Author's Note: Somehow I managed to make this Merthur bromance and angsty father son at the same time. I don't know how it happened, but I'm not complaining. One of my favorite things to do is expose the vulnerable side of every character in believable ways, so there's plenty of that here. Oh, and fluff. Let's not forget the fluff.

This takes place after 'The Last Dragonlord,' but before the start of Season 3. As such, Morgana is still missing.

"..You thought you were standing beside me

You were only in my way

You're wrong if you think that I'll be just like you…"

- Just Like You, Three Days Grace

Arthur Pendragon didn't often dine with his father these days. You'd think eating would be a difficult task to skip, but there it was. Arthur would be training with his men, hunting, or some such duty that occupied his attention, and Uther certainly had plenty that kept him busy to the point that many days, both of them just opted to take their meals in their chambers. Therefore it was only a couple of times a week at most when they would come together for the evening meal, just the two of them.

This was one such night. Arthur sat at his father's right, discussing matters of court, but though he gave the appropriate responses where needed, he was only half paying attention. He was eager for today to be over and tomorrow to be here. He felt like a child, waiting for their presents on holiday.

Oh, but this was stupid, wasn't it? He was more excited for Merlin's birthday than he was about his own.

Arthur grinned privately to himself. This would be the first year he'd ever presented his manservant with a gift, and the look on his face was going to be priceless.

It was because of this that when Uther asked him a question, he missed part of what he'd said, and to his embarrassment, Arthur had to ask him to repeat himself.

"I'm sorry, father, I didn't quite catch that."

Uther seemed a bit put off, but let the slip-up slide. He was behaving strangely tonight; closed off, even for Uther. "I was just saying, Arthur, that you seem rather distracted today."

"Perhaps a little. I apologize. I'll try to be more attentive from now on." Breaking eye contact, he reached forward to take a drink out of his goblet. This was why dining with his father could get awkward. They were almost never just a father and his son. He was ever the King of Camelot, and as such, Arthur was always expected to act dignified, as a crown prince should.

"Might that have something to do with whatever you had commissioned for your manservant a few weeks ago?"

Arthur promptly spit out his wine. So much for dignified.

Uther raised an eyebrow, waiting for a response. There was something decidedly disapproving in his gaze, although, he also seemed rather perplexed.

"I noticed a large sum of gold missing from your monthly allowance. At first I thought perhaps you'd had a few too many kegs of mead at the pub, or new clothing tailored or some such, but upon further investigation, I noticed you slipping away to the lower town quite a bit for the past couple of weeks. Then yesterday, you came home with a suspicious looking box under your arm."

Arthur felt himself stiffen under his father's scrutiny. Shit. Well, he hadn't exactly been trying to hide it, but he wasn't eager to share the details with Uther either.

"It also happens that Gaius has requested he be given the evening off tomorrow, so that he may sup with Merlin on his birthday. I've noticed that the two of you get on rather well, and I don't believe in coincidence, Arthur. Explain yourself."

His first instinct was to be mortified. He hated disappointing Uther. The adult part of him, however, balked at his tone. Arthur was sick and tired of his father treating him like he was seven years old. He was a grown man, for God's sake.

"Quite frankly father, I don't see how it's any of your business what I choose to do with my money. I earned that gold. I'll spend it as I see fit," Arthur replied, a bit icily, yet maintaining a certain level of respect. This was still the King he was speaking with. He had to contain himself accordingly.

"When the sole heir of my throne is seen inappropriately consorting with a servant, it becomes exactly my business. I have turned a blind eye thus far, but this is one step too many. I'll have no more of this nonsense, my son. You are not to treat that boy any differently than you would anyone else below your station, is that understood?"

"He has served me faithfully for years now; stuck by me, even on those occasions when I cast him out. He has saved my life, father. More than once, and in case you've forgotten, that's the reason you hired him in the first place. What does his station matter if I feel he should be rewarded for his loyalty?"

"The boy is uncommonly dedicated, I'll give you that. I've nothing against the lad on a personal level, but the fact remains that he is your servant, Arthur. Your servant. Not your friend."

"That's not-"

Uther cut him off, holding a hand up in dismissal. "Let me finish. Do you remember that puppy you hid in your chambers when you were a boy? You seemed to care about it for a time or two. When I discovered him, you begged me not to take your 'friend' away. Then I got rid of it and after a few hours had passed, you never so much as mentioned the mutt again. How is this servant, this Merlin, any different? How would his absence be missed any more than that hound's?"

