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Chapter Text

Merlin was attempting to figure out how he was going to balance three plates of food and a pitcher of wine with one hand when the Basilisk was born. 

He was in Arthur's chambers, far from the source of the magic, but he felt it all the same, the sudden wave of nausea and dread and wrong that made the world tilt dizzily before his eyes, and before he knew it, the floor was alarmingly close to his face and Arthur's voice was echoing distantly in his ears, confused and panicked in a way he rarely heard before. 

"- Merlin? Merlin, answer me, what's wrong -" 

So many things were wrong. Merlin gritted his teeth, forcing himself to his feet so abruptly it almost sent him reeling again, and grabbed onto Arthur's wrist for support. 

"Sorry," he gasped out. "Um. I have - um -" 

Arthur's face came into view, blurred and distant. He felt his hair being brushed away from his face, a cool hand pressing to his forehead.

"Are you sick? Where's the guard - send for Gaius immediately -" 

"What?" There's a hissing, echoing around his head, a snake-like noise that he shouldn't be able to hear from all the way up in the King's chambers. "I mean, yes, of course, I'm sick, I want to go to Gaius -" 

Arthur immediately picked up the fact that something was amiss, and caught Merlin's other hand. 

"There's something you're not telling me," he said lowly, and Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but another wave of sickness snatched the words from his mouth, and he staggered, almost falling against the wall. Arthur, his eyes dark with worry, made a small noise of frustration. 

"Never mind - just go to Gaius, get help. Listen to me - do not go outside the castle and do something stupid. Understand?" 

"Of course, Arthur," said Merlin, flashing him an innocent smile, then stumbled hurriedly out of the castle and did something stupid. 

Well. It wasn't entirely stupid, at the time. He hadn't known that it was a Basilisk that had been born, he had just known that some powerful magical entity had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of Camelot and that if he didn't do something now, people would get hurt. He ran through the streets, following the trail of malicious intent and whispered hissing in his ear, and skidded to a halt in front of the butcher's. 

He probably should have knocked first, but malicious magical entities appearing out of nowhere in the middle of the town seemed to justify a mild breaking-in-and-entering, so he politely asked the door to unlock with a thin stream of magic, and ran out into the small patch of grassy land just behind the building, where the hen coops were. For a moment, he didn't see anything wrong. Just a few chickens sitting silently in the grass, a couple of eggs in the straw, and a monstrous looking baby snake with gleaming yellow eyes. 

It took an embarrassingly long time for Merlin to realise the chickens were dead. 

"Oh," he said. 

That hadn't been a good idea either, because the baby snake startled at the noise and whipped around to face him. Merlin had just enough time to recall a passage from a book on monsters he had read once - 

A Basilisk — otherwise known as the King of Serpents — is a bright green snake, which can grow to an enormous size -

and remembered with a swooping feeling of dread that whoever looked directly into a Basilisk's eyes died immediately 

born from a chicken egg hatched beneath a toad 

(well, that explained what the frog was doing in the chicken coop) 

and then everything went dark. 

He woke up with a start, and ended up accidentally headbutting the person who was leaning over him anxiously. 

"Ow," they said simultaneously, and Merlin remembered what happened. In a flurry of panic, he scrambled to his feet, and cursed when his legs promptly gave out. 

"Ow," he said again, and he looked up to see Matthew, the butcher's son, rubbing his forehead and looking at him in a mixture of shock and fear. 

"How - what -" Matthew looked ready to faint. "You were dead -" 

Right, the Basilisk. That explained why he was freezing - dead bodies didn't exactly have the ability to regulate their own temperature. Merlin shook his head, shivering, trying to clear his thoughts. 

"Was I?" he replied mildly. "I don't remember." 

"You weren't breathing," said Matthew hysterically, and Merlin suddenly thought of something that made his heart stop.

"Oh, no. Did - did you tell anyone? About me dying?" Gods, if Arthur had found out -

"I thought you said you didn't die!" Matthew cried. "And no, of course not! What do you think the guards would do if I turned up on the castle steps with your dead body, saying that I just found it in my back garden? They would behead me on the spot! The king would execute me! The servants would tie me to a bunch of horses and rip my body apart!" 

Sagging back against the wall with a sigh, Merlin closed his eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right." 

Matthew looked at him in disbelief. 

Now that he was sure that Arthur wouldn't come crashing through the door with a small army, Merlin began to formulate a plan. 

"It may have caught your attention that there is something rather ... odd, in your chicken coop," he began cautiously. Matthew scoffed. 

"You mean the Basilisk that killed all my chickens and almost killed you? Yeah, I think that's rather out of place." 

Merlin's mind stuttered to a halt. He stared up at Matthew, wide-eyed. 

"How -?" 

Quickly, Matthew hushed him, a cheeky smile playing over his lips. 

"My grandmother," he said. "She lived before the Purge, and she used to tell me about all these magical creatures. Um - you won't tell, will you? I swear I'm not practising sorcery, I just heard about them -" 

"I won't," said Merlin, grinning. "But, uh - you probably shouldn't go around saying that. Just in case." 

"... Right." Matthew cleared his throat, looking towards the garden. "I used a poker and shut it inside the chicken coop. I think, if we go there now and find a way to kill it ..." 

The crow of the rooster is fatal to it, Merlin remembered. That would come in handy, then. Now, where could he get a rooster ...?

Matthew trailed off, and Merlin looked towards the chicken coop. The door was open. 

"Are you sure you locked it?" he said, frowning. The door seemed a bit battered, now that he looked at it, small splinters of wood hanging off the frame. It almost looked as if - 

Matthew went pale. 

"It broke out." 

Arthur had been hanging out with his men, minding his own business, in the knight's quarters, when Merlin burst into the room. 

He hadn't seen Merlin since that morning, when he had suddenly collapsed, and now that he thought about it, it had probably been a little naive of him to assume that Merlin would have listened to him and gone straight to Gaius. Merlin skidded to a halt, red in the face and looking like he'd just run the entire length of the lower town. 

Arthur watched on in utter confusion as Merlin said something he'd never thought he would hear him say in his life.

"Gwaine," he gasped out. "I need a rooster. Stat." 

What? 

Besides him, Gwaine beamed, unfazed, threw back the rest of his drink, and reached underneath his bed and pulled out a wriggling sack of something, tossing it to Merlin. 

"Righty-ho, here you go." 

The sack hit Merlin in the face and almost knocked him over. Arthur watched it all unfold in bewilderment.

Merlin cautiously opened the mouth of the sack, and a cloud of scarlet feathers immediately flew up into his face, accompanied by some very affronted squawking. He coughed, waving the feathers away, and closed the sack hastily. 

"Cheers, Gwaine," he said, a relieved sort of grin on his face. "I'll buy you a drink tomorrow, yeah? And, uh - Arthur, this is sort of a life or death situation, so please don't fire me for this." 

"I'll hold you to that," Gwaine replied cheerfully, going back to his drink like he hadn't just pulled a rooster in a sack from underneath his bed. Merlin waved and sprinted out of the door again, the sack bouncing uncomfortably against his back. Arthur stared. 

"What just happened?" asked Leon, echoing his confusion. 

When Merlin stumbled into his chambers later that evening, jacket askew, the hem of his trousers pecked to shreds, and rooster feathers in his hair, Arthur couldn't even think of anything to say. He heaved a sigh. 

"Did anyone die?" he asked eventually, deciding that it would be a waste of effort to bother to ask for an explanation. Merlin blinked at him dumbly. 

"Um," he said. "Er - no?" 

"That's fine, then," said Arthur, yawning. "Come back to bed. Oh - for goodness' sake, wash up first, why you smell like chickens -?" 

(Needless to say, if anyone noticed the rooster feathers in Arthur's hair the next morning, nobody said anything.)

Chapter Text

Gaius sat Merlin down on the patient's cot, and looked at him seriously for a few long moments in silence. Merlin fidgeted uncomfortably. He hadn't done anything to warrant a scolding, not that he knew of ... there hadn't been any magical enemies he vanquished recently, and he hadn't used magic for his chores (at least, not that Gaius knew of). He cleared his throat hesitantly.

"Um. Did I do something wrong ...?" 

Oh, there it was. Gaius' famous eyebrow of Doom. 

Merlin paled, expecting some sort of horrible, world-shattering news - 

"Merlin," Gaius started, and Merlin tensed. "... why did you confess to Arthur?" 

- oh.

That was it? 

Merlin raised his own eyebrow. "... because I like him?" 

"Like" was probably too weak of a word, but Merlin wasn't going to mention that. Gaius heaved another sigh, placing a hand solemnly on Merlin's shoulder. 

"I just wanted to make sure," he said. "That this isn't some ... misinterpretation of your 'destiny'. I know that dragon always was always a tad too cryptic -" 

Oh. Oh, no. 

"- I understand that he is your friend, but Arthur, despite what he may say, has clearly been besotted with you from the moment you met, and it would be rather cruel of you to try and do this out of purely obligation to destiny -"

Holy goddess -

Merlin shook his head wildly, almost giving himself whiplash. 

"No! Gods, Gaius, no, I would never - you think I did this for the prophecy?" 

Looking relieved, Gaius sat back, patting Merlin on the head. 

"Well, no, but I was just making sure. I've known Arthur since he was a boy, so I do feel rather protective of him too, if I do say so myself. In that case, ah ... good luck?" 

Merlin dreamed about strange things sometimes, but nothing prepared him for falling into a slumber and opening his eyes to see Morgana peering down at him. He yelped, scrambling away as fast as he could. Morgana only crossed her arms and watched on in amusement. 

"So," she started hopefully, while Merlin looked around wildly at the strange-looking dreamscape, "Is there any chance that you confessed to Arthur so that you could manipulate him into weakening his kingdom and making it easier for us to invade and return magic to the land ...?" 

Jaw dropping, Merlin stared at her. "How the fuck did you get in my dream? And also, no, how could you possibly think that?" 

Morgana held up a clear crystal that was glowing dimly, magic seeping out of it in waves. Right. She was a sorceress.

"Dang." She shrugged, pocketing the crystal again. "That's a shame. Have fun courting my brother, I guess. I have a bet going with Morgause, so don't break up for at least four years, yes?" 

"A bet -?" 

Morgana smirked, snapped her fingers, and suddenly Merlin was shooting upright in his bed, heart pounding. 

"What." 

Merlin was out gathering herbs and minding his own business when the bushes rustled and a druid in white robes tumbled out. 

He let out an undignified squeak, dropping the bundle of yarrow. 

"What are you doing here?" 

The druid, unruffled, brushed the twigs off his robes and stood up, bowing and smiling cheerfully. 

"Greetings, Emrys! I am just making sure that you didn't use a love potion or an otherwise amorous enchantment to try and speed up the coming of Albion, because I know you would have meant well with it, you always mean well, but I just think that destiny wouldn't take it very well if you tried to do it like that -" 

Merlin spluttered indignantly. 

"Why does everyone think I'm doing that? No! Is it so hard to believe I may actually like him of my own accord?" 

The druid continued to beam at him. 

Merlin awoke in the middle of the night to a rather loud and incessant tapping on his window. It sounded like a very large bird. Groaning, he burrowed under the covers, hoping to fall back asleep. When the tapping didn't stop (rather, it increased in both frequency and volume), Merlin sighed heavily and stomped over to the window, throwing it open. 

"Shoo," he said blearily, half-asleep. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, and saw -

It definitely wasn't a very large bird. It was a very, very large dragon. 

Merlin's jaw dropped.

"Kilgharrah?" he hissed. "What are you doing here? I ordered you to stay away from Camelot, didn't I?" 

"This is just a recreational trip," the golden dragon said calmly, flapping his wings and bobbing up and down before the window. "I saw that you and Arthur finally got together -" 

"No," said Merlin resolutely, and shut the window. 

Chapter Text

Merlin stared in awe at the spell on the page, excitement bubbling up inside him and threatening to spill over. 

"Oh," he said gleefully, ignoring Gaius' look of horror. "This is going to be so much fun." 

"Merlin, no -" 

"It'll come in handy!" Merlin snatched up the spell book, and ran up the stairs to his room, taking the steps three at a time. "You'll see!" 

Gaius gaped wordlessly at his receding figure, shaking his head. 

"καθρέφτης," Merlin muttered under his breath, staring intensely at the spellbook's pages. The pronunciations were always the hardest to get right - the Old Tongue came easily to him, since the Old Religion flowed through his veins, but it was still a whole other language, and Merlin only had so much time on his hands between chores and saving the kingdom. "καθρέφτης, καθρέφτης, καθρέφτης ..." 

He knew when he got it, the magic suddenly surging up through his body and filling his senses. The air in front of him flickered, rippled, and then - 

Merlin stared in delight at a perfect, mirror-copy of himself standing in front of him. Copy-Merlin stood silently, staring back at him blankly. It was a little strange, having eye-contact with himself. 

"Whoa," he breathed. "This is so weird." 

It was like looking at a painting - except the paintings in the castle were often horribly distorted with age, with the painted figures in awkward positions that looked highly uncomfortable. This painting looked flawless, like a reflection in a still lake or in a mirror. Curiously, Merlin stepped a little closer. He didn't have time to stare at himself in the mirror, and having the chance to see what he looked like ...

Then Merlin no. 2 crossed his arms and glared at him. 

"You think this is weird? You just zapped me into existence without warning! This is weird for me!" 

Merlin-Original froze. 

"Wait," he said hesitantly. "You're ... sentient?" 

Merlin no. 2 rolled his eyes. "I'm you. And if you had read the rest of the page, you would have seen that once you summon a mirror-version of yourself into being, it will only disappear at the next stroke of midnight." 

Merlin-Original paused, paling. "Ah." 

It was only early morning. 

It would be fine, Merlin told himself as he ran through the castle corridors towards Arthur's chambers. He had told Merlin no. 2 to stay inside his room until midnight, and Merlin no. 2 was just as eager not to be caught and executed for sorcery as Merlin Original was, so he said yes. Gaius knew about his ... their? ... plight, and had agreed to make sure nobody went up into Merlin's room and found Merlin no. 2 by accident. (Nobody really went into Merlin's room, anyway, so it shouldn't be a problem.) 

