This fic was inspired both by Merlin (obviously) and a Fairy Tail fanfic, one of my absolute favorites: Roll to Me by LoneStorm. I love it, and if you like Fairy Tail (or even if you don't), check it out (you can use the link below, just add the following to .net):

/s/11433949/1/Roll-To-Me

Edit 7.1.2022: I added a little more dialogue at the end to make this more complete

Fancy a Lift?

Arthur was done.

Done with the fancy little biscuits. The fancy waitstaff and equally fancy guests. Done listening to his fiancé's annoying giggle, so screechy it had been known to shatter glass. Done with his future father-in-law making eyes at his sister (and his sister's friends). Done with his father repeating – for the twenty-seventh time – that the wedding would benefit the company. It's a merger, Arthur, and we need their factories to cut costs. Do your duty.

Fuck duty. He was done.

Which was how he found himself on the side of a one-lane road, dirt on his new loafers and sweat already beading on his brow.

Arthur didn't quite understand how he'd ended up there, but he knew he had to keep running.

He'd been in a church (of which he couldn't remember the name), listening to the steeple bells in the distance as the beginning of Pachelbel's Canon in D echoing throughout the cathedral. At any moment, his future wife would be walking towards him, bouquet in hand, and he'd be expected to say 'I do' with a straight face. A hundred-plus guests sat on either side of the aisle, silk and flowers hanging decoratively from the twenty-foot vaulted ceiling, all waiting for her to arrive.

Arthur was done waiting.

"Fuck. I can't do this," he seethed, hands in his hair, already ruining Gwaine's careful work and not caring a wit. Everyone in the front row was shooting him concerned glances, but Arthur didn't care much about those either. He was too busy having a mental break-down.

"You just realized that now?" Morgana said from his left. She'd strong-armed him, and his best mates, into a position as his Best Man. A decision he was regretting, not for the first time. Did she have to sound quite so calm?

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered, eyes glancing around in terror. Were the walls getting closer, or was that just him?

"Swearing isn't going to help any."

"Well, what am I supposed to do, then, Morgana?" he whisper-shouted, conscious of his father's glare. He probably couldn't hear what they were saying, but given Arthur's frantic glances at the reverend, it wasn't hard to guess the subject. "Stand up my own fiancé at the alter?"

"Yes." She rolled her eyes. "Don't just stand there, idiot. Go."

"Go? You can't be serious."

But one look at her face, and he knew she was.

Morgana made a vague gesture towards the door with her eyes. "Run. Leave. I'll buy you some time." And, before he could say anything – like how bad an idea this was – Morgana screamed. "Oh my god, a rat!"

Half the audience jumped up, and before anyone could move, she collapsed to the floor.

Leon was standing by to break her fall. Which was fortunate, because Arthur was already making a break for the church doors.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing. He wasn't thinking, probably. But who was he to waste another of his sister's brilliant performances?

Arthur burst out of the front double-doors, adrenaline pumping in his veins. He quickly descended the stairs two-at-a-time, all-out springing for the gravel drive ahead.

Taking the car wasn't an option. His father had absconded with the keys, maybe having subconsciously predicted such a reaction from his son. It was a thought that would irritate him on a regular day, but he was too busy running for new-found freedom to care.

He was doing it. He was actually running from his own wedding.

Fuck, this was mad.

Arthur kept running and didn't stop. Somehow – likely thanks to all those early-morning workouts – he made it down the hill in a matter of minutes, cathedral high above him like some imposing gargoyle. At the bottom of the gravel drive was a simple country road carved through the forest. Unfortunately for him, with nary a sign in sight, the asphalt stretched in both directions with no way of knowing which would get him to safety fastest.

He paused in a moment of indecision, not sure if he should start hiking to London (over 60 kilometers) or take his chances up the road.

Arthur was leaning towards the latter when he spied the car up the lane.

Whoever was at the wheel was clearly an incompetent daredevil. Not only were they driving over the advisable limit, but they didn't have any qualms about doing it in the middle of the road, tires straddling the yellow line like it wasn't even there. It was headed south, towards London. And daredevil or not, Arthur instinctively froze like a deer in the headlights, horrified at the thought his future in-laws (or, worse, his father) had given chase.

