Archive of Our Own

Alright, now that we're all here, it's time to start. You know how this story begins right? All the good ones start like this, here we go. 

Once upon a time there was a Knight. And we all know what knights are like, they're brave and strong and determined to be just and protect everyone. This knight was just like that, of course! But a fair knight isn't always a smart knight and between you and me… this one was a bit of a prat. 

"Oh, oof," Arthur lets out, taking a step back as a small body hits his leg. His hand reaches down to cup the dark curly haired head, and smiles when said head lifts to reveal big blue eyes, dark skin that almost matches Gwen's, and a cute little nose that is just like hers.

"You’re late!" Mordred says, with the sort of demanding imposition inherent to all five year olds. "We have to go now!"

"Good afternoon to you too, Mordred," Arthur says, patting his head, hand dancing away as his nephew tries to get a hold of it. Leaving his nephew distracted with that game, he finally looks up to the open door in front of him, where his sister and her wife are crowded. "And hello to the two of you."

"You are late," Morgana says, head tilted to the side as she puts on a long silver earring.

"Thank you for coming, Arthur," Gwen says with a smile. She's the only one who would have the right to complain about Arthur's timing, as she seems to be the one actually ready to leave. She's holding Morgana's black jacket along with her own, and waiting for her chance to leave her home.

"I didn't have plans for today," Arthur says, and bends down to pick up Mordred, who lifts his arms. He throws the shrinking child in the air, and Mordred collapses into giggles in his arms, as Arthur hoists him up with a hip. "You're getting heavy," he notes with admonishment to Mordred. "Babies aren't supposed to weigh this much."

"I'm not a baby, Uncle Arthur!" Mordred says, hitting his chest with a light, baby hand.

"Right, you're a big burly man," Arthur nods sagely, and turns to the boy's mothers. "The library will take, what, one hour? What time do I bring him back?"

"Good luck getting him out of there," Morgana snorts, taking her coat from Gwen. "But do give us a while. We'll call on our way home."

"Alright, see you soon." Arthur says with a nod, crouching slowly to grab the small colorful backpack Mordred left on the ground without dropping his nephew on the way. "Have fun with your date."

"Bye mummies!" Mordred says, for a moment too loose on Arthur's arm as he waves at the other two. Then he looks at Arthur again. "Let's go, we have to see Emrys before it's too late!"

Arthur leaves to the sound of Morgana and Gwen saying their goodbyes to them and then bicker about the time. For a moment he considers using the stairs to reach the ground floor, but Mordred starts squirming in his arms to be put down and runs to the lift. "There's no time!"

"Alright, alright," Arthur calls the lift, the small backpack thrown over one shoulder, and they still get to turn and wave at Mordred's mums at the bend of the hallway before they get in the lift and leave the building.

"I’ve never gone to this library before," Arthur tells Mordred, holding his hand as they walk down the street. He did check where it was on Google Maps, but Morgana assured him it was easy to reach on foot from their flat. "You're going to be our guide and take us there. Can you do that?"

"Yes!" Mordred says, and his tone becomes just as authoritative as his mother's. "This way!" he points, his little legs speeding up.

Arthur lets himself be pulled down as he's led down the street, the path easy, lining a park that shades their way with trees. Mordred has a very determined look on his face, concentrating on the way and on going as fast as they can. He really wants to get there on time, it seems.

"So, who's Emrys?"

"You don't know Emrys?" Mrdred looks up at him with wide, shocked eyes. “He's the best wizard there is!"

"A wizard, is he?" Arthur says, raising his eyebrows. "What's a wizard doing at a library?"

"He's teaching magic, Uncle Arthur," Mordred says, as if it should be obvious.

"Ah, I see," Arthur nods along very seriously, holding back a smile. "I didn't have a wizard at my library when I was little."

"I'm not litt-"

"Yes, when I was a big boy like you," Arthur corrects himself. "What magic does this wizard teach?"

"The strongest magic there is!" Mordred says with excitement, jumping as he walks. "He has a dragon and a hat and a magic wand and a spell book and he makes things appear out of thin air!"

"That's very powerful magic indeed," Arthur says, tugging on Mordred's hand to turn the corner so they don't miss their turn. "Does he have a beard?"

Mordred makes a face. "No..."

"I thought all powerful wizards had beards. He can't be that good, then."

"He is!" Mordred is very quick to defend this librarian. "He doesn't need a beard! He says I'm going to be a wizard and I don't want a beard!"

"I think you'd look very fetching with a beard," Arthur tells him. "And magic power is stored in the beard, you know. It's why wizard beards are so big," he says, a joke this kid won't get. "It's full of secrets."

"That's not true!" Mordred says, his voice louder and Arthur realises he's getting a bit worked up.

"Well, you know best," Arthur says, squeezing his hand. "I never had lessons with a wizard."

"You can join us!" Mordred says. "Emrys says- Emrys !" he yells.

Before Arthur can blink, Mordred's hand slips out of his own and the boy starts running towards the visible library building.

"Mordred! Wait, come here!" Arthur runs after him, looking around and thanking everything holy that Morgana and Gwen picked such a quiet neighborhood to live in, where on a Saturday afternoon there aren’t many cars around. He catches Mordred's hand when he stops across the street. "Mordred, you can't just run off like that!"

"But it's Emrys!" he tugs on Arthur's hand, at least not letting go this time as he runs across the long sidewalk, towards a man who is walking towards the library at a fast pace. "Emrys!" Mordred yells again.

"No yelling," Arthur says, trying to recall if Mordred was this unruly the last time he got to take care of him on his own. That might have been a year ago, and four year olds are easier to get a hold of, he supposes.

The man Mordred was running towards, stops and turns to them, tilting his head. "Mordred, hi!" Amused, blue eyes look up from Mordred to Arthur. "And hello to you too."

If this is Emrys, then it's a good thing he doesn't have a long beard. Arthur had been picturing an old man in the image of a wizard, as Mordred spoke about Emrys, but he's pleasantly surprised to be faced with a man his own age, with striking cheekbones, and some full lips that would be lost in a wizard's beard. He's tall and lean, with some strong shoulders, and ears that peek out from the sides, barely hidden by his dark hair. He hadn't gotten as far as to picture the man in wizard robes, but he certainly wasn't expecting some dark closely fitted slacks and a colorfully patterned shirt open at the collar to reveal some neck, and a hint of a pale collarbone, and Arthur... Arthur is glad he's not an old wizard like Gandalf or something like that.

"Hi," Arthur lets out, his eyes not knowing exactly where to land, where it would be polite and not creepy. Is it alright if he looks him in the eye? Arthur's been single for too long, it seems. "You're Emrys?"

"That's my name!" Emrys says with a crooked grin, before he leans in to stage whisper. "It's not. I was first introduced as Mr. Emmerson and some kids just don't get it right. Even when I tell them to call me Merlin, isn’t that right, Mordred?"

"That's not your name, Emrys!" Mordred says, not letting go of Arthur's hand as he moves forward to bump his chin on the librarian’s slender leg. "You're Emrys!"

"Fated to not be acknowledged by my very own name," Emmerson sighs dramatically. "Will you join Mordred in this act of disrespect?"

"If you tell me your actual name," Arthur replies. "Or will Mr. Emmerson do?"

"Please, Merlin is fine," he says with a grin.

"I’m not calling you by your wizard name," Arthur replies before he can filter himself.

The other laughs, a wide toothy smile that shouldn't be this charming. "My wizard name indeed! I'm really Merlin."

"Sure," Arthur says, not buying it. The man is clearly trying to get a whole magic thing going on with the kids, but if he thinks that means Arhtur will call him by some fantasy name then he's very much mistaken.

"Emrys, it’s time!" Mordred tugs on Emmerson's trousers. "We can't be late!"

