"You're joking," Arthur says at once. It's the only thing that even sort of makes sense.

"I'm not," Merlin says.

"No," Arthur says, and shakes his head, "you're—you're really—you're joking, Merlin, and it's not very funny, I'll have you know—"

"Arthur," Merlin says, seriously, "I'm not joking."

"You know, Princess," Gwaine says, hesitantly, and hesitant just really doesn't go hand-in-hand with Gwaine, "I really don't think he's joking."

"I'm not!" Merlin says, indignantly. "Why on earth would I—?"

"To make us look stupid," Arthur says. He doesn't even have to think about it. Why else would Merlin try and pull something like this? Why else would he come forward and claim that he could—that he could really—that he could actually—?

"Oh, yes," Merlin says, dryly, "so sorry, Sire, I forgot how my entire life revolves solely around you lot, and I spend my very limited free time thinking up ways to make all of you look stupid. How silly of me. Thank you ever so much for reminding me—"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says. He rubs at his forehead with his first two fingers. "God, you're really not joking about this, are you?"

"Well done, Sire," Merlin says. "Only took you half a decade to get there—"

Arthur hits him on the back of the head. "So," he says, as Merlin rubs at the base of his skull and glowers like a kicked kitten, "what—what have you. Um. You know. Seen? When you look into the future, I mean," he adds.

Merlin drops his hand back into his lap. "Things," he says, evasively.

"Oh," Arthur says, "very informative, Merlin, thank you."

"Morgana," Merlin says her name in that tight, quiet voice he always uses when he talks about her. "I Saw her betray you." He rubs his dirt-streaked palms on the thighs of his ragged trousers. "I tried to stop her."

"Oh," Arthur says, feebly. Something inside him feels terribly cold suddenly. Merlin Can See Into The Future, Sometimes, When He's Not A Complete Idiot isn't something he wants to talk about anymore.

Gwaine doesn't seem too bothered by it, but then, he never is. He didn't know Morgana before, not like Merlin did, not like Arthur did. "Can you look into the future right now?" He leans forward a little, eyes bright with the excitement, or maybe the mead. Or maybe both.

"I—I don't think it works like that, Gwaine," Arthur says, quickly, before Merlin can say it, because God knows Merlin won't just say that, God knows he'll go off on one of his magic is unpredictable and ever-changing and unknowable, magic cannot be tamed by any man, magic belongs to no one, magic is incredible and amazing, magic is my life, I would bed magic if I could—

Arthur is paraphrasing. A little bit. Maybe.

"Like you'd know," Gwaine retorts, in a very lofty sort of voice, "you can't see into the future." He turns, expectantly, back to look at Merlin. "So? Got anything for us, Merls? A bandit attack on the ride back? Nah, never mind, that's pretty much a given, huh? All right, all right, how 'bout this—Percy and I finally manage to nick a cake from the kitchens and—"

"That's not how it works, Gwaine!" Arthur snaps. He can hardly hear himself think with all the racket his knight is making. "And you keep your hands to yourself in the kitchen, for God's sake, if you so much as touch—"

"Yeah," Merlin says, suddenly, "yeah, I can See the future right now."

Arthur turns, slowly, to look 'round at Merlin, and from the corner of his eye, he can see Gwaine does the same. "Really?" he tries to sound skeptical, because come on, Merlin's got to be having them on, but it actually comes out sort of breathless. Can Merlin—can he really—?

Merlin's mouth twitches up at one corner. "I See Arthur is about to be a prat."

Arthur's jaw drops. The idiot was having me on! "Oh, shut up, Merlin!"

"And there it is. Just as I predicted."

Arthur clobbers him.

Notes: this one tried to get serious somewhere in the middle but i yanked it right back by its red neckerchief and made it light and insubstantial again lmao