Only to relax a moment later when he noticed the golden color of the car. Not only would his family never own anything so garish, they certainly wouldn't travel in a vehicle with an advertisement cone on top. TAXI was written in bold letters on the side, a mobile number beneath.

He didn't have long to wonder what a taxicab was doing this far north of London when the car started slowing down. And kept slowing. And… and stopping. Right next to him (on the wrong side of the lane, no less).

Arthur continued to stare at it, half wondering if it was a hallucination brought on by bone-chilling panic, when the window rolled down and a face appeared.

The driver was… young. Younger than he'd expected, with wavy dark hair and the largest ears he'd ever seen on a person's head (more fit to be the doors on his taxi, really, than listening devices). His eyes were dark, but the smile he directed at Arthur was warm, welcoming, and nothing like the stiff expressions he'd been graced with for the past three days (and even his entire life, if he were to be honest).

"Hullo. Fancy a lift?"

Arthur, still glancing around as if his father would burst forth from the trees, shot the taxi a look. "From your dodgy vehicle, I think not."

The cabby's smile turned just a bit sly. "Be that way if you want, mate, but it's a long way back into London. And, um, I don't see anyone else around," he added, obviously taking the piss as his eyes made a point of scanning the empty roadway.

He followed it up with a pointed look at Arthur's trousers. Arthur had just enough time to wonder what those eyes were doing there when the stranger said, "That is, if you can pay for it?"

His mind must have been truly addled if Arthur's first thoughts were how exactly this stranger expected him to pay, when he clarified, "I don't see a wallet. You do have money, don't you?"

...Oh.

Arthur was just about to insult the man's apparent inability to recognize good breeding when he saw it, but was interrupted by echoed shouts from behind him.

He didn't have to look back to know it was the wedding party giving chase, but he did anyway.

Through the trees, he could make out several tuxedo-clad figures racing down the hill. One of them, he could swear, was grey-hared, frowning, and walking like he owned half of England and was in negotiations to purchase the rest of it. The expression on his face meant Arthur should present himself, groveling, or suffer a fate worse than death.

A fate that was, quite honestly, synonymous with the wedding he'd just escaped.

Which was why he forewent the insults, dove for the taxi door, and scrambled inside. "Go. Go, now," he ordered in a stern voice (not panicky, certainly not. He was a Pendragon, and Pendragons did not panic. Impending nuptials aside).

"As you command, Your Highness," the cabby remarked, rather flippantly, but Arthur was too busy making sure they weren't being chased to reprimand him.

He didn't fully relax until the church was long vanished behind the trees, the taxi eating up asphalt just as quickly as it did upon arrival. There weren't any vehicles behind them – at least, none as fast as this one – so he could only hope Morgana had been able to redirect whatever pursuers had given chase.

It seemed the escape from his wedding had been a success.

"The name's Merlin," the cabby said, drawing Arthur's attention back to the front of the car.

"Arthur," he said. "Arthur Pendr- is that a dog?"

'Dog' was a loose term for the creature. Even if it was somewhat regal, with its white coat, blue eyes, and slender frame, it was practically human-sized, sitting in the passenger seat like it owned it. After trying to lick Arthur through the see-through divider, and failing, it let out a quick whine, giving a pleading look at the cabby as if he could somehow help. And, in the process, leaving bits of slobbery drool all over the middle console.

"Yes, it's a dog," the man – Merlin – said, as if Arthur were being particularly dense. "Aithusa's a brilliant traveling companion, aren't you, girl?" As if demonstrate this fact, Merlin ran a hand through it's – her – fur. She let out a happy bark in response.

"I hope you know leaving dog hair and slobber all over your place of employment is a fireable offense," Arthur pointed out instead, still unable to reconcile the vision in front of him. Lord knew if the family chauffeur ever committed such a travesty, he'd never been seen again.

"Lighten up, Arthur Pend. We don't much care about that, do we, love?" Merlin said, talking to the dog as if she would actually say something back.

