This has not been beta'ed. I dumped a load on VHunter07 a couple of days ago, and it seemed just mean to send even more. So all of the mistakes are mine :)

Readers of DDBK, a new chapter has been written, and is currently being made legible by said beta. It should be out soon.

As with all my stories these days, this is a little bit dark. I'm sorry. I don't know what's gotten into me.

Set after the end of season four.

..

Merlin knew that he should be happy. Camelot was theirs, and Morgana was gone - for now at least. Agravaine's treachery had been revealed. Two of his best friends were happily married. The rest of his friends were finally where they wanted to be. He should be thrilled.

But he wasn't.

He almost felt guilty, but he just couldn't help it. It seemed that recently, everything he had spent the last few years trying to achieve was arriving, and yes it was a good thing, but it also meant that he wasn't really needed any more. Maybe it was petty, but he felt a little hard done by; out of place.

It was in the small things, he decided. The way that the knights would spend an evening in the tavern together, and not invite him. The way that Gaius spent more of his free time poring over ancient tomes than with his ward. And then there was Arthur.

The easy, effortless friendship he had shared with the king seemed to have grown into a struggle, and Merlin seemed to be the only one fighting. The whole ordeal was like pushing boulders up a mountain.

'Maybe it's nothing. I'm tired. Maybe it'll look better in the morning,' he told himself, only it never did. It seemed just as dark in the dawn light as it ever had.

He had first noticed it only a few days after the wedding, when he had spent several days barely seeing Arthur, too busy rushing around. He accepted that things would need to adjust – the whole world seemed to descend into complete chaos now that there was a new queen and head of the household - he even welcomed the chance for a bit of a break but that had been weeks ago.

Merlin had known that after retaking Camelot Arthur was going to need more support to bounce back, and always made sure that he kept a close eye on his king. He figured that if he needed to talk, he would. He always had in the past. But this time it was different: he went to Gwen.

It made sense of course, she was his wife. The person he had vowed to be with. Merlin knew just how much he loved her, and how lucky he felt to have gotten her back. And so he did what he always did: put a smile on his face and told the world nothing was wrong. He tried to pretend that he didn't feel replaced.

..

'It's late Merlin. You need to go to sleep.' He'd said this to himself several times for the last few hours, but even now, as dawn reached eagerly for the horizon, he remained where he was. His legs were dangling off the battlements, a long drop below him. He wasn't scared. He'd faced too many horrors and threats to worry about the dangers of sitting on the edge of the castle wall.

He wasn't really sure what kept him there, until he was so cold he was shaking. The tremors had subsided slightly now, his body too out of energy to do anything further to warm himself up. He just didn't want to go back to his box-like room, curl up on his too small bed and face another restless night. Going home would only disturb Gaius and whether he was petty or not, he was still Merlin enough to want to limit his suffering to himself. No need for his guardian to worry.

It was one of the reasons he had made sure that Arthur didn't notice any change. It wasn't too hard; though his perception was growing, the king was still ridiculously oblivious sometimes. Arthur was happy. Guinevere was so in love she was glowing. Who was he to try and encroach on that?

'So what happens now?' Something else that had been nagging at him. Arthur was king with Gwen as his queen, Camelot was safe and the 'future' he had always hoped for should be on the horizon. Did he just tell his friend, his best friend, that he had been lying all these years? Good cause or not, Merlin wasn't sure that he would ever be forgiven for what he had done. What he was.

The sun graced the horizon, the warm gold flooding across the sky and lighting up the landscape.

'Time to go to work, Merlin.' With a sigh of the world weary, he swung his legs back over the wall and dropped onto the stone floor. Stumbling only slightly, he headed for Arthur's chambers.

..

"You're early?" Arthur asked him in surprise as he watched his manservant moving around the room, subconsciously tidying as he went.

"Do you want me to come back later?" Merlin shot back, trying his best to look innocent. All he got for his trouble was a goblet thrown at his head that he ducked with the reactions of someone long since used to it. With a fond smile, the servant collected the offending crockery.

