[A sequel to "The Prat's in Love." Uther holds a tournament and banquet, to which he invites an assortment of eligible young noblewomen for Arthur's inspection. At the same time, Merlin's mother arrives at Camelot for a visit. The dilemma: how to keep both parents from finding out that their offspring are a bit closer than most people think. Gaius, Gwen, and Morgana may have their suspicions, but God forbid that Uther hears of it. Subtext: Merlin's weight loss. Everyone's telling him he needs to eat. Is it only me or has anyone else noticed that young Mr. Morgan is quite a bit thinner than he was in the first season. This is Chapter One, other chapters to follow.]

Chapter 1: Morning in Camelot

King Uther Pendragon was an early riser. It was something he did out of habit, and it pleased him to be up and about before most of the court was stirring. The servants of course arose even earlier, just before dawn, as Uther expected them to be ready to attend him in the audience hall, in his study, in the courtyard, at a moment's notice. There was little point in maintaining a large household, he often mused, unless all of the lackeys, grooms, guards, heralds, maidservants, manservants, and kitchen help were well trained, neatly and appropriately attired, mannerly, and punctual.

Which made it all the more difficult for him to understand his son Arthur's reliance on that lackadaisical lad he had taken for a manservant. It had been Uther who had first appointed him to the job, the king reminded himself, as a reward for services rendered, although Arthur had later sacked him and then re-hired him with an amazing alacrity. Really, it was a king's–or a prince's–duty to himself to have an attendant who did him credit, and this young Merlin with his boyish grin and unprepossessing wardrobe was hardly the sort of manservant a crown prince should have at his side on a constant basis. (Even when one dressed him up in the proper regalia–the feathered hat for example–the effect was verging on comical.) Only the day before Uther had looked out of the window to see Arthur, just returned from a hunt, crossing the courtyard with his characteristic rapid stride, Merlin loping alongside him with his gear, for all the world like an overgrown pup with a bone. No sense of dignity or pride in his office. No reverence for members of the nobility. Not that the boy was totally lacking in appeal, Uther acknowledged ruefully, for it was obvious that Morgana, her maid Guinevere, and many a baron's wife had made quite a pet of him, rumpling his hair as he passed, saving delicacies from the supper table for him, and treating him with the kind of affection usually reserved for blood relatives. That he had a certain charm Uther was grudgingly able to admit, and that he was an attractive youth he had to accept, based on the way girls often glanced in his direction. But honestly, this tendency of Arthur's to have him around from dawn until dusk...it lacked reason and it lacked sense.

The king looked out of the nearest window to gauge the weather and was relieved to see that yesterday's rain had vanished, leaving only a heavy golden mist that hovered over the fields beyond the barbican. He could see the rich tilled earth, the faint green of fledgling crops, and further away, a froth of pink that told him the fruit blossoms were already on the trees in the orchard. Off in the distance he could see a few peasants with oxen, one or two early morning travelers on the road leading out from the gates of Camelot. It was a lyrically beautiful scene but this type of beauty did not register with Uther. Precision, order, restraint, and rigid discipline–these were the things that Uther considered worthy of admiration.

A narrow shaft of sunlight, rich with dust motes, came through the gap in the heavy curtains of the window near Arthur's bed. It was a modest source of light but enough to wake Merlin, and a moment later a hint of birdsong outside told him that the day had begun.

He raised his head from the prince's chest and shifted his weight as stealthily as he could so as not to disturb him. Arthur still slept deeply, face half turned into the pillow, the fine linen sheet crumpled and bunched just below his muscular shoulders. Merlin pulled the sheet and coverlet up to Arthur's chin and then turned on his side to watch him sleep, his own expression one of fond exasperation.

It was a month since they had first loved each other, and this was perhaps only their fourth or fifth time together in secret. It wasn't easy for them to be alone; most mornings either Uther demanded Arthur's presence or Gaius required Merlin's. It was not uncommon for Morgana to drop into Arthur's chamber unannounced. Evenings were even more difficult: there were state dinners to attend, impromptu concerts in the great hall–for which servants were required to be present–and lately Uther had been keeping Arthur at his side until quite late at night. On the rare occasions when Uther was elsewhere the two would make their way to Arthur's room, walking nonchalantly down the long corridors, studiously avoiding each other's eyes or the eyes of anyone else passing by them. Only in the crown prince's chamber, with the door securely bolted, could they grin stupidly at each other, embrace hungrily, insult one another affectionately ("Prat!" "Idiot!" "Clotpole!"), sprawl together in front of the fire to talk. (During these moments Merlin was happy to be told that he had become an accomplished kisser.) More often than not an impatient Arthur would simply launch himself at Merlin, pinning him to the bed before either of them could so much as remove one article of clothing.