"How is it, of all the taxis in London, I get picked up by a total mental?" he muttered not-so silently.

Merlin flashed him a smile over the seat dividers, looking borderline deranged. "The only one mental enough to be out this far, for sure."

Briefly, he wished he'd actually brought his mobile, in case this man really was as dodgy as he seemed. At the very least, he could call in a complaint about his driving.

"Will you slow down?" he said, scowling at the trees that passed by in a rather startling blur. "I would like to make it out of this forest alive."

"Relax. There's no one out here for kilometers. If it bothers you too much, just close your eyes."

Perfect.

In the silence, and feeling the heat in his formal wear, Arthur felt itchy and on top of sweaty. He forewent further communication in favor of removing parts of his suit - It was something he was glad to be free from, not only because of the heat but because they were the clothes he'd almost died in (he'd never found Gwaine's comments particularly funny, but he couldn't deny their somewhat melodramatic truth in this instance).

Arthur had just loosened the knot from his tie, pulling it off in one motion, when he glanced in the rearview mirror. Dark, sapphire eyes were already watching him, and when their gazes met, the cabby smiled.

"So, where are you from, anyway? 'Spect it's not easy to end up in the middle of the woods on some road, all alone."

"I wasn't," he corrected, loosening the top two buttons of his shirt. "Alone, that is."

The man quirked a single eyebrow, as if Arthur were being particularly confusing. Arthur found the look rather irritating, reminding him of the ones his father made when he was particularly annoyed with him.

"Oh? Why's that?"

Arthur shot him a look; his tone dry. "Well, I don't know, Merlin, but I think that church back there was particularly telling, don't you?"

Merlin's grin only widened. "Please tell me you didn't run from a funeral."

"No, you idiot. I was coming from a wedding," Arthur blurted, and then promptly cursed himself. What business was it of this man's where Arthur came from?

"Oh, really! I've always loved weddings. Was it any good?" He frowned, then, as if biting something sour. "But, well, I suppose not, if you'd have rather hitchhiked than stay."

"I was not hitchhiking!" Arthur sputtered. "I was… walking."

"Oh. Sorry. Walking. 60 kilometers, into London. Yep, nothing crazy about that."

"Are you always this opinionated about everything?" Arthur couldn't help asking, annoyed beyond belief this total stranger was judging him.

"'Fraid so."

Merlin, instead of taking offense, was smirking. And, despite his eyeroll, Arthur felt his lips tug up in response.

It took some finagling at the buttons before he could get his suit jacket open. Once that was off, he felt immediately cooler. But not quite cool enough.

"Don't you have any ventilation in here?" he asked on impulse, messing at his cufflinks. Cufflinks handed down from his great, great, great grandfather, and by default, felt like he needed to keep. "Or is it as old and beat-up as the rest of this tawdry vehicle?"

"Well, yes, it is, but in fairness to my 'tawdry vehicle', one doesn't usually ride in full kit," Merlin remarked wryly. "But feel free to roll the windows down if it gets a bit stuffy."

"And how exactly will that help? It's just as boiling outside, if not more so."

"Don't be such a ponce. Live a little!" Merlin had to shout because, as if to demonstrate, he rolled his window down and Aithusa's, the car filled with the rapid beating of wind rushing too fast into the cabin.

Not that Arthur would ever admit it, but it did help, somewhat. After a while, he demanded they be rolled back up because they were giving him a headache. Merlin obliged (without comment, for once), and the cab was filled with a surprising quiet once the loud beating was done.

When Arthur looked back up to the mirror, Merlin was already watching him.

"Were you honestly planning on walking into London all on your own? From here, I mean?" Merlin continued, apparently unable to drop a subject once started. "Just how posh are you, anyway?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, unable to stop himself from saying, "When it's your wedding, I'm sure you'll do the same."

Merlin's eyes practically bugged out of his skull. Arthur took a fierce, brief pleasure in surprising him before he blurted, "You? You were the groom? What happened? No, wait don't tell me. I bet all you had to do was open your mouth before she chased you away with the bouquet."

