So this is the last chapter! I do enjoy a little bit of drama, so this chapter is just a tiny bit heavier than the others, but it still ends on a light note. Enjoy!

Merlin supposed he should have suspected that it would have to end.

Arthur's good mood had been like the sun – in as rainy a country as Merlin lived, it was a rare thing. The three days it had been out had been fantastic, Merlin was even starting to look forward to going to work. Arthur had generally been all smiles and requests instead of orders, and the day off had been great, despite (or perhaps, because of) the fact that Arthur had been around. And then the pay raise, and Merlin kind of figured he was sitting pretty. He didn't know what he'd done to suddenly get in Arthur's good books. Maybe it was the fact that Gwen was still alive. Though Arthur couldn't know that Merlin had anything to do with it, it still felt like he was being rewarded. Merlin didn't have anything to complain about, certainly.

And then as soon as Merlin had gotten used to it, Arthur's good mood blew south. Maybe it was the tournament. Maybe it was fighting against his father in the tournament. Maybe it was losing the fight against his father. It was probably that.

Despite all of the good intentions Arthur had in purposefully throwing the fight so his father could save face, Arthur could get quite moody when he wasn't in the limelight, and he was a sore loser. The worst part about it for Merlin, though, was the fact that the prince would not shut up about it.

"Do you have any idea what's it's like to live with a man who constantly thinks he's the best?"

Merlin found this incredibly ironic, coming from Prince Arthur, whom the world simply revolved around. It must have shown on his face, because now Arthur was glaring at him. The servant forced up a surprisingly placating tone to answer with.

"No, I can't imagine."

It didn't exactly cut it, because Arthur just rolled his eyes and tossed his scabbard onto the table, where it landed with a clatter. "Shut up, Merlin, and help me off my armor."

Merlin bit his tongue for once. Arthur was hardly in the mood for anything overly smart right now. Merlin found he really wasn't all that keen on banter, either, feeling a little sharp himself. After all, he could never have just one worry at a time, could he? Even with Arthur being bratty and talking nonstop, Merlin found his thoughts wandering to the fight that would happen tomorrow, and Gilli, and how he knew that he had to stop the young warlock before he did anything to harm Uther. Honestly, if Arthur knew just how much Merlin did to protect everyone…

But he never could, could he?

He came forward as the prince bade and started undoing the straps as Arthur prattled on about his father.

"The man is insufferable! You know he's been trying to train me, as if I needed training- as if I couldn't knock him off his rear! His footwork needs work, do you know that, and he starts to lecture me-"

"I know where I wish you'd put your foot…"

It was probably the sharp mood that Merlin himself was in that gave him the spite to utter those words. With as loud as Arthur was talking, Merlin honestly hadn't expected him to catch the muttered phrase. But he did, of course, that was just Merlin's luck. It wasn't with a sharp rebuttal that Arthur came back at him, though. The prince snatched up his gauntlet off the table, where Merlin had laid it, and whirled around.

Merlin backed up a pace and instinctively put his hands up to protect his head, hoping this little tantrum would end Arthur's bad mood. It certainly wasn't the first time Arthur'd thrown things at him, it just wasn't usually this close range. Merlin took another step back to get further away, but his foot caught on the rug and he hit the ground. A small wince left him as the wind was knocked out of his lungs, and he landed on his rear, where just a couple days ago he'd been whipped by that rogue who wanted his boots licked clean. The spot still smarted. The wince was pained, but Merlin remembered himself and just kept it to a grimace – he had to stay in this moment, protect himself from what was going on now. He bit his tongue and kept his hands up to defend himself from the piece of armor that was certain to come sailing at his head.

About ten seconds passed, and Merlin heard a clatter. He opened his eyes and found that Arthur had dropped the gauntlet and was staring at Merlin with something between shock and concern in his eyes.

"What?" Merlin finally asked, to break the silence when Arthur didn't.

It took Arthur a moment. "You fell."

Merlin held in his scoff. Thank you, Captain Obvious. "It's hardly a rare thing."

"No, you… you were running, you flinched back-"

This time, Merlin did scoff. "You were going to throw your gauntlet at me!" he retorted. Honestly, Arthur could be so thick sometimes… He was shocked, now, as Arthur flinched a little, something like guilt in his eyes. But Merlin pressed on. "I've learned to at least try to dodge, you've got quite an arm," he said. When Arthur still didn't say anything, Merlin huffed a little sigh and got back to his feet, scooping up the gauntlet as he did and sitting it back on the table, though out of Arthur's immediate reach. This did not seem to escape Arthur's notice, and it made the upset look on his face grow. Merlin wasn't sure he liked it. "What?" he repeated. "This is hardly an uncommon occurrence, Arthur," he said, snapping a little. He couldn't help it, honestly. What right did Arthur have to complain all day, threaten Merlin with a pommeling, and then act like he was the hurt one?

"Have I ever mistreated you?"

Arthur asked the question so suddenly that Merlin wondered how long he had been bursting with it. It wiped away Merlin's indignation with shock.

