It had started with the bath water. Okay, so it might have been a tad hot; it wasn't news worthy, it hadn't hurt anyone. Well, it had hurt Arthur, but that didn't count for anything, now did it?

But then there was the incident with the chain mail that had corroded when Merlin forgot to stop cleaning it by magic, having fallen asleep. He'd been put in the stocks for a week for being "an inconceivably incompetent servant".

Of course, that wasn't the worst of it. There was that time at the ball the following week where he might have accidentally on purpose set the visiting Lord's daughter's dress on fire. He hadn't known it would be so flammable! Luckily the only thing that insufferable wench had suffered was a little bit of embarrassment, when her undergarments were exposed.

Merlin hadn't even got in trouble for it. But he knew, Gaius suspected, Arthur was (quietly) relieved at the distraction and Morgana just found it plain funny. He couldn't help himself, though. That wench had been sitting next to Arthur and would have been in his lap if the chair had allowed for it, flirting shamelessly with him, rubbing her ample bosom up against his arm and she'd smacked Merlin in the face with her hair as she flicked it over her shoulder on several occasions. He'd been pouring Arthur's wine at the time and he was sure she'd done it on purpose, so he wasn't as sorry about the incident as he probably should have been.

It didn't end there though. A long string of seemingly harmless or mildly dangerous incidents littered the last few months alarmingly. From silly, somewhat harmful accidents (mostly to himself) and too many near misses that had him sighing in relief at the inattentiveness of the guards to one extremely serious run-in that he'd been sure would have seen him dead by a group of bandits that had happened upon him while he'd been 'gathering herbs'.

There wasn't any particular event that caused it; it was just the sudden realisation that the magic was the cause of all his recent troubles. He remembered back to when he first moved here. His fight with Arthur in the market, Gwen's father, Nimueh, the more recent incident with that woman in the forest with the smoke. He was even beginning to believe Uther's hated rhetoric about the evil of magic. That more than anything made up his mind.

Finally Merlin would truly heed Gaius' many warnings. He'd do the sensible thing, the safe thing, the thing that wouldn't get him killed. He'd have to stop. No more magic.

It was a heavy ultimatum and one he didn't take to greatly; it was like he'd be denying a part of himself and the thought made him uneasy, but it had reached a point where someone had almost gone to the executioner's block in his stead. He couldn't let that happen.

So this was it. The last day where he recklessly used his magic.

The next day dawned and it was the first thought that sprang to mind - no more magic.

With a muted grunt, Merlin pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing tiredly at his face with his shirt sleeve. The feeble light filtering through the tiny grated window let him know it was not yet dawn and the cool draft warned him to wear an extra shirt today. It was nearing winter, which meant that Arthur was getting in as much hunting as he could before the court would be confined to the indoors for the worst of the weather. Merlin couldn't wait till that happened. At least then he'd no longer have to lug all of the Prince's weaponry and prizes around a muddy forest for much longer.

Then again, knowing Arthur, he'd find some equally wearying task for him to complete indoors, lord knew there were plenty of those around.

The faint sounds of movement within the courtyard filtered in from outside; the sleepy movements of servants going about their chores, stall-keepers setting up for the long day ahead, the braying of the pack mules. Well, he was awake, people were already moving about and it was a new day. Merlin pulled his trousers on while remaining seated on the edge of the bed, falling onto his back and squirming his hips to pull them up. He rubbed at his face and stared up at the ceiling, idly noticing all the spider webs that draped the corners. With a yawn he pulled himself back into a sitting position and slipped into his boots, lethargically buckling the straps before standing, snagging a clean shirt from the pile in the corner and discarding his night-shirt to its proper place - the floor.

For a change, Gaius was still sleeping, snoring like a rock giant on his cot. Merlin grinned lopsidedly and let the man sleep, picking up an apple from the cluttered table as he passed. Shutting the door gently behind him, he made his way across the courtyard, quietly enjoying the brisk morning air and the crunchy apple, greeting those he passed with a congenial nod.

His first trip was to the kitchens, where after finishing his apple and flirting with the sleepy cook, made his way through a warm bowl of honey sweetened porridge. Once he was done, he picked up breakfast for his master and made his way to his chambers.

