Author's Note: I know, I'm sorry, I should be working on I, Pabu or (and) Rise of the Dead, but the idea struck me, and I couldn't let it go. Plus, I have writers block. So, here's the prologue to a brand-new fic! And without further ado (or excuses) let us get on with the… reading. Enjoy!

The Prince (ss) and the Plea

A Merlin Fanfiction

Prologue: In Which Merlin Runs Up Stairs

Merlin burst into Arthur's room, eyes wild, gasping for breath after having run up three and a half flights of stairs from the stables. The prince was on his feet in an instant, only half dressed in a pair of black breeches, his sword drawn and extended towards the doorway. Merlin yelped, and jumped back. "Watch it!"

"What the heck do you want, Merlin?" snarled Arthur bad-temperedly, lowering the sword point. "It's not even dawn! The bloody sun is still asleep!"

"Urgent news," gasped Merlin, collapsing into one of Arthur's chairs. "From Gwen who heard it from Edward the stable boy who heard from his mother's friend's cousin Jared who knows this other guy who is King Henrik's personal servant's cousin twice removed-"

"What. Do. You. Want," Arthur repeated bad-temperedly, spitting out each word like an insult. He lay back down on his bed and laced his fingers behind his head. Merlin shook his head, signifying a negative answer, still trying to catch his breath, and Arthur sighed and rephrased his question. "Your point?"

Merlin took a deep breath, willing his lungs to calm. "The- king- your- own- father- wants- you- to- marry- really- rather- soon- so- you- can- make- him- some- heirs- and- the- Pendragon- lineage- will- not- die- out- so- he's- sent- invitations- to- every- single- noble- family- in- Albion- so- they- can- each- send- one- of- their- daughters- to- the- castle- to- be- tested- to- see- if- they- can- be- wed- to- the- crown- prince- and- now- you- are- so- unbelievably- doomed- because- Lord- what- is- his- name- I- know- it- I- heard- it- just- three- minutes- ago- oh- right- Richardson's- eldest- daughter- is- coming- today- in- the- evening- and- you'd- better- come- up- with- a- plan- to- save- yourself- from- all- the- princesses- ladies- whatever- or- else- you'll- end- up- as- the- groom- for- fifty- weddings!"

Arthur sat up again, suddenly awake. "Wait! My father did what!?" Then, when the rest of Merlin's words sank in, he shouted. "He wants me to do WHAT?! I'm nineteen - I mean twenty - for God's sake! Is he mad?!"

Merlin nodded sagely. "I had been suspecting it for a while now, Arthur. Now I have proof!"

"WAIT!" cried Arthur again as Merlin turned to leave, humming a funeral dirge under his breath that sounded eerily like a modified version of the wedding march. "How many are there? Altogether?

Merlin shrugged, looking thoughtful. "Dunno. But I think there's a lot. A few more than five score. A hundred and six, I think. If you count the kings- wait. Knights are nobles, right?"

"No, they aren't," stated Arthur tersely. Bloody heck, he was so far past dead he didn't even know a word for it.

"Good." Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. "Take away something around eighty-two-and-a-half from the original number. Maybe twenty or so left. Twenty-five? Hm. No. Er...
Ah! Nineteen and a half daughters. Wait. Half? Maybe..."

Arthur thumped his head against the headboard of his bed and groaned.

Author's Note: What did you think? Sorry it was short. I'll try to update this once every two weeks, but it might take me a bit longer. Please review!