa remained silent for a moment and Arthur turned his back on her to look at Merlin. He'd always thought his servant told him everything. He always talked so much after all.

"I don't know everything and it's not for me to say...my Lord."

"For how long did he live in that...cupboard?"

"A little over three weeks, I think. Merlin is stubborn. It took him his...his soul just to admit he needed help."

"Did he tell you why or how the physician kicked him out of his chambers?" Arthur was getting angry but not at Sefa. He was angry at Helias and at himself for not seeing that his manservant had been homeless for more than a week before he stupidly retrograded him.

"Not really. He just said that Helias didn't want him to live there, that he needed the space, and that when he came back to his room the night after Gaius left the physician had already assembled his things in a corner of his room and told him to find somewhere else to sleep."

Arthur didn't answer because there was nothing to say that would explain anything. He turned his head towards Merlin again and took the servant's hand. It was cold and bruised.

Helias chose this moment to come back into the room.

"Here I am, I'm sor-."

"Get out."

The king spoke in a low, defiant voice.

"My Lord?" he heard Helias' question.

"I said get out."

The physician had the presence of mind not to ask further. He left the dittany extract on the floor and left.

Silence filled the room. It was dense but it made Arthur comfortable and Sefa didn't seem to mind; he knew she was containing a smile, maybe just for the sake of Merlin.

"Please speak of this to no one. Do you know someone besides Helias that could see to Merlin's condition?"

"Yes, the physician in the lower town. His name is Marcus. He came to the castle a few times to see Merlin. We were worried down in the kitchens so we asked him to look at him the second time he fainted. He's not as good as Gaius but he's good and the cook knows him. He was very nice to Merlin."

"Good. You may go."

Arthur looked at Merlin's pale frame again. He looked peaceful and tiny, almost like a child.

"Should I go and get people to move him to the servants' quarters?" he heard Sefa ask from behind him.

"No. Seeing as I've been such a blind man in the last few weeks, apparently, I'd rather have him as close as possible, if you'll understand."

He didn't look at her as she left. He waited for the sound of the door closing behind her and he exhaled sharply, releasing the tension he didn't know he was restraining. He took the chair Sefa had been sitting on and dragged it closer to the bed.

"Merlin..."

It sounded like pure despair.

The king buried his head in the layers of drapes and warms covers and in the blanket the physician wrapped Merlin in earlier, probably to keep him warm without using the bed sheets. He stayed like this for a long time until the flames in the fireplace died and only the embers remained to keep the room warm.

Exhausted, Arthur went to take his night clothes and bypassed the bed to get to the side Merlin wasn't sleeping on. He crashed on his side of the bed like it was the nicest place to be right now (seriously, it was). He undid the covers and entered the fluffy royal bed sheets. He thought about getting Merlin in too but thought it was better not to move the servant. He dragged himself near Merlin and he wrapped his servant in a soft, delicate embrace by wrapping the servant's chest with one of his arms.

He fell asleep just like that, on his side, with Merlin asleep and close to him.

He was awoken at dawn by the sound of someone coughing.

***

The first time Merlin woke up, he could hear the low murmurs of people talking. He'd tried to move but then he'd felt a hand press on his shoulder and he'd been forced to stay still. Darkness had swallowed him again shortly after that.

The second time he'd woken up, he was in pain. He hurt everywhere. He managed to open his eyelids a little, and he thought he could distinguish the shadows of two people before a fireplace, but moving his head seemed to need too much effort for him to even try to move his head toward the shadows. Everything seemed to be too much of an effort and he'd finally decided to keep his eyes closed ignoring whoever was near him.

Where was he anyway? He wanted to ask, but nothing came out of his mouth. He realised in horror that he was completely and utterly paralyzed: he didn't have any control over his poor broken and bruised limbs. He wondered if he was dreaming. Maybe he was dead.

"Now, now, stay calm." said a soft, low voice into his ear. It seemed vaguely familiar, and somehow he didn't find it reassuring. Instead he found it preoccupying.

He thought he felt a cold, foul tasting liquid between his teeth before darkness wrapped him in oblivion again.

***

The third time he woke up, he immediately knew he wasn't dead. Dead couldn't possibly involve having your mouth getting that dry. He tried to cough; it took a few times before a sound came out of his mouth and his body jerked in spasms at the effort. He felt his set of broken ribs move inside him, but he didn't mind, he'd gotten used to it by now. He couldn't feel the pain anymore. In fact he couldn't feel anything. He hadn't been able to feel anything for weeks now: no pain, no joy, no sadness and no love for anything or anybody. He didn't even remember half of what had happened since his mother's death. My mother's dead, he reminded himself, because he still didn't accept it. Not that it mattered; hardly anything mattered to him anymore.

He coughed again with more assurance this time and the mattress he was lying on moved.

"Merlin? Oh my... don't move" said someone in a half-extinguished voice.

The bed moved again, and a short moment after Merlin could discern the sound of footsteps in the night. He knew it was night because there wasn't any light trying to pierce through his eyelids. Annoyed by the movement his ribs made at his every movement, he stilled and listened to the sound around him. He tried to speak, to ask"who's there" but it came out more like a mess of letters and struggling sounds.

"Whoderrgh...?"

He coughed again after the failed attempt.

Nobody answered.

Thump, thump, thump...

Someone was walking around his mattress. Who was it? It couldn't be one of the other servants, surely it wasn't time to switch shifts yet and hardly anybody came to him except for Sefa and sometimes the cook, who couldn't bear seeing him work without eating properly. He must admit the mattress he was lying on right now seemed far more comfortable than usual. He tried to move again and to open his eyes, but his eyelids were still too heavy for him to do anything. The warlock heard the muffled "pop" sound of a bottle opening and whoever was with him at the moment cleared his throat.

"Stay still."

But he couldn't stay there, unmoving while somebody did whatever it wanted to do to him. He panicked, and when he felt a hand on his right arm, and tried to pull away, to set himself free of the firm hold.

Get off me! He tried to say, but once again it came out more like a grunt than actual words.

"For god's sake Merlin, calm down!" The person said next to him. He recognised the voice: The familiar demand, the slightly annoyed and authoritarian yet understanding tone. He heard the worry, the plea and he stilled.

Arthur. What was the king doing with Merlin?

The warlock stopped resisting and lay on his back motionless, struck by astonishment – and maybe relief.

"Drink this. It's water with two drops of dittany essence, it's supposed to help with pain and it'll make you sleep some more."

Merlin tried to answer to Arthur, to say that he didn't want the dittany. He didn't want to sleep, he didn't want to dream. Every time he dreamed he could see his mother's gentle face and it made him so... empty, always, over and over again.

"Please Merlin, you need this. You need to rest some more."

There was a goblet to his lips and when the liquid poured in his mouth he didn't resist.

"I would've thought you'd have pulled a bigger fight for that" commented the king while seemingly putting the goblet back on a table.

The dittany was already making Merlin feel numb but at the realisation that Arthur was taking care of him he forced his eyes open and tried to sit up, but the king's hand stopped him and forced him to lay down with both hands firmly pressed on his frail shoulders.

"Where...am I?" Merlin managed to say after clearing his throat. His hands felt numb and he could sense his eyelids become more and more heavy at every moment that passed.

"You are in my chambers... the king's chambers Merlin, on my bed. I'm here, it's alright, just please, sleep some more. You need it."

Merlin took a deep breath and it made his ribs move again inside his chest. He heard Arthur move around the bed and felt it shift as the king climbed under the sheets again. The dittany's effects finally kicked off in and he felt numb and sleepy again. The last thing he was aware of before drifting to sleep again was Arthur's body pressing against his in a protective embrace and a soft, silenced murmur: "Just sleep."