As long as the day passed normally, he should be back to normal by morning. 

Of course, destiny decided that today was a good idea for a fresh assassination attempt. 

"- simple poison won't work for this," a low voice was muttering. Merlin froze, and backtracked as quietly as he could, pressing his ear to the door and squinting through the small crack in the wood. 

"Are you daft?" another voice whispered. "Of course it'll work, the royals always go about thinking nobody's going to dare to try and poison them -" 

So they were planning to try and murder Uther or Arthur. God, what was it with Pendragons? Their bloodline must be a magnet for bad luck and melodramatic assassins with generic backstories. Merlin stifled a sigh, leaning closer to listen. 

"Not this time," the first voice grumbled. "The Prince's manservant - don't tell me you've never heard of him? The boy's apparently completely dedicated. He'll have tasted all the food beforehand." 

Merlin winced. He did, in fact, test Arthur's food for poison whenever he brought it up, though after the first four times he had actually found it and almost died, he had given up and learned a poison-tracing spell. He hadn't thought that other people would know, though ...

"Ugh." There was a shuffling noise, and the sound of pacing. "What then? Poison was the best, it's usually untraceable ... oh! How about -" 

There were footsteps coming down the hallway. Fuck. 

Merlin tugged up a tiny thread of magic and boosted his vision, seeing around the corner and spotting a figure in a simple red tunic, walking down the hallway. Arthur. 

"You have horrible timing," he mumbled under his breath, glancing desperately between the two assassins and Arthur. He couldn't exactly run off and drag Arthur away, because Arthur would definitely start refusing loudly in that stupidly regal voice and alert the entire castle to his whereabouts, and Merlin wouldn't be able to figure out what those two assassins were up to. On the other hand, if he stayed where he was, Arthur would find him, start yelling orders at him anyway, and reveal his location, which might end up in a full-blown fight and it was always so much harder for Merlin to hide his magic when he was busy blasting away a couple of assassins. 

Oh, well. There was only one option left. 

"Drat," he muttered. "καθρέφτης." 

Merlin no. 3 fizzled into existence next to him, and gave him a quick thumbs up. Thank goodness for the fact that all the Merlins shared memories. Merlin sighed, and silently ran off towards Arthur, leaving Merlin no. 3 crouched behind the door, listening in on the assassins' plans. 

Arthur gave him an odd look when Merlin ran past him, dragging him down the corridor away from the scene. 

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" he had said, amused. Merlin shushed him furiously, not speaking until they were completely out of the castle. 

"No reason," he replied breathlessly. Arthur quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing more. 

Merlin no. 3 managed to sneak up to Gaius' rooms an hour later, reporting back to Merlin Original about what the assassins planned to do. It had been a strange sight - three identical Merlins, sitting in a circle on Merlin's bed, discussing assassination plots and magic. In the end, the two assassins had been clumsy enough to only need a minor sabotage on Merlin's part, and they were arrested and sentenced before lunchtime. 

Unfortunately, Arthur decided to celebrate another avoided assassination attempt by giving Merlin even more chores to do, and seeing as they were physically impossible to do before sundown, it was only logical for Merlin to use his two extra clones to his advantage, right? 

Wrong.

Merlin, staggering slightly under the weight of two different sets of armour, bumped into Lancelot in the west wing of the castle. Lancelot  froze, staring at him. 

"Wait," he said, looking at him suspiciously and placing a hand on his sword. "I swear I just saw you in the kitchens like, twenty seconds ago." 

Oops. 

"Um," said Merlin, "So ... I may have done something stupid." 

Lancelot sighed, lowering his weapon. "What did you do now, Merlin?" 

"Don't look at me like that, I had a bad enough scolding from Gaius already ..." 

Luckily, Lancelot covered for him flawlessly and Merlin managed to lug the two sets of armour up to Arthur's chambers and dump them unceremoniously on his bed. 

The guard outside Arthur's door frowned quizzically at him. "Weren't you meant to be out in the forest, gathering herbs? I saw Sir Derek following you when you went outside ..." 

Merlin paled. 

"Uh -" 

Then, miraculously, the guard's face lit up with understanding. 

"Oh," he said, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You did something with your ... didn't you? Don't worry, I'll cover for you. Go and do your thing." 

To illustrate, the guard wiggled his fingers and mimed a small explosion. Merlin stared at him in bafflement. The guard sighed. 

"Magic, Merlin," he said, and Merlin let out an undignified squeak. 

"What? No, that's - that's ridiculous, magic, me? Ha, that's funny, I would never -" 

So, apparently Merlin hadn't been as subtle as he thought. 

I just have to last until midnight, Merlin thought desperately. Midnight, and then Merlin 2 and Merlin 3 will disappear and everything will be alright again. 

Everything was not alright. Since one assassination attempt per day wasn't enough for destiny, Merlin just had to run into a knight who wasn't actually a knight but a mercenary, plotting to kill the king. 

He watched in horror, hidden inside the broom cupboard in the armoury, as the mercenary took out a sword that glowed sickly green with a muttered spell. 

"Today will be Uther's last," the mercenary finished grimly, after helpfully recounting his entire life story and motives to the empty armoury. Personally, Merlin thought the villain monologue was a little unnecessary, but at least he knew that Uther was the target this time, not Arthur. He could probably just get Merlin no. 2 to keep an eye on Arthur throughout the day, while Merlin no. 3 and Merlin Original figured out how to reveal this mercenary and get him arrested. 

Yes. That was a good plan. Everything would work out fine. 

Everything did not work out fine. It was Arthur's fault. 

"Let's go on a hunt today, Merlin!" Arthur had yelled, and Merlin scowled. 

"Do we have to?" 

"That wasn't a question, Merlin. Get my horses ready, will you?" 

Merlin stomped down to the armoury. This certainly put a damper on things. He couldn't very well explain how he was seen saving the king's life, in the castle, when he was meant to be out in the forests with Arthur, hunting. 

"Alright," he said to Merlin no. 2. "Um. You go with Arthur, keep him busy - but make sure to come back before midnight, it'll be awkward if you suddenly disappear into thin air in front of him." 

"Great," mumbled Merlin no. 2. "Sure. Send me out to keep his royal pratness company while he murders innocent animals and makes me skin them. You two have fun saving the kingdom." 

Merlin waved him off, and turned to Merlin no. 3. "Okay, we need to stay here and do something. As much as Uther is a dick, we can't just let him die, so ... how are we meant to reveal the mercenary without being seen?" 

"We can't very well avoid the entire castle," Merlin no. 3 agrees seriously. "Even if the guards and Lancelot cover for us ..." 

"You can hide in the stables," a voice piped up, and Merlin Original and Merlin no. 3 shrieked. A stablehand was peering over the door, chewing on a piece of straw. He didn't seem the slightest bit unruffled at the sight of two identical Merlins. 

"Wha -" 

"You're really not very subtle with your magic," the stablehand added. "Go off and save the king, and we'll hide one of you in the stables with Lebryt. Nobody goes near Lebryt's stable, not even Uther." 

Merlin no. 3 shook his head disbelievingly. 

"Really?" 

The stablehand nodded cheerfully. "Yes. And is there any way of magicking away the horse poo? None of us can get close enough to muck out Lebryt's stables without him trying to bite us." 

Merlin no. 3's face fell, but he went anyway. Merlin Original heaved a sigh of relief. 

"Thank you," he stressed, and the stablehand blushed and waved it off. 

"Oh, no," groaned Merlin. 

It turned out there was two mercenaries, not just one. And they were rapidly approaching the throne room from two opposite directions. He could try and call Merlin no. 3, but he would take too long, and there was absolutely no way that Merlin would be trying that teleportation spell again (it went disastrously last time - he left half of himself behind and was stuck like that for hours until Kilgharrah found him, and the stupid bloody dragon laughed at him for an entire hour before reversing the spell). 

There really was no other option. 

"Someone out there hates me," complained Merlin under his breath, holding out his hand as his eyes flared gold. "καθρέφτης." 

Merlin no. 4 poofed into existence, looking around wildly before honing in on the second mercenary and taking off in his direction. Merlin Original sprinted down the opposite corridor, and there was a wild tussle where knives were thrown and spells casted, before Merlin finally managed to subdue his opponent. Triumphant, Merlin whooped, and looked up. 

Uther stared at him in shock. 

"Oops." Merlin scrambled to his feet, heart thumping rapidly in his chest. "Oh, no. Your Highness. I have a very good explanation -" 

"Sorcery!" Uther bellowed.

Merlin fled. 

It was honestly a miracle how Merlin managed to get through that day. There had been a wild goose chase all over the castle grounds and the lower town, where all the guards pretended that they couldn't see Merlin and the stablehands let loose a dozen horses to add to the chaos. Uther himself ended up running through the castle after Merlin no. 7 or 8, he couldn't remember which. Merlin, in his panic, created new clones at every turn - he created Merlin no. 5 when he ran into a dead end and needed someone to give him a leg up over the garden wall, he made Merlin no. 6 when he accidentally ran into Uther and needed to distract him by running off in two different directions at once, and Merlin no. 12 when he needed to use an excuse to lure the gaggle of nobles away so he could trick Uther into running back into the castle because Arthur and Merlin no. 2 would be returning at any time and it would be hard enough to deal with Uther. 

Merlin no. 27 burst into Gaius' chambers, red-faced and panting. 

"Help," he squeaked. Needless to say, Gaius almost had a heart attack. 

Miraculously, all the Merlins managed to escape and hide by the time Arthur came back. Gaius created a very elaborately detailed story to deliver to Uther. 

"It wasn't Merlin, sire," he explained patiently, while Uther stood in the room, red-faced and sword in hand. "You see, there was, um, a sorcerer who wanted to weaken the kingdom. To do that, he knew that he had to distract you, or you would surely have seen through his plan. I recognise the spell, sire - it ... uh ... takes whoever you last saw and made you see their face wherever you went. You have been chasing stablehands, servants, and knights all over Camelot, but not Merlin. Merlin has been out hunting with your son - you can ask him when he gets back." 

"What of the sorcerer?" Uther demanded. Gaius shrugged helplessly. 

"I heard Sir Lancelot ... chased him out of the kingdom?" 

Lancelot nodded solemnly, and Uther fumed. 

"I hope you learned your lesson, Merlin," Gaius told him sternly, after the king had left. Lancelot sat at the table and gave Merlin a look that was both sympathising and sorry-but-I-agree-with-Gaius. 

"I was just curious," Merlin retaliated, huffing. "It sounded like a cool spell! And, you know, with magic being banned and punishable by execution and all, I couldn't exactly ask for a demonstration ..." 

Shaking his head, Lancelot smiled wryly. "You were lucky that somehow the entire servant and guard population of Camelot knew about your magic. Otherwise even you might not have been able to get out of that." 

Gaius frowned. "Yes. About that ... what was it I said to you, Merlin, about being careful? Because, as you quite rightfully said, magic is banned and punishable by execution here." 

Merlin winced. 

"Sorry?" he tried. 

Neither Gaius nor Lancelot looked very impressed. 

Bonus: 

"I should be the one complaining," complained Merlin to Lancelot later. "What right does Gaius have to scold me about careful? He's the one who yells about magic all day! Do you have any idea how think the castle walls are? It's no wonder all the guards know, it's always Merlin, hide your magic, or Merlin, don't be stupid or Arthur will find out about your magic, and Merlin, your magic is a secret to be kept at all costs - what did he think was going to happen?" 

"Hm," said Lancelot absently. "You have a point." 

Merlin sighed and flopped face-first into the laundry, wondering if he could somehow drown himself in dirty tablecloths. 

Chapter Text

NOTE: This is set basically the day after Merlin's magic reveal!

Arthur was planning to have a lie in the next day - they'd almost died yesterday, so he thought he was entitled to a bit of extra sleep - but naturally, things didn't go to plan, and Merlin burst into his chambers at the crack of dawn. 

"Arthur," he scolded loudly, as the guards at the door peeked into the room to see what would happen. "What did you do?" 

Grumbling, Arthur pulled the covers up over his head and tried to go back to sleep. Merlin dragged him out of bed and tugged him over to the window. 

"Look," he said emphatically, and Arthur rubbed his eyes, stared down at the courtyard, and -

Oh. 

His brain stuttered to a halt, his jaw dropping at the sight of a multicoloured group of armoured men standing in the courtyard and yelling. He recognised the banners as belonging to the various kingdoms surrounding Camelot, and a couple of distant noble houses of his kingdom.  

"What -" 

Merlin seemed to be fighting back a grin. 

"Four kingdoms and sixteen noble houses showed up on our doorstep this morning," he said. "They've been asking to see you since they came. What did you do?" 

"I didn't do anything!" protested Arthur, flailing. Merlin yanked open his wardrobe and started tossing various formal garments at his face, which he barely managed to catch. "I just - is it about the messengers I sent yesterday?" 

"What messengers?" 

"Oh, you know - "There's a bloody big monster in our forest that's larger than our castle and we're probably going to die, so you might want to ready your armies in case if heads over to you next" - the usual?" 

One of the guards snorted, then quickly covered his mouth. Merlin narrowed his eyes. 

"Did you perhaps, by any chance, mention magic?" 

Why would he have mentioned magic, Arthur thought blearily, not realising that he was putting on his tunic backwards. His bed looked very warm and inviting, and it was the crack of dawn ... only Merlin used magic to protect the kingdom and defeat the monster ... 

"Oh," said Arthur, and went red. Merlin buried his face in his hands. 

"It seems to me," said King Badrick solemnly, "That you have utilised magic in your attempt to protect your kingdom." 

Arthur blanched. 

"Um," he said. "Yes? I didn't really utilise it, there was a sorcerer and he fought the monster of his own accord -" 

Across the table, Lord Cleavon leaned forward. 

