"Camelot would be nothing if not for the courage and loyalty of its friends,"

-King Arthur, "Another's Sorrow."

"Well, I don't know about you boys but I think I will hit the tavern tonight!" Gwaine announced, quite loudly and with characteristic cheerfulness. Why he thought the news that he was going to the tavern was anything new was beyond Arthur.

As if he had heard his thoughts, Leon tossed a quick grin Arthur's way before tearing his chainmail off with the elegance of a man who had done it many times before. The smell of sweat and adrenaline left a salty tang in the humid air. Arthur watched as his most trusted Knights joked and laughed, despite the fact that he knew they had to be exhausted from training.

Three hours of fighting straight tended to leave a man wanting for some well-deserved rest, and though Arthur felt the same, he could not bring himself to leave quite yet. Night had already fallen on Camelot, and the walk back up into hos Royal quarters seemed too long. Besides, it was moments like these when he felt less like a King and more like a man. Because that was how these men treated him when they were alone, like now inside of the changing salles.

Most of the other Knights had put away their weapons and retired to their rooms to get undressed privately, but it was well-preserved tradition that the original Knights of the Round Table begin and end the day together. Usually Merlin would be there to help them out of armor and take away soiled boots, and Gwen would come down with cups of hot cider and her sewing needle to mend any stitches, but Gwen was with Mithian in the Royal boudoir and Merlin was helping Gaius with King Rodor.

It had been several days since King Odin had surrendered Rodor's lands back into his custody, and those few days had been hectic as the terms of their truce had been changed and re-changed and changed all the more. This was the first day he had been able to come out and train with his Knights in a week. He found it refreshing robe around fairly sensible and kind men.

"When don't you hit the tavern, Gwaine?" Elyan inquired with a chuckle as he chucked a water pouch Percival's way. The giant Knight gave a nod of thanks, grinning in that childishly endearing way of his before guzzling down the drink. He had fought hard and well today.

"Well, this time it's a special occasion," Gwaine told them matter of factly as he also let his chainmail drop to the ground, rolling his shoulders to ease some of the stiffness.

"You are finally going to cut your hair?" Elyan inquired teasingly. Gwaine snorted and chucked his sweaty shirt at the other's head. The others chuckled. Arthur shook his head, content for once to be in the shadows.

"No baldy. I'm not. I was talking about the Princess's staunch efforts to bring peace here!" Gwaine said, with a grin in Arthur's direction. Arthur cocked a brow.

"I didn't know that a hopeless reprobate such as yourself paid attention to the daily politics Gwaine," he gasped with pretend shock. The others laughed as Gwaine gave him a pouting expression, but shrugged.

"Be that as it may," Leon continued, chuckling. He grinned at Arthur, and the king had to squirm beneath the admiring gaze of one of his oldest friends and his first teacher. He had been so busy lately he had not been able to wonder about anything but his next task. He had never thought that anyone besides Gwen would be proud of his decision….

And Merlin, but Arthur always felt that Merlin's pride didn't exactly count because it was always there. It was not unalike air, oftentimes disregarded because it didn't vacation, changing only with the circumstances but never truly leaving.

"Your efforts are something to celebrate, Arthur. You have done much to see this kingdom into prosperity, giving of yourself to do so. We're all proud of you," he told him. Arthur couldn't help the bubble of affection and an ache of delight that grew in his chest at the thought that he had made these men-whom he so admired and respected-proud. He regarded the Knights as brothers. They had bled for him, and he knew that he would bleed for them without complaint or hesitation if they needed it.

"Ah, look! He's blushing!" Gwaine teased mercilessly when Arthur said nothing. The others smiled and snickered, obviously amused by his discomfiture. "If only Merlin were here… Hey, where is Merlin anyway?" Gwaine asked, as if he had just now noticed that the servant were not in the room. Leon, Elyan and Percival looked around, as if they suspected Merlin were hiding behind something. He was certainly skinny enough to be able too.

"I haven't seen him since yesterday," Elyan said, rubbing the back of his neck.

"What'd you do to him, princess?" Gwaine demanded sternly. Arthur blinked at him. Did Gwaine suppose that Arthur had eaten Merlin or something?

"Me? I didn't do anything. He's been busy helping Gaius," too busy to do all of his chores, anyway. That reminded Arthur that he had a bone to pick with his terrible manservant. His socks needed cleaning.

"Poor man. I bet he's had his hands full," Percival said sympathetically. Arthur snorted, about to retort that the only thing Merlin should have had his hands full with were his socks, but he refrained when Merlin's voice from a few days earlier echoed in his mind "How many times have you spoken of uniting this land? Will killing this man make that dream any closer?"

Had it not been for Merlin's support, or heck, Merlin's loyalty Arthur would not be alive. That earthquake had been a stroke of luck, but Arthur had been five seconds away from having his head decapitated when Merlin had arrived from nowhere. And to think that I almost lost him… They now knew that Mithian had tried to warn Merlin (of all people, why him?) that Morgana was in disguise, and Merlin had paid the price for his knowledge.

Remembering the terror that had swept through Arthur when he saw Merlin being limply carried forward he snapped his mouth closed, and suddenly he was extremely tired. As if the idea of losing Merlin sapped all the strength from his veins. The others must have noticed his energy suddenly drain away, for their teasing smiles and jovial expressions fell, and behind the masks of happiness he saw that they, too, were just as tired. And yet he knew that if he asked, they would fight this fight and a thousand more just for him.

He managed a smile. He would be nowhere; he would be no one if not for the loyalty and bravery of these men that he proudly took as his Knights. They were his light in the darkness; his allies in battle; they were his only family; and Arthur did not know which was better, having one or choosing one.

