Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin
A/N: Hey! Been a while, huh, guys? Hehe... I had more trouble with this chapter than I would've liked - hopefully you don't find it too rushed. But I managed to slip Morgana in there, so that's something.
"It's been a while, young warlock," the Great Dragon intoned, settling onto his usual rock platform.
"I've been busy," Merlin replied tautly, not really wanting to explain his homesickness.
"I see you've finally managed to attach your spell to Arthur," Kilgharrah noted.
Merlin sighed. "Yes, I put him to sleep then spent half the night attaching my modified teleportation spell to his dormant magic threads. Even though he can't actually do magic, he's highly conducive for..." Merlin trailed off and he stared at the dragon. The light orbs he'd been in the process of conjuring reacted by buzzing.
"How do you even know that?" the warlock asked incredulously.
Kilgharrah looked at him with an unamused expression.
Merlin winced. Right. The dragon was in a continuous state of darkness and imprisonment. What else was he supposed to do but watch the flow of magic and destiny around him?
"Then I suppose you know that I fulfilled your request?" Merlin asked.
Kilgharrah's eyes gleamed. "Yes, I can smell him," he said, giving Merlin a toothy smile.
"Well I'm not giving you the deer until after I've left," Merlin said firmly, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Dragons are messy eaters."
Kilgharrah grumbled, and settled his head on his forepaws. "I would prefer it if I could do the hunting myself..." he suggested slyly.
Merlin frowned. "Not until I find Balinor," he said.
Kilgharrah narrowed his eyes and growled. Some of the rocks underneath him crumbled.
"I am free where you are from," the dragon reminded indignantly.
"You murdered more than two hundred people the day I released you," Merlin growled back. "I will not, I repeat not, let that happen again."
"I give you my word that I will not harm the citizens of Camelot," the Dragon said calmly, raising his head.
Merlin looked at the stalactite-covered ceiling and sighed. He really did wish he could. In the future, during the time when his list allies were short, Kilgharrah would become one of his greatest sources of comfort, and he had to admit, one of his greatest friends. Seeing the dragon in his dank prison, scales graying and the deaths of his kin still fresh in his mind, made Merlin's heart ache. Still, in this state, there was no way he could trust the dragon, no matter how much he wanted to.
"I'm sorry Kilgharrah," Merlin said sincerely, looking the dragon in the eye, "but I know you far too well to take you for your word – not at this time."
The dragon growled menacingly.
Merlin imagined the dragon probably would've thrown flames at him if he hadn't known that Merlin could block them in his sleep.
"You are no kin of mine, if you cannot grant me this one thing," the dragon accused, eyes blazing.
Merlin stared back defiantly, but with a deep sadness. "Old friend, you know in your heart that you have too long considered the many revenges you could take against Uther. It has plagued your mind for a score of years and is not something that will leave simply because of your promise. I cannot trust you as I do in my world."
"Then leave, young warlock. My caves are not welcome to you this night," Kilgharrah said. Then he turned and spread his wings.
Merlin watched regretfully as the dragon launched himself off the rocks and into the small amount of space that allowed for flying.
"Do you still want the deer?" he asked, subdued.
Kilgharrah didn't answer. Merlin frowned. He knew the insolent dragon could hear him.
"I can bring him next time instead," he offered softly.
"I think that would be best," came the guttural reply.
Merlin sighed.
He put out his wizard's lights, leaving the cave a pit of milky blackness. Despite Kilgharrah's warning, Merlin stood there for a while. Without the moon, the night skies sent little light into the emptiness.
It was more peaceful than he'd thought it would be.
O o O
Merlin was much happier after eight hours of sleep and getting to deal with an excited (rather than his grumpy counterpart) Arthur, who was participating in a small jousting tournament. The next night wasn't quite as restful, but he was productive, and now that Gaius had reluctantly granted him a free afternoon, visiting the druids was a sure deal.
