"Aren't you forgetting something, Merlin?" The demand came with a stifled yawn, somewhere from the direction of the massive four-poster, covered in fluffy duvets and pillows. At the head, some ruffled blonde locks were visible, smothered in downy cushions. The first time the prince had asked his manservant this question, the young Merlin had panicked. He knew he was a mess of a servant, tripping over his own gangly limbs, but he did all his chores despite his forgetfulness. However, something in his mind made Arthur's wellbeing priority and Arthur often found the stables mucked, his armour polished and his laundry done before he could even ask Merlin to do them. The time that Arthur had first asked Merlin whether he wasn't forgetting anything, the boy swiftly turned on his heel, eyes shooting back and forth, scrutinizing the prince's chambers for a candle still lit, a pillow misplaced or Arthur's royal slippers not next to his bed on the right. Sweat beads had formed in the nape of his neck.

"Uhm, what is it, Sire?"

A disappointed and very irritated sigh came from under the ridiculously large mountain of blankets, but then a meaningful chuckle followed and Merlin relaxed a little.

"Arthur, what's so amusing?"

"Merlin, when you weasled your way out of sword practise and then mysteriously disappeared for hours...?"

Pang. Arthur was more observant than Merlin gave him credit for. He thought he'd been reasonably safe: there had been more than enough knights to practise with that afternoon and it was market day. Merlin loved market day, when he was not pot-collecting at least. He had strolled around, committed some general tomfoolery and had then gone to sit on a small clearing in between some stalls and the cattle market. He watched the townspeople do their groceries and waited for his audience to come. Hours? Had he been away that long?

"Well, yes, the knights were there and Gaius needed me..."

"I needn't tell you that you are a pathetic liar, Merlin," Arthur said sleepily. "Were you out entertaining peasant kids again?"

Merlin's eyes widened at the bluntness of that question, not to mention the obviously suggestive tone.

"NO," he hissed, denying the vulgar accusation, "Wait, how do you know- "

How DID Arthur know that Merlin told stories to the children on the market?

"When you were not there to get me out of my armour, I realised it was Market day and I decided to look for you myself. In disguise, of course."

Merlin gasped in horror, in realisation of what Arthur meant.

"You-"

"You have charisma, Merlin, I must admit, but story telling is not part of your job."

A red blush was creeping up Merlin's neck, warm blood pounding in his ears. He had a life besides Arthur and his destiny, believe it or not, and small as it may be, he enjoyed it. Especially the odd day on which he could unleash his creativity on the little children at the marketplace, making their day just a little more special. He loved the kid's reactions and begs for more, the gasps and widened eyes when he reached a climax in his story, the genuine laughter when there was a comical character.

Arthur cleared his throat. impatiently, obviously expecting an explanation. Merlin just blinked at his master in flannel pajamas.

"Merlin, when you tell stories... you have a way of performing rather than speaking. It's almost magical. You deserve the stocks for deserting me today, but I can tell you enjoy doing it. You get to continue your quality time with the commoners, but you also have to do something for me."

Merlin swallowed audibly, but remained quite still.

"Yes, sire?"

"You won't be the first to know I don't sleep particularly well. Gaius' sleeping-draughts work occasionally but I find I don't rest very well all the same. I want to try something... How about you tell me a bedtime story so I can get my night's rest?" For this not very manly request, Arthur had to glare at Merlin in order to keep some of his dignity.

Merlin had kept a straight face for nearly three seconds.

"Uhm, a bedtime story, sire?" He managed to keep his laughter in, but his eyes, sparkly blue and glittering cheekily, betrayed him.

"Yes, Merlin, call it whatever you like, a pre-nocturnal tale, I don't care. Proceed."

Then, Merlin lapsed into an uncontrollable laughing fit that, had Arthur not smothered his face with one of his silk pillows, he would have woken everyone in the castle's royal wing. Merlin hiccoughed and wiped the moisture from his eyes as he calmed down. Never had he thought the prince to ask this of him. He didn't mind telling Arthur a bedtime story... In fact, he was happy he got off so lightly and got another listener for his imagination.

"What would you like to hear, sire?"

"The story you started today at the marketplace. I could only stay a few minutes or I'd be recognised..."

Merlin smiled. This was a side of Arthur he had never anticipated... the prat could be arrogant, overbearing, and grumpy, also fair, truthful and kindhearted, but he had never thought the prince to be... childish. In need for attention, a story before going to sleep... it was endearing, really. Merlin watched as his master snuggled deeper into his cave of duvets and actively listened, attention focused on his manservant.

"Very well. Here we go." Merlin switched to performing mode. "In a land of myth and at a time when magic was not yet considered evil and had not been banished from the kingdom..."