"Ah, of course," Emmerson says, looking up at Arthur again with a wink, "my magic lesson is about to begin. Can't leave my students waiting, now can I?"

Arthur gestures for him to lead the way, but Mordred doesn't seem willing to let go of either of them, so they walk side by side, Mordred between the two of them, holding Arthur's hand and Emmerson's trousers.

"Are you one of Mordred's uncles?" Emmerson asks as they go in.

"Yes, from Morgana's side."

“Hi Freya!” Emmerson waves at a woman in the reception who waves back. Arthur slowly does the same after a moment and then regrets it immediately. 

"I figured you weren't Elyan," Emmerson continues. "Morgana and Gwen couldn't make it today?"

"Morgana says they were desperate for a date, so here I am."

"And you?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Arthur replies, not getting the look Emmerson sends him with the question. "It's no trouble spending time with my nephew."

Emmerson smiles, a gentle thing. "He's a good kid."

"I'm not a kid!" Mordred chimes in between them.

"Of course not," Arthur agrees straight away.

"But my wizard classes are for kids," Emerson says, with a small frown, "what will we do now?"

"You can teach me anyway!" Mordred says, "I'm good!"

"Hmm, we'll see," Emmerson says. He glances at Arthur quickly. "Will you join our lesson too?"

"As I’m not a kid..." Arthur trails off. 

“Oh, you’re not?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow at him. “Something wrong with your eyes?”

“Hmm,” Emmerson glances down, and then back at Arthur’s eyes. “Suppose you’re a bit...big.”

Arthur feels himself flush, and tries to hide it with a frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Something wrong with your ears?” Emmerson asks in return, his smile turning a bit cheeky.

“I don’t think you can address people like that at work.”

“I can if they’re being a prat,” Emmerson replies. “And clearly in need of some manners. I’ll make an exception for the two of you today, see if the lesson is of any help to you.”

Emmerson leads them through a few corridors in the library, passing large bookshelves that reach the ceiling until they reach a wide room clearly set up for kids. The shelves are shorter for easier reach in one of the walls, but regular-sized corridors of shelves go on towards the side. The floor is made of that soft plastic that kids can sit and fall into, shaped into big puzzle pieces in primary colors. There are large stickers on the walls of ladybugs and birds, and in a corner there’s one with a big dragon.

That corner seems to be where the lesson will be taught, with several bean bags and pillows on the floor where children already sit, some next to their parents, while others have their guardians somewhere else in the room. Emmerson goes straight towards it, putting his bag down carefully by the biggest bean bag. "Alright, everyone! Welcome to our magic lesson of the week! How are my apprentices doing today?"

A chorus of kids replies, seemingly all mispronouncing Emmerson's name somehow.  He apparently accepts it easily, as he doesn't correct anyone as he sits down.

Mordred finally lets go of Arthur's hand to rush to the front and remain close to Emmerson, but then he stops, and looks at his uncle with indecision. Arthur goes ahead to sit on the floor where Mordred is, so his nephew can happily crawl into his lap, elbow digging into Arthur's stomach as he gets settled down. He frowns, containing a wince, and shifts them slightly so Mordred's curls aren't in his face, and his hand isn't pressing so hard on Arthur's thigh. What Arthur bears for his nephew. With the two of them more or less comfortable (one more than the other), Arthur turns his attention back to the lesson.

"I've been thinking of what to teach you this week," Emmerson says, pulling a book out of his bag and placing it in his lap. "It's going to be some strong magic, of course. And what's the strongest magic there is?"

"Stories!" the children reply back all at once, in a familiar script to them.

"That's right!" Emmerson says with a nod. "And why are stories such good magic?"

A bunch of kids speak at once, but not in unison enough this time for it to be completely understood.

"Yes!" Emmerson agrees with whatever was said. "Stories do the best kind of magic! They make anything we want to be possible, and things exist when they hadn't before. With words and pictures we can create worlds and make us feel all sorts of things without even having to leave this room. What magical story did I say I was going to bring this week, does anyone remember?"

"Dragons!" Mordred says loudly, almost getting up on Arthur's lap, a foot pressing on his crotch.

"Mordred," Arthur lets out in a low tone, getting him to shift. "Sit down, come on."

Mordred lets himself be pulled back down, eyes intent on Emmerson's.

"It's not dragons this time," Emmerson says. "Was it about... a monster?"

"The breakfast monster!" another kid calls out.

"Yes!" Emmerson lifts the book to show them the large cover, with a fussy pink creature. "The Monster that Eats Your Breakfast!"

Mordred sinks down, his back pressing against Arthur's chest, disappointed, but he remains still and attentive and Emerson starts reading the story to them. The librarian takes his time to create different voices for the characters in the book, keeping his own for the narrator, a deep, throaty and scratchy voice for the monster He clearly adds on to the book in question, because no children's book would go into so many tangents, nor take over half an hour to read. 

He's good at it, Arthur can admit it. He always feels awkward when Mordred asks him to read stories for him, bringing books he knows by heart: Arthur doesn't know how to live up to his expectations of a quality reading. He feels like he’s making a spectacle when he tries giving voice to the narration, and the less that is said about his proficiency in voicing characters the better. One time Mordred gave him a book that had verses Arthur didn't know were supposed to be sung and he never felt like he failed Mordred as much as when he read them again with a made up melody he couldn't figure out.

Emmerson doesn't seem to have any of his issues. He jumps out of his bean bag with quite the agility when a dramatic moment comes up in the story, and somehow the children in the audience become characters in the book. They have to figure out why a monster is stealing their breakfast in the first place, only to be lead to the conclusion that breakfast is like a magic potion makes them stronger and faster. The kids all work as a team trying to come up with a plan to stop the monster from stealing their breakfast. Emmerson lets himself fall to the floor as the defeated monster, pretend crying over losing his delicious oatmeal, and somehow that leads to kids offering to share their breakfasts with him.

"You can have half of mine!" Mordred says, to Arthur's pride. "There's food for everyone if you say please!"

Arthur can't stop himself from grinning, and his eyes meet Emmerson's for a moment, who seems to share his own fond amusement. Arthur's heart picks up for some ridiculous notion, and he looks down at his nephew again, patting his hair.

As the monster thanks them all for promising to share their food, and as he repents for having stolen in the first place, the story comes to an end. The kids seem excited, the few parents in the room clap politely, and Arthur joins in after a moment, feeling out of place. He can't quite look at Emmerson as he claps, unsure if clapping is even something he should be doing, and he's one of the first to stop.

"First magic lesson of the day complete!" Emmerson announces, sitting down on his bean bag again. "What's the second lesson?"

"Picture time!"

"Exactly!" Emmerson says, "Words make worlds and creatures appear, but they're invisible! The second part of our spell is to make the magic story visible to everyone. And for that, we need our magical instruments, don't we?"

He dives back into his bag, children getting up and clamouring around him as Emmerson picks out individual sheets of paper, pens and pencils of all colors and lets the children pick and choose at them until they sit down once more. Mordred comes back to Arthur's lap with three colored pencils and some paper, already a bit crunched up in his small fist as he settles back down. 

Emmerson goes around giving out some wood surfaces as a replacement for desks, since the floor is too soft for them to draw on. He moves around the children, careful not to step anyone as he speaks. "For the spell to work you need to create something from the magical story. Maybe the breakfast, or the monster, or the feather trap we used to capture it! You have fifteen minutes to do this, a good spell needs precision and time."

The kids get to work mostly in silence. Mordred mumbles a little about his choices, and makes Arthur hold on to his pencils as he draws on the paper. Arthur looks over his head at the picture being formed, trying to understand what his nephew is portraying. "What are you drawing?" he asks in a low tone so they don't disturb anyone else.