His parents were dead and his sister deranged, but despite that Arthur knew for certain that the loyalty and courage of a select few people would never waver. That was what he had bene trying to tell Rodor in the room. Not that Camelot needed Nemeth, but that he needed men such as these in order to rule effectively. "Get yourself to bed, Arthur," Elyan told him gently. "You look like you need it," he said.

"Yeah," Gwaine supposed with a fair amount of disappointment. "I'll just have to party without you princess, but don't worry, I'll win a few games of cards in your honor," Arthur couldn't hold back the smile. Gwaine's words were infectious that way. It was why Arthur supposed he and Merlin got along so well; they both specialized in spreading happiness and good-will, merlin through his support and Gwaine through his charming humor. That and they were both idiots.

"How flattering," he replied dryly, as he took their advice and prepared to go. He could see a bit of worry come into their eyes that he did not put up more of a fight, but Arthur was antsy to leave anyway. He wanted to be alone, or maybe he wanted to sleep. He was not sure but he felt the urge to leave. "Someone keep him out of trouble, eh?" He asked Leon, who sighed dramatically but nodded.

"I suppose we'll have to draw straws," he said. Elyan and Percival grumbled beneath their breath while Gwaine guffawed loudly, obviously very much amused by the idea of anyone being able to keep him out of trouble.

Arthur wished the others luck. And with a final salute to his brothers, he descended into the darkness of the Citadels' hallways and into the higher parts of the castle where Nobles were.

The trip up to his own quarters seemed unbearably long, and at each step Arthur's mind numbed into further mental exhaustion but refused to rest. Physically, he felt fine, but after sitting at the same table with the man who had ordered the assassination of his father all week, he just wanted to lie down and forget the world, or rant to someone about the world, whichever seemed a better option when he got to his room.

I wonder if Merlin is there to draw me a bath, a hot soaking in the tub seemed like just the great idea for him right then, since Gwen was away with Mithian and frankly Arthur felt uncomfortable letting anyone but Merlin draw his bath. As he had told the Manservant the year earlier, sometimes he felt as if Merlin was the only person on earth whom he could trust wholeheartedly and without hesitation.

He had learned early in his life that trust was a precious thing to have. One of those small unappreciated notions that made life easier to bear. And Arthur took easiest wherever he could find it. Goodness knew that he did not find it often, though he had come across many new and easier notions since Merlin arrived in Camelot. It was an odd thing, that. How one man could change him and his day so drastically.

After what felt lie three centuries, Arthur arrived. Nodding to the guards, he slipped into the warmth of his private chambers, and allowed his tense shoulders to ease a bit when he saw a familiar mass of black hair.

Merlin was sitting on his bed, one ankle thrown over his knee effectively holding a piece of his armor in place as Merlin scrubbed at a smudged spot with determination. The air was murky with the smoke from the candelabras and the warmth in the air permeated Arthur's bones. It smelt like clean linen and dried apples.

"There you are," he breathed when Merlin looked up, and gave him a worn-out smile. There were dark circles beneath the manservant's eyes, as if he had been missing out on sleep as well, and Arthur could see through the slight ruffles in his scarf and his unkempt hair that Merlin had probably been on the go all day.

"Here I am," Merlin agreed, putting the armor down. His eyes scanned Arthur up and down attentively before Merlin nodded. "A hot bath then?" he asked, as ever attuned with Arthur's thoughts and needs. The King could do nothing but nod gratefully.

Merlin hummed beneath his breath and, signaling for Arthur to sit down; walked over to the door. Arthur plopped down at his desk and stared at the several masses of papers needing to be signed and drafts of treaties that he had to approve in front of him while Merlin spoke softly to the guards at the door.

I should at least finish some of them, despite the thought, his hand refused to move. Frankly, Arthur wanted nothing more than to lie down and fall into an exhausted slumber but the work of a king was never…

The papers were swept out from beneath his nose before he could even dip his quill in ink. Arthur looked up, startled to see Merlin waltz off with his work. "Merlin," he growled, irritated. "Just what do you think you're doing?" He demanded.

"Saving you the trouble of starting something you're never going to finish," was the reasonable response. Arthur crossed his arms, wondering when and how Merlin had become so well versed in deciding what he could and could not do.

"Aren't you supposed to be getting water?" he demanded. Merlin shook his head as he laid the papers inside one of Arthur's draws neatly. Then, taking a small stick from the fire he lit more candles, illuminating the room with relaxing golden light and increasing the smell of baked apples.

"No. I sent a maid down to do it, and bring you up some dinner," he told him. Arthur gave a start; he had almost forgotten that with his promotion a king, it had also promoted Merlin to head-servant of the entire household. He was able to tell others what to do now. The idea of Merlin being in a leadership position was ludicrous to Arthur, but he had gotten no complaints yet so the idiot couldn't have been doing too horrible a job.

"How is Mithian's father?" Arthur asked; rubbing his eyes as Merlin opened the door to admit several young maids into the room carrying buckets of steaming water. They passed by, curtseying with each step and gently poured each bucket into the tub while Merlin made himself busy inside of his wardrobe.

"Gaius says he'll be fine. Mithian's wrist burns were hurting her but Gaius managed to put some solve on it, and gave the King some tips on how to cure a local illness in the western part of his kingdom," hmm, an illness, that seemed like a good topic to bring up in the next meeting. Perhaps Arthur could do something to help. He stored the knowledge away for later.

Arthur blinked as a steaming plate of food was placed before him, the tangy aroma of spiced chicken making his stomach growl. It was only then that the young King remembered that he had not eaten all day. He wolfed down the food as Merlin wished the maids good night and laid his nightclothes out on the bed.

"Where's Gwen?" He inquired conversationally, quickly snatching a roll off of Arthur's plate and shoving it into his mouth before Arthur could protest. Arthur allowed him with only a disapproving cock of his brows; too busy chewing to argue against Merlin eating his food again.

