On the ninth day following a festival to celebrate the midwinter solstice - that in the future will be called Christmas - my true love gave to me…


If there was one thing Uther wanted, it was order and peace. Order and peace were all he asked for. Everything in its place, everything operating as it should. Peace and prosperity required a well-defined way of going about things; a natural regularity.

Before his reign, chaos had ruled: the chaos that magic brought about by overturning order. Magic meant peasants could overthrow Kings, commoners could control nobility. Power could be given to anybody; taken by anybody.

Peace required control. Control required strength. Strength required power. That power was his, as was his right and his responsibility. He would not have the peace of his Kingdom shattered.

This was why, as he strode through his hallways on the way to his dining room to breakfast, the laughter and cheer of his happy people surrounding him, he decided once and for all. He would never admit it to anyone; would never say it out loud.

Uther hated Midwinter.

Men dressing as women; servants feasting with nobility; wives cheating on their husbands; husbands cheating on their wives. Just yesterday he had seen Sir Dernhelm take a serving girl back to his room; unashamedly and in broad daylight. Not to mention the Lady Elaina's increasingly-embarrassing attempts to seduce any young man of rank.

He knew of some Kingdoms where peasants elected a new peasant King for a day, who could Lord it over the Kingdom. No such nonsense in his Kingdom.

Three ladies ran past him, gossiping and giggling, and he scowled. He could have sworn they were singing too.

He had to let them have their fun. As much as he hated it, he knew the uproar should he try to ban it. Besides, it was a time that attracted royal visitors from other Kingdoms. If he did not need their revelry, he did need their alliances. If only...

...wait, could he hear more women singing?

He stopped, his ears straining. He could. There were more women singing. If everything else wasn't enough, now he had to contend with some silly young women singing in his hallw...

...was that another woman singing?

As he stood there, being something someone other than a King would call gobsmacked, three women danced past him. He could have sworn one was singing about her stitchwork.

He continued down the hallway, more attentive now, as he realised he could hear women's voices singing from several rooms and hallways.

What on Earth was...

He diverted to the Great Hall, storming in to see what the racket was, and finding some women dancing in formation in the centre of the room, singing some sort of round. He stood stunned for a moment, the words slowly penetrating his consciousness, until he realised they were singing about what they wanted for breakfast.

"Eggs and meat and hot sweet tea, for breakfast that will do for me."

Not the best rhyme in the world, he thought. And then he thought, what the hell is...

"My Lord," the Princess Chastity trilled in a trained but not entirely musical soprano. She ran up to him and did a few twirls on her way, landing in front of him with a graceful pirouette. Her blonde curls bounced as she did so and he was struck for the first time at how attractive the boring woman would be if it weren't for her personality.

"My Lord, it's a terrible thing. My Lord, all the woman... we can only dance and sing."

"What?!" he thundered, obviously terrifying the cowed Princess, "what on Earth are you talking... singing... about?"

"It's true, my Lord," sang a soft but melodious voice. It was the Lady Morgana's maid, Guinevere.

"We woke this morning with this curse, we've tried everything but it just gets worse."

Then she did a cat leap and twirled to the ground in an elegant bow. Quite impressive, really.

"There's something more and I think you'll agree, it's definitely worse for you and me."

Uther just shook his head. He couldn't cope. He thought the young woman was trying to give him an update on the status of his kingdom but she kept singing. Should he be taking her seriously? What did you do when a roomful of women appeared to have gone insane?

"We don't just sing about our day, we keep giving our secrets away."

She wasn't exactly a poet either, it seemed. But he suddenly realised what she was trying to say.

"Our thoughts are there for all to see, I think you see the tragedy."

Oh yes, he did see the tragedy. He winced as he envisioned women accidentally revealing their affairs, indiscretions, lusts, crimes and... treasons? Maybe this could be useful. He mentally shook his head. No, this was magic and evil and had to be stopped.

"And this is only affecting women, you say?"

"Yes, your highness," chanted Chastity, "and now they know I want Sir Aquinas!"

"Who's Sir Aquinas?" asked Uther, confused.

Gwen just shrugged.

"No idea but I think you'll agree, there are 12 year olds with more maturity," she intoned. And then she looked shocked at her own brazenness. Chastity ran off crying.