"This is the monster," Modred says, touching a round scribble made of yellow with his pencil. Arthur had thought that was the sun. "That's me with the breakfast," he says, pointing to a figure he had awkwardly drawn from the feet up. "And this is you," he says, pointing to the other one. "You have breakfast too, and we're going to share it with the monster."

Arthur looks down at the drawing, unable to stop a smile. He's never figured why people would hang up kids' weird and pretty abstract drawings, but he has the urgent need to keep this one for himself and put it up somewhere.

Mordred doesn't even give him time to admire it, climbing out of Arthur's lap to run to Emmerson and show him what he's done. All the kids gather up around him again to be showered in praise for their hard work.

"Great job everyone!" Emmerson says to them all with a wide smile, "that's some great visual magic. What's part three of our spell?"

"Change!" someone answers right away.

"Transformation!" Emmerson adds on. "There's no great magic spell complete without some transformation. What does that mean?"

"It's when things change," a little girl says, words a little slurred from the two fingers she keeps in her mouth.

"It's when we change them," Emmerson says. "We have the power to make things different, you all do! That's why you're wizard apprentices! So now we brought a story to life by telling it, we gave it form by drawing it, now we need to transform it. I need everyone to sit down, close their eyes and think really really hard about how you could change the story we told. When someone has an idea, raise your hand and I'll call you one by one to share it, alright?"

"Yes, Mr Emrys!"

With that the children sit down. Mordred bumps into Arthur's side, his small hand on Arthur's lap to hoist himself up so he can press his mouth against his ear. "Will you help me, Uncle Arthur?"

Arthur nods, leaning down so they're more face to face. "What do you want to change?"

Mordred makes a face. "I don't like oatmeal. The monster likes pancakes now, and we have to make pancakes to share them."

"Really?" Arthur grins, "And are pancakes magic potions too?"

Mordred nods very seriously. "We're trainforming," he says the word slowly and incorrectly, "the magic goes to the pancakes now."

"Ah, I see. Do you want to share it with Emmerson?"

Mordred nods again, and turns to the librarian, hand raised in the air.

After Mordred more kids join in with different ideas: some make it dinner instead of breakfast ("So I don't have to eat soup!" a boy says, next to a defeated looking parent), some change the nature of the monster, and some change the scenario itself. Emmerson takes every concept seriously. After everyone had their turn he claps, and pulls out a big wizard hat from behind the bean bag, plating it on his head. It's clearly a little too big for him, only holding up in his head thanks to his ears, but Emmerson doesn't look bothered by it. "Alright, now we have all our elements to the spell! Time to complete it. What are the magic words?"

The kids chorus, as Emmerson waves his hands like an orchestra conductor, a wood stick in his hand. "Alakazam! Woo-Woo-BAM!"

"The spell is cast!" Emmerson says dramatically, smiling wide at the kids. "Can you feel it?" He waits for another chorus of agreement, and then continues. "And with that, our lesson is over! Next week..." he looks in Arthur's direction, but his eyes land on Mordred. "Dragons!"

Mordred shakes with excitement, twisting out of Arthur's lap as Emmerson says his goodbyes. Arthur keeps an eye on Mordred as he moves between retreating kids to reach the librarian, bouncing on his feet as he waits for Emmerson's attention. Arthur gets up slowly and joins them, laying a hand on top of Mordred's head to calm him down. It doesn't quite work.

"Dragons?" he asks, voice a little high pitched.

"Dragons! I told you it was soon, didn't I? And a wizard never goes back on his word." Emmerson looks up at Arthur. "Mordred found out I love dragons too. And it's not just that I love them." His voice goes back to the stage whisper, aiming at Mordred. "I have a dragon!"

Mordred's big eyes go wide with wonder. "You do?"

"I sure do!" Emmerson says, "But dragons like to live in caves, see, so I don't have it with me right now."

"We can visit it!" Mordred suggests right away. "Let's visit it!"

"Ah," Emmerson looks at Arthur for a way out of this one. He's not getting any help, Arthur wants to know how he'll explain this one. "Maybe some other time, yes? Dragons like to know ahead of time when they have visitors."

"Hmm, alright," Mordred says, in a tone very similar to Morgana's when she doesn't believe in something. "Can we go play, then?"

"I'm sure Mr. Emmerson has work to do, we shouldn't bother him," Arthur finally intervenes.

"But we always play with Emrys!"

"Really, you should call me Merlin," Emmerson tells him. "And Morgana and Gwen do normally leave him here with me for a while, I have nothing to do."

"Really? No books to stack?" Arthur asks, raising an eyebrow.

"You-oh," a slow grin emerges on Emmerson's face. "I'm not a librarian, I don't work here."

"Oh," Arthur says, feeling wrong-footed. "But you...do this weekly?"

"Yeah, for a while now," Emmerson the not-librarian, says. "Around a year or something like that. My friend works here, and she got me this gig. I make children's books."

"Oh, I see," Arthur says, giving him a once over. "Would I know any?"

"You strike right at a man's heart, don't you?" Emmerson says with an awkward laugh crossing his arms. Before Arthur can clarify he didn't mean to say he was an unknown, Emmerson continues. "I've published one so far, I doubt you know it. The Wishing Lake?"

He tries to think back on the books he has read to Mordred, and can't recall it. "I don't exactly browse children's literature."

"Oh, is it above your reading level?" he asks, seemingly innocently.

“I’m surprised it’s not above yours.”

“You just saw me read to a group of children,” Emmerson reminds him. 

“If you call that reading, ” Arthur replies.

“There was a book, it was a story.”

“It was more of a dramatic retelling.” Arthur says dismissively.

“Is that meant to be a compliment or an insult?”

"Emrys," Mordred reminds them he's there, raising his arms. "Show me more magic books."

Arthur seems to have long missed his chance to correct himself, and follows them into the bookshelves. He ends up holding up Mordred so he can take his time looking between the spines of books in the upper shelves, as Emmerson stands very close by giving suggestions. Then they move back to the now empty corner with the beanbags, to read, and sometimes for Mordred to draw. Emmerson sits right next to him, their knees bumping occasionally, and Arthur has a hard time focusing on any of the stories told, eyes constantly drifting to the man sitting beside him, and sometimes finding Emmerson looking right back at him.

"What's your book about?" Arthur asks him at some point, as Mordred presses a pen down hard on a new drawing.

"Magic," Emmerson says, raising his eyebrows. "And what one does with it." He pauses for a moment and then adds. "Well. It was released last year, and it did alright."

"That's good," Arthur says.

"Yeah," Emmerson looks down. "I got a deal for a new book."

"That's also good, in case you have missed that," Arthur says slowly. Emmerson hadn't sounded particularly excited.

"Yes, of course! It's just- well, ideas don't appear out of thin air."

"Like magic?" Arthur asks, mouth pulling into a side smile.

"That's why I'm here!” Emmerson gestures to the room. “Getting inspired from the kids, see if I can come up with something before the deadline."

Arthur nods, glancing down at Mordred, who's mumbling to himself as he draws. "Is it working?"

"We'll see," Emmerson says. "How about you?"

"I'm a data analyst," Arthur says, "it's good work."

"Alright," Emmerson says, clearly not very convinced.

"The work we do is good," Arthur elaborates. "I'm on a project with the EU to measure the efficiency and cost of clean energy. The benefits are not as clear cut as one would think. Electric cars don't use gas, but the batteries are short lived, produce a lot of pollution in factories and make up toxic waste when thrown away, for example. Is the production pollution and waste created better or worse than using gas?"

"Hmm," Emmerson squints his eyes a bit, thinking. "Is it?"

"We're figuring that out."