"That's not- Merlin, you bastard," he spluttered.

But his words had no effect. Merlin was already cackling, too lost in his own amusement to listen to Arthur, even as he said, "I'm kidding. Honestly. What happened, really?"

After the laughter at his expense – again – Arthur wasn't quite willing to go spilling his guts. His looked seem to say as much, because Merlin followed his demand with wide puppy eyes and a, "please? I'd like to know."

…Well, fine. They needed someway to pass the next hour, didn't they?

"…It wasn't my marriage. Not quite," he confessed. "My father set it up."

"What? An arranged marriage? You're not… you're not a royal, are you?"

"No. No, God forbid. Just very rich and apparently very stupid," he muttered the last part, fiddling with the buttons on his sleeves. He wanted to yank the damned shirt off and throw the whole thing away, but he suspected his driver wouldn't be appreciative of him sitting in just his underthings for the remaining time, and refrained from doing so.

Instead, he started systematically rolling up his sleeves, babbling as he went. "My father is a very wealthy man. Business is all he knows. And Vivian- well, her father, really, is- was going to merge one of their shell companies with ours, after the union. It's why my father wanted me to marry her." He finished one sleeve, starting on the next. "It wasn't until I was waiting at the end of the aisle that I realized what he wanted and what I wanted weren't quite the same thing. I realized I wouldn't… couldn't sign my life over to someone I didn't even like."

And it was true. He didn't like her, and he was sure the feeling was mutual.

At first, maybe, they'd had a bit of rapport. Dating her had been fun, and the sex was nice. Their personalities, however, didn't mix in the long term. By the time he'd realized as much, Vivian and her father were already quite attached to the Pendragon name, and his father quite attached to the savings he'd make, to let Arthur back out of the relationship so easily.

In hindsight, he could admit with no small amount of shame that the situation wasn't entirely his father's fault. Yes, he'd set it up and refused to listen to Arthur, practically pushing him into the marriage, but in the end, Arthur was his own man. Even though he'd objected, he was too set on pleasing his father to be more adamant.

Something that probably wouldn't be a problem anymore.

Any guilt he felt wasn't only from disappointing his father. Not only would Uther never want to speak to him again, but Arthur had left the only woman he'd ever been engaged to at the alter. No matter how awful Vivian was, she didn't deserve that.

He didn't realize he was so lost in thought until the soft sounds of the drive filtered through his ears; the noise of the tires on asphalt and the engine humming beneath them. It was quieter than it'd been at the church, and the near-silence loosened some still-lingering tension.

He looked up, away from the window, to find Merlin once again watching him in the mirror.

Their gazes locked, and Merlin, abruptly, looked away. His cheeks took on a slight pink flush, but before Arthur could think on it, he said, "Probably a good thing you ran, then. Imagine the alimony you'd have to pay after the divorce."

And Arthur couldn't help it. He laughed.

"I should probably have asked," Merlin said, sometime later. "Did you have a destination in mind, or should I just drop you on the edge of Hyde Park and make my getaway?"

It was said with a smile, but Arthur answered him none-the-less. "I, er, haven't quite thought about it, to be honest."

Merlin checked the clock on the dash. "I have time. Want me to just drive around for a bit?"

"With the meter running the whole time, I'm sure," Arthur grumbled, not quite under his breath.

Merlin laughed, and his hand waved at the meter on the dash, numbers unchanging on the screen. "It's not running, as you obviously hadn't noticed. Seeing as we were headed to London anyway, it didn't seem fair to charge you." Then, with a sneaky smirk that had Arthur's blood thrumming, he added, "But I can turn it on, if it'll make you feel better."

While Arthur could afford it, he ended up snapping, "Do, and you'll lose every bone in your finger."

Merlin grinned. It was like the man had no fear. He made a show of positioning his hands on the wheel and promised to 'behave himself for His Highness, Arthur the Prat'. Who might have wadded up his discarded tie and tossed it at Merlin's forehead. Only, he missed, and somehow the dog got it.

As Merlin drove into the city, and around, through parts both familiar and not, Arthur found himself enjoying the sudden freedom and anonymity afforded by their positions. So much so that without realizing it, he began talking.