"With Mithian," Arthur answered when he swallowed. He took a swig of his warm cider, and felt the deep satisfaction puddle and pool in his gut. "They're on good terms. I believe I even heard Gwen ask if Mithian could come and visit for the winter festivals," he told Merlin.

Merlin nodded. "That's our Gwen," he yawned, sprinkling bath salts into Arthur's tub. The two fell into companionable silence then, neither willing to break it. After a few moments of silence that included Merlin walking over to finish polishing Arthur's armor and Arthur completing his plate, the king stood.

"I don't suppose you know if Odin is comfortable?" he asked as he stepped behind the screen to undress.

"He is," Merlin assured Arthur as he put a finger into the water, testing it. "Comfortably far away from your room," he added dryly. Arthur couldn't help but snort with dark amusement.

"I take it you don't trust him then?" he inquired as he finished stripping and gently stepped into the water at Merlin's nod.

"Oh, I trust him to uphold the terms of the truce," Merlin stated slowly, his eyes sliding to the side as if searching for answers in the cobwebbed corners of the room. "He'd be a fool not too in the heart of Camelot. What I don't trust is your mental capacity to stand him being anywhere near your father's rooms," he said.

Arthur was once again astonished by Merlin's ability to read his emotions and preferences as easily as if Arthur had said them aloud. Then again, he probably should not have been. Merlin knew him better than anyone, even Guinevere.

The two of them had been through thick and thin, invasions and attacks, the loss of loved ones and violence against those they held dearest. There wasn't a single thing that Arthur would balk at telling Merlin, even if he suspected that Merlin at times withheld things from him. Arthur had never wanted to pry, but he did wonder…

Who was Merlin exactly, the fool or wise man?

Scrubbing his arms, Arthur frowned. "So," he began, trying to sound nonchalant. "Your head…" he trailed off, unsure how to ask if Merlin were alright. He had never been one to show concern for others, and with Merlin it seemed especially difficult. As per usual though, the wiry man knew what he was trying to say even as he said it incorrectly.

"I'm fine, milord," he said. "Nothing but the occasional headache," Arthur nodded, glad that he was behind a screen and so Merlin could not see the relief on his face. Arthur was not sure what he would have done if Merlin had not been alright.

"Is that why you haven't been sleeping?" He asked, remembering the signs of sleeplessness on Merlin's face. The servant's silence was telling enough about his surprise. Arthur did not often express his knowledge of Merlin's obvious lack of self-preservation.

Merlin cleared his throat. "Er… No," the servant admitted quietly. "Just nightmares," he said, trying and failing to sound as if it were no great matter to be kept up because of stupid dreams. Arthur stopped scrubbing his back, surprised. Nightmares? The natural impulse to tease Merlin for being kept up for some nightmares like a girl surfaced, but his mind transported him back to those terrifying moments when he and Percival had fought for their lives in the cavern of crumbling earth, and he had swiveled in time to see a man raise a sword above his head.

Then Merlin, like a guardian angel, delivering a fatal and quick jab to the man's back with the skill of a man who had done what he needed to do. Merlin had killed a man.

Merlin, who hated hunting and pet the dingy, mean kitchen cats as if they were prized pure bred hunting dogs and couldn't stand tournaments because of the excess in violence. That Merlin had murdered a man to save his king, and Arthur suddenly perked up when it hit him just what Merlin could have had nightmares about. He remembered his first kill vividly, after all.

"Is it about the man you stabbed?" he inquired, with candid sympathy. Merlin's continued silence was enough of an answer. Arthur sighed and continued washing himself. He knew that there was little that he could say to console Merlin. There was nothing that could make his sort of pain go away.

"You did what you had to do, Merlin," he told his manservant quietly, feeling the need to say something.

"I know," Merlin came around the screen, a towel in his hands. Arthur glanced up. His friend looked ten times older than he had a few days before. His eyes sunken in, his shoulders hunched beneath an invisible but overwhelming weight. Arthur felt pity stab his heart. He had thought it before, and the thought crossed his mind again that Merlin doesn't deserve this.

He did not deserve to give of himself like a Knight for a king that couldn't even rid his kingdom of his own sister's malicious influence. He did not deserve to be miles away from his mother to prance about after Arthur adventure after adventure with the knowledge that he might not come back.

He didn't deserve the pain that Arthur saw in his eyes and the strained smile that Merlin tried to pull off to assuage him. He deserved so much better. Merlin was a good man, and one of the most loyal and courageous that Arthur had ever met for all his skinny appearance deceived the common eye.

Arthur had never had a friend like Merlin-had never dreamed to have a friend at all before Merlin came along. And though he never did say it, the younger man had become even more a brother to him than the Knights.

Arthur suspected Merlin knew this-especially taking into account the number of times that Arthur had pushed Merlin behind him during an attack, flashing his sword in an arc that left him open, but shielded the other man against any attack, or every time that he pushed Merlin ahead when retreating, shielding the younger man's unprotected back with his own; he had offered his life for Merlin's, once.

And he would do it again in a heartbeat. Perhaps that was what made it hard to see that he looked so tired, so defeated, so guilty. More guilty than any person like Merlin deserved to be.

Arthur's heart ached for his friend, who he knew better than he knew himself. He had almost lost Merlin only a few days earlier, and for all that Merlin did not deserve his lot in life and Arthur complained about him…The King honestly knew that if something should ever happen to the other man, Arthur would never be able to get out of bed again. He would fade away, consumed by grief and guilt like his father had when Morgana betrayed them.

Realizing that he had been staring, he took the offered towel from Merlin, and wrapped it around his waist as he stepped out of the tub. Merlin turned around, whisking over to take Arthur's empty dishes away. He came back in time to help Arthur into his nightclothes.