It was when he'd reached the door that it even crossed his mind that he'd managed the path without tripping, dropping the food or taking a wrong turn. He let the realisation sit for a moment, his hand held on the door handle, briefly, before he quietly pushed it open and set up the breakfast on the table.

He could see Arthur's slumbering figure from a gap between the curtains and tried his best not to wake him. Lord knows Arthur was a grump enough in the mornings without further encouragement.

The chill of the flagstones wormed its way up through Merlin's thin, worn out boots, sending a chill up his spine.

"A fire," Merlin murmured beneath his breath and stirred up the still glowing embers with the poker and heaped on a few more logs to coax the fire to build and bare its warmth. Lucky Prat. He didn't have a fireplace in his room; had to solely rely on the feeble protection of his blankets, which were just as threadbare as his clothes. Right now it was enough but he could see himself in a months time joining Gaius in the main room where at least there would be a fire.

Once done, Merlin dusted his hands off on his pants and moved the food from the table to the much smaller one closer to the fire to keep it warm then went about drawing the curtains. The sun was finally making its appearance, gilding the hills with a soft golden light and turning the sky pink. Today there were no great clouds to spoil the view and there was something, crisp, fresh and new about the morning that had Merlin breathing in contentedly.

The sound of sheets rustling drew his attention as Arthur slid to the edge of his bed, spreading the curtain's wide, then wincing when the morning light hit his unaccustomed eyes.

"Merlin?" Arthur yelped in shock. Merlin smiled and turned to face Arthur, looking on him almost fondly in his rumpled state.

"Good Morning, Sire," he greeted before he made his way to the table and poured water for the Prince.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur asked thickly, his voice roughened by sleep and incredulity.

"Sire?"

"What are you doing awake?"

Merlin shrugged his shoulders. "I brought your breakfast."

Arthur eyed him suspiciously, giving him a wide berth as he approached the table, looking at Merlin askance as he took his seat. Merlin held in a chuckle of amusement. Who knew that simply turning up on time could unsettle the Prince?

Arthur poked at his food with the fork apprehensively before taking a cautious bite. Not only was it still warm but it was also fresh, something that he'd only experienced on occasions when another servant had to cover Merlin's duties. Encouraged, Arthur began to wolf his meal down and left his questions till he was well full.

Once he was finished, he wiped his mouth on the napkin and threw it atop the scraps on his plate, folded his arms over his stomach and turned to glare at Merlin who was currently fluffing his pillows and straightening the sheets.

"Okay, spit it out, what are you planning?" Arthur demanded. Merlin stopped what he was doing and favoured the monarch with a raised brow.

"I'm not planning anything, Sire?" Merlin half-asked, looking around uncertainly, wondering whether he was supposed to have been planning something.

"And why do you keep calling me Sire?" Arthur's voice was slightly raised this time and he was still eyeing Merlin like he'd produce a knife and run him through if he didn't watch out.

"Because so far today you haven't merited me calling you a prat," Merlin answered with a grin. "Yet," he added after a moments pause. Arthur scowled and ignored him. Instead he rose to his feet and began stripping from his night-clothes, discarding them on the floor as he moved towards the screen and the clothes that Merlin had set out for him.

"Are you sure you're feeling well, Merlin?" Arthur asked, his voice muffled from behind the screen.

"I feel fine, Arthur. Is it so strange for me to be up this early?"

Arthur poked his head out from behind the screen, the red shirt bunched up around his neck. "You did not just ask that, did you? Honestly, Merlin, I don't think you've ever been on time in your life."

Arthur pulled back behind the screen a moment before appearing fully dressed in his long sleeved red shirt, his heavy woollen brown pants, carrying a pair of fur-lined black boots in his hands. They were a worn, scuffed pair that was fading to a soft brown along the creases and they were his favourite pair for this sort of weather.

Merlin had picked up the strewn about clothes and was depositing them in the linen basket to take to the laundry later on when he appeared. Merlin was always somewhat surprised whenever he saw Arthur for the first time each day. He carried his self-confidence and pride like an invisible cloak; you could have dressed him up in rags and he'd still look regal. It was breath-stopping and also humbling to think that he served such a man, was maybe even friends with him.

Arthur sat down on the edge of his bed and pulled on his boots over stockinged feet and stood, hands on hips. "Guess what we're doing today, Merlin," he said.

