Episode 2 – Dissension in the Ranks

Disclaimer: I swear to God, I didn't know the second last episode of Merlin Season 2 would be about some chick trying to bring Uther's reign to an end, and magic back to Camelot! I think I'm psychic! Either that or it really is true that great minds think alike… Anyway, thought I should give credit where credit's due as far as the lyrics in the last episode are concerned. So thanks to Tim Rice and Elton John for their lyrics to "I just can't wait to be King".

Merlin leaves the guest room and heads for his chambers. When he arrives, Gaius is sitting at his apothecary table, mumbling a chant under his breath and pouring something that looked like jelly crystals into a tube of green gunk over a Bunsen burner. When he hears Merlin come in he looks up and almost drops the test tube. 'Oh! Merlin, I wasn't expecting you back until after you'd done your chores in the stables…'

'Finished them yesterday' Merlin informs him. Tilting his head to the side curiously, he takes a step closer. 'What are you doing, Gaius? Is someone sick?'

'No, no… this is just my own little side project' the old man says, mysteriously. 'It's a spell I've been working on for a long time, I'll say that much'.

'A spell?' says Merlin, eagerly. 'Why don't you let me help? I'm getting pretty good at sorcery. The other day I cleaned Arthur's armour without touching it. I really think I'm getting the hang of…'

'I'm not sure if your power is strong enough yet to help out with this particular spell, my dear boy' Gaius tells him.

Merlin frowns; his feelings hurt. 'You know how powerful I can be. You told me so yourself. You're frightened of how much I've learned in so short a time, remember?'

'That doesn't mean you have the power to influence people's minds…' Gaius begins to say before he realises he's said too much. Merlin's jaw drops.

'But Gaius… isn't that against free will? You once told me anything that makes a person do something they wouldn't normally do is black magic!'

Gaius closes his eyes for a long moment. Opening them again, he nods, slowly. 'That I did. But there are varying degrees of black…'

'Yes' Merlin interrupts, angrily. 'Black, blacker and blackest! Gaius… you're against mind control. So who is it you're planning on influencing?'

Gaius wouldn't meet his eyes. 'Uh… um… Uther, actually'.

Merlin slumps into the seat on the other side of the table. 'Seems like everyone's plotting against Uther'.

Gaius looks up at his young charge. 'I wouldn't call what I'm doing plotting. Just a minor… attitude adjustment'.

Merlin managed a half-smile. 'Pity you weren't going for a major one. 'Cause if you were, I'd be all for taking away his hatred of magic. He was this close…' (he holds up his finger and thumb, millimetres apart) '…to burning me at the stake for heresy, just because Arthur's friend's servant made my scar go away. I had to get her to put it back, or risk being the shish-kebab at a block party barbeque'.

Gaius has a funny look on his face that Merlin's not quite sure he likes. Finally, after some contemplation, he says, 'I don't know why you'd want to get rid of that scar, personally. I like it. I think it gives your face… character'.

'Gwen likes it, too. Although not quite for the same reason as you' Merlin says, blushing slightly. 'Anyway… what is it you want to change Uther's mind about?'

'Nothing. I mean… it's just something between him and me. Nothing to worry your pret… your head about. Anyway, I must be going. I've got things to see, people to do…'

Gaius pauses, frowns thoughtfully and turns back to Merlin. 'Strike that. Reverse it. I've got people to see, things to do'

Merlin laughs. 'I get it. Meanwhile, I think I'll work on that spell to get tomato sauce out of cheesecloth. Arthur can be such a slob, sometimes'.

'Oh' Gaius says, before he leaves, 'By the way… I think you should go and feed some Kibble to the dragon. He's getting mighty feisty down there. I don't think Uther's guards have been feeding him regularly enough. If he's not fed soon, he might just fix himself a mid-knight snack. Hahaha… Get it? A mid-knight snack?'

Merlin rolls his eyes. 'Yes, I get it. And yes, I'll go make sure he's taken care of. We wouldn't want a ravenous dragon on our hands. Especially not one who's got a bone to pick with the king'.

'Hahaha' Gaius laughs as he leaves the room. 'Bone to pick… Hilarious…'

Arthur is nervous about taking the first step in Eris' plan to discredit his father. The man wasn't easy to fool at the best of times. But to make him think he's gone crazy… that seemed close to impossible. He just wasn't sure if it would work, but Eris had assured him it would. He was already highly paranoid, right? And deathly afraid of germs. The villagers had been bitching for years about the fact that their king wouldn't make trips down east of the river, but they didn't realise it was because he was terrified of catching cholera or typhoid fever, or some other exotic disease from the drinking water - or even just breathing the same air as poorer people. Whenever someone from outside the castle gates wished for an audience with the king, the man made them stand at least ten metres away from his throne, and if the person looked unwashed, they had to be bathed, deloused and sanitised before being allowed into the throne room at all!