"Mine!" he would murmur into Merlin's ear, "All mine!"

"Arthur," Merlin would reply softly, "Take off that hauberk, it hurts!"

Now Arthur shifted against the pillow and his eyes opened just a crack.

"Merlin." The way he said it turned the name into a caress.

There simply could not be any prince in the British isles handsomer than Arthur, Merlin thought to himself as he met the prince's steady blue gaze. Certainly in Albion he was quite unmatched for looks, not to mention his skill at arms. He reached out and brushed Arthur's fair hair out of his eyes, pushing it back from his brow before the hand was caught in a steely grasp and Arthur pulled him down beside him.

The crown prince ran his own hand gently over Merlin's collarbones, and then his eyes narrowed.

"Merlin, for pity's sake. We must feed you up."

"Feed...? I'm not complaining, I get enough food."

"I could snap you in two with one hand, I swear."

"I dare you," Merlin replied with a smile, but he knew what Arthur was talking about. The past four weeks he'd been run ragged, between his castle duties and his studies with Gaius, and that, combined with the intensity of his newly awakened passion, had genuinely kept him off his food.

"Really Merlin, if you don't eat two helpings at dinner, and one of Gwen's custard pies afterward, I promise I'll thrash you."

"You and whose army?" Merlin muttered, but Arthur wasn't going to let it alone. He ran his eyes over Merlin's upper body, so lean and pale, before meeting his eyes. Those eyes, a cool blue fringed with dark lashes in the delicate pallor of his face, were so irresistible that Arthur pulled Merlin against him, then rested one hand lightly on his hip while he ran the fingers of his other hand through the black hair that was fine and silky on the nape of Merlin's neck.

"Custard pie and strawberries with cream," he whispered, "Mmmm," but a sudden authoritative rap on the door startled them both into silence.

"Arthur." It was Uther's voice.

There was a muffled crash as Merlin rolled off the bed and then under it, while Arthur vaulted from the mattress to the floor, reaching for the nightshirt that lay discarded on a chair. Seconds later, features composed if a trifle flushed, he pulled the door open to face his father.

"Arthur," Uther repeated, his eyes darting across the room before returning to his son's face. "Are you aware of what time it is?"

"I wasn't feeling quite the thing, sorry," Arthur replied, grateful for the half-closed curtains and praying that nothing of Merlin's was visible in the growing morning light. "Anyway, the knights don't need me this morning, they know what they're supposed to do."

"Perhaps you're forgetting that we have to prepare for the tournament next week?"

Not another one, Arthur groaned mentally, but aloud he merely said, "No, I've not forgotten. Merlin will see to my destrier."

"It will be hand to hand sword fighting, no horses. Don't you recall when I told the earl of Glastonbury yesterday? And after the tourney we have a feast, with dancing."

Arthur murmured something that sounded like "Yes, of course," but he was wide awake now, and Uther could see that he was restless.

"You'd better dress and come down to the courtyard," he said curtly, his eyes scanning the room again with an assessing gleam that Arthur found unnerving. "It appears you'll have to dress yourself; from the look of things your manservant is late again."

The prince gave his father a polite half-smile and waited until Uther pivoted and stalked off down the corridor, his face a mask of displeasure. Only when the door was shut and bolted again did he breathe a noisy sigh of relief.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," came Merlin's voice from behind him. "From the look of things your bloody manservant is late again."

Arthur turned to find Merlin standing by the side of the bed, fully dressed, holding out his white shirt and crimson jacket. Once the shirt had been pulled over his head he resisted the urge to press Merlin back against the bedpost, and wrestled his arms into the sleeves of the jacket instead. No sooner was he dressed than another, softer, knock was heard. When the door swung open it revealed Guinevere, one arm laden with freshly laundered towels, a basket containing Morgana's breakfast things slung over the other.

"Excuse me, my lord," Gwen said courteously. "I thought I might find Merlin here and I have a message for him."

Merlin looked up with the wide grin that Gwen, her mistress, and many others found completely disarming.

"Good morning Gwen," he and Arthur said in unison. Gwen burst out laughing and Merlin noticed that Arthur was looking at her appreciatively. Not that he minded, he had known for some time that Arthur found Guinevere pretty, and he himself was drawn to her singular, somewhat exotic attractiveness. He felt no jealousy--no, never of Gwen, she was such a dear, and he sensed that she too had conflicted feelings about both the prince and himself.

"A message, Gwen?" he asked as he placed one of Arthur's boots next to the chair; the other he accidentally dropped on the prince's foot. Ducking to avoid the gentle cuff Arthur aimed at his ear, he took the towels from Gwen's grasp and put them on the table before retrieving Arthur's sword belt from the back of the chair.