Perhaps I should let him off early, Arthur contemplated, his worry for the other man increasing as Merlin's insistent chatter continuously strayed from topic. That idea was dashed when Arthur saw Merlin suddenly cringe and a hand reached up to rub at his right shoulder absently.

"What's wrong with your shoulder?" Arthur asked as he let the soft cottony shirt fall over his head. Merlin shook his head and rubbed at it again, shrugging with a cringe.

"I think I pulled something during our travels," Merlin replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. He smiled teasingly at Arthur. "Why so many questions all of a sudden, sire? Is it possible that you're worried about me?" he pretended to gasp.

Arthur glared at him, though he had to admit that worry was the primary emotion gnawing at his gut. "Not in your lifetime," he replied haughtily, instead. Merlin grinned.

"Good. Can't have you asking too many questions, now can we? Or else you'd figure out all my secrets." He continued with false cheerfulness as he smoothed out the wrinkles in Arthurs bed. Arthur watched him curiously, saw how stiffly Merlin was moving, how sluggish his movements.

"Whatever secrets you possess surely aren't worth my time, Merlin" he informed the other.

"If you say so, prat," Merlin shrugged again and stood by his bed, yawning. "Get into bed already, would you?" He remarked. Arthur didn't move from his spot by the wardrobe.

"Does Gaius need you again tonight?" he surprised himself by asking. Merlin raised a quizzical eyebrow that reminded Arthur scarily of Gaius.

"No. He's bound to be asleep by now. Why?" Merlin wondered. Arthur blinked a few times. Why had he asked Merlin that? Because you've been thinking about how easily it could be to lose him like you've lost everyone else, and how many times he's rode at your side into a danger he doesn't deserve… And you can't help but think that this Kingdom is the pone he helped you build, All of these thoughts, however true, caused Arthur to shift uncomfortably where he stood.

He was the King of Camelot, for goodness sakes. Fearless warrior. Ingenious leader. Emotionless strategist. If Odin knew that he cared for a lowly serving boy more than Arthur let on…If any king knew… What would they say? What would his men and people think?

Does it matter?

It did matter…On a regular basis, but this was a special occasion like Gwaine had said. He had made peace with an old enemy, now it was time to make peace with an old friend. "Then lie down," he ordered gruffly, his mind made up. Merlin's expression morphed into one of such honest confusion that it was comical.

"You want me to what?" The servant gasped. Arthur did not rescind his judgment, instead walked towards merlin threateningly.

"You heard me," Arthur replied sternly crossing his arms. Merlin was unintimidated by the stature. He merely raised both brows.

"Yes I did. Now why do you want me to lie down? And where?" He asked. Arthur became aware that he had not specified.

"On my bed, of course," because that did not sound extremely weird.

"On your… Arthur, why exactly am I getting on your bed?" Merlin asked; sounding as if he half suspected Arthur was making fun of him and half suspected that Arthur was drunk. Arthur felt irritation bubble beneath his resolve. Here he was trying to do something nice for the moron and all Merlin could do was question his motives.

"Merlin, do you trust me?" he demanded.

"While you're telling me to get on your bed? No!" Was the instant response as Merlin took two wary steps back. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I'm not going to…Ugh, Merlin, for the love of Camelot, just trust me on this one," he said. Merlin stared at him, sapphires meeting sapphires in a blazing spectacle of unsureness. That hesitance almost made Arthur back down in hurt and anger.

He trusted Merlin with his life. If Merlin had requested the same of him, he would have thought it odd but not questioned it. Why was Merlin so reluctant to trust Arthur? What had he done to prove that he was untrustworthy? As many times as I have saved the man, you'd think he… Arthur sighed. Merlin's reluctance should not have hurt him so much, but it did.

However, just as Arthur was about to give up, Merlin saw something in his eyes that made him nod slowly and quietly do as Arthur said. As Arthur watched, Merlin tenderly climbed into his bed, rumpling the covers grouchily as he went, and laid down on his back watching Arthur expectantly. There was still curiosity in his eyes, but no more wariness. He trusted Arthur. The King smiled reassuringly.

"Good. On your stomach then," he ordered as he quickly climbed in after Merlin. The servant sighed and obeyed, turning so that his back was to Arthur and his chin was in his hands.

"Now will you tell me what this is about?" The servant then grumbled with a quiet hiss as one of his over-taxed muscles protested the movement. Arthur did not answer.

Instead, he only let the thoughts of the times that Merlin had offered his own safety and integrity for Arthur's sake, the treatment he underwent for Camelot flood his mind as he moved forward with the speed of a panther. He had snatched Merlin's scarf off-not without protest and passionate complaint- and dug his fingers into Merlin's neck and shoulders before the Manservant could think to stop him.

At first, Merlin hissed in agony and stiffened upon feeling the first wave of sharp agony wash over him. Arthur did not slacken his tight grip on the tense muscles, and after a second he felt a ripple beneath his fingers as he loosened knots. Merlin let out a small groan of relief, going as limp as a rag doll beneath Arthur's steady hands.

"You have more knots than you have brains, Merlin," Arthur said, not without worry. Had all of these adventures really affected Merlin so much? Was this recent? It did not feel like it. The buildup of knots beneath his hands were muscles tensed day after day years in the making. These were the muscles of a Knight after a long campaign, not a servant.

"Shut up, prat," Merlin said without much threat into Arthur's pillows, his eyes closed and face relaxed into bliss as Arthur's thumbs worked at the back of his neck. "Your head is bigger than your waist," was his lame comeback. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"I should think you'd be wiser with your words around me, Merlin," he said. "Considering the fact that I have you at an obvious disadvantage," to prove his point, he honed in on Merlin's spine, doing some quick jabs that resulted in several popping noises and Merlin crying out as he stiffened again in sudden agony, and then relaxed with a long exhalation of apparent relief. He chuckled softly.

