10…9…8

Merlin was standing just outside of Arthur's door, trying to stifle any laughter that might escape prematurely. He knew his king's reaction would be one to remember.

7…6…5…

The warlock mentally prepared himself, pressing his lips firmly together to keep his smile at bay. Keeping a neutral mask was harder than one thought especially when it came to Arthur. His king was just naturally funny to look at.

4…3…2…

"Merlin," Arthur yelled from within his chambers. "What the hell is this?"

Merlin waited a long moment before barging into his friend's room, trying to look startled and worried. He wasn't sure how well he'd managed it but his expression seemed to appease Arthur.

"Don't gape at me like you don't know what's going on, Merlin. This has you written all over it."

Or not, Merlin thought.

"I'm not sure what you are talking about, sire. Care to explain further?"

Arthur huffed out a breath of anger and jabbed his finger down at a small group of large, bulbous toads hopping around near his feet. They certainly were disgusting creatures and Merlin gave himself a silent pat on the back for a job well done.

"What are these," Arthur snapped.

"Well, sire, they look like toads."

"Congratulations Merlin, at least we can say you correctly identify your animals, but I think we both know that these aren't normal toads."

"They look perfectly normal to me, Arthur."

"But, they aren't! They multiply!"

"Multiply?"

"Yes, Merlin they multiply. Every time I touch one it turns into two."

Merlin looked at the fifteen toads and said, "How much touching have you done, sire?"

"That doesn't matter," Arthur huffed. "Just tell me what to do so they stop."

"Well, if they multiply when you touch them then my best guess for a solution would be to stop touching them."

"Funny," Arthur said dryly.

"I do try, sire."

"Hmmm…I am sure you do."

"I lay awake at night thinking of ways to amuse you, Arthur. You should be more appreciative. Say thanks once in awhile."

"Merlin," Arthur sighed. "The fact that you haven't found a more helpful use for your gifts concerns me. Honestly, out all the things you could have done today you chose to fill my room with multiplying toads?"

"Sire," the servant cried in mock hurt. "I had a great many things to accomplish today, but I selflessly took time out my busy schedule to take care of the most important job of all."

"Oh, I can't wait to hear this one. What would that be, Merlin?"

"I gave you excitement, sire! How many kings can say they woke up to multiplying toads in their chambers?"

"Very few, I am sure."

"You see, Arthur? Aren't you excited?"

"Beyond belief," Arthur replied drily. "Now, get rid of them!"

"Arthur," Merlin scolded. "You haven't said the magic word."

"This is ridiculous," Arthur sighed. "Remind me why I keep you around?"

"Because I'm the only person who can stand to be around you for more than five minutes."

Merlin watched, bemused, as his king regarded the toads on the floor clearly wondering whether their removal would be worth the embarrassment of fulfilling Merlin's demands. One of the toads sprung from the floor and landed on Arthur's boot before the young man could pull away.

The toad's eyes bulged slightly as it divided from one amphibian into two, each toad croaking as one until they had become completely separated. Merlin snuck a glance at his friend and nearly laughed at the disgusted look on the man's face.

"What is the magic word," Arthur growled.

"There is no need to be grumpy—"

"Merlin," Arthur snapped. "The word please."

"Well…its more of a phrase, actually."

"Oh dear…"

"I want you to say that I am the most charming, devilishly good looking man alive and that you are a prat."

"Absolutely not, Merlin. I am a king for goodness sake. I can't be heard to say things like that."

"No on will hear you," Merlin argued, "Well…except for me…and the toads, but I think your secret is safe with them."

"It isn't them I am concerned with, Merlin."

"That is my condition," the servant said, shrugging amiably. "Take it or leave it."

The king studied him in silence, jaw clenching as he furiously debated the ramifications of the words. Merlin allowed him his thoughts for a brief moment then sighed and turned away from him, hiding his grin in the knick of time.

"Well," he said slowly as he walked away. "As you said I have got chores to get on with so I suppose you'll just let me know when you are ready to—"

"Fine," Arthur growled. The young man mumbled something unintelligible and Merlin's grin widened.

"What was that, sire? I couldn't quite hear you."

"Open up your ears then," Arthur snapped.

Merlin waited patiently, arms clasped behind his back, and stared at his king with raised brows. When the king refused to answer he leaned forward with his hand cupped around his ear and grinned rakishly.

"You are the most charming, devilishly good looking man alive and I am a prat," Arthur growled, teeth clenching so hard Merlin was sure that he was going to break them.

"Ah, sire," Merlin exclaimed. "You shouldn't have!"

He turned to dash away, but was stopped by a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Merlin," the king said evenly. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"I don't think so," the warlock replied innocently.

"The toads, Merlin! Get rid of them."

"Well, I suppose we made a deal."

"Yes, Merlin. We made a deal."

The young man said the word he'd thought was the correct counter spell. His eyes flashed gold and when the magical haze cleared from his vision seconds later Merlin was both shocked and amused at the sight that awaited him.

"Please tell me that those aren't what I think they are," Arthur moaned.

"Arthur, I may have…ummm….made a slight blunder," the warlock replied softly.

"You think," Arthur asked, enraged. "Merlin, there are…I don't even know what they are, Merlin, but they are all over my room!"

"I think they are a cross between a rat and a toad, sire. A rodat if you will. Perhaps even a toerad. I'm not sure which."

"You assured me they would be gone, Merlin."

"Well…technically they are, Arthur. Do you see any toads? Because I don't."

"Fix it," Arthur snapped. "Before I lose my lunch and I make you clean it up."

"Right," Merlin said hastily. "I just have to figure out which spell I should use."

