Merlin returned to Camelot with the expectation that Arthur's feelings towards magic might have softened somewhat. Perhaps he and Arthur could arrange some sort of distress signal Arthur could use to summon Merlin from his cave to Camelot in times of need, and perhaps one day, years from now, after some action of particularly brave and useful service, Merlin might be asked to stay. He did not think that the rest of Camelot would be so easy to persuade.

He had not taken the bards into account.

Merlin was a great favourite of the bards now, because of the events in Nemeth. Not only had a ridiculously long satire been written by Nemeth's master bard about Merlin telling off all of Nemeth's princes and lords, but since he had visited the bard's mansion, it seemed that every bard in Nemeth had some story to tell of his exploits in their land. The fight with the bandits had taken on epic proportions, and Merlin's journey into the land of the dead, which Merlin guessed Sir Gregory must have told a bard about, became a song with a hauntingly beautiful melody that spoke so highly of Merlin as to make him seem to almost be a god. The story of Merlin raising the "ghost" of Nemeth's late king to point the finger at his murderous brother, who just happened to be king at the time, became one of the most requested songs in all the taverns.

As it happened, the Nemeth was famous for its bards, and they often travelled to other lands, including Camelot.

And, so, suddenly, Merlin was a famous Warlock. The bards spoke of him as wise, and stern, and powerful beyond measure, but they also spoke of him as good. Merlin was surprised to find that when he returned to Camelot, most of the regular people he met in the lower town greeted him as a hero. Even the guards and knights looked at him with thinly veiled admiration.

And somehow Merlin had expected that Arthur could come through a few months without him unharmed, seeing as how he was now king and kept mostly safe in his castle with plenty of knights protecting him.

He had not taken the pixies into account.

Merlin first learned of the pixies from Gaius, who had recovered from his illness quite well, although it had held on for a bit longer than expected.

Merlin and Gaius were sitting at Gaius's kitchen table. Gaius had heated up some stew, and it was very much like old times.

"When did the pixies first arrive?" Merlin asked.

"Arthur and his knights came back from a hunting trip about a fortnight ago, and it seems the pixies followed them home," Gaius said.

"Why do you think they would do that?" Merlin asked.

"I do not know. At first they seemed helpful. They are not like the Sidhe—or at least not like the ones we've met. They would help people with their chores if shown the slightest bit of kindness," Gaius said.

"They help people with chores? I don't see the problem with that," Merlin said, grinning.

"No, you wouldn't," Gaius said in his least approving voice. "However, if you give a pixie a sweet and they do your chores for you, what do you do with the rest of your day?"

"I don't know. Relax?" Merlin said.

"Most people decided to drink mead and cause mischief," Gaius said.

"Which I am sure the pixies were only too pleased to help out with," Merlin guessed.

"Indeed," Gaius said. "However, it was a sennight ago that it all went even more wrong. King Arthur finally found out why his people were suddenly so shiftless and mischievous, and the taverns were full all day long."

"And I suppose he didn't take it well," Merlin guessed.

"No indeed. He made a law that any citizen who allowed anyone, pixie or person, to do their work for them, could not be paid for it—even if it was a potato from his own garden," Gaius said.

"How would he know?" Merlin asked.

Gaius looked at Merlin grimly. "Pixie dust does not wash off," he said shortly. He continued with his tale, "So everyone stopped slogging off their chores on the pixies, and consequently stopped giving the pixies sweets and other favours."

"And that upset them?"

"You've no idea," said Gaius. "They've been a very plague. They turn up plants in gardens and leave them to rot, spoil the milk, scare the horses, pick up small children and put them on the roof of their house…no one has died, but it's probably only a matter of time."

"That's terrible," Merlin said, trying to keep a straight face. He failed, laughing at some of the images Gaius had described.

"It's no laughing matter," Gaius said, but Merlin could see the corners of his mouth were reluctantly beginning to turn upwards, and then he began laughing, too.

Gaius's door opened without warning, and suddenly Arthur was in the room.

Any remaining laughter was cut off abruptly.

Arthur looked at Merlin grimly. "I see this is how seriously you take your banishment. You simply walk into the castle, greeting guards in a friendly manner and sit down for some stew with your old friend."

