I Can Fly!
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin. BBC does.
"I can track down a hawk on a cloudy day, how is it that I cannot find my own son?"
"Maybe you're lacking the right motivation. I mean, you're not going to shoot down Amhar?"
Arthur opted for a moment to murder Merlin, and then said, "You're the all powerful wizard! Chant something!"
It was then they heard a giggle.
Arthur's ear led him to the next room. The two men then ran in and soon found themselves in mounds of fabric and thread, for it was the seamstress room.
Furniture was tossed and fabric rolls were pushed away until Arthur noticed his son's face, smiling.
"Amhar!" Arthur saw his tiny son up on a self ten feet above him.
Amhar jubilantly waved to his father, "Hi Daddy!"
"How'd he get up there?" Merlin questioned.
"Get him down!"
"Alright. Amhar, want to fly?"
"Yes!"
"Stand still." Merlin whispered and his eyes flashed gold and the young prince was lifted by gold dust and he cried in exhilaration of flying.
He landed safely in his father's arms.
"Let's play another game. Shall we?"
"But he's really getting the hang of Hide-and-Go-Seek. Aren't we Amhar?"
Amhar laughed along with Merlin and begged his father to count again.
"How about a new game?" Arthur countered, "It's called 'How Fast Can Merlin Run'?"