***

The next time Merlin woke up, the day was far more advanced. The light entering the room from the open windows was bright and it blinded him. He looked around him without bothering to sit up. He was effectively in the king's chambers and he lay on Guinevere's side of the bed over the royal bed sheets. Someone had put a blanket over him and it was enough for him. The layer was fluffy and warm. He was pretty sure he hadn't slept in such a comfortable bed in his life. He was hungry and his mouth was dry again, so he tried to sit up.

"Don't be too eager, you will hurt yourself some more."

Merlin snapped in surprise and his neck cracked.

"Ow."

He put a hand behind his neck to soothe it while he looked for whoever had spoken. It turned out it was a man in robes sat in a chair near the fireplace. He seemed vaguely familiar, maybe like a younger version of Gaius and Merlin couldn't quite put his finger on where exactly he'd seen the man. The man jumped on his feet and approached him with a gentle smile on his face.

"You don't look like you remember me, do you Merlin?"

Merlin shook his head.

"I'm Marcus, the physician of the lower town. The king has asked me to look over you while he is occupied with his royal duties."

"Oh."

"You really don't remember me do you?" asked Marcus again.

"No." Merlin answered in a hoarse voice.

"I've been helping your friends from the kitchens to tend to your injuries since after the earthquake, before you had your little fall down in the king's chambers yesterday. Let me tell you I'm glad the king chose to interfere and have you checked after this incident. I didn't think you could take much more."

Merlin tried to remember in what circumstances he could have seen Marcus abut all he could recall was blurry visions of the man's face on a grey, indiscernible background.

"You must be hungry. You friend Sefa brought us some food, and the king told servants from the kitchen to fill a bath for you. If you don't mind, I'll take a look at all your injuries once they are properly cleaned."

Merlin's eyes went wide. He didn't want to bathe with someone else in the room, especially not a man that he barely knew, even if it was only because he couldn't recall all the times then had met.

"Please, no." He said in a plea while the physician helped him to sit up. He didn't know what to do; he was powerless, he was hurt, he was empty.

The physician didn't answer. Instead he went to fetch a plate of food on the wooden table and when he came back, he brought a chair to sit near Merlin's side of the bed. The plate of food he gave Merlin contained a lot of fruit and vegetables, and there were some meat too. The physician installed himself comfortably on the chair and watched him eat with wonder in his eyes. He didn't argue further about the bath.

Someone knocked on the door before he finished his meal. When the physician called the person in, Merlin watched as Percival made his way into the room. The knight didn't speak but he nodded to the physician. The man stood up and made his way to him. They had a small conversation that Merlin couldn't hear, and the physician came back to him afterwards.

"I'll go and get some more water and herbs. Sir Percival will keep you company."

He didn't wait for Merlin to answer and smiled at him as he walked to the door and disappeared behind it.

Silence stretched between Merlin and Percival who was still standing near the door.

"I'm glad Arthur finally took care of things." The knight said tentatively.

Realising Merlin wouldn't try to engage the conversation; Percival approached the bed carefully and sat in the physician's chair.

"Arthur told us what the physician did to you."

Merlin stared. He didn't know if he had to be glad or upset that his... homeless situation had been shared with the knights. But he wasn't sure of anything these days so he waved the thought away and took a bite of bread from his plate.

"You should have seen him; he was in a fury I'm pretty sure even you have never witnessed. He banished him." Percival did apparently know he would have to make for Merlin's silence because he didn't seem to mind being the one talking all of a sudden. Merlin found it surprising but he let the knight talk. "He banned the man from the city. He told him that if he wanted to practice again, he'd have to go in a village and find a house of his own. He shouted at him, and he said no physician worth of the Royal Court position should ever consider servants and other habitants of the castle less worthy of his hospitality or his services than knights and noblemen."

Merlin chuckled. The physician was not the only one Arthur should throw a tantrum at.

"It is true he refused to tend to your injuries? The serving girl -"

"I don't really remember, and it's not important." snapped Merlin. He really didn't want to have that conversation.

"I think it's really important."

Merlin shrugged and finished his bread. Percival seemed to drop the attempted argument and changed of subject.

"Arthur send Gwaine and Leon to get Gaius back to Camelot. He says he can find another physician to finish the mission although it's not ideal. Gaius really is the best."

"Good."

Percival bit his lower lip.

"I wanted to apologize for Gwaine's... childish tantrum yesterday."

"Okay."

"He shouldn't have treated you like this. He should never treat anybody like this. You know he can be..."

"Impulsive?"

Percival nodded, and silence stretched between them once again.

"Why are you like this?" asked the knight after a moment.

Merlin considered the question. The knights worked carefully with many of Merlin's superiors and therefore he thought they should already know why he is like this.

The physician came back in the room before he had decided on how to answer Percival's careful interrogation. The knight stood up without waiting for Merlin's answer and after a short "goodbye" nod he walked out of the room, the jingle of his chainmail echoing in the corridor until he was too far for Merlin to hear it.

The physician didn't spoke much. He stayed in the room with him, asking occasional questions that Merlin was reluctant to ask. How did your ribs became so bruised? Where is this scar from? What do you think of the royal bed? Do you need more pain suppressing potion? Do you want to sleep?

Yes, Merlin did want to sleep of a slumber without dreams. He accepted the sleeping draught the physician gave him and let the darkness swallow him into oblivion for the rest of the day.

Arthur came back after sundown. The realisation of a new presence in the room woke Merlin up like someone had screamed in his ears.

***

Arthur came back to his chambers right after dinner. He'd dismissed George, much to his great dismay as he was still assigned as his servant. As a king he couldn't deprive himself of a manservant and seeing as Merlin was...indisposed, he'd come to the conclusion he'd probably have to keep the boring man around for some more time. However, his acquiescence didn't extend to the privacy of his quarters. He'd asked Sefa, who knew Merlin's situation well, to come in during the day and clean his chambers and bring Marcus and Merlin some food at lunchtime. He was sure that when George discovered the subterfuge, he'd be angry. But, well, the manservant couldn't really be that much of a grumpy man and he would be unlikely to throw a tantrum over the king's choices and demands. So it wasn't all that bad after all.

Moreover, they would finally get to sign the peace treaty during a ceremony the next morning. There would be a feast at lunch and then half of the kings and foreign noblemen would depart to return to their kingdoms. Some of them were really, really eager to return to their home. They'd come to a reasonable arrangement which Arthur was happy about. He desperately wanted to achieve peace with the kingdoms his father had failed to convince and this treaty was a big step towards that once considered impossible goal.

Even with that positive turn of events, Arthur was knackered and stressed. There had been an argument with the Mercian delegation. Apparently the young prince of Mercia had been made aware of the special treatment Merlin was receiving.

"I've heard you treat some of your subjects with a rather...unconventional care," he'd said.

"It happens sometimes...in special circumstances, of course," Arthur had answered in a stiff voice.

"Do those special...treatments apply to the most disrespectful and arrogant of your servants?" It was not a question and Arthur knew it.

"Is this an important matter to you, Prince Bran? Has your father expressed concern as well?"

"No, but I did tell him what I heard."

"What have you heard?"

The prince had hesitated for a moment.

"I heard that the servant who was proven to be disrespectful towards my person not long after we arrived here had a...malaise while he was working in your quarters and that you are keeping him under your watch and care since then. "

"Whoever informed you was correct, my dear prince," Arthur gave the prince his most serious expression.

