It's an ordinary day.
Completely, totally, one-hundred-percent normal. Not a single special thing about it.
The temperature is mildly warm but not stifling (as usual), and in the corridors, servants are bustling about as they rush to complete their duties (as usual).
Inside one of the royal chambers, Merlin sits at Arthur's desk, writing a speech for him (as usual), and Arthur is relaxing in bed, eating breakfast at a leisurely pace (as usual). After he finishes, he'll yell at Merlin for not polishing his armor brightly enough, and then the two of them will head outside to train with the knights.
Just a usual, ordinary day.
Nothing special - at all.
"So, Merlin," Arthur says as he usually does whenever he wants to poke fun at his manservant or start some sort of conversation for his amusement.
"Yes?" Merin pokes his tongue into his cheek, wondering if he can get away with recycling the same wording from the last speech he wrote for Arthur.
Arthur takes a large bite of eggs and then asks, as though it were any usual conversation, "Do you have magic?"
For a moment, the quill stops.
Arthur's chewing does not.
"...Yes."
"Hmm."
The scritching of the quill begins once more.
Arthur takes a typically obnoxious slurp from his goblet. "Merlin?"
"Yes?"
"My eggs are cold," Arthur complains, and Merlin ignores him —
— as usual.