Can you tell that I've caught the one shot bug? Sorry about that. This is based sometime after S3, and Merlin is trying to get over it all, but it fits in anywhere in the series really. Just an idea that popped into my head. It probably doesn't fit the episode entirely, but oh well. This is only a bit of fun really, it's not intended to be a work of art, so I wouldn't expect anything wonderful. That said, I hope you like it.

..

Arthur wasn't stupid, despite what his manservant might think. He knew that Merlin was going through something rough, but he had yet to work out what. It wasn't anything that you could see, there was no physical change in the dark haired boy, but at the same time, it was written in every line of his face. The missing shine from his eyes. The mouth that turned down at the corners, instead of quirking upwards into a childish grin.

Every morning when Merlin woke him, the boy forced out a greeting, something mundane, but there was no heart in his words. In the beginning, he had responded to Arthur's friendly jibes in much the same way as he always did, but there was little feeling in his retorts. As time passed, he stopped replying at all.

The boy's silence was almost painful. The prince had observed in the past that Merlin's 'surly retorts' were his only redeemable feature, and days of mumbling responses were only supporting Arthur's thought.

It was that idea that was running through his head when the servant in question pulled open the heavy red curtains, allowing the gray light of dawn to enter the room.

"Oh, you're awake," Merlin said in surprise, on turning around to find his prince sat up in bed, his face lined in worry.

"Well observed Merlin." The warlock simply ducked his head. In his mind, Arthur saw how the conversation would have played out in normal circumstances:

"I have been known to pay attention, clotpole."

"Yes, it's a shame that you can't do it more often, idiot."

"Prat."

"Merlin!"

And Merlin would have innocently looked up, with a grin playing on his face and said: "Yes, Sire?"

But this new, strange Merlin said none of that. He simply moved around the room, collecting the clothes that had become scattered across the floor and bundling them together. The prince's breakfast was sitting on the table, and Arthur moved towards it eagerly.

The plate was piled high with meats and cheeses, arranged neatly. There appeared to be nothing missing, which was a slight surprise. Whilst the prince never called Merlin on it, he had a sneaking suspicion that the boy occasionally stole food from the platter before delivering it. It had never really bothered Arthur because he had a deep-seated belief that Merlin would never steal out of greed or spite. If he took food, it was because he was genuinely hungry. It wasn't as though the prince would starve over a missing drumstick.

But today, the food was untouched. The prince chewed on a piece of cheese thoughtfully as he mulled the idea over in his head, watching his servant closely. The boy carefully avoided his gaze.

"Will there be anything else, Sire?"

For several moments, the prince just looked at him, trying to work out when Merlin had begun calling him 'Sire' and not just 'Arthur.' It was unexpectedly irritating.

"Sire?" He asked again when he received no response. He still kept his eyes firmly glued to the floor.

"That will be all for now. I'll need you on the training field later on." And without another word, the younger man spun on his heel and left the prince alone with his thoughts.

..

"Come on Merlin! You are meant to be a warrior fighting for his life!" The prince ground out in frustration. His manservant remained silent, just glared at the sword that his master had forced into his hand. "At least try." Arthur was almost pleading. The warlock nodded sharply, and altered his grip on the hilt. The blade felt unsteady in his hands, the weight distribution too far from his core for him.

The prince attacked once more, raining blows down on the poor boy, who had to use all his concentration to parry each blow. Normally, the warlock was sure that Arthur would never truly hurt him, but today he seemed to be blinded by anger and to be honest, it was frightening.

When it happened, it was so quick that Arthur would spend the next few hours trying to work out what had actually occurred. He was aware that he made a mistake, feinting one way then attacking from another, something that he only ever did when fighting another knight or an actual enemy. Merlin was nowhere near well trained enough to be able to defend himself from such an attack, and Arthur was moving too quickly to stop.

When the sword sliced through his chest, the warlock cried out, instinctively dropping the sword to clutch at the wound. It wasn't deep, mainly thanks to the warlock managing to dodge backwards just in time, but the wound was long.

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted in shock, filling with dread and guilt as though a dam had burst in his mind. He sheathed his own sword, before reaching out to steady his manservant as he swayed alarmingly. "We need to get you to Gaius, quickly."

The raven haired boy didn't respond, his already pale face turning the colour of spoilt milk. His lips were pressed into a thin line, eyes wide with disbelief. He allowed Arthur to pull him away from the training field, and down corridors that he recognised in the back of his mind. Most of his concentration was centred on remaining upright.

"Gaius!" The Prince yelled as soon as he entered the physician's chambers. Thankfully the old man was there, having just returned from his rounds. At the sound of his name he looked up, taking in Merlin's form, supported by Arthur, and then the blood that was rapidly staining the blue cloth of his ward's shirt.

"What happened?" He cried in surprise, immediately clearing the bench he was working on so that Arthur could settle Merlin there. His ward made no attempt to greet or even acknowledge the physician, and instead he just stared into space blankly.

"I-" The prince started then hesitated. What had happened?

'I did this. I've hurt him.' The guilt strengthened. Did he want Gaius to know the truth right now? To see the man glare at him in fury?

"A training accident," he stammered out after a moment's hesitation. The old physician's eyes glimmered with intuition as his mind constructed a scenario, even while his hands moved to clean the wound that was still weeping blood.

The pain was finally reaching Merlin through the dense fog in his mind, and he didn't like it. He tried to hide in the numbness that had consumed him, but it was thinning too rapidly. Gaius's ministrations weren't helping.

