Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters, places, or events referenced herein. Be very, very thankful.

Note: I'm awefully new to this fandom but when this plot bunny started running circles in my brain I couldn't help but set it free. This is just a super fluffy one-shot, heavy on the bromance-tastic banter with some light H/C on the side. It could take place in practically any part of the series, but I tend to think it would happen later on at one of the warmer points in their friendship. Reviews are love! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it. Yoroshiku ne!

A Tale of Worth, Loyalty, and Nonexistent, Deceased Pets

"Good morning, sire!" Merlin's ever enthusiastic greeting was accompanied by the most unwelcome unveiling of the window and cold white light filled Arthur's chamber in an instant, causing Camelot's prince to groan in unabashed agony.

He was not regal in the morning. Hell, he could barely manage human in the morning.

Hiding under a hefty pillow he growled. "For the love of all that's holy, Merlin, would you cover the damn window!"

"Fraid I can't do that sire," the manservant said cheerily as he cleared a space for his master's breakfast tray. There was a momentary hitch in his smile that went unnoticed.

"Why. Ever. Not?" Arthur snarled slowly. He really could be very unpleasant at times like this.

"Well," said Merlin, fetching over the pitcher, filling Arthur's cup, and moving on to tidying around the room, "You have a meeting with Lord Caliandron later today and you made me swear to wake you at about..." Merlin squinted at the window, "... ten minutes ago."

There was silence for a moment then a shoe sailed through the air at Merlin.

"I did not."

The servant dodged the shoe, though somewhat less deftly than usual.

"Oh, I really think you did." Merlin answered carefully, trying with limited success to keep the know-it-all out of his voice.

"Well," another shoe sailed through the air, thrown sideways it moved faster than the first and caught Merlin in the side, eliciting a proper yelp. "I didn't mean it."

"I think you'll find," Merlin ventured, brightly still, though he held his side exaggerating the supposed injury, "when you've done being all out-of-sorts," he backed away slowly not quite able to hide the slight limp in his gait, looking for shelter from the next inevitable projectile, "That you actually did mean it."

The next volley came. It was only a pillow, but Merlin overcompensated and flailed into a curtain, which knocked down some precariously stacked armor and the end result was a crescendoing crash and a pile of arms, legs, and metal pieces.

Arthur grinned, sat up, and swung his legs out of bed, now properly awake. It wasn't morning until he'd tripped up his klutz of a servant. Right about now Merlin would be popping up wearing half a suit of armor and rejoining the battle with some witty comment about royal prattishness or something of the sort. Wouldn't he?

Arthur waited a tick, swinging his legs back and forth, and all he heard was a soft groan and the shifting of a piece of metal or two.

And then recollection hit him like a sack of stones and he froze.

The reason he was so out-of-sorts, the reason the armor was stacked precariously and the room so desperately needed tidying, the reason Merlin had looked more pale than even the cold winter light warranted and why he'd been favoring his left leg slightly- Merlin had been injured in a hunting expedition-turned-battle and Gaius had only just allowed the boy back to his duties at the castle.

The prince kicked himself mentally, and hopped off the bed. Cursing his thoughtlessness but unable to express regret without injury to his princely dignity, he rounded the cabinet behind which his servant had fallen.

He looked down imperiously, hands on his hips in royal indignation as Merlin looked up from trying to get his stiff leg under him without reopening the wound, all the while supporting recently broken ribs with one hand. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he still managed to look up at Arthur with the guilty expression of a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

"What on earth are you doing down there," Arthur asked loftily.

"Well- I just thought I'd...you know -" the servant sputtered, scrambling a bit to clearly no good result.

"Shut up, Merlin," the prince proclaimed, though he couldn't keep the hint of concern out of his voice.

He leaned down and, carefully, so as not to aggravate the man's injuries, hoisted Merlin to his feet and guided him to sit on the side of the bed. Arthur then went to the table, retrieved the breakfast tray, sat down beside him, and proceeded to tuck in.

Merlin, sufficiently recovered at his point, eyed his master suspiciously.

