The freckled young princess had a way about putting her small nose in things, he guessed. Or maybe she just liked conversation. Merlin almost had to avoid her to keep away from prying questions and subtle analysis.

He didn't blame her; he was an interloper.

She caught him just after he'd taken on their clothes and eaten from their home for the first time.

Her opaline blue eyes slid up and down, taking him in. "It's alright for you to have loved him. He was your closest companion for most of your adult life now."

"I am not in love with him," said Merlin. He didn't laugh.

She shook her head with raised eyebrows and incredulous, closed eyes, clearly disbelieving and maybe too tired to hear him. What was he to say, "no, it's not so?"

"I did say king. That's not the way of the world,' said Merlin dryly. He heard no tone in his own voice and hid how shocked he was by it.

"I did say it was alright, Merlin," she repeated, interest back on him. "I don't spend much time in palaces, but I have had servants close to my age, and a lot of them vie for my attention.' She tilted her head, one eye beholding him, "You never thought anything to yourself in all the time you were working with him, maybe you wished more for his attention?"

"Attention sure, but it's that I'm a person. I want to be accepted, only natural –"

"—but by him," she declared, animal glow in her eyes and a strange little smirk. She slid forward, huffing a little and yawning, "Well," she said, "accepted you will be. You're already the talk of multiple kingdoms, whether your friend or enemy." She frowned. "Queen Anis, one of Camelot's allies – do you know of her?"

"Yes, I do," said merlin, "I've been in her company not even a summer ago." He'd already opened his mouth to continue, but she cut him off mid-breath again.

"Don't go to her," she blurted. "She knows the news of you being called sorcerer in Camelot, and has formally called you a dangerous traitor, a 'deceiver,' is what she said."

Merlin sucked in a deep breath. "Anything else," he sarcassed, but then, "how do you know this?"

"Public discourse," she nodded simply. Red light flickered across her face and she snuggled back into patchly blankets and pulled them to her shoulders.

"I'm sorry," said Merlin, thinking of all the trouble, and Rual, "I cost you your coronation."

She huffed a chuckle. "That's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry."

"Don't hurt over me; there was nothing to do."

Merlin frowned and rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace. "Your kingdom won't be protected by the spells."

She shrugged. "That's why we keep it a secret until it can be rectified," she said. "Can you agree to do that, Merlin?"

Merlin tightened his lips, still grimacing.

Wordlessly, her eyes embered orange, he felt the loose white garment slip upward to cover his shoulder, and a blanket clung tightly to him and radiated a comfortable sting of pleasant heat. "It is lovely to be in love," she whispered. "I could never fault you for that."

He caught the sound of a spell, but this time didn't flinch.

Her breathy words flitted upward with a lilting cadence. "hléowan tha hwitel. Ġeswīþ þes fæġere."

Merlin's eyes opened slightly, recognizing the meaning of the last word of the spell. Then let them fall closed with sleep.

"…Warm the blanket. Comfort this beauty."