The morning was bright and Arthur groaned at the sunlight blazing through his eyelids burning his retinas, awakening his brain, and disrupting his sleep. He could have sworn he closed those damn curtains before he went to sleep, or at the very least Merlin had. He would know, he always peaked from underneath the blankets to see Merlin reach high and accidentally (Arthur always pretended it was on purpose) exposing a strip of lickable skin between the band of his breeches and his raised shirt above his cute rounded ass. He always did, it was the second best part of the night if there were delicious dreams about being pounded into the mattress, and the singular best if not. He turned over, but there was only more light there. Eventually, the young King sat up with a growl. There was a platter cover that reflected the gleam of the sun around the room, lighting his shield and several other things such that the room was suffused with light and the only escape would be to practically smother himself in his pillow. He wondered if that cute assed, skinny little sex-object of a servant of his did it on purpose.

Probably...

He guessed that meant he had to get up then. He didn't do it willingly. Getting out of bed and shuffling over to where his clothes had been laid out for the day, he realized his breakfast was under the cover, the goblet was filled with water, the pitcher set beside it. It was an odd feeling to have everything set-up without fuss and without the usual call of "Good Morning" from the man. He had no doubt that it had been Merlin who had been in the room earlier that morning. There was the tell-tale cleaning that he did every morning that let him know that as he sunk down to eat still waking from his deep sleep. It was a little odd not to see Merlin that early in the morning, but he passed it off as him probably off helping Gaius do something, or running errands. He didn't dare think of why he was a little saddened about not seeing Merlin, but he knew. It only took a few consecutive nights of twisting and turning against the delicious, sensuous heat of dreams to say that he at the very least wanted to bone his servant... though in reality, he'd been the one getting boned and it been a lot more intimate than sex.

Arthur shook his head at the insanity of it all. He though he'd gotten over it, that he'd shoved it down and suppressed it for good. He thought it was all hidden away in that cupboard with the rings and letters that he never returned to viewing. He'd grown cold after that, icy freezing half the time and did everything he could to train his body to react to women the way it should. It worked until Merlin showed up.

When they'd met, everything about Merlin had rubbed him the wrong way. Everything from the stupid cowlick on the top of his head to the tips of his raggedy boots. His attitude and lack of respect had irked him to no end, but there was something else to that he didn't dare admit after they kept meeting and the other eventually saved his life. Those feelings of annoyance shifted into something like care and from there, he wasn't sure if lust or love came next. When it started, he'd panicked and made the mistake of losing himself in some random serving girl's arms. Unfortunately, she'd had dark hair and high cheekbones and he'd practically seen Merlin in her and had enjoyed it thoroughly... He didn't want to think about how much more he could have if it was secretly Merlin dressed up or something. That scared him almost as much as the dreams.

Despite his intents, He hadn't done a very good job of avoiding the other, rather than sending him away to avoid the distraction, he found himself craving Merlin's presence like a drug. More frequently daydreams of them standing side by side, on the throne, ruling over Camelot came to mind and his mind strayed to the box in the back of his wardrobe. The dukedom of Dale had been overrun and reclaimed strictly by Camelot because of the Duke's allegiance... but he had never been found. Arthur had gotten a letter signed "A.N. Dale" but there was only "Be strong." on the inside and no information as to where the sender was. That had been stored away with the last sight of those rings that Arthur swore he would ever see. He did as they asked, to be strong and to rule as he saw fit, as was needed. He didn't need Merlin mucking up the plans as thoroughly as he did, but the man controlled his thoughts.

A shiver ran through him, even though the room was warm. The sight of early frost blanketing the courtyard had made him think. It getting colder now and Yuletide-He'd really have to think of something to get the skinny sex object for Yuletide... It was right around the corner after all and for once he'd like to see his servant looking like his servant and not an errand boy for his stableman. (It wasn't because he liked the idea of buying Merlin clothes and marking him, oh no. Never.) He snorted, knowing that was the exact reason. At least then his imagination wouldn't have to work so hard and maybe he'd get some new fantasies out of the deal and maybe this new rise in homosexual tendencies would die out.