"So you would take care personally of a servant that has disrespected his betters? If he was in Mercia, he wouldn't have spent another night in our castle. My father firmly believes that every subject of a kingdom should know where his place is and respect his betters upon the punishment of misery!" The prince's voice was loud and expectant, but Arthur could hear the tremor of uncertainty in his tone. The man was evidently afraid he'd crossed a line there. And crossed a line he had.

"Well, you see, Prince Bran, in Camelot, people are punished according to their offenses. Merlin has had more than his fair share of punishment and he has proven to me that he is fit to work for me again. It is of great concern to me to realise how gravely injured my manservant is after a month spent working somewhere else than under my supervision and I will keep a close eye on him until I know everything."

"But surely his...injuries aren't important enough for you to –."

"They are important if I say so, dear Prince. After more than a month living in my castle surely you've noticed that servants are treated differently than in most kingdoms."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the prince was slightly embarrassed. Luckily for him, his father, the King of Mercia, had arrived at this moment. He'd immediately expressed his...objections on the matter. The argument had lasted some time and for a moment Arthur thought maybe he'd just screwed up the treaty, but then he'd found the right words to express exactly how right he was in personally sheltering Merlin until he was out of danger.

"In Camelot, people are treated as allies, not as enemies or simple servants. I need my people to be loyal to me and being oblivious about the state of my most loyal servant will not gain me any love from them."

"Could an idiot like him really be loyal? I'm sure he doesn't even understand the concept of loyalty." The prince had immediately demanded.

"Be silent, Bryn," his father requested.

"Merlin has saved my life multiple times, Prince Bryn. That's how he became my manservant in the first place."

"It's what people of lesser rank should do."

"No. This is beyond duty. No man's life is worth more than the next one."

Then Arthur had seen the King of Mercia's mouth break into a smile and he knew he'd won his argument. The treaty wouldn't be endangered.

When Arthur thought about it, he shouldn't even have had to convince the royals. How could any king hope to build a kingdom based on the value of ranks?

***

He closed the door to his chambers as softly as he could. Myrn, the physician of the lower town who would be replacing the disgraceful Helias until Gaius's return, had come to him at the end of his last meeting with the foreign royals to tell him that Merlin was sleeping and that he'd tended to his most important injuries. Amongst which was the servant's broken ribs. He'd bandaged them after he'd put Merlin into a dreamless sleep and he'd cleaned the superficial injuries.

He heard a distress yelp as he turned to face the bed and saw Merlin jump on the bed in shock and maybe in fear.

"I'm sorry I woke you up," it didn't seem to calm the servant. "Merlin, calm down, it's just me."

He made his way towards the bed in concern, leaving his sword and gloves by the table. Merlin put a hand on his chest, evidently feeling the new bandages that had been put there while he was sleeping.

"Myrn said we'll need to change them every other day until they are healed enough not to disturb you or even bruise your insides. He thinks it's a miracle you still have both your lungs. The broken ribs could easily have perforated them."

Arthur took the cup of water that was resting on Guinevere's nightstand and gave it to Merlin, who took it with both of his hands.

"Er... thanks," he said awkwardly.

"Myrn also said you refused to take a bath."

"Yeah."

"Surely cleaning yourself can't be such a scary thing."

"I didn't want him to see me...as me," the manservant was uncomfortable.

"He's...he's the physician, Merlin, it's his job to help you with those things in such situations."

Merlin remained silent for a moment.

"I know. I'm sorry." He finally said.

"Don't be."

Arthur looked at his manservant in wonder. He couldn't see the man who didn't care about rank or formalities. Instead he saw a broken boy ashamed of something the king didn't know about.

"I'll go and ask Marcus to gather the things for you to wash; you are not sleeping before I've found a way to get you cleaned."

"Okay."

Arthur walked out of the room. He'd last seen the physician of the lower town five minutes before; he shouldn't be hard to find.

***

He was right; the man had gone directly to the physician's quarters where he was temporarily staying.

"My King?" said Myrn, bowing.

"Would you have anything that would help Merlin to wash properly? He doesn't want to hear about it and it seems to me as it would be an important thing to do."

"Indeed. The last two weeks before you took care of things...I have used a lotion to clean and protect the injuries but it only has limited effects. I didn't force him today because it seems someone forced him to clean before he went to you yesterday and whoever managed this helped reduce the risks of infection. However, I'd much prefer to clean and treat his injuries using liquid lotions and herbal concoctions and I can't do that unless he agrees to take a bath again."

Arthur remained quiet for a moment.

"Couldn't he manage to tend to his injuries by himself?"

"I'd much prefer it if I could make sure they were all properly treated. It will speed up the healing process. I can't do much for the mind but I'd be happy if I could help him with his physical injuries, My Lord. And the thing is, as you may know, he doesn't want anybody to help him."

"Do you know what would make him behave like that?" asked the king. "I mean the whole not wanting anybody to see his bruised body thing."

The physician's face changed.

"There is a phenomenon that I discovered while tending to children's injuries in the lower town that could apply to Merlin but it is not something easy to hear."

"What is it?"

"Usually when a child gets a bruise while playing or working, he will cry, but then he will act with pride and tell everybody how he got the bruise and how courageous he is for that. However, when a child would come to me with a bruise that was a result of a punishment or - or even in some cases a beating, he would not talk at all, ashamed by the nature of his injuries. The servants would not tell me where Merlin got his injuries when I first began to treat him but I can assure you he looks more like the second child than the first one."

Arthur felt sick.

"Do you mean that you think there is someone in my court that mistreats servants for doing their job?"

"It is only a hypothesis, My Lord."

The physician bowed respectfully.

"Give me the herbs and the lotions, Myrn. I'll find a way to have Merlin cleaned and someone to tend to his injuries. Go to sleep, I'm sure you've had a long day."

Arthur stormed out of the room as quick as he could after taking the four small bottles of lotion the physician gave him.

***

When he returned to his quarters, Merlin was still lying on the bed, contemplating the fire.

"Hey," Arthur tried, forcing himself to look composed.

Merlin didn't answer but he looked at him. Arthur approached the bed. He didn't want to rush his manservant but, all of a sudden, the bath issue seemed urgent, especially after what Marcus had told him. Moreover, the last thing Arthur cared about at the moment was his pride. He'd been so much of an oblivious prat, as Merlin would phrase it, that he felt he needed answers and progress and getting Merlin cleaned was one step towards it.

"I...listen. I have asked Sefa to draw a bath for you in here. She'll be up in a moment. I know you're not comfortable with it but I'll stay here with you."

"No," Merlin protested.

"But you've seen me in all the possible ways a prince and a king can be. You've helped me wash for the past five years. You've tended to my injuries, you've seen me drunk, you've seen me sick, and angry and sad, and for what it's worth, you even had to get into the bath once because Gaius had given me a pain suppressing potion that was way too strong!" He chuckled to himself, looking at Merlin. "I couldn't even lie straight in the bathtub! Do you remember that?"

At that memory, Arthur thought he saw the ghost of a smile on Merlin's face. He must remember. Arthur didn't remember much of it but he'd certainly heard all of the ranting Merlin had forced upon him in the week following this particularly embarrassing night. Gaius had never given him the same pain suppressing concoction ever again.

"So, considering that, surely the other way around can't be too bad."

"But you're the king," Merlin pointed out, as if it was the greatest argument against everything Arthur was trying to do.

"Whatever. I'm - I'm just Arthur tonight. Like when we were sent to get that last Dragonlord and stayed in a poor excuse of a tavern for the night."

Merlin's face went grim at this comment and for a split second, Arthur thought he'd lost his argument. But Merlin sat up slowly and threw back the covers.