The lack of real reaction from the young warlock was obviously irritating the king, who looked suspiciously like he was plotting something. But Arthur clambered out of bed and towards his breakfast without making another attempt to provoke Merlin, who felt himself relaxing slightly into the familiarity of this role.

"You look tired," the king observed and Merlin's comfort vanished again. His muscles tensed. "Been out drinking with Gwaine again?"

"That was one time. And I promised that I'd never do it again." He shuddered at the memory of the hangover. He hadn't been able to stand up at all the following day; Arthur had not seen the amusement that the eternally drunk knight had in the whole situation.

"Hmm," was the king's distrustful response, watching the warlock work for a moment before being distracted by a knock at the door. His wife swept into the room with the grace of the queen she was, smiling warmly at Merlin before walking to Arthur's desk. He rose to greet her, relishing the feel of her within the strong band of his arms. Kissing her gently, he heard Merlin chuckle and he looked up, chagrined. "Don't you have work to do?" He shot towards him with faux irritation. In reality, he was long since used to Merlin's mocking; most of the time he found it actually amused him. Before the dark haired boy had appeared in his life, no one had ever spoken to him like that.

Merlin, for his part, did his best not to flinch. More and more often these days, encounters with his friend ended with him being sent away to do meaningless chores just to keep him occupied. He'd prefer to just be sent to Gaius, so he could at least get something productive done. Maybe he'd feel less discarded that way. Regardless, he wasn't going to call the king out on it, so he dipped into a small bow, and forced a cheeky grin onto his face.

"Sire," he said, snatching up the washing and stumbling to the door. He wondered briefly if Gwen would say anything in his defence, but she stayed silent, and the warlock left the room with his heart in his boots.

..

"What's wrong with you then?" Merlin looked up in surprise at the chirpy voice, coming face to face with a grinning Gwaine. For half a second he just stared at him blankly, then he grinned wickedly up at him. A sword was balanced precariously in his lap as he ran a whetstone over the blade, trying desperately to get through as many weapons as possible.

Gregory, the armourer, had had to take a few days off as his wife was gravely ill. Almost all the servants had willingly come to the kind man's aid, dividing his chores amongst themselves as best they could to fit in with their other duties. Merlin had been given the task of taking care of Arthur's, Percival's and Leon's weapons and armour, as well as his fair share of guard's swords. He was glad to help, but with having to chase after Arthur and aiding Gaius where he could, he was stretched thin.

"Don't suppose you'd give me a hand?" He asked his friend. Normally, he'd never ask, but he was behind today. The knight dropped next to him, grabbing a sword and beginning to sharpen it.

"Always time for you, mate," Gwaine told him honestly with a smile. Merlin couldn't help but grin back, warmth flooding his chest.

"Haven't seen you around in a while. What's Arthur got you doing?" It was the first conversation Merlin could think of that would draw attention away from the way the knight was watching him with hawk eyes.

"Oh, this and that. Patrols. Lots of patrols." The servant laughed at Gwaine's eye roll. "We need another disaster. It's getting dull," he observed sarcastically.

"I could get used to it," the warlock replied with a grin.

"Nah, you'd get bored. Admit it, you like drama," Gwaine rocked into his shoulder, nudging him sideways. He laughed with the knight, appreciating this strange reprieve from his musings.

They sat like that for well over an hour, working quickly with deft hands, talking and laughing and feeling alive for the first time in weeks. Merlin felt like a massive weight had been lifted from his shoulder – however temporarily – and for a time, the world was glowing again. He didn't need to worry about anything, there in their little bubble of companionship.

Of course it had to be broken at some stage.

"Where the hell have you been?" Merlin looked up startled, only to see the king looming over the pair of them, a look of complete fury plastered on his face. To the warlock's surprise though, it wasn't directed at him; it was all aimed at the cringing knight beside him. Confused, Merlin glanced between the two, trying to catch up on what he was missing.

"Well, it's a funny story really..." The knight edged, fixing one of his most disarming grins on his face. Arthur scoffed, looking very much like he wanted to hit him.