Where is that idiot anyway?

It had happened more and more frequently in the months of odd quiet and non-magical disturbance. It was just his luck that the few moments in which he could kick back and enjoy the day dream of being tied to the bed and screwed into oblivion while Merlin moaned his name was plagued by the other's absence, thus deflating those dreams and giving him the mental space to fight them back into the darkness. When he was alone, there was no need to keep his thoughts decent, his defenses were down and his imagination run amuck. He let it seeing as how it wasn't going to change anything. He was going to do exactly as Camelot needed, and Camelot needed heirs to the throne.

He finished breakfast quickly, getting dressed for training that day while stretching as he headed down the stairs. He caught a glimpse of the knights heading into the armory for their armor without seeing Merlin. As he walked down the steps, he didn't realize that the castle looked a little cleaner than he remembered, the tapestries had been dusted, and a few other things had changed. The floors had been scrubbed but he guessed that was because of Yuletide.

"Guinevere, have you seen Merlin?"

She shook her head, "I haven't seen him all morning..."

He continued to ask around, yet no one had seen his manservant. Maybe he was sick, or off on some herb gathering trip for Gaius and just forgot to mention it to him before leaving... But that wouldn't have explained the food in his room and the set up of light rays. He headed downstairs towards Gaius's chambers, the final stop before he went looking through the Rising Sun.

"Merlin!" Arthur called walking into Gaius' chambers.

The old man looked to see the King standing in the doorway looking a little more than upset. He didn't even want to know what Merlin had done to evade suspicion this time, or what he'd done in general. He didn't really agree with some of Merlin's methods, but being in the stocks and being called an idiot was a lot better than being hanged or burned at the stake, so he didn't think about suggesting anything better. Besides, everyone disregarded Merlin that way, hell he'd started to regard Merlin that was and he knew everything! To the common world, he was just Arthur's lazy servant, despite the fact that Merlin helped everyone and still had his own duties done by nightfall. He wondered if Merlin's art of deception was a good thing or not.

Gaius shook his head at the thought of ethics when his wards life was on the line and took a seat, if Merlin managed as many miracles in once day, with and without magic, you'd think that golden-haired Arthur would at least accomplish one, but apparently the man couldn't even dress himself properly... He stifled a giggle at the mention of his King bent over at the waist, arms outstretched and waiting for Gaius to slip his shirt over his head... He only hoped that it was a mere moment of panic and worry, of needing an assurance... But he didn't think it was...

"Sire, Merlin isn't here..."

"Well, where the bloody hell is he? The drunken lout, he knows the knights are training today!"

"He's...at the Tavern."

Arthur growled. He couldn't deal with this. He would drag that skinny thing back here (without completely abusing his ability to graze fingertips through his hair or over the soft skin at the back of his neck and the tops of his ears) and have him shining the armor of the entire army! And patching chain mail and scrubbing floors all under tedious instruction. He could just imagine the peek-a-boo stripe as he scrubbed floors and chain mail, vanishing and appearing, teasing him without even knowing it. He huffed when he found himself smiling, maybe he was just a glutton for punishment on top of this new found interest in Merlin.

He cleared his throat at the idea and old images of bondage, submission, and Merlin's usually soft and pliant voice, focused and determined to receive his obedience or promising punishment if he- Suck my dick, your Majesty or I'll be sure to whip you harder than you've never whipped me...

He shook his head at the thought, it wasn't new found at all, but rather newly remembered. He'd known for a long time that he wasn't particularly interested women. It only took one mid-fight fantasy for him to realize that, but he'd won the battle and shuffled off away to deal with the issue. From then on, he'd had a mask of attraction towards women, and then another to push that one aside so he could be a good knight, then another as his father insisted on tutoring him in the art of war on magic, then another, and another... Until the Arthur that enjoyed a full month in another kingdom, with another name, tumbling with a Duke, and his guest from another kingdom as his servant and bed-warmer was all but forgotten, buried underneath all the other versions of himself-buried at the back of his wardrobe. He only thought of that month in secret, in the middle of the night when no one was around and no one would be able to hear the groans, the gasps of surprise, and the muffled screams as he brought himself to completion, over and over again, until he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