"It really wouldn't do for a king to break his own laws," he suggested, in a rather unsubtle manner. Arthur tensed - he didn't think that the other kingdoms would have too many problems regarding the use of magic - his father, despite his deeply rooted hatred for all things supernatural, had probably-maybe-definitely used magic to his own advantage before, and the other kings hadn't moved against him then. If anything, he hadn't even been sure that Camelot's neighbours and lords shared Uther's stance on magic - whether they really saw it as a threat, or whether they simply went along with Camelot so they wouldn't anger her king. Lord Cleavon continued - "If I may, sire, I would recommend a slight change in the rules concerning ... magic." 

And if they decided to start a fight over this, Arthur would really be screwed - 

He processed what Lord Cleavon just said.

"What -" 

Lord Alexander nodded, clasping his hands together. "For the sake of people like Merlin, at least. Think of how easily you could protect your people if magic itself was on your side?" 

Arthur floundered. 

"Wait," he said. "I thought - Badrick, didn't my father sign a treaty with you that made magic illegal in both of our kingdoms?" 

King Badrick snorted, waving his hand. 

"Psh. I broke that ages ago." 

Merlin's shoulders shook with silent laughter, almost dropping the wine pitcher. Arthur shot him a confused look, before turning back to the table. 

"Wait," he said again. "You - you have been breaking the treaties -" 

"In all honesty, sire, they were sort of terrible treaties." Badrick didn't look apologetic at all. 

Suddenly, Arthur recalled what Lord Alexander had just said. 

For the sake of people like Merlin ...

"I didn't mention Merlin in my message," he said suspiciously, and Alexander suddenly developed a sudden interest in his wine goblet. "How did you know he had magic ...?" 

Merlin , his eyes going wide. For some reason, every other lord and king at the table studiously avoided Arthur's gaze. Arthur's jaw fell open. 

"You all knew?" he said incredulously. 

One of the kings cleared his throat awkwardly, and hid his face behind his goblet. Arthur stared at them.

"Wow. Okay, then." 

"Sorry," Lord Godric said, not sounding very sorry. Arthur groaned. 

Still, he thought to himself, watching as Merlin chattered away happily to two of the noble lords (the pitcher of wine in his hand forgotten), he really didn't think he could have thought of a better outcome.

Chapter Text

Lesson 1: A King's Emotion

"This is bad," Arthur said glumly, staring at the bedraggled-looking messengers standing before him. "Are you sure they're about to go to war?" 

One of the messengers nodded wearily. "Certain, my lord. King Sadon does not take insults to his honour lightly. The armies are already assembling themselves." 

"Can't you help us, sire?" the other messenger pleaded. "None of us want to go to war over a nobleman's dispute, and the winters have not been kind to us - the king will take more taxes and we barely have enough to go on ..."  

Arthur sighed, and beside him, Merlin leaned forward, opening his mouth to suggest something.

"We can't intervene," Arthur said under his breath, already hating himself for saying it. "Our harvests have been bad, too. We can't risk Sadon trying to declare war on us too." 

Merlin frowned. 

"We can help the people," he insisted. "We have enough grain reserves to spare a few villages worth of food. Even if we don't intervene using our knights -" 

The two messengers looked on in befuddlement, seemingly shocked at the sight of the king discussing political matters with a servant. The guards on either side of them struggled to keep the proud smirks off their faces, and had it been a less dire situation, Arthur would probably have enjoyed the look on their faces. 

"We don't have enough," Arthur replied heavily. The words tasted bitter and heavy on his tongue - he was already trying to think of ways to help them, even indirectly - but state affairs was a delicate business, especially when the opponent was a king as war-happy as Sadon. "If Sadon doesn't declare war, we could help, but you know how quickly war drains resources. Camelot would fall to ruin. I can't risk my own people like that." 

Merlin fell silent, unable to find an answer, and fixed his gaze unhappily on the floor.

"I know King Sadon," he said a while later, thoughtfully. "I could talk to him, maybe, convince him that war isn't the best option ..." 

Oh, no. 

Arthur blanched. 

"No," he replied immediately. "Do not go riding into a war zone to talk with a foreign king. I forbid it." 

"It might work," Merlin argued, looking towards the guards for support. The guards gave him a thumbs-up, and he brightened. "Diplomacy might work best in this situation. Sadon isn't stupid, if we just show him how badly both kingdoms will end up because of a petty fight -" 

One of the messengers spluttered. "Petty fight -?" 

"No," said Arthur again firmly, and Merlin crossed his arms. They glared at each other for a few seconds - Merlin's familiar stubborn wilfulness battling silently against Arthur's kingly exasperated concern - and naturally, Arthur started to waver in a matter of minutes. He slumped in his throne before remembering that he was a king and pulling himself up into a more dignified position. 

"Maybe." 

Merlin changed tactics in a flash, and his stubborn scowl shifted into a pleading look. Arthur crumbled.

"Fine," he grumbled. "Do it your way. But you're taking at least ten guards with you." 

Come back safe.

Arthur pretended not to see Merlin high-fiving the guard next to him before running out of the throne room, the two messengers staring incredulously after him. 

"He left without any guards??" 

"I wouldn't bother, Princess," said Gwaine, appearing out of nowhere and slapping Arthur so hard on the back he almost fell over. "He's probably already halfway out of Camelot already. Sadon would see the guards as a threat, and anyway, it's in Merlin's nature to sneak off and do noble things behind your back, yeah?" 

Arthur sagged. "It's also in his nature to almost die a lot while doing that."

Gwaine guffawed, seeming completely at ease. "I'll tell him you're worried. Merlin can handle himself just fine. He's able to tear holes in space-time to different dimensions, remember?" 

"King Sadon has agreed to withdraw his troops!" the messenger cried, bursting into the throne room without warning several days later. Arthur almost dropped his wine goblet as Merlin stumbled into the throne room after the wild-looking messenger, mud on his shirt, his hair windswept and a wide grin on his face. He looked as if he had run all the way through the lower town and up the castle just to bring the news.

"How on earth did you manage that?" 

Modestly, Merlin cleared his throat, tried unsuccessfully to pat down his hair, and smiled with the air of a professional, experienced politician. "Diplomacy." 

Arthur narrowed his eyes, the worry starting to fade, replaced with amusement. "You started crying and Sadon felt guilty, didn't he?" 

"Um." Merlin averted his gaze. "No?" 

Lesson 2: Trust

Arthur was starting to forget what it felt like not to have a headache these days. 

It was getting tiring, constantly looking over his shoulder and expecting to see an assassin or a sorcerer, ready to murder him at a moment's notice. He was starting to think that maybe it would have been better if the anonymous tip about a traitor in his castle hadn't reached him after all - at least he would have been able to sleep properly at night, then. Lack of sleep made him cranky, and though he tried to hide it, there must be some sort of weird aura around him that alerted everyone in his proximity to his grumpy mood, because the royal household was on tenterhooks around him.

Even Merlin. Instead of waking him up every morning by yanking open the curtains and yelling at him for a few minutes, Merlin had started sneaking into his room a couple of minutes late and simply sprawling onto the bed next to him until he woke up. This particular method of waking him had the added bonus of a few extra minutes of sleep and the fact that he could cuddle be with Merlin for a while. 

"Are you not going to tell me what's bothering you yet?" said Merlin eventually, nibbling on the edge of a slice of apple he took from Arthur's untouched breakfast. "The entire castle knows something's wrong. There's rumours you've been put under a spell." 

"I'm not under a spell," Arthur replied automatically. As if anyone could get close enough to enchant him, with Merlin insisting on protecting him (and the entirety of Camelot insisting on protecting Merlin). Merlin raised an eyebrow. 

"That's exactly what you would say if you were under a spell, though, isn't it?"

It was a feeble attempt at a joke, but Arthur cracked a smile anyway. Merlin grinned back. 

"I won't ask. But - you can trust people here, you know. Hold a meeting. The knights, some lords and nobles you trust - peasants, if you have to. Tell someone. It's not weak to ask for help." 

"I know that," said Arthur slowly. It had been one of the many things Merlin had nagged him into learning. "It's more of a matter of trust. And - well, being sure whether or not they're a traitor to Camelot?" 

Merlin stared at him, his brow furrowed. 

"So there's a traitor somewhere?" 

Arthur nodded glumly, picking at the chunk of bread on his plate. "I got an anonymous tip. It makes sense, as well, considering how almost every one of our patrols ended up getting ambushed, even though we changed the times and positions in secret." 

Ambushing patrols was one thing - they came back unharmed, for the most part. His knights were well-trained - the biggest injury had been a shallow sword cut to the thigh. But if the enemy could find out about his patrols so easily, it wouldn't be so hard for them to find out enough about Camelot's defences and stage an attack based on the citadel's weaknesses. 

Merlin huffed. "Okay, that settles it. We're having a meeting." 

Arthur addressed the solemn-looking group of people before him gravely. 

"I have called you all here today because you are the only people I can trust with this delicate matter. We need to figure out how to find the traitor and apprehend them before they can uncover Camelot's defences or ignite another war." 

He hadn't gathered many people - there were a few of his trusted knights, a couple of nobles, and, of course, Merlin and Gwen. He couldn't risk spreading the word of a traitor, or it might alarm the enemy and cause them to attack or flee. 

Truthfully, he still felt uneasy about this. He's seen one too many betrayals happen close to home, and even with Merlin besides him, he can't trust himself enough. If he gives his trust to the wrong person again, if his kingdom suffers another blow because of his own foolishness ...

Gwen spoke first, surprising the other nobles at the table. 

"Well, that's easy," she said brightly, and Arthur blinked. "Just do what you did here!" 

"... Which is?" he said hesitantly. 

Another noble recovered quickly from the surprise and nodded eagerly. "She's right, sire. You trust us to be here because Merlin trusts us, right? I mean, I've only met you like, once, when you were two years old. But Merlin knows me!" 

"Exactly!" Lancelot clapped his hands. "Just follow Merlin around town, observe who he interacts with, and if anyone doesn't immediately look at him with hearts in their eyes, they're probably the traitor." 

Arthur snorted. "What? No, that's ridiculous." 

He ended up doing it anyway, and they found the traitor in ten minutes. Merlin raised an eyebrow at his stunned look, and Arthur did his best to ignore the knights and nobles' knowing smiles. 

Lesson 3: Bandits have connections

Honestly, thought Arthur, as he tumbled off his horse and drew his sword in a panic, he really should do something about all these bandits. It was becoming quite a problem. 

"Bandits!" yelled Gwaine, several seconds too late. He drew his sword out of the scabbard, and accidentally tangled it up in his cloak and spent a few moments trying to tug it loose. Leon started attacking the nearest rogue, and Percival, who didn't have time to get his sword, reached up and simply punched one of them. It knocked them out cold. 

"I thought you said there weren't any bandits on this road?" Lancelot huffed, parrying a bandit's attack and hitting him over the head with the hilt of his sword. Arthur rolled his eyes, ducking under a poorly-timed blow and swiping at the bandit's exposed body. 

"I'm sorry I don't have magical distance vision!" he shouted back, somewhat annoyed. The bandit keeled over at his feet, and Arthur backed up towards his horse, scanning the scene. His knights were easily battling the bandits, who had numbers but little skill, and Merlin - 

"Don't move!" 

- ah. There he was. Held in front of the bandit leader, the bandit's sword at his throat. 

Arthur blinked. 

Wait -

"Don't move," the leader said again, "or I'll cut his throat." 

The knights froze. Arthur fought the urge to raze the entire forest to the ground, and turned slowly, facing the leader. The bandit stared at them wildly. 

"Drop your swords. Now." 

Nobody moved. 

The bandit's arm shook slightly, and the sword wavered dangerously close to Merlin's neck. Arthur's hand spasmed momentarily at the sight, and he let the sword slip from his fingers, clattering onto the ground. The knights swiftly followed, a sort of murderous fire in their eyes that would have normally concerned Arthur, if it were not for the fact that he was pretty sure that he had the same look in his own eyes. 

From the bandit's grip, Merlin gave him an amused look, not looking the faintest bit scared. 

"You don't want to do this," said Lancelot carefully, holding his hands in the air. The normally placating gesture was undermined by the fact that Lancelot looked like he wanted to kill the man a thousand times over in the most painful ways possible. "This isn't the answer -" 

"Shut up." 

Leon tried a different tactic. "That's the king's manservant you're holding. Don't think you can get away with harming him. If you let him go now, the king will go easy with your punishment." 

"I don't care!" 

"Gods, he's stubborn," Gwaine said, frowning. "Look, mate, just give us Merlin and we promise we won't tear out your guts and chop off your -"

Arthur watched in befuddlement as the bandit leaders squeaked. 

"Mer - did you say Merlin?" 

Merlin laughed, relaxing. The bandit dropped the sword like it burnt him. 

"Randall. You still remember me?" 

The bandit went several hilarious shades of green. Arthur fought back the sudden urge to start laughing at the sight. 

"Oh my god. Oh my god - I - holy fuck, Merlin, I am so sorry -" 

Bewildered, the knights watched on as the bandit's leader fell into a blubbering apologetic mess, falling to his knees in front of Merlin and crying into his jacket. Merlin seemed highly amused by it all, chatting away to the bandit - Randall - and seemingly having forgotten completely about the fact that he was held at swordpoint only seconds ago. Arthur didn't know whether to freak out or to laugh at it all.

(He felt like doing both.)

Before he knew it, they were setting up camp with the bandits and sharing stories over the campfire and passing around jugs of mead and dried beef, with Merlin happily conducting the odd gathering from the centre. 

Leon stood awkwardly at the edge of the camp, his hand hovering nervously over the hilt of his sword. 

"Do I ... attack?" he asked, confused. Arthur sighed. 

 "I don't even know anymore. Do you want some wine?" 

Leon glanced at the group huddled around the campfire, where Gwaine was performing a particularly dramatic retelling of one of his many bar fights with the help of the bandit he knocked out. The small group were roaring with laughter. 

"Sure, sire." 

Chapter Text

"I told you!" Merlin cried, throwing himself dramatically onto Arthur's bed. "I said it, didn't I? I explicitly said, Arthur, don't hold a masquerade ball, that's literally asking for assassins to try and kill you, and you said Merlin, don't tell me what to do! And look what happened!" 