"Prat," was Merlin's breathless response. Arthur smiled, suitably pleased with himself for making his point known. It was not every day that he was able to assert some sort of dominance over Merlin after all, mainly because the other man never paid attention when he tried.

Merlin had the slightly endearing idea that titles did not matter, and even if someone were to convince him that they did, Arthur knew that his friend would not care in the slightest. Merlin was the type of person who would always call him Arthur. The only time that he didn't was when they were in the presence of other nobles, and that was more for Arthur's sake than Merlin's, the King knew.

The two remained in another compatible silence; Merlin relaxing more and more with every muscle that Arthur managed to loosen. After a moment, Arthur could not help but ask softly "how's Hunith doing?" he knew that Merlin wrote her letters almost every day.

He did not have to see Merlin's face to know that his friend was grinning. The mention of Merlin's mother never failed to bring a smile to the other man's face, no matter the circumstances. "She's well enough. Ealdor's crops didn't do very well this year, but the livestock had a sudden influx of babies for some reason. There is plenty of meat," he reported cheerfully.

Arthur nodded, as always a bit curious about the going on's of farm life. "She doesn't still sleep on the floor, does she?" He asked worriedly. Merlin rolled his eyes with fond exasperation.

"They all sleep on the ground, Arthur. I've tried to convince her to move to Camelot with me, but she just won't. Her ancestors grew up on that land. She was born in Ealdor. She feels a tie to it," he explained. Arthur could hear the frustration and worry behind the neutral words in his voice. Ealdor was in Cenred's kingdom, and it was not unknown that at times Cenred could be a cruel and unjust king. Gwen and Gaius continuously worried about Hunith, and Merlin more than anyone. Ever since that band of marauders had come those few years ago…

"We'll have to make up an excuse to get her here, then," he muttered, his own worry growing. He cared about Hunith too, and had found that at times her face had become the one to obscure what he had supposed his mother to look like. Merlin nodded and shifted a bit as Arthur pressed his elbow into his back, smoothing over a particularly tough nerve. Merlin patiently clenched his teeth, hissing through the pain.

"Like what? Gaius is getting married?" he scoffed. Arthur snickered.

"It isn't a bad excuse," he supposed.

"She would laugh at me in letter form! No, my mother is too clever. The cleverest person I have ever known, actually. Hey, isn't your birthday coming up? She'd show for that," Merlin suggested.

"My birthday?" Arthur asked, surprised. "Why would she come to mine?" He asked. Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Because, dollophead, for some unexplainable reason she likes you. It's a mystery really. She'll come if she you ask it of her," he told Arthur knowingly. Arthur felt a bit of discomfort grew in his chest. He had always known that Hunith did not dislike him, but he had never supposed that the older woman had any sport of special fondness for him, merely the friend of her son a million miles away. And a friend who constantly dragged her son into misadventures, too. Or did Merlin ever even add parts of that into his letters?

"Like mother, like son, I suppose," he muttered with some amount of affection. Merlin hummed beneath his breath.

"True. It's a mystery why I like you either," Merlin agreed with a small chuckle. Arthur delivered less than gentle slap upside the idiots head, though he secretly agreed. Merlin chuckled and rubbed the back of his head.

"Instead of having her come here, why don't you go there? For a visit?" Arthur suggested. Merlin gave him an odd glance over his shoulder.

"After this latest episode? I think not. You're going to have your hands full Arthur, and…Oh. Oh. To the left a little, yeah, right…Right there. Yeah. That's nice, really nice. Thank you. Anyway, what was I saying?" Merlin smacked his lips sleepily and yawned, laying his head on his arms luxuriously. The way he was making himself comfortable on Arthur's bed would have been slightly irritating if Arthur were not preoccupied working on a particularly stubborn knot in Merlin's upper back, pressing and massaging the thing until it finally softened into pliable, yielding muscle once more instead of the bone-hard rock it had become.

Merlin exhaled slowly when it did, his eyelids drooping. Arthur imagined the smell of baked apples and low setting of light would be enough to make anyone tired, especially considering Merlin was on the bed of royalty.

"I don't depend on you so very much, idiot," he scolded, to keep Merlin awake. Despite the fact that many people would think a King giving his servant a massage improper enough, if someone came in and found Merlin fast asleep in the royal bed, well…

Arthur shuddered to think of the rumors that would spread. It would be mortifying for both of them and devastating. No one would ever want to sign any contracts with Camelot again. "Do too," was Merlin's groggy reply.

"I do not, Merlin. And don't use your station here as an excuse. You need to see Hunith more often. I'm sure she worries about you," a guilt silence, in which Arthur had the feeling that he had touched upon a delicate nerve, one that could not simply be massaged out again. He waited patiently for whatever Merlin might say next.

"I'm sure she does, too," was all he had to say then, quietly.

Arthur pressed for more information, for reasons that were as much a mystery to him as he was sure they were to Merlin. "When you decide to come to Camelot…She didn't want you to come, did she?" He asked hesitantly, and they both knew that he did not mean the usual over-protective parent care, but something deeper.

She had been afraid for him. Even eh few times he had gone with Merlin to visit, he had known that. He had seen the fear in her eye as she waved them goodbye, and wondered does she fear him being beside me? Merlin stiffened immediately, and Arthur knew that he had once more hit a nerve.

Abruptly Merlin sat up, very nearly bonking heads with Arthur as he did. The other man rubbed the back of his neck, eyes shadowed in the dim light. "Why are you asking me these things Arthur?" he demanded, almost fearfully as if he were afraid Arthur suspected him of some criminal act.

Arthur wondered whenever Merlin thought that every time he started asking questions that he wanted something or to hurt him in some way. The man only got this twitchy when Arthur started asking about magic. He rolled his eyes, trying to put on a mask of nonchalance.