Against his best efforts, Uther felt his mouth twitch. He was glad to see he wasn't alone in his estimation of the Princess. Guinevere just went up several points in his estimation as well. Not that he would ever tell her; she was just a servant after all.

"Summon my Court and order them to the Throne Room," he ordered Guinevere. She seemed to be the only one there with any sense, "this is obviously witchcraft and it must be dealt with immediately."

"Yes Sire," she sang, "but I am concerned. Is this just here or throughout the land?"

He simply nodded; it was obviously a good question. Then he watched as she performed a series of intricate dance steps out of the room. The dancing breakfast singers had grabbed their food but it hadn't stopped them from bopping around the room.

"Midwinter!" he cursed, "next year, I'm going to cancel the whole damn festival."


The men were all gathered in the Throne Room. No women were allowed. Uther actually thought he kind of liked that arrangement anyway. Maybe he could make it permanent.

"It is confirmed, Sire," said Arthur, finishing his report, "the spell, if that is what is, has only affected women within Camelot. Women in the outlying villages are all normal. There are several women who were awake last night who swear they started singing just after moonset."

"And what have you discovered?" Uther asked Leon.

"Apart from the fact that the butcher's wife thinks the butcher is an inadequate lover, the seamstress* on Market Street has been doing a little more than sewing and is, by the way, giving discounts at the moment,, and a young girl by the name of Jane stole a bun this morning... not much, Sire. Oh, a woman named Estelle has a fantasy that involves two Knights and a turkey baster but I left before I could get the details."

Uther tried to ignore the fact that Sir Goshawk and Sir Caradoc had looked decidedly more interested in that last piece of information.

"Very well. Leon, I want you to take your Knights and join the City Guard. As women reveal more of themselves there may be chaos. Arthur, I want you to find this witch and make her reverse this spell. Use whatever resources you need."

He looked around the room for a moment.

"Where's that idiot manservant of yours today?"


"Gaius!" Arthur strode into Gaius' chambers in full armour, his chainmail gleaming and his sword swinging around his hips.

"Yes Sire," said Gaius. He was sitting perched on his bench over a boiling potion of some kind, "are you well?"

"No Gaius, I am not well. All the women in the Kingdom are singing and dancing. Haven't you noticed?"

"Ah, well, I've been a little tied up the last couple of days and... now that you mention it there did seem slightly more frivolity this morning. I just thought people were getting into the spirit of the season. I've been tempted to burst into song myself lately."

As a statement, that one certainly made Arthur pause.

"Anyway," he continued, shaking his head of an irrelevancy, "I need my idiot manservant and he's nowhere to be found. Where is he?"

"Tending on Sir Cesario, perhaps?" suggested Gaius, "We've both been so busy lately, I haven't seen him since the unfortunate pregnancy incident."

"Gaius, that was only two days ago."

"Really? It seems longer than that."

"I know. With all the craziness lately it's almost like someone has condensed our lives into some sort of story for their own amusement."

"Very true, Sire. Life, as they say, is a stage."

"A stage of what?"

"Right. Anyway, I suggest you try Sir Cesario's."

"Great Gaius, thanks."

He left Gaius' chambers and walked back toward the French Knights' chambers, ducking quickly every now and then to avoid the synchronous sweepers and unified moppers in the hall. The odd thing was, the dancing movements seemed to make the floor cleaner.


Uther sat in the throne room. Outside, he could hear one of the chambermaids delivering a rather impressive aria on comparative cleaning products. He sat and waited for Arthur to return and tell him everything had been resolved. He did this a lot, he realised. Sometimes he felt like this was the only room he was ever in. Maybe if he was lucky somebody would come to talk to him and he could yell at them. Being King could be fun, if it wasn't for all the bloody people.


Arthur knocked on Cesario's door, trying to ignore the fact that he was supposed to be trying to find a Witch but had spent all morning looking for Merlin instead. It was not that his servant always seemed to know what to do in these situations. No, it was because he made Arthur... look more intelligent... in comparison. Yes, that's why he wanted him. Definitely.

There was no reply from the room and Arthur was about to walk on when he heard a thump from inside.

"Cesario?" he yelled, "Merlin".

Nothing.

