Episode tag for 2.01, 'The Curse of Cornelius Sigan.' Enjoy. : ) Reviews are love, and I will respond to them all!

All in all, Merlin concluded, it had been one of the worst nights of his life. He could still feel the deathly chill of Sigan's curse, threatening to engulf him completely in its strange mist.

Many in Camelot still feared the possibility of gargoyles attacking them in the streets. The knights worked tirelessly to restore morale as well as the architectural damage inflicted on the city during the magic fight against the kingdom.

It was hard, knowing that with a few choice words and a small measure of effort he could single-handedly repair the whole city, but that by law he was unable to do so. If not for Uther, Merlin would not have to fear helping Camelot the only way he knew how. If not for Uther, there wouldn't be so many bloody sorcerers out to destroy the city for revenge in the first place.

That was a thought best kept in the private recesses of his heart.

And so Merlin resigned himself to helping out as though he didn't know dozens of spells to mend and tidy things, the same way everyone else he knew was helping out - manually. It was too damn early in the morning to have left his bed, much less to be out and about, clearing the debris off the streets so that Uther's pretty little kingdom would return to its usual flawless self.

Even in the cool of dawn, Merlin's forehead was slick with sweat. He was the first to admit his lack of muscular prowess (well, perhaps Arthur was the first), and some of the slabs of stone were twice the size of his head, ears and all. He tended to avoid those ones.

It was nearing the time when Merlin ought to take Arthur his breakfast, but there was already so much work to do. If Arthur even dared to hint that Merlin was neglecting his servant duties, Merlin was not responsible for any incident, magical or otherwise, that might occur as a result.

When the sun was creeping ever closer to the point directly overhead, Merlin finally swiped at his brow with his sleeve and decided it was time to call it a day. He looked around, examining his handiwork. Together, he, the knights, and several of the other lowers townsfolk had managed to clear out most of the major hazards. The litter that remained - smaller stones, dust from glass that had shattered into oblivion, small odds and ends that had been thrown from the destroyed tower rooms - that could wait until later. For now, Merlin was starving.

Gaius was waiting with a steaming pot of broth and a chunk of bread on a plate when Merlin returned to their chambers. The weary warlock smiled gratefully and dug in immediately, hardly caring that the broth was scalding his throat.

After a few minutes of patiently watching his ward devour his lunch, Gaius said simply, "Arthur has requested that you attend to him the moment you're finished with your work in the courtyard. It's probably best you don't let on that I allowed you lunch first."

Merlin groaned into his bread, then looked up. "He came here himself?"

Gaius shook his head. "He sent a messenger."

"Of course." Merlin took another gloomy bite, his enthusiasm drained at the prospect of more work. Gaius gave him a look that clearly said he'd be better off getting it over with. Merlin sighed, crammed the rest of the bread into his mouth, and hurried off to the prince's chambers, habitually leaving the door wide open in his wake.

He didn't even bother to knock, which he guessed was what earned him the hard stare he received, but Arthur said nothing. Shame. Merlin liked to think he possessed skill enough to reduce the prince to shouting every time they graced each other's presence.

"Right, I need you to clean my room, wash my tunic, polish my armor, and muck out my horses." Merlin rolled his eyes. "Do the armor and tunic first, I need them ready for tomorrow. I have future knights to train."

"Yes, sire," Merlin acknowledged with a mocking bow. He turned to leave for the armory, but Arthur's voice held him back.

"Wait."

Merlin stopped obediently, although he had half a mind to just stroll through the door anyway before Arthur could pile him with more tasks he had neglected to mention. If Arthur seriously thought he needed a heavier workload, then he could take a flying leap…

"Umm, about Cedric-"

Relief flooded through Merlin. "Oh, don't worry about that. It's fine." He wouldn't admit how much it had really hurt that Arthur had so little faith in him.

At least, that was what he told himself, and he would have held to it, if Arthur didn't insist on proving what a prat he was. "I was hardly worried about it," the prince scoffed. "I just… I should have believed you. And I suppose… I'm - sorry?"

Only Arthur could succeed in making an apology so insulting. It wasn't the wording so much as the tone he used that caused Merlin to snap. "Yes, you should have! I work my ass off for you every single day, I've been completely loyal to you since day one, I've never given you a reason to doubt my word, and then I get shoved aside in favor of some bootlicking conman off the streets who just so happens to turn up right when a tomb full of riches is discovered under Camelot, and offers his services to the man who, coincidentally, has the only key?"

He took a deep breath, and Arthur said, in what he thought was a reasonable voice, "Merlin," but Merlin wasn't done.

"And then what happens when I try to warn you about him? I get tossed in the dungeons to 'cool off,' because it's clearly me whose head isn't screwed on all the way-"

"Merlin!" Arthur almost yelled. Merlin blinked at him, instantly regretting what he'd said. Well, not regretting, really, because someone needed to let Arthur know how much of an ass he was once in a while, but he was definitely fearing the reaction until: "You're right."

Merlin blinked again. "I am?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Idiot."

"Prat," Merlin shot back automatically, but he felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips and allowed it to stretch his mouth into a wide grin. It seemed everything was back to normal again.

After a brief silence, Arthur clapped him on the back and said, "Well, you'd best get to those chores I gave you. And remember, armor and tunic first. And for God's sake, don't let the horses out."

Merlin couldn't explain the cheerful mood he was in as he sat on his bed a half hour later, shining Arthur's breastplate by hand. Somehow he knew that not only were he and Arthur okay again, they were better than before. That he could shout at Arthur without fearing retribution was a nice feeling. It meant the prince really did hold him in some regard.

All in all, he concluded, last night had been one of the worst in his life. But today? That almost made it worth it.