The Hilarious Aversion of a Crisis

Only the matter comes up again almost the minute Merlin gets permission to limp around without crutches. Merlin tries to beg his way onto a hunting expedition, and when that doesn't work, he moans incessantly about discrimination against cripples with war wounds until Arthur lets him come along (it's a sign of how bored Merlin is in the palace that he actually wants to go hunting; he hates hunting every bit as much as Arthur hates books). He volunteers to try to flush out their quarry and vanishes between the trees as the knights take positions.

They proceed to wait. And continue waiting. For almost a full fifteen minutes, at which point Arthur's paranoia wins out over the fact that Merlin hasn't made any sounds to indicate distress. He signals Lancelot forward and matches his pace from the other side of their human net, eyes peeled for a telltale sign of his idiot.

He finds Merlin in absolutely no distress at all. Granted, Arthur himself feels very disturbed. Merlin is on his feet in front of a pearly white unicorn, letting it nuzzle his hand and… giggling.

Arthur's crossbow falters in midair. Yes, he knew Merlin was a girl, but not quite to this extent. Across the clearing, he sees a flash of Lancelot's equally bewildered expression.

Merlin strokes along the unicorn's sides, chattering happily to it like it can understand him. He looks ridiculous. Arthur would suspect enchantment, but Merlin always looks ridiculous.

And then out of the underbrush comes another one. Equally white as the driven snow, perhaps a little bigger. It lowers its horn like it's about to gore Merlin—Arthur fumbles for his crossbow—and it very gently prods Arthur's newest knight in the side until Merlin turns around and pets it too.

By the time the rest of the hunting party gets tired of waiting and follow them to see what's holding them up, Lancelot and Arthur are gaping at Merlin, who is surrounded by five unicorns, all of which are nuzzling and whickering at him, lipping his cloak, and glowing. Merlin has apparently forgotten about the hunting party entirely. Arthur has never seen any creatures match Merlin's propensity for cuddling before. Not in his life.

Enough of this. "Merlin!" He calls, which makes his knight jump about a foot in the air and whip his head guiltily in Arthur's direction. Arthur crashes out of his hiding place, profoundly annoyed, and Merlin's eyes go wide. He waves his hand frantically.

"Don't shoot!"

Arthur rolls his eyes, intent on shoving the unicorns out of the way to drag Merlin back to his side. He doesn't have to, as it turns out; they scatter like leaves, eyes rolling, tossing their heads. As Lancelot follows Arthur down, one of them rears and the lot of them canter away as though Lancelot waved a torch in their faces. Lancelot. Who is probably the most non-threatening human being Arthur knows.

Yes, even more than Merlin. Merlin might be skinnier than a teenage girl, but he has a slightly deranged smile that always makes people think he's planning ill.

Lancelot pauses, and he has the presence of mind to stick an arm out to catch Galahad before he can get any closer. He eyes Merlin, who is looking longingly after the unicorns—quickly making themselves scarce in the woods from whence they came. Good, Arthur thinks—and asks with concern, "Are you alright?"

"They were," Merlin says wistfully, "The most beautiful creatures I've ever seen in my life."

"Would have been nice to bring a unicorn horn back to my father," Arthur grumbles, annoyed that they have wasted half an hour hunting nothing. And also by the fact that Merlin, who criticizes everything Arthur does with single-minded insolence, is apparently overwhelmed by the greatness of a horned horse. Arthur thinks this is typical.

Merlin successfully punches him in the stomach. It doesn't hurt. "No," Merlin scolds.

"Why did they run away?" Galahad seems to have turned into a girl over the creatures as well. Perfect. Merlin's stupidity is now contagious. "We weren't going to harm them."

"Speak for yourself," Arthur mutters, and this time catches Merlin's hand before it can connect. He aims a stern look at his captive, who rolls his eyes and ignores him.

"It would have been nice to take one back to Camelot as a pet," Gwaine suggests, because Gwaine is an idiot.

"That wouldn't be possible," Lancelot says tactfully, he's eying Merlin again. "They were only going to let Merlin close."

Arthur blinks. "…Why?"

"Well," Lancelot fidgets. Merlin is now staring back at him, watching him get flustered with apparent unease. Not unkindly, Lancelot manages, "Because only virgins can go near a unicorn."

The whole company of knights goes quiet. Deathly, deathly quiet. Largely, Arthur thinks, because of the murderous intent currently radiating off his newest knight.

"Don't laugh," Merlin says. "I am friends with the Camelot's entire kitchen staff and they will poison your breakfasts if I say but a word."

Naturally, they all burst out roaring and it takes days for Arthur to coax Merlin out of his sulk. Where he proceeds to beat half of them up on the training field with what Arthur darkly refers to as 'luck' and what Gwaine admiringly deems 'mischief'. No one is quite sure how Merlin does it, but they end up very bruised and he ends up smug and in a much better mood.

There is no gossip about the youngest knight being a virgin. Arthur personally had a talk with the knights as soon as Merlin stormed off. It was all well and good to laugh about it in private, but if this became a matter of public humiliation, Arthur was going to have them in the stocks until the end of time. No one felt particularly inclined to test the prince's affection for Merlin.

But this isn't the end of it either. Because by the next week there are sightings of a dragon and the knights of Camelot ride out against it.

And Merlin gets kidnapped again.

-

90% of me is still on hiatus, but the rest has gone so full circle with procrastination that I ended up back on here. You're welcome.