Arthur pretended not to hear him, sitting down on the other side of the bed. 

"Oh, right. An assassin is coming to the masquerade ball! Two assassins, even! Maybe even three! Who knows? Maybe all the guests will be assassins, and we wouldn't know, because it's a masquerade ball and everyone's wearing masks-" 

Arthur threw a pillow at Merlin's face (gently) to shut him up. 

"We know who's going to come," he said patiently, as Merlin sat up and hugged the pillow angrily to his chest. "It's not like just anyone can come in through those doors. And it's unlikely that an assassin can kill a noble without anyone else finding out and alerting me, is it?" 

Merlin huffed. 

"They could kill a noble right before they enter. Unless they find the body, nobody would be able to tell them apart from the real person. And then where would we be?" 

Arthur struggled to concentrate on the serious matters at hand (it was very difficult, when faced with a petulantly annoyed Merlin. His expressions made Arthur's heart feel funny things and made it difficult to focus.) He had, of course, thought of the potential risks with holding a masquerade ball - but the risk of an assassination was rather low. Camelot's guards weren't useless (when they weren't cooing over Merlin) and honestly, the risk of a group of nobles insulting each other and brawling was probably higher than a successful assassination. 

"It'll be fine, Merlin," he said easily. "Besides, you'd be there. You can keep an eye out for the suspicious-looking assassins." 

"Obviously," Merlin replied, his voice muffled by the pillow. A few seconds ticked by, and Arthur waited patiently for Merlin to process what he'd just said. 

Merlin startled. 

"Wait. You mean - I'll be there as a servant, or -" 

He looked at the smug look on Arthur's face, and paled. 

"Oh. Oh, no. Arthur, you are not dragging me to that ball. Just let me go as a servant -" 

Arthur failed miserably to hold back his grin. "No can do. The servants go unmasked, and these particular servants' faces are already known to most of the nobles. You'd stick out like a sore thumb." 

"I'll kidnap one of them and use a transformation spell -" 

"You don't know any," said Arthur, laughing. He completely missed the way Merlin's eye twitched at his statement, and continued talking. 

"There's another problem, too. There's going to be a lot of noble lords, but they tend to keep to themselves, and they're also well known, so even if you're masked, they'd recognise that your voice is unfamiliar. You'd have a hard time tracking the assassin if you go as a noble." 

Merlin stared at him, baffled. "What do you want me to do, then?" 

Carefully, Arthur placed a hand on his chin and looked at Merlin with a feigned expression of contemplation. 

"You know, we never threw away Morgana's dresses ..." 

Merlin looked at him in horror. 

Gwen clapped her hands in delight, her eyes sparkling. 

"Oh, Merlin, you look lovely! I definitely picked the right dress, the blue really brings out your eyes - here, wear this bracelet, it matches your outfit -" 

Merlin watched helplessly as Gwen bustled around, draping different combinations of necklaces and bracelets on him while chatting happily about colours and textures and social dress codes. Dresses were this complicated? How did the noble ladies keep track of what colour meant what? Why did a certain type of cloth signify something different to another type of cloth? 

There were some times when he was glad he was a servant. Having two sets of identical clothing was definitely much easier than having to do social gymnastics when choosing what to wear every day. 

But, still ... 

"I still don't think this is a good idea," he said feebly. Gwen didn't seem to hear him, now busily creating some sort of elaborate braided hairstyle with the wig on his head. Sighing, he sat down and accepted his fate. He supposed there were worse things that could have happened ... it wasn't like he had much dignity to begin with, even with his status as the supposedly "most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth". When Gwaine had discovered his druidic title and status, it had been a nightmare. It was always "Hey, most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, could you show me how to fix my boot buckle again?" and "Come and have a drink with us, most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth!" or even "Ah, Lord so-and-so, this is King Arthur, this is his first knight Leon, and this is the royal servant, Most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth!" (Admittedly, the bewildered reaction of the lord had been worth the embarrassment.)

There was a knock on the door, breaking him out of his thoughts. Merlin looked up to see a guard poke his head inside, looking around. 

"Merlin, the king wants me to tell you that the ball starts in half an hour, and that you should - Merlin?" 

The guard looked around the room in bafflement. His eyes swept over Gwen and the fancy-looking noble lady in the chair, and he frowned when he didn't see the familiar figure of a manservant in a thin brown jacket and neckerchief.

"Where's Merlin?" 

Gwen let out a delighted laugh. 

"Well, now we know that the disguise works! Merlin, let's go - oh, whoops, it's probably hard to walk in a dress, let me show you the special super-secret Camelot-exclusive technique -" 

Merlin stared at her, aghast. 

"There's a what?" 

Arthur lingered at the doors, half-heartedly greeting the noblemen and ladies as they brushed past him into the hall. He'd only been standing there for a few minutes, but there were so many people ... really, Merlin might have had a point when he had said that masquerade balls were practically asking for an assassination attempt ... not that he was going to tell him. Even though the masks were decorative, and at best only covered the top part of the face, it was enough to force him to squint for a good few seconds to try and make out the person underneath it. And there were so many guests, it would be hard to tell if someone wasn't supposed to be there or not. 

Besides him, Gwen patted his arm sympathetically, a pitcher of wine in her hand. 

"Merlin will be here soon," she said brightly. "He'll blend right in, don't worry, I've used all my skill as a maidservant to dress him up." 

Arthur nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe I should commission a painting of us afterwards ... Merlin in a dress, I'd want to preserve that moment for years ... it wouldn't be a problem, will it? I don't want to end up laughing all the way through the ball, it might tip off the assassin -" 

Gwen was summoned by another lord a few minutes later, and hurried away after wishing Arthur luck.

By the time she returned, however, Arthur's expression had completely changed. 

"Call off the plan." 

"... What?" 

"The plan," Arthur stressed, looking panicked in a way that made Gwen almost drop her pitcher. "Call it off. I can't do it." 

"I - wait, Arthur - why?" 

With an almost hilarious distressed expression on his face, Arthur glanced over his shoulder to the newest guest - a slim figure in a sapphire-blue dress, face half-hidden by an elegant mask with gold embroidery and dark curls spilling over one shoulder. The skin peeking out from under the dress seemed almost marble-white in comparison, looking more like a sculpture created by a foreign master than a noble lady. 

Of course, it wasn't a noble lady, but Merlin in disguise.

"He's - he's too pretty," Arthur wailed, despairing. "Guinevere, I literally can't stop looking at him - I won't be able to pay attention to any assassins -"

Flustered, Gwen looked around and snagged the nearest sensible knight, Lancelot (because as much as she loved the knights of the Round Table like her own family, there were certain things - such as emotional and romantic sensitivity - that she probably wouldn't entrust them with) and dragged him over. 

Lancelot listened carefully to Arthur's stammering for some time, and turned to Gwen with a serious expression. 

"Looks like we're doomed."

Chapter Text

Once it began, the plan seemed to work well - after all, Arthur hadn't spent those nights meeting with his trusted knights and servants (and sorcerer) in various secret meeting places around the castle to discuss the assassins in vain. It only took ten minutes for Merlin to pick out an odd energy coming off two of the guests - they were laughing and drinking and dancing like everyone else, but they seemed oddly ... tense? He wasn't sure how to describe it. Merlin casually slipped through the crowd towards where Arthur was standing in the corner (why was he standing so still?) and offered his hand for a dance. 

Arthur stared at him blankly for a few seconds before remembering what he was supposed to do and guiding Merlin towards a more crowded area of the hall, where their conversation would be drowned out by the noise.

"- and like I said before you decided to put me in a dress," Merlin was whispering heatedly, "I don't know half of these nobles because I'm still technically a servant. Can you ask one of the knights to make sure? I think Leon's closest, he has a list of the guests and their descriptions - Arthur? Arthur, are you listening?" 

Arthur, now that he looked closely, was acting rather strangely. Despite his endless teasing before the ball, he hadn't said a single word ever since Merlin came up to him. His face had also turned rather red.

Merlin frowned. Was there something wrong? 

"Arthur," he pressed, leaning a little closer. 

Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Um," he replied quickly, his voice oddly high-pitched. "Yes. Of course. Continue." 

Quirking an eyebrow, Merlin waited for him to say something else. When Arthur didn't say another word, Merlin shrugged, and carried on. 

At the side of the hall, Lancelot sighed and buried his face in his hands. Beside him, Gwen was struggling not to laugh, the corners of her lips twitching as she clutched the flagon of wine. 

"Is he doing that on purpose?" Lancelot wondered out loud. "Surely he knows ..." 

"I don't think he knows," replied Gwaine gleefully. "Oh, Merlin ..."

The three of them watched, half in despair and half in amusement, as Arthur and Merlin glided around the dance floor, looking like the personification of a perfect noble couple. Merlin was repeatedly leaning closer to whisper more information about the nobles he'd tested, but he seemed to be miraculously unaware of the effect it was having on Arthur. 

"That's - that's literally full-blown flirting," Lancelot said despairingly. "Look - if you look at it from a different angle, you could mistake them to be kissing - they're barely two inches apart - look at Arthur, he's going as red as a tomato -"

Merlin was continuing to relay his report, seemingly unaware of the fact that his words were going into one of Arthur's ears and going out the other. 

Gwen hurriedly put her pitcher of wine down on the table before she dropped it from laughter.

Thankfully, somewhere along the line, Leon was alerted of the king's plight and politely asked Merlin for a dance, whisking him away to the other side of the hall before Arthur lost his mind and did something to alert the assassins.

"Oh," said Merlin brightly, "Sir Leon! I was looking for you. Um - is something wrong with Arthur? He seemed a bit out of it when I tried to talk to him ..."

Leon glanced over to where Arthur was standing, surrounded by the fussing knights and a flustered looking Gwen. He could see the redness of his blush even from here. He sighed. 

"Arthur will be fine," he said doubtfully. "Anyway, Merlin - the assassins?"

"Ah, of course. The ones I found suspicious were -"

Miraculously, the collective efforts of all the knights and servants of Camelot managed to get Arthur's gay panic under control long enough for the plan to be put into action. 

(It may or may not have included Gwaine taking the nearest goblet of wine and throwing it in Arthur's face when nobody was looking.)

It only took ten minutes for Leon to confirm that they didn't quite match the descriptions of the nobles they were meant to be. Arthur began a polite conversation with one of them, cautiously and casually referenced an incident during one noble's last visit to Camelot (which he made up on the spot) and when the noble laughed and seemed to perfectly recall the incident that never actually happened, Arthur drew his sword. 

"Take off your mask." 

The nobleman's laughter froze on his face, and the lively chatter of the guests started to die out rapidly. 

"Ah - sire, I don't think -" 

"Take it off and reveal your identity, or I'll run you through." 

The hall was smothered in dead silence. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lancelot shifting ever so slightly to shield Guinevere and a few other noble ladies hiding behind him, his hand already on his sword. Good. 

The nobleman - or should he say, assassin - didn't move for a few, long seconds. 

There was another assassin, Arthur thought belatedly. The one in front of him wasn't the only one - he couldn't take his eyes off him, just in case something happened, but where was the other one -? 

Oh, okay, the assassin's lunging at him with a knife. Arthur hurriedly dodged, pushing the thought from his mind. It was no big deal, surely - the assassin here was actually rather incompetent. It would only take him a few more seconds to disarm him -

Naturally, it was at that moment that the second assassin decided to show up. 

One of the noblemen suddenly whipped out his hand, yelled something in an indecipherable language, and a massive fireball roared into existence, drowning out the terrified shrieks of the guests. Arthur's parried the assassin's blow and looked on in horror - he couldn't stop that, he was too far away, and even if he was close by there was nothing he could do against a ball of fire that threatened to engulf the whole room -

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of blue. 

Arthur tripped over thin air and almost fell flat on his face, barely managing to keep the assassin at bay. 

"You're so fucked," he said to the bewildered assassin happily, attacking with a renewed vigour. Merlin was standing like some sort of avenging angel in the centre of the room, hands outstretched, cascades of dark hair and blue fabric fluttering around him, and the fireball exploded into a million harmless pieces of light with a single word from his lips. The second assassin froze, staring in shock - and consequently didn't notice Gwaine sneaking up behind him with a wooden stool. 

With a resounding thud, the magic-wielding assassin was knocked out cold. Arthur swiftly sent the sword flying from the first assassin's hands, and within seconds, the guards were rushing in to apprehend the floundering man. 

As the two assassins were dragged away, Arthur lowered his sword, locked eyes with the slightly breathless Merlin, and suddenly remembered that they were in the middle of a hall filled with nobles from all over the kingdom. 

Oh. 

Oh, no. 

They technically hadn't legalised magic yet. It was still in the final stages of confirmation. And the majority of the people in this room were nobles from other kingdoms - kingdoms with different laws than Camelot. Even some of the Camelot nobility disagreed with his decision to overturn the law, preferring instead to hold on to their beliefs they held during the Purge - that all magic was inherently evil. 

Merlin just showed them a massive display of magic. 

Arthur started to panic. A hundred different scenarios, all as disastrous as the last, start flashing through his mind at lightning speed. What if the nobles riot? What if they start clamouring and dragging Merlin off to be executed and he can't stop them? Most of the guards had already left, taking the assassins to the dungeons, and Arthur was only one person? What if they all declare war on Camelot? What if this was the assassins' plan all along? 

Just as Arthur was about to start freaking out, one of the noblemen throws his mask into the air and starts cheering. 

Arthur's mind stuttered to a halt. 

"Lady! Lady, that was awesome!" 

"Hey, miss, have you ever thought of becoming a court sorcerer?" 

"Do that again! Do that again!" 

Gwen was covering her mouth, eyes shining. Arthur looked on, flabbergasted, as Merlin was swamped by a crowd of happily shouting nobles who started showering him in praise. (One of the noble ladies swooned.) 