He did wonder how that man felt when they'd been standing across from each other in his father's throne room upon his visit. If he even cared, considering the social climate that they were in, was not evident. The only thing that Arthur gleaned from his expression was empathy and pity. The Dukes had found him in his quiet retreat at the West Tower. Their eyes met, but neither of them said anything. They shared the space for what felt like minutes but had to be hours. He thought of the peace that was there in that moment, of being with someone who knew and didn't care or didn't judge him and what it felt like to be just Arthur, but nothing father than that in the hours of daylight.

Yet, Merlin... dear, bumbling Merlin had practically tumbled into his life and knocked the real Arthur back into the general spotlight of emotions. He'd found a friend who treated him like a person rather than a title, with no respect for authority, at times wise and at times foolish, but loyal all the same. It didn't take long to realize that what he was feeling for the other was a little more than friendship, and only one dream for him to have something akin to an identity crisis on his hand. He'd been playing the role so long, he almost believed that he was this person, but he couldn't be that all the time, especially not around Merlin. He slipped in and out of his "prat" and "Arthur" phase. When he found himself feeling something that felt too much like freedom, he jumped back and retreated behind the wall. Behind it was safe, cramped, but safe. There was no threat of injury or shame behind the wall of his title, his role as King. There was nothing terrible except the deep, self-destructive loneliness and angst he endured for so long. There was nothing but security in self-loathing.

At least he was older now, out of the hormonal confused teenage stage that followed that month of freedom. No longer rushing off in the middle of the night to seek solitude at the Lake of Avalon, or just in the forest to shed his tears outside of the walls of Camelot. They'd had no place in Camelot.

Nothing had changed, he realized. Except the fact that he was marching through the Lower town to find his servant rather than sacking him for his trip to the Tavern was quick. The long list of chores for Merlin, memories, self-contemplation, and places where Arthur would touch his manservant in the heat of dragging him away that Arthur had conjured up in his mind distracted him from the odd cleanliness of the palace as he walked through it. As he opened the door, the barmaid looked up and bowed her head in respect as he surveyed the tavern. Merlin was nowhere to be found.

He's probably fled to get back to work...

"Are you looking for Sir Gwaine? He hasn't been here all week."

He turned to the barmaid, whom he knew more informally than not since Gwaine had the singular ability to get drunk when he wanted to forget whatever it is that he was thinking. It was happening less and less, or at least in less intensity for reasons that Arthur wasn't privy to.

"No, I'm looking for Merlin."

If Gwaine was in the Tavern, he wouldn't have to look, he would have heard him before walking in. The man was loud and obnoxious even without being drunk. He would have heard Percival telling him that he'd already had too much to drink. Gwaine would ignore them and start flirting with him, it was practically the same thing every time. Bless Percival for being such a patient soul. The woman frowned in confusion.

"Why would you be looking here for him sire?"

It was his turn to frown, "What... do you mean by that?"

"Merlin only comes here... well when you're here or he's here to get Gwaine. He hasn't been here since before Elyan and Percival joined the knights... That's been years hasn't it?"

He felt his anger rise as he marched out of the Tavern and towards the training grounds only to find his knights assembled. So where was his damn servant? Their armor glowing in the sun, chainmail perfectly patched. it wasn't Elyan's doing, he knew that much, nor was it Gwen's work. There was a different feeling to it, it was familiar but he couldn't place it. What the hell was going on? And how is it possible that Merlin had managed to let him believe he was at the Tavern all this time?!

"Where's... Merlin?"

"Oh... I don't know. Haven't seen him since he handed us our armor... He left yours here too."

"Said something about helping Gwen," Lancelot piped up. "He seemed... edgy."

Arthur shook his head, he would have to deal with Merlin later. For now, it was time to train. He wasn't sure what it was about that day, but there was something off. Merlin, edgy? Not at the Tavern? Hadn't been seen there in years? What the hell was that moron doing when Arthur couldn't find him? Did he have a girl or something? Arthur snorted and his hand clenched of its own accord. He doubted that Merlin had the charm to woo a girl to overcome that gangly body and clumsiness of his.