Phase one of the plan had already been set in motion. That had been Gwen's job. Arthur, of course, had managed to sweet talk her out of hating him over the newspaper thing, by promising to publicly announce her as his girlfriend. Whether or not he actually got around to doing it was neither here nor there. But she seemed appeased, and was quite happy to dump a load of scarab beetles in Uther's hunting garb. Arthur stands outside his father's chambers and waits for his lady of the moment to return, and signal that the plan is well and truly underway.

Gwen appears at the door to Uther's chambers and nods her head twice – their signal for It's Done – then disappears down the stairs before Uther decides to come up and get dressed for his weekly pheasant hunting excursion. Arthur ducks into his own quarters and waits for the screaming to start. He knows his old man all too well. No doubt once he discovers the beetles – one of his least favourite creatures – he'd jump up on top of his desk and shriek like a woman until someone came and removed every last one of them.

Like clockwork, the bloodcurdling screams start and Arthur bolts into the next room. 'Father' he cries at Uther, who is cowering on the desk like a lady frightened of a tiny little mouse. 'What's going on?'

'You can't see them?' Uther says, looking panicked. 'They're all over the place! All over my bed… oh… and now some of them are on the floor…'

Arthur pretends not to know what he's talking about, yet he can see the beetles as plain as day. 'Father… there's nothing there' he says, biting his lip. 'Are you sure you're all right? Did you get much sleep last night? Maybe you're having one of those nightmare-while-you're-awake situations…'

Uther glares at his son, indignantly. 'I am not suffering from sleep deprivation, and I am most certainly not seeing things! There are beetles on my bed, I tell you! And they're in my hunting robes, and now they're making their way to the floor! Argh! Oh, watch it! One of them is trying to climb up the side of your boot! Squash it, squash it! Kill them all!' Uther puts both hands over his face, and moans with fear. Meanwhile, Arthur stomps over the floor in his riding boots, missing bugs here but actually standing on a stray one there. It had to look like he was humouring his crazy old man. Leaning over the bed he makes as if to scoop up a handful of imaginary beetles. Uther growls in frustration. 'No, no, no! How can you not see them? Oh… one of them is climbing up your tunic now! Dirty, disgusting things! They eat the corpses of dead people! That's why they're called Scarab beetles. Did you know that? You've got a dead-flesh-eating insect on you!' He covers his face again, as if he can't bear to look.

Arthur looks down and brushes the bug off his tunic with a nonchalant flick of the wrist, thinking to himself that it's probably lucky he's not composed of dead flesh then, but didn't say it aloud. 'There. Gone. You'll have to tell me where the rest are, Father, because I honestly can't see them'.

After about a half-hour of this, Arthur emerges from his father's quarters feeling like he should be given a BAFTA for his acting prowess. Uther hadn't wanted to go back to bed but he did allow Arthur to throw a blanket over him on his sofa in the adjoining sitting room, so he could get some much needed rest. The poor man – Arthur couldn't help feeling a twinge of guilt and sympathy for his father at this point, but not enough to abandon the plan altogether – had curled up into a foetal position and made Arthur sweep the room for bugs, just in case!

It was shaping up as a busy morning indeed for Gwen. First there was the chore with the beetles to take care of; then she had to go help Morgana get ready for the Masquerade Ball. It wasn't for several hours yet, but when you're the ward of the King of Come-a-lot, you have to look your absolute best. If that means bathing, exfoliating, waxing, a full facial, mani-pedi and hair appointment into the bargain, you have to start extra early! Gwen sighs as she opens the door to Morgana's chambers and finds the Lady fussing over a zit on her chin. For Christ's sake, Gwen thinks, it's barely visible, don't have a cow! But Morgana has already begun flailing her hands about and making a terrible keening sound. You'd think she'd had another one of her visions, not discovered a tiny facial imperfection, Gwen thinks to herself. Half her luck. I'd love to have porcelain skin that rarely sees a blemish, let alone the volcanoes I have to deal with! She recalls the last time she had to step out with a zit on her forehead, and shudders. That had not been pretty!

'Oh… Good. Gwen, you're here' Morgana says, sounding relieved. 'I need my Mabelline foundation. I've got a… a….'

'You can say it, My Lady' Gwen says, rolling her brown eyes when her boss had her back turned. 'It's called a pimple'.

'Pimple?' Did you say pimple?'

