It’s odd, he thinks, trying to navigate the winter-cold halls toward Gaius room, how the people he sees standing in expressionless attention behind their masters can be so different in the privacy of their rooms. Perhaps something to do with growing up in service, or the years of practice he’s never had serving in the court. He knows they resent him sometimes, for taking a position that should have gone to one of them; apparently, serving a prince is something to be envied. He hadn’t known that.
It’s a secret world there, warmer than the formalities of court, and he’s glad he could go tonight. They might never be friends, but at least they now accept him, and sometimes, he imagines that one day that might be enough.
It takes him three tries to acknowledge he can’t find his key, and ten minutes of knocking before he acknowledges that Gaius’ warning he remember his key or spend the night outside was in earnest. Frowning, Merlin wraps his arms around himself, trying to work out a spell that opens doors and then remembers how the bodice of someone’s dress had come open in his hands and has to take a moment to breathe.
Right, so that’s not going to work.
Author’s Summary: Arthur’s biggest problem to date, Merlin thinks darkly as he carries yet another load of suspiciously not-really-dirty clothing down the stairs, is an unaccountable fear of anyone, anywhere, suspecting he’s capable of being other than a complete and utter prat.
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