"I asked for one day. Not even that! I asked you to turn up for one hour!" The king was pacing now, his arms gesturing wildly. A recollection of Arthur informing him of an important meeting sprung into Merlin's mind, and he began to fill in the blanks.

"It was only one meeting Princess. I'm sure it'll all work out," Gwaine refused to be worried. The king, thoroughly enraged now, turned on his servant.

"And you! Didn't you think to mention to him that he had places to be?" Merlin just gaped at him stupidly for a second, trying to work out just how this was his fault. Of course, it was: he had asked Gwaine for his help. But Arthur didn't know that.

"Back off Princess, it wasn't his fault," Gwaine jumped in to defend his friend. Merlin shook his head almost imperceptibly in his direction; the knight was in enough trouble as it was.

"Silence Gwaine!" Arthur screeched, beyond furious. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to explain to the council why I ever thought it was a good idea to knight a group of commoners? And how difficult it is to continue to justify my actions when you refuse to do as you're asked?" Merlin knew this was true, he'd witnessed some of these arguments himself. Gwaine wisely shut his mouth, seemingly realising how close to the edge his king was. "Go to the training fields and meet up with Leon. You're to go on patrol."

"It wasn't Merlin's fault," Gwaine warned again, before striding out the room. He knew he'd get angry if he stayed, and he'd realised long ago that punching the king of Camelot was a bad idea**.

The warlock gulped slightly, feeling his heart rate rising. God, if he had to cope with any more stress, he was going to turn prematurely grey.

"You knew about the meeting today, didn't you?" Arthur seemed determined to try and go through this calmly. Merlin idly wondered how long that would last. His king was stressed. He knew this. But still, was this not just a little unfair?

"I'd forgotten about it until now," he told him honestly. "You said that I didn't need to attend."

"And you're aware that as my manservant, you are supposed to remember these things, whether you are required to come or not?" The calm demeanour was evaporating before Merlin's eyes. He scrabbled for an excuse.

"Arthur, I -" He was cut off.

"And you also know, that as a knight, it is in no way Gwaine's job to help you -" he jabbed a finger at the warlock "- do your job?" Merlin couldn't help but flinch at the acid comment. It was just a back-handed way of telling him that Gwaine was of higher rank, was more important and that the warlock was only a servant. An insignificant, replaceable servant. If you had asked Merlin at that very moment if his great destiny was worth it, he wouldn't have been sure of the answer.

"Well?" Arthur demanded, spitting the word out when Merlin didn't answer. The king was too angry at that moment to realise he was being unfair. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was trying to remind himself that he was really mad at the stuffy Lord Beaumont, who had taken it upon himself to lecture the king on why he could never live up to his father's reputation. But for now, he was just too angry to focus properly.

Merlin dropped his eyes to the floor, carefully putting the sword he had been sharpening on the bench next to him.

"Forgive me, my lord," he said quietly, slipping into the role of the perfect servant. The king growled wordlessly, storming out of the room and leaving a slightly bewildered Merlin to finish his chores in peace.

..

It was late into the evening when Merlin appeared in Arthur' chambers, struggling to balance the king's dinner with one hand. He deposited the meal onto the table without a word and automatically began to tidy. Arthur, who was stood by the window watching him, was entirely ignored. Over the course of the day, the warlock had considered the scene in the armoury, and decided that he wasn't alright with it.

'I didn't do anything wrong. I was spending time with a friend. I mean, god knows Arthur has no time for me anymore, and I was starting to crave some conversation that wasn't Gaius.' With that argument in mind, the dark haired young man kept his head down as he went about his work, not saying a word. He was vaguely aware of the king moving to the table and sitting down to eat.

The silence stretched uncomfortably until Merlin realised that there were no more jobs to keep his hands occupied. He glanced about the room nervously, before turning to his king. Arthur was watching him, with a vaguely smug smile on his face, seemingly aware of his manservant's position.

"Merlin," he started, but then he was cut off abruptly.

"If that will be all sire?" The king felt his annoyance rise at how much of a girl Merlin could be sometimes.

