Chapter Text
Arthur woke choking on a sharp, pungent scent of fresh flowers.
A jumble of smells mixed with the raw tang of damp soil pricked his senses. Arthur wrinkled his nose and opened his eyes, and saw his pillow overgrown with blooms. Not the cut, lifeless stems arranged in vases — countless flowers of every hue grew straight through the pillow fabric, circling his head like a garland.
"Merlin!!!"
He sat up with a jolt, and petals fell all over his head and face. Flustered footsteps sounded from the doorway, then his door was slammed open.
Merlin stood in the entrance. Arthur’s eyes travelled up, and spotted those ridiculous flowers growing on his head too.
It was even more absurd: the flowers grew right out of his hair — clusters of daisies, white and yellow tangled together, making Merlin look like a comical old man.
The two stared at each other in silence.
Merlin opened his mouth, about to speak, but then he caught sight of the petals all over Arthur’s hair.
He snickered.
"Don’t you dare laugh!!!"
"I’m not laughing!" Merlin pressed his lips tight, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "I’m really not —"
"The flowers on your head are going to fall off from laughing so hard!"
Merlin reached up and touched his head. When his fingers brushed the daisies, he gave them a tentative tug. They didn’t budge at all, as if they had taken root in his scalp.
"Does it hurt?" Arthur asked.
"No." Merlin wore a very subtle expression. "It just… itches a little."
Arthur took a deep breath, swung out of bed and strode to the mirror. The man in the mirror had hair as messy as a bird’s nest, not to mention the chaotic mess of unknown-coloured blooms tangled in it. The garish clashing hues assaulted Arthur’s eyes.
Merlin’s head full of plain white daisies was actually better, Arthur thought to himself.
He tried plucking the petals off — he didn’t yank the stems and roots out like Merlin had — and it worked for a second. But new petals sprouted back in an instant.
"What on earth is this?!"
"Magic… probably?"
"Of course it’s magic!" Arthur spun around sharply. "Bloody sorcerers. They never leave Camelot alone."
Merlin’s hands, hanging at his sides, clenched quietly.
Arthur paced restlessly back and forth, then suddenly remembered something and asked, "Is anyone else like this?"
"The whole castle, at least." Merlin said. "When Gaius woke up this morning, lots of red flowers were blooming in his hair."
Arthur fell silent for a moment. "Roses?"
"I didn’t get a clear look, but they were definitely red."
"…What did Gaius say about it?"
"He pulled some out, and more grew back." Merlin tried to hide the smile on his face but failed. "He’s still looking for a way to get rid of these magic flowers."
Arthur didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. He walked to the window and pushed it open —
A deranged spring had swept across all of Camelot, and the streets were full of chaotic, out-of-control crowds.
Everyone held their heads tilted up, screams of terror mixing with unbridled laughter. Countless magic flowers bloomed on countless heads.
A knight ran past the corner, his helmet transformed into an enormous sunflower. Its bright orange-yellow glow made him the centre of attention in the crowd.
Arthur spotted Gwaine by the castle gates, crowned with a cluster of fiery red dahlias, doubling over with laughter at Lancelot. Lancelot tried to slice the lilies from his head with his sword, but for every bloom he cut down, two more sprouted instantly.
Poor Percival stood dazed in the middle of the square, wearing two enormous morning glories on his head, gazing about blankly.
"Everyone?" The situation was developing in an absurd and uncontrollable direction, and Arthur had to press down the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
"Looks like it."
"Some sorcerers’ April Fools’ joke?"
"Maybe." Merlin said. "It’s revenge hiding behind the name of an April Fools’ prank."
They both knew how deeply sorcerers hated Camelot, and would never bring laughter to this place on April Fools’ Day.
Arthur stared at him for a moment. "I’m actually starting to think you’re getting a bit clever."
"I’ve always been clever." Merlin puffed out his chest.
"Oh, that’s clearly just your delusion."
He could never expect a kind word from the royal clotpole, Merlin thought, and was about to retort when a sudden shout cut him off.
"Sire!" Leon’s urgent voice called from not far away. "Something’s happened on the walls."
Arthur and Merlin exchanged a look and headed for the door at the same time. They got stuck together in the doorway — Merlin stepped on Arthur’s foot, Arthur barged into Merlin’s shoulder.
"Will you just —"
"You go first —"
"Move!"
"I am moving!"
Leon stood outside, watching expressionlessly as his king and the king’s manservant jostled in the doorway, colliding with zero coordination yet roaring in perfect unison.
"Sire," he said. "I believe this matter is more important than who steps through the door first."
Arthur and Merlin fell silent at the same time.
"Come on." Arthur said, stepping over the threshold first.
Merlin followed behind, daisy petals drifting from his head with every step.
Merlin stared blankly at Camelot’s walls. This was far more than "something happening" — this was —
Merlin glanced worriedly at Arthur.
The entire length of Camelot’s walls, from the gates to the towers, was covered in images created by magic. Not simple chalk graffiti — living, moving, talking, sound-making, lifelike pictures.
They all depicted Uther Pendragon.
But it could barely be called Uther. No one would mistake these absurd paintings for the late king.
On the wall, Uther wore a strange pink gown and a feathered ladies’ hat, riding a fine white horse. Beside him rode a troll on a mule, painted towering and immense, clad in a neat prince’s tunic yet still bloated and hideous.
The petite Uther in the scene galloped toward the troll on his white steed. The troll swept him into its arms, and they kissed.
When the long kiss ended, the scene reset. Uther appeared again in his pink dress, rode after the troll again, kissed again. Over and over. The worst nightmare in the world could not compare.
On another stretch of wall, Uther stood on a high platform, mouth open to give a speech. But instead of ringing proclamations, frog after frog hopped out of his mouth. Green frogs leaped into the crowd below, sending people scattering in all directions. Then the scene reset, Uther began his speech again, and the frogs poured forth again.
Next to it, a thoughtful caption had been added:
"Behold the great King Uther, delivering his speech on the ban on magic."
There was another section of wall — Arthur didn’t dare look.
"Enough." His voice was almost calm, but Merlin could feel his rage. More than rage — something else.
It was hurt, and… weariness.
"Sire," Leon said suddenly, sounding horrified. "I think this is… only the beginning."
"What do you mean?"
Leon pointed numbly toward the city.
Arthur turned his head, and saw enormous magic fireworks burst across Camelot’s sky. Words made of fire blazed and rotated slowly overhead, large enough for every soul in the city to read clearly:
"Lies may become truth, truth may become lie.
What you speak may not be what you mean.
What you hear may not be what is real.
Do not seek the truth. You will not find it.
Happy April Fools’ Day.
— What Camelot owes us."