A/N: Thanks for all the reviews, much appreciated.

"Arrrrrthurrrr…"

Arthur, striding hurriedly down the corridor, paused briefly in mid-step to wince – although trying to get him to admit that would be somewhat like pulling teeth or perhaps asking a goldfish to breathe outside of the water tank. Because everyone knows that crown princes don't wince, it simply isn't manly. And besides, even if Arthur did wince no-one would dare call it an actual 'wince', it would be more of a slight shudder – much like the tiny kind of tremble that one submits to in a potentially horrifying situation…just like the one which Arthur was currently trying to outrun, and in failing that, ignore.

"Arrrrrthurrrr…"

There came that dreaded wince again, as the rather delighted sing-song voice penetrated the comfort he usually took in marching around the castle like he owned the place, which when you thought about it, he kind of did, or would eventually anyway…it was only a matter of time. In any case, there was a sort of peaceful state of self-adulation one could achieve when all others bowed respectfully as one passed. Unfortunately for Arthur, this state could not be achieved while Morgana's admittedly melodious, and yet irritatingly persistent voice continued to assail his rather delicate princely ears. With a harried sigh he came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to face her, his annoyance written clearly on his face in the hopes that she would read it and decide she preferred to live. But since when was Arthur that lucky?

"Arrrrthurrr…" she called again, gleefully ignoring the irritation he practically exuded, bad aura there, she noted, Arthur's been brooding again.

"What could possibly be so damn important that you felt the need to shadow me around the castle for the past hour?" Arthur practically growled, sounding much like some sort of riled wild animal, and for all intents and purposes, he was.

Morgana smiled an infuriating and gleeful smile, "I just wanted to know how this morning went," and promptly giggled as the image of Arthur in all his female glory appeared in her minds-eye.

Arthur frowned, his eyes darkening as he remembered that the entire reason behind that morning's embarrassment was standing right in front of him…and there were no witnesses.

"You're lucky I'm so incredibly controlled," he muttered threateningly.

"Ooooh," Morgana gasped in mock fear, "so scary."

Arthur's next stream of words was practically unintelligible and the few words Morgana could pick up she simply ignored, it was better for both of them that way.

"So anyway," she grinned slyly, "I heard a certain knight in shining orange armour had a thing for 'Arthura', the new courtier this morning…"

Arthur blushed slightly at the memory, now that had been awkward. There were truly no words to describe just how mortifying that part of his morning had been. It was so humiliating in fact that he had promptly repressed the memory, only to have Morgana laughingly bring it up again. Oh he was so going to have his revenge at the next truth or dare meeting.

"And when he actually asked you to accompany him to the feast…I thought I was going to die I was laughing so hard."

Arthur blanched at the all too clear memory…

They had met, as they always did, in the empty closet that was conveniently next door to Morgana's room. Why they didn't just meet in Morgana's room was a mystery to most, if not all of them. The closet, they supposed, lent more mystery, more suspense and a greater feeling of well, something else that they felt not Morgana's or anyone else's rooms would. They met at the arranged hour, ten on the dot. They would have met at twelve for obvious reasons, but it was much harder to be up and about at midnight without being asked awkward questions, and the whole point of the game was that it was a secret…it was so much more fun that way. Not to mention more embarrassing. So as ten approached they all inconspicuously piled into the storeroom, one by one (less suspicion that way) and prepared to get down to business. Gwen, the unofficial candle-lighter, time-keeper, truth-and-dare recorder, and creepy-voice person called the 'meeting' to order with a quiet "attention". The other two, through royal and of higher status than the simple handmaid, promptly quieted down and turned to face her, unquestioningly obeying her orders.

"The tenth night-hour is nigh," she began in a spooky voice, actually it was creepy, "and the candle is all but burnt to the stub. Now is the time, for the game to begin." She picked up a small black book; its pages edged in gold and flipped it open to the most recent entry.

"The last dare was created by Arthur and served by Gwen," she read, "it involved stealing the personal effects, in particular the shoes of one Merlin Emrys."

Arthur stifled a grin at the mention of his dare, he'd been quite proud of that one. It had been fairly amusing to see Merlin constantly at a loss about where his shoes had gone. He also learnt that the boy only had like, one pair of shoes, how ever did he survive?

"Now the truth-or-dare mantel falls to Morgana who must either ask Arthur a question which he must answer truthfully, or dare him to do anything her mind can conceive. Do you accept this responsibility?" She asked gravely.

"I do." Morgana intoned, eyes glinting with excitement, she had the best dare in store for her somewhat finicky 'brother'.

"Very well," Gwen said, "you may begin."

"Arthur," began Morgana, trying valiantly to contain her enthusiasm lest he guess what she had in store for him, "truth or dare?"

"Dare." Arthur replied, as she had known he would. The guy never said truth, ever. It was as if he had something to hide, and maybe he did. He had been brooding a lot lately.

"Arthur Pendragon, I dare you to dress up as a girl and attend the breakfast feast as 'Arthura', the new courtier."
Arthur blinked at her in astonishment, "you want me to do what?"