The two ended up conversing about everything, from each other's parents – Single parent, I'm afraid, only my mum and my Uncle, Merlin explained, after Arthur divulged he'd only ever known his father. "Guess we're more alike than we'd thought."

Arthur shot a pointed look to the dog, and Merlin laughed.

They talked a bit more about school, and their plans. In their mid-twenties, neither of them were quite where they thought they'd be. Arthur wasn't independently wealthy – even if he'd worked hard for his position (no easy-outs in the Pendragon family), it was still in his father's business. Merlin, he was surprised to learn, was only a taxi driver part time, and only that for the last six months. He was apparently a chemist and a musician rolled into one, and after getting laid off recently, he'd turned to this because he needed some ready cash.

Arthur's hadn't been the only wedding between them, although Merlin's had certainly been with a more successful outcome.

"So… your best friend, married your other best friend?" Arthur asked to clarify.

He nodded, beaming, as if he'd personally seen the bride down the aisle. "Yes. One of the highlights of the year, to be honest."

Merlin regaled him with some of said highlights. Even from his somewhat removed experiences as Best Man, it sounded like it had been a much happier wedding ceremony than Arthur's (although admittedly, it wasn't hard to be).

"It helps that they're both made for each other," Merlin continued. "The moment Gwen clapped eyes on him, it was like magic," he said, with a little twinkle in his eye that spoke of a true love he'd seen and experienced, if only by proxy.

Arthur felt a brief pang for something he didn't have. Certainly when he'd imagined marriage he hadn't expected true love. With his money, status, and his father's influence, the most he could hope for was an amicable relationship. But perhaps marrying someone he loved was something he wanted. Had wanted more than he realized, apparently, when it actually came to saying 'I do'.

Or maybe that was just his commitment-phobia talking.

"What's wrong with marrying for love?" Merlin asked, as if detecting his thoughts. "It's modern times, after all. Take advantage of it while you can."

And, well, Arthur couldn't exactly argue with him. Even if he wanted to, he didn't have a leg to stand on after his recent failure.

"And you and love?" he found himself asking, taking a much more comfortable position in the back seat (or as comfortable as he could be, with the lumpy seams chafing against his bum). "Aside from Aithusa," he said with no small amount of sarcasm, which made Merlin smile, "has there been anyone special?"

He scoffed. "Hardly. My past relationships were… well, they've never been anything that serious." He glanced at the dog, then, once again giving it an absent pat. "Which is why I've decided to do some traveling. Gain some experiences, you know, have a bit of fun while I can."

"Traveling? Are you leaving?"

While the thought shouldn't have been that foreign – they were total strangers and Merlin was a taxi driver – the idea of him vanishing from the city filled Arthur with a sort of… pang. A regret.

Fuck. He was getting sentimental. He'd only been in the back of this cab for less than an afternoon. What would Morgana say if she could hear him now?

"I am," Merlin confirmed, not quite meeting his eyes. "I'm dropping this off at my old job, getting my car, and heading out of town." His palms moved along the edge of his steering wheel, long fingers splayed over the leather. "It's always been a bit of a dream of mine, and I've saved up enough notes to disappear for a year, if I want to. Gwen was supposed to come with, but now that she's all married, it's just Aithusa and I."

Arthur hoped he wasn't imagining the hint of longing in his voice. "It sounds like fun," he forced himself to say, even if the idea of Merlin just taking up and leaving made him feel like he'd swallowed one of Leon's biscuits the wrong way.

The idea of taking off and traveling for a year should have been horrifying. But hearing Merlin talk, it sounded fantastic.

And talk he did. Immediately Merlin started telling him all about the sights he wanted to see. Of which there were many. He said having spent his entire childhood in a small hamlet not far from the city had always given him a bit of wanderlust. Living in London the past five years evidently hadn't cured him of it either, and he was determined to see as much of Europe as he could before starting work again the next year.