Gwen spins around. Behind her stands the Goddess Eris herself. 'Oh… Your Excellence' she says, and bows. 'How may I help you?'

'It is not you who has to help me' says Eris. 'I overheard your conversation, and I think I can help you. Make-up!' This she hollers so loudly that both Morgana and Gwen jump.

Eris's pixie-like assistant appears out of nowhere, and hurries over to her side. She casts a glance over her employer's perfect complexion and frowns. 'What's the problem?'

'Not me, her' Eris says, and points to Morgana. Camilla turns and sees the anomaly straight away. With a single pat of her powder puff, the zit is gone. 'Oh, thank you' Morgana sighs. 'How can I ever repay you?'

Camilla shrugs. 'You don't have to repay me. It's what I do'.

Gwen frowns, thoughtfully; then says 'You didn't happen to "fix" a little problem for Merlin this morning, did you? If it was you, you almost got him in terrible trouble'.

'Oh I know, and I'm sorry' Camilla replies, looking scared all of a sudden. 'I put it right, I swear I did!'

'I should hope so' Gwen retorts. 'Because you could have cost his life! Uther considers the use of magic as a capital crime, and the participation in such magic as treason – which pretty much carries the same penalty'.

'She did say she was sorry' Eris reminds Gwen. She turns to Camilla and gestures to the door with her eyes. 'Come, Camilla! We have much work to do'.

The moment they're out the door, Morgana stares after them, curiosity burning in her green eyes. 'Now, what could those two be up to?' she wonders aloud. 'And just exactly who are they, anyway? I've never seen them before'.

Aware that Morgana isn't in on the plot against Uther, Gwen has to think quickly.

'Oh… they're just some guests from out of town. For the Masquerade Ball' she adds, quickly. 'King Uther generously put them up for the night'.

'Yes well, so he should. How many guest rooms has this place got?' Morgana takes up her silver plated hair brush and starts combing her glossy black waves. 'He could turn it into a hotel if he wanted to make a bit of extra cash'.

'Extra cash?' Gwen scoffs. 'He's the richest guy in the kingdom. He's The King, for Christ's sake'.

'Good point. But still…' Morgana stops brushing for a moment. 'Do you suppose the royal family ever runs out of money?'

Gwen chuckles. 'Not unless they stop charging the rest of us taxes! Now, do you want the vanilla or lavender bath oils?'

The king's court, where members of the public could have an audience with their ruler over matters of extreme urgency, was held every day just after lunch. After tending to such kingly matters as brushing his teeth and visiting the loo, Uther heads for the throne room. As usual, his loyal knights, who are handpicked from the sons of noblemen to protect him, are standing at either side of his throne, still as statues but ready for trouble if trouble presented itself. Among them of course is his son, Arthur, whom he nods to, but hasn't quite forgiven for treating him like an old man who's steadily losing his marbles, over the bug incident earlier. He had been so sure those beetles were there! How could Arthur have not seen them? And yet he went about the pretence of seeing them and destroying them when the silly git obviously didn't have a clue what he was looking at!

Uther makes himself comfortable on the throne and calls for the first of his constituents. What he isn't prepared for is the monstrosity that walks in. Uther is so shocked by the villager's appearance that his elbow slips off the arm of his chair and he almost hits his cheek on solid wood!

The woman in front of him is in her middle-age. Her hair is so dirty Uther can barely tell what colour it is underneath the grime, but judging by her eyebrows, she's probably blonde. Her brows are about the only part of her face that isn't covered in festering boils, or gnarled, twisted skin. Worst of all, she appears to have no nose!

'What is the meaning of this?' Uther shouts to his guards. 'She's obviously suffering from some hideous contagion! How dare you grant her entry to my throne room! Take her away…'

'Father' says Arthur, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'She may be a victim of sorcery'.

'Well did you ask her?'

'Uh… no. Well… at least, I didn't…' Arthur falters, but Galahad steps in to vouch for him. 'My Lord, she has Leprosy, but she would not leave when we asked her to and well… no one wanted to actually touch her, so…'

'What about your swords, you fools?' Uther rants. 'You could have threatened her with those, or at least with arrest!'

'But she's done nothing wrong, Sire' Galahad tries to explain. 'What do we arrest her for?'

Oh… Uther thinks… Yes. There is that tiny little matter of her not actually having done anything illegal, per se. He relented. 'Just keep her away from me', he mutters. Glaring at the woman out of the corner of his eye, the king asks, 'So… what is it you have come to me for, Crone? I don't have a cure for your ills. Not even my personal physician can cure Leprosy'.