"I don't know, Merlin…Am I forbidden to be curious about your nonexistent life and your stupid hobbies?" He asked. Merlin was eying him warily.

"I'm a servant," he pointed out matter of factly. Arthur felt irritation bubble beneath the servant.

"Tell me something, Merlin, if you were only 'a servant'; do you think I would allow you to rest on my bed or interrupt my paperwork, eat off my plate or even bother enough to loosen your ridiculously stupid muscle knots?" he asked. It occurred to Arthur half way through his speech that it could be determined as sappy and…Girlish, but at this moment he forced himself not to care.

He forced himself to ask the question which niggled at the back to his mind whenever he allowed himself a spare moment. It had been eating at him since he was a Prince.

What was Merlin? More than a servant, certainly. Not a friend, exactly… More like a brother, an obnoxious little brother who was always cracking jokes or making fun of him, but even that wasn't right because at times Arthur felt so young compared to Merlin, especially when the idiot got into one of his wise moods and started spouting off philosophical aphorisms at Arthur or advising him. In those moments the King felt like a toddler holding unto his nannie's hand, twining their fingers together because he knew that otherwise he would go through life aimless and without direction.

He may have been two years Merlin's senior, but those two years felt like two seconds at times. Times such as these, when Merlin's sapphire eyes were shadowed by idyllic candlelight, sometimes making his eyes flash a golden orange, like the fallen autumn leaves on cobblestone. Arthur was struck at the rightness of orange in Merlin's eyes as if that were the color which best suited the man. Orange, gold, warmth…

Merlin's face was expressionless as he searched Arthur, obviously not fooled by the façade of casualness. "I don't know, sire… Would you? You've never shown so much of an interest in me before," Merlin asked softly. Arthur flinched, surprised. He automatically opened his mouth to argue that he had so asked Merlin questions like these…

When he realized that no, he really hadn't. He rarely asked Merlin about himself or his life or his family. In Arthur's defense, being a King-or even prince- was a full time job. He did not have time to randomly ask his servant personal questions, and what was more Merlin was often enough busy himself. There wasn't time… Yet he always manages to ask you about your day or about your life. Merlin somehow manages to know everything about you, Arthur's subconscious (he hated that thing) informed him.

Arthur sighed and gazed into Merlin's shadowed eyes, eyes that watched him with a spirit that was as old as time itself. Eyes that held some measure of pain and sorrow, despair and rage, eyes that ha d watched the worlds seasons turn and probably seen more about those times that the King who was kept aloft by his people's love and his Knights dedication. Arthur read the message in those old eyes as if the words had been whispered into his soul.

Do you care about me? Is there anyone in this world who cares for me?

And he did. Arthur really did. He hated himself for not noticing the insecurity so easily seen now before. He despised himself for not thinking to tell Merlin in some larger way that he cared more than King should, more than any man had a right to feel actually. Brother, friend, advisor… All of these titles Merlin had earned, and many more.

"You've never been put into danger so blatantly before either, Merlin, never killed a man in my name before, never saved Camelot from the threat of war by its on king before," he replied, softly. Merlin cocked a brow that looked scarily like Gaius's, and Arthur could have sworn he saw a small smirk grow on the other's lips when he said that.

Arthur had to smile. He lowered his voice so that only they can hear, letting his mind empty of every duty he had to fulfill except this one.

"I suppose I've never asked because… I've never noticed that I wasn't asking… But when they carried you to me limp, not knowing if you would wake up… And I had to leave you," he fought the lump in his throat.

"And then you showed up miraculously and saved us all, shedding blood in the process," Merlin closed his eyes slowly in obvious regret. Arthur reached out and placed a hand on Merlin's shoulder mostly to remind himself that yes, his friend was there. Merlin was there. He was alive. Everything was okay.

I haven't lost you yet, the last of my kin.

"And topped it off by being a right cabbage headed idiot again and convincing me to forgive the man who murdered my father, well…" he gulped and smiled tremulously. "You had to know you'd get some attention for that, Merlin," he told him.

Merlin shook his head, seriously. "I did not do it for any credit or attention, Arthur," he said sincerely. Arthur was finding it harder and harder to fight the lump in his throat now.

"I know," he whispered, trying to disguise the hoarseness of his voice for bleariness. "I know, and that is why I didn't make a big fuss about it, that and I had to spare my pride," Merlin rolled his eyes. "But you deserve something from me, Merlin," a castle, a Knighthood, the world, anything. Anything he could find, even the stars if Merlin asked it.

However, once more the idiot shook his head stubbornly, some of the old light returning to his wizened eyes. "I have only ever worked for your safety and success, Arthur. I want for nothing more," Merlin explained, as if this should have been everyone's goal in life.

This time Arthur clamped his teeth together to stop his bottom lip from quivering Blasted, bloody, stupid man… No one should have such an influence over the King, for goodness sakes! He squeezed Merlin's shoulder, hard, remembering the knots he had just loosened and the exhaustion he saw in Merlin's eyes. The sleeplessness and guilt.

"Merlin, if the price of my success and safety is too high…" He began, aware that there was a pleading note to his voice, a covert supplication to please don't die for my sake, Merlin.

Merlin interrupted him. "Then I will still do it," he smiled lightly. "And I will do it gladly, even if it should cost me my life, because you are my king… And my friend. I told you once that I would be happy to be your servant until the day I die, Arthur," a bit of humor shone through the bleak subject. "Did you think I was lying?" He teased.

It took Arthur a moment to answer (And no, he was not two seconds away from crying and trying desperately to keep his composure). "I don't want to be the reason for your death, Merlin," he protested feebly. I would fall into such a deep hole of despair that not even Guinevere would be able to pull me out… I would never breathe again. Merlin shrugged.

