For Kristina - I wrote it eventually ;) Happy Birthday x

The last thing Arthur could remember was Merlin's voice, soft with amusement as he drew the curtains tightly shut with a swish against the tiles and a light breath to the candle, descending the room into merciful darkness. His head had been pounding with a fierce headache-turned-migraine which hadn't been helped by the trek out to the centre of the forest upon Uther's orders; there had been reports of a group of druids living in a cave and the idea of magic-users on Pendragon land was so abhorrent that the king had demanded that Arthur rode out immediately with his best knights and, of course, Merlin, who hadn't been given a choice in the matter (not that it mattered – Arthur was fast learning that his manservant would follow him anywhere even if specifically instructed to stay behind). Aforementioned druids had turned out to be an elderly witch, whose wizened guise hid her true raw power which instantly flung the knights into trees, leaving them groaning in a heap of bruised bodies.

"That went well," Merlin muttered, shuffling closer to Arthur's side, hands raised slightly in a protective stance. Arthur wanted to laugh – his servant didn't even have a sword, what did he think he could possibly do to protect Arthur against a witch?

Instead, he elected for his usual response. "Shut up Merlin." He drew his sword, deliberately placing the younger man behind him. "Let me handle this."

Merlin grumbled but took a step back. To Arthur's surprise the witch's gaze lighted not upon his sword, but over his shoulder to where Merlin was, eyes widening in what appeared to be fear. He would have questioned it further – what could possibly cause someone to fear helpless gangly Merlin – but a ball radiating green light slammed into his chest, sending him crashing into Merlin and knocking him into the bleak dark of unconsciousness immediately.

When he awoke, it was to Merlin, anxiously hovering over him. Arthur grimaced up at him, wincing as a twinge of pain streaked across his temples. Merlin's concerned expression shifted to a wide grin, before hands were on his shoulders, helping Arthur to sit up.

"You alright?"

"Never better." Arthur glanced about the clearing. The knights were beginning to come to, groggily clutching at their heads and staggering to their feet. Sir Leon in particular was quick to react, withdrawing his sword from its scabbard and checking for his prince. "At ease," Arthur called across, noting the tension leak from his knight's posture at the sound of his voice. Clambering to his feet (and finding he had to rely on Merlin's supporting arm more than he'd ever admit), Arthur snuck a look over his manservant, scanning his lanky form for any hidden injuries. While Merlin was favouring his right leg over his left, nothing seemed seriously wrong, and Arthur felt himself relax.

"Wait," he realised aloud. "What happened to the witch?"

Merlin shifted from one foot to the other, glancing down at the ground and then into the distance, tapping his fingers against his trousers nervously. "Uh, no idea. I got knocked out too. She must have run off somewhere."

Arthur made a grunt of annoyance under his breath at yet more of his knights and his precious time being wasted but accepted that there was no hope at tracking her when the weather was beginning to turn. His pounding headache increased in intensity, pain throbbing about his skull and he traipsed back to Camelot robotically, unaware of his surroundings until he was sat on his bed. Merlin crouched in front him, eyes wide with worry and cleaning the blood from Arthur's temple with a damp cloth, his touch gentle and caring.

"Lean back," the servant instructed, patting the pillows behind the prince. Arthur flopped into them, burrowing into the cool fabric with a quiet moan of relief. Merlin was speaking, but he couldn't understand the words, sinking into sleep without protest.

So, given this, it was a complete surprise when Arthur woke to the sight of a suspiciously stained white ceiling rather than royal red fabric draped over bedposts, and a scratchy sheet tangled about his ankles in place of his usual duvet. He stared up at the white-washed ceiling above his head, picking out different shapes from the stains (look – that one's a horse!) before he recognised that something else was wrong; where his hands rested against his stomach, he was very aware that he was now significantly skinnier than when he'd fallen asleep.

Arthur scrambled upright in the bed, horror mixed with pure terror flooding down his spine as his breathing picked up. In trying to sit up he smashed his head against the wall, unused to the slight height difference, lifting one hand to the point of impact with a pitiful whine. As if his situation could not get any more confusing as it was, the door opened with a creak to reveal Gaius.

"Merlin, hurry up."

Arthur gaped at him. "Merlin?"

