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Arthur rolled over in his comfortable bed and stretched his limbs, relishing his restful sleep. It was an amazing feeling, waking up naturally. He hadn’t experienced this since… well, since he was a young prince, really. There was always a servant present trying to gently wake him up. Then Merlin showed up and all propriety went out of the window as he even dragged Arthur out of bed once.
He should wake up like this more often.
Hang on.
Arthur sat up at once and looked out of the window. The sun shone through brightly and, judging by its high position, Arthur was certainly late for whatever kingly duties he had (it was Merlin’s job to remind him so why should he remember?). “Oh, for Camelot’s sake!” he groaned, lobbing a pillow at the door. A knock, and one of his guards hesitantly pushed open the door.
“Sire?”
“Fetch me my useless manservant,” ordered Arthur as he tugged himself from his bedsheets which had twisted around his legs. The guard had thankfully left by the time Arthur attempted to stand up and instead ended up falling flat on his face. This wouldn’t have happened had Merlin been here, like he was supposed to be.
He waited for what felt like hours and, convinced the guard had given up — or had joined Merlin in whatever useless thing he was doing — Arthur stormed out of his chambers, intent on finding that bastard. Plenty of servants passed him with their heads bowed, the very picture of decorum, but none of them were the disrespectful fool he was looking for. His fool would be walking around with his head held up high and a goofy smile plastered on his annoying yet admittedly endearing face.
Just then, Guinevere walked past, her arms filled with an extravagant bouquet of red and purple flowers. She curtsied upon seeing him and then stopped in her tracks. “Your Majesty,” she greeted, turning to face him and pointedly keeping her eyes on his face. “Is there a reason why you haven’t chosen to get dressed?”
Oh yes. He had walked out dressed in his sleep-clothes, hadn’t he? Arthur held his head up high, looking every inch the king he hoped he was. “Merlin,” he answered simply. “I can’t find that half-wit!”
“Oh, I thought Lancelot had taken him on a ride.”
What? Lancelot? His knight had taken his servant on a horse-ride and he didn’t know about it? “And why is Merlin gallivanting around instead of serving me?” asked Arthur, trying his best to stay calm. He was going to have a long chat with Merlin afterwards. Featuring some raised voices on his end, that was for sure. The traitorous part of his mind reminded him that Merlin wasn’t the type to back down either. Another vexing yet unusually engaging feature. Arthur didn't give it much thought, choosing to add, "What possible reason could there be for Merlin to be with Lancelot?"
“Because it’s his birthday,” said Gwen cheerfully. Her smile dimmed when Arthur blinked back. “You did remember that it was his birthday, right Arthur?”
Arthur did not remember. In fact, Arthur could not remember because he didn’t even know that today was Merlin’s birthday. He told Gwen as such but she only frowned. “Did you ever ask him? You know Merlin never talks about himself.” Arthur scoffed. The idiot never shut up! He would talk about every boring chore he had to do and every butterfly he saw whilst doing said chores. One time, Arthur had to listen to a three hour speech on a bird which had looked at Merlin 'the wrong way’. He wasn’t going to admit that he liked it because he didn’t! He didn’t like the way Merlin’s face scrunched up when he was angry, or how he bit his lip when he focused hard to remember some stupid detail. No, he hated it. Of course he did.
“I assumed he would just tell me!” Merlin knew when Arthur’s birthday was. Then again, the entire kingdom also knew when his birthday was, given the celebrations the castle did. But his point still stood. It was Merlin’s fault that Arthur didn’t know. He punctuated this with a definite nod, which Gwen seemed to take personal offense to.
“You’ve seriously never wondered? How long have you known him?” Too long. Had he really never realised this before? Even Arthur was surprised by this, though Gwen now just looked disappointed. “Are you at least going to give him the day off? You probably haven’t gotten him a present,” she added reproachfully. Arthur ducked his head, no longer feeling like a king, but instead, a bad person.
Which was insane because it was, as he had justified to himself, entirely Merlin's fault he was even in this position. But the justifications weren't enough to convince his heart; the stupid treacherous thing.
“Looks like he already took it off,” muttered Arthur, forcing his mind to find a way to make it up to Merlin. “What are you giving him?” That's it! He was going to give Merlin the best present ever, he decided. Something which made him feel guilty for not telling Arthur his birthday.
Gwen held out the flowers in her hands and smiled at them. “I picked these for him. I’m going to make a dragon from the flowers and hopefully, he can bring it to life using his magic,” she said, mouthing the last word.