Condescending. Patronizing. Everything he hated. Arthur swore his vision turned red, he was so furious. "Merlin is not a dog! He's a person, worthy of the same respect as any other citizen of Camelot. "

He wanted to add that he'd cried himself to sleep for days over that stupid dog. That even now, he'd see a stray wandering the streets and almost take it home with him.

He had decided not to (what difference would it make?), when Uther's next words stopped him dead in his tracks. His breath ceased. His blood ran cold.

"He is also a servant, Arthur. He's no better than a dog, and certainly not worthy of more respect than those who actually matter in this world. You should be thankful I decided to discuss this with you at all, because you know as well as I that I could easily have him thrown into the dungeons and leave him to rot for the rest of his miserable days. Perhaps I still should. It might remind those who defy me of where their place is. Beneath our feet. That's what he is, Arthur. Beneath you."

At that moment, something in him snapped: for years, his nerves had been taut just short of snapping and this time, Uther had tightened his grip just a bit too much. Taken just a few too many steps. Gone just a little too far, and it was too damn much for Arthur to bear this time.

He saw his whole life laid out before him: a life spent kissing his father's boots, desperate to be worth something. A life spent holding his tongue and falling over himself to please him. He'd done terrible things just to make Uther proud. Things that still tormented him in his dreams. He saw it all laid out in front of him, and the evidence there made him want to retch.

He hated his father for that. For the monster he'd turned him into. He wanted to break out of this cycle. He wanted to be his own person. He wanted to tell him his opinion no longer mattered.

He wanted to tell him to go to hell.

"Because I was born, yes? Because his life is 'worth less than mine' and 'I should learn to accept' that?" Oh, this was glorious. He was saying these things to his father and he didn't care. He didn't care, and it felt so good.

Arthur laughed, scornful and bitter. Even he had the presence of mind to know when he sounded half mad, but what the hell. If he was, Arthur decided he might rather like this madness.

"It's all very clear to me now, father. Thank you for so graciously pointing that out. One day when I have a son of my own, I'll just tell him he's lonely because no one is worthy of his company. That'll make him feel better. I know it comforted me, all those times when I tucked myself into bed at night."

Uther's eyes flashed with…anger? Remorse? Sadness? He really couldn't say, but it didn't matter. Not anymore. Because Arthur. Didn't. Give. Two. Shits.

Arthur.

Didn't.

Care.

For a moment, Uther was silent. He seemed torn between wanting to choke the life out of Arthur and wanting to comfort him. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his face with his hands in a rare moment of vulnerability. "This is my fault. I've failed you."

Arthur sputtered and threw up his hands, incredulous. "You act as if being kind to my servant is some sort of affliction! For God's sake, father, I'm saying happy birthday, not writing my last will and testament. Is he really so different from us? Are we-"

"Don't start with that again! Like it or not, you are the Crown Prince! The sole heir to the throne of Camelot. Servants can be replaced; men can be bought and sold for a copper a dozen. They know their place. You would do well to learn yours. No one is above the call of duty, my son. Not you and certainly not that worthless boy you seem to value so highly."

"And why is that, my Lord, because that is what you've been told your entire life? Well father, suppose I'm tired of being told how the world should be. Suppose I'm tired of being told what I should and should not believe is right. Suppose I married a commoner, made Merlin an esteemed member of my Court and elevated mere peasants to stand at my side. What then? Why shouldn't I? Why do the circumstances of one's birth automatically determine if they are worthy or unworthy?"

"That is the way it has always been, Arthur. You can't just wave your hands and make all class barriers disappear, no matter how much you might wish to. They are essential in keeping the natural world order. One day you will come to understand that. Where would we be if a mere peasant could become king? If a pauper could be a knight, a noble, a prince? Spout pretty speeches all you like, but the fact of the matter is, the world exists on the assumption that some will be rich and others will be poor. Some will live and others will die. You cannot escape that. No one can."

Uther rose from his place at the head of the table and turned away, attempting to put an end to the argument before he was forced to take authorative action. Arthur, however, would have none of that. Not today.

He didn't care, after all.

"The way the world exists now, no one is able to decide for themselves which they will be! Men should succeed or fail based on their own merits, not the circumstances of their birth. I'm sorry father, but you're wrong. And one day, whether you like it or not, the laws of the land will no longer be up to you, will they?"

Uther's voice was soft, but dangerous as he froze and gazed back at Arthur. "I am going to overlook what you just said, but this is the last time. Do not assume you can undermine my authority whenever the whim strikes you, boy. Tread lightly, or you may well find your new chambers rather cold and damp."