"Gaius asked me to look for you," Gwen continued, noting but not commenting on the air of relaxed intimacy that permeated the chamber. "He had a message from your mother this morning; she's coming to visit you next week."

"She is?" Merlin's grin stayed in place but Gwen could tell that he was surprised. "For how long, I mean for how many days?"

"I don't know," Gwen replied, looking from one pair of blue eyes to the other. "But it'll be lovely to see her. I got to be so fond of her, during our stay in Ealdor."

"Thank you," said Merlin absently, his hands fiddling with the heavy belt buckle. Gwen could see that he was pleased, but also that he was more than just a little flustered by the news. "There's no sense in writing her, she knows I'll be happy to see her. I'll just ask Gaius if we can move an extra cot into my room."

"Or she can stay with me if you like," Gwen offered, her eyes flickering in the direction of the prince. "That way you can come and go whenever...whenever you're needed, and not disturb her."

"Thank you," Merlin said again, but now it was obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere. Once Gwen had backed out of the room, the door safely closed, he spun around just in time to ram the sword belt, buckle end first, into Arthur's stomach.

"Oof, Merlin, you idiot!" came the anticipated roar as he opened his mouth to apologize, but Arthur pushed him against the door and kissed him so deeply and so passionately that Merlin simply dropped the belt onto the floor.

"Now," Arthur murmured, a commanding glint in his eye as he scooped up the belt and fastened it around his waist, "Go and get yourself something to eat; I'm off to the training ground."

"I'm not hungry, really," Merlin began but Arthur pulled the door open and gently pushed him through it.

"Shut up Merlin, will you? What you need is breakfast," he snorted, looking his manservant up and down. "Or I swear I will thrash you black and blue. Now go and eat, that's an order."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Because the sun was shining for the first time in days, the elderly court physician was standing on the threshold of his study, enjoying the warmth and morning light when the king of Camelot emerged from the castle and made his way across the courtyard followed by a small escort of armored knights. After abruptly ordering one of the grooms to bring his horse around to the gate immediately, Uther strode across the paving stones to where Gaius was leaning against the arched doorway leading to his workroom.

"Ah Gaius!" Uther called out as he approached. "Before I forget. I'll be needing more of that linament for my knee this evening. Riding makes it stiff."

He winced as he straightened and then bent his right leg, encased in shining metal, and then turned to meet the physician's eye.

"And Gaius...you might speak to that manservant of Arthur's. He's late for his duties again, today. I suppose he's in his bed, asleep, and at this hour! No sense of responsibility, that boy. I have no idea why Arthur doesn't sack him, as I've half a mind to do. You think he has a talent for medicine, I know, but truly! He never seems to know what he's about. Do you suppose he really might have some sort of mental affliction?"

"I...I said I would look into it, sire. But I rather doubt it, I think it's merely the carelessness of the young," Gaius replied, all the while casting a furtive eye around the courtyard. He knew, none better, that Merlin was not in his room, and Gaius had been wondering about his absence--not the first over the past several weeks--since he had arisen at dawn. Initially he had thought nothing of it, but now? Three, four, five nights when his bed had not been slept in? Gaius frowned and looked down at the ground, fervently hoping that some married noblewoman wasn't amusing herself with his young friend.

"He's...he's actually out in the fields, sire. I sent him this morning, to gather some plants I need for medications, including your linament," he added lamely, hoping Uther would not notice his hesitation. "Your pardon, sire, for sending him without asking the prince's permission. My memory isn't what it used to be, I'm afraid. But I'll speak to the lad about his tardiness; that really won't do after all."

"Well, see to it, will you? I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with incompetents," Uther muttered brusquely, wincing again as he attempted to rest his weight evenly on both feet. "You know I have this tourney to attend to, and the banquet afterward."

Gaius leaped at the change of subject.

"Yes, sire, and if I may say so, it's the perfect time of year for a celebration. I suppose there is a reason behind it...the prince's return to full health, I imagine?"

"That's one reason, obviously, but I've another in mind," replied the king, still occupied with his game leg. "The earl of Glastonbury--he's here, as you know, with his son and daughter--was petitioning me yesterday for another land grant, and I was thinking..." His voice trailed off as he shifted his stance, favoring his left leg and sound left knee.

Gaius gave him a few moments. "You were thinking, sire?"

"It was the sight of his daughter, actually, that got me to thinking. I realize that Arthur's young yet, but it's not too early to get him accustomed to the idea of his matrimonial prospects. I've always hoped that he and Morgana, but, well...I've sent heralds to invite ten noble families with eligible daughters to the banquet...it won't do any harm to see what's available for the future king of Albion, will it? Glastonbury's daughter--I've invited her too, pretty little thing. She sat next to Arthur at dinner last night, if you recall."