Training ended and they headed to the armory and were almost blinded by the gleam of sunlight of the side of a sword hanging on the wall. From the looks of it, it was freshly sharpened and polished. There was a sound that drew their attention, Merlin scrubbing at a shield with a fierce determination as if the sheer mindlessness and focus required to scrub that shield was all that was keeping him sane. Apparently, he really really wanted to be sane.

He was sitting in his customary position on the floor, his tunic rode up leaving a tiny peak of skin and Arthur wondered if he did it on purpose or if his clothes were just a little too small for him. He'd remember to ask one day. His tunic sleeves were rolled up exposing more skin than Arthur had ever seen at one time that wasn't in Gaius's chambers, splayed out and almost dead. It was a nice change, but a terrible time.

"Merlin, you idiot, where have you been?"

That sounded more like prat! Arthur than anyone else, he almost winced at the sound and some part of him shook his head in shame. If only people knew how much of a coward their brave King Arthur really was... He'd have a full scale revolution on his hands...

Gwaine gawked at the audacity and Lancelot's jaw went tight as he steered the easily riled man away from the scene.

"Cleaning the stables."

Arthur huffed, noticing the dust of mud on his worn out boots, they there were beginning to fall apart, he could practically see Merlin's socks through them. If he wasn't mistaken, his pants had acquired a few more patches than they had a few days before... his hands looked a little more worn with tiny strips of cloth dotted with blood wrapped around his fingers. What had he been doing? Sewing in his sleep?

"And before that?" He pressed.

"Cleaning the leech tank, gathering herbs, delivering medicine, helping Gwen, shining swords, mending clothing, mending chain mail, and retrieving water for the cooks."

Arthur blinked, "Sounds... like you're finally doing your job. You might make a fine servant yet. If you could ever stop being such an impossible mess."

The shield was shining as he put it aside and moved about the room with deft fingers loosening buckles until armor fell into his arms to join the pile of "To be polished". Arthur was last, he had never seen Merlin so... focused on a task. He'd never been that fast at it either. He really didn't like it. It was usually the only time Arthur, the real Arthur, could conjure up fantasies about being undressed for something better than a council meeting or dinner. The only time he could feel Merlin's breath across his neck, though not as hard as it is in his imagination, but he could force fantasy Merlin to kiss his neck and bite down hard for his submission.

Before Arthur realized Merlin was back on the floor scrubbing away at his armor until it shined. He didn't know why he felt uncomfortable watching Merlin work, but he felt it and he didn't like it. No, he definitely hated it. It made his stomach turn as if there was something immensely wrong with the other. He looked on the edge of insanity, or tears, or something... something terrible that would probably turn his entire world upside down.

Gwaine winced, "You... have you eaten yet Merlin?"

"No," was the reply and they weren't sure what to make of Merlin's expression.

The knights filed out before Arthur began his questioning.

"You haven't been at the Tavern... in years Merlin?"

He didn't stop scrubbing, switching places on the armor. If he just kept moving he could handle it, he could handle it until he could leave the castle, leave the city, and rush into a desolate spot in the forest where he could feel like he belonged for a moment, to just release the pressure that was building up on him. Maybe he could make it to the Lake of Avalon away from here. Away, away, away and be free. Feeling that power coursing through him, being put to use, he could only imagine the feeling now that it had been so long...

You could do it now, a part of him whispered. What could they do to you if you did? You could leave. Is this all really worth it? Did destiny say anything about having to deal with this?

He shoved that voice aside and kept scrubbing. It wouldn't be long. His magic was getting angry with him, threatening to burst out of him if he ever had a moment of not doing anything. If one part of him stood still for too long, there would be sparks. He felt it cramping inside him, boiling, rolling through his blood he was sure that he was running a fever. That second voice was only the beginning. When it had started a few weeks prior he'd been startled until he realized that it was less of a voice than his magic relating his own emotions, latent emotions, hidden things that he didn't have time to deal with right then, or at all if he meant not to be burned on the stake for some various crime.