Oh, again with the dungeon. It was always the bloody dungeon, wasn't it? Blah blah dungeon, blah blah insolence, blah blah blah sorcery. He didn't even need to listen. It was always one of the three.

So Arthur talked right over Uther as he stormed away, completely unashamed of the fact that he'd just casually committed treason. Damn him and his dungeons. Let him make good on the threat if he cared so much.

"In conclusion, father, yes, I bought a present for Merlin with gold from the royal treasury. I bought a present for Merlin, and you know what? I hope he loves it. Why? Because he's important to me, even if everyone else thinks he doesn't deserve that. Someday, somehow, I'm going to build a world where he and others like him will be respected for who they are, rather than scorned for who they're not. Someday I'm going to prove you wrong. That's a promise."

The King of Camelot didn't slow his pace or even glance over his shoulder, and the door was slammed shut with so much force, Arthur felt the foundation shake beneath his feet.

He knew he should have felt something. Triumphant. Remorseful. Happy. Sad. Angry. Perhaps one or even all of those, but he didn't. Instead, he felt absolutely nothing. Instead, he felt empty.

If he hadn't been so busy not feeling anything, Arthur might have said he was frightened by that.

He didn't know how long he stood there. He didn't know when he started giggling like a madman. He didn't have the foggiest idea when Merlin had shown up or why Gaius was making him drink bad tasting liquids again, and what the hell was his father doing back in the room and why was he carrying him? Arthur didn't know that either, but he wished the man would make up his bloody mind already.

Things were simpler when Uther just hated him.

He didn't quite understand why he suddenly woke up in his chambers either, especially when he didn't remember going to sleep to begin with. But Merlin was sitting next to his bed, a book in his lap, and he sighed with relief as Arthur stirred. Now that…that was something he could understand. His friend was always with him, no matter what else happened.

Arthur grinned as the giggles threatened to overtake him again. Friend. Friend.

Merlin noticed. He regarded him with amusement, if a bit warily. Arthur thought he looked worried about something. Strange. He wondered why that was. "What's so funny? Care to let me in on this one? I could use a few good laughs myself."

"Merlin, we're friends, are we not?" Arthur asked, voice that of a child.

He seemed taken aback, so much so, he didn't speak for several moments, but when he recovered from his shock, the joy in his eyes touched Arthur so deeply it cleared the fog from his muddled brain. Just a little, anyhow. He didn't want the fog to go away just yet.

"Of course we are, Arthur. What makes you ask such a thing?"

"Father says we aren't. I knew he was wrong though. I told him."

Merlin didn't even skip a beat as he kept talking, gazing fondly at Arthur. "What do parents know anyway? They make bad, well-meaning decisions that screw us up, until one day you're exactly who you didn't want to be and you don't know what to do."

"Exactly!" Arthur paused for a moment, regarding his manservant thoughtfully. "You're my first real friend, Merlin, did you know that? I think I rather like having one."

Merlin smiled. That was nice. You were supposed to want your friends to be happy, right? "I think I do too."

The Prince of Camelot babbled on and on, about everything and nothing, and Merlin stayed with him the whole time. He sat next to him on the bed, giving feedback where needed, but mostly, he just listened. Arthur told him everything he felt for his father. He told him about their quarrel, and what they'd said each other, from start to finish. He told him his strengths and his weaknesses. He told him how insecure he truly was on the inside sometimes. He told him about the puppy Uther had taken away, and dozens of stories besides that Arthur had thought he'd completely blocked from his memory.

Later, Arthur would realize just how much he'd needed this, and he'd be shocked by the things he'd been holding back all these years.

Eventually, the exhausted prince ran out of things to say as the fog finally began to lift from his brain; he felt himself drifting in and out of consciousness, not wanting to face the reality of life just yet. He could hear Merlin prowling around the still darkened room, could feel him as he sat back down on the bed, pressing a cold cloth to Arthur's forehead.

"Merlin?" Arthur murmured, groggily.

"Yes, Arthur?"

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess today. You shouldn't have to see me like this."

He cracked an eye open just in time to see Merlin shake his head, eyes fond, yet somber. "Everyone needs to break down sometimes, Arthur. Even the Once and Future King. Please don't apologize. There's nothing to forgive. This is what friends do for each other."

Gods he was tired. Why was he so tired? "Mhm. Okay. Merlin?"

Merlin's chuckled, his voice filled with mock-frustration. "Yes, your pratiness?"

"Gaius drugged me. Didn't he?"

Now Merlin did laugh, although he tried to keep his voice lowered. "Yes, he gave you something to put you to sleep. You're probably still feeling its effects, but it was just a strong sedative, nothing more. I mean, we had to do something. You were beginning to frighten the palace staff."