"Okay."

***

Sefa came with the bathtub and the bathwater moments later. Arthur had managed to get Merlin to sit in a chair without too much protest. Surprisingly, Merlin could still stand and walk at a reasonable pace, so much that Arthur wondered how he managed it. According to the physician, Merlin shouldn't have been able to stand or work that much for the last two weeks and his condition was a miracle.

"Thank you, Sefa," he said to the maid when she finished setting up the bath. She bowed, smiling, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Arthur locked the door behind her, as well as the door leading to the antechamber. He then tried to help Merlin undress but the man refused. He tried not to look as Merlin removed his shirt and...

"Oh, I forgot about the bandages," the king said. "Better remove them; you'll need to clean this area, too."

Merlin reluctantly accepted Arthur's help in removing the bandages. He hadn't seen the extent of his friend's injuries but as Merlin entered the bathtub, completely naked, he did. He was silent but he didn't look overly uncomfortable now that he was only with Arthur. The king emptied the first bottle the physician had given him in the bathtub. It was a simple lavender soap concoction. Merlin watched as the violet liquid spread in the bath.

"What is it?"

"Soap, Merlin, just soap."

"Smells a lot nicer than the one I had to use two days ago."

"What did the last soap you used smelled of?"

"Disgusting."

Confused once again, Arthur gave a small bowl to Merlin before going to stand near his bed to remove his chainmail and get into one of his soft night shirts. He took a moment to observe Merlin as he watched the bowl floating on the water, taking it, studying it, filling it and letting the water fall in a cascade over his head. In that moment, he could really see the helpless child he'd seen a month ago at the audience and he wished he could find a way to take care of the child in Merlin's heart and help him rise again into the silly, joyful man he once had been. Arthur was a stubborn man and he would certainly succeed in that if he wanted to. Merlin pulled him out of his contemplation.

"It hurts, Arthur."

The servant had his head tipped down and Arthur could see a cloth floating on the water.

"I'll help you."

"No. You're the king."

"Whatever."

Arthur moved his sleeves up his elbows and went to sit near Merlin, taking the cloth from the water. He carefully began to clean Merlin's back with another lotion and the servant let him do it. There were so many bruises and now that he could see them closer, he recognised some of them; there were several hideous bruises that had clearly been made by a whip and two that looked like they'd been made by a stick or something. The skin wasn't torn but he had definitely been smashed. Then there were distinct little cuts everywhere; near the neck, in the middle of the back, near the spine, in the lower back. The candles flickering in the room even allowed him to see some ecchymosed bruises that couldn't have been given more than two days ago.

"Turn around," he said when he was finished with his inspection of the back.

It continued like this until the bath lost its heat. He'd had to get hair soap on Merlin's head twice to make sure everything had been cleaned. There were even bruises on his head below his mop of hair. Some of the bruises on the servant's neck had somehow been made by a hard brush and Arthur wondered if it had happened the last time he'd had to clean, just before he'd been sent to his chambers.

"Merlin...in what circumstances did you wash last time?"

"Normal circumstances, Sire," Merlin said simply.

"It can't be. It looks like someone tried to skin you with a brush."

"I...the steward," he blurted out.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're aware of it anyway." Merlin looked like he'd done something wrong.

"Maybe I'm not."

Merlin refused to speak further. Arthur went to get a towel; there had to be some in the room. He found one in his own cupboard. Well, that's embarrassing, not knowing where your own things are, he thought.

"If you want to, I can send guards tomorrow to escort your mother to Camelot, I'm sure she'll -."

"She'd dead," Merlin cut in bluntly. He was staring straight at Arthur now and the king looked back in shock.

"...what?"

"You heard."

Arthur stared. How come he didn't know this? He was supposed to know everything that happened to those in his castle.

"When?"

"...two weeks ago."

It was almost a murmur.

Everything remained quiet in the room as Arthur absorbed the shock of Hunith's death and the realisation that if he didn't know about it, then there was definitely a problem with the communication inside the castle walls. Merlin had been working during the last two weeks, he was sure of it; Marcus had even said something about how Merlin shouldn't have been put on duty during the last few weeks. It sickened him again. He wanted to do something, but somehow he knew it was too late for that.

"Let's...let's get you out of the tub. The water is getting cold."

He wrapped Merlin in a towel as he got out of the bath. Arthur gave him the clean clothes he had in his wardrobe to wear and he put bandages back on the servant's ribs. There was no word spoken except for the short, muted directions Merlin gave him to put the bandages on in the way Gaius had showed him.

"Thank you," Merlin said. He looked at him with sadness, yet Arthur saw a glimpse of light behind his servant's eyes. It was gone as soon as he saw it but it made him smile.

"We should sleep," he declared after a moment.

So they did. The bath could very well spend the night on the floor; Sefa would come and take it away in the morning. The fire roared in the fireplace as he helped Merlin to lie on the bed on Gwen's side. Arthur always slept on the left side and that wouldn't change. He forced Merlin to get under the sheets this time and Merlin protested a little, which made Arthur smile. A protesting Merlin surely couldn't be a bad thing.

He blew the remaining candles out by himself; it was actually a fun thing to do. He'd never really done that before except for the one that was on his nightstand. He climbed onto the bed and under the sheets.

"Thank you," murmured Merlin after Arthur had stopped moving.

"For what?"

"Kindness."

"I'd always do it for you," he answered. It was true, even if he would never have admitted it if it wasn't for the present, impossible, disturbing situation he'd put both of them in. "Gaius will be back tomorrow morning," he added.

"Okay."

"It will be okay."

"Mmh."

Arthur closed the space between him and Merlin without a second thought. Somehow it seemed like the nicest thing to do. Merlin shifted a little but didn't deny the closeness. Arthur was relieved about it; Merlin had been so different when he'd seen him right before he'd fainted that he'd almost thought that Merlin was afraid of him...for good. So he took his servant's now pale, cleaned, slightly bruised hand and drifted into sleep while listening to Merlin's slow, rhythmic breathing, feeling the servant's exhalation on his face and sensing their blood pulsing in unison under the skin of their joined hands.

***

Merlin woke up to the destabilising sensation of someone staring at him, but he didn’t dare open his eyes yet. The night shirt Arthur had made him wear the night before was soft on his skin and the covers felt warm and, for once in the three days he’d spent sleeping in it, almost welcoming. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this rested and he actually felt safe for the first time in over a month. This was perhaps Arthur’s doing. He’d never seen the king so eagerly forget his rank for him. No matter how many times he’d overseen Merlin’s own lack of respect for these kinds of things. But now this tingling sensation of someone spying on him seemed like an intrusion to his privacy. Worse, he felt a bit scared by it and he could feel his magic bubbling with concern and fear inside him. His eyes snapped open.

His gaze connected immediately with the pair of sad eyes staring back at him but it wasn’t Arthur this time. It was Gwaine. Despite his generally nonchalant demeanour, the knight looked very uncomfortable in his small wooden chair. Merlin propped himself up on his elbows, feeling suddenly expectant. He looked around the room. The physician was looking out of the window, oblivious to the heavy and awkward atmosphere creeping into the room. Seeing as, apparently, the knight wasn’t going to talk anytime soon, the warlock slowly put his head back on the soft pillow. Gwaine shifted. Merlin looked at him, but seeing as he still didn’t look like he was going to talk, he closed his eyes again.

But he couldn’t sleep anymore, not while knowing the knight was there, at an arm’s length, looking at him like he wanted to be swallowed by the ground. Merlin could nearly hear Gwaine’s thoughts. In their silent rummaging they were far more disturbing than the physician’s low humming and muted footsteps.

