Dear Princess Mithian,

I beg of you to forgive me, as my reply to your letters comes so late. It is my hope that my delay did not cause you undue worry or stress, though I fear that has already happened. You did not offend me, Princess Mithian, as I'm sure you never could.

I apologize and am heartbroken that the delay in my reply caused such a grievous and grievously mistaken inference. I am, as always, gladdened and heartened by receiving your letters, and immensely humbled that you take time out of your busy days to write to me. I know you already to be a woman with a kind heart and selfless character, but the simple fact of your correspondence so far is a simple one that imparts much joy to me. I ardently hope that I have not ruined any possibility of its continuance.

I must assure you: the king is fine, as am I. This latest campaign was longer and more difficult than most, and there were a few scrapes here and there, but we emerged victorious, safe, and happy. I am only sorry that the campaign delayed me in my response to you, as it seems to have caused you some grief. I assure you that we are better than can be expected after such a long patrol, and suffered minimal injury in our troops.

How do you fare so far away, princess? Are there any plans in the making for that grand tournament you spoke of so long ago? Perhaps if I am lucky, there are, and I might have the opportunity to speak with you in person again.

Please update me on your handling of the court. Words has reached Camelot of your successes in Nemeth, and I wish to read in your own writing how you have been setting those odd courtiers and ancient counselors straight.

As for Camelot, Sir Quackenfell is doing surprisingly well. He is, however, developing a penchant for walking up the walls and standing upside-down on the ceiling. I am looking into it.

I met the old woman again at midnight. Enclosed are a few pressed violets, which I have been promised will never lose their color, for which I traded her the wind beneath a bird's wing, the tune to a song I once knew but have since forgotten, and sixteen pieces of straw from Gaius's broomstick.

Please write again soon. I very much look forward to your reply.

Your humble servant,

Merlin

Dear Merlin,

I am both comforted and disappointed by your reply. Did you not think it noteworthy that your delay was due to sustaining a wound dealt to you by Morgana's own hand? Did you not think it worth mentioning that you did not reply because you were languishing in bed, awaiting a cure from your mentor? Why did you not tell me that you threw yourself in front of your king and took his wound for him? Did you think reporting that you are now fine would suffice after learning what had befallen you?

Though your reply confuses and somewhat angers me, I am nonetheless comforted to know that you are well enough to read and write now, and that you are safe back in Camelot under the watchful eyes of your physician and king.

But I cannot escape my disappointment, Merlin, nor my continued concern. You did not mention anything about your current state, and you obfuscated your own grievous injury behind statements of fact regarding the troops on the whole. You told me nothing of your injury, nor your (hopeful) recovery, nor your bravery. Are you really so humble and deferent to me and your king that you would not allow a mention of such courage as you obviously displayed?

You are a friend, Merlin, and I care for your safety, and I care about your successes and failures. If you omit these things out of some desire to keep me from worrying, then you are only doubling your own work. Better to know how you fare truthfully than to hear of your mortal peril in a story you send to me a year from now. And though I of course worry for the safety of Camelot's men, I know you and your king better than most in the ranks, and will of course worry doubly for your safety.

I am glad you are safe and recovering. In fact, my heart rejoices at the news, and I am glad you have shared it with me. Take it as yet another example of the benefits of honesty, that I am so immensely relieved and grateful of your safety, even if you had to share with me the danger you faced preceding it.

You are a hero of your realm for having saved your king, and a man of unmatched bravery and nobility to have saved your friend. But you are also foolish for thinking I would not find out about what you did, and either unbelievably foolish or otherwise stupidly humble for thinking I would not first worry over you and then commend you.

Take care. Be well again soon, and listen to Gaius when he tells you what to do. I hear physicians make for the worst patients, and something tells me that is truer of you than most.

I eagerly await your reply, my dear friend.

Most Sincerely,

Mithian

Dearest Guinevere,

Come see me?

Love,

Merlin

Dearest Merlin,

I'm afraid I'm busy. If you can wait, please do. In the meantime, please do not abuse poor George. His desire to do well by both Gaius and the king should not be manipulated by you out of boredom. He is a servant, not a messenger.

Love,

Gwen

Gwen,

I take offense at any assertion. As George has told myself, the king, you, and everyone else in Camelot: he is happy to help.

Did you send word to the Nemeth contingent that I was injured?

