Archive of Our Own ^beta

Gwen waltzes in while Merlin is in hair and makeup. That does not mean anything good; she only ambushes him while he’s being fussed over by Mary the wardrobe mistress when her morning debrief contains something he won’t like. He eyes her with great trepidation. “You may as well tell me now and get it over with.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she lies flagrantly, clutching her clipboard like it might protect her (not that she needs protection. He’s pretty sure she would win a tussle if it came down to it). “Anyway, Freya’s got the new song written for the making new friends thing next week, and speaking of new friends, we’ve finally got a guest for the helping out in the environment segments the episode after that, since stupid Muirden had to back out.”

Merlin loves that she says “stupid” in the studio instead of cursing, like some sort of alarm is going to go off if she says “fuck” around the puppets. However, the fact that she hasn’t yet told him who the guest is bodes no good whatsoever. “Edwin got an offer to speak in Stockholm,” he reminds her. “That’s a bit more exciting than children’s programming. Who have we got to replace him?”

“It’s quite a coup, actually!” she says brightly. Oh, this is not going to end well. “I’m lucky I know his sister, connections are always good to have.” Merlin tries to look severe, but Mary is ruffling his hair, and really, it’s a lost cause. “Um, Arthur Pendragon.”

“Arthur Pendragon, like, the Prime Minister’s son?” At Gwen’s nod, Merlin thumps his head back into the rest on the chair and gets a smack from Mary for his troubles. “The most conservative Prime Minister elected in years who’s always talking about how awful pretty much everything I stand for is, his son?”

Gwen and Mary make a soothing noise in tandem. “Arthur is much less conservative than his father, you know that,” Gwen continues. “I mean, he’s an environmental scientist. He might not be speaking out on climate change every chance he gets like Edwin, but surely it counts for something, and Morgana assures me he’s not supporting his father. He’s just, you know, being quiet about it.” She grins, dimples coming up. “And besides, he’ll look really pretty all dressed up as a knight.”

For all he’s dubious about the politics of anyone named Pendragon, even if the younger isn’t in politics at all, Merlin does have to admit that Arthur Pendragon is ridiculously handsome. “And he doesn’t think children’s television is a waste of time and encourages the young ones to be coddled and naïve as they grow older?” he inquires. He’s maybe a little bitter about the Prime Minister’s position on their work.

“Obviously not.” Gwen rolls her eyes. “Look, I haven’t talked to him personally, but I trust Morgana, and she says he’ll be a perfect angel and that he’s ever so pleased he gets to meet you. I’m just waiting on a call back from him, but Morgana promised it was as good as set in stone.” Merlin hasn't met Morgana, but he's heard plenty about her. He doesn’t doubt it.

There’s a lot he could say to that, but he’s interrupted by Mary finishing up with his hair, straightening his neckerchief, and stepping back. “There you go, love, right as ever. Off with you now, I’ve Freya to go yet.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He and Gwen walk out together, but before he can start begging her to find someone less likely to be a complete git, they run into Lancelot. “Good morning,” he says, resigning himself to losing Gwen to making kissy faces at her fiancé, since their recent engagement seems to have led to a resurgence of their honeymoon phase.

“Everything’s all in place,” says Lancelot, pecking Gwen on the cheek and then reversing direction to walk down the hall with them. He was probably coming to find them anyhow. “Unless something goes wrong with the puppets, we should have no trouble getting everything filmed today. Kilgharrah is all strung up and ready to fly, and the castle is all set for you this afternoon.”

“Great. I don’t know what I’d do without you two,” says Merlin, just like he says every morning. The show’s been him, Gwen, Lancelot, and Freya since the very beginning, and he knows that it never would have gotten off the ground without Gwen’s organizational prowess and connections and Lancelot’s technical skills and Freya’s songwriting.

“You wouldn’t have the PM’s son coming to guest on the show, that’s for sure” Gwen sings out, and shoves them through the door into the studio where they film. “I’m going to check on some things, you lads have a good time.”

“I take it back, I hate you,” Merlin calls over his shoulder, but he’s just met by the sound of her laughing as the door shuts and Lancelot’s vaguely wounded expression. “I could have kept doing magic tricks for children’s parties,” he says mournfully.

One of the crew members laughs, and Merlin quits whining to do his morning rounds and say hello to everyone. He ends up next to Elyan, Gwen’s brother and the genius behind the pulley-and-fishing-line system that allows Merlin’s most famous puppet (and the only one he interacts with in-scene and isn’t just a part of the puppet stories) to fly and move about. Theirs isn’t the most high-tech production out there, but the reviews are always saying that’s the charm, and Merlin doesn’t want to spend days talking to a green screen—he’s fond of the puppets that he’s made, or helped to make, over the years. Elyan grins at him. “Gwen told you about next week’s special guest, I’m guessing.”

“I’m going to make him sing,” Merlin decides. “Freya’s re-vamped ‘You Can Do It Too,’ I’m going to have him sing it with us.”

The woman herself trots in the door at that moment, finishing with pinning on the mob cap that goes with her costume on the way. “Did Gwen tell you about the new song?”

“She did,” says Lancelot. “Are you about ready to get started?”

Freya straightens a few wrinkles out of her skirt and brushes a kiss on Merlin’s cheek as she goes by him, patting his shoulder in a way that makes him suspect he was the last one to know about Pendragon coming on the show. He doesn’t bother complaining, as he’s quite used to his friends running his life.

Merlin takes his mark on the far side of the door that leads to the room that’s the set he spends half his time on, one cluttered room meant to look like a workroom in a Medieval palace, potions merrily bubbling away, with pulleys and wire tracks overhead for Kilgharrah (who he calls Archimedes when he’s on air, at Gwen’s insistence). There’s the usual bustle of camera tests and lighting adjustments, but after two years of filming a show that needs thirty episodes of material per season, plus a Christmas special last year, they’ve got everything down to a science.

“Action,” calls Lance, and Merlin comes bursting through the door like someone’s at his heels, banging the door shut behind him.

“Phew,” he says, looking around as Elyan tugs the controls to make Kilgharrah fly over to him and nuzzle under his chin. He laughs. “Hi there, Archimedes.” After a second, he turns to the camera and gives his brightest smile, bringing his latest script to mind. “Oh, hello, are you back? It’s good to see you, because it’s been quite a day. Have you ever had one of those days where it feels like you’re running late for everything? Seems like everyone in the castle has been like that today, and have I got some stories to tell you …”

“Bow to me, I’ve got you a television appearance, and you don’t even have to be the PM’s son for it,” says Morgana on the phone.

Arthur sighs into his hand as quietly as he can and gives up all hope of a quiet evening with his TV and a plate of the latest recipe he’s tried out of the Thai book Leon gave him last Christmas. “Is there any particular reason you are the one telling me this instead of a personal contact by whoever's in charge? What, is it some sort of special on the effects of climate change on the British coast?” That might be more fun than being a lecturer at Camelot U, actually. His childish dreams had thought science involved far more adventures in the woods and far less talking at unenthused students only taking his courses for a credit or to get in a good ogle. If his father wouldn’t say “I told you so” a hundred million times Arthur might look into other work.

“Not that kind of television appearance.”

Judging by her gleeful tone, he’s not going to like this at all. He's already sighing over the thought of rearranging his lectures and talking to Gwaine about the logistics of going somewhere new and whether a bunch of children's television actors need security vetting. “Just tell me it isn’t porn. Father would frown on that.”

“All the more reason to do it, in my opinion.” She pauses, but he doesn’t bother rising to that bait. “Come on, you aren’t going to guess what it is?”

“Guest appearance on Doctor Who,” he tries, even though he knows it’s not true. Morgana would have taken that for herself with no hesitation at all, had the opportunity arisen.

She laughs. “No, though good try. One of the regulars on the show has been in Doctor Who, though!”

“That doesn’t narrow it down at all, every actor in the country has been on Doctor Who at some point. And some Americans.”

“Fine, if you aren’t going to play. I’ve introduced you to Gwen, haven’t I? Charming, her fiancé is hot beyond human belief, and anyway, she’s the producer for a certain children’s show called Merlin’s Castle.”

Oh, no. Arthur looks from his phone to his television, where the picture is paused on the title card for the very same show, which he will never admit to anyone under pain of death that he watches religiously, watching every new episode within a day and frequently watching old ones when he needs some cheer. He’d come down with a horrible flu sometime in the first six months of the show’s run and ended up laid up on his couch being soothed by the pseudo-Medieval costumes and the puppets and the main actor’s wicked grin whenever he was about to do something amusing. He knows the whole thing is cheesy and aimed for children under the age of eight, but it’s remarkably reassuring to come to at the end of a long day, and he will never tell Morgana that. “A children’s show? For God’s sake, Morgana,” he manages after a few seconds.

“You want to look less like the PM’s conservative son, yes? You’re always going on about it. Well, here’s a way to make you look as warm and cuddly as they come, and you get to tromp about in chain mail to do it, don’t tell me you don’t want to.”

“I don’t think chain mail is particularly cuddly,” he says, mostly for form’s sake.

Morgana laughs. “You aren’t even putting up a fight! You secretly watch it, don’t you? You lock yourself in your office every day at ten-thirty and you sit there and wish you had a pet dragon to play with, and when they schedule you to lecture during it you cry like a little girl.”

“I do no such thing.” It even has the benefit of being true. He may watch it as much as he possibly can, but he has never watched it in the office, and won’t ever. Besides, it isn’t the dragon he’s so enthralled by, but he certainly isn’t going to say anything about that. Especially not to Morgana, because he thinks she would probably approve. “It’s simply that, through some miracle, you seem to be right, and I do like to reward you when that happens.”

He can hear her applauding lightly on the other end of the line. “Oh, well done. Look, don’t mess it up, okay? They usually steer well clear of politics, their guests are more apt to be actors and musicians and scientists, and they really just want you to be that last, not Arthur Pendragon, the PM’s dutiful son. I’m sure you can handle that.”

“Of course I can, it isn’t as though I actually spend my days shaking hands and making nice for Father. No matter that you persist in believing otherwise, I am a scholar of some repute, and while I may not be marching in parades, I do plenty of work even the illustrious crew of Merlin’s Castle would be pleased with.” Arthur looks back at his television screen, where a shot of a castle with a dragon flying overhead is still frozen, bright and cheerful, and pinches himself for lack of anything better to do. Yes, he’s still having this conversation. “Any other details I should have now? My dinner is getting cold, and it’s a new recipe.”

“Oh, of course, Gordon Ramsay, we can’t have that.” It’s probably a sign that he and his sister have too codependent a relationship if he already knows the exact way she’s rolling her eyes. “I’ll have the script and sheet music to you tomorrow, along with more details, I think that’s all I really have to say.”

Arthur thinks that over and pauses. “Wait, sheet music?”

“You’re singing,” she says cheerfully, even though she has to be able to picture his horror. It isn’t that he has a bad voice—quite the contrary, if he should say so himself—but there’s something not-very-dignified about a respected academic (not to mention the PM's son) not only appearing on a children’s show, but singing on it. “Gwen says Mr. Emrys asked for that particularly.”

“Can’t say no to the country’s favorite secret sorcerer.” This is going to end so badly. His father is going to disown him, the papers are going to find a way to make this his fault, children are going to glare at him on the street, all because he is going to get on that set and look like a starstruck idiot. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, dinner really will get cold, and there is nothing appealing about lukewarm chicken and green curry.”

Morgana laughs. “I suppose not. Tell me how it is, won’t you? It’s been a while since you had one of your dinner parties, and I’m missing you feeding us.”

“I’ll have you over soon,” he promises. “You and whoever you’re dating this week. Bigger dinner party can wait until later in the month, apparently I’ll be busy learning lines for the next week anyway.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” There’s a pause, and a loud noise somewhere in the background. “Fuck, got to go, talk to you tomorrow, if you spend tonight trying to come up with arguments to get out of doing the show I will end you.”

“Temper, temper,” he says, even though he knows she hung up the second she stopped talking. Sometimes it just feels good saying things like that to Morgana, especially when she can’t hear and exact retribution. He doesn’t bother complaining that he’s been trying to get off the phone since the start of the call and it still only ends properly at her whim either, because it’s another thing he’s gotten used to over the years.

After shaking his head and putting his phone on silent, Arthur picks up his remote and starts the show going again on his television, cheerful theme tune coming to a finish as he takes his first bite of chicken.

On the screen, Merlin comes through the door, shoulders slumped and sighing. He’s wearing a red neckerchief and shrugs his jacket onto the floor instead of hanging it up neatly, and barely smiles when the dragon puppet canters across the room to say hello. “Oh, hi, Archimedes,” he says, then turns to the camera the same way he always does. “Hey, everyone. Ever have one of those days when you’re just kind of blue? Seems to me like I can’t get anything right today.”

“Join the club,” mutters Arthur, choosing not to think about how insane he must sound, and settles in to watch the show.

When they’re filming, they generally film the live scenes in the morning and the all-puppet scenes in the afternoon, with filler when they need to, but in deference to Pendragon’s very busy schedule, on the day he’s due, they do the puppets in the morning instead. Merlin spends the morning being as peppy as may be, doing the voices with Freya’s help, telling the story that will be spliced in with the live scenes and the various filler clips, all about the king cutting down too many trees in the forest to build things and having to learn that he’d displaced a great many animals in the process, with help from a new knight named Sir Arthur, a woods-dweller who’s quite distressed at the loss of his home (a puppet Merlin spent several evenings last week making, because it may be a one-off but that’s no reason to be sloppy). It’s a fun little story, Sir Arthur and the Merlin-puppet arguing at first before teaming up and getting the rest of the palace together. Gwen insisted on a lot of it, but he figures it’ll be something new for the kids, since usually it’s Merlin and Freya who team up and they’ve gotten along from the beginning.