"Yes boy," Gaius had no time for any antics it seemed. "You know how Arthur gets if his breakfast is late-" He was cut off by a loud crash from his main chambers, accompanied by a frantic shriek and then Arthur was looking at himself, or rather, his own body standing, by itself, in the doorway to the room.

"Oh god," he whispered to himself. "I'm dreaming. This can't be real." Then: "Merlin, what did you do?"

"Why do you assume this is my fault? You're the one who challenged a witch!"

Gaius was quick to the uptake, uttering a single shocked exclamation before tugging Arthur's body into the room and slamming the door shut.

Arthur eyed his body suspiciously. "Merlin?"

"Who else, clotpole?" Merlin blinked, still unused to the sound of his words in Arthur's voice. Honestly, what was his life? "Gaius, what happened?"

"I'm…not sure."

"Great, thank you so much for that," Arthur full-on growled, earning himself a stern look from the elderly physician. Gaius was one of the few people in the world who could still make him feel like a small boy caught sneaking cookies out of the kitchen again. He ducked his head, feeling a warm hand pat his skinny shoulder. "Sorry."

"Hold on, did you just apologise?" Merlin was finding the entire thing far too amusing for his own good and Arthur would have thrown one of the many discarded objects about the room at him had he not risked damaging his own face that Merlin just so happened to be wearing. "I'm feeling faint, Arthur apologised, the shock is too much…"

Arthur figured that he could live with a bruise on his face when he returned to his own body and tossed the nearest shoe in his manservant's direction. Without thinking, Merlin lifted a hand and caught it on reflex, mouth gaping as he realised what he had just done. It was hard to tell who was more surprised out of the three of them.

"What was that?"

Merlin grew pale, and grabbed at Gaius' sleeve, seizing a handful of the fabric and tugging his mentor towards the door. "Gaius, can I speak with you for a moment?"

"Arthur, stay." The elderly man ordered, and Arthur abruptly stopped mid-way through opening his mouth to insult his servant again. He crossed his legs up onto the bed, frowning. Wow, Merlin's body was flexible.

Outside the closed door, Merlin slid down the wooden frame to land with a thump on the top step, staring pitifully up at Gaius. "I don't know what happened, I just woke up like this. The witch yesterday threw this glowing orb at us, but I didn't feel any different and I thought my magic counteracted anything she'd done when I defeated her." He chewed on his lower lip anxiously. "At least that's what it felt like." He dropped his head into his hands. "Gaius, what if this is my fault? Maybe I changed her spell by accident or…"

"Listen to yourself," Gaius chided him gently. "You just admitted yourself that if you have then it was simply an accident." He patted the boy's knee. "We'll figure this out Merlin, don't you worry."

"What do we do in the meantime?" Merlin shot a suspicious look back at the door as there came a muffled thump followed shortly by a curse. "Arthur can't very well go around behaving like a prince in my body."

"Of course not," Gaius answered him promptly. "You'll have to carry out his duties, and he'll continue yours."

Merlin stared at him in disbelief. "That would never work."

"I don't see why not."

"Because Arthur has never done a hard day's work in his life!" Merlin floundered for words, gesturing wildly with his hands. "He wouldn't last a day." He stopped, a thought suddenly occurring to him with a rush of horror that felt as though he'd been plunged into a frozen lake. "You saw me catch that boot he threw at me, right? If I have his reflexes, does he have my magic?"

Gaius went very quiet, his face deliberately turned away to avoid Merlin catching sight of his expression. "Perhaps," he murmured quietly, placing a hand on his charge's shoulder. "But he doesn't know how to use it."

"I use it instinctively! I used to make my toys float as a child, who knows what Arthur could end up doing!"

"Merlin." Gaius' voice was kind but firm, shutting down his frantic train of thoughts as quickly as they had started spiralling. "Breathe." Merlin heeded the advice and took a deep breath, the burn in his chest dissipating with the fresh supply of oxygen. While he had experienced anxiety over events before (normally the idea of using magic to save Arthur's life amongst a court full of nobles), he had never felt such debilitating panic so that it hurt to breathe and left tiny tremors shivering through his fingers. He dug his nails into his palms in an attempt to ground himself. Apparently, Arthur kept as many secrets as he did himself.

