Act 1

The days went past like the summer. Too short a time, for nearly too much sunshine. And Merlin knew deep inside him that this short time of happiness wouldn't last long. And he was right. They did have the best essemble, they ever had, with William as the main character, and a few very good actors, who were new to London. One of them was Gwaine, who would be very perfect as the main characters friend, and Percival, who was so tall, he'd make a great villain, although Merlin could really not see how Percival could hurt anyone. And then there was Leon, who had the right hair for the female protagonist. Leon wasn't really that keen to play a woman, and a whole evening was spent discussing the stupidity of not letting women be actors. Of course Merlin, his stupid best friend Will, whom he still wanted to kill...a bit, and even Gaius, the director, had to be actors from time to time.

So everything seemed to be going perfect, except for the play, cause Merlin didn't have a play yet.

One evening Merlin sat in a bar. Again. And tried to think of something that would make his play good. He thought the alcohol could help, but it really didn't, and so he left his wine mostly untouched. That was, when he felt a warm and comforting hand land on his shoulder. It was William, his main character. No, the actor, corrected Merlin his thoughts. Although he had to admit that everytime he tried to think of a story for his main character, he ended up thinking about William.

William now leaned forward to whisper in Merlin's ear: "You look a bit depressed." Merlin snorted. A bit?

"How would you feel, if you really needed to write a play, and just couldn't find the words?" And shit! Why had he just said that?

"Wait what?!" exclaimed William, and Merlin hastily pressed his hand on William's mouth.

"Okay, I'll explain it," he said, with his hand still on William's mouth, "but not in here."

William nodded slowly and Merlin took his hand back.

"My room is two streets away, we can talk there," he said. William nodded again, still looking confused, but following him nonetheless.

It was a chilly evening, and once again Merlin was glad over the fact that he lived near the Caerleon Theatre, and the bar which was next to it: The Golden Dragon. The prises were good, the quality not bad, and the bartender Kilgarah was a funny old fellow.

They reached the house, in which Merlin rented a room, in no time, and Merlin showed William the way up the stairs to his home. His eyes seemed to light up, when he took the parchments and quills and ink pots in. "So, this is where the magic happens," he said and Merlin rolled his eyes.

"Yes, this is where I write the worst poetry mankind has ever read." That earned him a slap on the back of his head. "Don't say that! I love your poetry! It's the reason, I wanted to become an actor."

That surprised Merlin. "Really? I...I didn't know that," he said, before his mouth turned into one of his huge grins that lighten up his whole face.

"I told you, when we first met that I always wanted to meet you. Mr. Shakespeare." Merlin groaned: "Stop calling me that, alright?"

"Wh-what?"

"Stop calling me Shakespeare, my real name is Merlin."

William's mouth fell open, and Merlin rolled his eyes.

"It's a pen name. And it was NOT my idea!" William had seemingly lost his ability to speak, and so Merlin continued: "It was Will, you know, my friend from the theatre...the one who doesn't like you..." William nodded, and Merlin went on: "We were celebrating my first finished play, and we were very drunk. Will seemed to think it would be funny to write his name on the script: William. And then I told him that he couldn't just write his name on my play, but he said that it was only a pen name, because a writer apparently needs a pen name. And then he added a surname: Shakespeare. I don't know how he came up with that, but he laughed his ass off at that time, so it must have been something really funny."

Merlin looked a bit apologetic towards William, who looked back and promptly started laughing. Merlin wanted to be mad at him, he really wanted to, but the sight of William throwing his head back and laughing so hard, his whole body shook, made merlin forget his anger.

"Okay," William said, after he had calmed down, "so, Merlin it is."

"Yeah, but don't you start with the Prince Arthur jokes, cause I've heard them all."

The laughter suddenly went dead in William's eyes, and Merlin wasn't sure why. He was about to ask, when William spoke: "Merlin, I...er...I also need to tell you something."

Merlin's eyes went huge. Was William about to admit that he was Prince Arthur's manservant?

"William is just a...a stage name. It's not my real name."

"Oh...okay," said Merlin, not really knowing what else to say.

"My real name is Arthur."

Merlin swallowed audibly. That was not possible. That was just not possible. "Er," he said, "huh...I guess it's very modern to call children after legends. Well, my mother thought so at least. Ehem, and maybe your mother just really wanted to call you after Prince Arthur. Erm..."

Arthur interrupted him: "No. While, yes, I think I'm called after the legendary King Arthur, I'm not called after the prince. Merlin, I am the prince."

When Merlin didn't answer, Arthur started to look worried, and plead: "Please say something."

Merlin just shook his head, and after another minute he said: "You...I...YOU?"

This made Arthur chuckle. He grabbed Merlin's upper arm, and pulled him towards a chair. "Here. Sit down." And when Merlin sat down, he asked: "Will you be alright? Are you in shock?"

That seemed to shake Merlin awake. "In shock?" he asked incredulously. "In shock! Wow! Your opinion of yourself must be so huge. Are all princes just arrogant prats?!" That earned him another slap on the head, but it was without much force, so that it could have been mistaken for a pet.

"I hope you'll never have to meet my father. You'd be in the stocks, before you could say: supercilious, patronizing clotpole."

"Why," asked Merlin, the smirk back on his face, "is he a supercilious, condescending, patronizing, pompous, arrogant, royal clotpole?"

"Well, he is royal. And a bit patronizing sometimes." And then he laughed. "No, sod this, he's patronizing all the time." That made them both laugh, until Arthur gasped: "Shh. We shouldn't talk about him like that. He's the King of England!" That made Merlin laugh a bit more, until his sides hurt, and he had to gasp for air.

"So," Arthur said, after Merlin had stopped laughing, "let's talk about the play."