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In the beginning, Uther doesn’t notice that much difference in Arthur’s behaviour.
The biggest change is probably that he doesn’t batter the palace servants around on the training field as much. Well, none of them except the scrawny boy Uther had rewarded with the position of manservant to the prince.
(And if his son’s previous servant had been fired a week ago and they were having difficulty finding someone willing to take the job, well, that in no way detracted from the honour of such an appointment.)
Arthur’s a little more polite now too - to the staff especially, but he even seems to get on with Morgana better, which is a miracle in itself. Again, the boy seems not to be included in this subtle change but then, from what Uther’s seen, he gives as good as he gets from Arthur. Which is a bit odd, considering that a few months ago Arthur would have immediately fired a manservant as disrespectful as this one seems to be. But instead, he laughs - a loud, genuine laugh which seems to be far more common now than it had been before.
It’s not until Arthur starts to argue with him that Uther gets worried. Before the boy arrived, Arthur had always been an obedient son, one that Uther had known he could trust to continue his legacy. But now, he disagrees with him. The king doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t for a long time - until, suddenly, he does.
It’s the evening after one of these increasingly frequent arguments has occurred, and Uther begins to wonder if he may have been a little harsh in the things he said to his son. And so he decides to stop by Arthur’s chambers. Not to apologise, exactly. He wouldn’t say that. Just to smooth things over.
He’s about to enter Arthur’s chambers when he hears voices coming from within, drifting through the slightly open door. Voices talking about him.
“I don’t understand why he won’t just listen to me sometimes!” his son says loudly, frustratedly. “He’s always wanted me to learn how to be a good king, and now that I’m trying to do the right thing, he wants me to stop.”
There’s a low murmur in response.
“I know, I know,” Arthur sighs. He sounds tired. “It’s just hard.”
There’s another mutter, and then Arthur laughs, the delighted, almost surprised laugh that Uther can’t help but smile to hear. Ygraine had laughed like that, once.
“You do realise that’s treason, don’t you Merlin?”
It’s the boy that Arthur’s talking to, then. Uther should probably have expected that. He’s about to walk in and interrupt, when some instinct stops him.
The boy - Merlin - speaks again, and Uther hears him for the first time.
“I believe in you, Arthur. And you know, your father probably does too, deep down. Well, very deep down.”
There’s a pause, then Arthur says, so softly Uther has to strain to hear him, “What would I do without you, Merlin?”
Neither of them speak. He’s about to give up on his (completely unintentional) eavesdropping, when he hears some strange noises coming from the room. A thread of suspicion nagging at him and a sense of resignation weighing him down, he peers through the gap in the doorway.
They’re kissing. Passionately, lovingly, and with enough absorption to fail to notice the voyeur of the scene.
Stepping away from the door, he squeezes his eyes shut for a second, and then walks away.
At first, Uther is tempted to take matters into his own hands and finish this nonsense himself. But in the end, he decides against it. Surely this is just a novelty for Arthur, a passing fancy. It won’t be long before he tires of his manservant’s impertinent behaviour, and it will build character for Arthur to be the one to discard the inappropriately… close relationship which has grown between the two.
And in the meantime, it’s good to hear his son laugh.