"It is only fair," he argued. "Since… Well…" Merlin suddenly blushed and coughed lightly, but he met Arthur's eyes straight on. "You are the reason for my living, milord," and he serious. This bumbling, clumsy, stupid fool who couldn't stand up without tipping over or clean a piece of armor to save his life or even hold a sword correctly was perfectly willing to…

They both looked away at the same time. Merlin blushing with embarrassment and Arthur's eyes burning from-they were not tears, but…Yes, that's what they were.

What did I do to deserve such loyalty? He asked the heavens. What act have I committed to warrant such a person? It halfway a curse to have someone so blindingly dedicated… If something were to happen to him… how will I even pay the ass back? He wondered, partly in despair and partly with elation and affection.

How could he ever pay Merlin back?

"I don't know, sire… Would you? You've never shown so much of an interest in me before," Well, maybe he had never shown an interest in Merlin before but after five years that was no longer to be the truth.

Arthur stood before he knew what he was doing, already hopping from the bed and heading towards his drawers. Merlin quickly scrambled from the bed himself, swiping at his eyes as he struggled not to let Arthur see him. Arthur saw him anyway but he would not tell the man that. Let Merlin keep his pride, since he so steadfastly protects Arthurs too.

"Don't you dare leave," Arthur warned over his shoulder when he saw Merlin grab his scarf, preparing to exit. The servant looked surprised.

"Arthur…" he began again, with some amount of exasperation. Arthur gave him the evil eye to shut him up as his hands instinctively inserted the key on a string round his neck into the tiny lock on the fourth drawer by his bed, and turned. It came open with a click. Arthur rummaged through important papers. Dates, treaties, military tactics… Camelot's most prized secrets that he would rather have died than disclose.

Only Merlin had ever seen them and remained alive. Arthur spared a second to wonder if that, too, would one day get his friend into trouble. He discarded the thought as quickly as it came though. What was done was done.

Arthur scavenged about with his fingers as Merlin grumbled something about the late hour behind him. Where is it? I know it's in here somewhere… Aha! Arthur thought triumphantly as his fingers gently prodded at the round symbol he was looking for. With infinite care, Arthur took out the small pendant and rolled it between his fingers.

There was a coating of dust on the silver coin, no larger than a boot buckle. On one side was the Pendragon Crest, painted in red. Tre dragon's head reared up, spouting fire into the depths of the coin's silver surface. For a non-magical kingdom, Arthur had always found it ironic that their crest was that of one of the most powerful creatures of the Old Ways.

But he sure wasn't going to change it. He turned it to the other side, where the Pendragon Royal Crest, the thing that symbolized his nation, his people, his armies and might turned into the thing that signified him.

The sigil of his mother's family house and his father's blended together. A pearl dove and diamond owl with talons intertwined, wings spread behind them in an eagled posture of shielding one another. Wisdom and peace working hand in hand to soar higher. The coin was hanging on a small thread of golden twine. Arthur brushed the dust off it, staring at the owl and dove for a long span of minutes.

He knew what it meant I he gave this to Merlin. The servant wouldn't be able to grasp it until Arthur told him, but… This was ludicrous! ludicrous, inappropriate, and downright nonsensical that he should give this token to a complete and utter fool.

My father would turn over in his grave if he knew my thoughts now, Arthur cringed back, almost putting the coin away, but an exaggerated yawn from Merlin snapped him back into reality.

His father was dead. He had left him, as everyone let him, and this was Arthur's kingdom now. The kingdom that Merlin had taught him how to lead while his father had only ever tried to tell him how to rule. As much as I want to make you proud, father…Camelot would be nothing if not for the courage and loyalty of this friend.

"Here," Arthur turned around, meeting Merlin's exasperated mien solemnly. Upon noticing Arthur's expression, Merlin's face softened, and his eyes glanced down at the token Arthur held so gently. He straightened.

"What is it?" He asked curiously as Arthur motioned for him to hold his hands out. Merlin did so, his eyes never leaving the coin. Arthur very carefully lowered it down by the chain into Merlin's overly large and clumsy hands. A shiver went up his spine as he did so. This felt right. This was right.

"What does it look like?" he inquired dryly. Merlin, for once, did not offer any snarky retort. He turned the coin over in his fingers, examining it with a keen eye, careful as Arthur had been.

"It has your sigil," Merlin awed quietly, gently stroking the red dragon and its golden fire. Arthur watched him closely, his heart almost hammering in his chest. If only Merlin knew what this meant so he did not have to tell him. He watched as his friend's eyes flashed with fond affection, and Merlin muttered something like a prayer beneath his breath. He looked up, calmly. "What's this one?" He wondered, tapping the dove and owl.

"My family's sigil," he explained merely. Merlin's brows scrunched in confusion.

"But…This one… The dragon…." He stuttered. Arthur shook his head, folding his trembling hands behind his back.

"The dragon is the Royal crest of Camelot. It is in essentiality the banner for my kingdom. It does signify the Noble title Pendragon, but not the family. It's the kingdom's banner. Not mine," he pointed at the pearl dove and diamond owl. "That one is mine," he whispered.

"The dove is the sigil of my mother's family, and the owl is the sigil for my fathers. Together, they make my own. This coin was made at my birth. It's deeper than the banner of Camelot, and every Noble family has one secretly kept. No one but family has ever seen this," Merlin's astonished-and alarmed-eyes met his own.

Arthur lowered his voice further to stop its trembling His father would kill him if he could see this, but Arthur did not care. He would never forgive himself if he did not do this. Besides, it was only the truth. "Anyone who carries this is identified in my family as blood kin. A Noble, A Royal, my brother," gently, Arthur reached out and closed Merlin's fingers around the coin. He stared him in the eye.

"It is yours now," he whispered.

