A King with No Title

I have to work

"Merlin, for God's sake wake up." Merlin hears Arthur yelling from the end of his bed.

"Oh bugger off, you prat." Merlin yells, with his head buried under his pillow, Arthur's yelling was joined by the bleeping of his phone's alarm. In his frustration, after several moments of trying to hit the stop button on the alarm, he throws his phone across the room.

Although it had not been his intention for it to hit Arthur, the sound of the phone hitting his face did cause great amusement for Merlin. He tried his best not to laugh, but was quick to fail, as he looked up at Arthur with a red mark on his left cheek, he burst into hysterics. How the tables had turned in Camelot, the situation was usually reversed, with Arthur doing the throwing and Merlin being the one to take the impact.

"Merlin, stop laughing and get up. I need food." Arthur states, in an angry tone. Yet his face wasn't keeping up with the facade of anger, as he was smiling uncontrollably watching Merlin laugh at him. "Merlin." He yells, the act fading the more he spoke. Merlin's laughter was contagious, no matter how much he would hate to admit.

"Well I guess considering you have only eaten one meal since returning I will make you one." Merlin sighs and throws back the sheets, his top half bare. "I'll get dressed and be with you in a moment, please can you wait outside."

Arthur fumbled a bit at the request but left the room nevertheless. Merlin was unsure whether it was because he had said please, or because of his current undressed state. Regardless, Merlin threw on a new outfit, jeans and a baggy shirt. He quickly made Arthur some eggs and bacon, taught him how to use the toaster so he could make that for himself. For now, while Merlin had to work, he just needed Arthur to know something simple. Even if this was a lot for him to comprehend If he was being honest, he couldnt wait to show him the hoover, the loud noise and the whirring, he could barely handle the microwave.

"Thank you, Merlin." Arthur says, the words quiet as they leave his lips.

Merlin froze momentarily before continuing to clean. He pretended he didn't hear. The words had been replayed in his head, ever since the day he had held him in his arms, and he died. His death, with these words, was bought to the forefront of Merlins mind. He really did not need that in the morning.

"I have to work. Stay here, I'll be back later." His words were bold and certain, as if he was trying to prove to himself that this was real and not one of the dreams that would turn no doubt to nightmare. After all, he had dreamed of this for centuries and it had never been real. "Later."

He put on his coat and boots, and pulled on his gloves. He didn't want to be cold like he had been the morning before. He exited the house, not looking back to see Arthur stood in the kitchen's doorway watching as he left.

The door closed and Arthur looked at the empty house, it felt familiar, but was all new to him. He walked around the room, he looked at the TV, and the bookcases, the unorganised chaos of the entirety of the living room. He walked up the stairs, toward the room he had found Merlin in. He felt as though he was invading his privacy in some ways, yet he wished to know more.

He left the room, and saw a worn looking door, he opened it to find a small closet, one full of old things, trinkets, swords, armour, his old cape. The one Merlin had given him so long ago, when he had seeked his aid in hiding in the lower town. When he had learned to be humbler. These things had not seen the light of day for years and he couldn't help but wonder why.

He took the old cape It seemed heavier than he had remembered it, and so, he looked closer and realised, Merlin had made sure that it's condition didn't change. The cape had been maintained over years, been kept as a keepsake. After a short while, he went back to the living room and found clothes laid out on the chair arm, clearly Merlin had left them for him.