“Gwen, it’s alright,” laughed Arthur. “In a week’s time, magic will be fully legalised. You can say the word!” But she shook her head.
“Some of the knights and advisors, they’re old fashioned. You know Sir Bedivere gives Merlin a hard time ever since you revealed his magic to everyone.” Arthur couldn’t help the frown on his face. Merlin hadn’t told him of any problems he was facing about this. Not to mention Arthur couldn’t believe his own knights — Knights of Camelot known for their bravery and chivalry — were looking down on magic like cowards. “But don’t tell Merlin I told you. He says he’s going to deal with it.”
Now Arthur was more worried. Merlin had unconventional ways of ‘dealing with things' and Arthur had personally suffered the consequences. The case in point: Merlin had told him twice to not wear his muddy boots indoors but to take them off and carry them in. Of course, Arthur hadn’t listened — contrary to his manservant's beliefs, he was still the king — and so Merlin felt he needed to prop a bucket full of cold soapy water on the door. It was angled very conveniently (although now Arthur knew it was clearly a product of his magic) to spill its contents on the next poor, unsuspecting soul. His explanation?
"I was just getting ready to clean up the usual mess again because there's this ass who doesn't listen to the pleas of his servants and insists on tracking mud everywhere."
"But why was the bucket on the door, Merlin?"
"No idea. Perhaps it too wished to teach the royal clotpole a lesson. Truly, a Yuletide miracle."
Needless to say Arthur never forgot again, not even by accident. Now that he could use magic without fearing consequences, Merlin was unmatched. “Anyway, I’m sure Merlin would appreciate anything you give him,” said Gwen before leaving. Arthur nodded absent-mindedly. What could he give his manservant?
“Your Majesty?” George shook Arthur from his thoughts as the servant led him back to his chambers. “Has Merlin not come to dress you, Sire?”
“No,” sighed Arthur as he looked around the room for inspiration. Would Merlin like one of his pillows? They were an exquisite shade of red and a gift from the eastern lands. “Merlin’s busy, apparently.”
George harrumphed loudly as he helped Arthur into his tunic and breeches. “I shall convey Your Majesty’s displeasure next time I see Merlin, my lord,” he stated with a low bow. “Would my lord like me to list the royal duties that need to be attended to today?” he asked in his usual monotone manner. "Or perhaps my king would prefer a more amusing start to the day? I have one involving a tailor and a brass sewing needle." Arthur bravely held his shudder back and dismissed the servant, not keen to be spending any more time than necessary with him.
He left for the throne room with the dilemma of Merlin’s birthday present still hanging around in the forefront of his mind. How was Arthur supposed to get something that nobody could compare to? It shouldn’t have been this difficult — he was the bloody king! He had everything at his beck and call. Yet Merlin never liked material things. The stupid imbecile loved flowers and walks in gardens and fucking Lancelot had gotten there before him! Merlin already looked at him like the bloody knight hung the goddamn moon. How could he impress Merlin more?
He wasn’t going to get any work done today, was he?
///
“Lancelot, where are we going?” asked Merlin with a slight laugh for what felt like the thousandth time. He had been awoken at a truly awful hour in the morning by Lancelot who simply told him to get dressed. “You can’t just kidnap me, Arthur would have a right fit.”
Lancelot turned on his horse before Merlin could begin his tirade on Arthur’s uselessness again. “You’ll see. Plus, I’m sure Arthur’s not completely useless.” This was the wrong thing to say as Merlin once again spent the next ten minutes detailing what he assumed Arthur’s life was like before he entered the picture.
“I mean, how else did I manage to save his life on my third day in Camelot?” Merlin wondered out loud. He nodded, as though this was definitive proof of Arthur’s lack of competence. “I wouldn’t be surprised if by the time we returned, the castle was under attack and some sorcerer had Arthur at his mercy,” said Merlin with a dry chuckle. His smile faded as his mind played out the exact scenario and a small doubt introduced itself — what if the clotpole got himself killed in some way? What if a sorcerer had been hanging around, waiting for him to leave? What if Lancelot had been enchanted to take him out?
“Merlin! Stop overthinking,” called Lancelot from the front and Merlin forcibly pushed the worry away. He was allowed one break, for the Goddess’ sake. “Take a deep breath and relax, okay?”