He eats lunch standing up with one hand (well, by “lunch” he means “pretzels,” but sometimes that happens when he needs to get things done), talking to Elyan and sewing up a quick repair on Kilgharrah at the same time, but gossip gets to him nonetheless in the form of Freya, who arrives with a little smile on her face that can’t possibly bode well. “He’s here, and in costume,” she tells them. “I’m rather tempted, with him looking all knightly.”

Merlin wrinkles his nose. “You could, I suppose.”

She laughs. “I doubt I would be able to restrain my disdain for his father’s politics if I ever met him, so we’re doomed from the start. Perhaps I should just shag him and have done with it.” She lowers her voice and Elyan makes a point of looking away, because for all he gets up to God-knows-what in his free time, he’s made the lot of them honorary siblings and barely disguises his horror when they talk about their love lives in front of him. “Or you could, it’s been a while since you had a proper shag and he’s quite famous for being bi.” She tilts her head. “Although it would be rather like Mr. Rogers seducing David Attenborough. Only a lot hotter, in fairness to you both.”

“You are a terrible person,” he says, horrified, and she’s laughing when they’re interrupted.

“Mr. Emrys?” the interloper inquires, and there is one of the most gorgeous women Merlin’s ever seen, clicking around the studio on dangerous heels and not even pausing to look down at the wires scattering the floor, which Merlin still trips on at least once daily. “I know who you are, but I don't believe you know me yet. I’m Morgana Lafayette, Gwen’s friend and Arthur’s sister. I thought I’d tag along today and Gwen said it would be all right.”

“My pleasure,” he says automatically. He’s pretty sure Elyan is gaping behind him, but he can’t blame him for that. “Welcome to the set, feel free to stick with Lancelot or Gwen while the cameras are rolling.”

She flaps a hand. “Don’t worry about that, Gwen’s already toured me around everywhere but here and I can wait for Arthur for that, the woman from makeup is fussing at him.”

Merlin hides his grin at the thought of Mary’s glee at getting her hands on the PM’s son. “She’ll have him out soon, I hope. We’ve got filming to do, after all.”

As if that’s some sort of cue, the studio door opens, Gwen leading with Lancelot behind and then the man himself, trailed by a man with shaggy hair and a wary bearing that screams “bodyguard” based off some of the rowdier press events Merlin has been to. Pendragon looks … well, Merlin is going to go with Freya’s adjective of “knightly,” because anything else would be incriminating. Mostly, he looks like the costume chain mail and tabard were made for him, like he’s used to the weight of a sword at his side, and somehow managing to be very strong- and stalwart-looking and exactly Merlin’s type, fuck him very much.

And then he opens his mouth and completely ruins the illusion. “So this is where the magic happens,” he drawls, looking around eyebrows raised and clearly skeptical about it all.

“Yep,” says Merlin, stepping forward and holding his hand out for a shake. “I’m Merlin.”

Pendragon doesn’t shake, just snorts a bit. “Yes, I believe I’d guessed that.”

Morgana interrupts, giving her brother a whack on the arm that looks both painful and well-practiced. “You need a keeper, I swear. He means he’s very pleased to be here.” Merlin hopes his face doesn’t show how very much he doesn’t believe that, but judging by the way Morgana instantly changes the subject he’s doing a bad job of keeping his face blank. “While I’ve got you, could I prevail upon you to sign an autograph for me later on? I’ve got a little cousin who’s a huge fan.”

“Actually, if you’re giving them out, I wouldn’t say no either,” the bodyguard admits with a grin. Somewhere behind him, Freya squeaks. “I’ve got a little sister. Gwaine, by the way, I’m security but hopefully unless there’s a dragon attack I won’t be needed.”

Merlin forces himself to relax, because first impressions aren’t always great, after all, and if Pendragon comes with Morgana Lafayette and Gwaine in tow, he can’t be all bad. They seem nice enough, and disinclined to put up with people being dicks. “Sure, no problem, both of you. All the time we spend filming, I don’t get to do nearly as much for the kids as I’d like, so I sign when I can.”

“He’s being modest,” contributes Gwen from where she’s helping Lancelot with the camera set-up. “Spends a lot of his evenings answering mail and such when anyone sane would be sleeping or going out with people over the age of ten who aren’t us.”

Merlin is not going to answer that with guests in the studio, because the last time he tried to go out and pull he got an apologetic look from the man he was trying to seduce and a I’m really sorry, but shagging you would be like shagging Big Bird and he sort of gave up after that. Luckily, or not-so-much, Pendragon fills in the silence. “A paragon, I’m sure. Oughtn’t we get started?”

Nobody else steps in, Freya looking as if she’s not sure if she’d rather hide behind something or watch it all go to hell, Elyan slowly disappearing into the shadows, and Gwen and Lancelot still doing set-up with the rest of the crew. That leaves Merlin to continue even though Pendragon has apparently taken a dislike to this whole thing and Merlin is taking a dislike to him. “Sure, of course. I’m sure you don’t need much of a tour of the studio.” He gestures to the room set. “That’s where we’ll be filming, Lancelot and the other techs will tell you whatever you need to do, you’ve got your script and I hope you know the lines?”

“He’s been practicing them all week,” Gwaine assures him from where he’s perched out of the way of the proceedings, relaxed but alert, as though there's much danger around the lot of them.

“If I can do lectures full of technical scientific terms, I’m certain I can handle dialogue for a children’s show,” Pendragon says, eyes rolling. Morgana pinches the bridge of her nose, but otherwise the remark passes without comment.

Merlin just nods sharply. “Good. I don’t like it when shows talk down to kids and I like being able to keep everything interesting for them, not sloppy.” Gwen, appearing behind all the guests just in time to hear that, winces and makes a negatory gesture. He makes a vow to buy her a drink later, since this afternoon is going to be a trial to her, and changes the subject, gesturing to where Elyan is stringing Kilgharrah up and getting him in starting position. “Watch out for Kilgharrah, by the way, we’re about the same height and I’m forever nearly getting hit in the head by him.”

Pendragon snorts, but looks intrigued. “I thought the dragon’s name was meant to be Archimedes? I mean, that’s what’s in the script.”

“I named the original version of that puppet before I got the show,” Merlin explains, walking over and patting the dragon’s flank. “Gwen told me I had to call him something different on air because nobody would know how the hell to spell Kilgharrah, and Archimedes is the owl from Sword in the Stone, so we figured that would work.”

For a second, Pendragon’s smile melts into the friendly side of the spectrum, but when Merlin attempts a smile in return, willing to write off the first few minutes of their acquaintance as nervousness, he shuts right down again. “Of course. Makes sense. Shall we get started, then? I don’t wish to waste time.”

Merlin sighs. “Yeah, sure. Let’s do it.”

Arthur’s never been great at first impressions. He’s never needed to be—people who want to impress his father will butter him up whether they like him or not, and people who disagree with his father hate him at first regardless of how charming he is and then he has to woo them over. Here, though, he’d truly and honestly intended to work at making at least a decent impression. He’d meant to be admiring and polite and tell Merlin how much he enjoys the show (somewhere out of Morgana’s earshot. And Gwaine’s. They’re both terrible people, really, and he really needs to revisit the idea of not needing a security detail with his father, at some point). He’d meant, overall, not to be a twat.

He’d kept up the resolution through an hour in a recording studio singing along with Merlin and Freya’s recording of the song he’s been practicing all week with the tech trying to keep a straight face and very obviously taking camera phone pictures. He’d kept it up through the introductions to everyone. It had all gone according to plan, even if he’d felt awkward and stiff in his costume, until he’d walked into the studio and there had been Merlin fucking Emrys, smiling at something and nudging Freya, and it was like his wits had gone out the window. Morgana is never going to let him live this down.

Now, though, he’s at least determined to be professional, if he can’t manage charming. Merlin’s out front, talking with Lancelot the cameraman and Elyan who runs the dragon puppet (which he definitely does not think of by its name. Either of its names, now), who may or may not be Merlin’s boyfriend, judging by the way they were standing when Arthur first came in. To that end, he turns to Freya Waters, who’s standing next to him on the far side of the wall, waiting for their cues. She gives him a sort of alarmed look, or perhaps it’s just leftover alarm from the way she seems to be looking at Gwaine, which he’ll have to ask Gwaine about later. “I saw your episode of Doctor Who,” he offers, since that can’t possibly be the wrong way to start a conversation.

She smiles, small and nervous. “Yes, I’ve been told I make a terribly good innocent student possessed by an alien consciousness. Everyone was quite shocked that I can growl.”

“You were appropriately terrifying,” he informs her gravely, the same way he would Morgana.

That, somehow, is the right thing to say, and she stops fidgeting long enough to give him a real smile, the same one she always gives Merlin and Archimedes-Kilgharrah whenever she enters a scene. “Channeling all the aggression that doesn’t get to come out in children’s television. Surprisingly useful, that.” He smiles and nods. That seems the safest route. “And Jodie Whittaker is lovely, she was a great help.” After a second, she fidgets again, glancing first at Merlin and then at Gwaine, and turns back to look at him. “Look, it’s not my place to say it, but Merlin really cares about this show, and he’s really great, I promise, just … never mind, just—”

“I don’t mean to be impolite,” he forces out, mortified.

She watches him for a second, face serious, and then there’s a tiny lightening in her expression that shouldn’t make him as relieved as it does. “Of course not. Just do your lines, be nice to Merlin if he lets you, and we’ll all get through okay.”

Arthur’s about to ask what the hell she means, if he lets him, but Lancelot takes that moment to call places, and Merlin is scrambling across the set to get ready to come through the door, giving them both a nod (Arthur’s a good deal cooler) before bouncing on his heels a few times in a way that must be preparation to go on scene. “Action!” calls Lancelot, and after a second of what must be Elyan on the other side of the set working the controls to start moving the puppet, Merlin bursts through the door.

“Hi, everyone—Archimedes, what are you doing up there?” There’s a pause, one of the ones where he somehow manages to have a completely coherent and silent conversation with the damn puppet. “Yeah, it’s been pretty loud around here today. But you should have seen it all! I can’t wait to tell you.” Another pause. “Well, there’s a new knight visiting the castle, Sir Arthur, and he got everyone to help out. I want to introduce him to you.” Once again. It’s rather maddening not being able to see what’s going on. “You can’t tell him I’m a sorcerer, though! I think he’ll be okay with you, but we still shouldn’t tell about me—I may protect the castle with magic, but I’m still not meant to be doing it, the King has been very strict lately.” This pause is almost definitely one of his sad shakes of head that he does whenever he brings up the main uniting plot thread of the show, the king who outlawed fun and thus magic (and always seems to miss it when his subjects manage to have illegal fun behind his back). “But you’ll like Sir Arthur.”

That’s Arthur’s cue, and while he knows it isn’t quite the same, he’s been in the public eye for years, and he’s certainly been on television plenty as well, even if it’s just standing behind his father at events that require the presence of the PM’s family, so he just pretends it’s that with chain mail and knocks on the door.

“Hello?” Merlin calls out.

“It’s Sir Arthur,” he responds as clear as he can through the door, feeling like a complete tit for introducing himself by his fake title even if it is in the script. “I know I’m a bit early.”

Merlin opens the door, still mostly faced towards the camera. “It’s good to be early, as long as you aren’t too early,” he says, as if confiding it to the audience, and then tosses a grin over his shoulder to Arthur, who tries not to catch his breath on camera. That would be damning. “Enjoying the castle, sir knight?”

“Yes, all the more now that I know I’ll have a home to go back to,” he says, and that gets them started. He does the introductions and responses to the parts of the story that he knows will later be spliced in with the puppet story of realizing the forest is getting cleaned out and planting new trees and other various snippets of songs and jokes and unconnected puppet skits and the occasional out-of-history field-trip clip, pretends startled (and somewhat suspicious) delight when meeting Archimedes and tries not to stand on dignity while “playing” with him. He’s “introduced” to Freya, whose dimples almost never disappear while she’s playing her part and who starts them all singing when the time comes, leading the very easy choreography Arthur spent part of the morning learning from Gwen.

It takes surprisingly few takes, which he’s thankful for—he misses a few lines, usually (and embarrassingly) after Merlin smiles at him in character, there’s a prop issue with the broom Freya was meant to use in the song falling apart, Merlin breaks off mid-scene a few times to apologize and say he can do better (prompting Arthur to do the same at one point, which gets him the only smile from Merlin that he receives when the cameras aren’t rolling), but generally it’s an easy script, nothing fancy going on on-set. Even with Arthur having to end with a big speech about the importance of taking care of nature that he’s been worried about memorizing all week, they’re finished with all of it before five, ending with the bit where Arthur announces he’s headed back off on a quest.

Arthur is about to buck up his courage to go thank Merlin for the opportunity and try to figure out how to apologize for his attitude without telling the truth (it’s a bit soon in their relationship for “I watch your show all the time and I think you’re adorable and would love to take you out for dinner and movies and a possible eventual wedding,” he suspects) when Gwen draws him to the side, smile fixed firmly in place. Merlin is signing autographs for Gwaine and Morgana—he can’t see that ending well for him—so Arthur lets it be and smiles at her. “How do you think it went?”