Morgana grinned evilly as Gwen giggled, "you heard me." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and in Arthurs opinion it didn't suit her one bit, "or are you too afraid?"

And as she had quite correctly predicted, Arthur was incredibly predictable after all, his pride flared at the insult and he stated hotly, "of course I'm not!"

"Then come tomorrow morning I look forward to meeting Arthura," Morgana smiled, "I've even picked out a dress for you to wear."

"But what if they know it's me?" Arthur, despite his crown prince pride, looked worried.

"They won't," Morgana smiled again, "when I'm done even your own father won't recognise you!"

Then Gwen spoke again to end the meeting. "Arthur, do you accept the dare Morgana has requested?"

He sighed, "I do."

"Very well," Gwen grinned, "I declare this meeting over."

"This is wonderful," Morgana flounced over to Arthur and patted him on the head, "I've always wanted a sister."

Arthur sighed, and wondered how he had gotten himself into this undoubtedly embarrassing mess. Morgana, he thought darkly, the source of all humiliating situations I've ever found myself in.

The next morning he was rudely awakened by a dangerously excited Morgana who ripped off his nice, warm blankets, completely disregarding the fact that he slept as nature intended and proceeded to drag him, unceremoniously, out of bed. Due to the fact that he was still somewhat groggy and disorientated he didn't quite realise that he stood before Morgana in all his naked glory. She however, had finally deigned to notice and blushed slightly before throwing him a pair of loose pants to put on. He put them on, resigned to his fate and listened as she told him of her master plan. An hour later he stood in front of a mirror, mortified at the sight of himself in a garishly purple dress, black wig and copious amounts of make-up that, actually, did wonders to hide his identity. Astounded, he peered closely at the mirror before concluding that Morgana was right, Uther probably wouldn't recognise him at all. So much so the better.

"Ready sunshine?" Morgana chirped happily, her dream, well one of them, was finally coming true and she would relish in every moment, "it's time for breakfast."

Arthur grimaced before allowing Morgana to lead him out of the safety of his room (and leaving many guards with raised eyebrows at the pair exiting from Arthur's room) and down to the chamber where breakfast was taking place. When they reached the chamber Morgana gleefully introduced him as 'Arthura', a new courtier at the castle and sat him down, to his immense discomfort, next to Lancelot, before settling herself across the table from him so she could observe, and take great pleasure, in his embarrassment.

"So Arthura," Lancelot made a gallant attempt at conversation, "new at the castle huh? Enjoying it so far?"

"Somewhat," Arthur squeaked. Yes, squeaked. He was trying hard not to sound like himself, and what better way to sound unlike himself than to squeak. Because as I'm sure you've all guessed by now, crown princes do not squeak, it's way to undignified.

Lancelot laughed, "well I'm sure it'll get better," he smiled at him, "I remember when I first came to Camelot, wow, that sure was an eye-opener."

Arthur remembered well the events that followed Lancelot's arrival but decided that as 'Arthura' he really wouldn't have a clue what Lancelot was alluding too.

"Oh, well," he said ambiguously, "I really wouldn't know, being new here and all."

"Yes," Lancelot smiled charmingly, "I don't suppose you would."

Across the table from 'Arthura', Morgana snorted and then quickly tried to hide it when Lancelot turned to give her a questioning glace.

"Bad juice," she managed, trying desperately to retain her laughter.

Lancelot turned back to 'Arthura', his mind trying desperately to come up with something even remotely witty to impress her/him with.

"So," he began, "the, ummm, table cloths are quite lovely aren't they?"

'Arthura' gave him a confused and slightly bewildered look, "Ah yes," he muttered, "quite." While thinking, is Lancelot seriously talking about the table cloths? What on earth has gotten into him? I thought he had a brain.

Lancelot, aware of his previous failure tried again, "but they really don't compare to your beauty, you know."

'Arthura' froze and almost fell off his chair in shock. Is he seriously flirting with me? He shot a panicked gaze across at Morgana who was laughing so hard she had adopted the pretence of a rather severe coughing fit.

"Arthura?" Lancelot questioned.

"Yes?" He squeaked, and this time it was no façade. This was an honest to God, full on, Arthurian, squeak. Oh how much fun Morgana must be having he thought darkly.

"Would you come with, I mean, would you give me the honour of attending the banquet tonight with me?" Lancelot searched her/his face for an answer but didn't really find anything either way as 'Arthura's' face had relocated to the floor, this time he had actually fallen off his chair.

Morgana, stifling her laughter stood up and apologised, saying something about low blood-pressure and of course 'Arthura' would love to go with Lancelot, but if he would excuse her she would take 'Arthura' to Gaius just to make sure she hadn't hurt herself in her fall. To which of course Lancelot replied something like, 'oh here, let me carry her.'

And that was how Arthur found himself being carried by Lancelot (who remarked somewhat stupidly that 'Arthura' weighed a lot more that she looked), followed by a smirking Morgana, to see a rather bemused Gaius and eventually to be found by a stunned Merlin.

It was all Morgana's fault.