-3-

For the third Friday evening in a row, Arthur found himself alone at home, scrolling through the now famailiar website that held a library's worth of stories about him. He kept coming back to the one that had held his attention. "Legend" was now a guilty pleasure, one that he enjoyed in secret.

Merlin and Morgana shared the same fascination with the site, often squabbling over which Arthur story was more ridiculous. So far, things were at an impasse, and they've actually come close to quitting the site several times, but each time they swore they would never read another story, they'd find a new one and the process would start all over again. Arthur would roll his eyes at them, tell them to behave like the adults that they were, but he was always ignored.

"You know," Morgana had said one morning. "I'm getting pretty jealous over the attention you're getting." She had planted herself on the arm of his office chair, crossing her arms over her chest while she peered at the report he was going over. "Why should fictional you have all the fun?" She pouted.

The effect was comical. His sister had the looks that made people freeze in their tracks: pale, almost translucent skin, black hair, and starling green eyes all contributed to her ice queen reputation, but the people who knew her best knew that she had a 16-year-old boy's sense of humor. Seeing her features contorted into a childish moue was more than he could handle.

He chortled at her and said, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Fanfiction!" She swatted his hands off his laptop keyboard and pulled up the familiar website. With a few taps, she had the page listing stories about him open on the screen. "See?" she gesticulated at the screen. "Why are there a billion stories about you and not one about me?"

"And me," Merlin came through the door carrying a stack of files which he placed on Arthur's desk.

Morgana scowled at their friend. "Never mind you," Morgana said dismissively and turned back to her brother. "I'm just as popular as you, and I'm definitely better looking, so why aren't people paying attention to me?"

Arthur blinked at his sister. "You're not serious," there was disbelief in his voice. "Morgana, these are written as a past time, a hobby," he spoke slowly, as if talking to a child throwing a tantrum.

"I don't care," she countered. "I want my own stories." Morgana had stood up from her perch on Arthur's chair and sat on another one across his desk. She was still scowling.

"The world does not revolve around you, Morgana," Merlin looked at the woman who was clearly miffed. He would have laughed but he was ticking her off even more. "Besides," he added. "If we're talking about looks, I should have a few pages devoted to me, too."

Arthur goggled at the two people now sitting across him, amazement now on his face. "You two," he pointed a finger at both of them. "Are insane."

"And how is that bad?" Morgana asked, clearly in a snit.

Arthur dropped his face into his hands. Why? Why was he always being cornered by these two? Okay, Morgana he couldn't do anything about. There was no escaping his sister. His father adored Morgana, and usually gave in to whims. It made his life a living hell when they were younger, as he constantly tried to be the straighter of the two of them. But as they grew up, he realized that the best way to get over Morgana was to humour her. He pretended that her word was gospel, and she pretended that he didn't know what he was doing.

Merlin, on the other hand, was another species altogether. They met in University, were classmates in the general sciences class that all undergraduates had to take, and were assigned to be each other's lab partner as Merlin seemed to be the only one who wasn't awed by Arthur's social status. He had come from a more humble background, but his own reputation as the son of one of the most influential scientific minds in Britain was nothing to sneer at.

Predictably, Merlin had breezed through the course, and because he had patiently coached and tutored Arthur through the subject, Arthur had gotten by without much trouble. They became good friends after that. And even after declaring their majors-Arthur's was Business, and Merlin was a double major in Physics and Chemistry-their friendship flourished.

After graduating, Arthur had immediately apprenticed at his father's company. Without his knowledge, Merlin had applied-and was hired-at one of Pendragon Industries' subsidiaries, a research facility that sought to make better but inexpensive products for the medical industry. He was often the person sent to the PI headquarters, as he was one of the few staff members who wasn't intimidated by Arthur or his father.

Both his sister and best friend were level-headed, logical, and brilliant, so why were they fighting over this? "We're fighting over fanfiction?" Arthur asked. "This is bizarre, even for us." He shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"You would say that," Morgana was now seething. "Mr. Popular." She made it sound like it was a four-letter word.