“Lovely,” she assures him. “Better than the time we had a string quartet in and the whole thing took two days to film because they kept causing disasters and fighting with each other when something went wrong.”

Only years of having it drilled into him that he needs to think before he speaks prevents Arthur from saying he quite liked that episode. “Well, I’m glad I was less of a disaster than that, at least.”

She rests a hand on his arm. “You were very efficient, and the kids will like it, which is what matters to all of us here. So thank you for coming, especially on such short notice. Production turnaround is quite short here, the episode should air within a month or so, we’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

They make small talk for a few minutes more until Arthur’s friends collect themselves and come over, Morgana smirking, which Arthur would be more worried about if it weren’t her default expression. Arthur waves at the rest of the Merlin’s Castle crew, tries a smile out on Merlin, who just waves back, and leads the way out of the room.

In the cab on the way home, Morgana presses a piece of paper into Arthur’s hand. He unfolds it to find one of the promo pictures of Merlin with Kilgharrah (he will never be able to think of the thing as Archimedes again), signed with a flourish and made out to a knight in shining armor.

He doesn’t ask if Merlin knew who he was signing for, or how Morgana guessed what’s going on. He just folds it up and tucks it in his coat, silently daring anyone to mention it or ask why his cheeks are red.

“Shitty day shots?” Lancelot inquires in the pub that night, looking around at all of them. Merlin can’t imagine how he looks, but Elyan is grouchy and Gwen is harried and Freya looks rather shell-shocked, so shots sound like a great plan.

“Yes,” says Freya fervently. “I’ll order,” she adds, and goes to the bar to get them a bottle of something lethal and five shot glasses, which is why Merlin loves her. She knows when they need more than just one round.

When it’s all set up, a bottle of tequila ominous in the middle of the table (Merlin is doubly glad that he ordered what seemed like half the food in the pub as soon as they arrived, his stomach will thank him in the morning), Gwen looks around the table. “Okay, I’ll start. I got a scolding from the higher-ups asking why I didn’t set up publicity around Arthur visiting and filming. Worth a shot?”

“Worth it,” Merlin agrees along with everyone else, and Gwen takes her shot.

“You lot were all horrible to be around today,” says Lancelot, almost smiling. “Worth a shot?”

Elyan gets his answer in first. “Not a real whine, doesn’t count, try again.”

“Fine. Had to yell at one of the techs this morning for making the same mistake three times in a row even after I explained it. Worth a shot?”

“Half a shot, since it was his mistake and not yours,” Gwen decides, and Lancelot obediently just takes one gulp from his shot glass.

“Knocked over what felt like half the set trying to unhitch Kilgharrah,” Elyan says, frowning. “And actually broke a pot. Worth a shot?” This time, they all nod agreement, and he takes his.

Merlin jumps in. “Pendragon took an instant dislike to me even when I tried to be nice. Worth one?”

“Normally I would say you were just being dramatic, but yeah, that looked bad,” says Lancelot, brows wrinkled. “I don’t know what his issue was. All of you?”

“Drink,” says Freya, and Merlin feels it burn going down before he turns to her to see what she’s going to come out with. She looks down at her glass, cheeks going red. “I shagged the bodyguard a few years ago.”

There’s a short, stunned silence, and then everyone says “Drink!” at the same time, Lancelot wincing and pushing his half-shot over to her when she finishes. She takes it and then buries her face in her hands. Gwen pats her shoulder, and Merlin does the same from the other side. “He didn’t seem to recognize you, if that helps,” says Elyan.

“She might be offended by that,” Merlin replies, and peers at Freya through her fingers. “Are you offended by that?”

She lifts her head. “Can I be offended and really glad at the same time? I mean, I was on Doctor Who! I’m on the most popular children’s program in the country! But on the other hand, it was a rebound shag and I’m pretty sure I was pathetic so I’d really rather never be reminded of it again.”

Lancelot, who’s usually the one worrying about their alcohol intake, pours her another shot. “We won’t remind you. And after today, I’m really doubting Arthur Pendragon will be back to the studio, much less his bodyguard.” There’s a pause. “He was really hot.” There’s another pause, because Lancelot is possibly the straightest man Merlin’s ever met and all of them are too busy staring at him to respond. He takes advantage of the opportunity to pour himself another shot and drink it before any of them can tell him he hasn’t come up with anything awful enough for a drink yet. “I’m just saying,” he adds. “I’m straight, I’m not blind.”

“That’s why I love you, sweetie,” Gwen says, and then all of them laugh, maybe more from relief than actual humor, but Merlin will take it.

Freya’s laugh is a little shrill and shaky, and Merlin nudges her shoulder with his and gives her a questioning look while Gwen starts teasing Lancelot about taking this opportunity to have a threesome and Elyan saying loudly that he doesn’t want to hear about their kinky sex games. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just really wasn’t prepared for that. I mean, he was some bloke I picked up in a club in fucking Liverpool of all places and I’d never expected to see him again. Much less body-guarding.” She pauses. “Though he did act like a copper, I guess, asking if I was drunk about six times before he would take me home.”

Merlin has no idea what to say to that. “He seemed nice,” he settles on eventually, because it seems safe.

“No matter, I’ll never see him again, subject closed,” she says, and pours them all another round of shots, raising her voice to bring the other three back into their conversation. “Let’s all feel sorry for Merlin now, Arthur spent the whole day looking at him like’s he’s a leper.”

Merlin sighs. “It’s not like I care if he likes me or not, it was just uncomfortable.”

“Liar. Shot!” says Elyan, and Merlin sighs again and drinks. “Try again.”

“I was extremely offended and pouty and am shocked anyone likes him at all if he’s always this much of a git,” he tries. They let it stand this time.

Gwen frowns and takes a sip off her shot glass like it’s a cup of tea, making a face at the taste as she does. “Morgana swore up and down as they were leaving that he’s not normally that much of an arsehole, even in his private life. Must have been having a bad day or something.”

Freya hums. “He was nice to me, actually. And he seemed charming enough with you, Gwen.”

Merlin shrugs. “So he dislikes me, then. No matter, he knows how to smile for the press so if we have to meet again it won’t be a problem.” That actually sounds really depressing, but he doesn’t bother taking another shot. His liver will thank him, and so will Mary if he goes in not completely hungover in the morning. “I need to get laid,” he says mournfully. “Isn’t being famous supposed to make people want to shag you?”

Gwen reaches across Freya to pat his hand. “Not if you work in children’s television, sweetie. People want to be able to see their kids and siblings and cousins and be able to look them in the eye, you know? So basically you need to find someone who doesn’t have anything to do with children at all.”

“I hate everything,” Merlin says to the table at large, but he smiles and lets Freya squeeze his knee under the table to console him and continues on with the conversation while they all de-stress from their days and get pissed enough to take the edge off the day’s filming but not enough to make it obvious they’re hungover while filming in the morning.

Later on, after Elyan has managed to pull the barmaid and Gwen and Lancelot have disappeared (making cow eyes at each other all the way, because they are terrible at being subtle), Merlin walks Freya home. “What a day,” she says halfway through the walk, breaking out of a hum that’s probably going to turn into a new song by the end of the week.

“Are you sure you’re okay about the whole bodyguard thing? I signed an autograph for him, I could look up his address and retroactively unsign it or something.”

She laughs, soft but real. “No, you don’t have to do that. He was nice about it when it happened, which was what mattered to me then, that was the rebound from hell and if I’d gone with anyone less careful I can’t see it having ended well. So, you know, I’ll thank him for that but be glad that he doesn’t remember me being pathetic.” Merlin nods, and she lets three steps pass. “And you’re okay with Arthur being like that? He … I don’t know, the way he acted, I don’t think he disliked you, not really.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows. “I think we have radically different memories of the experience.”

“No, you stupid thing. The way he talked about you, that’s probably a more accurate way of putting it. He talked about you as if he liked you, he just couldn’t seem to act nice to your face.”

“Like we’ve been saying all night, it doesn’t matter, I’m unlikely to see him again unless it’s in passing.”

Freya slips her hand into his. “It matters. We all know it matters.”

Merlin tries not to think about Pendragon’s obvious discomfort every time the cameras stopped rolling and they had to make nice out of character for a few seconds. “I’ll get over it, though, just like you got over your bodyguard.”

She snorts but doesn’t bother explaining why, and he lets her hum the rest of the walk to her flat, enjoying the relative quiet of the city at night.

It seems that the entire science faculty at Camelot University is watching Arthur’s episode of Merlin’s Castle. Morgana has stopped by (Arthur suspects she’s actually unemployed, he hasn’t got a good handle on what she’s meant to be doing anyway, and she’s out of her office and bothering him far too much for her to be gainfully employed), Gwaine’s made popcorn (because Arthur's father insists on security even at work but Arthur can talk Gwaine into shirking at least a bit), and everyone is gathered around the little television in Elena’s office, which she mostly has there so she can watch trashy daytime TV when she’s bored.

The whole place is unofficially shut down, and Arthur is relatively certain that quite a lot of people have taken a half hour to watch Arthur make a complete fool of himself (hopefully excluding his father, whose silence on the matter has made his point about his thoughts clearer than words ever could), but Arthur keeps himself well away from it. He shuts himself in his office with some tedious reorganization that he doesn’t trust any of the students with and pretends that nothing is happening. He’ll see the episode in the evening—or not, because it’s the first episode in a year that he is considering deliberately giving a miss even if he has a season pass.

At approximately 11:05, after the longest half hour of Arthur’s life, everyone starts returning to their jobs, giggling in the hallways and most of them pausing outside his closed door. It’s Gwaine who finally knocks, at 11:09. “Come in,” says Arthur over the irrational urge to say he’s gone out. There’s a window in his office door, so everyone knows he’s there.

Gwaine’s grin is a little less wide than Arthur would have assumed, which is good and bad in equal measure. “You’re made to be a knight,” he says. “Pretty sure half the TAs are going to have dirty fantasies about you and your sword tonight. Also if anyone starts calling you King Arthur I take no responsibility.”

“One of these days I am going to fire you.” Gwaine ignores that, as well he should considering he's actually employed by the government, and Arthur continues. “Did they do anything horribly embarrassing to the show?”

Gwaine shrugs. “Not really. Quite a good episode, for it being kids’ TV. They do some quality shit there. You weren’t bad.”

“Good to know I have a career to fall back on. Any chance of anybody in this building getting any work done for the rest of the day?”

“Some of them have lectures, but other than that, probably not. Looking for an excuse to skive off early?”

He would, but any sign of being less than dedicated to his job gets him snide headlines about nepotism and he prefers to avoid those. Really, it’s not as though his father would have encouraged him to be a scientist, if he were trying to find his son a prestigious job, and Arthur certainly isn’t far up the department’s ladder. It probably would have been easier had he avoided being snapped by the paps for all the clubbing he did at university as well—he still can’t go to a bar without the press salivating. Sometimes he devoutly wishes he’d changed his name and gone out of the country before his father ever became PM. “I wish,” he says with a sigh. “Just seeing how much ribbing I’m going to have to face when I come out.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that, if I were you. You’re going to start getting phone calls in about two minutes asking about what this appearance means about your opinions on public broadcasting and children’s television, and how much of a connection with the show you have, and whether this is the beginning of a career in show business. Taking on the mantle of Bill Nye or something.”

“I hate everything,” says Arthur, stapling something viciously. Gwaine laughs and stands in his position near the door, where he can see out the window and into the hallway both, should anyone come on the attack. Really, he’s the only bodyguard Arthur would put up with being so close, probably because he’s the best male friend Arthur’s got after Leon, and Leon’s forever traveling off doing fieldwork and guest professorships like the genius he is.

Gwaine laughs, though not at him. “I feel your pain.”

There’s a story there, probably, but they have a relationship based on a foundation of not talking about whatever is going on with them because then at least there’s someone whose trying to act natural is really actually acting natural. “I’m sure you do. And in your great sympathy, you are going to filter everyone who comes through this door so the only people to get through who will mock or moon are Morgana and Mithian. And maybe Elena.”

“Aren’t you meant to be guiding the young impressionable minds of this school? Slacker. Someday you’re going to be the crotchety old man telling kids to get off his lawn,” Gwaine says, mock-sad, but he shuts up and grins and keeps an eye out.

For the most part, the day is relatively painless, or at least more so than Arthur was expecting it to be. He lets Sophia in the department office put through one call from the press so he can say how much he enjoyed working with the cast and crew of Merlin’s Castle and then ignores his phone for the rest of the day. The students who come to see him seem inclined to giggle, but he doesn’t mind that so much, and the most mocking he gets is from Morgana (expected), Elena (who mostly just giggles at him until she starts snorting and has to leave), and Gwaine. Mithian mostly just sighs at him when she comes in to visit, but she does that a lot.

Fortunately, Arthur is home before six for the first time in weeks, since he hasn’t set any exams or papers recently and thus doesn’t have students beating down his door more than usual. He rattles around his flat for a while, neatening up the stacks of papers that he hasn’t been able to take care of, and then takes out a recipe he’s been meaning to try for most of a year and ends up an hour later with curried lamb and couscous that he thinks turns out quite well. That done, he gives in and flips on his television, silencing his phone as he goes because if Morgana calls he’s going to give something away.

Arthur’s never found it awkward watching himself on the television like a lot of people seem to, probably because he’s been in papers and in the background of news segments since he was five, despite his father yelling about minors deserving privacy. Still, this time as he flips through the set-up and starts the day’s episode of Merlin’s Castle, Arthur can’t help fidgeting and ends up getting up to get a glass of scotch during the theme song, sliding into his seat just in time for Merlin to start his opening monologue.