"Merlin, can you hear me? Are you listening to me? What have you been doing all day?"

"My job," he replied.

A part of him laughed, his magic did. His job? His job as a lowly servant to one of the most insufferable, sexiest, prats in the history, putting his life on the line for this and knowing that if anyone ever knew how the once and future King had ever escaped as much as he did, he would be burned at the stake. His job to bear the wound and the scars, the pain and the insanity, to bottle up a part of him that was more instinctual than breathing.

My job sucks...and destiny bites the big one...

The armor hummed beneath his fingertips, the room pulsed flat boards calling to him for something, tugging. It appreciated his constant diligence. At least someone did. The stones were screaming praise for cleaning them, the swords gleamed with thanks for shining, and the air... He swallowed hard and continued scrubbing, he needed to think, he couldn't think about the air lest he start a gale force wind in the room. He switched to Percival's armor, it was a bit dented and probably had to be taken to the blacksmith if he couldn't do it himself.

You could fix it now...

He shoved that thought away scrubbed so he could see the real damage. It was more dirt than dent, a few gentle and focused hits with the hammer and it was back to normal.

"I'll have you in the stocks if you don't stop that and tell me what's going on."

Merlin looked up at him, shining away not looking. His eyes were narrowed so Arthur could barely make out their color, but it wasn't a glare. Nothing, his eyes were focused, his face was tense, but it wasn't a glare. He just got Merlin's attention while his body kept at its job driven by some other force that seemed to be giving Merlin some trouble. If Arthur was wrong, which he hoped he was, Merlin looked absolutely exhausted and pained. His face flushed red with exertion, but he wasn't breathing hard, his breath came out slow and almost meditative as if he was focused on each molecule entering and exiting his lungs. His eyes looked a little dark but he couldn't really be sure. All in all, there was just something wrong.

"I am being a servant. That's all. If you set your boots next to the others I'll get to them as well."

Arthur huffed, "Fine. Shine the rest of the army's boots and armor, sharpen the blades, oil the cross bows, daggers and the rest, and scrub the floors."

"I did that this morning."

Arthur pretended not to hear that as he left. How long had Merlin been up anyway? He went to his quarters without so much of a word. Merlin was acting strange and the strangeness didn't stop. If anything, it was only getting worse. Merlin woke him up dutifully, humorlessly. He didn't stand still, he didn't seem to be capable of it, still jittery and on edge. There was no humming, nothing but boots moving across hardwood floors. Watching Merlin work was tiring. He winced at the tendon standing in his neck and Gwaine made an astute observation after the next day's practice.

"I feel like I should save my armor from Merlin..."

Percival nodded and Arthur was only more confused, yet he did agree. So he stopped Guinevere in the hallway one day.

"Do you know what's wrong with Merlin?"

"What do you mean? Why don't you ask him?"

"Surely you've seen him,... he's working."

"Merlin always works, I don't understand."

"No... No... you... look at this."

Arthur pulled her to the window to look out below. Merlin went speed walking past carrying a pile of bedding that looked suspiciously like the bedding she had been on her way to retrieve from the line. He vanished into the castle and Arthur looked at her confused face pointedly.

"You see, this isn't normal," Arthur said.

"Maybe he has something on his mind... though... I could have sworn I saw him in the stables this morning. How did he know about the laundry?"

Arthur growled. This was getting to be more difficult than he first thought. But he walked back inside and found himself watching Merlin work as he ate. He seemed to never be in one place for very long. He'd brought in Arthur's lunch, poured him a glass of water and carried the pitcher with him as he went around straightening the room. He didn't trip, he didn't stumble, moving with a sort of determined grace. Something was different he couldn't place it but he knew it was there. Too much attention, too quiet, too tense... Merlin almost knocked over a goblet, yet caught it without a hesitation, without flinching and continuing on.

Arthur ate slowly watching him find things to keep himself busy, his eyes were trained on him as Merlin to up a position at the end of the table, standing. He was gripping the pitched of water too tight, his knuckles were paler than the rest of him. Legs locked and staring into the distance in conversation. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face over high cheekbones and Arthur continued to eat slowly watching his eyes flicker and eyes closed and the trembling began at his knees, coursing up.