"Alright! Time to stop moping!" Merlin ordered cheerfully, strolling into the Camelot's underground cavern. He spread out his wizard's lights with a flourish, sending the entire cave into a state of daylight. "Kilgharrah!"
He heard the dragon growl.
"C'mon," he whined.
Nothing.
"I won't be long!" he promised. After a moment he said wryly, "I brought the deer, too!"
Merlin was wearing a satisfied grin when Kilgharrah dropped in front of him, landing with a loud thump.
"Very well, young warlock," the dragon said irritably. "What is it that you want from me?"
"Since you didn't let me meditate in here last time, I had to do it in my room," Merlin complained. "It's really hot and stuffy in there! And Gaius snored last night!"
The dragon couldn't help but smirk slightly.
"So it took longer for me to find Iseldir this time – they moved camp apparently," Merlin said. Then he got right to the point. "I also noticed something else; what's that odd magic to the southeast?"
Kilgharrah raised his eyebrows.
"It's not normal!" Merlin said. "And it's definitely not there in the future... so what changed?"
"What odd magic?" Kilgharrah interrupted before Merlin could continue his rant.
Merlin crinkled his nose. "You know, the stuff that comes out in thick spirals instead of in web formation. It's almost like a leak, but that doesn't sound right..."
"That would be the magic of Avalon," Kilgharrah said, sounding bored.
"Avalon? What? Really?" Merlin asked, trying to remember the magic's strange pattern. "It doesn't look like that in my world. It's more... calm. It stays where it's supposed to."
The dragon perked up, interested. "What did you do?" he inquired. "Avalon's magic is intensely powerful; keeping it organized would be a task of no small magic."
Merlin snorted in amusement. Why had Kilgharrah assumed that he had done something?
"Nothing," he replied, deciding upon something instantly. "It must have been Freya."
"Freya?"
"A druid girl who was touched by a fairy as a toddler," Merlin explained with a small smile. That made him wonder again... where was she now? He'd thought briefly about looking for her before, but with so many other things to think about, he'd put it in the far reaches of his mind. Not to mention the awkwardness of knowing everything about her, but having her be completely clueless about him. "She was nearly killed, but I brought her to Avalon, and now she's its gatekeeper."
"A gatekeeper to Avalon," the dragon said, a faraway look in his eyes.
"I know," Merlin acknowledged Kilgharrah's amazement with a grin. "I was rather ecstatic when I found out. I thought I'd lost her forever."
Kilgharrah examined the young warlock, who was looking more satisfied with himself than the dragon had ever seen him. "Did you choose this female woman as your mate, Merlin?" he inquired with a touch of longing, remembering his own, dear Moira.
"As my mate..." Merlin finally mumbled, avoiding a direct answer.
The boy had turned a brilliant red.
Kilgharrah took that to be a firm yes. Changing color was one of the stranger abilities humans had. It didn't even camouflage them. Although, he admitted it helped with communication.
"I see," the dragon replied, not really wanting to know the details.
Merlin's cheeks were still pink when he sat cross-legged on the floor.
"I'm going to go now," he said.
"The deer, Merlin," Kilgharrah reminded.
Merlin scowled slightly. "Alright, alright. Promise me you won't play with your food. Poor thing trusts me you know," he said. "I feel kind of guilty."
Kilgharrah snorted. "Even a deer knows the order of things, young warlock," he said mildly.
"I still feel guilty," Merlin said firmly. But still, he reached out with his mind and prodded the deer, who had been obediently wandering the dungeons previously, unimpressed by the lack of greens. Kilgharrah's muscles rippled in anticipation. After living primarily on magic for the last couple decades (and the few stray birds who foolishly wandered in), the dragon was very anxious for a real kill.
"I hope you've hid your scent," Merlin sniffed, "otherwise he won't come down."
Kilgharrah looked offended. "It has not been that long since I've been outside," he said stiffly, sensing as the young stag skipped even closer to his doom.
"Remember what I told you," Merlin said, shaking his finger. "No playing."
"Just leave, Merlin," the dragon drawled, sighing in exasperation.