"Ah," he said awkwardly, fiddling with the bracelet Gwen put on him. "Um. My lords, I think there might have been a misunderstanding -" 

There was a clatter that caught his attention. One of the noblemen (he couldn't see clearly through the mask, but it looked suspiciously like Lord Alexander, who Arthur was sure he hadn't invited) dropped his goblet in shock.

"No way," he cried, in a manner unbefitting of a noblelord. "Is that Merlin?" 

The hall fell into silence for the second time, and for the second time, Arthur's stress skyrocketed through the roof once again.

"Merlin?" 

"Arthur's Merlin?" 

"Ah, the court warlock? Wait, he's here?" 

Gwaine stumbled over to the centre of the room, and raised his goblet. 

"Toast to the sorcerer in a dress!" he yelled, and the hall once again erupted into cheers. 

"I am never doing that again," said Arthur heavily, staggering out of the hall several minutes later. The shock and stress of Merlin's several consecutive magic reveals was finally catching up to him, and his legs were wobbling around like a newborn fawn's. Leon grabbed his arm and pulled him upright, patting him on the shoulder comfortingly.

"Well, it all went well, didn't it?" 

"Fuck. I almost had a heart attack - I don't have an heir, Leon, what will happen to my kingdom if I die of a heart attack in my twenties because of Merlin?" 

Leon shrugged, looking far too unconcerned. "Camelot will be fine, sire. We won't let it fall." 

The burst open once again, along with a sudden surge of noisy cheering, and Merlin ran out, hitching his dress up over his ankles using the special super-secret Camelot-exclusive technique that Gwen had taught him. His cheeks were flushed, and the wig was slipping off slightly, and his gloves were somewhat singed from the fireball he stopped hours earlier. Arthur thought he looked beautiful.

"Arthur! Arthur, they're writing a epic about me!" 

Arthur stared at him, his mind too exhausted to process any more shock. "... What?" 

"They're thinking of calling it 'The sorcerer in a dress'," Lancelot said solemnly from next to him. "It's going to be the biggest hit in town, I hear." 

"... What."

"That was actually fun," Merlin continued breathlessly, tugging off the wig and running a hand through his hair, making it stick up in all directions. "We should hold more balls in the future! Without masquerade masks, of course, I don't want there to be any more assassins - did you see their faces when I stopped the fireball? And Alex was here too - I swear he wasn't on the list, though? Anyway - Arthur? Hey, Arthur, are you alright?" 

Arthur's legs gave out, and Leon grunted with the effort of holding him up. 

"No," he said honestly. "Next time you reveal yourself in front of a crowd of potentially hostile people, warn me next time?" 

"Ah." Merlin had the decency to look guilty for a few moments, then laughed brightly. 

EXTRAS:

"M-may I ask you for a dance, miss?" 

"Lady, can I just say how beautiful you look tonight -" 

"It would be my honour to have a dance with you, my lady!"

Merlin blinked, gaping silently at the small crowd of nobles, both male and female, who had at some point clustered around him and were looking at him eagerly. He fiddled nervously with the bracelet on his wrist. He hadn't expected so many people to actually come up and ask him to dance! He knew this was a ball, but still - 

"Ah," he started hesitantly, feeling his face heat up. "Um - that's - I mean -" 

"Please marry me!" squeaked one of the visiting noble's servants, going bright red, and Merlin despaired.

"That's Merlin! Merlin! Do you think I could ask him for a dance before he leaves?" 

"Are you an idiot? The king would kill you!" 

"I don't think so - look at him, he's too busy having a gay panic, he wouldn't notice even if his castle fell down. Go for it!" 

"You think so?"

"Duh. Look at his majesty, he just tripped over the table and face-planted into a dish of fruit - I think you're safe, mate."

Chapter Text

There was only one downside to not being at war against an overwhelmingly powerful evil magic army of sorcerers and corrupt nobles, in Merlin's opinion. That downside was that in place of one vast life-or-death problem, a million smaller problems rose up to fill its place.

And those million smaller problems were driving him mad.

He let out a deep sigh, head thumping onto the desk. In front of him, Arthur almost didn't seem to notice, still heatedly rambling on about the newest knight, who apparently had no respect, no willingness to work hard, too much arrogance, and a host of other problems that seemed uncannily similar to the ones Merlin distinctly remembered Arthur having when they first met. (He didn't say this, of course.) 

"- and then he just struts around like some oversized chicken, as if he's better than everyone! As if he's better than me! Can you believe that, Merlin?" 

Merlin blankly stared at him for a few moments. 

"Yeah," he said. "Um. Of course." 

Arthur completely missed Merlin's glazed-over eyes, continuing his rant. 

"Right? And then, yesterday, he -" 

In the end, after four hours of rambling which went into one ear and out the other, Merlin used his elbow to knock over the flowerpot next to him, and quickly fussed over it, standing up and cleaning it up and promptly escaping. 

"They're so petty," Merlin groaned, and Lancelot shot him a sympathetic look as he patted his back. 

"I suppose it is a bit unnecessary -" 

"Honestly, who cares if some new knight shows up and beats him? It's just one knight, what's the problem? Isn't it good if we have more strong soldiers? And they argue over the smallest things -" 

Lancelot tried to take the flask of ale out of Merlin's hands. "Yes, well -" 

"Are they both children? They're acting like five-year-olds, even the toddlers in Ealdor are more mature than those two big-headed idiots -" 

Lancelot sighed and gave up. 

"Alright," said Merlin, yanking Arthur's armour straps sharply and cutting him off in the middle of his tirade. "This has been going on for long enough, you need to stop acting so childish and just suck it up." 

Arthur gaped at him wordlessly, looking so insulted that Merlin would have found it hilarious if he hadn't been driven almost to the brink of madness by their actions.

"Suck it up? Merlin, he's insulting my honour -" 

"You - for heaven's sake, you tried to duel him to the death because he accidentally got some mud on your favourite breastplate!" 

Merlin had run around frantically for an hour, trying to stop the duel from actually happening and rushing to cover it up before any nobles or higher-ranking knights got the wind of it. It was exhausting, and the fact that both Arthur and the new knight had tried to start a brawl every time he wasn't looking only made it worse.

"It was a carefully calculated act of contempt, and if you can't see that then you're blind -" 

"What, because this is a knight's issue of honour that I can't understand since I'm just a servant?" 

Arthur looked flabbergasted. "Merlin, this is bigger than just -"

Merlin pulled off the armour as roughly as possible and shoved it into Arthur's arms before turning around and stomping out of the room.

Gwaine watched as Merlin stormed out of Arthur's bedchambers, a dark scowl on his face. He could vaguely make out the words the warlock was muttering under his breath. 

"- fine! Fine, stupid goddamn knights and their stupid useless honour - how about I turn all their swords into snakes that bite them every time they talk, how about that, how would you argue about your tiny insignificant knightly feelings then -" 

Suddenly, Gwaine didn't feel like pulling a prank on Merlin anymore. 

"Headache?" said Gwen sympathetically, and Merlin buried his face in his hands. 

"Several," he said unhappily. "Really, I'm even more stressed now than before." 

Sitting down in the chair next to him, Gwen patted his arm while handing him a steaming mug of barley tea. Merlin had taken refuge in her house after three hours of watching the unbearably loud ruckus that was the knight's training session. Arthur and the new knight had immediately started squabbling as soon as they walked onto the field, fighting over something petty. He already had a headache from all the problems he could tell they were going to cause.

Gwen smiled awkwardly. "I'm sure they'll get over it soon. You know how they're like - boys, you know?" 

"Gwen, I'm a boy." 

"Oh, no, I didn't mean - um. Knights, you know?" 

Merlin grinned tiredly. "It's okay. But - I don't know, I feel like they still don't consider how much trouble they're making? We're the ones who have to clean up afterwards, and we already have so much to do. And they're positively wonderful compared to some of those other lords - the entire kingdom knows I'm the most powerful warlock, right? Why do they keep treating me like some lowly servant who doesn't deserve to speak?" 

With a pitying look on her face, Gwen sighed. 

"It's not like they've ever been servants before, I suppose. It's hard for them to immediately understand - not that they're not trying, of course, I doubt there's been any noble ..." 

Suddenly, Gwen trailed off, a dawning look of realisation on her face. Merlin, however, was lying face-down on the table and didn't see her. 

Merlin stared at the golden dragon who was casually sharpening his claws on the side of the castle. 

"... what are you doing here?" 

Kilgharrah nodded majestically, flapping his wings and knocking over twenty training dummy in the process. 

"I sensed your anger, young warlock," he said serenely. "You must not succumb to the dark side. Your destiny -" 

"No," snapped Merlin immediately. How had the dragon even come into Camelot? Was there a loophole in his order to not come into the kingdom? Surely not, otherwise they were all in trouble and Merlin would have yet another thing to worry about and do damage control on. "No, do not talk to me about destiny again, haven't I already told you about how much trauma and mental scars your prophecies have inflicted on me and my friends by depriving us of happy childhoods and loving families and supportive communities and killing all the people I tried to get close to  -" 

Looking rather affronted, Kilgharrah paused. 

"But -" 

"No!"

"Two halves of the same -" 

"If you don't fly away in ten seconds I'm going to turn your claws into cabbages." 

Kilgharrah wisely heeded his command, looking back in disappointment. 

Merlin clenched his fists, a deadly sort of aura rising off his body. 

"If one more person," he hissed, "If one more person comes in and pisses me off, I'm going to destroy everything." 

Gaius slowly edged away from his nephew and closed the door. 

One more person came in and pissed Merlin off.

"- ah, Emrys! We -" 

"Magic is legalised in all the kingdoms and there hasn't been any unjust magic-related executions for the last four years can you stop climbing in through my bedroom window at the crack of dawn to remind me about the stupid prophecy -!"

The druid squeaked in terror.

Gaius wisely ignored the sudden ominous rumbling coming from Merlin's room. 

"Merlin!" 

Lord Alexander waved at him, grinning brightly from on top of his horse. "It's been so long! How have you been?" 

Merlin sighed in response. Lord Alexander's grin faltered. 

"Oh," he said. "Um - where's Arthur?" 

"... don't know." 

One of Lord Alexander's eyebrows were twitching. 

"You don't ... know?"

Merlin didn't know where Arthur was? Merlin? The Merlin who was absolutely, completely besotted with and fussed over the crown-prince-now-king? Lord Alexander frowned. Was this Merlin an impostor? 

In front of him, Merlin let out another despondent sigh. The look was so pitiful that Alexander immediately got off his horse and slapped him on the back.

"Okay, you're upset. We need to do something about it." 

This only seemed to make Merlin more unhappy, recalling the stress of running around after the knights and Arthur and Kilgharrah and the druids and fixing all of the trouble they were stirring up.

"Nothing can cure these idiots of their stupidity, I've tried." 

Oh, dear. It was bad. 

The two of them stood in silence for a while. Alexander finally clapped his hands. 

"What if you were thinking about it the wrong way? Let's give up on curing the - the idiots of their stupidity. Let's make life living hell for them instead!" 

Your highness, please don't banish me for calling you an idiot, I was only trying to cheer up your boyfriend.

Merlin's eyes slowly brightened, and Alexander only had a split second to think, oh, maybe I shouldn't have said this to the most powerful warlock in existence, before Merlin started laughing.

After a week of suspiciously well-timed rat infestations, blades falling off practice swords, the knights' armour all somehow turning a bright shade of pink, water jugs falling from the ceiling whenever they walked by, and the dung heap mysteriously migrating to the spot underneath his window, Arthur's pride was sufficiently worn away. 

"I ... may have been a little hasty with my judgement," he mumbled. Merlin crossed his arms and looked at him. 

"Okay. I was wrong. I wasn't - I'm still not used to you being ... well, the most powerful warlock to ever exist, and I thought things would change between us if I were to just ... completely change the way we interacted, and I didn't want that, but then I ended up being an idiot and doing something completely different and I'm -"

A knight suddenly burst into the room, interrupting them both.

"Sire! Sire, t-the horses - the livestock - t-they're -" 

Alarmed, Arthur dashed over to the window and looked outside. He almost fell out of it in shock. 

"Merlin!" 

Merlin stole an apple from his bedside table and bit into it serenely, pretending not to notice the dozens of cattle and pigs and horses that had suddenly sprouted wings and were having the time of their lives flying over the castle battlements. 

"Okay, now you're just abusing your powers. I gave you complete freedom of magic to help the kingdom, not to move all the chickens into my bedchambers -"

"Oh, we're not done yet," said Merlin happily. He turned towards the door, where Gwen was standing with a pile of clothes in her hands. Arthur squinted at them both suspiciously. There didn't seem anything suspicious about those clothes - they were clean, if not a little threadbare, plain, obviously servant's clothes ... that looked just his size ... 

"Oh. Oh, no. No, you're not making me -"

"Yes," Gwen said immediately, and started wrestling him out of his armour. 

"This is horrible," Arthur grumbled under his breath, furiously polishing the silverware. "You all get higher wages. Is there no other way to do this?" 

"Not really, no," said Merlin, levitating an entire collection of spoons and cleaning them instantly with a wave of his hand. Arthur gaped at him wordlessly. Merlin pretended not to look at him, struggling to hide a grin. 

"There's nothing but hard, gruelling work in a servant's life," Gwen added pitifully, her hands flying deftly over the silverware with the speed and expertise of someone who's practised the same thing a thousand times. Her pile of cleaned cutlery was five times higher than Arthur's. 

Arthur looked down at the one fork he had been trying to polish for the last fifteen minutes, and sighed.

"Wait, why am I cleaning out the stables? We have stablehands to do this, that's what we hired them for -" 

Merlin gave him an unimpressed look. Arthur shifted nervously and tried to look like he didn't remember ordering Merlin to clean out his horse's stables every day since he got hired.

"... I will clean out the stables." 

"... Is that the king?" 

Lord Alexander cleared his throat and pretended not to see. Beside him, his squire was squinting suspiciously at the small crowd milling around the stables. They all seemed to be watching one particular servant who was shovelling the dirty hay onto a cart - a servant who seemed rather inept, going by how clumsily he handed the equipment. 