He snorted in response. Relax? Merlin hadn’t relaxed since forever! How could he let his guard down when so many things could go wrong? Before, Merlin had to worry about rogue sorcerers threatening Camelot and Mordred deciding to turn evil. But now, after he was forced to reveal his magic following The Disaster (Mordred getting drunk — enough said) he had to worry about his own life as well! Servants and nobles alike were either nervously waiting for him to snap and turn evil or were outright threatening to murder him.
And Merlin couldn’t tell anyone either, because after all, he was just a servant. A servant with magic who Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table trusted, but that was it. He just had to keep his head down (and his eyes open for murderers) and get on with both his servant duties and keep-Arthur-safe duties. Things were supposed to get easier after revealing his magic! He had dreamed of a life where he wouldn’t have to hide behind trees and take down bandits or disguise himself to help save the kingdom. Merlin dreamed he could find out just how powerful he was. But no. He was still hiding, only in plain sight this time.
The only good thing that came out of the disastrous night was a certain knight making a blood oath to never kill a certain king. Granted, Merlin was still highly suspicious of Mordred and constantly made sure that he and Arthur were never in a room alone, but it was an extra safety measure which he appreciated.
(And if Merlin noticed how happy Mordred became after he was being acknowledged and spoken too, he didn’t show it.)
“We’re here!” announced Lancelot after a short while. He dismounted his stallion and immediately offered to assist Merlin off his horse, which Merlin accepted with a roll of his eyes. Noble knights these days. He looked around and back at Lancelot — what were they doing at an empty field? Lancelot smiled knowingly at his confused glances and just spread his arms out. “You seem quite tense these days and Gaius suggested that you needed to spend some time in nature and release your magic so here we are.”
“I’m not tense,” lied Merlin quickly. Lancelot saw straight through that (of course he did) and shook his head with a fond smile.
“Arthur’s not wrong to complain about you. You never listen. Even Guinevere told me how worried she was. Do you really feel like you still have to hide your magic, Merlin?” asked Lancelot, a serious expression replacing his earlier amusement.
“Can’t believe Gwen sold me out like that,” muttered Merlin. Lancelot simply raised an eyebrow, looking strangely like Gaius. “I-I guess. It feels like everyone’s waiting for me to perform, like I’m an animal from those visiting shows that Arthur detests. I’m not going to use my magic with everyone staring,” he said with a shrug. He didn’t know how much more of the hissing, staring and pointing he could take.
That was what made the least sense. Merlin never minded rumours before. The Goddess knew how many had gone around about him and Arthur! But now, it was different. He was terrified of every rumour because what if Arthur heard? What if he changed his mind? He quite liked how Arthur hadn’t made a huge fuss and simply asked him to explain. And now, thanks to some stupid noble, Arthur was going to get second thoughts. What if the magic ban didn’t get lifted?
“You’re doing it again. Overthinking. Okay, come on,” said Lancelot with a sigh. He took off his cloak and armour, leaving them by the horses much to Merlin’s outraged gasp. The amount of cleaning they had undergone only to be dumped like that! After removing his boots, Lancelot sat down in the middle of the short grass, looking nothing like the nobleman he had become in the past year but reminding Merlin of the Lancelot he had met all those years ago. “Well, what are you waiting for?” He gestured for Merlin to sit down beside him.
“Show me your favourite spell.”
“Again? You’ve already seen it,” said Merlin in a tired voice. The bright sun was making it very hard to stay awake, or was that the overwhelming sense of doom that had taken over his life in the past couple of months? Was there a difference, even? Maybe the sun was in cahoots with Morgana.
“Again.”
Merlin sighed and rolled over onto his stomach. The knight copied his position as Merlin cupped his hands and breathed into them. The first time he did this spell, it was purely instinctive. He had no idea what to expect and was genuinely surprised the first time a vibrant blue butterfly flew out of his empty hands. Although now Merlin knew what to expect, it still was a surprise when the butterfly came out in a new colour. Like now — a dark red butterfly rested in his palms.
It tested its wings and fluttered around their heads, resting for a few seconds on Lancelot’s shoulder. Merlin looked back at his hands and it felt as though a dam had broken inside him. Magic pooled at his fingertips and demanded to be released. He hadn’t even realised how long he had been holding it all back until Merlin touched his hands to the grass.
A dizzying feeling accompanied as the wave of magic flowed through every inch of his body and into the soil. The effort of holding himself up, of even keeping his eyes open was too much and Merlin laid on the floor as though he were asleep. Inside, as magic left him, it took the uneasy feeling in his stomach and the stresses that kept him up at night with it.