"If you're not well, Merlin, you shouldn't come in to work." Arthur said between bites.

Merlin just stared. Arthur handed him a hunk of bread.

"You make me look bad- keeping half-beaten servants about."

"Wouldn't want that..." Merlin mumbled sarcastically. He tore into the bread while giving Arthur a challenging look.

The prince gave him a half-smile and turned away, shaking his head. "You know what's been bothering me, Merlin?" He asked the servant.

"Doubt it." said Merlin, feigning disinterest. Arthur often used used him as a sounding board for personal situations of the sort that he couldn't appropriately share with his knights or nobles. Merlin always did his part to advise his friend, but part of his role was also to give the prince grief for it.

Arthur leaned forward after giving Merlin the last piece of meat and shifted the tray to the side.

"I owned this hound..." Arthur began.

"A hound?" Merlin couldn't resist the chance to poke fun,"Really? That's what's got you moping about."

Arthur feigned a blow to the back of Merlin's head and the servant cringed, still grinning.

"Can I finish explaining!"

Merlin made a show of shutting up and looking innocent and Arthur rolled his eyes and continued. "It was barely a hound really- just a mutt that followed me home when I was a boy." He rested his chin in his hand thoughtfully.

"Stupid thing was completely useless. It was rubbish at hunting; made too much noise and couldn't catch a scent, too scrawny to guard anything, though it tried and got in the way more often than not, and it couldn't even fetch a stick to save its life. It just followed me around giving me dopey looks and being a complete nuisance. One day I went on a hunt with the whole pack of royal hounds and this mutt came along too. Didn't even think about it really, it was more of a bother to get it to stay behind." He gave a rueful look and Merlin raised an eyebrow.

"But then a bear came out of the woods. Straight at me and the hounds. All those trained hunting dogs scattered and ran, to a head. As the bear was nearly upon me the mutt leapt in out of nowhere and bit the bear right on the nose. I never saw an animal that big look so surprised. 'Course it only took the bear a few seconds to shake the dog off and half kill him, but that was all the time I needed to drive my sword home and finish him off. Strange how that one stupid, loyal hound was worth more than all the other proper ones put together."

Merlin cocked his head, not sure what to think of Arthur waxing this philosophical so early in the morning. "You know, you're surprisingly good with metaphor sire." he said, "but a simple "thanks" would do just as well."

"Thanks?" the prince asked incredulously. "THANKS?" he nearly shouted. "You, Merlin, are unbelievable! You've got to be the most conceited servant this kingdom has ever seen! You really think everything is about you!"

"So you're really talking about a dog." Merlin looked skeptical.

"YES!"Arthur replied, "What else would I be talking about!"

"Right," said Merlin, in a voice meant to appease. "Of course, sorry. Go on."

"What?"

"Go on with the story. What else about the dog? I mean, that can't have happened yesterday, can it?"

"Right. No, of course not. Well the dog lived," Arthur paused, trying to come up with the next bit, then inspiration struck, "...but he lost a leg and has been faithfully harassing everyone who passes the armory since then."

Now it was Merlin's turn for outrage (somewhat muted, of course, coming from him)."Wait, the three legged dog outside the armory- that's your hound?"

Arthur nodded as if it were only a matter of course and he hadn't come up with the idea moments ago.

Merlin was clearly and rightfully horrified. That seemingly demon-possessed animal had made his life miserable for his first month at the castle, before he finally learned of the alternate route that many of the servants took to avoid the armory area altogether.

Then again, the miserable creature did look to have been mauled by a bear at some point...

"That..." Merlin sputtered..."That is possibly the nastiest animal I have ever met in my entire life."

Arthur just nodded smugly.

"Monsters included!" Merlin qualified.

Arthur gave him a sour look. If he was going to claim the creature then he had to be appropriately defensive of it.

"It is violent, and mean spirited, and indiscriminately vicious,..." Merlin went on.

"And," Arthur interjected to point out- "fiercely loyal."

Merlin was speechless. The possibility that the prince actually had affection for that creature was unthinkable. But somehow he wasn't quite sure he should chance calling the prince's bluff. Then a thought struck him. "So what's bothering you about the dog?" he asked. "Did he finally succeed in killing some innocent servant?"