Merlin rolled his eyes at the prince but played along. "Are we going hunting, Arthur?"

"Ooh, sharp and awake. Are you certain that you're feeling well today?" Arthur teased.

"I suppose that remains to be seen. I'll go get the equipment together...Unless there's anything else you need?"

"Not right now. Off you go, Merlin, I want to be out of here before midday."

"Of course," Merlin left the room without so much as a by-your-leave. It wouldn't be good if Arthur got too used to deferential treatment.

The hunt went...well. By the end, the knights and their Prince were looking at Merlin with equal measures of suspicion; he hadn't tripped, stumbled, frightened the game or accidently hit Arthur in the face with his crossbow or anything! Some were quite disappointed. Watching the interaction between Arthur and his manservant was a sport in itself and infinitely entertaining.

They brought down a stag that day, plus three hares and a fox and were back in Camelot as the sun drifted below the horizon, dropping the world into the indigo's and soft tones of twilight. Merlin was in good spirits even though he was laden down with the smaller game while his mare carried the stag strung over its back and his mood was contagious. The knights laughed and joked with one another and Galahad even helped Merlin take the food to the stores, which had Merlin looking at him strangely though he was grateful all the same.

Of course, the day didn't end there. Arthur was waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the sky to come crashing down, or the paintings to start bleeding from their eyes because - inconceivable as it was - Merlin was being, dare he say it, almost helpful. That moment never came. After an uneventful dinner where he did not have food spilled in his lap or his head hit by the wine pitcher when Merlin poured his drinks, he went to bed unsettled.

Merlin was still buoyed up by the relative success of the day. He hadn't thought that he'd have been able to handle all the chores that Arthur normally landed him with, but things just sort of...fell into place. He even had the energy to help Gaius perform a late-night birth in the lower village. Sitting downstairs and sharing a warm tankard of mulled wine, Merlin proudly related the success of his day.

"...It's been unbelievable. Nothing went wrong. Things went so smoothly you would have thought it was magic, but that's the thing! I haven't used any since last night, not at all," Merlin announced enthusiastically.

Gaius raised a weary eyebrow and glared balefully at the still jubilant boy. "I think you've had enough wine, Merlin."

Merlin was momentarily affronted but just grinned and retired to his room to give his guardian some peace. He pulled one of the random medical texts that Gaius had stored in his room and climbed into bed, using the feeble light of the candle by his bedside to read the words. He wasn't necessarily interested but he wasn't quite ready for bed, though must have fallen asleep at some point.

The next thing he knew was waking with the candle a lumpy pool in its dish and the book on his chest, some of the pages crumpled.

He practically sprang from the bed, his day starting fresh and new and so vibrant that Merlin felt like singing or dancing or playing with the town children. He had to rein in his enthusiasm though and go about his duties.

Merlin looked to the small patch of sky he could see from his window and stopped, somewhat worried. There were still stars hovering determinedly in the sky, their light feeble and waning. There was a silence about the whole castle that haunted the wee hours like this. Cautiously he crept from his room and through Gaius' workspace then made his way to the stables.

Not wanting to wake the stable boy, he occupied himself with doing a few quiet tasks, mending the tack and oiling the leathers. It had him busy till the first cock-crow when he moved on to the larger tasks. He changed the water in the troughs and found fresh bags of oats for the horses. A part of him could sense the curious eyes of the stable boy whose head barely peaked over the hayloft but he paid him little mind, humming quietly under his breath as he first mucked out the stables before taking a quick wash, then went back to brush down the horses, paying particular attention to Arthur's stallion, Caesar, who he'd come to an understanding with. At first the two hadn't got on at all. Caesar would tread on his feet as he went about saddling him, flick him with his tail and bite harshly at fingers that got in close enough range. He'd swallow air so the saddle would not be fitted correctly for his Master to ride (therefore landing Merlin in hot water) and Caesar had always managed to shit right where Merlin would walk or urinate as Merlin was grooming him, splashing piss on his boots.

Merlin had taken to bribing Caesar with carrots, oats, molasses and the occasional apple and it had all helped to sort out their relationship. It did mean extra groomings for the proud animal and the other horses did sometimes get jealous. Merlin was only glad that his own mount understood him; Persephone was an even tempered mare, very understanding and very forgiving as well as patient. He'd been a terrible rider when he first started, but Arthur had wisely picked a more mature horse to carry him. He was grateful, truly that that was the case; Arthur wasn't always a prat and little things like that proved it.