Arthur couldn't help but envy him. Every vacation he'd ever taken, everything he'd ever done, had been planned. His whole life had been laid before him, either by his father or Arthur's own anal compulsion to plan his life down to the last minute. Running off with nothing but a few bags, the dog, and a car for a whole year was something he could only dream about. It was so foreign, and yet, sounded so unpredictable, so fantastic, that Arthur was hit with a pang of longing so strong it almost bowled him over.

"And you?" Merlin finally asked, after detailing the Grecian shore and a friend with a boat he hoped to sail with there. "What plans do you have next?"

Arthur had been trying his best not to think about them. Which… he should have been – according to the clock on the dashboard, he'd been in this cab almost four hours. For the first time, he was grateful he'd ditched his mobile just that morning; No doubt his father was frantically looking for him – to disown him if nothing else – but Arthur didn't care about that as much as he had just hours ago.

"I guess… Apologize?" It sounded quite insufficient, and his wince said as much. "I won't be marrying her, obviously, but I need to make amends with my father before he disowns me." Not that Arthur needed his money anymore – not when he had enough of his own – but he still loved the man, even if he was so infuriating. "Assuming I still have my job, that is. Morgana – that's my sister – was pretty much left holding the bag, as it were, when I ran off. She'll be furious when I show up."

"What do you do? For a living, I mean?"

"I'm manager of one of my father's corporations. It's his, technically, but I built it myself from the ground up. It's a gadgetry factory, of sorts – we have a few of our own mines, so we can ship both precious metals and mass-produced products to different parts of the world."

"…Oh. Right."

"What?" Arthur said, latching on to that tone with more desperation than he was proud of.

If he'd didn't know better, he'd say Merlin was fidgeting, running a hand through his hair, and massaging the steering wheel with more vigor than was warranted. "I guess it's just… I thought, if you didn't have anywhere to go…"

It took a few seconds for Arthur to realize what this strange man was asking, and when he did, it was a light had suddenly flipped on, making his world clear and bright like he'd never seen before.

"You mean- are- are you suggesting I should… go? Go traveling, with you?"

Holy fuck, that sounded… fuck, that sounded fantastic.

Merlin, however, didn't interpret his tone that way, his expression shuttering. "Er, sorry. That's- that's a bit sudden, isn't it? And stupid. I mean, we hardly know each other, right? I guess- well, I just-"

"…Were you serious?"

Merlin's eyes snapped to his, their gazes locking in the mirror. "What?"

Arthur tried hard to swallow past the sudden dryness in his throat, wishing for a glass of water. "Were you serious?"

Merlin blinked. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he blinked again. Slowly, ever so slowly, he nodded. "…Yeah."

The car was parked. At some point, Merlin ad stopped them by a park, the sun was gone behind the trees. People passed by outside the windows, the pulse of London thrumming on the sidewalks around them like a living vein. It was Arthur's home, and the place he was meant to be.

He had spent enough years being who he was meant to be. And, for the first time in weeks, he found himself agreeing to something he knew he wasn't going to regret.

"Yes. Yes! I… I'll go with you."

Merlin spun around in his seat. The answering grin was like a shot of adrenaline to his heart.

Arthur knew he'd made the right choice.

Ten months later

Morgana was sitting in a café in Northern London, enjoying the spring weather. For the first time in months it was warm enough to leave her flat without a trench coat, something she was taking full advantage of in her pleated skirt, tight blouse, and winter tan. And if anyone else sitting nearby also took advantage of it, that was all the better.

The waiter had just dropped off her latte, taking a not-so-subtle peak down her blouse while he did, when her mobile rang. It was a video call from a foreign number and Morgana let it ring. It wasn't until the third time in a row it called that she grew curious enough to actually answer, but if she'd known the caller ID, she never would have picked up.

A familiar, tanned, blonde face filled the screen the moment she accepted the call. There were freckles along his nose from too much sun, blue eyes radiant and pinched in a smile. Sunglasses responsible for the tan lines around his eyes dangled in the v of his shirt, drawing attention to his flushed collar.

All of this she would have been happy to tease him about if it didn't make her so furious.

"Hello, Morgana."