Merlin acted accordingly. His eyes grew wide and moist in the candle light, and immediately he tried to shove the coin back at Arthur. "No, Arthur!" he cried, voice shaking. "I can't accept this. If anyone you should give it to Gwen, one of the Knights…." He began urgently, but Arthur stepped back, not accepting the coin. It was where it belonged.

"Didn't you just hear me idiot? I said anyone who bears this will be my brother in all but blood. I don't know of a time in two hundred years when one of my family gave this to another, my father didn't even give Morgana one," the thought of his sister brought him pain, but Merlin's strong hand on his shoulder steadied him. "Rarely is this ever done, but rarely is there a person worthy of it," he nodded. "I deem you worthy," he told him.

Merlin stared into his eyes for a long moment, flabbergasted, before looking down at the coin in his hands. "But I'm just a servant," he whispered, eyes downcast. Arthur snorted.

"And a damn awful one at that," he agreed. "Nevertheless, appearances can be deceiving. You have a good heart, Merlin, and never have I been given reason not to trust you. You're an extremely strange fellow, but I've grown to quite like you," he replied with confidence.

Merlin seemed helpless. "What about the rest of the kingdom? The other royals? You know they'd never accept this," he protested weakly. Arthur wanted to tell him that he did not give a rat's ass about what the rest of his kingdom or any other kingdom had to say, but he knew that would only distress the boy more.

"Which is why this will remain secret," he told him. "The chosen kin of any Royal line is usually kept clandestine anyway. This is to be used in case of emergencies. Any King will know that you are my kin should you get into trouble," his eyes blazed. "And harming you would constitute an act of war," he said. Merlin paled.

"Arthur, I'm grateful and honored-you don't know how much-that you would do this for me, but I can't…" Arthur interrupted by clapping Merlin on the shoulder. This was getting too mushy for him. He wasn't a girl, even if Merlin was.

"You can and you will. You don't have a choice in it, Merlin. I'm the King, you're the servant. Shut up and take the coin," he ordered. His eyes traveled down Merlin's scruffy servant's garb and expressive face to the mess of black hair upon his head before thinking of his royal finery and disinterested face. He smiled. "It's fitting in a way," he thought aloud. "Since we're essentially two halves of the same whole," that phrase, for whatever reason, stumped Merlin in his next argument.

His chin dropped. Arthur wondered what he had said.

After a moment of staring deep into Arthur's eyes, evidently looking for something, Merlin broke out it the widest grin Arthur had ever seen. He did not have a chance to ask after what the idiot was so happy about before Merlin let out a small, shaky laugh and nodded. Merlin ran a hand over his face, grinning.

"All right," the servant mumbled. "All right," and with that, he looked at the coin in his hands and did what Arthur had been waiting for all long. With pride, Merlin took the string and slid it over his head. The small coin dropped down ad sparkled o his chest for a moment before Merlin grabbed it and slipped it beneath his shirt. He adjusted his scarf to cover the golden band that signified him as the kin of Pendragon.

Arthur felt an exhale of relief leave him when Merlin put the coin on. Unknown to his friend, should anything ever happen to Arthur and Gwen, that coin would guarantee that the crown would fall to Merlin's hands, Camelot would be his. I'll tell him later, after all if he told him now then the idiot might try giving Arthur the coin back, and that would not do at all. Arthur was pleased enough just seeing how proud Merlin was.

He hummed in approval. Merlin looked up with eyes that had once shone with insecurity and exhaustion now aglow with happiness and pride. That in itself gave Arthur more pleasure than the coin. The happiness in Merlin's eyes was contagious, spreading to him until he could only chuckle softly. "Thank you, Arthur," Merlin whispered, clutching his coin through his shirt.

"I don't deserve this now, but I promise you one day I'll show you I do," he swore. Arthur shook his head.

"I wouldn't have given it to you if you hadn't already, Merlin," he told him seriously. "After all, Camelot would be nothing with the courage and loyalty of you….My brother," Merlin bit his bottom lip, almost bouncing with pride. Arthur laughed observing him. He knew what Merlin wanted to do. He spread his arms reluctantly.

"It's a one time only thing, Merlin, so… Oof!" he gasped as Merlin rammed into him in a tight hug, swathing his arms around Arthur's neck and hugging him so tightly that Arthur lost the ability to breathe momentarily. He felt wetness soaking into the back of his shirt, and tiny sounds of happiness but he pretended they weren't there. He just encircled one hand around Merlin's shoulders, clutching the fabric of his servant's stupid shirt and gripped the back of his head with the other hand.

He hugged his brother back with just as much tightness. No words passed between them out loud, but Arthur knew all that Merlin wanted to say in the way he held unto him as if Arthur were the reason the sun came up and was the essence of all the goodness in his world.

And Arthur hugged Merlin as if he were the reason he breathed and the angel on his right shoulder who lead him on. At length, when the candle wick had almost burned itself into darkness and Arthur's shirt was sticking to his shoulder with wetness, they separated. Both turned away to swipe at the moistness in their eyes. "Um…Its, a, getting late," Merlin observed croakily. Arthur nodded.

"Get to bed, idiot," he agreed, slapping Merlin upside the head. Merlin shoved his shoulder playfully.

"Likewise, prat," he laughed, already ducking his way from Arthur's head lock. Laughing, Merlin hurried towards the door fairly skipping in his excitement. Arthur shook his head at him, unable to banish the smile of amusement from his face.

Damn that man. "Oh, and Merlin?" he called just as Merlin had opened the door and prepared to step through it. His manservant turned around, eyes softening as if he already knew what Arthur was about to say. Arthur nodded to himself. He probably did. They were two halves of one whole after all.

"Goodnight, brother," Merlin nodded back.

"Sleep well, my kin."

And slowly, softly, Merlin closed the door.