A/N Good evening people's! Another instalment for your perusal. I hope you like Merlin suffering as much as me.

Muahahaha!

Ok so must remember the Evil laugh is better out loud. I will place the note on my 'How to be an Evil overlord' instruction pamphlet. Right under the reminder not to wear sparkly pastels in public if on a dark and dangerous rampage.

...

He's at the tavern Chapter 4.

Magic was the only reason he managed to get through the tortuous hours he spent in the stables on that horrid day.

Every time his energy waned or his stomach swelled with the force of sickness, caused by the worst head he had ever had to deal with since being poisoned by the Serkets, he sank into a corner and used his power to temporarily stave it off. Such use would come back to haunt him later, he knew, but by the time the effects caught up he hoped he would be in Gaius's hands and able to let go completely. He couldn't say for sure what the consequences would be if he was not, but needless to say he didn't think it would be pretty. Or that Arthur would be at all sympathetic.

No, safe to say Merlin did not enjoy his sojourn with the horses. And as he walked slowly, painfully back up to the castle proper, he could only think his treatment would only get all the poorer when he reported to Everard Derril. The steward and general factotum did not like him. As far as Merlin was aware, he had never liked him. Merlin had no idea why unless it was the stewards continued belief in Merlin's general uselessness. The thought stung only slightly. He'd been in Arthur's service for many years now, and if Arthur had never seen fit to 'permanently' fire him when all others had failed within their first few months, surely there must be something redeemable about his skills.

But no, that first morning after the feast Gaius had shown him the man's work chambers. The Place he would collect his wages, and supposedly gain the training he needed for the job Uther had so grandly bestowed. The moment he had stepped through the doorway he had instantly been intimidated by the older man's dismissal. The Steward's resemblance to old man Symonds from his home village had been uncanny. The sneer, the attitude of superiority and the lazy affected drawl could have been pulled straight from his childhood nightmares.

Merlin had been inspected from top to toe with eyes faded with age but no less piercing from his much shorter height. He had then sneered with the same disgust Symonds had always regarded his adventures with Will whilst growing up. It had made his then seventeen year old self feel much like a bug. And with the impression the steward's intense scrutiny would only last as long as his curiosity before the expensive looking boot heel would come down and grind him to dust on the pale stone floor.

"I'm supposed to turn you into a servant to our esteemed rulers? You won't last a week boy." Thathad stung. So much more so because he knew he had never aspired to the serving classes and couldn't think he had any expertise in it either. He was an over educated farm boy coming straight in fresh from the country and his only experiences being of surviving in a harsh, border, agriculture village and the occasional scribe work done for the travellers who passed through. "You think saving the prince's life will get you special treatment? It will not! The prince has very specific standards and I won't waste time teaching some peasant boy with no understanding or intelligence enough to learn. You're just a lucky usurper who will probably be fired before day's end. Get out of my office boy and run home to your mother this is no place for you." It had been all he could do to hold in the scathing comments he itched to launch at the pompous arse. He wasn't unintelligent and being a peasant had not held him back from being literate or from being a quick study.

He could not believe how bigoted this man was and he'd thought Arthur was bad, the consummate Pratt. But Merlin had been initially determined to make a better impression on the head of the serving staff. Had tried the same tactics he had employed in his home village of keeping his head down and educating himself, since the man clearly had no inclination to motivate himself to help. He had hoped that if he showed enough willingness, enthusiasm and resourcefulness it might soften his attitude towards him enough at least to show him the basics of what to do and what not to. Alas the steward had been determined to think the worst of him, taking every opportunity to belittle his achievements and point out every flaw. He seemed to take every instance of Merlin's inexperience as a personal affront.

Merlin had merely been left with the feeling anyone in authority was a stuck up prig and really needed to be brought down a peg or two. The mutual dislike, even dare he say it, enmity had continued for all the time he'd been here.

Only getting worse the longer Merlin lasted. And as the days had turned into weeks and the weeks to months and then to years as Arthur changed and grew and became an almost friend, the stewards expression only grew more sour. His words became fewer and those much more derogatory and cutting. Arthur's rare shows of favour just added another layer to the man's heap of perceived grievances against the warlock.

Merlin had slowly lost his terror of disappointing people, whilst his amusement at his successes being a cause for such a violent reaction within the steward, grew more intense. It was his source of private entertainment to figure out just how dour his face would look each time he collected his wages. It had been funny when he'd not had to report to him directly. Now he did and it could only be classed as a nightmare.

