Arthur was a very happy man. He wasn't really the whistling type, but his steps had a noticeable spring to them that was usually missing from his walk. His pacing feet echoed loudly off the marble ceiling and halls of the foreign palace. A dirty brown cloak was draped over his shoulders, but it was opened so that the brightly shining chainmail underneath was perfectly visible. He had just arrived in the kingdom's citadel, and he hadn't wanted to keep his hosts waiting, not even for the brief amount of time it would've taken to change.

The Lady Mithian was the one whom Arthur was meeting. She had sent a messenger to him three nights ago requesting his assistance in a matter of some urgency. Camelot and Nemeth were on good terms, and he counted the Princess a friend, so he had readily agreed. He had ridden out alone for a camp of slave traders set in a far corner of Mithian's kingdom, himself disguised as a merchant from Camelot's own black market. Arthur had brought the traders to justice with nothing more than his wits, his sword, and his astonishing good looks. Oh, and his cowering manservant. Still, that didn't really count.

More than enough reason to be happy, Arthur thought cheerily. It was a job well done, and it improved relations with both Camelot's ally (Nemeth) and his friend (Mithian). Moreover, his own kingdom would be a better place without Nemeth's slave traders. They had been known to take people from Camelot, and they wouldn't be missed by anyone except their actual clients. Indeed, most people who were aware of their existence would probably rejoice once they heard the news that one more threat had been abolished by their King. The slave trade took a blow today; yes, definitely a good reason to be happy.

His sword hung loosely by his side as he walked down the citadel's hallways. Not that he believed himself to need it; he trusted this kingdom and its rulers far too much for that. Still, he knew from experience that he should always be armed, even inside his own citadel, especially when he was walking alone. Assassins could appear at any time, from any place, and he couldn't always rely on guards to protect his Royal person. The ban on magic was still running strong, and his sorcerous enemies might take this as an opportunity to try and blot out his existence.

Arthur fingered his sword. "Let them try," he thought, his lip quivering into a grin. "I'm more than a match for any sorcerer, alone or not."

And alone he was. Merlin was still in the stables, ensuring that the horses were properly taken care of. He would catch up when he felt like it, and if he didn't, well, Arthur wasn't worried. His man-servant had a habit of appearing at the most random of times and in the strangest of places; no doubt he would show up when Arthur least expected (or wanted) him to.

Arthur came to the great double doors that stood at the entrance to the council chamber. He would need to be extra courteous to Nemeth's Princess and King. Mithian had personally invited him and Merlin to stay in her palace for a few nights, and Arthur didn't want her to regret her hospitality. He cleared his throat and fixed his cape, then reached out a hand to push open the door. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his face in a wide smile, and entered the chamber.

Meanwhile, while Arthur was playing diplomat and gracious guest of royalty, Merlin was trying to get horse dung off his shoes. He growled and scraped the goo off his soles, thinking about what Arthur must have been doing right about then. Sipping fine wine and chatting with the Lady Mithian, no doubt. And what was Merlin doing? Trying not to gag. He was about to straighten up and head to what was probably a feast when he spotted dripping brown stains on his pantslegs.

"Oh, great. Really, just great."

To the best of Merlin's knowledge, this was how the rest of the night went: once he had finished cleaning the dung off his shoes, he had been greeted in the council chamber by the sight of servants cleaning up the remains of a great feast. After His Royal Pratness had finished publicly scolding his manservant for being so late and so rude to their hosts, a servant had shown Merlin to his room. It was a nice room, but Merlin was too grumpy to really care much. He splashed some water on his face, flopped into bed, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

But even Emrys couldn't know everything. Unbeknownst to the young warlock, the horse dung hadn't been cleared entirely from his body. Little particles of animal feces remained on his hands from when he had scraped the goo off his shoes. His fortune was such that when he had washed his face, the particles had gone up his nose. Even while he coughed and retched from the unexpected water entering his nostrils, the particles clung on. When he went to sleep, they were free to fester and spread their viruses through his body.

Dawn came... and went. Arthur stomped down the hallways, searching for his manservant. He hadn't come in to wake him up that morning, and despite how annoying his daily "Rise and shine!" wakeup call was, missing it meant he didn't wake up on time, which meant that his morning routine was absolutely ruined. He would teach Merlin for not aggravating him with his peppy attitude. He scratched his head and looked around the unfamiliar castle. But first, he needed to find him. He had no idea where Merlin had been put, not having retired until later that same night.

After a few minutes of wandering, he happened to cross paths with the Princess Mithian. She smoothed the front of her white dress and smiled at him. He smiled back warmly.

"Felt like sleeping in?" She asked, her tone tinged with humor.

Arthur grimaced. "Merlin," he said, by way of explanation. "Have you seen him anywhere?"

"No," she said, "I haven't." Arthur's scowl deepened. "His room is right across from yours," she said, smiling at Arthur's disgruntled expression. Arthur thanked her and headed on his way, feeling a little ashamed that he hadn't checked all the rooms in his hallway. Of course Mithian wouldn't have separated them like that. And here he had been searching the whole castle- not that he would have spent much energy looking for Merlin. He wasn't a good enough manservant to warrant such effort.

He stood in front of his own door, looking around. This hallway had at least a dozen doors in it. He scratched his head, thinking. Which one was Merlin's? 'Right across from yours' could mean anything from literally opposite from Arthur's room to just in the same hallway. He decided to start with the literal meaning and knocked three times. He didn't get an answer, but Arthur was royalty, so he went in anyway.

"There you are, Merlin!" The blonde man crossed his arms and headed towards the bed, where a familiar shape lay curled underneath the blankets. "Merlin?" His tone wasn't angry anymore. His kingly senses were tingling: something wasn't right here. He pulled back the covers a bit and pushed Merlin gently onto his back so he could see his face. Arthur's breath hissed. His friend's face was pale and sweaty. The hair was slicked down and stuck onto his head as if he had just come inside from the rain. When Arthur gently touched Merlin's forehead, he had to yank his hand away and wring it in the air. It was like touching a furnace!

"Oh, Merlin," he said softly, his blue eyes peering down at his unconscious friend, "what've you done this time?" It looked like today wouldn't quite be as happy as yesterday had been.

A bit of explanation, I feel, is required. I'm accustomed to doing one-shots with a particular message; a multi-chaptered fic on a "normal" plotline is something that's currently outside of my comfort zone. So, that's what this is. It probably won't be any longer than three or four chapters, but that'll be enough for this exercise. Let me know what you think, and please, give me some criticism on how this goes. Practice makes permanent, not perfect, and I don't want to solidify bad habits in stone. Thanks for taking the time to read, thanks if you're taking a few seconds to drop a review, and I'll see you next chapter!