"Actually, it won't." He kicked out a chair on the other side of the table. "Sit." Merlin stared at the seat like it had personally wronged him for a moment, searching for the trap. Then, realising he had no real option, he carefully sat down. His bright blue eyes were darting around the room, still not sure what to make of this.

"Merlin, I think that we need to talk." The warlock gulped. "Or more that I need to talk and I need you to listen. What I said today was... unfair." Merlin's eyes snapped to Arthur's face, his brow furrowing in confusion. His friend could do many things well; admitting his mistakes was not one of them. "Gwaine's lack of discretion was not your fault. I should not have blamed you for it."

'Just say sorry you prat,' Merlin thought to himself, struggling to keep the smile off his face. Arthur was completely forgiven by this stage; the warlock had never been able to stay mad at someone once they admitted that they were in the wrong. Regret was a strong force, and Merlin had never felt the need to add more heartbreak to a situation.

"No you shouldn't," he said aloud, watching Arthur flinch slightly at the harsh tone. He softened his voice. "But I understand why you did. You were angry; I heard about Lord Beaumont. I know he's even more of a prat than you are-" Arthur couldn't help but grin, "-but still. Arthur, you need to learn which battles to fight. You can't go around thinking you can fix the world with a sword and your smile. Anything worth fighting for is going to be hard. Shouting me and Gwaine into next week isn't going to help, even though it seems like an easy way out."

Merlin watched with satisfaction as understanding softened the king's face, but he wasn't done yet.

"Whatever anyone tells you Arthur, you are, and shall forever be, a good king to the people of your kingdom. They love you, and not because you are your father's son. But because of what you have done. You rode out against a dragon for them, fought two immortal armies, defeated Helios and his army with only a few men!"

"You did those things too," Arthur pointed out, mildly bemused at the realisation that for however much he could be a coward, Merlin was one of the bravest men he knew.

"I'm a servant. I follow my king. I need no glory for doing my duty," Merlin put in modestly. "And even beyond that Arthur, you've given them the queen that the people deserve. I mean sure, it took a while, and it was a bit touch and go every now and then-" they both chuckled slightly "-but Gwen is what the people need. You are the king of Camelot – the one we've all been waiting for. And personally, I think the wait was worth it." Merlin rose smoothly from his seat, fighting not to laugh at Arthur's expression. The king was staring at him like he had never seen him before, combined with a look that could almost be described as reverence.

"Merlin?" He said after a moment, blinking rapidly to try and restore balance to his universe.

"Yes sire?"

"Am I ever going to understand you?"

"What fun would that be?"

"...You may have a point." The king sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, about before. I didn't mean it."

"I know. You're already forgiven." Arthur noticeably relaxed, and Merlin felt compelled to tack on: "Prat." The king grinned, but then offered a genuine smile.

"One day, I'll work out whether you're truly wise or not. This switching between advisor and fool is dizzying to say the least."

"Well, try not to think too hard. I know how hard it is for you." He was quick to dodge the cup that flew towards him. This was safer, this territory; the gentle mocking and arguing. It was so much better than deep talks of feelings, broken by occasional bouts of wisdom.

Both the men knew that the incident was forgiven and put behind them. It would probably never be mentioned again by either party. Just as the warlock reached the door, fully intending to go and sleep for a solid eight hours, his friend stopped him.

"Merlin..." He hesitated, dropping his eyes before rallying and looking into the cerulean orbs. "Thank you." His servant smiled knowingly.

"Any time."

..

** I might write this as a bit of a crack!fic if people are interested...

I know everyone was a bit out of character, but I felt like it :) Except maybe Gwaine. Have I mentioned how much I love him? He is marvellous. There may be many more one-shots coming involving a certain drunk knight. If there is one thing that will get me back on track with happier stories, it is Eoin Macken.

I'm not entirely happy with this. If you like it, you might want to save it somewhere, as it may disappear at some stage. Feel free to tell me what you think, I'd love the opinions.

This was mainly just to tell you that I'm not dead. I'm sorry I'm such a rubbish updater. A levels are killing me. I'll try and do better?

As said before, all mistakes are mine, feel free to correct me. Now you can see how horrendous my grammar is without my wonderful beta.