When he raised his head, Merlin felt like a new person. He couldn’t even remember why he had been so worried before. He felt truly alive for the first time, excited for the future. He had revealed his magic, for the Goddess’ sake! Arthur was legalising magic, for the Goddess’ sake! Mordred had sworn not to kill Arthur, for the Goddess’ sake! Why on earth had he been so worried about what the stuffy nobles thought? Merlin was doing what he was supposed to do — magic was returning to Albion!
He sighed loudly and next to him, a bright laugh broke his train of thought. Merlin finally opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. The previously empty fields were now covered in the most diverse plants Merlin had ever seen. Roses in every shade possible lined a pathway to the horses, who were now standing nervously next to trees which threatened to touch the clouds. Other flowers occupied the gaps between bushes and fruit trees enticed him with their ripe, juicy treats.
“You feel better now, don’t you?” asked Lancelot as he pulled Merlin into a long hug. Yes. There were no words to explain this sensation. He poured his gratitude into the hug whilst a small part of him laughed — only he, fucking Emrys, would feel alive after letting magic out!
His head felt much clearer and his entire body felt so light, Merlin was certain he could float all the way back to Camelot. He hadn’t even noticed when his magic had started to suffocate him but, now that he could think much more clearly, Merlin supposed the constant stronghold he had on his magic hadn’t been doing him any favours.
“Thank you so fucking much,” whispered Merlin as Lancelot laughed. “Never doubting you again, Lance.” Not to mention the hidden heroes who came in the form of sweet Gwen and wise Gaius. Merlin was excited to see them again, bubbling with newfound energy he simply had to show them!
Lancelot squeezed him tight as he whispered back,“Great, because now we have to head back.”
///
“Why, pray tell, is my throne room covered in blue banners?” asked Arthur, trying his level best to keep a calm, even tone. Gwaine entered his line of sight and suddenly it took more effort.
“For Merls’ birthday, Princess! We’re gonna have a huge party here,” said Gwaine and cheered loudly. The servants around the room joined in and Arthur briefly wondered if he was in some parallel universe, one where he received absolutely no respect as the King. His useless knight swung an arm around Arthur’s neck and picked up a wineskin with the other. “Wanna help?”
Arthur ducked away, ignoring Gwaine’s pitiful attempts at trying to get him back and instead decided to find Leon. There was simply no one like his First Knight to help him understand things more clearly. Leon had been his rock, both when his father married a literal troll and when Arthur had fought an impossible battle against a dragon. Leon always knew what was going on and the respect shown by Leon was unparalleled (...well, Lancelot was a close second, but that was before he had taken Merlin on his unapproved rendezvous). Maybe the banners were for some foreign king who was visiting and he had forgotten about. Leon would politely and respectfully remind him of his oversight, he decided. After all, there was no way his castle was turning into a venue for Merlin’s birthday.
Right?
“Ah, Leon, just who I wanted to see—”
“Sorry Arthur, I’m quite busy right now,” interrupted Leon as he breezed straight past him without another glance. Arthur wasn’t proud of what he did next. Or precisely, what he didn’t do. Because he just stood there, taken aback. That couldn’t have been Leon. That was clearly someone masquerading as his First Knight. Leon was the picture of what a knight should be. A clear example to all knights, old and new, of how to act in any situation.
Well, any situation except in the case of his manservant’s birthday, it seemed.
He found Elyan and Percival idly chattering by a long table filled with delicacies (fit for a dignitary!) and headed straight towards them. Arthur was going to get to the bottom of this nonsense. Before he could get the knights’ attention, Gwaine clapped his hands loudly. “Everybody, my sources inform me that Merlin is nearly here! Time for the final touches!” Arthur rolled his eyes and turned back, only to discover an empty spot where the knights had previously stood. His knights had the ability to teleport — who knew? Not Arthur.
He looked around but the hall was suddenly filled with people scurrying around and last minute decorations being hung up frantically. Arthur even watched a couple of servants dance around each other as they carried a cake that could rival the one he had for his coronation. That’s right, Merlin’s birthday cake was more extravagant than his, the King’s. Might as well crown Merlin as king, he thought.
He paused.
Should that be his gift? Nobody could top that after all. Then, the sensible part of him caught up with his thoughts and put a firm end to that idea. Back to square one.