"My lord, I'm not seeing things, right? That definitely looks like the king ..." 

"There's lots of blond stablehands in this kingdom," said Alexander quickly. "And even if it was the king, I had nothing to do with him being there." 

His squire looked at him funny, and Alexander looked away. 

Chapter Text

"Oh," said Merlin offhandedly, in the middle of writing out a draft for Arthur's speech, while Arthur was absently swinging his sword around in his bedroom. "I almost forgot to mention - my mother's coming to visit, she'll be here by tomorrow." 

He'd said it as a passing thought, almost to himself - he didn't expect Arthur's reaction to his words to be so extreme.

Arthur dropped his sword. It fell with a clatter on the ground, and Merlin jumped, almost knocking over the ink pot, staring at Arthur's expression of absolute horror.

"She's what?" 

Merlin frowned, uncertain. "What do you mean? I thought you liked her? Do you not want her to come?" 

Arthur blanched. 

"Oh, god, I haven't prepared anything for her arrival - guards? Guards! We have an emergency -" 

There was a crash and the door flew open. About fifteen guards (were there normally this many outside his door?) fell over each other in their hurry to get inside.

"We're on it right away, sire! Leave it to us, don't worry!" 

"Holy shit, guys, this is it -"

"This is Merlin's mother - Merlin's -"

"We'll make the best arrangements, sire!"

Merlin watched in bemusement as the guards sprinted away down the hallway, their armour creating a terrific din as it clattered and crashed around them. 

"Oh, that's what you meant ..."

That evening, the entire castle was in absolute chaos. If anyone from a neighbouring kingdom had visited at that time, they would probably have panicked and thought that Camelot was preparing to go to war. There was a never-ending crashing echoing through the castle as the guards ran to and fro, not pausing to take of their armour (causing the massive racket), the pile of horse dung that had built up outside the royal stables that nobody had ever bothered to properly clean up for years vanished overnight (Arthur almost didn't recognise the place without it), and the servants suddenly appeared to have multiplied, speeding up and down the castle with cleaning rags and mops and buckets of water, polishing every stone. 

They even managed to get the centuries-old cobwebs off the chandeliers on the ceiling of the main hall - how they did that, Arthur had no idea. 

"I didn't know you were good at flower arrangement," he said to the old knight to was delicately placing a selection of bright blossoms in a vase. The knight nodded gravely.

"Thank you very much, sire," he replied. "I'm glad my humble talents are finally able to be of service."

"Didn't you lead the army against a massive invasion against an evil empire during my father's reign?"

"This is much more important, sire."

Merlin, watching from behind a pillar a few metres away, stifles a laugh and turns away.

Merlin ambushes Hunith in the woods just outside Camelot. 

"Mum! Over here -"

Hunith, startled, almost drops her bags at the sight of her son, sticking his head out of the bushes and looking fairly alarmed. She immediately thinks of the worst - was he caught? Did something happen to Arthur? Was there another magical war about to happen?

"Merlin? Why are you out here? Why do you look so - did something happen?"

"Uh ..." Merlin grimaces, and Hunith frowns, concerned. "Not yet? You might want to prepare yourself, though. I told them not to go too overboard, but they sort of didn't listen to me ..."

"Oh," said Hunith, and smiled, patting Merlin on the head fondly. "Don't worry, I'm sure it will be fine. I trust your friends."

Merlin glanced nervously towards the noisy streets of Camelot. "About that ... it's not just my friends, it's sort of ... the entire kingdom?"

"Oh, my -" Hunith watched in confusion as a large group of knights came running down the street towards her, some of them in armour and some without. They seemed like a bunch of overgrown puppies. Merlin sighed, but couldn't keep the amusement off his face.

"It's Merlin's mother!"

"Hello, Merlin's mother!"

"Merlin's mother, please accept my gift - thank you so much for bringing Merlin into the world -"

In an instant, Hunith and Merlin were completely surrounded by what appeared to be everyone in the kingdom. Several people pushed bouquets of flowers into her arms, slipped bundles of freshly picked herbs into her bags, and started showering her with free wares from the market.

"Goodness," Hunith said, laughing. "I didn't know you'd made so many friends, Merlin - oh, thank you, dear, these are lovely - how much are they?"

"No payment!" The shopkeeper squeaked. "All free for Merlin's mother!"

"No, I really couldn't - these look so expensive -"

Hunith tried to pay the shopkeeper, and the shopkeeper ran away at the speed of light, only to return later with more presents.

"Guys, meet my mother," Merlin said a little belatedly (and unnecessarily), trying not to laugh.

"I have the best inn in town," the innkeeper said cheerfully. "Merlin helped me out greatly a while back - I'd be happy to give you a discount on my best room!"

Hunith looked around admiringly at the building - it really did look much nicer than the inns one would normally see around the kingdom. The tables were well-made, the floor cleanly swept, and bright flowers decorating the windows. "Oh, that's very kind of you - how did Merlin help you?"

"Oh, he saved the kingdom from an army of undead soldiers - they would have been very bad for business, you know, because they would have killed me and my employees, not to mention all my customers -"

"Excuse me?"

"- and he also helped negotiate a good deal with the farmers I get my supplies from! Some of those people in the outer kingdom are only really looking to scam you, but Merlin here was very helpful! I get only the best now - would you like to try some of our dishes? We serve a very nice speciality -"

Hunith looked at Merlin in surprise. Merlin looked away, somewhat bashful, and asked the innkeeper what the discount was.

The innkeeper beamed.

"Normally the price for this room would be ten gold pieces, but for you, Miss Hunith, I'll accept a single penny!"

"I see now why you said that it was 'sort of the entire kingdom'," Hunith mused later. Merlin went red.

"Yeah," he said awkwardly. "Um - they do mean well, even if they probably overreacted a bit. I mean, I helped, but lots of other people helped as well, and Arthur did a lot too, and it's not like I'm the only person with magic who tried to help the kingdom - and I wouldn't have even been able to do the things I did if it weren't for other people supporting me -"

Hunith watches her son rambling, and smiles fondly. 

"I'm proud of you," she said. Merlin stuttered to a halt.

"Oh, er - I almost forgot, Arthur wanted me to tell you - he's invited you to dine with him up in the castle this afternoon, he's really excited to meet you - well, he didn't say that, but it's pretty obvious -"

"This was not a good idea," Arthur whispered in panic, outside the door to the main hall. "Merlin, what if she doesn't like me?"

"I'm pretty sure she likes you already," replied Merlin, raising an eyebrow. "You helped save Ealdor from the bandits a while back, remember? And you've met her a few times after that as well, it's not like this is the first time she's come to Camelot. I'm sure she already loves you."

"But this is different," Arthur stressed. "I wasn't - I wasn't courting her son back then, was I? I might have made a good impression as a prince and a king, but this is totally different!"

Merlin struggles to keep a calm and rational expression in front of Arthur, but he can't help cracking a grin at the distressed look on Arthur's face. It wasn't often he saw him this distraught, and the fact that it's because of meeting Merlin's mother is endlessly funny to him. (He'll tease Arthur about it later.)

"It's fine," Merlin assured, ushering him towards the doors. "Just act like you normally do around me! But without the bad puns, or the boasting, or the pointless orders to satisfy your massive ego -"

"Hey!"

Fortunately, Hunith took one look at Arthur and Merlin and beamed.

"I approved of you as my son-in-law from the moment you stepped foot in Ealdor," she confessed. Merlin spluttered, and Arthur went bright red. 

"Ah," he said intelligently. 

"Mum!"

Chapter Text

"We wanted to make a good impression, you know, since it's our first time officially meeting your mother -"

"Oh my god - what have you done?"

Percival looks down at his armour nervously. 

"Did it not work? Does it look weird?"

Merlin stares open-mouthed. He has absolute no idea what the knight put on his armour (and it looks like it's his ceremonial armour, too, the sort of armour that is made of silver and intricately decorated and stupidly hard to clean and he's also pretty sure it's meant for show and not actually meant to be worn -) but it makes the metal gleam - in an weird way. It catches the light at all the wrong places, and looking at it, Merlin can't help but think about how oddly greasy and waxy it looks. 

It also smells to high heaven. 

"I don't know what you put on there, but it didn't work," he says, grimacing. Percival droops.

"Oh," he says sadly. "Can you fix it?"

Merlin holds back a laugh (he can't help it, he look like an overgrown sad puppy) and nods, trying to remember what sort of incantation would clean unidentifiable grease off armour. As far as he knows, there is no incantation for cleaning unidentifiable grease off armour, so he just closes his eyes and lets the magic do the work for the first time in a while.

Incantations helped a lot in channelling his magic and keeping it safely under control, but it wouldn't hurt to make sure that his instinctive magic still worked too.

When he opens his eyes, the armour is looking much more normal. The smell still lingers, but hopefully it won't be too noticeable. They both sigh with relief. 

"Thanks, Merlin," he says gratefully. "Uh - you know that spell you just did? How many times do you think you could do that?"

"... did the other knights use that same grease?"

"... yeah."

Merlin was planning to supervise the knights while they met his mother, but he'd gotten lost in the forest after zoning out and by the time he'd run back up to the castle, the knights had been alone with Hunith for about ten minutes. Which wasn't a long time, admittedly, but he'd known the knights for long enough to know that ten minutes was more than enough time for them to cause chaos. (One time, Gwiane managed to start six different bar fights in ten minutes ... in five different bars. That was not a fun time.)

However, he's pleasantly surprised to subtly burst into the room and find Gwaine drunk, but not making a mess of himself, Leon acting as reliably as ever (thank God for Leon), Percival having thankfully forgone the oddly smelling ceremonial armour and instead wearing a regular outfit while showing Hunith how to make a particularly intricate flower crown (since when did he know how to do that?), Elyan talking about the deep-set issues between class divisions with the nobles and the peasantry and how geographical differences and borders affect those issues, and Lancelot being the gentleman that he is. 

Merlin's just thankful that nothing's on fire. 

"Oh! Merlin's here!" Gwaine waves cheerfully from where he's sprawled over the chair. He turns to Hunith, and adds in a deadly serious voice, "I would die a thousand times for Merlin. You don't have to worry about your son when he's with us."

"I heard," says Hunith, amused.

"Please don't," Merlin mumbles, but grins anyway, sliding into the chair between Lancelot and Elyan. "What did I miss?"

"Not much," Percival says. "We showed your mother the Merlin book."

"... The what book?"

Lancelot blinks, then his face dawns with understanding. 

"Oh," he says gravely. "We never told him about the Merlin book."

"The what book, Lancelot?"

"Hm," says Lancelot, and avoids his gaze, slowly taking a large, leather-bound book off the table and sliding it into his bag.

Merlin narrows his eyes, looking around at the way all the knights suddenly develop an interest in their cups of wine, or their tunic laces, or the cracks in the table. Hunith looks like she's trying not to laugh. 

Of course, he is the most powerful warlock to ever exist, so it only takes a quick flash of golden eyes and a flick of a finger for the book to come flying out from Lancelot's bag and land neatly in his outstretched hands. Gwaine appears to be trying to climb out of the window. (Leon and Elyan are trying to pull him back inside.)

"What are you guys doing making a Merlin book?" he says suspiciously, staring at the leather-bound volume for a few seconds. It looked big before, but now that he's actually holding it in his hands, he realises that it's a very, very big book. There's a lot of pages in it - there might even be more pages than in that one book on medicinal herbs Gaius always has in his bedroom. And that book is big.

He opens it to the first page. 

And immediately goes red.

"This is an invasion of privacy," he protests a few minutes later, as Hunith and the knights laugh at him. "Mum, did you really need to tell them every embarrassing thing I did when I was four?"

"They're your friends, aren't they?" Hunith says gently. "And besides, some of those really were too funny to keep to myself."

"Mum," Merlin wails. Leon has the decency to look at least a little embarrassed, but most of the knights look completely unapologetic. Hunith just beams.

"And besides, I think it's quite sweet that your friends made a book about you, and all the things you did. I'm happy to know that you've been taking care of each other all this time. This would be really handy if you were ever hit by a spell that caused you to lose all your memories of yourself and you needed a way to remember your life and who you were, and how much people loved you and who your friends were."

Merlin suddenly feels chills.

"... why is that situation so specific ...?"

By sundown, Hunith is on a first-name basis with all of the knights and somehow knows the names of all of their extended families. 

"We'll definitely come and visit Ealdor sometime!" Elyan says excitedly. "We'll find a way to drag Merlin away from Arthur for a few days - or maybe we can just drag Arthur along too -"

"Yeah, just kidnap Arthur, we don't need to ask him -"

Leon laughed. "I'm sure Arthur would be happy to go with us to visit Ealdor if we just asked."

"Nah, let's just kidnap him, that'll be more fun."

"Boys," Huntih scolds, but she looks like she's holding back a laugh. "Don't worry about it. Ealdor must be a really small place compared to what you all are used to living in - it would be easier for me to travel back here than for you all to come and stay, and besides, I'm not sure if there are even enough beds in Ealdor, even in the inns."

"I wouldn't mind sleeping in a tree, honestly," Gwaine says, nudging Percival in the ribs. "I've slept in worse places - remember that one time we had to spend the night in the well, hiding from the town guards?"

"You were what?" says Hunith.

"Never mind," Percival says cheerfully. "Didn't you say there were lots of butterflies in Ealdor, Merlin?"

Merlin puts his hands on his hips and glares at the large golden dragon sitting calmly on the grass. The dragon settles down comfortably on the ground, returning the look smugly. 

It kind of reminds him of an old cat, sitting on its haunches and licking its paws as it watches the destruction and carnage burning around it. 

"Are you sure I'm a Dragonlord?" Merlin says suspiciously. "Because I'm fairly certain I ordered you out of Camelot, and this is the third time you've come back here. Without my permission."

"You are definitely a Dragonlord," Kilgharrah says serenely. "I'm just special."

"Was there a loophole in my command? Do I need to re-order you to make sure that you stay out?"

"That will be unnecessary, young warlock."

Hunith watches the conversation with amusement and mild concern. 

