Erm... so... hi. If you happen to read The One Without... I'm working on it?

I know this is short, and most or all of them probably will be. Hopefully a few people like it, because I've already started and/or finished like three more chapters. If you have anything you'd particularly like to see, I can try to work it in somewhere! Not sure how long this will be, or whether it'll go past season one... I guess that'll depend on if people want to read more. Don't worry, this isn't going to proceed as "Day One, Day Two, Day Three," etc. I'm not crazy enough to do THAT.

Also, title may change. Be warned.

As for now, though... enjoy!

Day 1

In the future, Merlin would not consider this his first day of work—not because he did not work, but rather for the following reasons.

Reason One: It was more of a training day, even if the training was largely done by the prince himself and involved a lot of chores, some of which he was pretty sure were made up. Still, Morris was there helping for the vast majority of it, and the former manservant seemed ridiculously relieved in a way that furthered Merlin's abject horror about his position.

Reason Two: It was pure, unadulterated hell, and his memory decided it was best left out.

He knew from the moment he entered the prince's chambers (late, because it took him half an hour to figure out where they were) that it was going to be a bad day. Prince Arthur scowled at him when he entered-come to think of it, he probably should've knocked-and there was a long, forcibly awkward pause that made Merlin fidget after a while.

"Well," Arthur drawled, looking Merlin up and down, "look who's arrived. Finally. Lucky for you that other servant thought to bring me my breakfast, or I'd have you in the stocks already. Come on, I need to get dressed."

Merlin mentally cursed Arthur and thanked Morris at the same time, Arthur for being even more of a prat than Merlin had thought and Morris for having a beautiful amount of foresight. Whatever, now that he knew where Arthur's chambers were, he'd just have to remember to stop at the kitchens before he-

Wait. Get dressed?

"Don't tell me you can't even put your own clothes on!" Merlin exclaimed incredulously. How far removed from reality were these pretentious nobles?

Prince Arthur drew himself up. "I assure you I am capable," he snapped. "It is your job, however, and I expect you to do it without complaining. That wardrobe there—" he pointed, "—has all my ceremonial clothes. The one next to it holds what I wear on a daily basis."

What princes wore on a daily basis was clearly not to be compared to what most people wore on a daily basis, because Merlin had never owned anything quite so fine as Arthur's "casual" tunics. He could tell how expensive the fabric was just by touching it.

Beyond that, there were more clothes in the wardrobe than any man needed. Merlin wouldn't have been a bit surprised if it turned out Arthur had never even worn some of them.

He pulled out what he assumed was Arthur's worst pair of trousers and plainest tunic. That was the easy part. The next part was the part he was not looking forward to.

Merlin spent the next five minutes occupying his brain with things other than the fact that he was helping another adult man get dressed. It was viciously awkward, and to make matters worse, his fingers kept fumbling over ties, which only served to drag out the whole process.

When the deed was done and he found himself still alive, the rest of the day looked infinitely more survivable than before.

He shouldn't have made such assumptions. After all, his friend Will had taught him a clever phrase about what assuming did.

It wasn't necessarily that the work itself was terrible. Sure, when Morris came along later and started explaining what sorts of things the prince would have expect of him everyday, he was far from excited about the prospect. However, much less bearable than the chores was his master.

Arthur Pendragon clearly did not like Merlin one bit.

"I told you to polish my armor," he remarked snidely, "not run a rag over it. I can see the smudges from here. And in what reality would you call this blade sharp?"

"That's because I haven't sharpened it yet!" Merlin exclaimed, holding up the prince's helmet and a polishing rag. "I'm busy with everything else you've got me doing!"

Arthur scoffed. "Good Lord, you're useless. Don't think for a second I'm going to give you any special treatment just because my father appointed you. I expect you to do your job right, or you won't have a job at all."

Bloody shame, Merlin thought. "Let's not forget why your father appointed me," he said. "Something about me saving your life, I think. But never mind that, I'm sure it's expected that someone's to drop what they're doing and push you out of harm's way every time a knife's flying at you. Wouldn't dream of special treatment, Sire."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "You are the most insolent human being I have ever had the displeasure of meaning, and if you carry on talking to me like that, I will throw you in jail."

"What," said Merlin, unable to hold back, "you mean again?"

The third reason Merlin did not like to count this as his first day of work:

It was cut short by a sudden and unwelcome trip to the stocks.