Though he was sort-of-almost friends with Caesar they still had one line that Merlin wouldn't cross - he didn't ride him, Caesar didn't bite him. The only exception was if Merlin rode pillion to the Prince and that had only happened but rarely and Caesar had behaved well enough in the presence of Arthur but had nipped Merlin's hand (though only warningly) to remind him that it wasn't to become habit.

That was fine with Merlin. Caesar was a giant. At the moment, Caesar was lipping his hair almost affectionately as he ran the brush down his powerful neck. Merlin laughed as the whiskers tickled his ear and gently rubbed Caesar's nose, ready to pull away if needed.

But even Caesar was co-operating today and Merlin was inwardly labelling it as a good sign for the day. He spent a half hour fawning over his own horse before he made his way to the kitchen, washing off in a nearby storm barrel, the water icy and refreshing, turning his cheeks a rosy pink.

Merlin didn't bother too much with pleasantries this time, just gave a polite nod to the kitchen staff then made his way quickly to Arthur's bedchambers. He'd dallied a little longer at the stable than he'd intended to and didn't want to incur Arthur's ire after the pleasant day he'd enjoyed yesterday.

He pushed open the door almost at the same moment that Arthur threw open his curtains, mid yawn and they both stared at one another, Merlin from the doorway and Arthur from his place on the edge of his bed. Arthur's eyebrows shot up into his messy golden locks and he made a show of rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

"And I thought yesterday was a fluke," the Prince commented dryly. Merlin shook himself and just offered up a harmless little smile before placing the tray of food on the table.

"Miracles do happen," Merlin muttered sagely.

But it wasn't a fluke. Miracle yes, fluke no. Every morning that week, Arthur woke to find his breakfast waiting, a fire crackling merrily in the fireplace and his clothes for the day laid out near the screen with a set of polished boots by the end of his bed. Sometimes Merlin was there and sometimes it was just a note explaining where he'd run off to. It was getting more and more difficult for Arthur to assign any daily tasks to Merlin since he seemed to have already done the chores before Arthur knew they needed doing. A lot of their conversations ran like,

"I need you to mend my boots-"

"Already done, Sire,"

"Er. right...my armour-"

"Polished this morning."

"My dogs?"

"In the exercise yard. I'll be down shortly to put them back in the kennel, but Galahad's squire is keeping an eye on them for the time being."

"Right, well, yes...good..."

"Anything else, Sire?"

"Well, you only cleaned my chambers yesterday, so I can't exactly make you do that. Um...You can help me with training today."

"Do I have to?"

"Of course!"

Of course. Arthur should have somehow known better. Merlin wasn't acting any stranger than normal. In fact, his performance in his duties was improving with alarming rapidity and that in itself should have been a give away. They'd practised alone together and things were headed as they normally did when Merlin was suddenly dodging hits, slithering out of the way like a seasoned professional instead of the bumbling servant he had been up until a few days ago. He even dared a couple of tentative strikes that Arthur easily deflected but was still amazed at. And. He. Just. Wouldn't. Stop. They'd been at it for 2 hours and Arthur was weary on his feet, but Merlin was still bouncing around, maybe not eager, but still excited about not being knocked to the ground for a change.

Arthur reasoned that maybe Merlin was in love; he seemed to get on famously with a lot of the people here, especially the serving girls and the kitchen staff so it wouldn't have been a surprise. When Arthur questioned him about it, Merlin had looked at him like he was barmy and just shook his head, amusement glinting in his eyes and that smile nearly tearing his face in two. Altogether Merlin had been too energetic and too...happy to be normal.

Without any serious problems, incidents or complaints, there really wasn't much that he could do about the situation but Arthur tried to just wait out the whirlwind that Merlin had become. Everyone else seemed to dismiss his even more unique behaviour, passing it off as youth, an eagerness to please or Merlin simply "growing out of his puppy stage". Arthur remained worried for his friend and manservant.

It was another four days before anyone else seemed to become concerned for Merlin.