“It’s time to wake up, Merlin. You’ve got a visitor.”

The physician’s voice was low and reassuring, yet it still made Merlin’s heart jump in his bruised ribcage. He opened his eyes and stared up at the old man.

“That’s much better, isn’t it?”

He didn’t wait for Merlin to answer. Instead, he took the glass of water Arthur had put on the bedside table the night before and turned to Gwaine.

“Take your time, Sir Gwaine, but I’ll tell you, waiting is always the worst of it all in the end.”

He left the room, light on his old feet and his robe floating swiftly behind him. Gwaine had his eyes firmly locked on his hands as if they were the most interesting thing in the world. The warlock knew how bad Gwaine was at this kind of thing, no matter how hard he tried. His manner of dealing with serious things was always to consume his shame in silence and generally Merlin understood that, but not this time. Merlin took the opportunity to sit up. The light coming from the windows was bright; it was probably near lunchtime.

He knew he should probably try to lighten the atmosphere but Merlin still waited for Gwaine to speak. It was irrational of him, he knew Gwaine expected him to do something, he knew the knight wanted him to do something, but some things had changed and there were things he was now afraid of that he would have to deal with in time, and speaking before someone of upper rank was one of those things. He preferred to let the knight speak first.

“You look awful,” the knight finally said after was seemed like an eternity.

“You too,” answered Merlin carefully. There was still this tiny doubt buried in him that wondered if he would get slapped for speaking.

Despite the low chuckle, Gwaine’s eyes were still on his hands. Merlin noticed they were bruised on the knuckles.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” Gwaine blurted out.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“I’ve been in worse situations.”

Gwaine frowned and Merlin saw a whirlwind of emotions pass through the knight’s eyes, visibly destroying everything he’d planned to say. His tone changed.

“How?”

“It’s not important.”

“But it is!” Gwaine exclaimed in a sudden rush of disbelief.

Merlin looked back at his friend, startled. His magic bubbled with an irrational fear of the conversation turning sour and he backed off, shifting on the bed. But he knew the fear wasn’t real, not really, so he forced himself to maintain a normal position. He knew it was just a ghost, an incarnation of the past month, the past six weeks since Gaius departure haunting him with images and reflexes he knew he would have to try to forget now that things were going to be okay again...hopefully.

“It is important, Merlin. We...we got Gaius back this morning. He’ll come to you after he speaks with Marcus. But since we got back, Leon and I...we tried to speak with other servants and it’s like nobody really knows how you came to be like...like this. Or maybe they just don’t want totell us. It’s frustrating and I’ve never felt so stupid in all my life and to realise that nobody really knows makes it all more complicated and...and maddening! What happened?”

During his little tantrum, Gwaine had gotten up from his chair but his face told Merlin that he wasn’t angry. Well, he wasn’t angry at Merlin at least.  His eyes showed nothing but culpability, sorrow and, as he’d made it quite clear, diverted anger.

“If it makes you feel better, Gwaine, I forgive you.” He simply said.

Gwaine seemed to resolve himself to further demonstrate his torment.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“What could I possibly do, then?”

Gwaine took a deep breath and the servant suddenly saw it: a wet sparkle in the knight’s eyes. Oh. The knight’s hands trembled as he moved to sit on the bed. Like a friend would.

“It’s not your job to do something. This...it’s my duty.”

“What do you know about duty anyway? You’re still the drunken silly man we found in a tavern.”

It made Gwaine laugh and somewhere inside Merlin tingled with something he thought he’d lost. Maybe it was relief, maybe it was joy, he didn’t know. Somehow he felt better.

“Well, keep using the king’s bed. Arthur doesn’t deserve such luxury anyways.”

Merlin chuckled.

“Where is he?”

“Arthur?”

“Yeah.”

“Saying goodbye to the delegations,” he hesitated. “Let’s just say it was time they went back to their own kingdoms, despite how fruitful the treaty was and will be for Camelot.”

“Good.”

There was a knock on the door and both Merlin and Gwaine turned their head to see Gaius open the door, Marcus standing in retreat behind him.

“I thought it was time for me to see Merlin,” he said simply.

Gwaine nodded. He patted Merlin on the shoulder, not wanting to bruise his ribs any further and without a word he made his way to the door. Merlin felt that this was an unfinished conversation, but things would heal with time and he hoped Gwaine would forgive himself...and never forget to treat servants like his equals again.

***

The last delegation to go was, of course, the Mercian delegation. They were very satisfied with the treaty and they’d wanted to talk Arthur into coming to their kingdom to seal it properly. Arthur had told them he’d be delighted when the opportunity would present itself to him. He didn’t think it would be before one or two years, though. There were things Arthur needed to attend both as a king and as a man. Queen Annis had told him once there was something about him that gave her hope for them all and Arthur thought maybe it was time for him to honour the statement.

Once the delegations were out of sight, both from the courtyard and the citadel, he turned on his heel. There was a lot to do but he believed the castle deserved some peace and right to function at a slower pace today. The only thing that was left to do for the servants was to clean the rooms that had been used for the past month.  He thought maybe he could go and check on Merlin before meeting with the knights and the members of council.

He was about to climb the entrance staircase when Gwaine came down.

“Arthur!” he exclaimed. “I need...I request to speak with you. My Lord.”

“Did you have some time to speak to Merlin?”

“Well, yes.”

“How did it go?”

Gwaine pursed his lips. He wasn’t ready to talk about it, apparently.

“It went okay. Doesn’t change the fact that I was stupid.”

“I’m sure he’ll forgive you eventually, just give him some time.” Arthur said tentatively. In reality he didn’t know if things would go back to normal, not before a long time anyway.

“But he said something to me and I believe it’s urgent that we do something about it.”

“What did he say?”

“He said he’d been in worse situations and it looked like he was speaking about the...problem Percival told you about two days ago.”

“I am aware now that there is a problem in this castle as you put it.”

“It made me think, all of this.”

“Oh, bloody hell, I hope you didn’t hurt yourself,” Arthur tried to lighten his knight’s mood.

“I’m serious.”

“I can see that and we should celebrate for it,” he patted Gwaine on the shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and review all the communication and hierarchical procedures we have established in the castle. It’ll be a start. Go and get trained with the others, Gwaine. I can assure you I’ll do everything I can to find out what happened to him.”

It didn’t seem to satisfy Gwaine.

“Did Leon tell you that we asked a few servants about it this morning?”

Arthur turned to face Gwaine again.

“Did he tell you nobody was willing to answer our questions?”

“Yes. I also asked the girl, Sefa, myself. She said it was Merlin’s right to speak to us when he was ready.”

“Except some of the other servants didn’t look like they agreed.”

That got Arthur’s attention. Servants, knights and guards passed by them but suddenly Arthur didn’t care about anything but this conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“What if...” Gwaine climbed up the three staircases Arthur had ascended when trying to end the conversation. “What if they don’t talk because the...problem is someone that works directly over them and if someone was to know about unkind practices it would affect their job directly?”

“Why would they be afraid of someone whose rank is directly over them? If that was the case they would only have to go and speak to someone who is higher than that person.”

“When is the word of a servant taken into consideration when it is against someone of higher rank, Arthur? Never. You know it. I know it; I’ve been banished from Camelot for that reason.” The knight said with a defiant stare.

Arthur stared for a moment and, suddenly, it all made sense. He looked into Gwaine’s eyes and saw the same thought reflected in the knight’s gaze. Without a word, he walked down the stairs and made his way to the dungeon level.

