Not series 5 compliant. Obviously, after you read it.

Disclaimer: In the demesne of BBC Merlin. Meaning NOT MINE.

"This," Arthur decided, "has gone on for long enough."

He was alone in his room, letting the heat from the fireplace soothe him. It had been a tiring day of entertaining guests, and while Arthur was never opposed to spending time with nobility of his age, at some point in the afternoon, things had taken a turn for the worse.

(I have yet to meet a visiting noble lady who did not, at some point during her stay, turn insane.)

Arthur felt more than ready to yell at someone. Unfortunately, the nobles were not an option and terrorizing unknown servants had lost its flavour years ago. Which left Merlin. However…

"I'm going to grab him by his little neckerchief," he fumed, pacing in front of the fire, "drag him back here and put him in the stocks and make him clean out the stables and polish my armour and wash the floor and finish the laundry and—" he paused. "And clean my boots! Fifty times!"

Arthur reviewed that last punishment in his head and sighed. Talking to himself did not appear to be an intelligent pastime—not that anyone would dare tell their king that.

(More accurately, no one would have the audacity to mock me for it. I'm the king, for God's sake; that should get me some respect around a castle!)

Merlin was the exception. Merlin would, with glee, point out that not only was Arthur a complete and utter clot pole, but also crazy if he was talking to himself. But then again, it was Merlin's fault that Arthur had no one to yell at right now.

Merlin was at the tavern.

So Arthur could do whatever he damn well pleased, including talk to himself about why he was alone in the first place.

Was it too much to ask for a manservant to stick around when needed? Arthur had been in the middle of a crisis, for God's sake, and the man thought that was the perfect time to disappear! Merlin couldn't handle the pressure of running a kingdom, even when it was Arthur who was king. Instead, at the slightest hint of trouble, the man would go and run off.

(And when did Merlin turn into a drunken lout who couldn't handle a little responsibility?)

Merlin used to be better. Yes, he'd go to the tavern occasionally, if at inconvenient times, but it rarely happened and Arthur understood the kingdom's problems could be difficult to cope with for the unaccustomed. He couldn't expect his manservant to handle it all gracefully, especially not Merlin. Arthur would have to replace drinking with a better coping mechanism, one more suitable for the king's manservant.

(Something like embroidery or crocheting. Merlin's practically a girl anyway.)

He ran a hand through his hair. In the corner of his eye, reports on his desk called for his attention. He needed to read through most by tomorrow.

Arthur strolled to his closet, grabbed a cloak, and headed for the town.

It had been weeks since Arthur last snuck out to The Rising Sun in lieu of seeing to his duties. He missed being able to leave at a moment's notice to drink with his knights, something he'd done regularly as the crown prince, even though he needed it more as the king.

(I should have let Morgana take over; she would crack from the pressure and sheer mindlessness of running a Camelot in less than a week.)

He slipped in through the door, the cowl of his hood obscuring his face. The tavern was boisterous as ever, masking his quiet entrance. Kate, the innkeeper's wife, was managing the common room with grace, delivering food to hungry patrons while disengaging fights that threatened to start. Her eldest son manned the bar proper. A handful of ragged kids were curled up in front of the fireplace and entranced in a story Kate's father was spinning from his chair. The entire room would have been picture perfect in its flickering yellow light and absent chatter except for the fact that Merlin wasn't there.

(But Gaius said…)

Arthur weaved his way to the bar where Kate was wiping down mugs. Recognizing the cloak and the stride, she straightened up and discreetly bowed before tucking wisps of her brown hair behind her ear. "Evenin', sire," she beamed. "You've not graced us with your presence a long while. Tonight's not a Round Table night, is it? My thoughts get all confused these days; I guess it's to be expected from an old woman—"

Arthur smiled at Kate's rambling. "You're hardly old, Kate. My knights shouldn't be coming down tonight. However, I was hoping you could help me with something."

"It'd be my honor." She set down the mug she was working on, wiped the palms of her hand on her apron and gestured Arthur over to a relatively secluded corner of the room. "Now, what can I do you for?"

"Have you seen Merlin today?"