He could only imagine the jobs the steward would have saved up for just such an occasion. Merlin falling from grace was not a new phenomenon, yet he had never been without Arthur's favour for long. Nor had he ever annoyed Arthur enough to be assigned to Derril personally. And with Arthur in such a snit the vindictive man could do pretty much as he pleased without threat of consequences. Hell, Arthur would probably deem any and all disgusting, slightly dangerous tasks as character building and congratulate the man for finding such a suitable punishment.

He counted himself as a strong individual, he had to be to survive so long in so hostile an environment, and resourceful, he could weather this potential storm. It would just be difficult, very difficult. So it was with the greatest trepidation, concealed behind a well practiced mask of respectful subservience, he raised his fist to knock and entered the lair of the beast at his call to enter.

...

When a servant had come running into his office first thing with a folded note hastily written in his Kings hand Everard Derill, master steward and chatelaine, had thought his day would prove trying at best.

What pray tell could King Arthur want so very early? His first thought had been for their royal guests and the note had perhaps contained a complaint, or a request. Either could have proven to be a monumental headache of smoothing ruffled feathers or of organising the staff to some unexpected feat.

It had been neither, instead it had unexpectedly made the stewards day. Merlin had been caught out in some misdemeanour and been assigned to his service for the duration of the guest's stay. His wages were to be withheld until he was deemed to have sufficiently shown his remorse.

The steward's eyes had rounded with first shock and then private glee. Merlin, the man whom had seemed untouchable, for whom being fired from the Prince and then King's service seemed only a temporary setback, had finally been given his comeuppance and the steward could not be more glad.

The man was disrespectful in the extreme and clumsy with it. A naive fool with nothing to his name, save pulling a prince out of his chair in a public show of recklessness. Worse even than this bit of glory seeking, was the knowledge his nephew's honoured place was no longer assured. The livelihood Everard had been training the boy for had been stolen by a man without proficiency or proper knowledge. The servant's duties to royalty rightfully belonging to the most experienced staff and George should have been that man.

Morris had been intending to leave, set up shop with his uncle and his sweetheart, the prince having become a demanding taskmaster he could not handle. It had been the perfect opportunity to push forward not only his family but himself as well. Forewarned of the prince's anticipated need the steward had been training George in private. Attempting with great success to make him the most perfectly polished member of staff, one guaranteed to become the ideal manservant to the prince. It was the stewards' intent for him to then slowly move up the rankings until he could take over his own position allowing him to retire. In a few short years he would have been able to retire with honour and a generous stipend, enough so his carefully hoarded fortune built through years of skimming the wages of those under him for supposed punishment of mistakes could pass without anyone being the wiser.

With that one act Merlin had scuppered all his future plans as his nephew became relegated to the ranks of highly trained surplus staff reserved for noble and royal guests. An important but overlooked role, his nephew was shunted aside and made invisible by a smart mouthed idiot from a more than slightly dubious border smallholding, whose alliance with their own kingdom was shaky at best. And he was still plugging away in this stifling castle instead of enjoying his well earned riches on a peaceful country estate.

It was not to be borne. Quite apart from the humiliation of having his well trained, obedient and moreover loyal nephew cast away without so much as a by-your-leave, Merlin could very well have been a spy, the whole thing set up to bring him into the household without much protest. What better way to allay suspicion of ill intent than to save the prince's life?

No one had taken his concerns seriously, even as Merlin was accused of sorcery more times than he cared to count. Stuck his nose into everyone's business and was constantly underfoot and in the thick of things when anything went wrong, especially when it was of magical origin. How could no one see how dangerous the boy was? Every single time he had raised the matter he had been dismissed, supposedly proven wrong and given pitying looks as regards his mental faculties.

That boy was a menace, and stupid though he may be, he still managed to evade capture and justice for his association with the dark arts. His intelligence was far too lacking to be a sorcerer himself, the thought of that was just laughable. Peasants from the back of beyond just weren't capable of understanding the subtleties inherent with magic, but he knew someone or something must have that capability and was being used by the boy as a source of information he was sure of that.