'I'm not asking for a cure, King Uther' the woman says, in a raspy voice. 'As I know none is forthcoming. I'm merely asking you to see me. See what your intolerance of magic has done to my people. Most of them are suffering from some kind of horrible disease that can probably be fixed with the right spell or potion, yet you will not have that. You choose to let us all die…' she takes several steps forward, ignoring the knights behind Uther's chair, most of whom have either drawn their swords or look like they are about to. Her eyes are fixed on the king; and the king alone.

'I warned you, woman, don't come any closer' Uther says, holding up a hand. 'Stop! I command you…'

'And what are you going to do, exactly?' she asks. 'Your knights don't want to touch me, and I don't particularly care if they smite me with their blades. I mean, would you, in my position, looking like this? I'm not afraid of death. But if they do slay me where I stand, my blood – riddled with Leprosy – lands in your lap. Is that what you want?' She takes even more steps, and Uther is by now pale and clammy with perspiration born of his fear of pathogens. He feels a panic attack coming on, but doesn't want to look unmanly in front of his very manly knights, so swallows down his fear and clears his throat before speaking. If he hadn't, there was a pretty good chance his voice would have come out several octaves higher than normal!

'I see you' he tells her. 'And I am very sorry for your situation…'

'Oh I bet you are' she says. 'You have no idea… But you will'. Before Uther could raise a hand to stop her, she'd placed a calloused finger right in the middle of his chest. 'You, Uther Pendragon, have the blood of my people on your hands! You will suffer just as they have suffered'.

'Get her off me' Uther cries, no longer worried about sounding macho in front of his protectors. 'Make her stop!'

Galahad and Pellinor look at each other as if to say, 'I'm not touching her, are you?', so Arthur, groaning, jumps forward and grabs the lady by the arm. 'You're under arrest' he hisses at her.

'For what?' she asks.

'For threatening the king! What else?' He frogmarches her toward the large double doors. As soon as they're out of earshot he whispers, 'Eris? Is that you in there?'

'Who's Eris?' the woman asks. 'And I resent the implication that I'm wearing a costume! This is me; boy… this is what your father does to people who displease him! I only hope you're going to make a better king than he does…'

'Alright, alright' Arthur says, as he hoists her through the heavy doors and out into the hallway. 'My mistake… I thought… no, never mind. I apologise'.

He lets go of her the minute the door swings shut behind them. 'You can go. I have no quarrel with you. But don't come back, or you will be shown to the dungeon'.

She looks him up and down with what little eyes she has, beneath her swollen, pus-filled lids. 'You're a looker, but it's a pity you're just like your old man' she spits. 'Arrogant, and pig-headed. If I were a sorcerer, I'd turn you into a pig…'

'Well, it's just as well you're not, then, isn't it' Arthur replies, tiredly. 'Be off with you, Crone'.

She narrows her eyes (if that's even possible, they're already practically slits in her face) and hisses, 'By the first light your father will know my pain!' then vanishes into thin air.

It takes Arthur a couple of seconds to realise what's just happened (well, he is blonde), then he throws his shield to the stone steps in frustration. 'Damn it to hell' he curses. 'She was a witch, after all!'

'Father's been cursed' Arthur says, as he enters the servants quarters without so much as a knock. 'Hey' says Merlin, crossly. 'You're always on at me for just barging in'.

'Oh… sorry' says Arthur, sarcastically. 'Would you like me to go back out and formally introduce myself?'

'Yeah, actually I would' says Merlin, and the moment Arthur's out of sight he mutters, 'One rule for me, another rule for everyone else, 'cause I'm Arthur Pendragon, Prince of…'

'Merlin, it's me, Arthur, can I come in?' Arthur drones from behind the heavy wooden door.

'I suppose you might as well' Merlin replies. Sliding the spell book he was reading under the edge of his bed, Merlin stands up and gives his room a quick once-over. Arthur was likely to make a snide remark about his housekeeping talents – or lack thereof – and quite frankly, Merlin wasn't in the mood. He was due to escort Camilla Everhart to the Masquerade Ball this night, and he didn't have a clue what he was going to wear.

Thankfully everything was in its place. That would have been due to Gaius more than anything he'd done himself. His mind was… well, away with the fairies at the moment.-or should we say; pixies?

Once he was inside, Arthur couldn't stop pacing the room. 'What am I going to do, Merlin? I thought the woman was the goddess Eris. I mean, she was supposed to help make Father go mad, and so far all she's done is brainstorm a few ideas! Then in walks this woman, and I think it's Eris in disguise – pretty darn good one, too – but it isn't, and now Father's been cursed with Leprosy! A real doozey of a case, too, if he ends up anything like her…' he shudders.