They were at a banquet to celebrate the arrival of the nobles to court for the winter and the warm mead was flowing freely, people were feeling festive and the weather outside was positively miserable. The wind shrieked through gaps in shutters and wove its sneaky way beneath the layers of clothing and swept down certain corridors with a howl, tugging at the hems of cloaks, coats and dresses. The days were shorter and crops were slowly starting to freeze.

The main formalities were well over and done with and right now everyone was sharing a cup of congeniality and combined body heat, but it didn't touch Arthur. His attention was firmly fixed on his manservant who was standing sentinel with a pitcher of mulled wine in hand, a pleasantly blank expression adorning his face.

"Sire, I must have a word with you." Arthur jumped and quickly looked over his shoulder, surprised by Gaius' sudden appearance.

He waited till his heart sank back into his ribcage, treating Gaius - friend though he was - with an indignant glare. "Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid it is a matter of quite some urgency," Gaius replied solemnly. Arthur took one last glance around the room. Around the room, mind you. He was not focusing on one particular corner, where one certain servant stood. He gestured with a nod for Gaius to follow and stepped out of the Great Hall and into a small antechamber to the right of the door. Once settled in, Arthur turned to Gaius, his arms crossed against his chest.

"It's about Merlin, Sire. I'm beginning to worry about him," Gaius said. Arthur's ears pricked at the name and suddenly all his attention was on the old physician.

"What about Merlin?"

Gaius looked off to the side uncertainly before continuing. "He doesn't...sleep in your chambers does he?"

The question was unexpected and Arthur reeled suddenly from the abruptness of it. "No, of course not. What makes you ask?"

"I was hoping that you'd have told me otherwise," Gaius responded wryly with a humourless chuckle. "I'm sure you've noticed that Merlin has been quite...punctual of late. Initially I thought he was just getting a good night's rest and was able to pull himself from bed early but lately he's been staying up late, poring over manuscripts or cleaning or doing small chores, like mending tack. At first I was suspicious of the behaviour, but saw nothing sinister in it. Merlin has been in such a good mood of late."

Arthur huffed. He'd been like a child at a festival this whole last fortnight, it had almost become insufferable.

"Then I noticed that his room is spotless, his bed is made and it hasn't been slept in. Not once in the last three days." Arthur's eyebrows disappeared beneath his fringe. This was a new development. However, Gaius was not finished.

"I also haven't seen him eat much and yet he's still burning with energy." Arthur let his gaze wander to a tapestry to the left of Gaius' head and mulled over these new revelations.

"I'll confront him about it," he said aloud. He didn't miss the instant rush of relief that overcame Gaius and a part of him, a selfish part that he'd rather deny existed, was envious of the relationship between the two. His father rarely showed that kind of concern for him.

"Thank you, Sire, if you would excuse me," Gaius bowed then left, heading in the direction of his quarters, Arthur followed him out into the hall but instead returned to the great hall. He waited until Merlin looked up and he gestured to him to follow him, mouthing, "My chamber. Now." Merlin nodded his understanding and passed his pitcher to a servant that wandered by.

Arthur stalked off without waiting for Merlin to catch up with him. Before he'd even reached the door, he was untying his cloak only to dump it on the nearest chair, pulling his shirt free and loosening the string at the front.

He turned as he heard the soft click of the door snapping shut. Merlin stood, looking uncertain and wary and seemed to be vibrating on the spot. Arthur stalked closer to him and examined him closely, noting the heavy black bruises beneath his bloodshot eyes and the pallid turn to his already pale complexion. Merlin's lips were dry and chapped, though his clothes were unusually smoothed and smelled of fresh soap, something that Merlin normally didn't have the time or luxury to allow for.

"Merlin, take a seat," Arthur ordered sternly before he turned and collapsed into his own. Like a startled animal, Merlin slowly made his way over, and sank in to the chair in a manner that suggested he thought it would bite him if he made any sudden moves.

"What's up, Arthur?" Merlin asked casually, that sweet smile plastered on his face, but it was tense at the edges. His eyes darted to and fro and his knees bounced in an endless rhythm as his hands twitched compulsively in his lap. On noticing the target of Arthur's stare, Merlin tucked his hand's beneath his thighs and sat in silence, waiting for Arthur to get whatever it was off his chest.