Love,

Merlin

Merlin,

It seems I sent word to Princess Mithian herself that you were injured, as she inquired after you and the delay in your response to her most recent letter.

Would you like to talk about it?

Love,

Gwen

Idiot -

Stop distracting George. You're making him as useless as you on your best day.

-K.A.

Prat,

Just ask him: he's happy to help.

Tired of brass jokes yet?

Love,

M

Gwen,

I don't see why my injury needed to be shared with my friends in Nemeth.

Love,

M

Merlin,

Don't pout. I'll be down in an hour for our servants' dinner. Don't eat everything before I get there, and for the sake of the gods and Gaius's sanity, stay in bed until I arrive.

Then we can eat and talk about exactly how fond certain people in Nemeth are of you. From what I hear, there seems to be considerable sentiment there.

Love,

Gwen

Idiot -

George makes for a better servant than you could ever hope to be.

Now stop writing messages and co-opting my manservant. I hope you know, there are now two more chores added to your list for your return.

-K.A.

Dear Mithian,

You have my most heartfelt and sincere apologies. You are correct that I owe you the truth, and it does nothing to ease your worry to obfuscate events behind pleasantries and misadventurous ducks. I, too, value our friendship, and it pains me to know I may have damaged it.

I will not make such errors in the future if something like this were to happen again. Please be assured, my princess, that I typically do whatever is in my power to avoid such circumstances, and that is not changing any time soon.

I believe I know where you got your story from. Nonetheless, I will pass along a story. Though I know your favorites are none where I nor my friends face true mortal peril (no matter how distant nor exciting), I apologize in advance for the content herein, for I know you will not likely re-read it as you have with some of my others. But you have requested it, and if I am as wise as I am sometimes purported to be, I will not dream of denying you.

Here is what happened: Arthur and I were making our way to the borders of Essetir, near the shared border of Gawant, chasing down rumors of men in black armor headed toward the south. We arrived at a river flowing near the shared land in the Forests of Ascetir, and spotted men across the river.

Arrows were exchanged, but nothing much of note happened before both parties arrived at a bridge. We waited at the end of the bridge, exchanging arrows and not much more, for a day before the enemy advanced.

But there were obviously too many of them. I suspect they had spent the day trying to learn our numbers, which were betrayed by the number of torches at night and the frequency and number of the arrows we sent over the canyon toward them.

We fought valiantly, however. As you must know from my past stories, the Knights of the Round Table themselves could likely take on three foes to a man, with our king taking on many more. (Note: between you and me, Princess Mithian, our king is a fearsome warrior. But I dare not say as such in front of him, for fear his crown would no longer fit over his big head).

We took down many of their number, and victory was well in sight before Morgana appeared in a whirlwind. She stalked toward Arthur, sword held aloft.

But she looked tired, Princess Mithian. Not entirely well. It seemed to me, having known the previous Morgana, that she was recovering from something or another. It took all her strength to hold her sword in the air, despite being an accomplished swordswoman.

King Arthur was tired. The battle had already been long and difficult, and more than one of our knights lay on the ground, too injured to fight. Arthur himself had been injured by a stray arrow the night before, which had grazed his shoulder as he slept.

Since I was nearby, I did the thing I could think of: I put myself between them and threw a knife.

Not very creative nor powerful, I am aware, but I am a good shot with a dagger to begin with, and by this time I found myself however woefully without a larger blade.

The dagger left my hand the moment Morgana swung down. My own blade must have distracted her, or perhaps the men of Camelot. But I understand that she disappeared in another wind, and I collapsed, having taken the cursed blade to my side.

Upon returning to Camelot, Gaius was able to source a cure through the work of some Druids, here to flesh out the peace treaty with Arthur. They helped provide the care that got me back on my feet, so to speak (though Gaius insists I use crutches for the time being). I am forever grateful, for it was their care that allows me to write to you now.

I promise that I am not giving Gaius too much trouble. I am simply keeping him on his toes in his old age. It is a service to the wider public of Camelot to ensure we have a patient and spry physician. And, after all, I need something to keep me occupied while I finish out my sentence in my chambers.

Are you well? Your last letter, while a sorely needed reprimand, told me nothing of you and your life in Nemeth. I sincerely wish to know how you fare so far away.

Your humble servant and devoted friend,

Merlin