"Fair," Emmerson says. "Do you like it?" and to Arthur's nod he continues. "I couldn't work with numbers and excel sheets all day."

"I couldn't do..." Arthur waves a hand, "whatever it is you do here. You're good with stories. And with kids."

Emmerson smiles, a slow bloom growing on his face. "The kids are good."

“Although your methods are questionable, of course.”

“Of course?” Emmerson asks, raising his eyebrows. “You just said I was good at this.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be questioned. You did promote the idea of rewarding people who try to rob you.”

“Ah, I see,” Emmerson nods slowly in mock seriousness, betrayed by the smirk curling on his face. “I hadn't realized.”

“What?” Arthur asks, with some suspicion, but smiling as well.

“That you were a dollophead.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“A dollophead,” Emmerson repeats. 

“That’s a ridiculous word.”

Emmerson raises his eyebrows, head tilted closer. “Would you rather I called you something else?”

“How about not a made up name?” Arthur shoots back, his heartbeat picking up slightly.

They’re interrupted by Mordred complaining he's hungry. Emmerson walks out of the library with them, his big bag hoisted over one shoulder, Mordred running around them, his own hands free as Arthur carries his backpack.

"You were filling in for Morgana and Gwen, right?" Emmerson asks, coming to a stop on the sidewalk.

Arthur stops beside him. "Yes, they were busy this weekend."

Emmerson just looks at him for a moment, and then nods. Arthur feels like he has missed something.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr Emmerson," Arthur tries, holding out his hand.

Emmerson shakes it, looking back at him. "You too,” he says, with another pause afterwards.

Arthur pulls his hand back, feet unsure of whether to stay or move away. "Good luck with your book." he says, a bit awkwardly, stepping back at last. With that said he goes grab Mordred's hand, and leaves with the promise of pancakes at him.

Arthur only glances back over his shoulder towards the library once, to see Emmerson still standing in the same spot, with his back turned. Then Mordred tugs on his hand, and Arthur lets himself be led away. He doesn't know what he was thinking of doing anyway.

The knight wasn't very smart, but he was very brave. You see one day in his travels he heard of a dragon roaming over a forest. Apparently this dragon had made its home in a field next to said forest, its wide tail covering a road used by many cities for travel. Villagers cried out for help, and the knight, not smart, a prat, and very very brave, went on his way to set things right. He travelled for days on his trusted horse, only to arrive at the blocked pathway and see no dragon! Dragons are gigantic creatures you see, with wings as wide as trees are tall, so it would be hard to miss it, if it were blocking a road. Did the dragon run away, knowing the knight was on his way?

It's not that Arthur thinks of Emmerson during the week. He has plenty to think about, plenty to do with his days, from making meals to staring at complicated spreadsheets, to playing some FIFA with Leon when they have the free time to meet up. Arthur has a busy life, so it's not because he’s wasting time thinking about Emmerson that he calls his sister on Friday evening to volunteer to take Mordred to the library again the following day.

"I didn't know you were a fan of books," Morgana says instead of thanking him for using his limited free time to give her some time alone with her wife.

"I didn't think you'd miss the chance to have the house to yourselves." Arthur replies.

"How dare you. I love spending time with my beloved son."

"Right, even among another ten kids in a closed space?"

"I just find this very suspicious," Morgana says, elder sister's senses in action. "You're up to something. Did you meet Freya?"

"Who?"

"Ah, so not her," Morgana is audibly smirking now. "I see how it is. You want to use my kid to flirt with-"

"I just want to spend some time with my nephew! If you'd rather go there instead-"

"No, no, I'll allow this," Morgana says, being the worst sister there is. "You're welcome."

" You're welcome."

"Of course. Do wear the red polo, dear, you'll thank me for it."

"I'll be there at the same time last week."

"Don't be late this time."

Arthur hangs up without saying goodbye, regretting the decision to call his sister. He should have gone for Gwen, who wouldn't torment him over nothing.

The next day he's at his sister's flat on time, not wearing the red polo, and manages to arrive at the library before Emmerson. Mordred keeps looking around every time someone new shows up, but it's always another parent with their kid, and not the man of the hour. All the people from the previous week that Arthur recognises are already there when Emmerson finally stumbles into the room, holding his large bag close against his chest.

"Sorry, sorry! But you know what they say - a wizard is never late! He arrives precisely when he means to!"

Arthur shakes his head slightly, unimpressed both with the quote and with the open shirt the man is wearing today: black with bright yellow pineapples, over a white tank top, which is tucked into blue jeans. It's very much not a wizard look, it's slightly ridiculous, and yet Arthur can find no complaints.

The story they tell today is about a dragon who is scared of the dark, and uses his fire to keep a light on. The dragon ends up burning a forest, and the story develops into the moral of personal safety versus responsibility and the care we must have of others as well as ourselves. Mordred is delighted, of course, and keeps rushing to join in whenever he can, giving ideas for putting out the fire, and how the dragon could avoid the dark safely. He draws a big dragon by what looks like a fireplace, and then the kids get to change part of the story. Through it all, Emmerson keeps glancing at Arthur, probably surprised to see him again.

Arthur doesn't know how he'll explain this one.

At last the kids and their parents start leaving, and Emmerson motions for the two of them to come closer. Mordred runs and crashes into Emmerson's legs, staying there as Arthur walks up to them.

Emmerson looks behind them, waiting for something, and then puts a finger against his lips, motioning for silence. "I have something to show you, Mordred," he whispers loudly. "But it's a secret! You can't tell anyone, alright?"

Mordred leans in, nodding vigorously. "I promise! What is it?"

Emmerson reaches into his bag, pulling out a wrapped red scarf... "You said you wanted to meet my dragon."

"YOU HAVE YOUR DRAGON HERE?"

"Mordred, not so loud," Arthur says, crouching down next to him to see the wrapped scarf as well, curious despite himself. He had figured Emmerson would drop the subject and hope Mordred wouldn't remember it, instead of whatever he's about to do now.

"It's a secret, remember?" Emmerson says. "No one can know." He starts unwrapping the scarf. "Dragons are very big, see, so we had to use a little magic to give it a disguise and make it smaller. I got it this little to fit in my bag and-" he stops, as he finishes unwrapping the scarf to reveal nothing. "Uh."

"Is it invisible?" Mordred whispers loudly.

"No," Emmerson says, in a nervous tone, "It's...it's shy, I think it's hiding somewhere." His face is tight as he looks up at Athur, mouth closing in a thin line, almost as if he’s biting his lower lip.

"The dragon wants us to play hide and seek," Arthur explains quickly. "We must go look for it. What does it look like in disguise?" he asks Emmerson.

"Yes! It's this big, the size of my hand," he holds up his hand to show, "she looks like a lizard, and all white. Aithusa loves to play games!"

"How about Mordred and I start on those baskets," Arthur points towards a corner with baskets filled with toys, “and you search your bag?"

Emmerson nods quickly, rushing to the bag, and Arthur leads Mordred away to give him a moment.

"Not in the bag," Emmerson calls out after a few minutes.

"Not in the toys!" Mordred calls back, and rushes towards the smaller shelves. "I'll look in the books! Maybe the dragon likes to read."

Arthur goes to Emmerson's side, and hesitates before he puts a hand light on his back. "You okay?"

"She likes sneaking off," Emmerson sighs, frustrated, "and I shouldn't have brought her out. The library doesn't allow pets," he adds, with a careful look towards Arthur, "so I had to sneak her in. If anyone finds out..."

"Ah. Well." Arthur takes a moment to repress the urge to remind him of what a bad idea it was to bring a pet, dragon or not. "We'll find her before that."

They move between shelves, with Arthur lifting some as Emmerson goes down on the floor to see if the lizard sneaked under something. Mordred is by the books in a corner, distracted from their task, but it's for the best. Emmerson is clearly nervous about losing his pet, and a child just complicates things.