"Gaius tells me you haven't been sleeping," Arthur stated. Merlin's eyes slid off to the side, refusing to meet Arthur's as he shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, it's not like I'm tired or anything. There's just so much stuff to do and there really aren't enough hours in the day and did you know there are 27 bones in the human hand? I read it in this anatomy book that Gaius has only I don't think that anyone could know without actually you know cutting someone's hands open and it made me think what else scientist's study and there are some really disturbing manual's in Gaius office I know for a fact that I wouldn't want to be a surgeon or a scientist I just couldn't possibly do that you know? Cutting open people to see what they're made of-"

"Merlin."

"-then there's animals too! I know you like hunting but I just couldn't imagine doing that to an animal, ever, turned me off eating meat, that did but I-"

"Merlin..."

"-started chatting to the night cook and he showed me how to prepare the hares that we caught andInearlythrewuponhimbuttha tmanisaculinarygeniusthat-"

"Merlin!" Arthur shouted, lurching forward in his chair. Merlin stopped. "Breathe, Merlin, just breathe."

He eyed Arthur strangely before sucking in a breath slowly, his face returning to a more normal colour. The room soaked up the sudden quiet and Arthur passed a relieved hand over his brow.

"I'm going to make this extremely simple, Merlin. I will ask a yes or no question and you will answer it. That's not too difficult is it? Just nod or shake your head. No talking!" Arthur cautioned.

Merlin nodded, his mouth pressed into a thin line and his eyes wide, like a deer caught in a hunter's sight.

"Have you been sleeping, Merlin?" A shake of the head.

"Have you eaten in the last 12 hours?" Another negative.

"Have you eaten at all today?" A pause, then another head-shake.

"Are you feeling well?" A nod. It was Arthur's turn to pause. He stared at Merlin till the boy looked away, his feet continued to bounce, up and down, faster and faster. Arthur reached out a steadying hand and placed it firmly on Merlin's knee.

"Merlin, I'm ordering you to take the next three days off. I am ordering you to get some sleep, eat a proper meal and take a god forsaken rest. You look exhausted, you're worrying Gaius and you aren't any good to me in this state. I'll write a note for Gaius instructing him to make a sleeping potion for you if he sees fit. If I hear you've been doing any work, for me, for Gaius, or for some random villager, I won't hesitate to put you in the cells, am I understood?"

Merlin's face turned from startled rabbit to raging storm through the duration of Arthur's ultimatum till he was glaring fiercely at his prince.

"I told you, I'm fine," he argued.

Arthur stood and swiftly dragged Merlin to his feet, ignoring his cries of protest as he stood him in front of the mirror, one hand firmly gripping him by the nape of the neck, the other secured tightly around his upper arm.

"Look at yourself, Merlin! You're moments away from collapse, you're shivering constantly, your eyes are bloodshot and skin is paler than normal and you're acting stranger than usual! Stop denying it! Go! Get some sleep, for heaven's sake!"

Merlin's reflection looked shell-shocked. A fragile, pale hand came up to trace the bruises beneath his eyes and he stared, wide eyed like he'd never seen himself before. Absently he nodded his head in agreement, his eyes haunted and unblinking.

Arthur quickly scrawled the note to Gaius and sent Merlin on his way. Hoping that this, at least would return his servant to as close a proximity to normal that Merlin ever got.

What was going wrong? Things had started off so well, they'd continued to run smoothly and Merlin was feeling for the first time in his life his own worth beyond the stigma of being 'gifted' with a magic he couldn't share. He'd really thought he'd been doing good but the glimpse of that haggard stranger in the mirror was frightening. He'd been unrecognisable to himself and he was scared. Beyond scared. Suddenly it felt like there was a presence at his back, a hostile ghost or a shade or maybe it was Death. Whatever it was, it had him practically running back home and right to Gaius with the note.

His guardian read it through quietly before producing a bottle from his robes. "I was going to suggest this to you myself," Gaius murmured, his tone warm, familial. Merlin smiled gratefully but said nothing, just accepted the tonic, which he downed the moment he stepped into his room. He crashed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling.

Right now...all he wanted, was his mother. She'd know exactly how to help him. It didn't matter that it was an illogical thought; like any time he'd ever been sick, she was the one he wanted most. The only one who made him feel like things would work out.

Slowly his eyes drifted shut, even as his consciousness fought the potion's affects. In the end, the potion won.

And that's when the fun truly began.