Merlin frowns at Arthur, perplexed. 'But I thought you wanted him to retire the throne! He'll have to now, won't he? If he winds up with Leprosy…'

'She didn't actually touch him' Arthur informs Merlin. 'Just poked him in the chest, and I doubt even true Leprosy can make its way through chain mail and undershirts. No… it sounded to me more like a curse'.

'I still don't see the problem'.

Arthur stops pacing and scowls. 'Hang on… you're right! Just because Eris isn't responsible, doesn't mean I can't make this work in my favour! Merlin, you're a genius! And the goddess is out of a job'. He heads for the door, his mind full of possibilities. Merlin's brain processes the news of Eris being fired in a single synapse, and he cries out before Arthur can leave the room. 'Wait! Can't we at least let them stay for the ball?' He gives Arthur his best puppy-dog eyes. 'I'm supposed to be escorting her handmaiden, and well…I haven't had a date in ages'.

Arthur looks Merlin up and down; then smirks. 'Well, I hope you're not planning on wearing those old threads. You look like you swept the courtyard in them'. Having had the last laugh, he leaves the room, still chuckling to himself.

Merlin bites his lip, then yells, 'That's because I did, you royal prat!'

The Ball was scheduled to start in an hour or so, and Gwen had just finished helping Morgana on with her corset and dress, make-up and the silver tiara she planned to wear over her elaborate hairdo. It was probably just as well she only needed half an hour to get ready, herself. Luckily Morgana had been in high spirits (she was being escorted by Sir Galahad, who, while not as dreamy as Lancelot, still turned quite a few heads in his own right) and had lent her a royal blue dress, one of her "old things" that she was going to "throw out, anyway". Gwen spent a half hour taking out the seams in the bodice (Morgana was frightfully skinny) before slipping into the gown and running a brush through her dark curls. Thankfully, Camilla Everhart showed up, kindly (and quickly) doing her make-up for her. If Gwen had still had the slightest of crushes on Merlin, she supposed she would have been jealous of the gorgeous little handmaiden, but she wasn't. Her brain was filled with Arthur, and how he'd promised to escort her to the Ball and formally announce to everyone who was anyone that they were an item.

So imagine Gwen's face when she walks past the Goddess Eris' rooms and hears Arthur's voice! Ducking into the alcove beside the heavy door, she struggles to eavesdrop on the conversation through the keyhole. She can just see Arthur by the end of the bed (what the hell's he doing standing anywhere near her bed, she thinks, her heart sinking in her chest). It was hard to read his expression from her vantage point, but she could hear the anger in his voice, all right!

'You haven't done anything so far to convince me that you should have a stake in the kingdom if and when it comes to that' he was saying. 'Yes, the bug thing worked, but my father is no more likely to spend the night in Broadmoor Asylum than I am'.

'You wait', Eris replies, from wherever in the room she is standing. Gwen couldn't see her yet. 'It may not happen tonight, but it will happen'.

'That's what they said about Pantene' Arthur sulks. 'I still haven't seen any proof of that, yet, either'.

'Have patience, young prince' says Eris, and suddenly she comes into view. Gwen has to stop herself from gasping. The goddess was… well, a goddess! Wearing a long lilac chiffon and silk gown, with her dark hair curled around her milky white shoulders, she was breathtakingly beautiful, and Gwen suddenly realises she doesn't stand a chance. Especially not when the goddess is running her hand over Arthur's chest like that… oh, Gwen thinks, wistfully, he scrubs up so fine! Get your hands off him, you skanky ho!

He's mine! She can barely curb a desire to rush in there and pull the goddess off of him, but remembers her place. She's not supposed to be here, listening to their conversation, for starters!

'Your father will relinquish the crown' Eris was saying. 'Once he sees his face in the morning, the last vestiges of his sanity will be gone. I promise you that'.

'That was you?' Arthur gasped, incredulously. 'I thought…'

'Of course it wasn't me! Do you think I could look like that, even on my worst day? No, it was an old friend of mine, who owed me a favour, so I called her on it. But the curse is as real as I'm standing here. She's really a very experienced sorcerer, is Magda'.

Arthur appears mind-boggled, but he still wasn't backing away from Eris, Gwen notices! The goddess now has both hands on his shoulders, and Gwen seethes with jealousy.

'So… Blondie' Eris was saying, fiddling with his jacket lapels flirtatiously, 'Are you escorting me to this Ball tonight, or am I going to go alone, like a pathetic spinster?'

Oh, good one, Gwen thinks, venomously. Way to appeal to his sense of chivalry! Don't fall for it, Arthur! You're going with me, remember?