"Maybe it climbed up," Emmerson suddenly says when they're passing between rows of shelves that reach the ceiling. "She likes doing that at home sometimes."

"I suppose," Arthur says slowly, unconvinced. "I'll find a step ladd..." he trails off, as in the blink of an eye Emmerson somehow climbed over to one of the highest shelves. Arthur has no idea how he did it, one moment he was on the ground, then a foot came up to the bottom shelf and suddenly he's up on the top of the opposite shelf. "How...?"

"She's not on this one," Emmerson says, and Arthur can do nothing but stand there in shock as he swiftly moves between shelves. "Don't worry about me," Emmerson says, mistaking Arthur's shock with fear he'll fall. "I do parkour a few times a week."

"You- alright," Arthur says, not computing the words very well, but. He's starting to think Merlin has his own kind of magic. "I'll go… look elsewhere."

He goes back to the bean bags, taking his time to crouch down and look between the pillows, but his search keeps getting sidetracked as he turns to look at whatever Emmerson is doing up in those shelves. He tenses up as he jumps across a corridor, and his chest stills for a long second as the bookshelf actually wobbles a bit. "You're going to fall and hit your head," Arthur says, "which I'm sure wouldn't be the first time."

"Speaking from personal experience?" Emmerson replies, reaching over to another shelf.

"Yes, from dealing with the li-"

"Ah, I figured as much," Emmerson says, his voice warmed by a grin. "Maybe you'll get better, don't worry. Time heals everything."

"Not your common sense, it seems," Arthur mutters, looking away as Emmerson climbs down a row.

He turns to the bean bags again, lifting the one Emmerson had been sitting on, and stills when he sees a quick white shape skitter away. He almost falls as he reaches forward, elbow hitting the ground as his hand covers the fast moving shape. He keeps his hand still, resisting the urge to remove it as he feels reptilian skin shifting against it. "Found it!"

"You did?" Emmerson falls on the floor with a thump, and suddenly he's by Arthur's side, his own hands gentle on the one Arthur is using to hold the lizard in place. One of Emmerson's hands covers Arthur's, and the other moves it carefully so they can shift their hold. Arthur lets Emmerson move him as needed, swallowing in dry, his cheeks heating up, and very glad that Emmerson's attention is focused on the captured lizard. His own focus is stuck on Emmeron’s long fingers on the back of his hand.

"There," Emmerson sits down on the floor next to him, the lizard now in a loose hold between his hands, seemingly at ease with staying there. Arthur moves to sit more comfortably, and looks over at the lizard, and then at its owner's relieved face as he uses one fingertip to caress the small lizard's head. When he lifts his eyes and meets Arthur's, Emmerson blinks in surprise before smiling. "It's funny, sometimes I look at you and see so much of Mordred. If I didn’t known he wasn't yours..."

"Well," Arthur gives Mordred a quick glance, to make sure he's kept busy. And to think through what he’s about to tell the man. His sister and her wife trust him, and so far so does Arthur. "Biologically he is. Gwen wanted to be pregnant with their child, so I offered."

"Oh," Emmerson glances at Mordred too. "Does he know?"

"He knows he has two mothers, and two very cool uncles. I don't have paternity rights." Arthur says. "But if he asks, we'll let him know."

"And you...?"

Arthur looks at him. "I'm good at being an uncle. Being a father isn't for me at the moment."

"Fair enough." Emmerson looks down, and then lifts his hand. "Meet my daughter, Aithusa."

Arthur hums, smiling a bit. "You birthed her yourself?"

"I raised her all on my own," Emmerson replies.

"I see," Arthur leans in, "she's a limber little thing, isn't she? I see she takes after you."

Emmerson laughs, holding the lizard to his chest. Arthur's smile turns to a grin at the sound, and he can't quite look away.

"Thanks for rescuing her."

"I wasn't the one heroically jumping between the bookshelves."

Emmerson gives him a crooked grin. "It did look impressive, didn't it?"

Arthur feels his face warming, and looks away, not knowing how to be teased. "It looked like you were about to land on your ass."

"Told you I parkour!" Emmerson says.

"Where on Earth-"

"There are gyms! I had to get up to something, you know writing and drawing children's books is just...hours and hours at home on your own. I was going crazy with it, so I found a parkour gym close to home, and why not?"

"Because you can fall on your head?"

Emmerson shrugs. "I can fall better than you."

"How about harder?" Arthur asks. Emmerson gives him a long look and Arthur nudges him away with his shoulder. "Shut up."

With Emmerson chuckling beside him, Arthur does feel like he could, maybe... maybe he could fall. It's a nice idea, that speeds up his heart, born from the peculiar energy Emmerson has, but it's also an odd concept to indulge in when he doesn't even know Emmerson's first name. It feels like something fun, something with potential, and something that could go from want to need without much work.

Maybe Arthur did spend some time in the past week thinking about Emmerson.

"Mordred!" Arthur calls over. "We got the dragon."

"Dragon!" Mordred exclaims in a loud whisper, rushing over with his tiny legs. He sits down between them on the floor, making room where before Emmerson's knee was resting against Arthur's thigh, practically climbing over both their laps. "Let me see!"

"You’ve got to be gentle with her," Emmerson says, his voice softer as he moves his hands to bring the lizard closer to Mordred. "Aithusa is a shy dragon."

"Hello Aithusa," Mordred whispers, a finger slowly coming up to touch her head. The lizard doesn't react, but Mordred is enchanted with it. "You're a very small dragon! Where are your wings?"

"We had to hide them, remember? Because it's a secret," Emmerson says.

"Right," Mordred nods, and tilts to rest his head on Arthur's shoulder as he slowly and very carefully pets the lizard. Arthur smiles down at him, holding the boy to his side. This gentle, intense boy he has. He does love his nephew.

"Does she breathe fire?" Mordred asks.

"Only when she's very angry," Emmerson says, "Or when I give her spicy food."

"You give her spicy food?" Arthur asks, skeptical.

Emmerson gives him a wink. "She's a dragon, she needs some heat."

Aithusa lets them pet her for a while, before she squirms between Emmerson's fingers and climbs into his sleeve. "Oh," he says, bringing the arm to his chest. "TIme to go home, I think."

"Nooo," Mordred tries to look inside Emmerson's sleeve to chase after the lizard. "Can we go with you? You could come with us!"

"Dragons need to rest in quiet," Emmerson says, "that's why they live in caves away from everyone."

"Then she needs a bedtime story to sleep," Mordred says, "I could go give her a story."

"Mordred," Arthur says, pulling him back away from Emmerson. "Mr Emmerson is good with stories, he can manage."

Mordred's lip wobbles, and Emmerson jumps in. "How about you tell a story now? Then she'll sleep on her way to her cave."

Mordred seems to consider this and nods, with a pleased smile that is all Gwen. "I can tell a story."

"How do all good stories start?" Emmerson prompts him.

"Once upon a time," Mordred answers right away, but needs another pause. "There was a boy."

"He was a very caring boy," Emmerson continues, "and what he cared about most of all were dragons." Then he pauses, and looks at Arthur.

Arthur tenses up, not expecting nor particularly wanting this task, but he tries. "One day the boy found a dragon flying...down the street."

He's rewarded by bright smiles from the other two, and his heart doesn't seem to want to calm down.

"The dragon was shopping!" Mordred decided, "he wanted a new wizard hat. The dragon, the dragon is studying to be a wizard!"

"But none of the stores have a hat big enough for him," Emmerson continues, eyes going to Arthur's again in challenge.

"Until...he met a seamstress, who promised to weave him a wizard hat if he could help her."

