"Where's Merlin?" Arthur says, and that's a pretty reasonable question, isn't it? No, no, forget it, that is a reasonable question, absolutely, that is a very reasonable question, that's a very reasonable question indeed, and there is no "pretty" or "kind of" needed here, it is a reasonable question, all on its own, and it's also a question Arthur has absolutely every right in the world to ask, because what is even the point of a servant at all if the servant just goes off and disappears! For three days! On a whim! And not a word to anyone about where he's gone, oh, no, of course not, because that would be too easy, wouldn't it, that would be far too easy, and God forbid Merlin go and make anything easy! No, he just has to go off all secret and silent about it, he has to slip away in the middle of the night, and all because he—all because he—all because—

All right! Fine! Arthur doesn't know! Arthur doesn't actually know! No idea! Not a clue! No! Nothing! He doesn't know where Merlin has gone, and he doesn't know why Merlin has gone, and he doesn't know when Merlin is finally going to get his sorry, skinny, magical bum back here at all, but if this was a gamble, he'd put every single shilling he's got on the idiot just fancied a break, or some rubbish like that, and of course, he just had to fancy a break right in the middle of Very Big and Important Things, like King Cynebald, and all the peace talks with King Cynebald, and the treaty with King Cynebald, and the alliance with King Cynebald, and—

All right! Look! Listen! A servant shouldn't go off and disappear for three days on a whim at all! Even without King Cynebald! Even without Very Big and Important Things! Even without peace talks and treaties and alliances, and—all right, look, okay, there really is a point to this, there really is a point to all of this, really, there is!

And the point.

The point is, Merlin can't do this! He can't just go away! Not right in the middle of Very Big and Important Things! But also, not at all! That's not the way it goes! That's not the way a servant works! Not that Merlin really works very much at all, actually, Arthur's pretty certain he'd die of shock if his chambers ever got, well, actually clean, and he's not sure he even remembers the way a bed is meant to look after it's made, and no, Guinevere, it's not because I "ask a lot of him", it's not because he "works for Gaius, too", it's not because he's "exhausted", it's because he's a lazy idiot who won't lift a finger if he can help it, and no, Gwaine, I do not "work him way too hard", he's fine, he's not shy about speaking up when he needs—

Well! The point!

Because, yes, there is a point to all of this! Remember! There is a point!

And the point! The point is this!

Merlin can't do this! It's not even legal! He could get himself hanged if he pulled this sort of thing with literally anybody else in the five kingdoms! He really could! And, if it turns out he really has scarpered off just to get a break, right in the middle of Very Big and Important Things like King Cynebald, well, the idiot is just out of a job from now on. And he'll only have himself to thank for that! Useless, lazy toad of a—

"Ah," Gaius drops the pestle down into the bowl with a light little clunk, and he very obviously does not look up at Arthur at all, "I believe he said he was going to the tavern, Sire."

Oh, and isn't that just the—the deception icing on the lying cake! Like Gaius really actually thinks the whole Merlin is a raging, cross-dressing alcoholic who can happily waste literally forty-eight hours in The Rising Sun cover can still hold up! Especially not now that the whole Merlin is actually a really ridiculously powerful sorcerer who can control the weather and command dragons and, also, he's like a magical lord, or king, or something like that, except he won't admit to it and he gets very red in the face and awfully huffy if you bring it up truth has already come out, so Gaius doesn't need the cover anymore, but he's still just going to give it all he's got, isn't he? Does he really think Arthur is just going to open up his mouth and swallow such an obvious load of absolute rubbish? Does he really think Arthur's just going to nod along and say, ah, yes, of course, the tavern, should have guessed? How thick does Gaius actually think he—?

Wait.

No.

Never mind.

Arthur's pretty certain he really does not want to know the answer to that. He scrapes a hand, hard, down the side of his face, and shakes his head. "So, I suppose that means there's an evil sorcerer on the loose and Merlin's gone off to handle things on his own. Without a word to me, or anyone except you." He arches a brow at Gaius. Funny. It's usually the other way 'round. "Am I getting warmer?"

Gaius opens his mouth. He moves his lips a few times, but no words actually come out. He shuts his mouth again.

"Right," Arthur huffs, and he pushes off the edge of the old man's cluttered desk. "Thank you for your time, Gaius."

Gaius opens his mouth again. "I—I'm certain he merely forgot to inform you, Sire."

No. Really. He actually says that. Word for word. To Arthur's face. The old man has absolutely no shame.

"Yes," Arthur says, dryly, "yes, of course, he forgot. How silly of me. Evil sorcerers are just the sort of thing to slip the mind. So difficult to remember."

Gaius actually gets up from his seat. "Now, Sire—"

"Send him to my chambers upon his return," Arthur breaks in—he doesn't really do that, he doesn't really like to do that, to just cut Gaius off in the middle like that, to just cut anybody off in the middle like that, except Merlin, of course, because the idiot won't shut up unless he does cut him off in the middle. "Immediately upon his return."

"Sire," a little frown tugs at Gaius' lip, "he has been missing for three days now. Upon his return, he is likely to be exhausted. Beyond exhausted. He will need rest. It would be a great disservice to him, to force him back into work so soon after the ordeal he has doubtless suffered."

Well, then, he should have told me where he was going, Arthur wants to say, wants to shout, really, he should have told me where he was going, he should have just told me, because I could have come with him, or I could have gotten one of the knights to go with him and look after him, but he didn't, he didn't do that, so it's his own damn fault, and don't even look at me like that, Gaius, you know it is, you know the idiot needs a lesson or ten in keeping so many secrets all the time, except Arthur doesn't say that. He doesn't say any of that.

"Perhaps," Arthur says, instead, "he shouldn't spend so much time in the tavern, then."

At least Gaius has got the grace to look a bit guilty.

"Immediately upon his return," Arthur insisted, "send him to me."

All right, so there is a very, very small chance here—very slim, mind you, but it's a chance, so, to be fair, Arthur's just going to put it on the table right now, because he's, well, the king, so he's got to be fair—but there is a chance Gaius might have been right. About Merlin. Maybe Arthur should have just swallowed his damned pride and listened to the old man. Maybe he should have just backed off and left Merlin to his rest, and handled all of this later. Maybe he should have just waited until Merlin had gotten a bit of sleep in. But that wasn't really, well, a choice on the list anymore, because he certainly can't back down now. He can't send the idiot off to his bed after the fuss he put up with would look bad. He would lose face. Also, Merlin would get to thinking he could weasel his way out of work if he only looked really, really pathetic, like he did right now, except he absolutely couldn't, thank you very much, he could not get out of work like that, that is not how it works, that is not how being a servant works.

"So," Arthur says—no, he is absolutely not going to send Merlin off to bed, he is not going to do that, but he's also not going to drag this out any longer than he's got to, come on, he's not cruel, "would you like to tell me where you've been for nearly a week?"

Perhaps, Arthur thinks, because hope springs eternal, and all of that, perhaps the idiot really has learned a lesson or two in honesty from all of this. Perhaps it's not going to be like pulling actual teeth to get the truth out of him. Perhaps Arthur will actually get to the bottom of all this within the hour.

"Sorry, Sire," Merlin says. "I was at the tavern."

Or perhaps not.

Notes: So, in accordance with the majority consensus here, I'm going to reopen Doppelganger and mark it as 'incomplete' to post it all under one fic! which works very well for me because I had absolutely zero titles for the next few pieces. rip to me. anyway! still working on the rest of it, but I found this rotting in my drafts and decided to go ahead and put it up.