As Merlin had predicted, Arthur was not impressed by Gaius' idea.

"You want me," he repeated slowly, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. Merlin couldn't keep himself from staring; was that really what he looked like when confused? "To work. As a servant. I'm the Crown Prince!"

"Not right now you're not," Gaius announced cheerfully. "Now go on, you have jobs to attend to."

Merlin waited until the moment that Arthur was slipping out the door to sidle over, grabbing his elbow and steering him into a quiet corridor where they wouldn't be noticed. Arthur looked him up and down, noting the look of concern on his face and wow, this was never not going to be strange and unsettling.

"What's wrong?" He finally settled for asking.

Merlin dropped his gaze to the floor, twisting the hem of his shirt between his fingers. "I just…wanted to…"

"Wanted to what?"

"Warn you."

"Warn me of what? Really Merlin, if I can handle a dragon then I'm pretty sure I can handle a day's work in my own castle."

"You'd be surprised," Merlin retorted, but his face was still downcast. "Listen, I know you're a prince-"

"What an astute observation, I'm shocked."

"Shut up and let me speak!" Arthur shut his mouth with an audible snap, crossing his arms with a dip of his head to carry on. Despite their usual banter, Merlin had never spoken to him with such angry desperation before, and it felt wrong on so many levels. "Some people will treat you differently from how you're used to."

"Yes, I gathered that part came with being a servant as opposed to a prince."

"No, Arthur, they will treat you very differently. I know you won't want to, but I need you to promise me something."

"Merlin, what are you rambling on about?"

"No, Arthur please." Merlin stared at him, eyes wide and pleading. His fingers were trembling, and he shoved them into his pockets. "You have to promise me that no matter what happens, you won't react, because no-one will see you, they'll see me and I won't be able to protect you and when we get our bodies back they'll continue to treat me like that and it's just…I need you to…" His breaths cut short into a ragged gasp and he stumbled back, pressing his hands to the rough stone of the wall, fists white knuckled.

Arthur watched him, all too used to the feeling himself. That was another of his secrets that Merlin now knew, he thought cynically before surging into action, gripping Merlin's shoulders hard enough to hurt until the other man looked at him, eyes filled with unshed tears. "Take a breath," he instructed, waiting until Merlin copied him. "Good. Now another."

Merlin dropped his head back against the wall. "We're talking about this when we get our bodies back."

"I'd rather not." Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the sound of approaching footsteps. "What got you so worked up, anyhow?"

Merlin's eyes darkened. "Don't react, you'll only make it worse."

"Make what worse?"

"Promise me."

Arthur would have continued to protest had he not caught sight of Merlin's genuinely fearful look that he was trying so desperately to hide. It was all wrong and Arthur fought the urge to hunt down whoever had caused his friend such pain and destroy their lives until they pleaded for mercy. Instead he was forced to settle for quiet agreement. "Alright. I promise."

Merlin heaved a sigh of relief, tension visibly dropping from his shoulders. "Thank you."

"I'd better not regret this." Arthur pointed a finger dangerously close to Merlin's face until he went cross-eyed, trying not to blink. It was a strangely amusing image to see on himself, and he turned on his heels, heading in the vague direction of the kitchen before he could start laughing. Despite this, he couldn't help but remember Merlin's words preying on his mind heavier and heavier with every step he took down the stairs to the kitchens. Whatever it was that had the other man so worried, Arthur had no doubt that he would soon find out.

Arthur Pendragon crouched against the wall, a bucket sloshing water over the floor by his feet, ravenously tearing into a piece of bread. It was dry and unappetising, but he was too hungry to bring himself to care. Everything ached to the extent that he could feel muscles he hadn't even realised he had, but what concerned him was that when he bent over a sharp pain coursed up his back, seizing around his shoulders, but without a mirror he had no way of discovering the source.

"How does Merlin do this every day?" He murmured to himself, scuffing a hand through his tangled hair and tugging at the signature neckerchief that Merlin had insisted he wore. Fighting back a yawn, he finished the last mouthful of bread and brushed crumbs off his hands, preparing to return to work. Despite his personal objections, he had done his best, viewing the tasks as a challenge; he had never been one to back down, even when it was detrimental not to.