"I take it that you are Kilgharrah, then?" she says politely. The dragon looks her up and down, and seems to decide that she is a tolerable human being, because he just nods slowly.

"Oh, I see." Hunith walks up to Kilgharrah, ignoring Merlin's dawning look of horror, and smiles. "So you're the dragon who's been terrorising my son by forcing these foretold prophecies onto him without fully explaining the extent of his duties and blaming him when his path to his destiny inevitably becomes warped due to the fact that he has had no experience with anything other than farming and keeping his abilities secret for fear of death?"

Kilgharrah's yellow eyes are staring at her in confusion. Merlin gives up and sits on the grass, hovering between anxiety and satisfied curiosity. 

Kilgharrah coughs awkwardly. "Well, I suppose -"

"And then you gave him unclear instructions on how to fulfil the destiny you gave such importance to, leaving him to be manipulated and misled by a hundred different people, being rather unsympathetic when his friends were hurt or killed and offering unhelpful advice such as suggesting murdering a young child for a crime he hasn't committed, and when the consequences of being a good person come back to hit him in the face you tell him that he shouldn't go down a path of darkness because his destiny has great things planned for him? Which you still haven't clearly told him about?"

"When you put it like that -"

"And when my son upheld his end of the bargain and freed you, you immediately turned on him and the attacked the kingdom, even though most of these people had nothing to do with the eradication of your kind, and were either completely unable to do anything to resist, or were threatened and scared of Uther murdering them and their families to help? And you even went as far to attack the Once and Future King that you had been pressuring Merlin to protect and serve ever since the first moment you met? The second cornerstone to the oh so very important destiny you had been spouting nonsense about all this time?"

"From a certain perspective, he did attack me first -"

Merlin clears his throat, but the noise sounds a little like a laugh, and Kilgharrah glares at him.

"Mum, I think he gets it."

Hunith takes a deep breath, gives one final warning look at the stunned-looking dragon, and smiles warmly at her son. 

"Well, if you're sure, dear."

Kilgharrah is still looking hilariously insulted as they turn to leave, so Merlin can't help but cast one last look over his shoulder and add, "She really does have a point, you know," before speeding up before the dragon can process his words and send a blast of fire their way. 

"Are you sure you wouldn't like the royal escort?" 

Hunith smiles, patting Arthur's hand reassuringly.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll be fine, and it would just be more of a hassle, anyway."

Arthur frowns, still looking doubtful. 

"It's a long way to Ealdor, and there's still bandits and mercenaries around. It'll be safer for you, and Merlin and I would feel better knowing -"

"Oh, I really couldn't. Besides, what would the people think if a widow from a poor village turned up with a royal escort?"

Gwen pokes her head in through the door, smiling brightly. 

"Honestly, I think the entire kingdom knows that you're Merlin's mother, and by extension they all love you too. I don't think you'll need to worry much."

"Exactly," Arthur continues eagerly. "And technically, you will be part of the royal family soon - once Merlin and I get married, you'll be my mother-in-law -"

Hunith squeaks and covers her mouth. Gwen almost drops the tray she's holding.

"Once you and Merlin get what?"

Arthur freezes, then stares at them in confusion.

"Oh ... I forgot to tell you."

"Weren't you only courting Merlin two days ago? Since when were you engaged?"

Hunith drops all her bags, and grabs Arthur's hands.

"Never mind about going back to Ealdor," she says gleefully. "Tell me about how you proposed to Merlin. Tell me everything."

A branch snaps behind her, and Morgana whirls around, eyes glowing dull gold with an attack ready on her lips. 

But there's no attacker, no enemy sorcerer or royal knight with their sword drawn. There's just a peasant woman, a basket of plants - medicinal herbs? - tucked under her arm. They look at each other for a few seconds, then the woman places the basket on the ground and begins to approach her.

Morgana backs away, immediately wary.

"Do you know who I am?" Morgana says, her voice low and dangerous. She purposely holds the woman's gaze, lets the magic flare up inside her and flash gold through her irises. 

The woman, however, seems nonplussed.

"I know you're lost, child," she replies. "There's a small village nearby. It's not much, but I can give you some food and a place to spend the night, if you need?"

Was she lost? 

Morgana tightens her hold on her magic - the woman couldn't have meant it that way, but she couldn't help but think of her own doubts about what she was doing. She was freeing magic, and magic was good, while the Pendragon family and the kingdoms had done nothing but persecute and terrorise and burn for years - but it was all too easy to fall back into a daydream, to remember those days that really weren't that long ago when she would spend her time talking with Gwen in her bedchambers, sneaking into the training grounds behind Uther's back to beat Arthur at swordfighting in front of his own knights and take fun embarrassing him, watching from the top of the castle towers as the sun set over the kingdom and washed it with shades of red and orange that were so much softer and warmer than the colour of the pyres that burned in that castle only days after.

She doesn't listen to those rumours circulating around the more pacifist druid groups, that the young Pendragon king had revoked the ban on magic in Camelot, and was working with Emrys to bathe the lands in magic once more. It is wishful thinking, and if they think for one moment that any Pendragon would truly, fully accept magic without any planned betrayal, hidden scheme, or simmering hatred and fear, then they were fools.

Was she lost?

"It looks like it might rain," the woman says then, interrupting Morgana's thoughts. "How about you come with me to the village first, dear, and then you can decide? Maybe you can ask around the tavern, the hunters and merchants know these woods better than I do."

Morgana opens her mouth to reply - to threaten? To cast a spell? She doesn't know, and falls silent.

The woman looks at her kindly - there's none of that misplaced pity in her gaze that she hates so much, and there's no fear, or anger, or hatred. She looks at her like she understands, somehow, but that's impossible. It has to be impossible.

There is no way that she would know who Morgana is, and still treat her so kindly.

The woman returns to the basket she left on the ground, and picks it up again, turning back around to look at Morgana expectantly.

"These woods do seem quite large at first, don't they?" she says thoughtfully. "All woods do. You step inside them, and the moment you walk off the trail to look for someone else, it gets dark, and it feels like it becomes impossible to find the path, any path, again. But the path doesn't disappear. It's still there. There are lots of ways to find it again - retrace your steps, look for someone who can lead you back. As long as you don't give up and wander deeper."

Something inside Morgana twists painfully, and she swallows. 

"I'm not lost," she says again, trying to make her voice firmer. "But I - I'll go with you. I was looking for a village."

The woman beams, and pats her hand. 

"Let's go, then, my dear," she says. And Morgana follows.

Chapter Text

"It's not that he's overused his magic, exactly," Gaius says, prodding a slightly delirious Merlin as he tries to escape from the sunlight and burrow into Arthur's pillows. "Technically, there should still be a lot of magic left in him. It's more like ... the way your body would hurt if you ran around the kingdom without warming up? He's been doing a lot of magic since it's been legalised, and since he's spent most of his life actively suppressing it, his body just isn't used to that kind of strain."

Arthur hovered anxiously. "So - does that mean he'll be okay?"

Gaius pats him on the arm.

"Don't worry, sire, your boyfriend will be fine in a day or two."

From the bed, Merlin rolls over a few times and mumbles, "Not boyfriend. Arthur proposed."

Chuckling, Gaius snatches the blankets before Merlin can kick them off the bed, and covers Merlin again.

"Your betrothed, then."

Turning to Arthur, he lowers his voice. 

"Sire, would you mind popping down to my quarters and retrieving my bag? There's some fever medicine and tonic to help with sleep in there. I think Merlin might need them later."

Normally, ordering a king to run errands around the castle would be a rather offensive act, but at this point Arthur doesn't really care. He glances back again at Merlin - (his betrothed) - and heads out of the door without a complaint.

When he runs back inside a few minutes later, slightly breathless from running up and down all those stairs without stopping (he's starting to reconsider having his bedchambers at the top of a tower) he's rather alarmed to notice that the bed is empty. 

"Where did Merlin go?" he says instantly. 

Gaius, thankfully, doesn't look too worried, and takes the satchel of medicine from his hands and points towards the closet door, which is hanging slightly open, with a somewhat amused look. Arthur shoves the bag into his arms and approaches the closet, pulling the doors open slightly. Curled up in the corner is Merlin, nestled within the shadows and fabrics of Arthur's ... wardrobe?

"Hello, Merlin," Arthur says gently, crouching down to meet his gaze. "What are you doing here?"

Merlin's eyes are glowing faintly in the darkness, the familiar swirl of sapphire and gold that made Arthur's heart skip a beat. 

"Comfy," he mumbles, blinking up at him. "Smells like you. You weren't here. Where did you go?"

Oh. 

Arthur fights back the odd mix of warmth and fluttery emotions bubbling up inside of him, and opens the door a little wider. 

"Sorry," he says, patting Merlin's hand. "I was downstairs, getting something for Gaius. I won't leave, don't worry. Come back to the bed?" 

"Sunlight," Merlin complains, but goes with him anyway. 

Arthur's thankful that he's lifted the ban on magic, because it would be an absolute nightmare to try and keep the odd magic bursts of a sleepy and still slightly delirious Merlin secret. 

When the seventeenth magical butterfly alights on his wrist, adding to the colourful array of glowing creatures covering his hair and clothes, Arthur just huffs fondly, and glances out of the open window. There's an odd sort of ... he's not sure what it is. It almost looks like a thin, golden snow, drifting lazily through the air outside his window. It's glowing, and in the dim twilight of the early evening, it's very noticeable. There are already crowds of young servants and townsfolk gathering underneath, chattering excitedly and pointing at the accidental magic display. Every now and again, Merlin sneezes, and a brilliant spark of turquoise flickers in the golden clouds.  

It's ... nice. 

"This is a pretty one," he says, motioning to the newest butterfly that appeared out of thin air to land on his wrist. Its delicate wings are unfurling gradually, wispy little petals of blue and gold. "What's its name?" 

Merlin, cocooned in at least four blankets, squints at the butterfly and thinks seriously for a few moments.

"Hm," he says. "It's called Arthur." 

"Like all of the other butterflies?" 

"Yep." 

"Seems like a common name." 

Merlin shrugs, and burrows deeper into his blankets.

"Who knows? Maybe I must have heard it somewhere before ..."

Gaius has long since returned to his quarters to rest for the night, so Arthur finds himself on Merlin Duty that night. After a few hours of brightly coloured magic clouds floating outside his bedroom window and at least a hundred and twenty magical butterflies spawning inside his room, Merlin's magic seems to have stabilised, and his deliriousness along with it. 

"It's getting late," Arthur notes, watching as Merlin yawns and rolls over again. "Something warm will help you sleep. Wait here, I'll go get something from the kitchens." 

Merlin frowns at that, and the green butterfly on Arthur's shoulder flutters its wings and fusses. 

"You said you'd stay where I can see you," he protests. "And besides, I thought you couldn't be seen running around the castle fetching things for your servant?" 

"You're Camelot's court sorcerer now. Did you forget?" 

"Not Camelot's." Merlin props himself up on his elbows, and grins widely. "Yours." 

Arthur has to physically turn his face away to hide the sudden flood of tenderness that overwhelms him. He's pretty sure his face is turning red, and he can't even bring himself to be embarrassed about it.

"Okay," he says, voice slightly muffled. "My sorcerer. Is that better?" 

Merlin hums contentedly, and Arthur melts.

A couple of minutes later, Arthur opens the door, having decided to just send a guard of nearby servant down to the kitchens in his stead (since Merlin was still unwilling to let him out of sight), and promptly nearly falls over in shock. 

He is expecting to see a largely empty corridor - it is nearly the middle of the night, after all - with maybe a few guards or haggard-looking servants rushing to complete nighttime chores. He isn't expecting to see what must be nearly four hundred people cramming every available space in the tower. It is a bizarre mix of people - he can recognise some guards, a couple of young knights, hundreds of servants, merchants, stablehands, random townsfolk, young children, and he swears he sees one or two bandits that he's pretty sure should be locked up in the dungeon right now. They're all carrying various packages, healing potions, blankets, snacks, and food, and when they hear the door open they all turn to face him at once.

Arthur blinks rapidly, trying to take in the sight.

"Uh -"

The crowd instantly rises and surges towards him, talking over each other in a flurry of voices.

"Sire! We heard that Merlin was ill, is he okay?"

"Is it serious? It's not serious, right? The poor boy -"

"He works so hard all the time, it's no wonder he's fallen ill -"

"You'll let him take the day off, right? If there's any work, we can do it, we have free time, don't make Merlin work, sire -"

"We have lots of medicine here, sire! We, uh, don't really know what they do, but surely one of them will help, right?"

"It must be cold so high up in the castle, here's an extra blanket or twenty, sire, we have lots of spares -"

A tiny toddler who looks barely older than five years old pushes his way to the front of the crowd, and holds up a battered-looking doll. 

"I brought a friend for Merlin!" he chirps. "In case he's lonely!"

Arthur can already feel a slight headache coming on. 

In the end, it takes well over an hour to convince the crowd that Merlin was not, in fact, on death's doorstep, and that it was fine for them to go home and rest for the night. Arthur finally manages to catch a guard and ask him to bring something warm from the kitchen for Merlin, which he nearly falls down the stairs in haste to do, and comes back inside the room, where Merlin is doing a poor job of hiding his amusement.

"At this rate, won't you be able to achieve world domination or something?" he says half-jokingly. 

Merlin laughs, and clumsily pats Arthur on the shoulder.

"Don't worry," he says sleepily. "Camelot is yours forever. By the way, we should probably get on with fulfilling the rest of the prophecy at some point - uniting Albion and all that, right? Kilgharrah keeps flying into Camelot to remind me in the middle of the night - I swear I ordered him out of here, I don't know why he keeps coming back ..."

Arthur gently shoves Merlin over and sits down on the other side of the bed, adding another blanket to the already quite large pile that Merlin was buried under.

"Tomorrow," he promises. 

They fall asleep together before the guard arrives again, warm glass of milk in hand. 

...