He knew what mistreated servants looked like, he'd seen them before. There had been Trickler, to start with, that sorcerer that was at Alined's beck and call. Merlin doubted the man was still alive, after having been chained and forced to run all the way back to his king's castle, for failing to start a war. Then there were times when knights and lords from nearby lands visited – Merlin had seen the skittish way some of those servants had edged around their masters, eyes downcast and movements careful and voices quiet and respectful. Even here, in the citadel, it was not unheard of for unruly servants to be ordered to be clapped in irons by a guard or a knight or even Uther himself for some indiscretion to spend the night in the dungeon.

Even though Merlin himself had been shoved in the stocks more than once (which was really unfair since it was usually because he was doing something to save Arthur's skin, but the prince couldn't know that) there had never been such a dynamic between he and the prince. Just as Merlin had never really been the subservient type, it was rarely something that Arthur had ever demanded of him. And outside of a few well-meaning shoves or jostles or playful punches to the arm, Arthur never raised a hand to Merlin. Sure, there was the throwing-of-closest-nearby-items issue, but comparatively, Merlin had it good. It was less servant and master in the room when they were alone, and more two friends. Merlin had saved Arthur's life many times, and though he wasn't keeping score, Arthur had proved himself just as willing to protect Merlin. They weren't exactly equals, especially not in public, but they were friends.

Merlin had kind of assumed that Arthur knew that. The prince let him get away with far more than he brooked from other servants, or even the knights. Even when Arthur was fed up with Merlin, there was never more than a threatening word or, as had been shown today, a carelessly pitched gauntlet that would do no more than smart for a few minutes. There had never been the threat of beatings, nor any sort of actual abuse. Merlin held a deep trust and respect for Arthur, which lead to him being really, really confused about why this worry had suddenly taken ahold of the prince. It really had no reason to be there.

Then, things started clicking into place.

He hardly had to think about it, once it made sense. He just started laughing. "Arthur!" he said, shaking his head a little. "Is that what all of this has been about? The… the day off, the pay raise- heaven, the jacket, too, and… sending me back with food, going to the market with me?" he questioned. Arthur now looked less penitent and more like a toddler whom Merlin had just caught with a hand in the cookie jar. The prince opened his mouth to respond, but Merlin was almost howling with laughter, one hand bracing on the table as he bent double. "This isn't because of what Dragoon said?" he asked.

Arthur wondered if he had always been such an open book.

And Merlin, well, the thought that something he'd said while in the guise of a half-senile old sorcerer had affected Arthur this much… oh, it was priceless.

"Would you stop laughing!?" Arthur finally spluttered, putting his hands on Merlin's shoulders and tugging him upright. "I'm being serious, Merlin!"

Merlin's laughter cooled back to an occasional chuckle. "Arthur," he started, something fond in his voice that only surfaced itself when Arthur found he most needed it. "If you mistreated me, do you honestly think you wouldn't hear about it?"

Arthur's grip on Merlin's shoulders relaxed a little. "It's just, sometimes the things you say when you think I'm not listening…"

"Arthur." Merlin shook his head, putting his hands on Arthur's wrists and gently prying the prince's hold off of his shoulders. "You may be an arrogant brat, but that doesn't mean you're not my friend."

For once, Arthur didn't correct him on the term. So Merlin continued. "Besides, I can tell how much you've been trying the past few days. Clearly, you care-" the servant snickered as Arthur averted his eyes and stammered a denial on reflex, "-and if I actually found you intolerable, you think I'd have stuck it out in this job for four years? They tell me that before I came, you couldn't keep a manservant for more than a week."

"You aren't like the rest."

Merlin's eyebrows went up and he smiled. It was rare, incredibly rare, to hear Arthur say something so open. It shut Merlin up for a moment, so he could just bask in that sentiment. Arthur was trying. He really was trying to be a good friend. And even if he had a strange way of going about it, with his little handouts and trying to help Merlin out and just generally not being prattish… Merlin did appreciate the effort. Arthur remained quiet, because it seemed like he had nothing more to say. Until,

"Oh, don't look so pleased, you're not that special."

Merlin shook his head and rolled his eyes. "As you say, sire," he said. The silence between them went unbroken for a long while after this. Merlin finished helping Arthur out of his armor and sat down to polish it at the prince's table as Arthur moved over to his desk. Merlin was just starting to think about breaking the easy quiet between them, when Arthur suddenly did.

"Thank you," he said, and Merlin absolutely lit up.

"Don't overdo it, Arthur, I'll start to get the idea that you aren't the prat you pretend to be."

Arthur gave a quiet chuckle in return. He couldn't put it to words, really, what Merlin meant. His one friend in the world, he didn't know what he'd do if Merlin left. Probably wake up late. Trip over things in his own room all the time because no one was there to look after him. Put his clothes on backwards and look like an idiot in dented and unpolished armor. Oh, sure, there could always be a new servant. But there wasn't another person like Merlin.

Luckily, Arthur didn't have to say things like this, because it seemed Merlin already knew. If the fond look in his eyes was any giveaway.

Arthur shook his head a little. "Can't you just say 'you're welcome', like a normal person?" he asked, joking. Merlin's smile only grew.

"Fine. …you're welcome, Arthur."

This concludes my first Merlin fanfic! Thank you to everyone who read, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review to let me know what you liked - hopefully I'll be writing again soon!