The point was that he was not expecting the steward to appear around the corner and start shouting at him at the top of his lungs. The man was around his height, but much beefier, and his thick neck and face flushed red with rage. Something dark and wild ignited in his eyes as he approached, brandishing the polished belt in his hands with an expression of sickening anticipation.

"I've had enough of you slackin' off." Hot breath flooded across his neck. "Jus' 'cause you work for 'is lordship doesn't mean ya get special treatment."

Arthur finally shook himself out of the trance he had fallen into. "What?" Not exactly eloquent, he recognised with a scarcely hidden wince, but it would do.

"Don't act stupid, bastard. Ya think you're somthin' special, but you ain't. Do you know what you're worth? Nothing. Less than something I'd give to the pigs. And sooner or later, the prince is gonna realise it too." There was a brief pause as Arthur curled his hands into fists behind his back and desperately wrestled with his instincts in order to keep his fury at bay. Now he understood what Merlin had been talking about. "Why aren't ya working, scum?"

Arthur's mouth opened before his brain could catch up. "How can I work when you're standing in my way?"

It was a massive mistake. Arthur's eyes widened and he slammed back against the wall as the other man advanced, practically spitting with fury, eyes bloodshot and wild. The belt snapped in the air and then his entire side ignited with a fiery pain and Arthur let go…just in time for a hand to seize his bicep and tug him to safety.

"What is going on here?" Merlin's voice was tightly controlled and level with fury. He held his head high, looking every inch a prince of Camelot to the point that Arthur would have had serious questions about Merlin's childhood had he not visited Ealdor and met Hunith himself. There was a sense of raw power about his friend in that instance, so fierce and protective that for the first time Arthur couldn't help but feel awe and even apprehension, but then Merlin turned to him and his gaze was filled with such pure fondness and concern that Arthur felt the breath he'd been holding fall away within an instant.

"Are you alright?"

Arthur numbly nodded. He was still in a state of shock, but it was lifting and fast and Merlin recognised that he would have to get the prince away from the scene before he came to his senses. He shot the Steward a look of righteous fury before turning away to stalk down the corridor, tugging Arthur after him. Once they had reached the relative safety of Arthur's chambers, Merlin bolted the door and slid down to the floor, heaving a sigh of pure despair. It sounded out of place coming from Arthur's body, but given he knew it was from Merlin it seemed even worse.

"Merlin."

"Yes?"

"Explain to me right this instance what I just experienced."

There was silence. When Arthur looked across, Merlin was curled up against the door, shoulders quivering as he hid his face against his knees, blond hair flopping forwards to conceal his features. Arthur made a mental note to get a haircut as soon as he got his own body back, but right now he had more important jobs to attend to and number one on his list was to discover exactly how long and how badly Merlin had been suffering at the hands of the brutish tyrant.

"Merlin."

"Why is this so important to you?" Merlin finally burst out, eyes flooding with angry tears that threatened to spill over. "We have a slightly more pressing concern right now." He gestured between them both.

Arthur frowned. "You're being hurt, regularly from what I can gather, by someone in a position of trust. That is inexcusable." It became clear that force and blunt honesty was not the way to go, and his stomach clenched as he caught sight of a hastily concealed tear. "Merlin," he continued in a softer voice, "why won't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"That's ridiculous."

"No, you're being ridiculous. Tell me, what's one servant worth as opposed to the Crown Prince of Camelot? Nothing. It's not worth your time. I'm not worth your time. I'm here to be your manservant, as is my job."

"If that's what you think then you're an idiot." Arthur shuffled closer until their knees brushed and Merlin was forced to look up. "You're more than just my manservant and we both know it. You're my friend. If I ever hear you claim you're worthless again then you won't like the consequences."

"I didn't say I'm worthless, I just said I'm worth less."

"Yes, because that sentence made so much sense."

Merlin gave a tearful smile. "Shut up, clotpole."

"Never." Arthur nudged his shoulder. "Merlin, I'm serious. You're worth more than you realise."

"I've saved you more times than I count."

Arthur heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Of course you have, Merlin." He dropped the sarcastic tone from his voice. "Let me help."

"Five months."

"Excuse me?"

"That's how long it's being going on. It's fine, Arthur, really."

