A/N: I really don't have much of a plan. I don't know anything. I don't even know if I will continue this. If I did, it would be some misadventures and some clothes-stealing… Cracky stuff of the like. If you want me to and have a suggestion, let me know.

The problem was, there was a naked woman in Merlin's room.

Gwaine would of course simply laugh if Merlin were to tell him that, naturally, and ask where exactly the problem existed: was she unattractive?

So perhaps to say the problem was that there was a naked woman in Merlin's room was incorrect. After all, a woman was not a problem, simply a person. And her lack of clothes was probably natural; after all, women did not come with clothes. Those were acquired. Her location was… unfortunate. Gaius was just downstairs. And Merlin was not accustomed to having naked women in his room, anyway. Partly because Merlin had always lived with an older adult, partly because he had only gotten over his fear of girls several years ago (okay, a decade), and partly because Merlin wasn't really over Freya yet. Also, when did Merlin have time to make a lady friend? Yet that was still not the problem. (The lack of time to make a lady friend was a problem, sort of, but it wasn't this problem.)

Nor was the problem that she was unattractive, because she wasn't. The little of her figure that Merlin had seen before he had cried out and lifted his eyes towards her face was fine; she was thin (perhaps too thin in places) but well shaped. She had flawless, almost shiny skin, and golden hair that framed her face like a picture. It was too short to belong to anyone of any standing (or reputation, really), but it fit her thin, cunning face. Her eyes were dark, a little like Guinevere's… or Guinevere's father's… Which was fitting, considering he was her creator.

Yes, that was the problem.

The problem was that this naked woman wasn't supposed to be a woman at all. She had previously been, and most assuredly still should have been, a sword.

One moment Merlin had been sitting there on his bed, Excalibur in his lap as he wiped the blade and whispered magic words, hoping to speed the cleaning process. The next, he was throwing the sword away as it began to shimmer… And then erupted into a full-grown woman.

"Oh gods," Merlin said at once. "What have I done?"

The woman put her hands on her hips (or at least Merlin assumed that they rested on her hips; he did not look down to verify) and said, "Done? What do you mean?" Her voice was like metal ringing out against metal. Like a blacksmith's tools clanging. Loud, high, clear. But dangerous.

Merlin went pale. "This is bad," he said. "This is really bad."

"Bad?" she repeated. Then her brow furrowed. She looked like Arthur when he was worried. She moved her body, standing like a warrior. Merlin nearly fainted. "Is something attacking Camelot? Is there a battle?" She started for the door.

Merlin stepped in front of it.

"No," he said. "No, there isn't." His eyes started to drift down, and he closed them. This was ridiculous. "We need to get you clothes."

"Clothes?" Excalibur said in equal parts confusion and indignation. She had a serious echo effect going on there. "My sheath? While there is a battle on, a fine blade like me cannot be sheathed! I must fight."

"Um, no, we're gonna sheath you," Merlin said, diving for the raggedy blanket on his bed. He held it up, started to wrap it around her, and stopped when he realized he would have to touch her. Instead he held the blanket out awkwardly.

Excalibur stomped her foot adamantly. "At a time like this? Perfection like me cannot be covered!"

And it was at that exact moment that Merlin realized exactly how much trouble he had gotten himself into. There was no way this would end well.