"Arthur Pendragon," she seethed, knowing full well her tone came across loud and clear. "Do you realize how long it's been? You utter bastard!"

Arthur rolled his eyes at her tone, the damned pillock. "Calm down, Morgana. It's just-"

"Honestly, tell me! Do you?"

"Um, yes. Yes, I do."

"Go on, then. Tell me."

"Three months, since your birthday," he explained, like she was being particularly irritating.

"Since my- you idiot! A postcard is not a substitute for an actual call. A call you never made, despite the fact I saved you from the worst decision of your entire life! If I hadn't been there, you'd already be into a year of marriage with that… harlot. And what did I get as thanks? A postcard, and some fancy Italian handbag."

Well, in all fairness, it hadn't been just a handbag. It had been a handbag, boots, skirt, French perfume, several pairs of those imported jeans she always bought on her visit to the continent, and French wine (a fifty-year-old vintage, and not nearly as shabby as the things Arthur usually drank).

Arthur wasn't repentant. "It was more than a handbag, you harpy, and you know it. Besides that," he continued, "I talked to father, so I know for a fact he never blamed you for my rather humiliating escape. Quit being so dramatic."

Morgana rolled her eyes. "I assume you have a reason for calling, then? Lord knows you never come to me unless you need something." She took another sip of her drink, when a thought occurred to her. "Don't tell me that sweet boy you've been traveling with finally abandoned you." She didn't know much about the man Arthur had apparently taken up with while abroad, but he had gifted her the perfume, so he was already infinitely more interesting than Arthur (it wasn't hard to be, really). "Maybe if you were nicer to people, Arthur, you'd have more mates to go traveling with."

Instead of taking the bait, Arthur's face grew blank. She recognized it as the face that meant he was bracing for an explosion, and it immediately set her on edge. The last time he'd looked that way, he'd spilled wine all down her thousand-pound coat.

"…What," she didn't quite-ask.

"We're still traveling together. But that's not the reason I called. Well, it is, but… er, fuck, this is harder than I thought it'd be," he said, running an absent hand through his sparkling hair (the asshole – some of them actually had jobs).

But before she could dive down that particular tangent, without warning, her brother shoved his hand in front of the camera.

Why the hell was she staring at his left hand? "If you're trying to flip me off, we have…"

And then she noticed the gold band.

"Holy shit, you bastard!" She screeched, oblivious to the scare she'd given the table beside her. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Because why the hell didn't you invite me, and is this another wedding I need to rescue you from, and does Uther know? Which he most definitely didn't, or he wouldn't be calling Morgana.

But before she could decide on what she wanted to yell at him for first, a dark head popped up beside Arthur's. The camera shifted to accommodate both. A glimpse of a shoreline appeared in the background, but Morgana was too focused on the unfamiliar face to pay it much attention.

"Hullo, Morgana. It's nice to meet you," he greeted, a somewhat wobbly smile on his face.

She was assaulted with a mix of feelings, too many to name. Which was why she spent several seconds in silence, glaring at her brother, before directing her gaze to the stranger with such fervor he flinched. "Are you Merlin?"

"Yes."

"And you married... Arthur?"

"Um, yes?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Don't say it with a question, you idiot." Something moved out of camera, and Arthur yelped.

"She's your sister," he hissed. "I'm being polite."

Morgana pursed her lips, studying him long enough that Merlin started to squirm.

Finally, she let out a breath, leaning back with a toss of her hair. "Well. I'm relieved to know you won't be needing anymore wedding-day rescues. Just let me know if you need one from Uther - I've been looking for a way to piss him off lately, and you've provided the perfect opportunity."

Both of them visibly relaxed, shoulders slouching through the screen, lines disappearing from across their brows. "Thank you, Morgana," Arthur said, in a rare show of honesty. "That's... thank you."

"Yes, well. I expect a new pair sunglasses upon your return. Ciao!"

She hung-up before he could protest, smirk still on her lips.

At least that was one question answered. Maybe now Arthur wouldn't need anymore of Morgana's rescues. Hopefully he'd found someone to keep rescuing him for the rest of his life.

But if not, she could always use more perfume.

The End