They go around in circles, each building into an increasingly convoluted story of a wizard dragon, until Mordred is falling limp against Arthur, having tired himself out.

"We both have kids to put to bed," Emmerson whispers to him, as he helps Arthur secure his hold on Mordred. With Mordred's soft sleepy breaths on his collarbone, Arthur gets up.

"Thanks for indulging him," Arthur says.

Emmerson shakes his head. "He's a good kid. I like being here for him."

Arthur holds Mordred close,and walks towards the room's exit, reluctant as Emmerson stays behind. He watches as the other crouches by his bag and coaches his lizard to move back into the scarf. "Still, you don't have to."

"I know," Emmerson replies. He's wrapping Aithusa in his scarf when he turns his head to look at Arthur again. "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

Arthur should have left the room when he had the chance. "Yes, Morgana asked to fill in again," he lies. "It's rare they get moments just for themselves."

"Hm," Emmerson goes back to his task, carefully placing the wrapped scarf in his bag and closing it. "Will you be coming next week too?"

"If she insists on getting this time off, yes," Arthur says, internally cringing at himself.

Emmerson finally looks at him again, a thoughtful look on his face. "Well. See you then, if you do come."

"Yeah, you too," Arthur says, and leaves before he can bury himself any deeper than this. How does he keep putting his foot in his mouth around this man? He really can't come next week now, that'd be too obvious and embarrassing. He's going to take Mordred home, and then schedule something with Gwaine and Lance for the next weekend and keep himself busy.

--

The knight had found the missing dragon, and helped him to fly into his cave, but now he didn't know what to do. He was fair, and just and very brave, but this was a conflict he didn't know how to solve. How could the knight help the dragon find its family without being seen? A dragon flying over land would be spotted sure enough, and when people see a dragon they get scared. The dragon can't fly unseen, so maybe what they needed to do is make people appreciate dragons...

--

It's Saturday afternoon once more, and Arthur finds himself sitting on the padded floor of the library with his nephew on his lap, listening to Emmerson's story. He's still trying not to die of embarrassment over the knowing look Morgana had given him when he showed up at her doorstep wearing the red polo.

At least no one else in this room knows what's the deal with his clothes, so Arthur tries to get Morgana's smugness out of him as he watches Emmerson wave his arms, making himself taller. This week's colorful dress shirt features some raccoons, and Arthur is pretty sure he has some simple piercing on his right ear, but he can't focus too much on that without his face matching his shirt, so instead he rolls his eyes at Emmerson's silly voices. There's no need in fighting a losing battle.

Mordred seems happy enough that Arthur came along again, and it's good that he's getting these weekly assured visits, to have a more stable presence in his life. The occasional family lunch split his focus, and as much as Arthur is mostly a prop for Mordred to sit on as he idolizes Emmerson, it’s still nice for Arthur himself to focus more on him rather than on their entire family. During family outings it's too easy to slip into conversation with Elyan and let the time pass.

"Uncle Arthur," Mordred whispers as he lifts his drawing for Arthur to see. He hasn't managed to save one yet, but he'll try some angle soon enough. The drawing has six humanoid shaped figures and a serpent floating above.

"Who is it?" Arthur asks. Kids don't get offended when you ask them what they drew, and Mordred loves to explain everything he has on paper.

"This is me," he points to the smaller figure. "Mum and mamma, Uncle Elyan, you and Emrys. We're at the beach with the snake from the story."

"It's really good," Arthur says, still getting a little too prideful over being drawn by the boy.

"I'm really good at drawing," Mordred says, turning back to it, "Mamma says I'm going to be an artist, and my drawings will be at the lube."

"At the...Louvre?" Arthur corrects him.

"That's what I said," Mordred looks at the drawing, very concentrated as he draws a line on an empty area. "Do you think Emrys will like it?"

"I'm sure he will," Arthur says. "You can ask when he sees it."

Emmerson smiles when Mordred explains he included him in the drawing, right after Arthur, and his eyes go up to meet Arthur's, almost closed into crescent moons from his smile. Another picture Arthur wouldn't mind keeping for himself, somehow.

Emmerson moves on to the next child, and Arthur turns to his nephew again. “Can I have that drawing?”

Mordred looks down at the paper, frowning a bit, and then at Arthur. He hums loudly, a calculating glint in his eye that is just Morgana. “But then I won’t have any.”

“What if… I drew you something in return?”

Mordred grins. “Yes! I want a dragon, and me, and mum, and mamma…”

Mordred is a wonderful child, except for the parts he got from his mother. Arthur spends the rest of the session trying his best to comply with Mordred’s request, which means he’s distracted from his nerves, and what he has planned for after the reading session ends.

Once they exchange drawings, the magic lesson ends and parents start to leave, Arthur takes a deep breath, gives Mordred some more papel and pencils to entertain himself, and gets up. Emmerson is packing up in his corner, and glances over his shoulder at them, raising his eyebrows.

"Nice shirt," Emmerson comments when Arthur comes up to him at last.

He has a plan. It's probably too obvious why he's there for the third time in a row, so Arthur decided he might as well go for it. The red polo is tight across his chest, having shrunk a little in a wash a few years back. He postponed plans with friends he had made himself just so he could be here again, to his sister's mocking delight, so he might as well make the best of it. 

"It's an old shirt," Arthur replies, trying to sound casual and mostly coming off as dismissive, heart hammering in his chest as he holds out a hand. "Hand over your phone."

"What?" Emmerson asks, surprised.

"What, you don't have one?" Arthur raises an eyebrow.

Emmerson tilts his head, arms crossing. He’s got the posture of someone who’s about to be stubborn just because he can. “Why do you want to know, so you can rob me?"

"Why would I steal your phone? I'm sure you drop it all the time." Arthur says with some amusement. “I have a perfectly fine phone myself, I don’t need a cracked case.”

“It’s not- you don’t know that!”

“I can guess,” Arthur deadpans. He wasn’t counting on banter, which was obviously foolish of him, but he can still steer this conversation to where he wanted it to go. "Shut up and give me your phone." 

“No,” Emmerson replies, something cheeky in his expression. “Why would I do that?”

“Why don’t you just hand it over?” Arthur asks, his tone coming off as demanding to hide how he’s losing grasp on this conversation. It shouldn’t be this hard to get to put his number in Emmeron’s phone, surely.

“Because you’re being a demanding prat,” Emmerson replies.

“Only because you’re being a stubborn idiot,” Arthur says. “Come on.”

Emmerson frowns at him, eyes squinting with suspicion. “What do you want it for?”

“Why do you think, Emmerson,” Arthur answers with exasperation, a bit too flustered to give him a straight answer. 

Emmerson frowns, going from annoyingly amused to just annoyed. He does pull out his phone, but only to look at the screen and shake his head. “I… I have to go.”

“Oh,” Arthur says, having lost his balance again. “Did something happen?”

“No, I just-” Emmerson stops, grabbing his packed bag. “I just remembered I have to do... Something.” A pause as he throws the bag over his shoulder. “At the store.”

“Right,” Arthur says slowly. For someone so creative, Emmerson does give off some terrible excuses. 

“Bye,” Emmerson says, walking fast away from Arthur. He does stop to pat Mordred on the head before he leaves, but then he’s out of the door, almost at a jog, and without looking back nor waiting for a goodbye.

Perhaps Emmerson really did have to go to some store, but it seems such a fabricated excuse that he doesn’t really consider it to be an option. He has a sudden moment of clarity, realizing that all of his interactions with Emmerson have been at his place of employment which means… well, surely Emmerson doesn’t go around calling everyone a prat. Had Arthur been too pushy? Maybe what Arthur had assumed was banter was just Emmerson trying to refuse Arthur’s number. 

