A/N So, yeah. I had about half of this written since the last chapter I posted, but then I got two assignments which were due at the same time. Anyway, Lancelot isn't exactly the same as he is in the show?, I wouldn't know, we really didn't get much interaction with him, but yeah, not really good with character personalities and stuff. Enjoy!

The feast was quite spectacular.

As Merlin stood behind Arthur, he couldn't help but admire the way the servants had all come together in the past week to make sure everything was perfect. These very same servants now bustled around the hall, plates of food balanced precariously as they weaved their way around one another and the bustling nobles who were in attendance.

While he watched, his attention was drawn to Arthur, and Guinevere, as swell of pride echoing in his chest, seeing his best friend excel once more at what many nobles didn't believe that she could. At that point in time, both of them were partaking in a lively conversation with the prince Balinor, and the crown princess.

Noting that the royals' goblets were still full, and not in dire need of a refill, Merlin swept his gaze further along the table, where the appropriately dubbed "Knights of the Round Table" were sitting. Upon seeing Merlin, Lancelot waved him over, in pretence of needing a refill, but which was, to those who knew them, a poorly disguised attempt at wanting to talk to Merlin.

Wandering past the knights of Deaestidria, stopping for a short second to fill up one of their goblets, Caradoc, Merlin was quite sure that the knight's name Caradoc, Merlin made his way over to Lance.

There were some cheers from the knights as Merlin joined them, and distracted by this, had the pitcher of wine he was carrying stolen from him, by none other than Gwaine.

Merlin raised his eyebrow, and held out his hand, taking a menacing step towards the ruffian knight.

Waggling his eyebrows back, Gwaine simply smiled at him, and sat back down, the pitcher now joining the multitude that were already on the table.

Lancelot rolled his eyes, and turned to Merlin in a mock whisper, "If our friend drinks anymore, I fear he's going to pitch over."

At that, there were a multitude of groans echoed across the table, and the knights all looked at Merlin, as if asking for him to deal with it.

Merlin shook his head in mock disappointment at them, Lancelot may have been noble in nature, but at heart was still ready to take any opportunity to have fun with his friends.

"Unfortunately Lance, I don't believe that your puns are appreciated here," Merlin said, a slight smile on his face.

"How could you say that, Merlin? I am the master of puns!" Lancelot held his hand in mock shock and horror against his chest.

Lancelot opened his mouth to say something else, when it was cut off by Percival shoving a piece of food into it.

"There, that's better," Percival exclaimed, as he, just like Merlin, knew Lancelot too well to allow him to keep going.

Draping himself over Percival's muscly arms and batting his eyelids, Gwaine cried out, "Why, my knight, you have saved me, give us a smooch?"

Percival simply shoved him off.

Merlin laughed. Shaking his head, he picked up the pitcher from the table, away from Gwaine's prying hands and made his way back to stand behind Arthur.

However, as Merlin was leaning over to fill up the goblet of prince Balinor, he felt it. It wasn't at all how he expected it to feel, most of the time when he met another sorcerer their magic felt wrong, and would almost ooze out of them in a thick sludge, but this, this was different.

Balinor's magic felt like the perfect spring day, flowers blooming, the sky a rich, blue colour. Birds singing, and the air refreshingly cool, that when you took a breath it felt like everything was right with the world. The air wasn't cold though, it had a nice warmth to it, which settled into the very depths of one's soul.

Pulling back into reality, Merlin stepped away from the prince, who was now watching Merlin with a peculiar interest, his head cocked to one side, and his eyebrow raised in surprise.

Merlin could feel his heart racing. Did Balinor know? Surely if Merlin could feel Balinor's magic, Balinor could feel his? Never in Merlin's life had he ever encountered someone who could feel his magic, never.

With his head full of thoughts, the rest of the feast went by quickly, on high alert should the prince try any funny business, or try and out Merlin to Arthur.

Gods, Merlin thought as he followed Arthur to his chambers, the night finally over, Arthur!

Merlin stopped in the middle of the hallway. His heart pounded, and he could feel his throat getting dryer by the second. If Balinor told Arthur, what would he do? Would Arthur believe him? And if Arthur did believe Balinor, would he even ask Balinor how he found out? Or would he ju-

"MERLIN!"

Merlin snapped his head up to look at Arthur, his chain of thought now broken.

"Yes, your majesty?"

"I have been calling your name for the past minute, you dollophead," Arthur said, annoyance in his tone, which quickly changed to suspicion when Merlin didn't rise to take the bait. "Are you ok? You look like a startled stoat."

Quickly rearranging his features to portray his signature grin, Merlin replied, "Nothing. And besides, that's my word."

Raising his eyebrow at Merlin's suspicious behaviour, Arthur rolled his eyes, "Yes, well, it suits you perfectly."

Turning, on his heel, Arthur started walking back to his rooms, Merlin left standing in the deserted hall.

He knew what he had to do.

He had to talk to Balinor.