"Give me a moment," Merlin snapped lightly. Fifteen seconds of concentration later, and Merlin blinked out of the cave.
O o O
Ludmila was hanging out her laundry when the strange young man popped in front of her, scaring her half to death. She was later very embarrassed about it all, but she screamed and threw a wet undergarment in his face.
At the surprise of being suddenly blinded by something wet and heavy, Merlin lost his balance and toppled to forest floor, nearly crushing the amulets in his pocket.
"Jonas! Jonas!" a panicked female voice shouted. "Someone's just teleported inside the wards!"
"Was I not supposed to?" Merlin asked groggily, squinting at what appeared to be... Merlin blinked and quickly held the offending garment farther away from his face.
"Jonas!" the woman called again, backing away from Merlin. He didn't look all that threatening, especially not on his back like that, delicately holding out a pair of women's undergarments at arms' length, but one could never be too careful.
"Are these yours?" Merlin asked, sounding a bit unnerved. He was familiar with doing men's laundry – lots of men's laundry – but a woman's...
Before Ludmila could respond, or at least back up further, her husband came belting through the trees.
"Ludmila? What's going on?" he asked frantically, looking around with wide eyes. His scratchy, green robes swirled around him as he tried to grasp the situation. Several other druids appeared from behind trees and boulders.
Merlin groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Hello," he announced himself, smiling weakly.
Jonas grabbed his wife's shoulders and moved her behind him.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"I don't mean you any harm," Merlin reassured, carefully reaching over to place the wet undergarment into the proper tub along with its counterparts.
"Then what have you come for?" Jonas asked. The other druids around him stared at Merlin for an answer.
"I need to talk with Iseldir," Merlin said.
Jonas hesitated. "My wife says you teleported through the wards," he said, looking at Merlin with a mild sense of disbelief.
Merlin brushed a leaf out of his hair. "True," he said, looking up at them.
Jonas blinked at his straightforward answer. He'd at least been expecting some form of gloating, or at least surprise (it could have been an accident). But no, the skinny young man had sat there with an innocent expression and had proclaimed that, yes, he had just done the impossible.
A sudden commotion from the back of the onlookers kept Jonas blurting out a statement of outright denial.
Jonas and his wife turned around to see their clan leader make his way to the front of the group, a curious expression on his face.
Merlin caught Iseldir's gaze and smiled widely. "Just the person I wanted to see!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet.
"My Lord Emrys," Iseldir said with a slight bow, looking slightly taken aback – an expression that Merlin had very rarely ever seen him wear.
Every head turned to stare a the gawky young man.
"Iseldir," Merlin acknowledged, nodding his head.
"Emyrs, we were not expecting you," Iseldir said lightly.
"No, you wouldn't have," Merlin said.
Iseldir frowned. "I wasn't aware that you knew of us," he said.
Merlin smiled slightly. It had taken him a long time to accustom himself to the druids' apparent stoicism. It had taken him even longer to catch Iseldir off guard, and he'd had to burn down half the forest to do so. But eventually he had learned that behind their riddles, forest-color cloaks, and eerily blank faces, druids were just as human as he was – and, it could be argued, even more human than Merlin was.
So while he might have not picked up on it as a young man, Merlin was twice as old now and considerably more experienced.
Iseldir was nervous.
Merlin's grin widened. "Oh, I didn't hear about you until I came to Camelot," he said honestly. "I mean... I knew about the druids, just not you."
Iseldir gave him a suspicious glance.
Merlin fingered his neckerchief, a habit he'd taken to when he was thinking about something. It was a shame his court uniform didn't include one. "Did you know that you live only about seven miles away from my old home? A little village called Ealdor?" Merlin asked conversationally.
"I have heard of it." Iseldir's face showed no emotion, but Merlin knew very well that the clan leader has always been aware of how close they were living to Merlin's home. There was no way they would have let their prophesied deliverer grow up unprotected.