"Do you have to use the bathroom, Merlin?"

"Not particularly, sire."

The words were cut short and the trembling stopped,

"Then stop fidgeting, you're the worst servant I've ever had."

"Then sack me," came as a reply too quick for Arthur to comprehend.

But he looked up. He didn't want to think about why Merlin had an expression somewhere in between pain and utter focus. He didn't want to contemplate the twinge in his heart when Merlin had said those words. He never intended to sack Merlin, he'd never intended to. At once it was out of spite, but it slowly became because he liked having Merlin around to remind him that he was a human being.

And...

He shoved that thought away before he spoke, "Don't be silly, so I can get an even worse servant that you?"

Smooth Arthur...real smooth...he swore he was such a prat sometimes...

"In your opinion."Arthur set down the tomato he'd been rolling in his fingers.

"Is there something you'd like to say? "

"Nothing, Sire."

Arthur sighed finishing before getting up to go to his desk. Merlin was on the dishes, whisking them away and vanishing out the door. The oddness didn't stop there, of course not. That night, he didn't even have to yell for Merlin to bring him bath water, it had been perfectly hot when he arrived and sunk in. The other was nowhere to be seen. He'd have to actually talk to Merlin, it would seem as the other just wouldn't tell him about it at all.

Merlin ran fast, he didn't have much time if he meant to be back before Gaius noticed. Happy that they'd run out of some nameless herb, he'd taken it upon himself to go and retrieve some. It was getting dark, but he didn't heed Gaius' warning, it didn't matter as he raced out of the palace gates and into the forest to find them. When he was beyond the trees he only found one and focused to make a plethora grow, that was all he could do and he could feel it reeling down, just enough for him not to be dizzy. Just enough for it not to be pulsing at the back of his eyes threatening to shoot out. It had never been this bad before, but that was because there was always something happening. Always some magical force coming at them that required Merlin to use his own. There had always been something, but of course there was this moment of peace, Merlin hadn't been prepared for it. He hadn't been ready for it at all. It wouldn't have been so bad but for some reason it was only getting worse. Maybe it was because he was getting older? He didn't know, but there was too much of it to be kept inside, he was too small of a container and he feared that he would pop more than anything.

So he fell forward, hands in the earth and let go for a moment, feeling the grass sprout beneath his fingers curling up his wrists and around in a trail of Lilies leading towards the Lake of Avalon. He couldn't go there tonight, but it branched out, awakening things that were dead, things that were barely alive, strengthening the trees. He felt the world around him and stood as the darkness was almost impenetrable. He had to get back otherwise Gaius would begin to worry. He came in depositing the collection of a multitude of herb on the table before beginning to separate them into their vials. Gaius seemed shocked at the amount but did not question it.

"Come eat," he said. "You're looking more and more thin by the day."

He nodded a little bit, forcing down the chicken and bread down his throat and breathing easy. He could relax for a moment, not by much, but just for a moment he could relax.

Morgana sat waiting, patience had never been her strength, but for this she could wait and gather her power. She'd seen the error of her ways before, rushing in without knowing who Emrys was and being thwarted at every turn. She had been foolish and angry, power mad, but things were different now, much different. All she had to do was wait. If Emrys was as powerful as the Druids believed, then he would burst eventually. There need be no more sieges, no more magic threats... she had the entire magical community behind her this time to take back Camelot from the Pendragon name. All they had to do was wait, train, and be ready from the moment that he was caught. It wouldn't take long."And you're sure that this Emrys will be forced out?""Yes, for the Emrys the use of magic is more instinctual than breathing, he will have to reveal himself either by choice or by accident eventually..."

"How soon?""

"Depending on his age... I would say a few months."

Morgana smiled, she could wait a few months, testing her powers and resting for the final campaign if that is all it took. She only wished that Mordred was here for this rather than in that damned armor under Arthur's eye. He would have enjoyed this just as much as she did...