Kate raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Merlin? The poor boy, you work him far too hard up in the castle, if you'll pardon me saying so," she said shamelessly. Kate had seen Arthur in a… compromised state enough times that she could take a few liberties with the King. "He never stops by to visit anymore. Haven't seen him in months, God knows why you're looking for him here. But you tell him, you tell Merlin that as soon as he has a spare minute, he's to come straight down here and we'll have a nice long chat and fatten him up. He's too skinny for his own good. What you eat up at that castle of yours—" Arthur let Kate's chatter fall to the back of his mind as he eyed the full tables again.

It made no sense. Gaius had sounded so sure, and it wasn't as if Merlin had ever denied the trips to the tavern before. More importantly, Gaius wouldn't lie to Arthur.

(He must not have known the truth. That also explains why Merlin didn't deny having gone to the tavern before. Merlin could be the one who's been lying!)

Arthur paused for a moment.

(As if.)

Maybe Guinevere knew. If not, Gwaine would be easy to track down. Always in the tav—

God, not Gwaine, too! He scanned the room again, but Arthur knew that if he wasn't hearing Gwaine's raucous drunk laughter by this time in the evening, then Gwaine was somewhere else.

"—and he told me to go to John, you know, the cooper, and I said to John, I said, 'John, you'd be a fool to give up so easily,' and so Merlin sent over some of that wood—"

"Kate?"

Her stream of gossip jerked to a stop. A pale pink tinged her cheeks, suddenly aware that she'd been gabbing at the King of Camelot. "Excuse me your highness, I didn't mean to talk your ear off. Just a habit of mine, I s'pose. Matt, my eldest, has told me time and time again that—"

"When was the last time Gwaine was here?" Arthur interrupted, keeping his exasperation from showing.

"The scoundrel," she said fondly. "Just yesterday. Sir Elyan and Sir Kay had a hard time carrying that one off at the end of the night. You'd think that he'd learn to hold his liquor by now, but every couple of days, it's the same picture."

"So he hasn't come by tonight?"

"No, sire. I think we'd both be hearing him if he had." Shouts for Kate rose from the men in the front. "Hold on, lads. Can't you let an old woman rest her bones?" she yelled back. "Honestly, it's the same every night." Kate shook her head. "Will you be needing anything else, sire? Otherwise, I need to get back to work."

"That'll be all, Kate. Thank you." Kate scurried off to get more food, and Arthur was left trying to figure out his next move.

Arthur should have stopped searching for Merlin ages ago. The king was a busy person and had better things to do than search for a clumsy, insignificant, oaf of a manservant.

(Though the clumsy oaf was proving to be neither clumsy nor oafish as no one's seen him at all today.)

He had asked around, hoping someone had seen something. Gaius knew nothing if he thought Merlin was at tavern. Guinevere had spent the day helping him with their guests. Percival and Elyan at least told him that they'd seen him rushing through the halls all the day, and another servant had said that just after dinner, Merlin had carted off an alarming amount of candles from the storeroom with no explanation.

(Candles?)

None of this told Arthur where the man was, but he was up to something, especially as neither Arthur nor Gaius had assigned him any work that morning.

Arthur sighed. What trouble had his manservant gotten into now? He jogged down to the corridor of Knights' chambers, hoping to some other knights were in their chambers and might know something.

He was in luck. Arthur turned the corner to see Leon pulling his door open, yawning wide. He'd make this quick. "Leon!"

"Sire," Leon greeted sleepily, one hand clutching the door handle as if it was the only thing keeping him upright at the moment.

"Have you seen Merlin at all today?"

Leon settled himself against the door frame. "Not seen, but a while ago, I heard Merlin ask Gwaine for some help in one of the towers," he said.

(I didn't even know Merlin knew where those were. And why Gwaine? He's hardly the most reliable help.)

Arthur shook off his surprise. "Would you know which tower?"

"He didn't say, but you might try the north-eastern turrets. He's been going there a lot lately," Leon suggested blearily.

That was all Arthur needed. "Alright, then. Thank you, Leon. Get a good night's rest; you look worse than Merlin after a round of training." Arthur ducked under Leon's half-hearted shove, laughing as he neared what felt like the end of his search.

From the bottom of the staircase, Arthur could hear dull thumps and screeches floating down to his ears. He padded up the stairs, the noises clearing into voices.

"Ouch," he heard Merlin say.

"You didn't even get hurt!" Gwaine sputtered.