“—randomly but— oh my god!” swore Merlin as he stepped inside the throne room.
“SURPRISE!” yelled everyone and Merlin laughed as he hugged the knights closest to the door.
“Happy birthday, Merlin!” said Gwaine, ruffling his hair.
“My birthday? I’d completely forgotten!” said Merlin with a gasp. “You said you just wanted to spend time with me!” he accused Lancelot, who couldn’t keep the broad grin off his face.
“I did. We also needed someone to distract you.”
Merlin ran around the room, hugging various servants and other people even Arthur didn’t know existed, greeting them by name and gratefully accepting whatever they thrust at him. Soon all of the previously empty tables were no longer barren and complained noisily under the weight of Merlin’s presents. Lady Emilia had even gifted him a horse but thankfully Leon stopped it from sitting on the now frail table. It brayed until Arthur took it upon himself to lead the poor thing to the royal stables. Not only was Merlin treated like royalty, but his horse too received the same privileges Arthur’s horses got.
He returned to find that the party continued for several hours and even Arthur picked up a goblet and enjoyed watching Merlin get draped under expensive fabrics and jewels, turning almost as red as his cloak. What was remarkable was the enthusiasm he showed for the smallest of presents right up to the most extravagant ones, looking genuinely happy with everyone. Although Arthur tried on several different accounts to talk to Merlin, he found himself pushed away but Merlin’s sympathetic glances made up for it. And besides, Arthur will get him all to himself later.
As his servant, of course.
It was a long night but eventually, Merlin thanked everyone cheerfully before grabbing Arthur’s wrist and dragging him away as the crowd cheered. Arthur pretended not to take note of the wolf-whistle, no doubt from Gwaine. Only once they entered his chambers did Merlin slow down yet still didn’t let go of his hand.
“So,” said Arthur and Merlin turned to him, his hair mussed and eyes glittering from the wine and the good spirits. He found himself speechless, entranced by Merlin’s beauty, and scrambled for something to say as he smiled expectantly. “I can’t believe you never told me when your birthday was!” That was not what Arthur wanted to say. He prayed he hadn’t offended Merlin.
The gods were on Arthur’s side as Merlin only laughed brightly. “I honestly can’t remember when it is myself,” he admitted, his voice slightly rough from the constant shouting. Arthur forced himself to breathe, to not get distracted. Merlin stepped closer to him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. It didn't help his hand was still encircled around Arthur's wrist, his fingers leaving minute circles in his palm. Merlin's touch ignited his skin under its lazily exploration and Arthur just about lost it.
“Present!” he yelled, partly telling himself what he intended to do. Merlin simply watched him run around the room as he tried to desperately find something. “I thought all day about what I would get you,” he said as he searched in his desk drawers. Nothing there. “You’re a very hard person to buy things for.” Arthur glanced under his bed, just in case George had left an emergency gift there. Presenting Merlin his crown seemed like a better and better option as Arthur racked his brain for something — anything — to give him.
“Arthur,” called Merlin, waiting until he paused hunting and looked up. Merlin came insanely close, stopping only a couple of inches until all Arthur could see was his deep blue eyes. “Today I realised what I had,” he said. Arthur paid little attention to the words, more distracted by the tantalising way Merlin’s lips moved. “I have you, and that is the greatest present I can ask for.”
Arthur made the mistake of looking at Merlin’s eyes briefly. They were so close that he could see the individual flecks of gold dotted in Merlin’s irises. How had he never noticed the sheer beauty of this before?
His hand was covered by Merlin’s and Arthur instinctively stepped closer, whispering, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” He tensed and waited for Merlin to let go, to step back and admit it was all a mistake.
Instead, Merlin closed the minimal distance between them and lifted Arthur’s chin with his free hand. Arthur’s eyes flickered shut and just as he raised his head, ready to finally taste Merlin’s lips, a knock sounded at the door.
Arthur was in favour of ignoring it but whichever idiot who decided to interrupt them was very keen on staying. Merlin huffed a laugh, the candles illuminating his perfect cheekbones and left to answer the door. Arthur tried not to complain as cold air replaced the warm body.
“Sire, I am afraid I haven’t seen your manservant,” said George already in a deep bow. He looked up and saw Merlin grinning by the door and straightened immediately. Before Merlin could say anything, the servant frowned. “This is disappointing, Merlin. Abandoning His Majesty to frolic around wherever you wish is unacceptable.”