Merlin glanced at the reverenced people circling around him. Somewhere along their short conversation, over half the camp had showed up, including the other druids who were able to recognize him as Emrys.
"Why are you here?" Iseldir asked, straightforward as usual.
Merlin lifted his head and gave a wry smile. "I'm glad you asked," he said, reaching into his bulging pockets.
O o O
"Arthur's looking for you," Gaius said, without glancing up from his medical book.
Merlin grimaced. He hadn't intended for his visit to last longer than the afternoon, but now it was clear past sunset.
"How upset is he?" Merlin asked, trying to reorient himself. No matter how useful it was, long-distance teleportation would always be one of Merlin's least-favorite spells.
Gaius finally looked up as he cocked an eyebrow.
"The usual, huh?" Merlin interpreted with a sigh. He supposed it could have been worse.
"At least Arthur is familiar with the kitchen now," Gaius said dryly. "I think he even knows his cook's name."
Merlin grinned. "See? There's a bright side to everything."
Gaius snorted.
"How did your meeting go?"
Merlin fell back into a chair. "They were a bit surprised, to say the least," he related. Gaius mumbled something that sounded rather sympathetic. Merlin ignored him. "But I did get five volunteers."
"Any who are willing to stay in Camelot?" Gaius asked.
"Two," Merlin said. "And that's all we need."
Gaius sighed. "When are they coming?" he asked.
"In a week," Merlin answered promptly.
Gaius tried not to blanch. "Merlin, finding accommodations for people within such a short amount of time..."
"I've got it sorted," Merlin reassured him, waving his hand dismissively.
Gaius sighed in relief, glad that he wasn't going to have to involve himself, though a corner of his mind was slightly nervous about what Merlin was planning. Maybe he should ask. A picture of Merlin's emphatic expression whenever he was in 'scheming' mode popped into the old man's head.
"And the other druid camps?" Gaius asked pointedly, deciding he didn't want to know.
"Iseldir keeps in regular contact with two others," Merlin said. "And Baron Reynard already has a network set up with another camp."
Gaius had come to expect the unexpected whenever Merlin was concerned. If Merlin told him that the sky was actually orange and that it had been enchanted blue, Gaius doubted he'd even blink. The fact that one of Uther's favorite noblemen was in direct conflict of the law (to the point where his wife and half his children had magic) hardly phased him at all. 'Merlin-Immunity' Gaius had decided to label his new found stoicism. And it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Too much shock wasn't good for the heart after all.
"Anything else I should be aware of?" Gaius asked.
"They make surprisingly good soup," Merlin said with a grin, patting his full stomach.
"Get the recipe, won't you?"
"Already did."
"Good."
Merlin watched as Gaius crinkled dried herbs into a boiling cup.
"I'm also organizing their midsummer's eve celebration," Merlin announced after a moment.
Gaius paused. "And how do you expect to have time for something like that?" he asked critically.
"I'll make time," Merlin reassured. For once, this was something he was actually excited about. If possible, he was going to find a way to trick Arthur into going, maybe under the guise of 'spying for the kingdom's safety.'
Gaius sniffed, seriously doubting Merlin was going to last another month without getting fired.
As if on cue, the door to his chambers swung open with a bang. "Gaius, has that...?" Arthur trailed off as he caught sight of his truant of a servant.
"MERLIN!"
Merlin sighed and lazily hoisted himself to his feet. "Yes, sire?" he asked innocently.
O o O
Arthur and Merlin were both in a silent agreement to never speak of the "Merlin cried himself to sleep" incident. Ever. So unfortunately, things went right back to normal... or worse. Merlin was still grumpy from spending the night mucking out the stables, even if he had deserved it.
Clang!
Clonk!
Clang!
"OW!"
Arthur backed away from Merlin's downed form. "C'mon, Merlin. Widen your stance. It shouldn't be that easy to knock you off balance," he lectured. "Get up."
"Why should I?" Merlin asked obstinately. He was breathing hard, drops of sweat dripping from his hair.
Stupid warm weather.