Maybe Cesario was hurt. Maybe Merlin was hurt. Maybe Merlin had gone in this morning and some rabid woman singing about the knitting she had recently finished for her seven children had tried to do some wild dance move and kicked him.

Ok, that probably wasn't likely.

"Merlin!" he yelled, rattling the door handle. Then he took a step back and broke the door inwards.

He stormed in to find Cesario, Ganymede and Dernhelm sitting at the dining table looking upset.

"What are you doing?" he yelled, "didn't you hear me calling? I was worried about... you. Very worried about you."

With a brief look of anguish, Cesario, Ganymede and Dernhelm began to sing in surprisingly-feminine contraltos.

"We have a problem

It's plain to see

Women are singing

And so are we

What do we do?

Uther will know

He'll be so angry

We'll have to go."

"Gods," exclaimed Arthur, "you know what this means?"

The three disguised women nodded sadly.

"It means...men are affected by the spell too."

Instantly, the three women clamped their mouths shut, desperately trying to avoid some sort of sonnet of confession.

"I have to tell my father," said Arthur and ran from the room.

"Not the brightest intellect, I fear," sang Rosalinde.

"Merlin is definitely the brains of that pair," concluded Cesario.


Uther was back to hating Midwinter. Being King was fun when you shouted orders at people and waited in an empty room for them to be carried out. Being King was less fun when the wife of one of his landowners was currently singing of her desire for him; a ditty peppered with detailed descriptions of her husband's inadequacies.

It would be an embarrassing enough situation if her husband were not standing shamefacedly beside her. The sooner this farce ended the better.

"Father," he heard and Arthur burst the doors. "I have terrible news. This spell is beginning to affect men too."

"What!" he yelled. The last thing he wanted was to start spilling his secrets left, right and centre.

"Have you had any luck finding the witch?"

"No Sire."

Was it his imagination or did Arthur look embarrassed about something. And still no manservant.

"Well," he considered, "we should...WILL YOU SHUT UP, WOMAN, I AM NOT INTERESTED."

Lady... what was her name again?... temporarily stuttered to a halt but then helplessly began again. It was obviously something she'd always wanted to say. The spell was forcing her to finish.

"Arthur," he tried again, "I want you to..."

And the singing Lady stopped.

Outside, the chambermaid on her fifth delivery of her "Ode to Baking Soda" was also silent.

Arthur walked to the large wooden doors, throwing them open and peering out. The synchronised sweepers were sitting in a corner looking exhausted. The moppers were finishing the floor without ballet. He strained but could not hear a single bit of song.

"It's over," he said.

"Well done, Arthur," said Uther. He knew his son would come through. He always did.

"Ah, thank you Father?" said Arthur helplessly. What was he going to say? It looked like the witch had changed her mind or something?

"I'll go and check on the guards and take a stock of the damage."

Arthur walked out and Uther dismissed his court. He strolled back through blissfully silent and orderly corridors to his bedchambers. Everyone had scurried inside, probably to clean up the messes of their relationships following so much honestly. He laid down on his bed and considered that all in all, it was good to be King.


Meanwhile...

Merlin rolled over and looked at Morgana sleeping beside him. He smiled softly and thought that soon he would have to get up and undertake his duties. He had already spent more than an entire day in her bedchamber and it would not take long before people noticed.

He was a bit concerned, too. The night before, while they were... well... he'd been sure he saw her eyes glow. No fires had been lit and no vases had exploded so he was sure nothing had happened. Still, he thought, probably best to be safe than sorry.

He checked she was asleep, whispered a quick general counterspell, and then buried his face into her long dark hair and drifted off to sleep. He felt better for the spell but he was probably worrying unnecessary. It had probably been nothing.


A/N Oh, how I love Stupid!Arthur, let me count the ways.

Thanks be to the genius of Joss Whedon for the 'Buffy Musical' on which this is shamelessly based.

*At one point in time (admittedly a lot later than Arthurian legends are set), prostitutes in England used to register their occupation as 'seamstress'. That's why in Terry Pratchett novels the one and only seamstress in Ankh Morpork joins the 'Guild of Seamstresses' and can't understand people's surprise that she constantly carries a basket of clothes to be mended. She incidentally gets the most work.