"There is no way in which this is fine."

"Just leave it!" Merlin was on his feet and out of the door within an instant. Arthur remained where he was, before recalling that he had a list of duties which he had yet to complete, and a furious Steward searching for him somewhere in the castle. He couldn't rid himself of the scalding rage, recalling every time that he reached for Merlin during their usual banter and the younger man had flinched. And to top it all off, Arthur himself had thrown things at Merlin hard enough to hurt, a certain goblet being a key example that must have left the boy with bruises. Before he realised what he was doing Arthur had slammed his hand against the wall hard enough to send a flurry of brick-dust down and redden the skin across his palms.

It occurred to him that this was what feeling powerless felt like. He never wanted to feel this way ever again. With a soul-heavy burden settling across his shoulders, Arthur headed back to his work.

If Arthur had been shocked by the abuse his servant had been suffering without his knowledge, he was by no means prepared for his next discovery. By the time he had finished his final shift in the lower quarters it was long after sundown and the skies outside were midnight black, scattered with dark clouds. He traipsed back to his room upon instinct before hesitating in the doorway, wondering what people would think if they saw him, as Merlin, creeping into the Prince's chambers late at night.

As if he had overheard Arthur's thought, the door creaked open and Merlin stuck his head around the door. "Are you going to stand around out there all night?"

Apparently they were going to ignore their earlier confrontation. Arthur shoved past him. "I need a bath."

"Well you can go get it yourself." Merlin met Arthur's affronted look with a smirk. "I can't go down there – imagine what people would say if they saw the prince of Camelot gathering bath water for his servant." Arthur gave a pitiful whine and Merlin finally took mercy on him, standing to the side to reveal a bath already waiting. "Go on then." He headed towards the door. "I'm going to speak with Gaius."

Arthur didn't even wait until the door had closed before he began stripping off the clothes. The fabric clung to his skin with perspiration and fibres caught at the fresh wound across his ribs, drawing a pained gasp from his lips. With a muffled curse, he tugged it free. While he had no shame wandering around his chambers in his own body (Merlin had witnessed him in a significant state of undress many a time; it came with the job description), Merlin had always kept his personal boundaries – Arthur could count on one hand the number of times he had seen him without even his precious neckerchief on, let alone minus a shirt. Still, he had no choice – personal boundaries were shot given their current situation, but he didn't expect to catch sight of his reflection in the mirror.

Merlin's body was smothered in scars. Arthur dropped his towel, stumbling back, the rising storm of emotions inside swirling around shock and horror. He lowered a hand to the startlingly red scar curled around his ribs, still painful to touch and relatively fresh. Further marks of suffering sliced across the pale torso, the skin raised and raw to his fingertips, some faded and smaller but others larger. Arthur was a skilled knight and having a basic knowledge of medicine came with it; he knew all too well that the injuries that inflicted many of the marks had to have been life-threatening.

"Arthur, I…what are you doing?" Merlin stumbled to a halt, the door swinging out of his hands as his gaze dropped to Arthur's hands, still hovering above the largest of the scars, directly in the centre of his chest. "Oh."

Arthur raised a horror-struck gaze to his servant, voice trembling. "What happened?" He took a step closer. "No, you don't get to run away again Merlin. What else are you hiding from me? These…these are the sort of injuries I would expect from an experienced warrior. Who even are you?"

Merlin's voice was very small. "I'm your friend."

Arthur stalked closer, planting one hand on his servant's shoulder to pin him to the spot. "Help me understand."

"You won't."

"I don't get it." Arthur spun around, pacing to the window and then back again, his voice increasing in volume until he was shouting, pure anger and hurt. "What will it take for you to trust me?"

"I…" Merlin was practically in tears. "Arthur, calm down."

"Like hell I will."

"No, Arthur, you need to calm down." Merlin's voice rose, turning his words into an order. From his side of the room, he could see what Arthur couldn't and surreptitiously stepped into place to obscure the mirror; with his rapidly spiralling emotional state Arthur was losing control, and his eyes were glowing a molten gold. Merlin took a step towards him, voice breaking on a single word that carried so much weight: "Please."

Arthur took a deep breath, chest heaving with barely concealed pain. "How?"

"Protecting you."