Arthur tapped the tip of his sword on Merlin's chest. "It's either this or the stocks," he warned.
Merlin groaned and pushed himself to his feet. He felt like he was about to topple over (in a permanent way).
Merlin used to consider Arthur's old exercise regime relentless; now it was quite clear that Arthur had been going insanely easy on him. Every time Merlin was pummeled, he was forced to grit his teeth and restrain himself from literally exploding. Magic seemed to be pressing against his head – and quite honestly, it hadn't been this bad since his first pummeling lesson since he'd arrived in past Camelot.
Not for the first time, Merlin wished he'd never revealed his decent battle abilities to the young prince.
"Get into position, Merlin," Arthur ordered.
Merlin complied, bending his knees and watching Arthur with a steady gaze. The prince's nose looked a little sunburned, Merlin noticed. What would that make his nose?
Satisfied that his manservant was being serious about this, Arthur attacked.
Merlin lasted ten seconds. Then he tripped.
"What is wrong with you?" Arthur complained, spearing the ground with his sword in his frustration.
"I thought I was doing fairly well," Merlin countered indignantly. He couldn't very well slow time without his eyes giving him away, now could he? Not with Arthur only two feet away and concentrating on him like that. Not to mention he might overdo it and break Arthur's sword. Without magic, he was literally doing the very best he could.
Arthur snorted. "Merlin, if you had fought this way two weeks ago, you would have been killed," he retorted, gesturing for Merlin to get back into fighting stance. "Now shape up!"
"I told you: it was adrenaline and self-preservation," Merlin said, unwilling to get back into any sort of stance until he could convince Arthur of this fact.
"Merlin, you've made it clear that you have absolutely no sense of self-preservation whatsoever," Arthur pointed out. "Remember the cliff? I had to save your sorry backside because you, like the idiot you are, had to lean over it to reach for some herbs."
Merlin opened his mouth to retort – he'd only fallen over that cliff one time – but a familiar presence of magic crept into his senses, and he froze.
"Why Arthur, fancy seeing you here!" a mocking voice came from the landscape above him.
Arthur and Merlin turned to see Morgana. She had dawned her usual fighting gear: chainmail, shield, sword, and all. Gwen was trailing close behind her, dressed to be Morgana's sparring partner. She brightened when she met Merlin's gaze, and quickly scurried over to his side, giving him a winning grin. Merlin barely managed to give her a tired smile back.
"What do you want?" Arthur asked drearily.
"Practice," Morgana said, drawing her sword. "But I don't suppose you'd understand, seeing that you get a whole line of goons willing to fight you every day."
"From what I've seen, you've never had any trouble persuading men to spar with you," Arthur pointed out.
Morgana smirked. "Felt like giving them a break today," she said mercilessly.
Arthur scowled. "Can't you do it somewhere else?" he asked, annoyed.
"No. We want to spar with Merlin," Morgana said firmly.
Both Merlin and Arthur made a face.
"You want to spar with Merlin?" Arthur repeated, sounding incredulous. Merlin was frantically thinking of an escape route. It was bad enough fighting Arthur in these conditions, but if he was paired off against Morgana... he gulped. Towers might start collapsing.
Morgana sniffed indignantly. "You were telling me how surprised you were to figure out that Merlin can actually fight, so we wanted to see for ourselves."
"I'm not that good," Merlin complained.
"That's because you aren't cooperating," Arthur countered.
Merlin scowled. "I'm doing the best I can," he protested, fingers curling around the hilt of his sword.
"A week ago you took out three bandits at a time. I saw you," Arthur said matter-of-factly. "From what I've seen today, you couldn't take out three bunny-rabbits."
"Maybe the heat is getting to me," Merlin threw out resentfully, looking up at the sun.
"You did it in the pouring rain," Arthur parried.
"Heat is different than rain," Merlin argued, folding his arms stubbornly.
"It's an extreme weather condition," Arthur blew off. "It's the same thing."
"Hardly," Merlin snorted.