(Finally. I swear, if they've managed to destroy part of the castle…)

He jumped up the last couple of steps and opened his mouth to announce his presence when—

"You dropped her on the floor," Merlin said incredulously. "I'm speaking on her behalf."

Arthur shut his mouth.

"It was just her feet. Speaking of which, why do I get to carry this end of the body?"

"I don't trust you with the other," Merlin said.

"You wound me so, Merlin! What have I done to deserve such cruel words?" cried Gwaine.

"Be careful! You're going to drop her again!"

"Fine, fine. Let's just hurry up and get this over with, okay? I have things to do." They shuffled around and screeches and creaks floated through the door again.

Merlin huffed in annoyance. "It's not my fault Arthur gets into these messes." He heard the snick of hands brushing themselves off. "There we go. Hand me the melted candle wax. Hey, don't spill it; it's hot! You can go crush those herbs for me."

"All of it?" Gwaine said dubiously.

"Whatever I put in the bowl. That's exactly how much we need." There was another clatter and a strangled cry. "Don't drop those either!"

"It's like I'm turning into you," Gwaine muttered.

The only noises that came for the next minute were the crunch of mortar and pestle and some indecipherable murmurs from Merlin. Arthur sneaked a little closer to the open doorway until he could see a sliver into the room.

Lady Nell was lying on a bed of crates; someone (probably Merlin) had draped a blanket over her. Merlin was meticulously pouring wax over strange markings on the ground, mumbling under his breath, while Gwaine mixed something in the bowl Arthur had heard fall earlier.

Merlin straightened up, sliding his bowl onto a table out of sight. "Alright, that should be it. Pour the water into the bowl and mix it. Yeah, that should be good. Now we can move her to the centre of the circle. And don't step on the candlewax." Their feet scuffed the floor as they placed Lady Nell onto whatever Merlin had made with the wax.

"Can't we at least put a pillow under her head?" Gwaine said. "Beautiful ladies should not rest upon the ground so uncomfortably."

Merlin stopped trying to rearrange Lady Nell's limbs to stare at Gwaine. "Didn't she insult your name, your knighthood, and most importantly, your hair?"

"Yes, but now that I know it was a curse, it means she gets another chance, yeah?"

Arthur's eyes widened. He stumbled to the side, pressing his back against the cool, stone walls. (Magic. Merlin's dealing with magic. The idiot! He knows how dangerous it is! Why didn't Merlin tell me she was under a curse? How does he even know magic was involved? And if magic made the curse, then to break it—)

Arthur peeked around the door frame again.

Something was certainly going on. Merlin and Gwaine were spreading the paste over Lady Nell's skin, her forehead, eyelids, pulse points, and wrists. And the paste was hissing. Smoke slid up from where it touched the skin, even as they applied it. The smell was disgusting, too. Burnt and acrid, it filled the staircase where Arthur hid. He swallowed a cough and closed his eyes as he waved the smell away from him.

It suddenly all disappeared.

"Done," Merlin chirped.

"You did not warn me that was going to happen," Gwaine said, scowling.

"And you call Arthur the princess. Clean up, then we'll get her back into her chambers."

Arthur, shaken and off-balance, took that as his cue to leave.

"Last stretch," Merlin panted, shifting Nell to a more comfortable position against his back.

"Merlin," Gwaine said as they approach the door to the Lady's room, "why didn't you just levitate her?"

Merlin jerked to a stop, nearly crushing Nell's body between him and Gwaine.

(I forgot I could do that. Whoops.)

"Um…"

Gwaine rolled his eyes. "Typical. We're here anyway, so open the door, will you?"

Merlin murmured a spell under his breath, and the lock clicked open. He inched open the door with a shoulder, slipped inside quickly, and waited for Gwaine to kick the door shut they gently rushed the body to the bed.

They pushed her to the centre and pulled the blankets and sheets over her. Merlin stepped back to critique their work.

"Does this look normal?" Merlin asked.

Gwaine cast a critical eye at Nell. "Does what look normal?"

"This," Merlin waved at the bed. "Her sleeping."

Gwaine chuckled and clasped his hand on Merlin's shoulder. "We really need to get you out more." He stretched and turned to leave. "Well, it's been fun, but—"

Merlin straightened at the sudden silence, heart sinking. Hopefully whatever cut off Gwaine could be dealt with quickly and quietly before Arthur noticed anything was wrong.