There was only one person with enough power over the servants to be capable of making them fear and Arthur had sent Merlin directly to him the minute he’d sacked him over a month ago.

***

Gaius waited for Gwaine to be out of the room and walking in the corridor to turn his attention to Merlin. Merlin could see his grey hair lying behind his head as he looked at the dismissed knight.  He had his hands behind his back; he didn’t express retreat or unease like Gwaine had done moments ago. He looked older, maybe because he was tired of the ride he’d made to come back to Camelot.

“You’re not doing very well, are you?” he said calmly to Merlin. It wasn’t a question but Merlin felt he had to answer it.

“I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t. Let me see your bruises first.”

“I thought the other physician had given you a brief description of my injuries already?”

“Nothing’s worth my own eyes when it comes to injuries, especially when it concerns you.”

Merlin knew Gaius referred to his magic’s ability to heal him faster and – as he’d experienced in the last month – to reduce the trauma and the pain sensation. He’d always been interested in that but he’d also been clear to Merlin that he shouldn’t let his magic do those things as it could be dangerous for his health. What if you were bruised fatally and didn’t know it because of your magic? He’d told Merlin a few years ago.

So Merlin let Gaius look to his injuries, even the smallest ones. It was fast considering the number of injuries the warlock had but Gaius knew Merlin well.

“It’s healing remarkably well,” he declared after he finished.

“That’s what the other physician said.”

“He’s right.”

Gaius stretched his arms and legs in the small wooden chair he was sat on.

“I’m more concerned about your mind, to be honest, Merlin. The flesh wound is always mended faster than the soul and yours has been under some extraordinary pressure.”

They were silent for a moment.

“What happened to her?”

“You want me to talk about your mother?” asked Gaius in wonder.

“Yes, please.”

Gaius took a deep breath.

“Well, there isn’t much to say except for what I wrote in the letter. When I arrived in Ealdor she was already sick and she had been for a few days, apparently. They thought it was just a cold, that it would pass, but when I looked upon her, I realised it was the same sickness I’d just treated in the other village. So I treated her...”

Merlin felt the tears come up his eyes but they didn’t fall on his cheeks. They stayed there, on the brink of his eyelids, waiting for Gaius to finish his story.

“I treated her with everything I had used in the other villagers. But it was too strong, Merlin, way too strong. I think towards the end she realised she wasn’t going to make it. She was very calm, very strong. She told me about your childhood, about what you’d done, about your father...about everything, really. She’s proud of you and she will look upon you even in death.”

When the tears finally came down his cheeks, Merlin smiled. He hadn’t really thought about it like that, but it was, he guessed, a nice enough death for the soft, gentle personality of his mother. He knew it would still take some time but Gaius’ words had somewhat made him...happier.

“Thank you, Gaius. I know you did everything.”

Gaius smiled at him.

“There is still another thing I’d like to discuss with you.”

“What?”

“The steward.”

“Oh.”

“How come I, or you, didn’t know about this? How come Guinevere never told you about all of this?”

“A lot of the servants who were badly threatened didn’t end up working as actual servants, I think. And Sefa said a lot for those who did become servants after spending time under his orders were just glad it was over that they didn’t want any more trouble. Most servants work under the cook and the head seamstresses’ supervision or nobles’ orders.”

“But how come nobody even talked about it?”

“Sefa did.”

“She did?”

“She warned me about the steward, but...”

Merlin didn’t finish his sentence.

“But you’re still your usual stubborn self. I guessed that one.”

Gaius smiled at him and the warlock felt a warm ball form inside his chest. His magic felt good about the whole conversation.

“Well, I’m pretty sure once Arthur finds out he’ll do something about it,” Gaius declared.

“Probably. He’s been very...nice the last few days.”

“I noticed that.”

“How could you? You only just arrived.” Merlin asked incredulously.

“Oh, you know, small things. I’ve been told for a fact that he tended to you last night. It’s rather impressive.”

Merlin chuckled.

“Would you imagine the young, arrogant Prince Arthur do those kinds of things five years ago?”

And then Merlin couldn’t keep it serious anymore. He burst out laughing at the image of the young Arthur he’d first met the day he came of Camelot. His ribs protested by sending rushes of pain to his chest but it wasn’t as horrible as it had been a few days ago.

“That would have been rather funny!” he said, taking a deep breath.

“Indeed! Keep laughing like that, Merlin. They say it’s the best medicine in the world.”

Merlin kept smiling but frowned, unconvinced.

“Who said such a thing?”

“The people I met in the outer villages. They don’t always have bad ideas. You should try it on the king. I must say, he probably looks as bad as you. The peace treaty hasn’t been very...peaceful from what I’ve seen.”

“No, it hasn’t.”

“He told me earlier that you mentioned your mother to him. He was very sad; I think he liked her a lot.” Gaius said softly.

“I think he did, too, yes.”

Gaius remained silent for a moment, but he kept smiling to himself.

“I have a story for you. It’ll make you laugh and maybe if you tell it to Arthur, it’ll cheer him up, too.”

“I don’t think I’m supposed to laugh, with the...ribs.”

“Well, you’ll just have to chuckle, then.”

And Merlin did. It wasn’t that bad; his ribs moved but he wasn’t in pain. It was probably due to the other physician’s potions though.

“Okay, go on then.”

So Gaius seated himself comfortably in his chair and told him the stories of the new, little physicians he’d trained in the outer villages. He told him stories of boys who wanted to be princes, of girls who wanted to help Gaius, and of the old men who asked questions about Camelot.

***

In the meantime, Arthur ended up on the dungeon level with Gwaine on his heels. He knew Marcus well as he’d been a steward for fifteen years during his father’s reign. He’d done several in town patrols with the man and had even reviewed some rules with him. His father had built a chart for the servants to measure their ability to work in the castle. He hadn’t really been in direct contact with the steward after he became king as it was his consultants’ job to do so. He turned a corner and nearly crashed into a servant knelt on the floor, cleaning the floor. The servant looked up, surprised, then, recognising Arthur, his eyes went wide and he bent his head again, squeezing the cloth he was using in both his hands.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he said, while nearly lurking to the wall to let Arthur and Gwaine pass. It surprised the king and he looked at him in wonder.

“We’re sorry, lad, you’re just doing your job. Keep up the good work!” said Gwaine in his most cheerful voice and nodding at Arthur to keep walking.

“Yes, Sir Gwaine is right. Now if you don’t mind, we have matters to attend to.”

He passed by the servant, who subtly exhaled in relief, getting back on his knees to wash the floor again.

“That was weird. I’ve never seen this servant.” Arthur said.

“He’s a servant in training, Arthur,” Gwaine pointed out.

“How do you know?”

“He’s scrubbing the floor...in the dungeons. And you just said you’ve never seen him before, which means he probably hasn’t been to court yet.”

“But it could just be a punishment and I could just not have noticed him before.”

“Yeah, except I didn’t recognise him either and as much servants as there is in this castle, I’m pretty sure I know all of the regular ones. This one is a new servant, trust me.”

Arthur nodded in approval. Of course Gwaine would know every servant at court, he’d made a point of courting every one of them, even the boys, and Arthur knew that. They turned the final corner before reaching the steward’s office. The corridor was dark despite the beautiful day and it was very cold. They could hear the muffled sound of people talking when Gwaine stopped behind him.

“How...”

“What?”

“How are you going to approach the matter? With the steward, I mean.”

“Like...a king,” Arthur answered. It was obvious to him; Marcus was a good man, he’d been in service for a long time. It wouldn’t be difficult to ask questions and get to the bottom of recent events.