Morgana and Gwen's eyes moved back and forth between the two boys, their amusement growing with each assertion. Their obstinate conversation was so entirely backward that the girls could hardly believe it. Prince Arthur, the egotistical, self-named "killing machine," was stubbornly insistent that his manservant was one of the most brilliant fighters he'd ever seen (besides himself, of course). Merlin, on the other hand, seemed firmly adamant about the opposite, and he was usually the one that went out of his way to break the barriers between social classes.
For all Gwen knew, this was part of Merlin's plan: use reverse psychology to make Arthur admit that his servant could actually be good at something. The raven-haired boy was certainly sneaky enough to try something like that.
Plus... it was working.
"You're holding back!" Arthur insisted, his face now red from more than just the heat. "I don't know why but you are."
"I'm not either," Merlin said stiffly. He looked a bit like a cornered badger.
"I saw you!" Arthur argued. "There's no way someone with your skill level could be so... so..."
"So what?" Merling demanded.
"So clumsy!" Arthur finally released, gesturing up and down Merlin's lanky frame.
"And yet here I am," Merlin said with an eye-roll. "Alive in spite of it all."
"Ha! So you admit that you do have talent," Arthur noted, narrowing his eyes. Merlin gave him a long-suffering look.
"Only under pressure," the servant sniffed, fingering his neckerchief.
Arthur looked at him disbelievingly. Merlin stared back at him stubbornly. Then Arthur's facial expression changed to one that Kilgharrah usually wore before he was about to roast someone.
"Fine," the prince said, swinging his sword. "You're telling me that you work better under pressure?"
Merlin wasn't sure which response would get him into the least amount of trouble so he ended up saying nothing.
Arthur's smiled evilly. "Well, then. How about we raise the stakes?"
Morgana and Gwen looked at Arthur with curious eyes.
Merlin glared at the prince, wondering if there was a subtle way to turn Arthur's hair green without making it seem like sorcery.
Arthur ignored his death stare and went on jauntily, looking rather pleased with himself, "If you can last thirty seconds against me... Don't give me that look, Merlin; that's only half of what my knights have to do," Arthur scolded. Merlin scowled. "As I was saying, if you can last thirty seconds, I won't ask you to clean out the stables for... two weeks."
"One month," Merlin countered quickly. Gwen smiled knowingly. The stables was Merlin's least-favorite chore.
Arthur looked amused. "Fine. One whole month," he agreed. Merlin's scowl only deepened. Arthur obviously didn't believe his manservant was going to be able to defeat him. Unfortunately, he was probably right.
"But," Arthur said ominously, his smirk looking remarkably similar to Morgana's, "if you don't last, then I'll just have to inform Master Gilroy that you'll be part of the dining hall's clean-up crew."
Gwen winced in sympathy. Merlin's heart sank. If he failed, that meant all of his normal free time was going to be spent on servant duties instead of what he really needed to do: magical rescue program extraordinaire.
"For how long?" he asked, weary.
"Like you said, Merlin," Arthur grinned, "one month."
Merlin sighed. It looked like he was going to have to find some way to cheat. "What if I say no and don't fight?" he asked, not feeling optimistic.
Arthur raised his eyebrows mockingly. "Then it's a forfeit and I win automatically," the prince said smugly.
Merlin swore inwardly, but he had to smile when he caught sight of Gwen's obvious disapproval.
"Can we at least get a drink first?" Merlin asked, very aware of the sun's continual rays burning into his flesh.
Even Arthur looked tempted. The prince licked his parched lips. "Don't be a girl, Merlin," he finally said, trying not to look wistful.
Merlin scowled. "What's girly about not wanting to die of dehydration?" he complained. Plus, he could really use a break, if only to calm his magic down.
Arthur wiped some of the sweat from his forehead. "This is nothing. Besides, as a soldier, you'll have to get used to uncomfortable situations," he recited.
Merlin smiled sadly. "Arthur, I'm not a soldier," he reminded in a quiet voice.