It was unfortunate, then, that he turned to see Arthur, arms crossed and frown deep, standing in front of them.

(This close to a night of no complications. This close!)

"So," Arthur started, deceptively amicable, "what brings you to Lady Ragnelle's room?"

Merlin and Gwaine glanced at each other, a silent conversation that ended with Merlin stepping forward with an unsteady grin. "We just wanted to check up on her," Merlin lied. Badly.

"Let me rephrase that," Arthur said. "Why are you dragging Lady Nell's unconscious body into her room in the middle of the night?"

"It does sound sounds worse when you phrase it like that," Merlin winced.

"Technically, it's not even midnight yet," Gwaine piped in.

The blood drained from Gwaine's face as Arthur turned to glare at him. "I will get to you later," he forced through clenched teeth, pointing to the door. Merlin swallowed his protests as Gwaine slowly backed towards the door, leaving them alone with an ominous thud of a shutting door.

"Well?" Merlin fixed his eyes on the torch flickering behind Arthur, racing to think of what he could tell Arthur. A shiver ran through his body, though whether it was from the chill in the room or his nerves, Merlin couldn't say.

His eyes caught Arthur, before forcefully pulling away to his boots. He heard Arthur take a deep breath. "Alright then. If you won't start talking, I will." He walked towards Merlin, deliberate, circular steps that make Merlin feel on display and anxious. "I have been looking for you since just after sunset, Merlin. It really shouldn't have taken that long, considering that Gaius told me you were at the tavern. Just a quick trip to drag your ungrateful ears back to the castle where you belonged. Imagine my surprise at finding out that not only were you not there, but you hadn't been there for months. Months, Merlin." He stood next to Merlin, facing the bed, shoulder just a foot away. He paused; Merlin could tell it was to recover his composure. "You have been lying to me for months," he said quietly.

Merlin bit his lip, cringing at the words. "Arthur-"

"And the magic?" he continued, resuming his path around Merlin. "You know magic is dangerous, Merlin. Why would you try to deal with magic on your own?" Arthur jerked his head towards Merlin in horror. "Magic's corrupted you, hasn't it? That's why you lied to me and Gaius, there's no other reason someone like you would be deceitful. We have to get you to Gaius," he said, grabbing Merlin's arm to drag them to the physician. "He has to be able to help fix you—"

"I don't need to be fixed!" Merlin said miserably, tugging his arm back to his chest. Arthur swung around with it, facing Merlin directly. "I don't need to be fixed, I'm not corrupted!"

"Then explain to me what is going on—" Arthur said, voice rising with his confusion.

"I'm trying to!" he cried out. Arthur subsided, breathing heavily. Merlin averted his eyes, closing them to calm down. He finally looked back at Arthur's shuttered face. "Arthur, I promise I'm the same as when I first stepped foot in Camelot." (Not a lie. Technically.) "If you'll just listen to me, I can explain."

Merlin stood still as Arthur searched his face for… something. As well as he knew Arthur, there were always moments like this when he was completely alien to him. "Alright," Arthur yielded.

Merlin let himself feel a sliver of relief before pushing it away in favour of some quick thinking. He licked his lips, weight shifting from foot to foot as he tried to figure out where to start, or even what to say. Finally, he decides on, "I wasn't born in Camelot."

Arthur gave him his you're an idiot stare, the one where the left side of his face scrunched up and his face tilted to the right and his mouth gaped the slightest bit. "Well, obviously—"

"Will you let me explain?" Merlin snapped, nerves getting the better of his good nature. Arthur jerked his head in some semblance of a nod, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "I'm from Ealdor. We were close enough to Camelot to be wary of magic, but it's always had its uses here and there." He stopped, hands floundering as he searched for the right words. "It was a bit different for me, though. I grew up knowing more about magic than most of my village." He paused, waiting for Arthur to fill in slightly-misleading blanks for himself.

"Will," he realized. His face fell, likely wondering how he had forgotten the warlock who saved his life so long ago.

Merlin shrugged a shoulder, knowing Arthur would take it for agreement. "So it wasn't difficult for me to recognize the sorcerer trying to kill you, back when we first met, and I became your manservant as a reward for saving your life."

