Footsteps resonate through the echoing halls of the midnight-black castle.

They are not careless, or heavy; no, these are the carefully light footsteps that do not want to be heard. So, of course, it is only natural that everyone notices them.

They notice that the footsteps beat a path so worn and precise each and every night that it comes as a shock to remember a time when the footsteps had not been there, or imagine if they would ever stop. They notice that, each night, the footsteps get heavier and heavier; more and more tired.

There is one thing, however, that the inhabitants of the Camelot Castle are infuriated to find left irritatingly unknown;

Why on earth does Merlin the manservant spend so much time in his master's chambers at night?

One night, when theory after theory have been discarded in whispers behind securely locked doors, all of their imaginings are suddenly cast violently asunder. Because something happens that none could have ever anticipated;

Merlin leaves the door to Arthur's chambers slightly ajar.

"Come on, then, Merlin."

"But Sire… I'm so tired…"

"Merlin! You know our arrangement – why do I pay you – uh… how much do I pay you?"

"Two crowns a day."

"What? That's ridiculous! How can anyone live off that?"

"Thank you…"

"Shut up. Get on with it – I've been waiting all night."

"Nice to feel loved."

"Merlin!"

"Sorry, sorry…"

Here follows a short pause, during which the sound of a sigh and the creak of oak can be heard, along with the rustling of silken sheets. The eavesdropping nobles and their respective guards hold their breath as one as they wait – all though they do not know for what. Then –

"Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince. He was the most loved in the whole kingdom and everyone cheered when he rode past them-"

"Make the noise!"

"What?"

"Make. The. Noise."

A sigh. "clip, clop, clip, clop…"

Now, they notice a lot of things. One of these things just happens to be that after the next morning, when Arthur enters court to be greeted with quietened murmurs of "clip, clop", those mortified footsteps never creep past their quarters at midnight again…