"You don't have to protect me!"

"No, that's what you don't see. We protect each other, that's how this works."

"But I haven't protected you, have I?" Arthur sank heavily onto the end of the bed, Merlin joining him after a moment's hesitation, noting with relief that his eyes were blue once more. "Not from this."

Merlin didn't miss a beat. "You couldn't." He reached across, snatching Arthur's hand away from where he was tracing the spiderweb of scars. "You have this sense of responsibility and you care so much about Camelot and your people, which is a good thing, I'm not saying it isn't, but you take everything that goes wrong as a personal failure. This? This was my decision. It was my choice, and if it means saving you then I'd make that same choice every single time."

"Even if it meant dying?"

"Absolutely and without hesitation."

Arthur stared him for a long moment. "You know, every time I think I'm beginning to understand you, you go and say something which completely throws me." He gave a dark chuckle. "Maybe that's what the witch wanted all along - for us to recognise each other, truly."

"Do you trust me?"

"For some unknown reason, yes."

"Then can you trust me when I say that there some things that I just can't tell you?"

Arthur was quiet. "Yes," he murmured after a pause. "But this had better not hinder your ability to muck out my stables."

Merlin started laughing at that, flopping back against the mattress with a thump. Arthur watched him, unable to shake the nagging feeling that he was on the precipice of discovering something far greater and more complex than he could ever comprehend. Merlin was a continuing mystery, a riddle in his own right and he had wormed his way into Arthur's heart without any clear reason, yet the idea of living without him appeared unthinkable. This left him with only one remaining option – to decide to trust him and live with the secrets between them. And, Arthur thought as he lay back next to his companion, trusting Merlin had never been a question, not really.

"Thank you, sire."

Arthur smiled. He didn't need to say anything; somehow, he suspected that Merlin already knew.

"I'm too tired for this."

"If I can do it, then so can you."

Arthur shot Merlin a harrowing look of displeasure. "You, Merlin, are…"

"Fantastic? Wonderful?"

"Impossible."

Merlin shrugged. "I can live with that."

Arthur gave a groan and dropped his chin back onto the wooden surface of Gaius' workbench. Through blurred vision he could glimpse the dancing flames in the fireplace, tiny sparks leaping and waltzing through the embers, layers of wood peeling back under the blanket of heat. The amber glow reflected off the rows of bottles, each filled with various remedies and colourful liquids, petals and debris strewn across the preparation board in front of them. A pile of books stood to the side, next to the carefully made bed, the well-thumbed pages worn yellow with age fluttering in the faint breeze. Merlin was speaking from his place sat on the steps that led up to his room, flicking through another ancient book much faster than Arthur would have thought possible, but he couldn't bring himself to question it.

"It wasn't that bad," Merlin observed, crossing his ankles and burrowing his nose back into the pages.

Arthur gave a wide yawn, eyes watering with the effort. "I scrubbed the kitchen floors. All the kitchens, Merlin, do you have any idea what that's like?"

Merlin raised a brow, as if to ask, really? "Yes, because I do it most days. I also have to work for you, and then carry out Gaius' requests, so be thankful you only have to carry out one of my jobs."

"Huh. I didn't know you were that busy." Arthur considered this new information. "Do you even get paid for that?"

Merlin gave a nod behind him at the closed door. "I get a bed."

"Your bed is the worst. My back's still recovering from waking up in it and that was two days ago. When's Gaius getting here?" He yawned again, burying his face in his arms to hide from the light. The soft crackling of the fire and Merlin's distant humming as he turned another page made up a lullaby of the world, and he was drifting into a doze when the door opened with a loud screech.

"Gaius?" Merlin scrambled to his feet, narrowly avoiding tripping down the stairs. "Did you find something?"

Gaius held a small vial up to the light. It appeared innocuous, with a thick purple liquid swirling about inside, but Arthur suspected it had magical origins. He was too eager to get his own body back to care, especially given there was a treaty-negotiation being held in the next week which Merlin would not be able to get through without letting it slip that something was wrong, namely that he was not the Prince of Camelot.

"This should reverse the effects of the curse," Gaius was saying as Arthur dragged his attention back to the room. "Don't think about it, just drink."

"It tastes digusting, doesn't it?"