Arthur smiled, lacing his fingers together and resting his chin on them. "God, that was years ago."

Merlin bobbed his head, holding back hope that Arthur was actually listening. "And do you remember why Gaius knows so much about magic?" Arthur's lips pressed thin at the thought of the witch-finder. "So I'm used to magic. I recognize sorcery when I see it and can figure out how to deal with it."

"Magic's still— dangerous," Arthur argued, doubt stilting the protest.

"When you don't know what it can do. I know, Arthur. Why do you think your father went to Gaius for help against magical attacks?" Merlin leaned against the bed as Arthur gave him a hard look. Merlin tried to exude competence for once in his life. Facing Arthur felt so much more difficult that any of the numerous enemies in Camelot's past. "And it's not just that I grew up with it or know from being around Gaius. A lot of sorcery works through potions, similar to the poultices I've had make." Merlin anticipated Arthur's next argument. "It doesn't corrupt, not any more than other sources of power. Are your knights corrupt? Are you?"

Arthur swallowed down his cut-off words. Merlin ran his idle fingers along the smooth silk blanket, waiting for Arthur to speak. He felt a bead of sweat slink down this spine, at odds with his clammy hands. "What happened with Lady Nell?"

Merlin blinked at the sudden change in topic. "I don't know the details, but an Aefrit sort of… exchanged some of her kindness and her personality for beauty. So she got more beautiful, but she also became crueller. I'm not sure whether it was an accident or deliberate, but either way, it was wrong."

"Aefrit?"

"Oh. Um. Magical creature. Not native to Albion. We probably won't deal with one again," Merlin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

(He doesn't need to know I have no idea how or why the Aefrit had come to Albion. Minor details.)

Arthur pushed off against the bed, giving only a passing glance at its occupant. "How many times have you done this?" he asked, pacing in front of Merlin.

"This was the only Aefrit I've—"

"No, I mean this. In general." Arthur stopped and waved his hand in large circles, attempting to describe what he meant. "Curses. Magic. The lot." Seemingly self-conscious of his gestures, he pulled his arms back, crossed tight against his chest.

Merlin reluctantly said, "I don't really know. I stopped keeping track ages ago."

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. "You've been doing this for years," he said, voice flat. Merlin winced and gave Arthur a hesitant nod. "And you didn't say anything every single time?"

"Yes?" he answered uneasily.

Arthur tilted his head at Merlin, brow furrowing. Finally, he sighed and threw his hands into the air. "You are such an idiot Merlin," he said, striding towards the door.

(What kind of answer is that?!)

Merlin panicked, unsure of the state of his immediate future. "Wait, what? Arthur!" he called after him, rocking on his heels while he debated running after his king or giving him space.

"Well, hurry up and do whatever you need to," Arthur said, wheeling back towards Merlin. "I'm sure whatever sleeping draft you gave her won't last forever. Then," he smiled ferociously, "I'm going to take you to the tavern and we'll have a nice, long talk about these 'curses' and encounters with magic you've neglected to inform me of."

Merlin's face twisted into a confused grimace. "So… you're not throwing me in the dungeons."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Are you telling me I should?"

"Ah— no. No!" Merlin stammered.

"Then you're going to have to try harder to get yourself into the stocks." Merlin tried to stop the half-choking, half-gurgling noises escaping from his mouth. "Oh, and by the way, Kate is on the warpath with you for not visiting, so be prepared for a verbal lashing and piles of food. Mountains of food, good conversation with your king—aren't you lucky to be serving me?" Arthur said with saccharine sarcasm as he backed out of the room.

(Prat.)

Merlin sighed and took one last look at Lady Nell. "This is what I get for being a good person," he muttered at her. She mumbled in her sleep, rolling away so her back was towards Merlin.

At the very least, Merlin decided as he slipped out of the room, one good thing would come out of tonight. 'Drunken lout' would be crossed off of Arthur's list of insults.

(Probably.)

A/N: WHY ISN'T "BROMANCE" A GENRE CHOICE ON THIS SITE? Also, STILL SOBBING OVER THE LAST EPISODE.

As always, don't forget to review with all of your ideas, comments, questions, concerns, criticisms, witticisms, and/or limericks!

Edits 9/16/14: Minor grammar fixes.