Merlin had always been a poor judge of character. He couldn't read people as well as some, mistook the signs and signals launched in his direction. It had happened before with Morgana, who he had chosen to believe was a kindred spirit, of sorts, and moulded her in his imagination as a force of good. He had misread the signs, he knew that now. Must like he had misread the signs Arthur, his Prince and sire, had signposted around him all these years.

Merlin, finally, was about to come to realise how wrong he was about Arthur's distainful glances, (sometimes hurtful) teasing and constant orders for Merlin.

It started in Summer...