"No, he died." Arthur said shortly, with attempted resignation. "Got kicked by a horse just yesterday." He gave a slow nod and what he hoped was a sad frown. "Snapped his neck like that." He accented the word with a snap of his fingers that made the once-again horrified Merlin start.

"I'm...sorry." Merlin finally said, at a loss for words not for the first time in this conversation.

Arthur continued nodding morosely. "Yeah...me too..." He led Merlin in a moment of silence for his nonexistent, deceased pet.

"Right," the prince hopped to his feet, closing the awkward conversation with the kind of senseless confidence that only a person of royal blood can pull off successfully.

"You- are going to report back to Gaius." He said, standing his servant up and pushing him toward the exit. "I am going to get ready to meet Lord Colander. "

"It's Caliandron!" Merlin pointed out, trying to stop himself being pushed out the door.

"Right, Coriander, whatever." Arthur said brashly, still herding Merlin out.

"Caliandron," Merlin growled, "He's got two daughters and he wants you to marry one. Olive and Johanna. One you don't like, the other you like less.

Arthur paused for a moment. "Oh, that Coriander." A slightly queasy look crossed his face. Then he resumed his efforts as Merlin tried to stall.

"He is strongly averse to hand-shaking, he will only sit on chairs facing eastward, he demands to be addressed as "Your Grace" because of some religious title bestowed on him, and..." Merlin put his hands up as they reached the doorway. "...Arthur, I really think you're going to need my help with this."

Arthur extinguished his grin, speaking seriously for the first time this morning. "He is offended by any offers of alcohol but strongly favors red meat, he holds leverage against us with control of the the south-western trade routes, but that is offset by his dependence on us for protection from Cenred." He paused. "Am I missing anything?"

Merlin shook his head, appropriately silent. He was more than a little surprised at his master's show of competence.

Arthur blew out a sigh and lent an arm on the door-frame. "Honestly, Merlin. I am the future king. Give me credit for having some skills."

"I will." Merlin said. And he meant it.

"Now," Arthur grasped his servant's shoulder firmly. "Get down to Gaius, get some rest, and don't let me see you back here until you can fall down, and get back up again under your own power. Is that clear?"

"Crystal." Merlin said with a genuine smile.

Arthur released him and he turned to go. "Just one more thing." Merlin said, from out in the hall.

Arthur leaned out the doorway to answer, "What's that?"

"Who is it you're meeting today, again?" Merlin asked innocently.

"Coriarkin. No!"

Merlin grinned broadly and kept walking.

Arthur stabbed the air with his finger, "Caliarkron!"

Merlin's chuckle had him grasping his sore ribs.

"Caliandrus...damnit! I will get it!" Arthur yelled after the retreating servant.

After Merlin had gone he ran a hand through his scarecrow mop of hair and blew out a breath. Still muttering variations on that thrice-accursed name, he began getting ready, paying careful attention to clothing-related propriety so that he wouldn't have to eat his words later on. He noticed out the window the distant figure of Merlin crossing the courtyard, heading, indeed, towards the chambers he shared with Gaius. Arthur paused for a moment to watch and breathed an unconscious sigh of relief. Even ostensibly unobserved, Merlin's limp was only slight and he carried himself without obvious pain. With a little more rest Arthur's loyal friend would be just fine. Only once Merlin had disappeared into his chambers did Arthur open his door again and wave over the nearest guard.

"There's a three legged dog apparently living near the armory." Arthur told the guard, who did an excellent job of not reacting to this curious statement. Arthur handed the guard several coins. "If it belongs to anyone I want you to pay them twice what it's worth, take it all the way down to Westfold and leave it with Captain Garris. Is that understood?"

"Ye...yes, sire!" The guard stammered, but saluted smartly, took the coins and left.

Arthur strode back into his room and allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. Then he paused, frowned, thought for a moment and began repeating under his breath, "Caliandron...Caliandron...Lord Caliandron...Your Grace, Lord Caliandron..."