"I told you I'd come back whenever I wanted. It seems I should have come back a bit sooner," Merlin said, smiling slightly.

"You think my castle being corrupted by magic is funny? I blame you for this," Arthur said.

"Me? I wasn't even here," Merlin said indignantly.

"These tales of your exploits in Nemeth have my people thinking that magic is wonderful and good. They think they can associate with these pixies without any disaster falling down around their heads," Arthur snapped.

"The way I heard the story told, it was you who brought the pixies back here from a hunting trip," Merlin said derisively.

Arthur seemed deflated by Merlin's argument and dragged a chair from across the room to the small table where Gaius and Merlin were sitting. "It was," Arthur said, his voice dejected.

"How did you manage that?" Merlin asked, barely managing to keep the laughter out of his voice.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "You know me well enough to know how I get myself into these kinds of things. We went pretty far away to hunt this time, and the land was somewhat unfamiliar. There was this grove that all the local hunters refused to enter, because there was supposed to be little green people there, and all the game was theirs. I didn't listen."

"At least you didn't kill a unicorn," Merlin said.

"Merlin, can you stay here and help us?" Arthur said. "I think the people will understand the need for at least one person in the kingdom that can perform magic after this episode."

"So you won't bring magic back to the kingdom, but you'll keep me around to fight it?" Merlin asked, oddly disappointed, even though it was more than he had hoped for.

"I thought that's what you wanted," Arthur said. He rose, straightening his clothes. "I understand from the bards that it's rare for you not to get what you want."

Merlin didn't like his tone. It wasn't friendly, and it was evident that Arthur hadn't forgotten Merlin's earlier deception. "I take it you will use my skills in matters of great need, and try to ignore my existence for the rest of the time," he said.

"We're no longer friends, Merlin. I'm not saying we can't ever be friends again, but the fact is, that you are not who you said you were. I don't know you at all," Arthur said.

"I have always tried to be a friend to you, Arthur. I'm sorry that I had to lie to you to do it," Merlin said.

Arthur crossed his arms impatiently. He obviously felt Merlin should be gratefully running around collecting pixies, not defending himself to Arthur. "Well? What can you do about the pixies?"

"I don't know," Merlin said, looking at Gaius. "I'm sure you've done the research. Is there some way to use magic to persuade them to leave?"

"I don't want them to leave, I want them dead," Arthur said viciously.

"I suspect it's not even possible to kill them," Gaius said. "I did find reference to a spell that is supposed to make fairy-folk itch. If they itched around Camelot, they might not come back."

"And that is to be Camelot's response to being terrorised for weeks? The creatures at fault might get a little itchy?" Arthur asked dryly.

"Did you have a better idea, Arthur?" Merlin asked. He waited but Arthur made no reply. He turned to Gaius. "How do I do this spell, exactly?"

"I don't know. I only know the name of it," Gaius said. "I have no spell books, only reference books."

Merlin's eyes lit up. "You should see all the spell books I have! Mithian gave me about ten of them when I left Nemeth. They're amazing! Years of knowledge in the fields of—" Merlin glanced at Arthur and cut himself off. He got up and walked over to his saddle bag, and took out some spell books. He placed them on the table and then focused his attention on them, looking for a spell to make fairies itch. One of them opened on its own and Merlin began reading.

"I do not think you should use magic in such a frivolous way," Arthur said stiffly.

"Oh, don't be such a prig," Merlin said distractedly. He was trying to focus on the spell in front of him. "You either want me to do magic or you don't."

"Perhaps I don't," Arthur said.

Merlin paused, and looked up from the book. "I've always used magic to help me with tedious chores. If I hadn't, I probably would have thrown myself off the battlements out of sheer boredom when I was your servant. It never hurt either of us. I know it's hard for you to see me casually do magic, but trust me. I wouldn't do any magic that was dangerous; not without good reason."

"That's just it," Arthur said. "I can't trust you."

Merlin didn't bother replying, and Arthur left the room. If Arthur didn't believe Merlin had proven his loyalty at this point, then what exactly would it take?