Now he had a way of removing the threat altogether and of taking revenge for his own disappointments. It was years too late, and George had told him Arthur hadn't been very taken with his service despite praising his efficiency when he had taken on the role temporarily earlier this year at Everard's insistence. Those few days when Merlin had been missing and presumed dead and then been to the tavern for days after (an extremely suspicious turn of events no one else seemed to have taken note of, but he had as usual), George had told him how the monarch had made Merlin learn from him. George had been so proud his expertise had been noted so efficaciously but Everard had seethed that it had never led to anything save George then finding himself in demand for lessons on household management. Merlin had remained in service, still holding the position of honour George should have occupied and that young nephew of his, his useless kin had been content to step back again. Telling his uncle he admired the way Merlin could handle the Kings moods. His bloody nephew admired the man who would sell them all into Hades foul grasp? No he would not see it happen.

However, this now was an opening he could not pass up and George, despite his seeming lack of ambition would thank him when his promotion became assured. The boy had never known what was best for his own self.

He would need to make sure Merlin left of his own accord, he had proved time and again there was something preventing anything sticking to his reputation and little wonder if he had a source of magic protecting him, it was probably some spell. Some enchantment which meant he would have to willingly give up his place, which also meant he would have to shove a rather obvious wedge between king and servant so wide there was no chance of being able to cross back again. This called for subtlety and all his proficiency in manipulation.

It helped that there was no time limit to the withholding of wages, just that indistinct assurance of Merlin having to repent, though even here he was asked to apologise not be sent packing unceremoniously, just how strong was this magic charm of his? Then of course there was that emphasis on this being a punishment, something dire Merlin had to finally atone for and therefore nothing to say how awful the jobs should or shouldn't be.

He could have him clean the three guarderobe's ranged around the castle every day on hands and knees and have him polish every piece of metal held within the castle stores until midnight and then have him up with the dawn to split logs for a month if he so wished, the thought brought a twinkle to his eye and a chuckle to his lips It would be a simple matter if anyone cared to look into his methods later for him to tell them how vaguely worded the note was and that as far as he could tell Merlin had not shown any form of remorse, how could he when they had all seen how insolent the man was.

He was the only man who seemed to be immune to whatever influence he had over everyone. That made him happy in a way, realising he must be exceptionally strong willed and special to see through to the black heart beating within and resist the pull of his charm. It only reinforced his opinion this was his task and how great his reward should be. The King would be eternally grateful for freeing him he was sure.

He happily spent the hour until the knock came making lists of the most humiliating, time consuming and dirty jobs he could rarely find people to undertake ready for Merlin to show and find out exactly how much he hated him and his scheming ways. When it finally came he let a slow grin spread out across his face stretching the muscles in unfamiliar ways before he composed himself and sat back in his padded chair, transforming his features reluctantly back into the stern, aloof icicle the rest of the servants knew him as.

"Come in."

"Master Derill? Arthur has assigned me to you for the day." His tone was respectful as it always had been around him (and what better indication that the steward was right than this, Merlin was respectful only to him, the one man who saw him as he really was. He knew the supposed show of respect was a means of trying to appease him, try and gain his trust. But he would never be appeased, nor bribed, and he would most assuredly never trust him) but there had also always been a tiny hint of impertinence, almost undetectable, lurking under the words a subtle mockery he had never been able to call him out on, as if he were laughing at him, laughing at their inability to stop his evil. Well Everard would see how much Merlin was pleased enough to express his amusement by the end. He intended this to be the worst sort of hell and lead only to either banishment at the very least, or the pyre for his subterfuge and connection to the vilest of practices if he could in any way manoeuvre such an outcome.

"Oh not just for the day boy, you have been handed to my service for the duration of our royal guests stay. I imagine our King is not happy with your behaviour or your application toward your duties at the moment since I'm to make sure you regret whatever it is you've done wrong." He kept his tone even. Never let it be said Everard couldn't keep a lid on his suspicions or his triumph. It was enough to see Merlin's already parchment skin whiten further till he resembled the colour of whey.

"Now I have a whole host of tasks demanding attention forthwith, since we haven't had anyone willing to carry them out recently." The white had now become a sickly yellow and two spots of furious colour bloomed across his cheeks as Merlin realised just what that statement meant. The most dreadful assignments of duty were the ones least often filled and Merlin had now been landed with them all. The first list was handed over and he swore Merlin swayed slightly even as his jaw tightened in anger and frustration. Inside the steward was laughing wholeheartedly. He would see just how much his protection was worth in the face of the steward's determination and ingenuity.

This would be sweet retribution indeed.