'Uh… um… er… well…'

Both women look at him now, expectantly. Only Arthur doesn't know one of them is standing behind the door, her fists clenched so tightly her nails are cutting into the palms of her hands!

'Well?' Eris asks. 'Look in the mirror. We do make a striking couple, don't you think?'

'Uh… Sure. I suppose'.

'So come with me. Be my date. What do you say?' Even from Gwen's perspective, she could tell Eris was giving Arthur the full measure of her charms. 'I could make it worth your while'.

'Okay' says Arthur, and Gwen felt like screaming!

Uther was not having a good day. First there were the bugs, then that awful woman during open court, and now he was sure he was hearing things. Twice while he readied himself for the Ball he heard someone whispering. When he stopped to try to hear what was being said, or where it was coming from, the whispering stopped. Now, as he combed what little hair he had left and put his crown at a jaunty angle on his head, he'd swear he heard the name "Queen Mab". He hadn't heard that name in years – so why now? And who would be talking about that crazy old cow, anyway? Anyone worried about their own necks around Come-a-lot would know that you do not say that name in these parts. But there… there it is, again!

"Queeen Maaaab"

Uther frowns and leans over, toward the place where the sound is coming from. As he was about to get on all fours and listen more closely, out pops a tiny grey mouse from the hole in the skirting board, and runs straight up his pants leg!

Uther lets out an almighty "Whoop" of surprise, and starts laughing like Daffy Duck. Not because the feeling of the mouse running up his leg is particularly ticklish, but because he's so freaked out, he doesn't know what else to do!

Naturally, people come running when they hear the king carrying on like a hyena on crack, and stop to whisper and point as Uther hops around his chambers on one leg, trying desperately to catch the mouse before it reaches the fork in the road, so to speak. Oh, no, that would not do! To have a filthy little rodent sniffing around the family jewels… and what if he decides he's hungry? Uther had heard about the sharp little teeth of common house mice, but since he didn't believe the castle ever got mice, he didn't think he'd ever have to deal with them. Now, he was well and truly dealing with them!

Gaius shuffles into the room, the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea (because the old man has quite the B.O problem), and makes his way over to Uther. 'Sire… Whatever is the matter?'

'A mouse! There's a mouse in my britches, Gaius! And the little bugger is quick, too. He's just run from one leg to the other. Thank Christ he didn't stop in the middle or…'

'Uh… I don't think we want to go there, do we, Sire?' Gaius says, reproachfully. 'There are womenfolk present…'

'Ah… Yes. Sorry about that' Uther says, smiling sheepishly out at the crowd gathered at his door. 'Good day. Hope you've all had a wonderful tour of the castle'.

'They're not here on a guided tour, Your Majesty' Gaius tells him. 'They're journalists'.

'Oh bloody hell! Get them out of here! OUT!' Uther rushes at his chamber door with a wildly waving hand as flashbulbs go off in his face. Terrific, he thinks. Why can't Iever be caught with my pants down in style, like Arthur? With a lady friend betwixt my thighs, instead of some damn rodent!

Speaking of which, the mouse, seemingly having it's fill of Uther's undergarments, reappears at his right foot and darts across the room toward the nearest wall. 'Be off with you' Uther spits at it. Humiliated at being caught in such a ridiculous situation, and by the media, no less, Uther considers not showing up for the Ball. But the idea was just ludicrous. He'd thrown the damn thing himself, in honour of some cause he couldn't even remember the name of, and now he'd have to front up and face the music. As well as the whispers, giggles and innuendo that was bound to be doing the rounds once those reporters started opening their traps. He could just see the headlines now – "Fears for King's Sanity" was a likely one; or else "Uther does a merry dance – Before the Ball's even begun!"

The king stands before his long, oval mirror and straightens his crown. Dignified, he thinks. That's the key. Look dignified. None of this jaunty crown bullshit. Who do you think you are, K-Fed?

Finally satisfied with the way he looks, Uther braces himself for the onslaught, and steps out his chamber doors…

The royal ballroom was full to bursting with everyone Guinevere had ever known and most she didn't. Of course, the great majority are wearing masks, adorned with feathers and glittering paint or sequins, horns, whatever took their fancy. It wasn't hard to find Lancelot. The fool looks like Zorro in his black mask and wide brimmed hat, but the cheesecloth shirt is a dead giveaway. Gwen takes his arm reluctantly, and narrows her brown eyes as soon as Lancelot is otherwise occupied, admiring himself in any reflective surface they pass. I'll fix you, Arthur, she thinks. I'll make sure you never forget me, not in a million years! Not even for some jumped-up Goddess who has to call on favours to get her dirty work done! Oh yeah, I'll make you so sorry you ditched me for that half-arsed deity! And I know just how, too…

'Pig in blanket?'