The problem, you see, is that people see a dragon and assume things. You should never assume other people's intentions, because how can anyone guess what others are thinking? What you can do is look at their words and their actions to read them. The knight had assumed the dragon was out in the road to hurt people, and he had been wrong, hadn't he? The poor dragon was just looking for their family. But as the knight had assumed, so would everyone else. What could they do to change this? The knight and the dragon sat together all day thinking about this and came up with a plan: people had avoided the road when the dragon had roamed it, and missed their trips. Perhaps now the dragon could carry those people on their back and fly them to their destination, and show them how good they were!

Arthur spends the entire week thinking about Emmerson. His behaviour had clearly been a bother, but by what degree? Was giving a phone number a step too far? He doesn't know if he's relieved or not when on Friday Morgana calls over to ask him to look after Mordred on Sunday instead of taking him to the library on Saturday.

"We have tickets to a play that afternoon, and we'd both like to have some time together with Mordred this weekend that isn't just getting him ready for bed," Morgana says apologetically, before her tone turns sly, "But I'll let a certain someone know you're very sad about it."

"Morgana," Arthur hisses into the phone. "Don't you dare."

"We'll see what happens..."

"No, really," Arthur insists, his voice hard. "Don't do it."

There's a pause from the other side. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Arthur brisks up. "Just call me whenever you need me on Sunday. I'm tired of listening to your witch's drawl."

"We're going to talk about this," Morgana warns him, but she lets him go for now anyway, a small mercy coming from her.

But in the end, it just means that that Saturday Arthur just sits at home playing some Call of Duty, and trying to take his mind off the whole issue, which doesn't quite work.

On Sunday Gwen is being a little too nice to him when they drop Mordred off at his place, and Morgana looks like she wants to interrogate him but is being held back by her incredible wife. Morgana clearly lucked out with this marriage, he thinks, not for the first time, as Gwen takes Morgana's hand and steers her away. 

“We have to talk about this,” Morgana says as they leave, “When we come back after the show!”

Mordred doesn't have anything to say about Arthur missing their library visit, so maybe nothing happened, although by Morgana’s exasperated looks when she warned him, Mordred probably just missed whatever his mother did to intervene. Arthur plays with legos and takes Mordred for a walk, watches Moana with him and puts him to bed, all the while dreading whatever Morgana has in store for him.

“You’re an absolute disgrace,” Morgana tells him when they come, late at night. 

“How was the show?” Arthur asks, ignoring Morgana’s usua opening statement to him..

“Wonderful,” Gwen says, “It had such wonderful music! And the sets, weren’t they lovely?”

“Yes, dear,” Morgana agrees. “But we'll recommend it some other time, we have more pressing matters at hand. Arthur. My very very obtuse brother.”

“Morgana.” Arthur crosses his arms, already disliking this conversation.

“We spoke yesterday to your little crush-”

“Emmerson isn’t-” Arthur stops, his cheeks on fire.

“Then how do you know I was talking about him?” Morgana asks smugly, like the annoying sister she is. “Well. He seems very confused by you, because apparently someone forgot to tell him their name.”

Is there any conversation evolving Emmerson that Arthur can keep a hold of? “What?”

“I’m assuming you merely forgot to tell the man you’re infatuated with your name.” Morgana says, raising his chin. “Otherwise I’d have to question your sanity ever further than usual.”

“Morgana,” Gwen chimes in with reproach. “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.”

“He knows my name,” Arthur says, but he’s thinking back on it, and he can’t remember if he actually introduced himself to Emmerson by name. He must have, surely? Emmerson has called him… He can’t recall Emmerson using his name in any of their interactions. He looks at Gwen, because surely Gwen wouldn’t play a joke on him like this.

She gives him an awkward smile and a pitying look. He shouldn’t have looked at Gwen for answers.

“Maybe you should talk to him soon,” she says kindly.

“And actually talk,” Morgana says, leaving the room.

“Was it… how bad was it?” Arthur asks Gwen, now that the viper is gone.

“Oh, it’s not bad! Maybe a bit awkward, given… the situation,” Gwen says. “But it’s a rather simple matter, right?”

“Right.” Arthur says, unsure of how he can face Emmerson with this embarrassing situation between them.

Morgana returns with a sleepy Mordred in her arms. “Do get this in order, brother,” she says, as she gently moves Mordred’s head further up her shoulder. “It’s embarrassing being related to you when you act like this.”

“Do make this about yourself, won’t you,” Arthur shakes his head. 

“Seeing it’s my son’s favorite tutor you’re terribly failing at flirting with, I don’t see how this isn’t about me at all.”

Gwen grabs Mordred’s bag and goes over to kiss Arthur’s cheek. “It really isn’t as tragic as Morgana says. I’d be a bit mortified, but- you don’t have to be! It’s going to work out fine.”

Arthur moves ahead to open his door for them to leave him. “Just… leave me be to my not mortification.”

Morgana cackles quietly, so she doesn’t wake Mordred. “We’ll see you Saturday then?”

“Yes, shut up, just go!”

On Monday he goes to work and gets busy. He has a few calls from the sister company in Belgium, and gets the notice a new intern will join his project next week. He has a lot on his mind and no time for Emmerson. It's all fine.

When he gets in bed that night he gets compelled to use his phone to search for Emmerson’s book, The Wishing Lake. Written and illustrated by M. H. Emmerson, Arthur finds the cover of a squared book, with some watercolor illustration, with colorful lines in textured pencils giving it life. The few pages he finds in previews have good drawings, at least to Arthur’s untrained eye. He already knows Emmerson is a creative and engaging storyteller, but he still chuckles, charmed by the few snippets he finds. He stays on the book’s Amazon page for a long time, considering how embarrassing it’d be to buy the book. He closes the phone leaving the book on his cart, deciding to try to find the book at his sister’s flat next time he visits instead.

Tuesday comes, and Arthur is busy in the office, but he can’t sit on this situation with Emmerson any longer. It’s ridiculous that this all hangs on his name, and the solution is so simple, even if embarrassing, so after work he makes his way to the library. 

He goes inside, crossing the petite woman on the reception, and moves into the familiar children's area, which is empty. With a frown he finds himself going into the different sections of the library, and it takes him three rooms to go back to the reception.

"HI, how can I help you?" the librarian asks. Arthur knows her name, he thinks he must have heard from Emmerson or Morgana

"Is Emmerson in?" Arthur asks.

The woman - Freya, he’s sure - quickly looks him up and down, her smile changing into something somewhat sharper. "He only comes on Saturdays for his reading session. Did you need something in particular from him?"

Right, Arthur forgot he wasn't actually a librarian, he's not just there all the time. Freya is still waiting for a reply, and he's not about to tell her he’s here to give Emmerson his name. "I'm looking for a book he recommended," he blurts out. "I can come back later."

"I can help you find it," the librarian says with what Arthur has the feeling is weaponized kindness. "Do you remember the title?"

"No," Arthur answers, "that's why I wanted to talk to him."

"I see. What was the book about?"

"It was about..." Arthur tries to come up with something. "Birds."

She gives him a look. "I can take you to the section."

"Thank you," Arthur replies, and then he’s being led to a section about animals, and then birds in particular. The librarian doesn't leave him there on his own, so he can't just sneak off. Arthur picks a book at random from the shelf. "It's this one, I believe."

" 101 Duck Facts You Simply Honk Believe In ," Freya reads the title out loud, and then obviously fights a grin. "Would you like to check it out?"

"Yes, thank you," Arthur says, trapped in a corner as he hands her the book and follows her all the way back to the reception. Five minutes later he manages to leave, book in hand and a reminder he needs to return it in two weeks.

Nothing he plans regarding the library seems to go as he expects it to. He should probably stop trying to plan ahead.