"But there may be a time when you'll have to be, whether you like it or not," Arthur said firmly, ignoring Merlin's soft tones.
Merlin blew out a puff of air. "Prat!" he grumbled, leaning against his sword like a walking stick.
"I swear you're going in the stocks later," Arthur threatened, jabbing his own sword in Merlin's direction.
"Arthur, I think you should both get a drink," Morgana finally interrupted. She half-wanted to force Arthur to cancel the duel, and not be cruel to the poor, sunburned boy (who was obviously suffering), but her curiosity in Merlin's newly discovered skill held her back. The very least she could do was make sure her dear foster brother didn't kill him off with heat stroke.
Arthur relented very quickly.
"Merlin, go fetch some water," he ordered.
Merlin grumbled loudly, but he didn't protest; his tongue was too parched and his head was pounding too much. Gwen almost immediately volunteered to go with him.
"I'll help too," Morgana said, stepping after them.
Gwen turned around and quickly countered with a, "No, no, no, milady. We'll be fine. Really. Just fine."
Merlin cocked his eyebrow and Morgana gave her maid a tiny smirk. Gwen blushed slightly. Arthur was completely oblivious, trying to find a comfortable spot on the grass.
"If you're sure..." Morgana teased.
Gwen bit her lip and nodded curtly. As they turned to leave, Gwen gave her mistress a grateful smile.
Morgana watched her maid hurry to catch up to Merlin's long strides before turning back to her foster brother and remarking, "Gwen really likes Merlin, you know. I hope he'll take notice of it soon enough."
Arthur cracked his neck, then gave Morgana and incredulous look. "How could anyone like Merlin?" he scoffed.
Morgana scowled. "Is it really that hard to imagine?" she asked, defensive in Gwen's place. Gwen was a sweet girl and had a good head on her shoulders. She wouldn't like anyone who wasn't worthy of her feelings.
To her indignation, Arthur began to laugh.
"Good lot you know," he said, continuing to chuckle. "Have you ever actually talked to Merlin?"
"A few times," Morgana defended, although to be perfectly honest, it was only ever in polite and passing conversation.
"The man's a complete nightmare" Arthur said emphatically.
"He is not!" Morgana protested.
"You just said you've only talked a few times," Arthur said smugly. "Believe me, if you had, you'd know what I mean: Loud, obnoxious, a complete know-it-all, always late..."
"Maybe he's only annoying around you," she interrupted stiffly.
Arthur opened his mouth to protest, then he shut it again.
"I wouldn't put it past him," the disgruntled prince finally mumbled.
Morgana smiled wryly.
"Do you know," Arthur began, "that once I found Merlin pouring over a pile of books in the middle of my bedroom floor, surrounded by rags and water buckets?"
Morgana raised her eyebrows.
"When I told him to get back to work, he actually scolded me," Arthur related, disbelief coloring his tone, "and told me that I would have to wait a few minutes because he was 'at a good part,'" he quoted.
"Is that why he ended up in the stocks for an entire day?" Morgana asked curiously, remembering the incident that Gwen had been slightly upset over.
Arthur snorted. "No, that was for skidding into the dining hall at breakfast and dumping the water into Father's lap."
Morgana grinned.
"Father wanted him flogged, but I managed to... Whoa," Arthur blinked as the sun was suddenly blocked by a mass of clouds.
Both he and Morgana tilted their heads to stare up at the sky.
"It was completely clear just five minutes ago!" Arthur protested, sounding incredulous.
"Do you think it's another thunderstorm?" Morgana asked, the hairs on her neck tingling.
"Probably," Arthur grumbled. Now Merlin had an excuse to back out of their duel.
Morgana stared at the boiling clouds with apprehension. It was a new development, but thunderstorms made her feel as though something inside her was trying to claw its way out, like she was going to explode with energy.
The first drop of rain brought a bit of relief to Arthur's parched skin. Then it began to pour down in buckets and he wished miserably that Merlin were there to take off his armor.
