A shorter companion piece mainly from Arthur's point of view. And yes, I'm pretty sure they didn't have doormats but I don't care, it's 1:30am.

Torn

The only thing which really changed in the aftermath of the Questing Beast was Merlin. Gaius had made excuses for Merlin for two days, citing that his mother had come to visit and was sick. When he'd come back Merlin had been thinner and looking more tired and worn, but a Prince wouldn't really notice how healthy - or unhealthy – his servant was looking so Arthur didn't comment on it.

But as the weeks wore on it didn't seem to just be Merlin's appearance which was changing, there was less and less banter between them. Before, Arthur had always thought that he couldn't wait for Merlin to actually learn to be a proper servant: quiet, respectful, so on and so forth, but now he was being as proper as Merlin could be Arthur found himself hating it. Oh he still responded with 'Prat' or variations thereof whenever Arthur called him an idiot and cuffed him around the head but the boundaries and bonds between them seemed to have dissolved.

So Arthur did what Arthur had spent the first twenty odd years of his life doing, he pushed. Pushed to see where the boundaries were now, when Merlin would snap back at him or laugh at him. However no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how stupidly he acted towards Merlin there was no reaction. Merlin was still willing to dive in front of some deadly beast for him but there was no interaction any more.

Not only that but Merlin was even trying with his work, okay so he was failing badly but he was actually trying and that was rather disturbing. Then there was the weird look he gave Arthur every time he saw him: part sadness, part worry and part determination.

Honestly, he couldn't figure it out at all. Merlin had turned into a complete doormat.