"Merlin? Can you hear me, my boy?" The physician's voice was soft but firm, and his ward blinked blearily at him before nodding. "I need to get your shirt of so I can apply bandages. Can you help me?" Another nod. Arthur moved forwards to help, and together him and Gaius were able to pull away the fabric. The warlock groaned.

Within the next ten minutes, the wound was wrapped in bandages, and the warlock had been put to bed. Without any explanation, Arthur had left as soon as the boy was settled in his room. Merlin had wondered about that until the sleeping draught, supplied by Gaius, had taken hold and he slipped into blissful oblivion.

..

"Merlin, we need to talk."

The warlock was back at work, having been allowed two days to rest. Merlin suspected that the reason that Arthur was content to let him recover was due to guilt. He knew the prince well enough by now to know when something was weighing on his mind, and he had also noticed that his eyes seemed to cloud with emotions whenever he looked at his servant.

Not that Merlin thought the prince shouldn't feel guilty. He had needlessly sliced open his servant's chest.

"Sire?" He responded politely, his eyes settling on the floor; the picture of obedience.

"No. None of that 'Sire' rubbish. I want to talk to you as-" He hesitated. 'Here goes nothing.' "-yourfriend," he blurted out. Merlin's brow creased for half a second, his eyes darting from the floor to the prince's face. Then, slowly, he nodded. "Sit down." Merlin did as he was bid, and dropped into the chair opposite. "How are you feeling?"

"Er- alright?" Merlin wasn't quite sure how to respond. In over three years the prince had only inquired about his health once or twice, and when he had it had only been after he had been injured. 'I suppose this is the same situation,' he thoughts sardonically, thinking of the bandages still wrapped around him.

"No lasting damage?"

"Arthur, I'm fine." This time there was some conviction in his words, and relief flooded the prince.

"I need to... to apologize. I never meant to hurt you." It had taken forty eight hours for Arthur to build up the courage to say that. Every time he had thought about it his pride had reared its head and gotten in the way. But he'd had enough of feeling guilty every time he saw his servant's face crease in pain as he moved, and so he'd decided to just get it over with.

Merlin said nothing. He had, of course, forgiven Arthur completely, as soon as he had become aware enough to work out what had happened. That didn't mean however that he wasn't currently enjoying the prince's insecurity.

"I- I'm sorry." As soon as the words were out, a smile brighter than the sun exploded on Merlin's face. Arthur just blinked at him in shock. The smile completely transformed his manservant's face. The previous sadness that had haunted the warlock's every step since the reclaiming of Camelot was banished under the force of such joy.

"I forgive you," was all the boy had to say before his master was smiling back, a laugh finding its way into the room. Within moments both of them had descended into fits of giggles, even though there was nothing to laugh about. It just felt right.

It took them over ten minutes to regain some form of decorum. Once they had both fallen into a companionable silence, the prince risked a glance at Merlin's face. It was still glowing with a deep contentment, and though Arthur was loath to disrupt that, he had to ask.

"Are you going to tell me what's been bothering you now then?" He said bluntly. There seemed little point in dancing around obvious truths. The question immediately sobered the warlock. For a moment he said nothing, just stared into the distance, as though the weight of the world rested on his slender shoulders. The prince waited with as much patience as he could muster.

"It's a long story," he said eventually. Arthur didn't not respond, just stared at Merlin until he relented. "About a year ago, I met someone. I didn't know her for very long, but we grew... close." The prince's mind reeled at this. 'Merlin and a girl? Why didn't he tell me?'

"She had to leave Camelot. There were... complications that meant she couldn't stay." 'Complications like her death,' Merlin thought morbidly, then banished the idea from his mind as the old pain stirred deep within his soul. Arthur just looked nonplussed. "I'd gotten over it. But then..." He hesitated, then decided to force it out. "I saw her. Before we retook the city. But she still cannot return here, and I had to say goodbye again." Merlin's face was drawn into careful blankness, and several things snapped together in Arthur's mind.

"You miss her." It wasn't a question, but the warlock nodded anyway. "Then she must return. What keeps her away? Whatever it is, I'm sure that I can help you." And for several minutes, Merlin was struck with the longing that Arthur's misplaced belief, of how money and power could fix any problem, was true. But it wasn't and they couldn't. There are some barriers that even a prince cannot cross. Sadly, he shook his head.

"You can't fix everything, Arthur."

"At least let me try." Merlin was impressed with the sincerity in the prince's voice. He was truly willing to do whatever he had to to help his servant. Suddenly the warlock was filled with the overwhelming certainty that the climax of his destiny was near at hand, and the thought filled him with such joy that he almost started laughing again. Arthur watched the play of emotions on his face with growing alarm.

"Trust me, you can't help. I'm sorry. And thank you. It... It means a lot," he muttered, feeling awkward, as they always did when the conversation became emotional. Arthur stared at Merlin intently, reading the truth in his eyes. He really couldn't help. Contented, he looked away.

"Alright then. Anything else you feel the need to tell me? Any more little secrets?" At that, Merlin's eyes went wide for a second, flashing to his face and away. 'So there are,' the prince thought.

"None at all," came the verbal response, once Merlin was sure that his voice wouldn't shake and give him away, but the damage was already done. Instead of pressing it however, Arthur simply said:

"I'm never going to understand you, am I Merlin?" The warlock blinked for a second, then shot out a smile.

"Nah, you'd get bored." And both men grinned.

..

I'm not very happy with the ending to be honest, but oh well. I should now probably devote some time to updating my stories...