On screen, they work well together—not flawlessly, Arthur’s not a professional actor and it shows in his stiffness and the way he sometimes looks at the camera even when he isn’t making an aside, but well enough that if he were watching anyone else, he would have assumed they got along fine in the studio. It all works quite well with the puppets worked in between their conversations, Freya mitigates any awkwardness between them (although now that he’s met her she seems almost terrifyingly perky on-screen, she doesn’t seem to be that way in real life, but then again, nor does Merlin seem to be the bumbling idiot that he acts), and while it doesn’t do as good a job of erasing Arthur’s stress as usual, it’s satisfactory and between the alcohol, the good food, and the show, he’s smiling by the time he moves on with his evening.

And that, he figures, is that, really. Some good press for him when his father’s is reflecting nothing but badly on him, a bit of a boost for the show by bringing in all the viewers who want to watch solely to mock Arthur, and they’re done. To be polite, he’ll send a card (perhaps a separate one for Merlin to apologize for being a cock and thank him for the opportunity) and perhaps a little gift for the office, but in the end it will just be a story to tell his theoretical grandchildren, and that’s all.

Arthur’s life never goes to plan.

Merlin stares at the table in the green room, completely disarmed. “He sent a bouquet of finger puppets,” he manages, mostly because he hopes that if he says it aloud it will make sense.

“One for each of the senior staff,” Gwen confirms, patting him gently on the shoulder. “And two cards. One of them is just for you.”

“Why is one of them just for me? He doesn’t like me!” The puppets have nothing to do with the show, which is why it’s so baffling that they’re rather perfect, all propped up in a pretty vase on what look like plastic kitchen straws, with Gwen’s word that they arrived that way, delivered by a personal messenger service with a return address that must be Pendragon’s flat.

Lancelot, sitting at the table with his morning coffee, stops grinning at the T. rex in a top hat that is definitely the puppet intended for him to grin at Merlin instead. “We’ve opened the other card, which is for the rest of us, where he thanked us for allowing him on the show and being patient and such.”

“That doesn’t leave much to say to me.” A cat with butterfly wings for Freya, a brightly colored fish for Elyan (and how the hell could he possibly guess Elyan has an aquarium full of tropical fish at home), a pretty brown mouse dressed up as a queen for Gwen, and for Merlin … “A turtle,” says Merlin, baffled, because it’s got nothing to do with him or the show or anything but still happens to be one of his favorite animals. “He’s got spies.”

“Or he guesses well. Open your card,” urges Gwen, putting a cream envelope into his hands.

The card is a simple black-and-white picture of a vase of flowers with the words “Thank You” in a fancy script, and Merlin opens it up assuming he’ll find nothing more than a repetition of the sentiment and a signature inside to discover that it’s covered in densely written, neat handwriting. “What?” he says, and then prods Gwen out of the way with an elbow when she tries to look over his shoulder.

Merlin, the inside says. I wanted to write to you personally to thank you for allowing me on the show. I understand that were reluctant to have me, given my father and his politics, and I imagine after the way I acted your mind was not changed. Rest assured, though, that it was a pleasure to work with you—all of you—and that I am a huge fan of the show (and not just saying that). Best of luck with future episodes. –Arthur PS I hope you like the puppet—the turtle is yours, in case you didn’t know. Call it a token of my gratitude, if you will. Or get rid of it, it’s not as though I’ll know to be offended.

“What?” he says again, completely wrong-footed.

“Oh, you opened the card?” asks Freya from behind him. Merlin gives up and surrenders the card for general inspection, because he has no idea what to do with Arthur being apologetic and sort of adorably awkward. Gwen coos and Lancelot hides a smile and Merlin can only be glad that Elyan is fixing one of the pulleys that got messed up in the studio because his reaction is bound to be awful. Freya’s the one who speaks again once she’s read it, though. “That’s rather adorable. What are you going to do?”

“Send a note thanking him for the turtle, probably.” Freya and Gwen frown at him, which means he’s said something wrong, but he can’t think what. Well, he can, probably he’s meant to do more, but he doesn’t really know what else there is to do. “Seriously, you guys, we’ve got work to do, and whatever you’re thinking, you should stop thinking it.”

Gwen grins. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about,” she says, but then she drops the subject and picks all the puppets but Elyan’s off the bouquet and tosses them to the right people. “Now, we should get some work done, talk about some upcoming scripts.”

“Right, that’s right, I’ve got news for you all!” Freya says, pointing around with the cat on her finger. Merlin hides a smile behind his hand. “I got a call last night about a part, so I'm going to get to spend a few weeks in a lavish manor house being uncomfortably corseted and playing the younger sister of the main character of a film.”

Merlin hugs her, since he’s closest, and Gwen and Lancelot join in once they’ve scrambled to their feet. “That’s great, congratulations,” he says into her hair. “One of these days you’re going to get into Hollywood and leave us behind, and what are we going to do around here without you to write our songs and keep half the audience wanting to be you when they grow up?”

“I’ll just never leave, that sounds like a solution. We’ll spend the next twenty years making this show and then retire rich and fabulous. Unless I’m offered the role of James Bond, then I’ll be abandoning you immediately.” She shoves them off and settles down at the table while she continues. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we’ll need some scripts that don’t need me, or only need me during the puppet parts so we can get ahead on filming those.”

“We’ll come up with something,” Gwen assures her, then bites her lip, considering something.

Lancelot speaks up, probably using their disgusting couple telepathy to figure out what she’s thinking. “It’s been a while since we did a serious episode. Freya’s absence could give us an opportunity. Maybe she could be ill—”

“We did that, though,” says Merlin. “Not seriously, I admit, but I’m meant to be the physician’s apprentice, aren’t I? The ill thing doesn’t make sense.”

Freya shrugs. “I could just be off out of town visiting someone, or, I don’t know, locked in a tower or something. No, I don’t like being the damsel in distress, don’t lock me in a tower. I like the out-of-town excuse.”

“A serious episode isn’t a bad idea, though,” says Gwen. “They always go over really well, we could even have something that goes over a couple of days—I know you don’t like having lasting plotlines, Merlin, but our audience is really consistent day-to-day and we can always catch them up on things. Something goes wrong that could only happen because Freya is gone, and you’ve got to fix it …”

Merlin nods, thinking it over. He likes doing the serious episodes—it’s important for the kids to know how to handle some important issues in a way that won’t overwhelm them, and he knows the first one they did, when he’d been in a bike accident and had three broken ribs and was too stoned on painkillers to act and they’d had him thrown into the dungeon for having fun until Freya saved him, is one of the episodes that made them as popular as they are. “Something like what, though? Other kids’ shows have done the death of a family member or pet, I don’t want to step on any toes.”

“Someone should find out about the magic,” says Lancelot after a moment’s deliberation. “Not the king, obviously, we don’t want you thrown in prison again, but someone who trusted you and didn’t think you were keeping secrets. We can do the whole lesson on how even when secrets are necessary they can still hurt people when they come out.”

“Oh, I like it,” says Freya, breaking out into smiles. “I’ve even got a song I’m halfway through writing that would be great as the resolution of the arc.”

Actually, it’s a really good idea—he’s sometimes uncomfortable with the fact that the show he’s supposed to be setting a good example to children with has him playing someone who lies all the time, and this would be a good way to get that issue out in the open and talked about. The only problem is … “Well, who exactly would find out? Freya already knows and she’s gone, it can’t be the king or queen, and it wouldn’t matter much if they were any of our regular puppet characters, we don’t have other regular guests …”

Gwen looks at the straws in the vase and Elyan’s lone fish finger puppet. “Well, we would have to use someone the kids would recognize from recently, then. And ratings were really good on Arthur Pendragon’s episode …”

“Oh, no.” Merlin looks down at the turtle he’s been absently fiddling with and wishes for a quick and painless death. “Oh, this is not going to end well.”

As luck would have it, Arthur gets the note, the e-mail, and the phone call all within an hour of each other.

The note comes first, with the morning post in the office, and it takes him a moment to see that someone (probably Elena, because she wanders into his office sometimes and she is incorrigibly nosy) circled the sender’s name in red pen. Since it’s from Merlin Emrys, that makes sense, and he rips the envelope open expecting a terse note of thanks for appearing on the show and sending his stupid little gift to the station. Thank you for the turtle, it will fit in with my collection of far better-made puppets which are not turtles, or It was a pleasure to have you on the show, please don’t come back. Instead, it’s You must have spies in our studio, turtles are actually my favorite animal. Thanks for the puppets and for coming on the show, seems by response that it went really well. Hope you haven’t had too much grief over it. Gwen might call you soon, don’t feel pressured, okay?

Arthur has no idea what the hell that means. Or perhaps it doesn’t mean anything, despite a possibly-ominous call from Gwen (which will probably end up going through Morgana somehow, these things always do). He’d never admit it out loud, but he does have a tendency to read into things more than he ought. Either way, there’s nothing he can do about it, so he sets it down to deal with later and goes about his business.

About half an hour later, he refreshes his e-mail on a break, and there, in the midst of all the other business (half of which is really someone else’s problem but which gets sent to him nonetheless because he’s the most visible professor in his department by dint of his father’s position) and the very important-looking e-mail from Gwaine that probably actually contains pictures of cats or porn, there’s a message from his father’s assistant, Catrina.

He knows it’s a bad idea to open it, especially with the subject “Re: Public Appearances” slapped on it. Catrina only sends him messages when his father is too angry with him to speak to him personally or when she’s ordering his presence at one benefit or another, and this is almost certainly the former situation rather than the latter. However, he’ll have to read it sometime, and if he reads it this early in the day chances are larger that something will happen later on to counteract the foul mood that is certain to result.

Catrina’s message, as always, is concise, to the point, and does a very bad job of concealing her disdain for him. Mr. Pendragon: the PM requests that in future you refrain from television appearances outside of respected news shows. While your politics differ, I am certain you can understand his position on the matter and what it looks like for his son to appear on children’s television. It’s not awful, not really. Not compared to the one he received last year telling him that theoretical bisexuality was bad enough but demonstrated bisexuality at a national event was quite another, or the one he got the first time he publicly disputed one of his father’s policies. Still, it makes him feel like a child, like he isn’t worth a phone call from his father, and he grits his teeth and sends back As I am not a member of the government and his policies have no bearing on my career, I feel no need to toe the party line, which is as polite as he can force himself to be.

Arthur spends three minutes using the deep breathing techniques one of his babysitters taught him when she decided he was too high-strung for a ten-year-old. That done (and having received several alarmed looks from everyone who happens to walk by and glance through his office window), he deletes the e-mail from his inbox and then from his trash, since printing it out just to put it through the shredder and set the pieces on fire seems excessive. Instead, he sets about ignoring the whole situation and gets to work, which lasts for a quarter hour, at which point his phone rings.

Half the time, when his office phone rings, it’s Morgana trying to take him by surprise or someone else in the department too lazy to get up to invite him to lunch. His bet’s on Percival, since they haven’t met up in a while and Percy’s just back from a conference in Italy, so he picks up hoping it’ll put him in a better mood. “Hello, this is Arthur Pendragon.”

“Oh, good, hi.” There’s a pause. “I looked up your office number, I thought I ought to go to you directly instead of asking Morgana. Oh, sorry, this is Gwen! Gwen from Merlin’s Castle.”

He rests his forehead on his hand and wonders if he can get a do-over on his morning. “Hi, Gwen. Can I do something for you?” Hopefully it’s just a call thanking him for the stupid finger-puppets (he really should have gone with flowers, but then he was online and couldn’t help himself).

It’s really not his day. “I’m hoping you can, actually. Of course it’s fine if you can’t, but Morgana said she thought you would be interested when you left last time and I didn’t think it would come up but then it did. Basically, we want you to come back for two episodes, to be filmed in a few weeks—and don’t worry, your parts in them can be filmed in one day, although there’s also a song we’ll have to find time for you to record, once Freya is finished with it.”

“I’m flattered, but I’m sure there are other people who would do a much better job with whatever it is you’d like me to help with—I was just a replacement in the first place, after all.” Arthur winces and wonders if he could sound any more like a sulking fifteen-year-old. Perhaps if he stamped his foot and said life isn’t fair.

“Numbers and reactions to the episode were so good, though! And Freya’s going to be off filming elsewhere for a bit so we wanted a gap-filler and we came up with a few episodes that we think would be perfect for you, a little mini-story.” She pauses. “Unless that was you trying to blow me off.”

If he were smart, he would say no. Sometimes it’s best to take the path of least resistance with his father, especially when there’s a lot of scrutiny on him. However, he did have a good time for all the awkwardness the first time he was on the show, and strong as the impulse to let his father’s current storm of temper pass is, the urge to defy him is just that bit stronger. The worst that will happen is a few silent and awkward Sunday dinners, and he already avoids those whenever he can. “Mini-story?” he asks. “My impression is that you don’t do multi-episode plots.”

“We talked Merlin into it,” Gwen explains, and that brings up a million questions about whether Merlin knows they’re asking Arthur to be part of their first multi-episode plot, and what he thinks if he does, and Arthur revises his estimate of his own mental age to twelve. “Our audience is pretty consistent, and there are ways of making sure it all makes sense day to day. Anyway, we decided it was about time for a serious episode.”