"Oh, my god," the guard whispers to himself, when he arrives, nearly in tears at the heartwarming scene. The glass of warm milk sits forgotten on the bedside table. "That is - your highness - oh, that is just too cute. Oh, my god -"

It takes him a while to close the door and walk away. 

Chapter Text

These days, Arthur was thinking about banishing a certain man from Camelot. 

Merlin didn't seem to realise that Arthur was deadly serious about this.

"Oh, come on," he said, laughing, as he stole the grapes off Arthur's plate while using his magic to move the mop around the room. "He's not doing any harm. You wouldn't banish someone just because of your personal grudges, would you?" 

But unlike what Merlin thought, Arthur was one hundred percent, absolutely definitely considering banishing Lord Alexander from ever stepping foot in Camelot ever again. 

Sure, maybe Arthur hadn't managed to find out what sort of disastrous and evil plot the man was scheming behind his back (and there was a plot, he was sure of it - considering how many visiting lords and distant relatives had turned out to be sorcerers in disguise trying to kill him or his father and overthrow the kingdom, he could safely say it was, statistically speaking, far more likely that Lord Alexander was, in fact, an enemy) and maybe the only "crime" that the man had committed was somehow managing to sneak his name onto the guest list for that one masquerade ball that he held a while ago, but if he saw that person's face one more time, Arthur wasn't sure that he would be able to prevent himself from drawing his sword and running him through. So, technically, the banishment would be for his own good, not just Arthur's. 

At his silence, Merlin's smile dropped a little. 

"You're not actually serious, are you?" he said, suddenly worried. Arthur cast a sullen look out of the window, where he could see a certain noble in a conspicuous black cloak using a telescope to look in through his bedroom window, and sighed. 

"Of course not," he lied, and Merlin's face brightened and he started chattering about the gossip he had heard this morning from the kitchen maids. 

The thing was, Arthur really wasn't the kind of person to banish someone over personal grudges. He had seen first hand what could happen if a ruler let his emotions cloud his judgement (courtesy of his father, the late king) and had long since vowed to himself that he would be a fair ruler that would do what was best for his people, and treat everyone with the respect that they deserved, regardless of whether he hated them or not. So for the last, torturously long months, he sat back and pretended not to notice as a certain noble kept visiting the castle for "diplomatic reasons". 

(Annoyingly, Lord Alexander did have a legitimate reason for every visit, and even more irritatingly, his visits did seem to result in improved relations between the two parts of the kingdom and better trade contracts and communication. But that didn't mean that "diplomacy" was the only reason he visited, as far as Arthur was concerned.)

But this time, there really did seem to be something going on, and Arthur was absolutely certain that it wasn't just  his imagination. The excuse for visiting this time seemed rather weak - there had been no new trade negotiations that needed to be carried out, and no kingdom-wide events that required Lord Alexander's direct attention. He had simply turned up one day, said something about paying his respects to the king as a citizen of the kingdom should do regularly, and then never left. 

In fact, Lord Alexander had only spoken to Arthur about three times in the last month that he had been lurking around Camelot. That in itself was suspicious, seeing as if he really was here for "diplomatic reasons", the person he should be speaking to the most was Arthur, or at least his court advisors. When Arthur had asked his advisors, however, they did say that Lord Alexander had spoken to them on many an occasion - although they also said that it was not work-related, and they refused to tell him the details. 

So now not only was Arthur having to keep track of a potential spy in his own kingdom, but he also apparently had to be wary of spies within his own advisors. All in all, it was not turning out to be a very pleasant experience. 

When he confided his worries with Leon, his most trustworthy knight, Leon simply raised an eyebrow. 

"I'm not sure what you're worried about, sire," he said, as Arthur stared at him in shock and betrayal. "Lord Alexander has proved himself to be a loyal servant of Camelot. And as for your advisors - well, if they didn't talk about work-related issues, then they would have likely talked about personal topics with him, so it's no wonder they refuse to tell you, the king." 

"But they're not telling me anything," Arthur stressed. "At least they could have - I don't know, hinted at a general topic? They're not even bothering to try and hide the fact that they're being so suspicious!" 

"Suspicious? Of your court advisors? My, my, what a dangerous thing for a king to say!" 

Arthur jumped as Gwaine descended on them both with his sword buckled upside down to his belt and a flask of mead in his hand (good god, had he carried that all the way from the lower town? Arthur made a mental note to himself to make sure that Gwaine returned it to whatever tavern he had taken it from). 

"Gwaine? Wait, do you know something about this?" 

Gwaine looked at him questioningly, which was an alarming sign because if even Gwaine knew something, that meant Arthur was really out of the loop.

"Yeah, has no-one told you? That Lord Alexander guy, he ..." 

Arthur waited as Gwaine trailed off, an uneasy feeling creeping over him as a dawning look of realisation slowly spread over Gwaine's face. That was never a good sign. 

"He what, Gwaine?" 

"... never mind. Forget I said anything. Hey, Sir Leon, why don't you come with me for a minute? While you're at it, let's round up the rest of the gang too, I have something to tell them -" 

"What? Wait, Gwaine, Leon, where are you going? You haven't told me about -" 

After that strange incident, all of his knights refused to talk to him about Lord Alexander, which only made Arthur more suspicious. 

If he were to be honest, the fact that his knights seemed to have unanimously agreed to keep their silence did actually lessen his worries to some extent - his court advisors and the inexplicable Lord Alexander were one thing, but he was absolutely confident in his knights' loyalty, and the fact that they didn't seem too bothered did seem to suggest that there was no actual danger here. 

But there was no way that Arthur was ever saying that out loud, to anyone, so he resigned himself to conducting his own solo investigation into the strange matters of the visiting lord. 

Even Merlin seemed to be in on it, whatever this "it" was. 

"How's your investigation going?" he asked one afternoon, as Arthur was whacking the training dummies without thinking much about his actual swordsmanship. "I heard from Elyan that you've taken the old fashioned approach of tailing Lord Alexander?" 

Arthur missed the training dummy and went sprawling onto the grass field. 

"Wait," he spluttered, spitting out the grass in his mouth. "You know, too?" 

Merlin beamed at him, and for a moment Arthur forgot to be mad because wow, his smile was beautiful - then he remembered, and quickly scowled. 

"You're all doing that thing again, aren't you?" he complained as Merlin crouched down next to him and started brushing the dirt off his armour. "When the entire kingdom knows something except for me?" 

"A little bit, yeah," said Merlin unapologetically. "Don't worry, though, it's completely harmless! I promise nobody is in any actual danger." 

"Except for me and my blood pressure," Arthur mumbled. Merlin paused, looking at him curiously.

"What's blood pressure?" 

Arthur faltered, suddenly frowning. 

"That ... I don't actually know. I heard Lord Alexander saying it, I think ... wait, what is blood pressure ...?" 

As the days went by, Arthur gave up on trying to wheedle information out of his traitor friends and took it upon himself to do some investigating. 

And the things he discovered ... really made no sense whatsoever. 

Firstly, he was absolutely certain that Lord Alexander was attempting to spy on him. Or to be precise, him and Merlin. 

He just had no idea why. 

The man seemed to be as clumsy as Merlin as he tried to sneak through the castle corridors after Arthur. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep a straight face as he walked regally through the corridors with the sounds of occasional thumps and the clattering of a falling basket of cutlery or the startled yelps of servants as they collided with the person who was very obviously failing to be discreet. Arthur would go out hunting and pretend not to hear the extra set of footsteps behind him, or the whinny of a horse that definitely wasn't his, and he had taken to keeping his bedchamber's windows' curtains drawn because every morning he would see a mysterious figure in a black robe that stood out starkly against the green grass, struggling to use a telescope. 

It was almost as if he wanted to let Arthur know that he was being spied on - or at the very least, he didn't care whether Arthur knew or not. But then what was the point of his suspicious actions? 

Secondly, when Arthur decided to give the man a taste of his own medicine and tail him/ back, the only things he managed to uncover only served to confuse him more. 

Lord Alexander ... seemed to talk to himself a lot, for one. But more than that, he often talked about things that Arthur had never heard of before. Granted, he did come from a rather distant part of the kingdom, but Camelot was still Camelot no matter which side of the mountains they were on. If a random lord like Lord Alexander knew what a machine was, surely Arthur, the literal king, would have heard of it too. Unless it was some sort of regional dialect? 

"He might be a druid," Arthur mused, as he leaned over the top of the stable door (a safe distance away from where Lebryt was currently headbutting Merlin as he tried to fill up his water tray). "I've heard him talk to himself about talking to birds. How does a normal human "tweet", Merlin? I'm telling you, he's definitely up to something -"

"I ... don't actually know if druids can talk to birds," Merlin replied, after a moment's thought. "Huh. Now that I think about it, maybe I can? Wouldn't that be cool? I can send you a flock of nightingales to sing outside of your window to wake up up every morning." 

Arthur thought about waking up to a thousand birds screeching outside his window, and winced. 

"No thanks," he said. "I'd rather hear your voice." 

He only realised what he had said when Merlin stopped, looking up at him with a slightly surprised and embarrassed expression flitting over his face. 

"Aww," said Merlin, his face lighting up. "That's really sweet of you!" 

Ears burning, Arthur ducked under the stable door as Merlin laughed. 

In the end, as usual, Arthur only just managed to scratch the surface of the mystery before his time ran out and it was revealed. 

He'd half made up his mind to simply grab his knights and corner the man to confront him directly about it, and he had almost went through with it too, if it wasn't for the bard who came crashing through the gates of his castle that morning.

"Sire!" said the bard happily, bowing so deeply he nearly kneed himself in the face. "What a pleasure it is to see you again! I hope you have been well?" 

Arthur involuntarily took a step back at the excessively enthusiastic greeting, and cleared his throat. He recognised the bard after a few moments - they had been a guest at that one disastrous masquerade ball a few months ago. He involuntarily glanced at Merlin, who was standing next to him, and blushed, coughing again.

"Um," he said. "Yes? What are you doing here, though?" 

At that, the bard's smile froze. 

"Oh, my goodness," he said. "I forgot to tell you, sire." 

"Tell me what?" 

"I am working on an epic masterpiece! It will be a song that will be sung for generations, passed down for centuries and preserving the tales of adventure, betrayal, glory, and above all, love, ensuring that the name of Camelot, and Emrys and the Once and Future King, are bestowed upon our descendants and not forgotten for many aeons to come!" 

Arthur struggled to process those words for a few moments. 

"So," he said slowly, "you're writing a song ... about Camelot?" 

"About you specifically, sire! Of course, the chief focus was intended to be the deep and profound relationship between you and your warlock - old-fashioned epic poems are still sung in taverns today, but if you want to attract a decent audience, there's nothing better than a good hearty romance to spice things up -" 

Besides him, Merlin made a funny choking noise.

"'Spice things up' -?" 

Twisting his hands anxiously, the bard looked around. 

"I do apologise, sire, it had slipped my mind entirely to inform you that I had requested the noble Lord Alexander's help me with compiling enough relevant information to, ah, inspire my work -" 

Something finally clicked in Arthur's mind, and he raised a hand. The bard instantly shut up. 

"Wait. You're the reason why that buffoon has been following me around for the past months? Why he's been trying to look into my bedroom window at the crack of dawn every day? And tailing after me on every hunt I go on? And talking to my court advisors behind my back? Hold on, is this why all of the knights are avoiding - Merlin, don't tell me you knew, too?" 

Unapologetically, Merlin shrugged and grinned. 

"I really did forget to tell you at first," he admitted, as Arthur stared at him in betrayal. "But then I realised it was funny watching you try and figure out whether Alexander was doing ... sorry, I'll tell you next time, I promise." 

Arthur squawked, "What 'next time'?" 

Merlin laughed, and as they started bickering again, the bard, who had been completely forgotten about, gleefully watched the spectacle while furiously writing in his notebook and clutching his lute.

"I guess I won't banish him after all," Arthur grumbled, lowering his voice enough for it to be inaudible over the din of the feast except to Merlin, who was leaning over his shoulder. Merlin, in response, snorted and stole the wine goblet out of his hands to take a sip. 

"It's a nice change for a suspicious person running around the castle to not be an enemy sorcerer trying to kill us and take over Camelot. Don't you think?" 

Arthur looked at the scene in front of him. It was a feast, but somewhere along the line the normal noble etiquette and formalities had completely melted away. Gwaine was shrieking with laughter while slapping a very drunk and half asleep Lancelot on the back, Leon was staggering off to the side while attempting to use his sword to keep himself upright, and Elyan and Guinevere were taking turns trying to throw grapes into Percival's mouth from across the table. On the other side of the hall, the bard was shredding on his lute violently, red faced and singing far louder than Arthur thought was humanly possible, with Lord Alexander dancing a strange jig that involved raising both arms at an angle in a move that he vaguely recalled him calling "the dab". 

"It's not bad, I guess," said Arthur, fighting to keep the corners of his lips from twitching up. Seeing his expression, Merlin beamed, gulping down another mouthful of his wine before turning to kiss him. It tasted like the wine he just had, but somehow, at the same time, a lot sweeter.

"Ugh," said Lord Alexander, collapsing into a chair, out of breath after having accompanied the bard for the last five performances of his song. "I'm so tired." 

"You had some nice moves, mate," said Gwaine cheerfully. "Hey, I know that the job the bard gave you is finished, but if you ever need some juicy stories about his highness and Merlin for whatever reason, come to Camelot, yeah?" 

Lord Alexander raised an eyebrow, and brightly replied, "I'll be sure to take you up on it, Sir Gwaine."

As the bard launched into his sixth rendition of "The Epic Tales of Love and Dragons (The Adventures and Misadventures of His Royal Highness King Arthur of Camelot, the Once and Future King and the Last Dragonlord and Most Powerful Warlock to Ever Exist, Emrys: How the Relationship Between a King and his Manservant Eventually Blossomed Into Something More Deep and Profound that History had Ever Seen)", Lord Alexander snagged an apple from a nearby plate and bit into it, letting out a nostalgic sigh.

"Gods, if Youtube was still around, this would have been such a hit ..."

"Pardon?"

"Ah, it's nothing."