A/N: This is set in some mysterious timeline where Uther's fine and Morgana's not like super evil yet but the knights (including Mordred) are all here somehow bc I wanted them in this fic
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Morgana smirked to herself. It was going to be a great day. She'd already planned it all out—it was important to be prepared, after all. First, she was going to dress in an ostentatious cloak and high heels (though impractical, it would simply not do to conduct any Evil Affairs™ without properly elegant and dramatic footwear). Then, she was going to invade Camelot and take the throne for herself.
Now, the layperson may think that said plan was slightly bereft of details and might have benefited from a little more thought, but they would be incorrect. It was a perfect plan—nay, the perfect plan, and there was absolutely nobody who could stop her.
Not this time.
Hopefully.
Except maybe Merlin.
Still, however, she was confident that, with the element of surprise on her side, he wouldn't stand a chance. Sure, he had magic, but he was nothing special, particularly when compared to her. It wasn't like he was Emrys or anything.
A wicked smile on her lips, Morgana strode to her dresser.
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Merlin yawned, stretching his arms over his head. He'd stayed up for most of the night practicing a spell that was supposed to create a shield around him that would absorb any opponent's attack and reflect it back, but he couldn't exactly test it, seeing as how he had nobody to throw things at him (Arthur would probably be happy to oblige, but he was sleeping so Merlin hadn't asked). He'd barely slept, and so was very exhausted and not looking forward to doing chores.
Sighing, he rolled out of bed and trudged out of his room to face the day. Arthur was supposed to meet with his father in the throne room in a few hours and it fell to Merlin to ensure that the prince was properly attired for the occasion. Merlin idly wondered if he would one day discover the reason that nobles were incapable of dressing themselves.
Casting the thought aside with a sigh, he headed towards the kitchens to pick up Arthur's breakfast.
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This was progressing exactly as expected, Uther lamented. Now, he wasn't so foolish as to go into this meeting with high hopes (or any hopes at all, really), but he was nevertheless disappointed, though unsurprised. Arthur was still demanding to be allowed embark upon some foolish quest or another, one which would undoubtedly end with grievous bodily harm to several knights and quite possibly to Arthur himself.
The worst part was that Arthur would go no matter what, despite the forbidden nature of the quest. Once he made up his mind about something, no amount of reasoning, logic, or threats would make him back down. Uther was self-aware enough to acknowledge that Arthur had received quite a bit of that trait from him, though Ygraine was not faultless either. Her stubbornness was the reason that Camelot's national bird was a toucan, despite them not living there. Uther would never understand her love for a bird that she'd only ever read about, but her persistence had yielded results.
At least Arthur hadn't inherited her ornithological inclinations, he thought as his son continued to rant about why he should be allowed to leave the city and risk his life in order to fight a creature that Uther was at least sixty-five percent certain didn't exist.
He was almost grateful when Morgana suddenly appeared in a whirlwind of smoke, wearing a bright red cloak and heels so high that Uther was moderately concerned that she would break an ankle.
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Morgana tossed some balls of fire at the occupants of the throne room to test the waters. She had deliberated over what exactly to open the attack with; obviously it needed to be something elegant and badass, but at the same time not so powerful as to obliterate everyone instantly. After all, it wouldn't be any fun to end the confrontation so quickly.
Morgana was pleased, as the fireballs were suitably dramatic for her liking. Until, that is, they were dispelled by Merlin, who, with a wave of his hand, caused the fireballs to cease to exist.
Morgana huffed and rolled her eyes, readying her next attack. Before she could do anything, however, she was cut off by her brother.
"WHAT? Merlin, you have magic? Why didn't you tell me?" exclaimed Arthur.
"Wait," Uther interjected, "you didn't know? I thought everyone knew. Morgana, did you know that Arthur didn't know?"
"Of course I didn't know that. I thought everybody knew as well!" Morgana replied. "How stupid and unobservant would you have to be to not realize that Merlin has magic?"
"Exactly!" Uther cried in validation. Look at him!" He gestured to Merlin, who was shiftily making his way toward the doors, trying to creep out of the room while the royal family was distracted, "His eyes are still gold, for heaven's sake!"
"Hey, don't look at me," Merlin protested, "I thought he knew, too."
Before Arthur could muster a sufficiently outraged response to these revelations, the door burst open as the knights came rushing in—though whether it had been the fireballs or the shouting that had alerted them to the conflict was anyone's guess—brandishing their weapons in preparation for battle.
They stopped as they took in the scene: Morgana, Uther, Arthur, and Merlin standing still in a room which showed little sign of impending doom.
"Is... uh... is everything all right here?" Leon ventured.
"Don't worry, Leon," Uther assured. "Apparently, Arthur just found out that Merlin has magic."
"Wait, seriously?" Asked Gwaine, peering out from behind Leon to look at Arthur incredulously.
"You knew too?" demanded Arthur, "How did everyone know this? Did you have secret meetings where you told everyone about Merlin's magic but me?"
"I mean... we never really talked about it with each other because we just kind of assumed that everybody knew, you know?"
Voicing an inarticulate yell, Arthur threw his hands up in frustration.
"I can't believe this!" He seethed. "First Morgana, now Merlin! Well, at least now there's nobody hiding magic from me anymore!"
The room was silent. Too silent. Red-faced and panting heavily, he looked around at the people gathered there, searching faces for validation. He didn't find it.
"Just to be clear," he began, suspicious, "there wouldn't happen to be anyone else hiding magic from me, right?"
He was once again met with a pointed absence of noise, rather than the ardent reassurances for which he'd been hoping.
The silence was broken when Mordred coughed and shuffled his feet. All eyes turned to him. "Well," he began, "the thing is..."
Arthur's screams of outrage could be heard all the way from Cenred's kingdom
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A/N: yes Camelot's national bird is still and always will be a toucan and you can pry that hc from my cold, dead, hands
Also this was a perfect 1111 words on ao3 but this garbage site doesn't do author's notes so sorry guys
Also also, I'm writing and posting this from my phone bc ff won't let me log in on my laptop, even if I switch to mobile mode all idk what's up with that but if any of y'all know what's up please lmk bc I hate posting on ff from a phone
Especially when ff replaces your fic with a bunch of bullshit alt text which it did twice on this frickin fic which is even more annoying bc I'm using my phone
tl;dr, just go read this on ao3 bc it's a better site and I actually remember to post there and edit fics bc it's actually usable unlike ff plus there's tags and you can fit in the whole title
(And the a/n on the ao3 version isn't just about how much ff is being a bitch so that's fun too)