Arthur is already making a pact with himself to forget the fact that this is what tips his answer over to “yes.” The first serious episode aired about two weeks after Arthur started watching the show, and he’s looked forward to their unpredictable appearances ever since. Most children’s shows, he’s discovered, tend to use the death of a family member or pet as the only serious subject to discuss—or divorce of parents, if they’re terribly progressive. Merlin’s Castle has done Merlin being imprisoned (with the accompanying message that sometimes it’s right to fight authority, which might be part of the reason his father has singled it out as a harm to society and children), bullied by a visiting knight (probably another reason for Uther to hate it, he’s of the old-fashioned school of thinking bullying a right and normal part of childhood and not something that requires mollycoddling), and Freya and Merlin having a terrible fight and needing to make up, and done them all well. “What sort of serious episode?” he asks, mostly for form’s sake.

“We get a lot of parents being concerned that the show is telling their kids that it’s okay to lie, since Merlin’s hiding what he can do all the time, so we thought we would address it—have you come back, stumble on Merlin doing magic, have a huge fight about him lying, eventually come to the conclusion that it’s okay if you aren’t hurting anyone and if you’ll be in danger otherwise, that sort of thing, have you make up and go back off on a quest.” Gwen pauses. “If you say yes, that is. We think it’ll be a really important episode.”

Arthur looks at his e-mail and thinks of his father’s likely response, and then he looks at Merlin’s card with the postscript that makes sense now, and he sighs. “Right. Yes, okay. Mail the scripts and the sheet music to the same place as last time, I’ll do it.”

Merlin spends the first several days of Freya’s time away filming puppet scenes and new filler bits and even manages to take a trip and a camera crew to see a joust and a sword fight at a history fair, where he gets to interview a few people about what they do to splice into the show at some point (and ends up signing autographs for nearly every child he runs across, of course). He knows Pendragon is coming in soon, but the only time he acknowledges it is when he goes into the recording studio to do a proper recording of the song Freya wrote and has to listen to his part, done back on Monday afternoon while Merlin was out of the building. It’s a nice song, one of Freya’s best, but parts of it feel uncomfortably like a love song and singing it opposite Pendragon, or at least his disembodied voice, is odd.

Mostly it’s Gwen’s hopeful smiles that make Merlin determined to be bright and cheerful and not just civil when he walks into makeup on Thursday morning to find Pendragon already in the chair. For all they’ve exchanged notes (and the finger puppet), he’s not sure they’ll do much better in the same room. “Have a good trip over?” he inquires, starting on safe ground as he makes a point of peering in one of the mirrors and adjusting his neck scarf.

Pendragon sounds startled when he answers. “Yes, it was fine. You’ve given me an excuse to take a few personal days so I was enjoying the thought of having a long weekend while all my colleagues have to keep beating knowledge into the students.”

“Now I feel bad, don’t you have somewhere more interesting to go on your personal days than here? Though I suppose you’ve got tomorrow actually to yourself, unless something goes horribly wrong today and we have to beg you to come back.”

There’s a pause while Merlin continues looking everywhere but at Pendragon. He has it down to a science by now. “Not really, no.” He sounds horribly uncomfortable, and Merlin twists just enough to wince an apology for he-doesn’t-know-what. Pendragon barely nods his acknowledgment and forges on while Mary finishes fussing over his makeup. “Morgana sends her regrets, she’s working today, doing whatever she does.”

Merlin is definitely feeling the lack of the more social part of Pendragon’s entourage, but it’s a conversation topic, so he jerks his head at the door. “Your bodyguard is back, though. Gwaine, right?” And Gwaine seems nice, but Merlin is definitely glad that Freya is gone while he’s here, because she still goes all awkward every time he’s mentioned.

“Right. He’s not really necessary, as it’s not as though I have a lot of enemies even if my father does, but he’s good company, so I’m certainly not going to tell my father to stop employing him.” That has the sound of being something he says often, and even brings on the longest smile Merlin’s seen him keep off-camera.

Talking about the bodyguard is a yes, then. That’s good to know, even if it’s sort of maddening that he doesn’t know the whole story about him and Freya. “He seems a good sort, yeah. I don’t suppose he’d like to dress up as a knight as well?”

Pendragon arches an eyebrow. “Trying to replace me at the last moment? I worked hard to memorize all those lines, not to mention that song.”

There’s a thread of too-serious in there that makes Merlin pity him even though he really doesn’t want to; it would be way more convenient to keep disliking the man, especially since he suspects liking him would lead to an embarrassing crush. He manages to just shrug and grin and take the makeup chair when Mary ejects Pendragon from it and gestures him in with a wink. “Nah, just figured that it can never hurt to have some extra eye candy around for all the mothers and nannies who end up watching with their kids.”

That wins him a startled laugh. “I suppose you’re right, there. He might even know how to use a sword, you never know with those special ops sorts. Even I did fencing at school.”

Merlin smiles, relieved. He can do this. They can do this, without people around to buffer them, even. “You did? That’s amazing, I wish I’d known before, we could have written it in. I mean, your puppet sword-fights, obviously, but you’ve seen the whole quest storyline in the script even if they aren’t technically your lines, I guess.”

“I’d meant to say, your impression of me isn’t half bad. Or of how I would sound as a puppet, I suppose.”

Mary whacks Merlin’s shoulder so he stops grinning, and he does his best to look contrite and answer without moving his face at all. “I got pretty good at doing impressions when I started doing all the puppets. I had to. Glad you aren’t about to sue me for defamation or something.”

“I don’t have a particularly litigious nature. Probably courtesy of hearing my father threaten to sue everyone who looked at him cross-eyed, with the added help of knowing that whatever people have said about me, Morgana’s probably said worse.”

Merlin lets out a startled laugh, saved from a makeup disaster only by Mary’s quick hand. When he opens his eyes, Pendragon—and he really should call him Arthur—is smiling, more to himself than at Merlin. “Isn’t she supposed to be on your side?”

Pendragon arches his eyebrows. “She tells me insulting me is for my own good. To keep me humble and all.” Merlin laughs again and then gives Mary an alarmed look, since the last time she got upset with him she made him up like a porcelain doll and his mother called him to ask why he looked like “one of those anime characters” when that day’s episode aired. Mary just snorts and goes about putting her equipment away, apparently finished. “Precisely,” says Pendragon.

Gwen comes in and interrupts before the silence can stretch and get awkward, and Merlin knows himself well enough to know that he’s disappointed and promptly tries to forget it because Freya isn’t around to make things better today and he needs to just forge on as normal. “Are you two ready in here? Mary, are they?” Mary laughs and shoos them out, so Gwen starts prodding them down the hall. “We don’t film out of order around here, Arthur, except with the puppets, so it’ll just be in the order that your script has it in—we’ll start with the end of the episode before your two main ones, when you walk in on Merlin doing the magic for the end of the show, then move on to the full episodes.”

Merlin falls behind in the hall, since he knows the morning brief practically by heart by now. Pendragon looks over his shoulder once with an expression Merlin can’t quite parse before turning back to Gwen and chatting about the script and the song and everything else she has to go over. Gwaine falls into step as they walk, first behind Merlin, and then next to him with a friendly smile when Merlin looks at him askance.

Lance and Elyan are conferring about lighting when they get into the studio, but they break off to greet Arthur and Gwaine and to get their morning gentle scolding from Gwen. Once they’ve all squared themselves away, they get down to business, since even though the puppet parts of the episodes are done, they’re real-action heavy by necessity and it’ll take all day to do them.

The first scene is going to be the worst one, even if it’s short and doesn’t even start the arguments. Arthur seems to think so too, jaw going tight when Lance tells them to take their marks and Elyan goes to man the controls for Kilgharrah. Merlin shrugs and smiles as sympathetically as he can, because he knows the serious episodes are important and that it’s important to make them realistic, but he’s in children’s television to make people happy and this isn’t going to make anyone smile.

Still, it’s going to be good, so he takes his mark and when Lance calls action he starts chattering away, Kilgharrah flying around “helping” him as he goes, talking merrily about the end of the party they had to see Freya off to visit her parents in the next kingdom and doing magic to clean the room up, like he often does at the end of an episode. “I still can’t believe that even the King said goodbye to her,” Merlin says to Kilgharrah with the air of imparting a great secret, and that’s Arthur’s cue.

Sure enough, he bangs the door open right on time, singing out Merlin’s name and half of a “Guess who” before he stops in the middle of the word. Merlin freezes for a second and turns halfway, just far enough that he can see Arthur without turning his back to the camera. Arthur doesn’t look stunned and horrified so much as utterly blank, which is somehow more awful, and Merlin doesn’t have to pretend very hard to cringe back from him, because suddenly all he can think is I don’t want him to look at me like that ever again. “You’re magic,” Arthur says flatly, not a question like it is in the script, and Merlin nods, mute. Arthur slams his way back out of the room without another word and Merlin sits down in a conveniently placed chair and reaches out for Kilgharrah when Elyan flies him over.

“Cut,” says Lance, and Merlin breathes out, shaking off the scene and putting everything else aside. Arthur cracks the set door open and makes a face that he can only interpret as an apology, and Lance looks at them both, frowning a bit. Merlin shakes his head briefly and tells himself to deal with whatever-the-fuck-that-was later, and Lance seems to understand, because he speaks again. “Well, we can’t do much better than that. I guess we should move on.”

Arthur’s second day of filming Merlin’s Castle goes much better than his first, much to his surprise. He swore to Morgana and Elena (who is getting scarily invested in this whole thing) separately that he wouldn’t be a twat, but that was no guarantee for everything to go well. Everything, in fact, seemed lined up to make his life difficult when he got there that morning: the only buffer between him and all the near-strangers he had to charm was Gwaine, who normally is quite enough buffer on his own but who’s got something on his mind, absent-minded and quiet and jumpier than usual, and Merlin managed to walk in looking more attractive than the last time, which Arthur was really hoping was impossible.

That’s why it’s rather a shock when everything goes well. He’ll never make a professional actor, but they get through the scripts, dialogue-heavy as they are, at a good clip, and in between Arthur makes conversation as best as he can with whoever’s closest. Merlin, after they start filming, seems to clam up, but after Arthur mentions hesitantly that he’s quite glad Merlin liked the stupid turtle, he rolls his eyes at nothing in particular and stops being stand-offish. Gwen, Lancelot, and Elyan all seem to like Arthur better now that Merlin seems to like Arthur better, so the whole day is remarkably pleasant.

It’s eight at night before they finish, and they took a break for lunch but didn’t for dinner because they were in the midst of technical issues around the song and got behind for a while because one of Kilgharrah’s lines snapped, so it feels entirely natural to turn to the weary group finding their jackets and suggest going out for dinner. “My shout, nowhere fancy, just to thank you for giving me the opportunity.”

“Really, we should be thanking you,” says Gwen, winding a scarf around her neck. “You filled in when we were in a tight spot twice now, and you’ve been an absolute star about it.”

“Good to know I have a career to fall back on if this silly academia thing doesn’t work out.” He looks around at all four of them, trying to gauge their responses, and ignores Gwaine’s curious noise when he lingers on Merlin. If Gwaine’s going to be distracted and keep secrets, Arthur certainly isn’t going to confide in him either. “Really, anyone want dinner? Otherwise I’ll just go home and warm up an instant meal in the microwave.”

This time, Gwaine snorts and enters the conversation, apparently giving up on whatever it was that had him pensive all day. “Like you’ve had an instant meal anytime in the last five years, princess. He’s a food snob.”

Arthur sighs. “If you must know, I have containers of leftovers from meals that have gone well and I warm them up if I want something quick.”

“We would do dinner, but it’s been a long day,” says Lance after exchanging a quick look with Gwen. “We’ll definitely keep in touch about when the show is airing and if we need another guest star sometime. You two were great on camera today, it’s going to be a really good couple of episodes.”

“I hope so.” Arthur turns to Merlin and Elyan. “Either of the two of you?”

“Knackered, sorry,” says Elyan, but actually claps Arthur and Gwaine on the back in turns. “I’ll call you about that pickup game of footie I mentioned earlier, though, yeah? We’ll go to the park one of these weeks.”

Merlin makes a face Arthur doesn’t quite understand at his friends as they all start walking out of the building, waving at the doorman on the way, but he smiles when Arthur raises an inquiring eyebrow. “I’ve got work yet to do tonight, sorry. It was good to see you though, Arthur. Thanks for saving our necks.”

“Honestly, it was my pleasure,” says Arthur, and knows Merlin doesn’t believe him even as he says it. He scrambles for something to say that’s complimentary that Merlin will actually believe. “I hope that my being there instead of Freya wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

That wins another smile from him, and Arthur ignores the way Gwaine shifts behind him, probably hiding a grin. “You were fine, I promise. If we ever need another series regular, I’m sure Gwen’s got you at the top of the list. All we have to do is get you to quit that rubbish job of yours.”

“Won’t take much, children’s television is about my speed these days. Somehow it feels rather more rewarding than trying to publish or lecturing at teenagers who would rather be out at the pub for the most part.” He coughs when that just makes Merlin raise his eyebrows. “Anyway, ought to let you get back to work, sorry to keep you.” He’s got a cab to call and Merlin, it seems, is walking. Arthur doesn’t dare offer him a ride, just gives him half a wave and turns to head down the pavement.

“Pen—Arthur,” Merlin says, before he can get far, and Arthur looks over his shoulder, hiding his wince at Merlin calling him by his last name. “Thanks again. For the turtle, yeah? It was really nice to get.”