Gaius didn't respond to Merlin's question, which was an answer in itself. He poured the vial equally into two smaller bottles which he set down on the table in front of Arthur, Merlin trotting over to join them.

"Ready?" Merlin inquired, frowning down at the contents. There appeared to be some strange substance spiralling in the depths of the liquid, and he decided that he really didn't want to know.

Arthur lifted his cup in a mock toast. "Ready to get my bed back, definitely." To the sound of Merlin's laughter, he tipped his head back and downed the contents. The liquid was deeply sour, stinging his tongue and throat and leaving him spluttering. "Nothing's happened. Did it not work?"

"Last time we slept before the spell worked," Merlin pointed out. "Maybe we should just head to bed and see how it is in the morning?"

Arthur blinked the blurriness out of his vision, frowning into the semi-darkness of his room. For the past two days he had refused to remain in Merlin's bed, but equally it wouldn't do for the palace to observe the prince staying in the physician's chambers, so they had taken to sharing Arthur's bed. Arthur tended to flop around in his sleep, flinging limbs about the bed and tangling the blankets into a snare about his waist. This worked fine when he was by himself but had resulted in Merlin angrily dragging the blanket back and shoving a stray arm away from his face in the early hours.

Not that Merlin was a perfect sleeping buddy. He tended to subconsciously move towards the other person in the bed, and cling onto them like a limpet, all gangly limbs and soft muttering that was incomprehensible through the haze of sleep.

When Arthur peered across to his left and was greeted with a shock of raven hair where Merlin had pushed his face into the pillow, gripping onto a corner of the blanket fiercely, it took him a moment to recognise what was different. He bolted upright, shaking Merlin's shoulder until the other man whined for mercy and finally rolled over to face him, realisation dawning on him within seconds.

"You're you again!"

"Thank god," Arthur drawled, unable to hide the grin twitching at the corners of his lips. "You know what this means?"

"I'm going to regret asking, but what?"

"You can go and fetch us breakfast."

Merlin quirked a brow. "Us?"

"Just go and get the food, would you?"

Three days later the kitchen was alive with gossip as Merlin descended the steps, almost colliding with Gwen as he did so. She seized his sleeve, eyes alight with cheer as she practically danced around him.

"Woah," he laughed, grabbing her arm and tugging her to his side to prevent her crashing into one of the bustling servants carrying platters up to Uther's quarters. "What's happened?"

"Didn't you hear?" Gwen clasped his hand, her smile lighting up her face. "The Steward's been dismissed." She lowered her voice, looking around furtively. "Apparently Arthur called him in for a private meeting, and Tom mentioned overhearing shouting on his way to the stables. Arthur was really angry – angrier than I've ever seen him – and the Steward's already left. He's no longer allowed to be employed anywhere in Camelot, even the tavern." She shot Merlin a sly look. "I don't suppose you would have anything to do with that?"

"Who, me? Never."

Gwen laughed, shaking her head, wisps of hair dancing about her face. "Of course not, Merlin, of course not."

Merlin remained frozen as she left for her own duties elsewhere in the castle, caught up in his own thoughts, placing a hand to his ribs on reflex as the image of the Steward appeared in his head.

"Oi, boy, less dawdling more working!"

He waved back at the elderly maid. "On it!"

Arthur was lounging in a chair, legs sprawled across the desk in front of him, chewing leisurely on an apple when Merlin burst through the doors. Merlin doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

"You…the Steward…gone…"

"Ah," Arthur commented, lifting his feet down from the table. "I was wondering when you would hear about that." He took another bite of the apple. "Don't look so surprised Merlin, I couldn't very well have my manservant walking around looking like a punching bag. It reflects badly on me."

Merlin stared at him incredulously, before he grinned. "You were worried about me." Arthur didn't reply. "You do care."

"Obviously, idiot." Arthur slid back his chair and headed for the door. "Come along Merlin, there's hunting to be done."

And if after that Arthur kept a closer eye on his manservant and laid back on his chores when Merlin was evidently tired and run ragged, and Merlin was quicker to notice if Arthur was out of his depth and beginning to panic, standing by his side with a gentle touch to the elbow (I'm here, you're not alone), then well…no-one commented on it.

Review?

Kat x.