Hello, friends! I've finally written the expansion for A Motherless King, A Fatherless Warlock, and I'd like to thank everyone who read, favorited, or commented on it. (You don't necessarily have to read A Motherless King, A Fatherless Warlock before this story, but you are very welcome to do so, of course!) Please enjoy! (I'm also incredibly sorry for the wait, but at least it isn't as bad as the wait for Sherlock, right?)

Big thanks to Laree England for the request! I hope it's everything you hoped for and (possibly) more.

Disclaimer: Alas, I do not own any rights to the fabulous show Merlin or any of its characters.

Merlin could tell something was wrong with Arthur from the moment he walked into the room. The prince sat at his desk, hands folded, not saying a word. Untouched documents were spread out in front of him.

"Arthur? Is something wrong?" Merlin asked, standing in the doorway.

No change in expression followed. Instead, he asked a question.

"What is it like to have a mother?"

Merlin was taken aback, but he did his best not to show it.
"I'm sorry, sire?"

"Come on, Merlin. You heard me. What is it like to have a mother?" Arthur repeated, beginning to tap his fingers on the desk. He wouldn't meet Merlin's eyes.

"I don't know, what's it like having a father?" Merlin countered, slowly shutting the door behind him.

"Didn't you have one?" Arthur asked.

Merlin couldn't help but feel irritated. Arthur was just so stupid sometimes. "Of course I had one, but I never knew him."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Right. Of course. I'm sorry." He had heard stories like Merlin's before, of fathers running off and leaving their ladies alone, branded as whores and left with bastards to raise. Merlin's a bastard, he thought, but he quickly pushed it away. That's not a proper way to think of a friend. You should be ashamed of yourself. Maybe that isn't what happened to Merlin. Maybe his father died, or went missing, or-

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, pulling him out of his rambling thoughts.

"Yes?"

"Aren't you going to answer my question?"

"I'll answer yours if you answer mine," the prince said, and he was struck by how childish he sounded. I'll tell you if you tell me.

Merlin knew better than to protest. Arthur was always so stubborn. Just like a boy who grew up wanting for nothing would be, he thought. It wasn't a fair way of thinking, but Merlin was not in the mood for fairness.

"Fine. Having a mother...well, a mother loves you no matter what. She might be angry with you at times, certainly, but she will always love you. It takes a lot to make her stop loving you. She takes care of you when you're sick, patches you up when you hurt yourself, and helps scare the nightmares away. She just wants to make sure you're alright. Her goal in life is to protect you. Sometimes mothers can be smothering, but somehow you never grow tired of her. You love her just as much as she loves you. She carries you for months, watches you grow up, and sends you out into the world," Merlin said, thinking of his mother, back home in Ealdor. He recalled one of the many times he'd come home with a few scrapes after playing with Will...

"Oh, Merlin," Hunith sighed, shaking her head. Her son was coated in a fine layer of dirt with a small gash on his arm and grass stains on his pants. "What happened this time, sweetie?" She led him to a chair and sat him down before grabbing a rag to clean him off with.

"Well, um, Will and I were climbing the tree when this bird flew by and dropped a clump of dirt on us, so I fell out of the tree and then this...umm...this...chicken came by and pecked my arm!" he said, grimacing as Hunith began to scrub dirt off of his face.

Hunith stopped and stood, her hands on her hips. "Merlin. Were you using magic again?"

"Of course not, Mother! I fell out of the tree!" "Merlin..." Hunith said. Her voice took on the tone that all mothers know. The tone that means, Don't think you can fool me!

Merlin sighed, knowing he was defeated. "Yes, Mother. I used magic."

"I've told you you have to be careful!" Hunith said, but her voice softened when she saw the guilt on her son's face. "What exactly happened?"

"Will and I were playing over by the hill, and I started to make this big branch float, and Will grabbed on, and I accidentally made it fly down the hill, so I started running after it, but I tripped and started falling, and I cut my arm on a rock at the bottom."

"Is Will hurt?" Hunith asked, praying that no one had seen Merlin's reckless act.

"Will's fine," Merlin snorted. "He thought it was so funny, he didn't stop laughing 'til he got home!"

Hunith wrapped a bandage around the wound and said, "There, good as new!"

Merlin stared at the cloth before staring at his shoes, kicking his feet that were far from reaching the floor. "Are you mad at me, Mother?"

"Oh, Merlin," Hunith said, pulling her son into a hug. "Of course not. I just wish you'd be more careful."

"Do you miss her?"

"Hmm?" Merlin asked, pulled out of his memory.

"Your mother. Do you miss her?"

"Of course I do, but I can't live with her forever. I had to move on," Merlin said quickly. "Come on, you said you'd tell me what having a father is like!"

"Right. Yes. Well..." Arthur had no idea where to begin. Here Merlin was, spouting out this eloquent description of a mother's love, and he, Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot, had nowhere to start. He was being outdone by a servant. No, that wouldn't do. His pride would not allow it. "Having a father...to be quite honest, I don't think my father is the perfect example of what a father should be, but he has his good qualities. I mean, from what I've seen, a father teaches you many things, but in unorthodox ways. They aren't always as smothering as mothers are, but they aren't cold-hearted monsters, either. A father is like an instructor who teaches you little lessons: life isn't fair, sometimes people aren't quite good, that sort of thing. They are wise, and they want to pass that knowledge down to you. Though they don't always admit it, you're important to them. They might be too critical, too cold, but you still appreciate them and they appreciate you," Arthur finished. He thought of one of the many times Uther had truly seemed to care about his son...

He was young, around six or seven. He held a quill at an awkward angle and struggled to scratch out the six letters onto the parchment.

"A...r...t...h...u...r," the young prince said, saying the letters aloud as he struggled to make the lines straight. As he finished the last letter, he smiled, glad that the neatness of his letters was improving, and began to doodle on the page: a horse, a dog, a castle, a knight.

A shadow fell over the parchment, and his father pointed at two of the letters. "Your r's are backwards," he said.

Arthur's eyes began to water, and he bit his lip to try and keep from crying. He'd tried so hard. He had practiced his name for weeks, trying to figure out how to hold the quill, how much ink to use, how much pressure to apply, and his father still wasn't happy with him. Nothing pleased him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, and Uther soon noticed his mistake.

He laid a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder and said, "No, Arthur, you misunderstand. Your penmanship is excellent, I assure you. And it's very difficult to memorize what all the letters in the alphabet should look like. You've done an exceptional job."

Arthur sniffed, wiping at his eyes and smiling. "Thank you, Father."

Arthur snapped out of his daydream, fully aware that Merlin had been staring at him for quite some time without saying a word.

"Yes, Merlin? Why was it that you came in here?" the prince asked, not wanting to dwell on the past.

"The king has asked to see you," the servant said, opening the door.

"Of course." Arthur rose out of his chair. "Merlin?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Thank you." Both of them knew what he was thanking Merlin for.

"No, thank you."

Constructive criticism makes me happy. Reviews make me ecstatic. I also enjoy requests, and although I cannot guarantee that I will write your request, I will make every effort to do so. Thanks for reading, and have a lovely day!