“Cheers,” Arthur manages, and flees before Merlin can say anything else to embarrass him, Gwaine at his heels after he and Merlin say their goodbyes.

Gwaine lets all of twenty-three seconds (Arthur counts) pass before he can’t contain himself anymore. “Mate, that was pretty pathetic.”

“God, shut up.”

“Seriously, I’ve seen you pick up minor royalty in under five minutes. You made the Swiss ambassador’s son blush. You’ve dated models. For a professor, you date rather like James Bond. This is a bit of a difference, is all I’m saying.”

Arthur groans. “I’m firing you. Without a reference. I’ll tell my father you got drunk on the job and you’ll never work again.”

Because Arthur’s life isn’t fair and of course Gwaine knows him better than that, that just gets him a laugh. “You’d never, that means you’d have to talk to him aside from small talk at dinner, and besides, Morgana would kill you. I’m the only bodyguard you would put up with. Now, care to tell me why you spent the whole day mooning over a certain wizard?”

“Care to tell me why you looked like someone kicked your favorite puppy all day?” Gwaine laughs again, but softer, and shakes his head. “Fine, then, we’ll both stop prying and everything will be much better for it.”

“I’ll leave you alone, but I can’t promise Morgana will do the same when the show finally airs,” says Gwaine. “Now, are you going to offer to take me out to dinner like a nice boss or were you just trying to get into Merlin’s—”

“If you say pants—”

“—good graces?” Gwaine finishes smoothly, making Arthur roll his eyes as they get to the car.

“Fine, dinner it is, but only if you promise to shut up and eat.”

Freya comes back to the studio after her filming looking refreshed and pleased with herself, and Merlin doesn’t think he’s been so glad to see her in his life. “How was it?” he asks across the table—they’re writing scripts this week instead of filming, a much-needed break in their schedule and a good way of getting ahead.

“The corset was shockingly not terrible, and the subplot I got was fun, if cliche. Glad to be back here, though, those big budgets mean filming is way less efficient.”

“Is that all we get about it?” Elyan asks.

Freya grins. “You’ll just have to watch, won’t you? Now, how was it with Pendragon here? Hugely awkward again?”

Merlin groans and lets Gwen field that question. “It wasn’t too bad, actually. Sefa in editing says the episodes are coming together well, the higher-ups seem pretty excited about it, they’re already wondering if we can get Arthur to show up the next time we do a live event. Sort of a surprise guest for the kids, you know?”

“I’m going to have nothing to do with it,” Merlin declares, even though the thought of stiff-as-a-board Arthur dealing with a bunch of small children is sort of a hilarious one.

Lance looks thoughtful. Not that that’s anything new. “His term should be finishing up soon, if he’s willing grabbing him for a few summer events wouldn’t be a half bad idea. There’s that Renaissance Faire that we’re going to entertain kids at, he could turn up, do a bit of a nature walk if there’s interest.”

It’s a good idea. Damn it. Elyan rescues Merlin from having to admit that, at least, which is why Elyan is his favorite. “We’ll have to ask him about it. Gwen, put that on your list?”

“Done. If we have the budget, obviously.” She pats Merlin on the arm even though he’s doing his level best to look as enthused as he would if they were upping their interaction with any other guest. It’s not that Arthur was so bad, that second day of filming, but he’d rather not give things the chance to get worse again. Arthur’s still the very-conservative PM’s son, even if he doesn’t seem to share his father’s views.

Merlin manages to avoid mention of Arthur for the rest of the work day while they outline any number of episodes and divvy up who is writing which ones (though there’s almost never an episode that all of them don’t contribute to in some fashion). Lancelot looks worried about him, but Lancelot also generally lets him at least try to sort himself out before wading in to ask what’s the matter.

Freya grabs his arm when they’re all packing their bags up to leave. “You’re coming back to mine,” she says.

“That was not an invitation,” he points out, mostly just for the sake of pointing it out. If she wants him to come over, he’s not going to say no. She’s one of his best friends, and he suspects she’s got something to say about either Gwaine or Arthur and that she won’t let him be until she’s said it.

They’re quiet on the walk—she lives close to the studio, so it’s easy enough to fall into step and occasionally mention something inane while they get there. Even once they’re inside, she seems hesitant to bring anything up, fussing with the kettle and getting some water boiling on the stove for pasta. “It’s stupid,” she says once there’s no more procrastinating.

“He looked like he missed you.” It must be about Gwaine, if she’s this hesitant. If she were asking him or telling him something about Arthur, she would just do it.

“God, don’t tell me that, it’s the stupidest situation, he’s still never mentioned it, for all I know he still doesn’t know we’ve slept together and I’m just his type or something.”

Merlin doesn’t quite know what to say to that, since Gwaine never mentioned it to them, never mentioned Freya to them, but he does know that he looked thoughtful all day, and like he might have been looking out for her even though he knew in advance she wouldn’t be there. “I think he’s a better man than that,” he offers.

“You, defending someone who voluntarily spends time with Arthur Pendragon? Will wonders never cease?”

He tries his best at a smile. “Well, I think the PM hired him, so technically he isn’t voluntarily spending his time. That raises him a notch in my eyes.” That logic doesn’t stand up to anything at all, since it means he trusts the PM’s judgment over Arthur’s, which he has to admit isn’t true, but Freya smiles like she knows what he means anyway. “He’s really knocked you for a loop, hasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid so. Just got under my skin, or one of those other stupid phrases. I hadn’t even thought of him in ages, and then he walked through the studio door, and I’ve felt as though I’m going mad ever since.”

“I know what you mean, though admittedly in a different way.”

She slides an arm around his waist and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you’ve got to keep dealing with him. He doesn’t seem all bad, but you two do rub each other the wrong way, and it seems like the company wants to wring everything out of him that they can. Maybe they’re intending to segue into giving him his own show. Bill Nye with a more naturalist slant, and possibly chain mail.”

“Every male-attracted person in Britain and a great many on the internet would probably sell their souls to see him strutting about in chain mail talking about the birds of the British Isles,” Merlin is forced to admit. “I probably would myself.”

Freya laughs. “We’re quite a pair, aren’t we?”

Merlin squeezes an arm around her shoulder and then lets go to start getting out dishes to set the table with. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

Arthur fast-forwards through most of his scenes on his next episodes of Merlin’s Castle when they air, and avoids the people in his department who want to ask questions or tease about them. Morgana and Gwaine both try but stop after only a little while, and everyone else has the sense to skirt around the discussion after the first day.

It isn’t that they’re bad episodes, or he thinks he did badly, or anything else stupid like that, even though he’s aware it’s what everyone else assumes. It’s more that he takes one look at the stunned hurt on Merlin’s face in the clip at the end of the episode before his first proper one and doesn’t think he can stand two episodes of it, not on top of his own blustering around. So he fast-forwards, and texts Elena or Gwaine every time he thinks about texting someone from the show instead.

Gwaine teases him a little, and Elena teases him a lot, and the fact that it's usually the other way around tells him a lot about how obvious he's been around Gwaine about his stupid crush.

His father calls to talk around scolding him and tell him that if he wants more public exposure it can be arranged, and Catrina sends more displeased e-mails, and his students start humming the song from his episode on occasion, but for the most part, it all subsides within a few days.

Morgana turns up at his door a few days after the episodes air with takeaway. “I was going to cook something tonight,” Arthur says, and lets her in anyway.

“I'm sure you were, but now you don't have to and the cooking will keep until tomorrow.” Morgana sets everything down on his coffee table and raises her eyebrows. Considering he honestly doesn't know what she's looking for, it's not going to be as effective a technique as it usually is. “Planning on going into a career in acting?”

It's not like he didn't know that this was going to be about Merlin's Castle, but that's certainly an interesting tack to take. “If I ever want Father to die instantly so he can turn in his grave, I suppose it's an option I could take, but I got a very advanced degree in biology for a reason, you know.”

“I can be forgiven wondering. It's just that I figured the eyelash-batting you were doing on screen in Merlin's direction was you suddenly becoming a very good actor. If it's not ...”

“You are by far my last favorite sibling.”

Morgana laughs and goes to his kitchen, getting out forks and starting to fill their cups with water. Arthur goes with her and pours them both some wine, because he thinks he's going to need it. She's smiling at him now, and it seems distressingly sincere. “Come on, I think it's lovely. Merlin is lovely. And if that ridiculous behavior of yours the first time you filmed with them was pigtail-pulling, everything makes much more sense.”

“I'm sure I could get a visiting professorship in New Zealand or something. You wouldn't come to New Zealand, would you?”

“Of course I would, you'd pine without me.” Morgana takes her wine glass and her water glass and retreats to his couch and his coffee table. Arthur sighs and follows. “I don't know why you're being evasive. I approve.”

“Yes, I care so much if you approve anyone I may happen to want to take on a date.” Arthur tries to cobble together an explanation that doesn't involve his really embarrassing celebrity crush and the ways Merlin is different in reality that don't make him any less appealing. “If you brought food hoping that I would unburden all my hopes and dreams onto you, you're going to be very disappointed.”

“Mostly I brought food hoping to eat,” Morgana says, which is a blatant lie. Arthur starts sorting through the containers of takeaway. Italian, looks like. She could have made worse choices for certain. “So you deny mooning over him on camera?”

“I had to make eye contact with him because we were fighting on camera, and I'm a bad actor, so maybe it looked like mooning.”

She purses her lips. “Seriously. Just tell me if you're interested. I'm not going to tease.”

That might not be a lie, which is somehow even more horrifying. “A bit,” he admits, and looks away from her victorious grin to attempt to figure out how to east some pasta without dropping sauce all over his couch. “But between Father and first impressions, I think it's wiser to let that pass.”

Morgana leans her head against his shoulder and steals a bite of his pasta. “You don't have to let Father run your life, you know. Especially since I devoutly hope the party's being voted out next election. It's not the end of the world to have feelings for a kind, smart man who can keep up with you.”

“You're being nice and it's alarming.”

She ruffles his hair and sits up to eat. “You're being noble instead of moping obviously, so I'm changing strategies. And since Gwaine's busy having a romantic crisis and Leon's away and the rest of your department is useless on this front except for Mithian, who deserves better than your bullshit, I have to be the one to sort you out.”

“Wait, Gwaine's busy what?”

Morgana raises her eyebrows at him. “How did you miss that one? Some sort of soap opera thing involving him fucking Freya and giving me five minutes of emotionally pornographic details before saying she snuck out in the morning and asking me if I thought it was creepy if he wanted to ask her out, since it's been a few years.”

“What? How do you know this and not me?” Arthur frowns at his phone, which doesn't magically light up with a text from Gwaine telling him exactly that. “I would think I could be trusted.”

“Maybe, but you were in the middle of some kind of Merlin-related romantic crisis of your own, and also I think you would have encouraged him to mope in silence like you. I, on the other hand, encouraged him to action.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “Is he actually taking action?”

Morgana frowns and sits up in order to start eating her own meal. “Not yet. But I live in hope. One of you will have to get your head out of your ass eventually. While I'd rather it be you, Gwaine is an acceptable substitute.”

Arthur muses that over through the rest of dinner, while she needles him and then graciously allows herself to be needled in turn about the date she went on last week (a disaster) and one she has scheduled upcoming (promising, but given her history likely to end in disaster) before kissing him on the cheek, telling him not to be a coward, and leaving him to do all the dishes.

He's still not sure, after all the thinking, that he wants to date Merlin enough to fight that battle with his father, ridiculous celebrity crush notwithstanding, but at the very least he can keep it in his mind, especially if Gwaine does ask Freya about and by necessity they end up spending more time together.

He's still thinking about it, in fact, the next morning, when his phone rings with a number he doesn't recognize. “Arthur Pendragon here.”

“Hello, it's Merlin,” says Merlin, and Arthur spends a moment wondering if Morgana, the traitor, passed on his contact information, before realizing that probably it was on some of the paperwork he filled out for the show. “Is this a good time?”

“Sure, I just got to work but I don't have anything going for the next twenty minutes or so. Don't tell me that you're recruiting me for another episode so soon?”

“No, although the network has made some noises about it. Actually, I'm calling to ask if you'd be willing to do an event with us? We've got the budget and we think the kids would really enjoy seeing you, and it should be after your term is over.”

More time with Merlin could at least let Arthur figure out whether he's ever going to be able to have a conversation with him without seeming like a complete bastard, but that might not be the best reason to sign on for a day of doing God knows what. “What kind of event?”

“A historical fair—jousts and things, and Freya and I and hopefully you entertaining any children who come. There's a little forest nearby, we thought maybe you could take small groups out, point out some birds and plants and things for them. Nature walk with Sir Arthur and all.”

That sounds completely delightful, damn him. “I'm interested. In armor, I assume?”

“If I have to wear the stupid neckerchief, you have to wear the armor.” Merlin pauses. “Probably Gwaine too, if you're bringing him, otherwise there will be all sorts of questions.”

Gwaine will love that. “Mine is a good deal heavier and hotter than yours,” Arthur points out, but it's a weak protest and they both know it. “Would you mind if Morgana tagged along? You can put her in a maid costume with Freya—please do, in fact—but I bet she'd have fun watching a joust or two, she's bloodthirsty, and I know she likes your friends.”

“I don't think we could pay her, but if she wanted to come along, to spend time or volunteer, she'd be more than welcome.” Merlin clears his throat. “You'll come, then?”