The voices coming from the steward’s office grew louder. Then they heard it: the sound of someone being slapped and the muffled, high pitched sound of someone crying out in surprise. 

“...can he do that?”

“Well...”

Arthur accelerated his pace. He did remember punishments were allowed but his heart still raced. He’d sent Merlin directly to Marcus when he’d dismissed him a month ago and now his heart was filling with a form of culpability he didn’t think he could manage at the moment. He wondered if Merlin had been slapped like this for a chore he had done wrong. If Merlin had ever done something wrong it was because Arthur had always been rather soft with him. He didn’t mind if his sheets were wrongly folded and he didn’t mind if the fireplace wasn’t cleaned to perfection. Merlin was gifted with something that most servants lacked: humanity. He didn’t care about rank, he cared that the people he loved were fine. Arthur had learned very early in their relationship that he’d never get anything from Merlin unless he played his game; unless he, for example, agreed to listen to the servant’s incessant ramblings and he’d also learned that teasing and jokes would get Merlin in a better mood and have him do his chores properly. It had never been about an equal to equal relationship but it had always been about respect, about understanding the other and protecting the other the way they would. That’s where they were now. Arthur would lay his life down willingly because he knew Merlin would gladly do the same. It made their servant-master relationship special. It made Merlin special.

With his impulsive temperament, Gwaine passed in front of him, knocked two times and opened the door with a harsh push of his hands. The steward was standing in front of a crying maid who he’d evidently just slapped. His face went from anger to confusion in a flash and he let his raised arms fall down to his sides.

“Your Majesty? I was unaware you needed to see me.”

“So was I, Marcus, until Sir Gwaine expressed his concerns for the well being of some of my servants.”

He’d spoken with a cold, dry voice and Marcus heard it. The man straightened.

“It’s my duty to the kingdom to make sure the servants behave and work as they should, My Lord.”

From the corner of his eyes he saw Gwaine gesture at the maid to get out of the room, which she gladly did, holding her cheek and bowing shyly as she fled.

“I find myself rather confused, My Lord.”

“Yeah, we are too,” retorted Gwaine.

Arthur waved at him and Gwaine didn’t speak further.

“What had she done?”

“Sorry?”

“The maid you slapped. What had she done?”

“She dropped a bucket of water, My Lord. Lady Catlyn nearly slipped because of it.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

Arthur made a few slow, calculated steps towards Marcus.

“I am wondering where, exactly, you found in the servants chart that it was fitting to beat them if they made an error or behaved wrongly, Marcus.”

Marcus looked down.

“It’s in the chart your father helped create, My Lord.”

“Would you show me the exact article stating that for me? I need to refresh my mind.” Arthur ordered with a cold smile.

They stayed completely still and silent for a moment. Then, frenetically, the steward went to his desk and searched between the papers on his desk. When he found the parchment, he extended his arm in a gesture that made Arthur wonder if the man thought he was going to take it.

“Find the article for me, Marcus.”

So the steward clumsily searched the document while circling the desk back to Gwaine and Arthur and when he found it he held it out for Arthur to read.

41. The steward has the power to punish or correct a servant working under his commandment accordingly to how wrongly said servant behaved until the error is corrected or the servant is dismissed from duty.

Arthur had to reread the article several times as well as some of the other articles before and after it. It was so vague Arthur wondered why his father had even accepted it. It did match with Gwaine’s hypothesis: if the steward was the one mistreating servants, then of course they would be scared. He had the power to fire them after all and most peasants needed to work even in the worst situations just to bring enough food home for their families. He decided to change his way of approaching the matter.

“Do you know the guards’ code by heart, Marcus?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

“Then you must know what the article 3 is?”

“No guard or other servant of the royal army is to use his rank to achieve his means. He will never abuse his power to force submission on his inferiors.”

The steward repeated it as if he had been asked to recite a lesson. He didn’t seem to realise what had just happened.

“Did you abuse of your power over Merlin like you just did on that poor maid, Marcus?”

Marcus was silent for a moment.

“I don’t think...”

“Think carefully about what you want to say,” Arthur cut in menacingly.

So Marcus did.

“I believe Merlin deserved every punishment he has been given. Sir Ewan reported that he behaved in utter disgrace to his profession. I had to use all the means I had to make him understand how a good servant should behave towards his superiors.”

“By breaking his ribs?”

“I don’t think I...”

“But you did inflict harm on his body, didn’t you?”

“Yes, My Lord. I didn’t do anything differently from when your father was king. I did my duty to Camelot.”

“Are you saying Merlin isn’t the only one who’s been suffering severe injuries after spending time at your services?”

Marcus seemed uncomfortable.

“I only did what was necessary.”

“Liar.”

It was clear from the steward’s blank expression that he’d understood Arthur’s half muttered accusation. He didn’t answer.

“I want you out of Camelot by nightfall. My guards will make sure to tell me if you are still in the castle after that time.”

“But...”

“Pack you things and get out of here.”

Arthur couldn’t see Gwaine but he could nearly hear the knight’s smile. But he didn’t care. He understood now that Merlin had tried to ask him about the servant’s code, but, in his eagerness to see if he was alright he simply hadn’t listened enough to understand. Worse, he’d left Merlin to think the treatment he was receiving was normal and that he had to simply accept it. He felt sick about his own actions. How could he expect his subjects to trust him if they were treated in such a way? Was he even a good king?

“Come,” he said to Gwaine.

They stormed out of the room without bothering to glance at Marcus, who was still standing in the middle of his office in shock. When they were back on the court level he stopped and turned to Gwaine.

“I want every servant, every guard, who’s ever worked under Marcus’s orders to be questioned. I will not tolerate any other subject in my court to receive such treatment.”

He was trying to conceal his stress and anger but he knew he failed.

“Ask Leon to make sure Marcus is out of the city in time. We will revise the charts my father made, starting tomorrow until all the articles on punishments and treatments are revised clearly and correctly. And find the messenger. Tell him I have a message for him to get to Guinevere. I’m afraid she is needed here.”

“Oh, that will not be necessary,” Gwaine said promptly.

“...what?”

“Gaius took the liberty of writing to her when we told him about Merlin’s state. He said, as an old friend of Merlin, she deserved to know. He asked her to come back or write if she preferred to stay in the outer villages to finish her royal mission just so he could be sure to update her. That was yesterday. I haven’t heard from her yet but, knowing Gwen, she will ride straight back to Camelot.”

“Oh...well, yes. In that case, please just proceed with the other duties I just gave you.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” answered Gwaine. There was a proud smile on the knight’s face and after a quick bow he was running into the courtyard and out of sight.

People in the courtyard were still bustling on, fulfilling their own duties or simply walking with their servants. It was a rather beautiful day but at this moment the only thing Arthur wanted was to go straight up to his chambers to look in on Merlin. So he did, forcing himself not to look too eager, as a king wasn’t supposed to be in a rush; people were supposed to be in a rush for him.

***

When he neared the door to his chambers, he heard the muted sound of people laughing softly.  He recognised Gaius’ voice and it made his heart jump in relief. He opened the door and found Gaius by Merlin’s side, talking about something Arthur couldn’t understand. Merlin had a shy smile on his face and looked down, listening to Gaius’ story with rapt attention. The door creaked and both the boy and the old man looked up to see their king in the doorway.

“Please, proceed with your conversation; don’t let me interrupt a good story. I was only passing by to check on Merlin.”

“Oh, but you’re not interrupting anything, My Lord. I was distracting Merlin by telling him about the young apprentices I met in the outer villages.” Gaius said.