Arthur buried his face in his pillow, snuggling deeper into the bedcovers. "I don't know what was so bloody funny. I guess I just…I don't know. I guess I just snapped." Snippets of memory floated in and out of his consciousness. One in particular puzzled him.

"I think…Merlin, did my father carry me here?"

His friend nodded. "He did. Came rushing right into the room shortly after Gaius arrived. He wouldn't say what you'd quarreled about, but I got the impression he was sorry he'd brought it up. Gave me a few funny looks too, come to think of it. Now I understand why."

"Oh, what am I going to do with him?" Arthur groaned, threading his fingers through his hair. Damn it. He didn't want to think about this. Uther was Uther. He was stubborn, he was cold (most of the time) and he was never going to change, so it was pointless to dwell upon the subject. Time to focus on more joyful matters. Like birthday presents.

Arthur grinned.

"Say Merlin, it's a new day, isn't it?"

His friend wasn't thrown off by Arthur's rapid change of topic. Not in the least. They'd known each other for too long. He did, however, seem puzzled by the prince's enthusiasm. "Well the sun hasn't risen yet, but I suppose it is."

"Excellent! Wait right there."

Without another second of warning, Arthur shoved the covers off and quite literally rolled out of bed, nearly smacking his head on a side table in the process. Merlin was so thrown off, he merely sat motionless for another moment before springing to his feet, hovering anxiously as the prince stumbled to a wardrobe in the corner. He was only half paying attention to what was said, but he did catch something along the lines of: 'Arthur, please lay back down before you hurt yourself. Get off that chair, you still have a fever and for God's sake, be careful-'

Sure enough, Arthur retrieved what he was looking for from the top of his wardrobe, miraculously without falling, and eagerly, he led Merlin back to the bed and sat him down, an ornately carved box under his arm.

Almost bashfully, he held out the box to Merlin and the other man took it, eyes shining. With shaking hands, he flipped open the clasps that held it closed, reaching in to unwrap an object swaddled in silk cloth. Truthfully, Arthur felt a little stupid for being so giddy over someone else getting a present, but evidently he was still half-past crazy, because he didn't care overmuch. He just hoped Merlin liked it.

The slight intake of breath when his friend finally had it unwrapped was all the answer he needed.

It was a marble statuette of a dragon, carved by an expert craftsman's hand and designed by Arthur himself. Its wings were spread in preparation of flight; its mouth ajar as if to release a jet of flame. Its talons were curved and one was raised above its chest, ready to strike.

The man had done his work well. Arthur almost thought it could come to life before their eyes. Evidently, Merlin agreed.

"Arthur, I…Gods it looks so real. Are those ruby chips for the eyes? They are, aren't they? No wonder Uther was so furious. This must have cost you a fortune!"

Arthur thought Merlin's face might break, his smile was so wide. He felt his own shape itself in answer. "Consider it a bonus. I've never bought you so much as a drink before so this was long overdue, I think. Do you like it then? I noticed that wooden one you're so fond of. Thought I would add to the collection."

For a moment, Merlin's face seemed to crumple with grief. Had Arthur said something wrong? Before he even had time to think about it, however, it was gone and he was all smiles again. "Do I like it? Do I like it? Arthur, this is beyond words. First you stand up to your father for me, and then you give me this? I don't know what to say. I've never felt so important."

"Happy Birthday, Merlin. You've earned it."

Neither of them noticed the shadowy presence in Arthur's doorway until Uther Pendragon was already striding toward them, dressed in the same simple tunic and trousers he'd worn yesterday. His eyes were shadowed, and they looked more lost than Arthur had seen them in a long time. Clearly he hadn't slept, which had become a somewhat common occurrence since Morgana's disappearance, but Arthur hated seeing him like that, all the same.

At first, Arthur was sure he was there to finish the job. In a moment he would call the guards inside, and they would both be hauled off to the dungeons: him for his insolence, Merlin because he existed.

To his utter shock, Uther did nothing of the sort. Without even a glance in Merlin's direction, he approached Arthur, setting a hand upon his shoulder as if he'd never been angry at all. Now he just looked sad, and in some ways that was far worse than any sort of fury he could have unleashed.

"I don't understand, but I don't have to if it makes you happy."

Pressing a gentle kiss to Arthur's forehead, he left without another word.

The subject was never brought up again.

There we have it :). I'm not sure I'm entirely satisfied with the writing. Ah well. I'll go back and polish it more later, I'm sure. Hope you enjoyed this little piece! Reviews are welcome, good and bad.