“I need to check my schedule, and I need an actual date, since I'm supposed to spend a bit of time during the term break traveling, but I'll see what I can do. You'll send me the date? I'll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“Sounds great.” There's a moment of awkward silence while Arthur tries to figure out how to end the call, but Merlin continues in a rush before he can. “Look, the serious episodes went really well, you know? Everyone loves them, so seriously, thank you for helping out with them. I'm really glad you ended up on the show with us. Despite the rocky start.”

“I'm sorry for the rocky start,” says Arthur, which he thinks surprises both of them. “I'll be perfectly charming at this event, cross my heart.”

“Don't do that,” says Merlin, and it sounds like he's smiling. “I'm not sure I'd recognize you.”

If Arthur looks ridiculously wonderful and knightly in chain mail under studio lighting, it's all the worse in the bright sunshine of a rare clear summer day.

Gwaine is also handsome in his mail, which is nice for anyone who wants people around to ogle, but Merlin leaves the worrying about Gwaine being handsome to Freya, who's off with Gwen and Elyan getting their tent set up after abandoning Merlin with the costumes they brought from their shop and Arthur and Gwaine. The traitor.

“I like this armor, I have to say,” says Arthur, squinting to the jousting run in the distance, where all the competitors are getting themselves set up and chatting, “but I rather envy the real sets. This one isn't personalized.”

“At this rate you'll have your own personalized armor soon,” Gwaine says, and winks at Merlin.

Merlin winces, because that probably means he got caught staring. “The kids are going to be so excited to see you, Arthur.” He eyes Gwaine. “And their mothers will be happy to see you, anyway.”

Gwaine laughs, delighted, and slings an arm around Merlin's shoulder, which hurts. They might have used the lightest materials possible to make their chain mail, but it still adds some heft. “I'm pretty sure that neither my job as a bodyguard nor my job as a stalwart knight of Merlin's Castle would allow me to make eyes at mothers, but nice to know I'm useful.”

If he flirts with mothers, Freya might have some problems, and Merlin has enough of those on his hands, but he really can't ask Gwaine not to without explaining. “Definitely. And I think Gwen found Morgana a dress somewhere, so everyone should be all kitted out for this.” Merlin glances over at Arthur, who's frowning at Gwaine but switches to a smile when he catches Merlin looking. “Thanks again for doing this, by the way. I know it's not everyone's idea of fun.”

“I'm looking forward to it, really. I don't get to take my students on nature walks, and if they've got any enthusiasm at all for the subject it will be a refreshing change of pace.”

“They've got plenty of enthusiasm about everything, really.” Merlin ducks out from under Gwaine's arm as they get closer to the tent and shakes his shoulders out. “Just treat them like human beings and take them seriously and they'll love you, it's a shamefully easy trick but it's the best one that I've found.”

Arthur nods seriously. He seems to take everything seriously, once he's decided to do it and gotten over any initial dickish tendencies, and Merlin is trying very hard not to find it endearing. “I'll keep it in mind. Is everyone here today?”

“Yup, everyone. Elyan and I have Kilgharrah, Gwen does storytime and crafts, Freya and I switch off with other things to keep the kids entertained, Lance is on logistics, and today we've got you two. If you're confused, just let one of us know, and we'll help you out.”

“Thank you,” says Arthur, and then they're pushing aside the loose wall of the tent and entering a scene of familiar chaos.

Elyan has the pulley system set up and is moving Kilgharrah behind the curtain where he waits except during the times he comes out of hiding, and Gwen and Freya and Morgana are setting up activity tables and merchandise. Morgana is wearing a dress that he thinks the wardrobe department stole from Doctor Who one time when they had an opera singer on as a guest, and she looks up and grins when she sees the three of them. “There you are. Pity you don't get swords.”

“That would not end well,” says Lance, looking up from sending some texts. “Obviously you two will have some time to yourselves today, if you want to go look at the weapons demonstrations and join in. We try to take time off in shifts so we don't get too worn out. The three of you showing up is going to make that much easier, so we're very grateful to all of you.”

Merlin goes over to Elyan to finish getting Kilgharrah set up and then goes over to Freya, who's tuning her guitar. It's not exactly a period instrument, but when they're on the go, they do what they can. “Holding up okay?” he whispers.

She flicks her eyes over at Arthur and Gwaine. “We should not have put him in chain mail,” she whispers right back, and Merlin nods his sympathy before he goes back to work.

The kids start arriving not long after, first in twos and threes with harassed or grateful parents, and then a flood, all of them running between all of them, asking questions and having conversations with him that he's clearly entering into the middle of, and Merlin concentrates on them. Meeting kids is one of the best parts of the job, even if it's better in smaller groups, and everyone knows what they're doing.

Just in time for the first scheduled woods walk, he looks over at Arthur, and finds him being sized up by a little boy half his height. “You're not a knight,” the boy finally pronounces. “I saw you on the news.”

Merlin winces, the same way he always does when a kid catches him shopping for groceries or otherwise out of costume, but Arthur just frowns and nods, considering the statement. “Well,” he finally says, crouching a little, “I am on the news sometimes, but other times—the better times, I'll say—I'm a knight. You're very observant, aren't you? I need observant people on the trip into the woods we're taking, if we're going to see any animals. You'll have to be my squire, with observational skills like that.” Arthur looks around at some of the other children who are collecting around him, in awe. “Do I have other squires here? We all have to be very careful and very quiet, and my friend Sir Gwaine is going to come with us to help make sure of that, but we might see some birds, or some trail sign, and I can definitely show you all some interesting plants.”

Being singled out has clearly won over Arthur's doubter, and the group of kids around him is looking starry-eyed, all of them clamoring over each other about just how quiet they can be. Arthur smiles around at all of them, somehow effortlessly charming, and collects Gwaine and a few parents before leaving with at least half the crowd in the tent.

Merlin takes a deep breath, smiles at Freya when he catches her looking, and gets back to work.

Arthur shows up in twenty minutes, the kids full of enthusiasm about seeing a mushroom and hearing a bird and learning the names of different trees, and collects another crowd to go out again ten minutes later, running his tours like clockwork and, apparently, winning the unending loyalty of every child who goes with him. After his third, he comes back with a girl of about four on his hip, explaining that she tripped on a root and, while uninjured, insisted on being carried back, and Merlin silently asks for mercy. It's really, really not fair that Arthur Pendragon is good with kids.

“You should take a break, drink some water,” he says when Arthur gets close enough. “It's all going well out there?”

“Mostly. Gwaine's had to see off a few adults from the larger festival who decided to play amateur paparazzi.”

Merlin frowns. “We'll speak to the festival organizers about that. Presenters shouldn't be getting harassed.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows at Merlin. “And you aren't harassed at this kind of thing?”

“By adults? Certainly not. And the kids aren't bothering me, it's literally my job to talk to them. They're much less stressful than adults, as a rule.”

“Believe me, I agree.” Arthur frowns across the tent at Morgana, who has managed to enthrall a group of children. Merlin has no idea what she's doing with them, and wonders if maybe he should be worried, but Gwen checks in on her once in a while and seems serene about it all, so probably it's fine. Maybe.

“She's not traumatizing them or anything, right?” Merlin blurts. “She's not reading from any of our books or anything.”

Arthur makes a pained face. “Probably not, but she might be attempting to make embarrassing childhood stories about me true to period. I really don't want to know, though.”

Merlin laughs. “As long as you're okay with it. Take a load off for a few, I think we've got a picture book about the woods somewhere around here, give it a read.”

“I think I shall.” Arthur walks a step away, hesitates, and turns back around. “Would you want to come on the next nature walk, though? You'd get out of this tent, where you are probably eventually going to roast to death, and I think the kids would like it.”

“That sounds … really great, actually.” Kind of dangerously great, but apparently Merlin is living dangerously now. He looks around for rescue, mostly from himself, and catches Elyan's eye. It's probably time for an appearance from Kilgharrah, and that's always a nice distraction. He smiles at Arthur and steps away and into the center of the tent. “Hey, everyone!” Silence is slow and reluctant to fall, since his team is great with kids and they are all in raptures, but it falls eventually. “If we're very quiet, I think I can convince Archimedes to come out. He's a little shy, so you can't try to touch him or he'll run away again, but he might fly a loop around the room for us.”

There are a few moments of utter pandemonium before the quiet begins. Freya sets aside her guitar, Morgana stops whatever she was doing, and Arthur wades into the middle of the kids and sits down on the floor with something of a metallic noise, sitting cross-legged and watching Merlin expectantly. “It's been a while since I saw him,” he says very seriously. Merlin's heart twinges a bit.

Shit. “Well, he'll be happy to see you,” says Merlin, and looks around at all the kids. “Okay, let's be quiet now.” A hush falls across the tent, and Gwen skirts around to the entrance to keep anyone from ruining the mood by coming in too loudly. “Archimedes? You've got some friends here who want to visit you.”

Some rustlings come from the curtain, thanks to Elyan, and the kids are all immediately riveted on the spot, but he doesn't have to appear.

“It's okay,” Merlin calls. “We're allowed to have fun today, since we're in a different kingdom.” He looks around at the kids. “We might need to encourage him. We can't clap and shout, since he's shy, but why don't we try waving our hands, see if that gets his interest? Just make sure you don't wave too big and hit the person next to you.” He gives a big wave at the corner, and the kids all join in in a tumble with only a little too much enthusiasm and no injuries. Arthur, still in the middle of everything, waves along with the rest of them and throws a grin at Merlin when he catches him looking.

Elyan has mercy, so Merlin doesn't have time to dwell on that grin before Kilgharrah appears and the kids all gasp and reach up even though he's quite safely over all over their heads, winging his way over to Merlin. Merlin puts on his brightest smile and starts doing what he does best.

The bit with Kilgharrah at events can't be long, by necessity, so within five minutes he's whisked back behind the curtain over the kids groaning, and Freya collects them all to sing one of her songs about Archimedes from the show to get them over the disappointment before things continue as usual.

Mostly as usual.

“Who wants to go outside and see if we can learn something about the forest?” Arthur calls after reading the picture book about the woods to a small group of interested children, and gets a much larger group cheering. “Merlin promised he'd come along this time.”

Merlin looks over at Gwen and Lance, who both smile, Lance nodding and Gwen making a shooing motion with her hand, and stands up. “It will be nice to stretch my legs, and I'm sure I'll learn something interesting. Come on, everyone who's going! You need to look sharp for Sir Arthur, and make sure to help him catch anything interesting.”

Freya gives him a sympathetic grimace across the room, and Merlin allows himself one flick of his eyes to the ceiling in hopes of rescue before collecting as many of the kids as he can manage and stepping out of the tent.

Arthur is beginning to think that giving nature walks to children might be his calling. Every last one of them is enthralled learning the difference between coniferous and deciduous trees, and learning what plants they definitely shouldn't eat and which ones they theoretically could but still shouldn't without checking with an adult first, and if they happen to spot a bird, or a chipmunk, there's euphoria in the ranks. It's noisy and they make it about twenty meters into the woods with all the stops they make, but it's lovely.

Merlin, shockingly, seems to agree. He likes the kids, of course, Arthur's already gathered that much, but he also seems to be genuinely enjoying Arthur's company, and being told to never eat a mushroom that hasn't been vetted by a forest expert. He mostly stays quiet unless one of the kids asks him a question, wandering along with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.

Gwaine, bringing up the rear, grins and wiggles his eyebrows at Arthur whenever he looks in his direction, but that's a problem to deal with later.

“You're good at this,” Merlin says under his breath when most of the kids have become distracted by a particularly lovely swallowtail butterfly in the near distance.

“Knowing about nature is my job,” Arthur says, and raises his voice. “Nobody leave the path, the butterfly has very important business to be doing.”

“No, I mean with the kids. You're really great with them,” says Merlin, and having left Arthur feeling a bit poleaxed, darts forward to intervene in an incipient fight between a pair of siblings who have taken to shoving each other.

The walk goes quite well, Arthur's distraction considered. He points out the plants he's pinpointed throughout the day, teaches everyone a few species of tree, patiently explains three times that this isn't Nottingham Forest while being impressed with the children for being that interested in the Robin Hood stories, and even catches sight of a hawk flying overhead that a few of the kids are quick enough to catch (though one insists it's a dragon and her mother heaves a sigh like that might not be out of the ordinary. He assures her that considering birds are flying dinosaurs she's not far off, there's just no fire breath that he knows about. She doesn't get it, but Merlin has to stifle a laugh, so it's a win).

When they're back in sight of the tent, Gwaine steps forward, clapping his hands like a schoolteacher, which is new and somewhat worrying. “Hey, everyone, it's a nice day out here and you all seem pretty energetic. Let's all run around the tent three times, and whoever wins gets to pick a song for us to request from Freya when we get back inside, if she's willing.”

The parents all look grateful at the thought of wearing their children out, so Arthur looks at Merlin, who looks bemused but not displeased, so he nods. “Running is very important in training to be a knight, so Sir Gwaine will help you all with that, and if you don't feel like running, maybe you can sit and enjoy the sun for a moment.”

The kids immediately scatter, taking off after Gwaine, who doesn't seem much discomfited by his armor as he jogs away, letting some of them outpace him immediately.

“That was subtle,” says Merlin, and Arthur turns with a wince, ready to apologize, to find him smiling and shaking his head a little.

“I didn't ask him to,” Arthur says. Even if the apology isn't necessary, he wants to start off on that note. “I think he's decided that he's sick of me mooning around.”