“I bet you met some funny ones, then,” Arthur commented while depositing his sword and belt on the table.

“Indeed I did, but in the end they should all be very good at serving their villages’ interests.”

Even if he hadn’t wanted to interrupt Merlin’s conversation with his mentor, it seemed the conversation was over. Merlin was still looking down but the ghost of the smile that had been there moments ago was still present.

“Let’s get you up, Merlin,” ordered Gaius suddenly.

“What?”

“Well you can’t really let the king rot in his armour, can you? Some movement will be good for you. You cannot stay in bed until you are fully recovered or you’ll die of boredom. Take it as a distraction. While you do this, I’ll go and prepare the physician’s quarters again. Your room will be ready for you today. It’s time for you to give this bed back to Arthur.”

“But it’s comfortable here.”

The protest was so muted Arthur almost didn’t hear it. He reacted immediately.

“I don’t think it’ll be a problem if he keeps sleeping in my quarters a few more days. The bed is rather comfortable, after all, and it is no different from when Gwen is there. My sleep hasn’t been affected by his presence, I can assure you that, Gaius.”

Gaius looked at him with wonder and for a moment Arthur thought he would get the eyebrow.

“Very well, then. But I’m still not leaving with you still in bed, Merlin.” He said in a tone that could either be very serious or a gentle joke.

Merlin reluctantly let himself be manhandled by Gaius, who deprived him of the warm covers. Arthur saw him shiver the moment Gaius removed them and he nearly pouted when Gaius forced him to leave the bed and stand. The manservant didn’t fall but there was a short moment where Arthur thought he wouldn’t be able to walk. Unlike when he’d been able to show an incredibly high level of strength and resistance to his injuries, Merlin was now as frail as a bird with broken wings. But he did stabilise and after a few minutes he tested his grounds and walked around Gaius slowly, calculating each step.

“I think I should be good,” he declared.

“Good. Now attend to your king, boy.”

Gaius’ words were affectionate but also very expectant. He left the room after one of his usual quick bows to Arthur. Merlin looked at the door long after Gaius was gone.

“Everything’s good?” asked Arthur after a moment.

“Yes. Let’s get you out of this armour.”

Like Arthur had done for Merlin the night before, the servant took care of his king, slowly, and Arthur encouraged him to do so. He knew he shouldn’t be overprotective of his servant but he didn’t want Merlin to have a single more bruise, not even a cut, not even a scratch. He removed the gauntlets and the braces, his agile fingers dancing around the king’s arms. When he came to remove the chest plate and the collar, Arthur helped him by changing positions so Merlin wouldn’t have to lift his arms so much. Luckily, the armour was clean and it didn’t stain Merlin’s – well, Arthur’s – white nightshirt. They were silent during the entire procedure, not quite looking at each other but never quite ignoring the other either. When Merlin laid the last piece of armour on the table, he turned to him like he used to do every time he finished a chore in the first few months he’d been at Arthur’s service.

“All done, Your Majesty.”

For once in a very long time, he looked satisfied with himself. He didn’t quite smile, but his eyes did it for him. The king looked at him with pride.

“That’s very good, Merlin.”

“Can I go back to bed, then?”

He hadn’t said it with annoyance or sarcasm. He’d said it with tease, much like they always did. Arthur looked back at his servant and when he saw the small, shy, tentative smile on Merlin’s face, he knew everything would be alright.

“Of course, you lazy, clumsy bird. Go back to your nest!”

“I am not lazy,” retorted Merlin.

But he still went straight back to the bed and put the covers back over him. Arthur looked at him, not sure if the servant was already drifting back to sleep.

“I sacked the steward,” he blurted out.

The covers flew back to Merlin’s hips and he sat up.

“What?”

“I...I found out about how Marcus treated the servants and I sacked him.”

He saw Merlin bite his lower lip.

“I didn’t even tell you anything about the steward. And I know Sefa didn’t either.”

“Nobody did. Gwaine and I pieced everything together. He was beating a servant when we went down to his office.”

“Oh. Thank you, I guess.”

“For what?”

“He shouldn’t have had that power for that many years anyway.”

“Oh well...I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re the king, you never apologise to anyone, let alone me,” Merlin muttered while lying back down.

“Well, I am now. I didn’t know about the chart.”

“How could you possibly not know?”

“I...it was my father’s doing and I was young at that time and...I may have slipped away while on duty and this was one of the documents I didn’t read properly.”

“You really were a lazy, arrogant royal backside back then, weren’t you?”

“Hey!” protested Arthur jokingly, “You’re still in my bed.”

“It’s not like you deserve it...My Lord.”

“You just made it sound like an insult,” Arthur pointed out.

“Maybe it was,” Merlin teased.

Arthur didn’t know how he was supposed to answer so he laughed and jumped on the bed right next to Merlin, who seemed destabilised for a split second before realising what was going on and covering himself entirely with the covers. He was probably expecting a fight but instead Arthur pulled him close, tugging him in a big, warm hug. They stayed completely still and then Merlin found his way out of his fluffy nest and looked at Arthur questioningly.

“Don’t change, Merlin. Don’t let anybody change you.” He simply said. It would never really be enough, but it somehow felt right.

They stayed enlaced for a long time, until Gaius came back and, seeing as he’d fulfilled his task of the day, ordered Merlin to get some more sleep. Over the next few days, it became a routine; Arthur would sometimes sleep with him, generally at night, with a protective arm over Merlin’s chest  until Merlin was healed enough to go back to live in Gaius’ quarters and resume his duties as the king’s personal servant.

***

It was never Merlin’s fault in the end; it was all Arthur’s. When Gwen came back - nearly a week after the steward was banished from the city – she gave the king the biggest lecture any king would ever hope to have from his queen. She had never worked under the steward’s orders but for a king not to know how other members of his court treated their inferiors was certainly not any way to rule a kingdom.

“To see the true value of a man, look at how he treats his inferiors; not his equals, Arthur.” She’d said to him with such authority Arthur was torn between fear and pride for having chosen such a perfect queen. Merlin knew that because Arthur has spoken to him about it for nearly a week after it had happened. If he was honest with himself, Merlin knew Gwen would be the greatest queen Camelot would ever have only with this event.

Merlin’s bruises were now fading scars but no matter what, Arthur would always find a way to look at them as if they were his own, as if Merlin’s scars were imprinted in his mind and he had to take care of them himself. Merlin knew they served as a good reminder for the king to never put any servant in the shadow of the court ever again. But for Merlin, they didn’t mean anything anymore. He was strong and the only thing he needed to feel happy again was the sight of Arthur being happy and, well, a good king. But sometimes the only thing he really needed was a quiet time in Arthur’s company. Sometimes it was at the top of a castle tower, sometimes it was during one of those quiet hunting trips Arthur liked to do alone with Merlin, and sometimes it was at night, when Gwen was having a late night with other ladies of the castle and Merlin would spend the night on Arthur’s sofa, looking at the fire, or having a nap on Arthur’s bed while the king made conversation next to him.

In those moments, Merlin’s magic would unfurl waves of happiness that were so intense he wondered if Arthur could feel the heat of it. But the king never spoke about it so he assumed that that probably wasn’t the case. In those moments, Merlin truly felt they were meant to be just like this, the king and the servant united in equality, the two sides of the same coin, protecting the other and vice-versa; seeing how calm Arthur was when he was alone with Merlin, or how relaxed he seemed when they would bicker and banter around like idiotic little boys, as Gwen put it, he knew he was at the right place and he’d gladly protect his king until the end of time...and he could trust Arthur to do the same for him.