'Huh?'

Gwen turns her head and is confronted with something that looks like a baby's finger wrapped in deep-fried pastry. Lancelot was wiggling it in front of her face.

'Uh – no thanks' she replies; dodging a manically dancing couple who were getting too close to the banquet table. 'Suit yourself' Lancelot mumbles, and downs the foul concoction in one mouthful. Gwen makes a face to herself and scans the dance floor for her newest nemesis. Maybe if she can get close enough, she can swing out a leg and trip the bitch! That'd do, for starters…

'Dance?'

'Not yet' Gwen answers, distractedly. 'I have to work my way up to it, first'.

'Oh' grins Lancelot, his mouth still full of the pig-in-blanket. 'You mean; you have to get shit-faced, first?'

'No – but there's an idea' Gwen says, brightly. 'How about you go and get us a drink, Lancey-boy? I'll just stay here and keep your place by the finger food'.

'Sounds like a plan' Lancelot says, finally swallowing his gobful. 'Back in a tic'.

Gag me, Gwen thinks, rolling her eyes. He might be pretty but jeez, a girl would need a lobotomy to put up with that, full-time! Does the blighter even have a personality?

'Hi, Gwen'

She turns to see Merlin in black from head to toe, with none other than Camilla Everhart on her arm. Oh great, Gwen thinks. How am I supposed to get through a conversation with her without giving away the fact that I hate her boss's guts? That she's got the date I want… the date I spent weeks trying to get to ask me to this damn thing, for this to happen! Grin and bear it, my arse!

'I like your dress' Merlin was saying. 'It looks familiar, though'

'It's one of Morgana's old things, okay/' Gwen grumbles. 'I had to take it out, the girl's skin and bone!'

'It suits you'. It's hard to be ticked off around Merlin, Gwen thinks. Why does he have to be so upbeat all the time? He's a servant, for Christ's sake!

'Thanks' she manages. 'You look… uh… what are you supposed to be, anyway?'

Merlin looks down at himself as if he's forgotten what he's wearing. 'It's not a costume, exactly' he tells her. 'I just felt kind of swashbuckling today, that's all'.

'That's it' Gwen says, trying a smile on for size. 'A pirate, of course! Very dashing'.

'Thanks' Merlin says. With a wink, he slides Excalibur out of its scabbard. 'Don't tell Arthur, but I borrowed his sword, just for tonight…'

Camilla giggles, and blushes prettily. Oh bloody hell, Gwen thinks; can't she look bad, like, ever? I blush and I resemble a sweating warthog, she blushes and she looks like fricking Tinkerbell! It's not fair!

'And just what do you plan to do with that sword?' says a voice from behind Merlin. The prince's man-servant goes pale, and winces. 'He's right behind me, isn't he?'

Gwen nods, narrowing her eyes at Arthur and Eris, who's looking mighty smug for someone who hasn't shown a single godly talent so far. Apart from making the wrong man's knees weak, of course!

'Oh… Uh… Gwen' Arthur sees her and goes even paler than Merlin. 'You look radiant tonight. I er… didn't think I'd see you here'.

'What, did you think I'd miss this?' Gwens asks him. 'Just because you called me at the last minute to tell me you'd forgotten that you'd asked someone else?' She makes a show of batting her eyelashes at Lancelot, who arrives with fruity cocktails in hand and a half-sozzled look on his face. 'Have you been doing shots with Galahad again?' Gwen asks him. 'Really, Lance… I was hoping to get in a dance or two before you got too falling-down drunk to manage a Quick Step'.

Arthur clears his throat, loudly. 'I'll dance with you, Gwen'.

He cops a furious look from Eris, but ignores her. 'Considering that I probably owe you one, anyway. After what I did, and all'.

Gwen chuckles. 'Owe me? You don't owe me anything, Arthur Pendragon! I'm a free woman… free to do as I please, and right now, I want to do…' She grabs Lancelot by the arm, almost spilling the drink he held out to her. 'Him'

Lancelot can't wipe the silly grin off his face. 'He-he-he… She wants to do me' he giggles like an idiot. Gwen takes the glass out of his hand and downs her cocktail in a few desperate mouthfuls, wipes her mouth and belches, loudly. 'Let's go, baby' she says to Lancelot, and pulls him out onto the dance floor with a finger hooked in his waistband. Arthur stares after her in shock that she'd actually turned him down; then remembers he has a date, too. 'Come on, let's dance' he tells Eris, who doesn't take kindly to being told what to do – especially not from a mere mortal man! 'Zip it' she commands, and all of a sudden, Arthur's mouth disappears! He grabs his face with both hands, his blue eyes growing large and panicked. 'Mmmmm! Mmmm!'

