I've joined the frenzied chaos that is Merlin, and I am greatly pleased with the fandom (good lord, the fanfictions around here are amazing. I think I've arrived in heaven). Another thing this fandom has a lot of are these "collection-fanfics". Just... one fanfiction containing loads of one-shots; I believe I've fallen in love with these. So, I'm giving it a try - whether or not I update this story remains to see!

Warnings regarding this one-shot: Crack-ish.

Disclaimer: Don't own. Surprise.

Summary: In which Arthur knows more than usual but still remains oblivious, Merlin is decidedly unimpressed, and Lancelot's eyebrows know no bounds.

It happens fast – but not fast enough to remain undetected. The dagger is magically thrown straight towards Arthur, and somewhere in the background he can hear Merlin yelling. And then, somehow, miraculously, the dagger misses him. Only, it doesn't miss him with a few inches or by a hairsbreadth – something that could have been explained. No; it misses him by completely changing direction and slamming into the trunk of a tree instead of into Arthur's chest.

And Merlin – Merlin's eyes are burning gold.

They're back to normal within less than a second, but he can't ignore what he saw. He'd recognize sorcery anywhere, even if he wishes he couldn't in this instance.

Lancelot unceremoniously slams the hilt of his sword against the shocked sorcerer's head, and he crumbles to the ground in a heap. The knight's eyes flicker nervously between Arthur and Merlin, and he takes a hesitant step towards Merlin (not that Arthur can blame him for his nervousness – he just saw his friend use magic, after all). Merlin himself is deathly pale as he stares at the prince, and he raises his hands in the commonly known gesture of peace (which Arthur finds a tad counterproductive, considering most sorcerers use hand gestures to direct their magic).

"Arthur," he starts, wide-eyed and jittery, but he doesn't seem to know what to say next. Lancelot's face is a mixture of dismay and fierce protectiveness (Arthur's a bit shocked by the protective set of his shoulders – apparently he takes his duties as the prince's knight very seriously), and he takes a few more steps towards them. Arthur is suddenly painfully aware of the sword in Lancelot's hand, and really, they hardly need Merlin any more skittish than he already is.

"Lancelot," Arthur calls sharply.

The knight stills and sends him a wary look. "Sire?"

"…Put away your sword."

Lancelot blinks but obeys without question, looking relieved and suspiciously hopeful. "Alright," Arthur sighs before pointing a finger at Merlin. "You. I don't know why the hell you suddenly decided to start studying magic, nor when, and frankly, I don't really care. This stops now, do you understand?"

"Do I… Wait, what?"

"Oh for god's sake, would you stop looking at me like I'm going to run a sword through you?" Arthur snaps.

"I don't know, would you stop looking at me like you're going to run a sword through me?" Merlin replies, even though he still appears to be two seconds away from being sick. Lancelot merely raises his eyebrows at them.

"If I'm executing anyone I need to know they deserve the verdict they get, and that the judgement fits the crime. I'm not sentencing everyone who's a suspect of magic to death, you idiot – "

"I just used magic in front of you, I can hardly classify as a suspect anymore–"

"Do you really think I'm going to have you killed for using a magic trick?" Arthur asks, slightly offended at Merlin's lack of faith in him.

"Um," Merlin says faintly. "Yes?"

"Anyway," Arthur says, louder than strictly necessary. "I need your word that you'll never use magic again, and then we'll leave this behind us."

"No."

Arthur can't tell who's more shocked by the protest that tears itself from Merlin's mouth; Arthur, Lancelot, or Merlin himself (although, come to think of it, Lancelot doesn't look surprised at all. His eyebrows have risen higher than before, yes, but he looks more exasperated than shocked). Merlin opens his mouth and closes it while frowning.

"…in retrospective, that would probably have been an ideal moment to smile, nod, agree, and tearfully thank you for your oh-so-merciful heart of gold."

Arthur grits his teeth and breathes out heavily through his nose. "Merlin," he starts pleasantly, and his lips form a sharp smile that is about as charming as an angry wyvern about to rip your throat out. "What. The actual. Hell."