Gaius recalled her quite well: a voluble, auburn-haired young woman with a bosom of monumental proportions, amply visible above the low neckline of her gown. Every time she leaned in Arthur's direction, the wobbling orbs seemed in danger of exploding from the confines of her bodice. The prince had been scrupulously polite and not stared, but Gaius had seen Merlin rolling his eyes and heard Gwen's stifled giggle as they and the other servants carried food and drink to and from the high table.

"Delightful," was all that Gaius could think of to say.

"But Gaius...I've no one else to tell this to, but I'm a trifle concerned."

Oh no, now what? the physician groaned inwardly, but aloud he said only, "Concerned, sire?"

"I went to Arthur's chamber this morning and spoke with him. He was awake, but the curtains were drawn, and...and...I had the distinct feeling that there was someone else in the room with him."

With an effort Gaius prevented his mouth from falling open. "Erm, someone else, you said?"

"I saw no one, but, well, there was something. And he clearly wanted me gone. I don't suppose you'd have any idea...if there's someone...who it might have been?"

"Who, sire?" Gaius' voice rose an octave as a possibility occurred to him that he had not considered before.

"You know I don't really approve of traffic with kitchen wenches and the like, but if it's a girl of good family..."

"Yes?"

"...that's even worse."

"Sire, all I can say is that I've seen no indication that the prince has been keeping company with any lady of my aquaintance," Gaius said breathlessly.

"I hope you're right, my old friend," Uther snapped, bending and straightening his leg again in obvious discomfort. "There have been at least three nights this month past when Arthur retired early and rose late...I only hope it isn't some trollop from the lower town."

"Oh no, sire, I'm sure it's nothing of the kind. Nothing of the kind. That is...the crown prince has been recuperating from his injury; I'm sure it's nothing to do with, erm, well, ladies," Gaius found himself babbling as his brain suddenly put two and two together.

"I hope you're right," Uther repeated as he pulled on his gauntlets and turned to leave. "Good God...I can only pray it wasn't the earl of Glastonbury's daughter!"

The king wheeled about and headed toward the gate, the waiting horse and attendants at the very moment that Gaius caught a glimpse of Merlin skittering around the corner and dashing at top speed through the door to Gaius' chambers. Uther had not seen him, and Gaius gave a sigh of relief before turning to follow his unruly charge inside, closing the door firmly behind him.

"Merlin!" he said sternly, entering his chamber just in time to see the door to Merlin's little bedchamber slam shut.

"Merlin!" Gaius thundered, at the end of his patience, and a moment later the door cracked open and Merlin's disheveled head appeared around the edge.

"For God's sake Merlin," Gaius essayed in a more subdued tone of voice. "Come in and get your breakfast. All this gallivanting about--you can't tell me it's doing you any good. You've got dark circles under your eyes like a charcoal burner."

He busied himself with bowls of porridge and fruit, pouring water into goblets, and said nothing further until both were seated at the table. Merlin looked at the lump-filled porridge with barely concealed dismay, but he leaned over the bowl and raised the spoon to his lips.

"Eat, Merlin," rumbled Gaius, eyeing the young man's prominent cheekbones with a touch of alarm. "You'll waste away to nothing if you're not careful."

Merlin smiled a little as he scooped up another spoonful.

"Arthur says I need feeding up," he acknowledged with his mouth full.

"Arthur's right," Gaius muttered, avoiding the other's eyes. "You know I promised your mother I'd look after you. You're hardly a child, Merlin, but I feel responsible for your welfare. Missing meals. Out until all hours of the night, sleeping I don't know where...and you notice that I don't ask you where; it's not my business. If you are conducting your amours within the confines of the castle, however, I suggest that you watch your step. You may work for Arthur but the king has every right to have you sacked. According to Uther you were late to Arthur's chamber this morning, and you know how he disapproves of tardiness."

Out of the corner of his eye he could see the slight flush that suffused Merlin's hollow cheeks, but he said nothing until both had nearly finished the porridge and were halfway through the bowl of fruit.

"You know, my boy," he said gently, finally meeting Merlin's gaze, "I and others owe you a debt of gratitude that cannot be expressed--at least not openly, not while Uther's king. But you need to be careful, and not just about your use of magic. I ask for no details about your private life, but, well...you know what the king is like when it comes to issues of morality and social class. And while we're on the subject of your, erm, personal affairs, I take it Gwen told you that your mother is coming to visit?"

Merlin nodded, his eyes on Gaius' face.

"While Hunith's here I think it would be best if these...these nocturnal visitations were put on hold. At least for the duration. You know, I think, what I'm saying."

There was no argument from Merlin, so Gaius returned to his breakfast with dwindling enthusiasm (the boy was right, the porridge was far too lumpy) and a great many questions left unanswered.