'Aw, now that's not very nice' says Merlin. 'Take it back'.

'I'll take it back when he learns not to be such a demanding, spoiled brat' Eris says, calmly. 'And that's for any of you who may have been thinking I don't have any powers at all. And before you start screaming magic, it's not. Well… Not really. I am a God, after all. If Uther decides to chop off my head for this, another one will grow back in its place'.

'Oh, oh! Like a worm?' asks a very tipsy Galahad. Morgana looks peeved, and Arthur was pretty sure he knew why. His adoptive sister was used to being on the man's arm; not the other way around!

Eris sighs dramatically. 'Yes, well… I suppose. But if anyone's now thinking that I'm not up to the job I was commissioned to do, they can take it up with me, personally! I saw Uther on the way down the stairs just now, and let me just say, he's not a happy camper. With what I've got planned for him later, you'll be calling for the men in white coats to come and take him away, and he'll go, quietly. I promise you that'.

'Well, as far as I'm concerned, later can't come fast enough' Arthur grumbles, the minute he has his mouth back in working order. 'This mask is getting itchy'. He shoves his silver mask up with the heel of his hand and scratches his nose. Merlin takes the hand of his date and bows, chivalrously. 'Will the lady kindly join me in a dance?'

'Of course' Camilla says, and the two sickening lovebirds head for the dance floor, which is filling fast, despite the terrible music. Nights in White Satin? Arthur thinks. Who the hell's the DJ here, Gauis? He turns toward the giant gramophone and almost falls over backward in shock. No, it's worse than Gaius, he thinks. It's the old man!

Upset at her inability to make Arthur suffer terribly for his crimes, Gwen sidles over to Uther, who's been unceremoniously kicked out of the DJ's chair by his son. Almost immediately the wall-trembling sounds of AC-DC fill the room as the lords and ladies get down to "You Shook Me All Night Long".

'Sire… I have something to tell you' Gwen says, in Uther's ear.

'What, Love? I can't hear you'.

'Your Highness… people are plotting against you…'

Uther puts a hand behind his ear. 'What?'

Gwen takes a quick look around to make sure Lancelot, Merlin or Morgana are nowhere to be seen, and grabs Uther by the arm. 'Come with me' she says, into his ear. 'I have something to tell you'.

She's not sure how she manages to get the king out of the ball without anyone noticing, but once she has him on his own, in his chambers, Gwen lets out a sigh of relief.

'Whoa' Uther interrupts; a finger in his ear. 'My ears are going to be ringing all night, now'.

'That's not important. Sir, you've got to listen to me. Whatever you think is going on with you – it's all a trick. It's a plot to make you think you're going crazy'.

Uther's suddenly very interested. 'Oh? And who would be behind this? Not Queen Mab? That senile old hag…'

'No' Gwen interrupts. 'It's not Queen Mab – whoever that is. It's… I'm afraid, Sire… It's your own son. It's Arthur'.

Uther looks at her as if she's the one going cuckoo, not him. 'How dare you presume to know the mind of my son! He wouldn't plot against me; he's in line for the throne…'

'Exactly' Gwen says. 'Why do you think he'd want you safely tucked away in Broadmoor, in a nice white room with Thorazine on tap? So he can assume the throne, himself – and bring magic back to Come-a-lot. Let's face it; you do have a lot of enemies willing to help him in his…'

She barely had the sentence out of her mouth before Uther was going apoplectic with rage. You might have reacted that way when I told you about the headlines this morning, she thinks, but doesn't say. Because she has a feeling he's not angry with Arthur (yet again). He's angry at her!

'My son does not want magic back in Come-a-lot!' Uther yells. 'My son is a good, God-Fearing Christian, with morals and values and…'

'A killer move in bed' Gwen finishes for him. 'Trust me…. The boy ain't as innocent as you think'. She winks, salaciously. 'He certainly curls my toes…'

'Do not speak of this!' Uther shouts. 'Get out of my room, handmaiden! Out!'

Gwen hurries to the door; then turns to have the last word.

'You'll see I'm right, King Uther' she says to him. 'Just keep your eyes open, and your wits about you. You'll see I'm right – that there are forces aligning against you, and that they're being led by none other than Arthur Pendragon, your son!' She slams the door as she leaves, her job done, and heads back down to the party.

Next on Merlin…

Will Uther discover Arthur's duplicity?

Will Gaius get Merlin on The Rack?

And who is Queen Mab, really?