"You don't know? I thought you were supposed to be all powerful!"

"I told you, Arthur! I learn as I go. This seemed simple enough when I read it."

"That should have been enough to tell you it was beyond you, Merlin."

"Arthur, just because I blundered this particular spell up it does not mean that I cannot turn you into something horribly adorable with fluffy ears. I could show you to Gwen and she could dress you up in little outfits. Perhaps take you to tea."

"What are you babbling on about, Merlin?"

"I am simply saying that you would be wise not to patronize me, Arthur. I may not be the best warlock, but I am still a warlock you know."

"Oh, how could I forget with the hoppity rodats or toerads or whatever the hell they are covering my floor with their slime?"

"Did you just say hoppity?"

"Merlin?"

"Yes sire?"

"Do you value your life at all?"

"I happen to be quite keen on the idea of living, sire."

"Then shut up and get rid of these things."

"Well that is impossible isn't it? I mean how can I get rid of them if I can't say the spell that—"

"I am going to kill you, Merlin. So help me god I am going to do it."

"Alright," Merlin whispered dramatically. "Don't get your knickers in a twist. Let me try this…"

He said a word and felt the power rush through him once more. When he opened his eyes he was not confronted with a mix of toad and rat, but he was not met with the sight of a simple toad either.

"A kitten," Arthur sighed. "Really? A kitten? You couldn't have managed that before now?"

"I wasn't exactly going for cute, sire. I don't think you would have been greatly perturbed if you suddenly had a pack of kittens romping around your chambers."

The kitten in question mewed piteously and clawed at Arthur's trousers. He plucked it from the floor with gentle fingers and smiled as the little cat curled its head up into the hollow of his throat and purred. He scratched its chin absentmindedly and Merlin grinned.

"New friend, sire?"

"Yes, I am thinking of replacing you with him. Perhaps name him Merlin to make it more official."

"I think it's a girl, Arthur."

"Merlina then."

"Merlina? Really?"

"You like Merlina, don't you," he said to the little cat, laughing as a tiny pink tongue reached out to lap at his cheek.

"I wonder how Gwen would feel knowing you have another woman in your life."

"In this particular case I doubt she would mind."

"Merlina might though. From the looks if it she wants you all to herself, sire."

"Merlin," the young man said abruptly, holding the cat away from him to study the creature with concerned eyes. "You don't think she minds do you?"

"Minds what?"

"Minds being a cat," he whispered as if the cat could understand him. "I mean, a minute ago she was a toad."

"I don't think she is horribly concerned," Merlin replied, not sure whether to be amused or disturbed when his king made a horridly sweet cooing noise at the creature. "Although, if you are so worried you can ask her. You seem to be doing a fine job of communicating already."

Arthur froze as he realized how he'd been acting in front of his loose-lipped friend. He held the cat away from him as if it suddenly had a horrid disease, but it swatted playfully at his nose and the young man gave an amused albeit resigned sigh. He set the cat down and it pounced on a particularly large and evil dust mite before racing after it as the devilish particle escaped.

"If you tell anyone," Arthur said slowly.

"Your secret is safe with me, sire," Merlin promised, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

"It better be," Arthur growled.

Yet, that night as the warlock, Fair Folk woman, queen and king settled down for dinner with the knights Arthur was dismayed to find his men smirking at him knowingly. His servant, the idiot, had a smile large enough to block out the sun plastered firmly on his stupid face.

"Sire," Gwaine said amiably, leaning over as he swallowed a chunk of bread. "I'm jealous."

"Of," Arthur asked flatly, already knowing what was coming.

"Well, sire, you never cuddle me close," the knight replied as if he'd been physically wounded. "And I certainly don't get to swat your nose. I feel like we aren't real friends, Arthur."

The king did not reply, but found his servant's eyes and smiled thinly.

"Just you wait," he mouthed over the mounds of bread and meat.

Merlin widened his eyes playfully at him, taking hold of Awen's shoulder and cowering behind it as if terrified by his master's promises of revenge. Then, as cheekily as he could, the young man pointed his finger at his king and laughed.

"Wrong move, Merlin."

Arthur took a large spoonful of mash and flung it at his servant's face. It hit the young man with a splat and the servant's eyes widened comically.

"Ha," the king laughed. "Take that, Merlin."

He expected Merlin to seek retribution in some way, but the man simply grinned at him, mash dripping from his cheeks to his tunic.

"Sire," he said amiably. "Look at Guinevere. She has something for you."

"What," Arthur asked perplexed, turning to face his wife.

He received a face full of cream for his efforts.

"Ha," Merlin crowed. "Take that, Arthur!"

Once the first shots had been fired it didn't take long for each of them to turn on each other, though Leon resisted for as long as he could. It was only when Gwaine ran by him, cackling wildly, and pelted him with an entire goblet of wine that he joined the fray.

The servants stood outside the doors, perplexed at the shouts of amusement and barks of laughter emanating from within the room. They were even more surprised when Arthur, along with his knights, refused to let them clean the room, acknowledging that the mess was their own.

Many centuries later, when the times of Arthur had passed and the world began the harsh change from one era to another one could find a written history of those years deep beneath the fortress of the once powerful Camelot. If that person were to look on the seventh page of the hundredth chapter of that history one would be surprised to find the first ever recorded food fight.

If one were to look even further they would find a children's legend about a toad who became a rat who became a cat and learned some valuable lesson about its moral character during those changes. After all, what is a legend without some sort of moral story hidden within its depths? The legend, the book would inform you, was written by Myrddin Emrys, who, as we all know, was a legend in and of himself.