"Pardon me, sire," Lancelot pipes up, smoothly interrupting Merlin's (no doubt offensive) tirade before he's able to start. "But magic is sometimes able to…um. Spontaneously appear in a person – it is not always required to be learned. Some are even…born with magic?" the knight sends a meaningful look towards Merlin, who responds with a similar look. Arthur chooses to ignore their soulful staring in order to focus on the actual issue.

"You're saying not all magic-users choose magic?" he asks carefully. Both Merlin and Lancelot nod eagerly, their heads bobbing up and down in a disturbingly similar way. Well, Arthur reasons with a faint feeling of relief, the new information made the situation with Merlin much easier to cope with. After all, if Merlin didn't choose the magic he didn't deliberately betray him. "So it can manifest as a disease," Arthur clarifies, and then watches (somewhat confused) as his companions' faces fall in dismay.

"I'm not diseased!" Merlin protests in an amusingly high-pitched voice.

"It's alright, Merlin," Arthur soothes and squeezes the servant's shoulders. "We can find a way to fix this; Lancelot must have seen a lot during his travels, and if he doesn't have an answer, I'm sure we can find some kind of a cure.

"I do not want a cure," Merlin splutters incredulously, and Arthur kindly decides to overlook it. The poor man is obviously confused, no doubt terrified: and despite Merlin's claims, Arthur's not actually a cruel man.

"Lancelot says this can manifest as a disease, and diseases have cures."

"I literally did not say that, sire."

"Hush, Lancelot."

"Yes, sire."

"Arthur, this is hardly the first time I've used magic," Merlin hisses and Arthur calmly tones out the servant's grating protests.

"We will return to Camelot at once – don't fret, Merlin, there's hardly a need to tell my father of this… unfortunate occurrence – and you may consult Gaius whether or not he can help you. And under no circumstances are you to reveal your magic to anyone else, do you understand? No prancing around in the courtyard levitating objects, no trying to impress the maidservants with any fancy highly illegal magic tricks, no illegal magical cheating on your chores, no trips to the tavern with Gwaine to explore any highly illegal magic tricks while drunk… No magic displays, is that clear?"

Merlin stares at him. "Why the hell would I reveal my magic to anyone in Camelot?"

Arthur doesn't grace him with an answer, and turns towards Lancelot instead. "And you, sir Lancelot," Arthur says and straightens his back. "You will not breathe a word to anyone about this. I want you to swear on your life and honour to not tell a living soul of Merlin's situation; do that, and you will have betrayed my trust."

By now, Lancelot's eyebrows have climbed higher than what should be humanly possible. "With all due respect, sire, I have no reason to betray a friend."

"Swear, sir Lancelot!"

"…I swear on my life and honour and everything I hold dear that I will not reveal Merlin's secret to anyone," the knight finally says, looking at Arthur as though he's not completely sane. Again Arthur, being the kind and lenient prince he is, decides to overlook the impudence. He is, after all, asking Lancelot (who is pretty much the definition of honour and such) to break the most fundamental law in Camelot.

"Excellent," Arthur says, pleased, before clapping them both on the shoulder and starting the journey back to Camelot. Between himself, Lancelot, and Gaius, he's certain they'll be able to help Merlin with his little magical mishap.

oOoOo

Merlin and Lancelot watch Arthur's retreating back and the knight gives the warlock an unsure look. "Is he… Is he serious about looking for a cure?"

Merlin shrugs and walks over to the unconscious sorcerer to poke him in the side. "Sadly, yes."

"And… what will we do with the sorcerer?" Lancelot asks.

"I figured we'd just leave him," Merlin says as he continuously uses the toe of his boot to poke the sorcerer. "It's not like anyone's going to wonder what happened to him. Besides, I doubt he'll try to kill anyone again."

They stand in silence for a few more seconds before Lancelot clears his throat and a smile tugs at his lips. "I fear I've thought too highly of you, Merlin. I've found your ability to stay alive in Camelot impressive, but apparently it's not as hard as I thought."

"Lancelot, I clean the crown prince's room with magic. I fight by the crown prince's side using magic. You're pretty much the only one who's noticed except for Gaius – I'm actually a bit impressed."

"…You enchanted my lance to burn bright blue," Lancelot remarks slowly, as though speaking to a child. "Not even Arthur could miss such a thing."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Merlin, no."

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