“George, I—”
“And,” he continued in a louder yet still flat tone, “your duties as the personal servant to the King must come before anything and everything else. The King was disappointed with your absence and I am shocked as to how you continue to be employed even after repeat offences of the same nature. Serving the Crown is a privilege but your behaviour doesn’t reflect this.”
Merlin blinked. Arthur too was momentarily stunned. Merlin apologised immediately, all traces of amusement vanished from his tone and George looked mildly appeased. In true dedication to expressing his disappointment, Arthur smiled at how the servant hadn’t even realised that he, the King, was in the room. This was the first time anyone had ever seen George show any emotion. A historic occasion, really.
After a literal eternity did Merlin finally bid George a goodnight and return. “Where were we?” muttered Merlin, his face stopping inches from Arthur’s again. He was torn between reaching and kissing Merlin right there and then — lest someone else interrupt them — and enjoying the moment. This was the moment he had been dreaming about for years. It seemed uneventful if it was over, just like that. The horny part of his brain disagreed and rallied strongly for kissing Merlin until he was senseless.
Arthur didn’t have to make the decision as yet another knock on the door interrupted them. This time, the person didn’t even wait for the door to be opened as they barged in.
“EMRYS!” Arthur jumped in a most unkinglike manner and blinked as a very angry Mordred stood in front of him. The good news was that Mordred wasn’t glaring daggers at him. The bad news? It was directed towards Merlin. “How could you not tell me it was your birthday today?”
Merlin looked away, sheepish, but it wasn’t enough for Mordred. “Sire,” he acknowledged Arthur stoically before turning back to Merlin. “The number of shrines I walked past! The amount of offerings I helped carry for the elderly! I know you hate me Emrys,” he carried on, the anger leaving his body at once, “but as a druid, this is a very important occasion for me. To think you would take your hatred so far as to hurt me like this is what shocks me the most.”
Well. Arthur didn’t know how Merlin felt about those words but there was a hard lump in his throat. Of course, he wasn’t going to admit that, but Mordred’s defeated demeanour and depressed tone were enough to win over even a heart made of stone. Surely by now Merlin would have gotten over this petty feud he had against Mordred?
After only a second’s worth of hesitation, Merlin crushed Mordred into a hug and squeezed him tight. Arthur wondered whether he should intervene and make sure his knight was still alive but given Mordred’s squeals of excitement, he chose to just watch from the side lines. “I am truly sorry for treating you that way, Mordred,” apologised Merlin after their long embrace. “I was just worried about all sorts of stupid things and it wasn’t until I poured some of my magic back into the earth did I feel any better.”
“Wait, you felt better after getting rid of magic? Only you, Emrys,” huffed Mordred as he shook his head.
“That’s what I thought!” gasped Merlin. Arthur was sure they were going to get along like houses on a fire. He couldn’t help the dopey smile on his face, even though a part of him was worried about what this meant for the future of his kingdom. A moderately powerful sorcerer (someone Arthur liked a great deal) and a druid who was a knight in his court — his father was probably rolling in his grave.
“I got you something!” Mordred broke away and fished into the satchel slung on his shoulder, retrieving what looked like a large stone, easily the size of Arthur’s hands. It was light grey and oval shaped and he had no idea why Merlin’s mouth hung open upon sight. “I found it buried at the bottom of a trunk in Iseldir’s tent,” explained Mordred, handing it over to Merlin. “I thought you might like it.”
“Like it?” spluttered Merlin as he continued to stare at the otherwise unassuming rock like it contained great treasure. “Mordred, this is the best thing anyone has ever gotten for me!” Arthur tried not to bristle at those words and convinced himself this was just Merlin playing nice for his knight, who beamed at those words. Maybe Merlin and Mordred getting along wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“What is it?” asked Arthur but nobody paid any attention to him. Fine. He was allowing this just because Merlin was happy. And it was his birthday. He stepped closer, intentionally brushing his fingers against Merlin’s as he too looked at the egg-like thing.
After a long pause, Merlin softly said, “Aechelois.” Arthur frowned and looked at Mordred, wondering if this was another one of their strange nicknames when a loud crack echoed in the quiet chambers. His gaze dropped towards Merlin’s rock, which now had a large hole in one side.
“Merlin…” began Arthur, pausing when another crack sounded and, because apparently the present was an oversized, rock-hard chicken egg, the shell broke apart to reveal a, “goddamn fucking DRAGON?!”