Merlin's eyebrows go up, and Arthur wants to sink into the floor, because if Merlin hasn't figured out his stupid crush yet, this conversation is going to be even more mortifying than Gwaine has already forced it to be. “Mooning?”

“Why do you think Gwaine left us alone?”

“I mean, I figured there are some matchmakers among our friends, but also I figured that you aren't all that fond of me?”

Arthur is going to die on the spot, which will be very distressing for the children. “I know, I was such a ...” He looks around. Some of the kids are still too close for comfort. “Jerk,” he settles on. “When we first met, I mean. But it's mostly because I was embarrassed?”

“To be on kids' television? A lot of people are.”

“To admit I was a fan,” he forces himself to say, and is treated to a gape-mouthed stare from Merlin, which he would actually enjoy if this weren't one of the more awkward conversations of his life. “I've watched your show for quite some time—I've seen every episode by now, and certainly had before you called me.”

Merlin's mouth twitches. “And you were embarrassed? That's lovely, actually. Not the embarrassment, but that you watched. Not a lot of adults admit they do, you know? I get looked down on a lot for being an actor on kids' television instead of on some kind of mystery show or something.”

“I stumbled across it when I was sick, and I liked it a lot. Liked you a lot, in fact.” For some reason, that makes Merlin's growing smile flicker, and Arthur hastens to continue. “Look, ask Morgana, I'm terrible with people I have crushes on, but I shouldn't have taken it out on you, especially since it was an awkward celebrity crush.”

“Okay, that's … I'm not completely sure what to do with that. Do you still? Have a crush, I mean?” Merlin winces, and Arthur does admit that it sounds rather juvenile, put that way. “Sorry, it's just that a lot of people think they want to date me and then I get a lot of apologetic conversations about how they just can't think of doing more than some handholding or how it's all just too weird.”

Only thinking about holding Merlin's hand is certainly not his problem, but he thinks all the kids are on their third lap around the tent, so that's not a discussion he's going to have right now. “I know people make all sorts of assumptions about me because of the way I'm well-known, so I knew that my celebrity crush was really not worth mentioning. But then it turned out that I actually like you. So there's that.”

Merlin is opening his mouth to continue, a smile breaking across his face, when one of the kids races up to them, beaming ear to ear. “Mr. Merlin, Sir Arthur, guess what! I won the race and I get to request the song where we all pretend to be scary monsters.”

Merlin gives Arthur one last sidelong look and then bends to meet the boy's eyes. “That song is one of my favorites, so I have to say I'm pretty excited. Come on, how about you and I go in and ask Freya if she'd be willing to get everyone going on it?”

“I'll get everyone else inside or seen off,” Arthur promises, and starts collecting all of the kids back into a mass, taking thanks from parents who are dragging their children away (and getting a few speculative looks in the process, since he doesn't think he and Merlin were particularly subtle) and telling everyone that they're clearly excellent knights in training, far better than Sir Gwaine, who's making a comical point of coming in last and collapsing across an imaginary finish line but then bounces up to his feet with a bright grin.

Gwaine grabs his elbow as the mass starts moving inside. “Have a nice chat?”

“You are interfering and subordinate and I am going to tell Freya you have a wife locked up in your attic so she'll never consider you as an option,” Arthur says under his breath, but considering he's doing a very poor job of keeping his growing hope off of his face, he doesn't think Gwaine takes him seriously.

That's fine. When they come inside, Freya is already striking up the chords to her monster song, and the kids are already preparing to roar and stomp, and Arthur won't mention Gwaine's longing gaze if Gwaine doesn't mention his stupid smile.

Morgana, across the tent and serenely being the only person in it not joining in on the monster song, is smirking in a way that makes it obvious that she shares none of those hesitations, but that's probably fine too. As long as he talks to Merlin before she does, nothing should turn out too poorly.

The children's entertainment shuts down an hour before the festival ends so everyone attending can go see the final bouts of the day's tournament. Lance and Gwen and Elyan all wander off first, Elyan inviting Morgana as they go, saying they're planning to get some snacks before the bout, and that leaves Merlin and Freya with Arthur and Gwaine, all of them standing awkwardly around, and Merlin really needs to have a chat with his friends about interfering in his love life.

“We should go down and see the bouts,” Freya says after a few seconds. “We can clean up later—well, you two don't need to, as invited guests, but everyone involved in the show needs to. Merlin and I have to go down in costume, we're too recognizable for any kids staying, but if you two want to go incognito we can wait while you change.”

“Arthur can't,” says Gwaine, all cheer. “The kids love him, it's all very heartwarming. Can't wait for you to get reamed out by your father's secretary for this one, Pendragon.”

“Cheers,” says Arthur, wry, and turns to Merlin. “He's not wrong, though—I'm fine in this a while longer, even if I'll be grateful to wear something cooler again shortly. I'm ready to walk down if all of you are. Excited to catch a bout, come to that.”

“Let's get going, then,” says Gwaine, and offers his arm to Freya. “I may be on duty, but I think I can protect him from someone coming at us with a sword and still escort you down, if you like. It's pity I'm not fighting, or I'd offer you a favor.”

Freya gives Merlin a wide-eyed look, and he gives her one right back, but after a second's hesitation, she takes the offered arm and leads him out of the tent, leaving Arthur and Merlin to bring up the rear. “I'm not being escorted out of here like a Victorian maiden,” Merlin warns when he catches Arthur looking at him speculatively. “You and Gwaine both fence or something, don't you? It seems just like you.”

“Fencing was the one hobby my father and I agreed on, and Gwaine will tell you that he's proficient with every possible weapon someone might use to attempt to kill me, though I have my doubts about that. I'd like to learn how to use a longsword, something a bit more solid. Seems like fun.”

“I've tried a few times—segments for the show. I'm not great at it, but it's fun. Gwen and Lance are both amazing, you should ask for a lesson.” They leave the tent and lag a bit behind Freya and Gwaine, which is probably against bodyguarding rules, but Gwaine doesn't seem to care.

It's a hot afternoon, and Arthur and Gwaine must be roasting in their armor, but Gwaine doesn't seem to care, and Arthur's only a little flushed and that just makes Merlin think about other things, damn him. When he catches Merlin looking, he raises an eyebrow. “Something to say?”

“We were kind of in the middle of a conversation earlier. I wondered if you might like to continue it.” They're lagging, so Freya and Gwaine are outpacing them by a lot, which is definitely against the bodyguarding rules, but that's not his business. “You were saying, I think, that I'm a lot better as a real person and not a celebrity crush? I'd love to hear more about that.”

“Well, you're kind of a dick,” says Arthur, rolling his eyes, which is way more heartwarming than Merlin wants it to be after the Big Bird comment the last time he made an attempt at this kind of thing. “But mostly you're not who you are on television the same way, I don't know, Kate Winslet isn't.”

Someday Merlin is going to make fun of him for thinking of Kate Winslet before any other actors and ask about all his feelings on Titanic, but in the meantime he just grins. “And you're a lot less of a dick than you seem at first, and definitely better than your family would imply. Or, well, your father, I have nothing against Morgana.”

“You should, I'm a firm believer that everyone should have something against Morgana. Do you want to go on a date?”

“What does that have to do with Morgana?”

“Nothing, but we're going to get to the crowd soon, so I'm trying to be efficient.” Perhaps realizing how unromantic that is, Arthur clears his throat. “Look, I am normally much better at this, I promise. I can woo you properly if you'd like. Flowers, or something.”

“Well, you already got me a finger puppet. I don't see you topping that, to be honest.” If he'd been told before all this that he was going to go on a date with Arthur Pendragon, Merlin would not have believed it, but then again, he didn't know much about Arthur at all. “Yes. Let's have a date. Not tonight, I'm too tired and I'm going to go home and fall asleep over my food and you probably smell like shit after a day stuck in chain mail, but sometime soon.”

“Thanks, at least we're both bad at it.”

“The last guy I tried to sleep with turned me down because of Sesame Street and that was months ago, so I think I have an excuse.”

Arthur looks horrified, and then starts laughing. “I can do a great deal better than that, anyway. I know it's a bit much for a first date, but I'm a really good cook. You can ask Morgana and Gwaine, they'll agree. And then no one will recognize us and get into our business, and Gwaine doesn't need to be there because my building's security is sufficient, so we can actually have some privacy.”

It is a little much, but Arthur himself is a little much. Merlin is coming to find he doesn't really mind it. “Yes. Let's set it up,” he says, just as they catch up to Freya and Gwaine.

Gwaine grins at them, shameless. “Nice chat?”

Merlin keeps walking to the tournament field, waving at any kids who see him on the way and giving them a shushing gesture like it's a secret he's there, mostly to save himself and Freya from the potential swarm. “I see what you mean about privacy,” he tells Arthur, and gets a scandalized look from Freya as they shoulder their way into the crowd to get a good vantage point of the fighting.

Freya and Gwaine still have their arms linked, and it's stopped looking like play-acting and started looking like something more, so that will be a question to ask Freya on the ride back home, but for now Merlin leaves it be and turns his attention to the bout in front of him.

After a few minutes, he brushes his hand against Arthur's, and Arthur takes it immediately, like he's been waiting. Merlin's grin might look a little weird to anyone watching, considering they're watching two people beat each other up, but he's not sure he could stop if he tried.

“I still can't believe you're making me talk to a damn griffin puppet when you are right there,” says Arthur, doing his best to look pleading at Merlin, who's looking pleased with himself in jeans and a coat standing behind the camera. “Why do I have to do this?”

“Because I have ambitions for you to get your own show so you'll stop complaining to me about your students not paying attention and also just to see how red your father's face gets, and if you do that you need your own cast, and that includes puppets. This one, in fact! We've had fan mail asking where she went after we helped her out that one episode. Remember, her name is Joy.”

Arthur is seriously reconsidering all his complaining about work, now that he's alone in front of the camera other than Elyan, who's ducked down to operate the puppet while Gwen stands by to voice it, and being watched by far too many of his friends and Merlin's for comfort. Gwaine is filming what he claims is a gag reel for Morgana, and Freya is sitting off to the side, probably there more for him than for Arthur.

Lance clears his throat. “Are you ready to try a take, Arthur? It shouldn't take too many, the light is good right now and you know what you're talking about. Plus if you're worried about the puppet, it's going to be fine, you forget it's a puppet soon enough.”

Arthur sighs, but Merlin is still grinning at him and it's not going to get any less embarrassing the longer he puts it off. “Fine, let's try it.”

“Great.” Lance heaves a sigh and then sets the camera going. “Action!”

Arthur does as he's been asked to, takes a few steps in the shallow snow that's fallen, prompting this first segment that he's filming as filler for Merlin's Castle, and then turns back to camera. “Oh, hello! Have you left the castle for a bit? I'm Sir Arthur, and you've just arrived at an interesting time in the forest. If we look around, I think we can find all sorts of animal tracks in the snow, so maybe if you look in your own yards, you can see who's been visiting you.” He peers down at some invented tracks they put in the snow, half bird and half cat at his insistence, since if they're going to do griffins they may as well do logical trailsign for them. “And it looks like I've been visited by a friend of mine! Joy, are you here?”

“Hello, Arthur!” says Gwen, cheerful and sounding delighted to see him. He forces himself to look in the puppet's direction and not hers. She's said that if his segments get more frequent or if he does get the spin-off nature show Merlin keeps threatening and the network makes interested noises about, they'll have to recast her, but for now it's reassuring getting to act across from someone he knows still. “It's a beautiful day in the woods. Who else have you seen around?”

Arthur leads her around to all the painstaking tracks they made in the snow, that will be highlighted and edited when the segment is put in an episode, and they have a little chat about all of it, and then a few more takes, and then a whole other segment about winter safety in the woods and how to avoid hypothermia and frostbite that is very hard to take seriously when Elyan is sitting in the snow with his hands in the puppet concentrating very hard on his work and Arthur can see him doing all of it.

“Speaking of woods safety,” he says when it's finally all done, “I think we're going to get hypothermia out here if we spend much longer on this. How's it looking from the camera side?”

“Wonderful,” says Merlin, and proves it by walking on camera and giving Arthur a thermos of still-warm tea instead of asking for another take. “We can get you out of all the cold armor and into something warm before dinner. You look very knightly, and also very frozen.”

“You always say that, and I think it just means that you're hot for me in armor,” says Arthur, grinning when Merlin blushes and Freya starts laughing.

“I don't know why I put up with you,” says Merlin, but he kisses him a second later, so Arthur decides to ignore that. “Now come on, let's get back to civilization. We can talk all about plans for future segments.”

Arthur's probably never going to have a show of his own, but that's fine by him. He thinks he'll like his segments, once he gets over feeling embarrassed, and it's enough variety that he doesn't mind the more tedious parts of teaching. And on top of that, he gets to spend time with Merlin, not that he's ever going to admit that's a factor. “Do I get to teach you how to track wildlife in one of these segments?” he asks, putting his arm around Merlin's shoulder just to make him make a face at the cold metal where it touches his skin. “Out in the brisk winter air, stalking through the undergrowth ...”

“I honestly can't tell if you think that's hot or if you think you're annoying me and whichever one you're going for, it's kind of working.” Merlin shakes his head and laughs. “I should never have let you come on my show.”

Behind them, everyone else is packing up, and Gwaine is probably faithfully following along, which means Freya is too, but Arthur decides to keep Merlin to himself for just a bit longer. “Liar, you don't know what you would do without me. You love me,” he says, and feels a little daring about it, since the words are still very new.

Merlin just leans into his side a little more. “I really do.”