Merlin was no help. He merely raised an eyebrow at Arthur. He knew Morgana was being absurd, but he loved taking every opportunity to rile Arthur. It snapped him out of his routine.

"Look," Arthur rubbed at his temples, hoping to erase the migraine that was now forming. "If it bothers you so much, why don't you write your own and publish it? Write some ridiculous story and," he struggled to find the right word. "And leave anonymous hints so that people see it and read it. Plant a few comments about how brilliant it is so that more people write more stories about you?"

Arthur was getting frustrated. It was a Thursday and he was due to make an appearance at a board meeting in a few hours. He didn't have time to soothe Morgana's ruffled feathers.

Morgana's eyes widened. Making her look younger than her 27 years. "You know what?" she said in a much calmer voice. "That isn't a bad idea."

"It isn't?" Merlin was confused. "Why isn't it?"

"Because, Merlin," Morgana now stood up and took the Merlin's hand, urging him to stand up as well. "I can make me as fabulous as I want."

Merlin frowned at Morgana. "But, wouldn't that be too obvious?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Morgana tilted her head to one side and knit her brows.

"Your writing style is, um, distinct," Merlin put a slight emphasis on the word.

Morgana's shoulders slumped. Merlin was right. She had graduated from university with a degree in literature and had made a name for herself by penning spy thrillers that were often on the best-seller list.

"Damn," she said. "Who would have thought that being talented would come at my disadvantage?"

Arthur was looking back and forth at the two of them. "I was kidding!" he practically said.

"Quiet," Merlin shushed him.

Arthur stared at Merlin. "What did you say?" His question went unanswered as Merlin turned to Morgana.

"What about this, Morgs," Merlin said, reverting to the nickname he had given Morgana. "I'll write your story and you can write mine! Deal?"

Morgana looked unconvinced. "I have no faith in your ability to type or write."

"Me either," Merlin said. "But don't you see? That will make it more believable!"

Morgana thought this over for a beat. "I suppose so," she paused again. "Okay, deal!" She let go of Merlin's hand and raised hers for a high-five. Merlin's palm slapped hers and they turned away from Arthur, clearly on their way out the door. They threw a dismissive "bye!" over their shoulders and left.

Arthur chortled at the remembrance. The last time he checked on them, they were seated across each other at an abandoned conference room, tapping away at their respective laptops, clearly engrossed in their make-believe world of pretend lives.

But who was he to sneer? He was engrossed in one as well. LadyInLavender was a convincing writer and he enjoyed the world she created. She captured his more overt traits perfectly, and he was almost suspicious that she was someone he knew. I mean, how did she know that he adjusted his collar when he was uncomfortable, or that he blinked just before answering a question he found to be ridiculous?

He pulled up "Legends" and saw that she had added a couple of new chapters. For the life of him, he couldn't explain why he was thrilled.

The first few paragraphs in and he realized that the story had branched out. Prince Arthur was out of battle and back at the castle. And she had introduced a new character. A love interest. She was unnamed as of the moment, but the way she was described was nothing short of, well, delicious. "Warm, dusky skin and curls the color of night," he read aloud. He was intrigued.

A short while later, Arthur was left staring at his screen. He saw the story in his head. He could feel this unnamed woman's hand in his, he could almost hear her voice-she was nearly real to him.

"This is insane," he whispered. This is a story about a fictional him, he had no reason to feel involved. He looked at the author's name again. LadyInLavender.

"Dammit," he muttered as he clicked on her name and pulled up an empty author's profile page. It listed her pen name, the date she joined, and below that, the stories she had written. Or rather, the one story she has written. Beside her name was a link that said "send this author a message." Against his better judgement, he clicked on it and wrote out a note.

"Lovely story, LadyInLavender," he began. "I can't wait to read more." He paused as he considered what name he should put in the "from" field. "Ah, screw it," he said. "A.P." he typed before clicking "send." And if his hands trembled as he did, no one was there to confirm it.