No one wanted to fly on top of a dragon's back, which the knight simply thought was ridiculous. He had a lot of fun himself sailing through the clouds, but everyone else didn't even consider the idea to try! Some hid away from the dragon, and others tried to attack him, and at some point they had to face the facts - it's hard to change people's perceptions. "But don't you worry," the knight said, laying a hand on the dragon's neck, the scales smooth and shiny, like his very own armour. "We don't need you to be useful for everyone else. What you need is a friend! I'll help you look for your family, and if anyone tries to harm you, you'll have me to keep you safe." The dragon twirled around the knight in happiness, for it never had such a friend before. It’s large snot bumped into the knight’s chest, and the dragon spoke back. “You forget, dearest of friends, that you feared me too at first! As I had feared you. If we gave each other a chance, then we can do the same for everyone else.” The dragon was right! Some things take work, but with good friends by your side, my young wizard apprentices, you’ll see anything is possible!

Next Saturday Arthur picks Mordred so fast Morgana doesn't get a chance to mock him again before he's out of the building and walking by the park once more to take Mordred to the library. The first thing he does when he gets there is go to the reception and return the book.

"That was fast," the librarian says, taking the book. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Very much," Arthur says, stepping back. "Thanks for your help."

"Anytime," Freya gives him that sharp smile again, and Arthur moves to the children's section to get away from her.

Emmerson is already setting up by the bean bags when they get in the room. He stops for a moment, looking at the two of them, before he goes back to his task. Arthur feels wrong-footed again, but steels in his resolve. He won’t expect anything but a conversation after the session, as short as it might be.

“Why don't you sit by the front?” he suggests to Mordred. “I’ll wait here.”

Mordred looks up at him. “You’re sitting with me.”

“Not today, I have to check some books.”

Mordred hesitates, but then goes on to sit by the front, next to another kid. Arthur wanders around the back of the room as the reading session goes, trying not to disturb it while still having both Mordred and Emmerson in sight. He can’t really tell what the story is about this time, as his focus on what’s being said only comes in once the kids talk about spaceships and bunny burrows in the transformative part of the session. 

He waits around as parents and kids leave the room, which also gives Mordred some time on his own with Emmerson. Once it’s just the three of them Arthur goes over to the other two, handing Mordred a book on dinosaurs, his eyes mostly on the other man.

“I’m Arthur,” he blurts out. “I thought you already knew.”

Emmerson smiles a bit. “I know, you sister told me last week. Although she did say I should probably call you ‘an imbecile who can’t manage basic human interaction’ , which does appear to be rather apt.”

“That- you shouldn’t listen to my sister in any regard.”

“Oh, so she was wrong when she gave me your name?”

“You- I didn’t realize I never told you, and to be fair,” Arthur pushes forward, now on solid ground. “I don’t have your name either.”

“What are you talking about? I gave you my name when we first met.” 

Arthur almost rolls his eyes. “Mr. Emmerson? That’s not your first name.”

“No,” Emmerson says slowly. “It’s Merlin. As I told you.”

Arthur stills. “Your wizard name?”

“It’s-” Merlin breaks into a wide smile, letting out a laugh. “It's just my name! Did you really think-”

“You have this whole wizard theme going on-”

“ Because of my name, not the other way around!” Merlin is still laughing at him, but it’s such a lovely sight Arthur can’t hold it against him.

“Oh.”

“Is this why you kept calling me Emmerson?” Merlin asks, a hand covering his grin.

“I wasn’t going to call you by some ridiculous wizard name-”

“It’s my name!” Merlin says with another laugh.

“I know that now, Merlin!”

Merlin’s hand drops to reveal his wide grin. “So, Arthur. Are the two of you busy?”

Mordred is looking between them in confusion, book clutched to his chest. Arthur pats the top of his head and looks at Merlin. “We have time.”

“Would you like to go for a walk?” Merlin asks. “There’s a spot in the park I think you’d like.”

Arthur is grinning back now, he can feel the shape of that happiness and relief on his face. “Lead the way.”

They walk out close together, with Mordred holding onto Arthur’s hand. His free hand keeps brushing the back of Merlin’s, and that feeling carries him through the reception and the knowing look Freya sends their way.

They get on the park Arthur usually passes by when taking Mordred to the library, and Merlin leads them further in, between trees until they come by a pond. It’s peaceful, with few people around even though it’s a sunny Saturday afternoon, and Arthur looks at Merlin appreciatively. 

“Not here to murder us in the woods?”

“No,” Merlin grins, leading them closer to the water. “Freya told me you came in the other day to check out a book on ducks. Since you like them so much, there.” He points at the water, and there they are. Ducks. 

“Ah. How thoughtful.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d like it,” Merlin’s grin as a glint to it. “Could you tell me about these ducks? I don’t know much about them.”

“Ah, they…” Arthur looks at the water. Some are brown, and others are white and black? Green? He can tell they’re ducks. “You know, I don’t think I know about these ducks.”

“Oh, you’re sure? None of the 101 duck facts were about these?”

“Not that-” Arthur looks away from the ducks to Merlin’s amused face, things clicking up very quickly. “I didn’t read the book, alright?”

“Oh, really?” Merlin is still grinning, eyes almost closed from wide it is. “Then why did you check out the book?”

“I was looking for you, if you must know,” Arthur says, “But I forgot-”

“That I don’t live at the library?”

Arthur sends him a glare that makes Merlin laugh again. A bit closer to the water Mordred laughs too.

“You know, I thought you kept calling me Emmerson to keep your distance,” Merlin says, stepping a little closer to him. “But then your sister had a lot of questions. And Freya told me about your last visit and it got me wondering.”

“She didn’t buy the duck story, did she?” Arthur asks, giving a casual step in Merlin’s direction.

“Not for a second.”

“Right, I figured as much.”

“And then there was your mysterious name.”

“Right.”

“But then everything else,” Merlin looks up at Arthur in the eye. “I didn’t imagine all of that, did I?”

Arthur shakes his head. His heartbeat is thumping loudly in his ears. One more step and he’d be right in Merlin's space. 

“So,” Merlin tilts his head, eyes on Arthur’s, “what would you say about us-”

“Emrys, Uncle Arthur!” Mordred calls over, “Come to the sea!”

Arthur and Merlin share a look, tension fading a little.

“How about we go grab a coffee tomorrow?” Merlin says, “Just the two of us, no children on our ankles. I can tell you about the book I’m writing.”

“Let me guess,” Arthur says, “Is it about a dragon?”

Merlin laughs. “And a very prattish knight. If you want to know more you have to take that coffee with me.”

Arthur chuckles, his chest warm. “Just to see what that head of yours came up with.”

“Uncle Arthur! Emrys!” Mordred calls again.

Merlin turns towards Mordred, but Arthur stops him, a hand on his wrist that he uses to tug him close, not ready to end this moment. Merlin looks back at him, his smile fond now, eyes a bit nervous as they dart up to Arthur’s. His free hand grabs onto Arthur’s shoulder, and he’s still smiling as he presses his mouth on Arthur’s. That clever mouth is soft, warm, and giving a steady pressure even as Arhtur pulls him even closer.

“Uncle Arthur!”

They break apart from their kiss with a sigh, Arthur’s almost coming off as a groan. He looks at Merlin’s amused and apologetic expression, and wishes that he found the strength to come visit Merlin on his own this week. He just couldn’t get over the imagined look of disappointment on Mordred’s face. For one second he lingers on what they could be doing with no kid around to watch over.

“Remember what I said about kids?” Merlin asks.

“Probably the only sensible thing I’ve heard from you so far.”

Merlin hits his arm, and rushes down towards Mordred, and it’s with a light heart that Arthur follows them down to the shore. For now there’s this. Tomorrow they’ll see how the rest of the story goes.