Like a Phoenix

13: raise the white flag

a/n: IM BACK BEECHES! I told you you'd have a new chapter this year heh... sorry for the long wait. Big big big thank yous to those who have stuck around long enough to see this next chapter! I've made it my New Years Resolution to complete the story this year.. fingers crossed. xoxo

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There were several concerns Merlin had upon bringing the druids to Camelot; many of which included the comfort levels among citizens of Camelot and druids alike. But what Merlin should have been worrying about was, as usual, himself. He was pretty sure his ears were permanently pink with embarrassment, and while normal and decent folks would have spared him and ignored this, he was unfortunately in the presence of the prattiest king that ever lived and a very blunt, if well-meaning, child with absolutely zero tact.

Arthur had been telling Amabel a story as they walked along lower town, allowing her to shop for her own dress for the banquet, as well as flowers and other decorations to make the celebration more welcoming. Perhaps a complete boondoggle, but the precocious seven-year-old lit up at the idea, so that had settled things. While walking, she asked him about the time that Merlin was gone— what did he do? Read reports, mostly. Who did he hang out with? The king doesn't 'hang out'. She gave him a look. Morgana, if the gods were feeling particularly vengeful that day. What kind of adventures did he go on without Merlin? There were no adventures without Merlin.

Amabel had cooed at that. Arthur sent a playful warning glare towards Merlin.

"Don't let all that go to your ears, alright?"

Merlin rolled his eyes, pretending the comment didn't grate at him. The mortifying part was it had all gone to his ears. He cursed the heat he could feel climbing and wished it were cold enough to wear a hat.

They passed a booth with beautifully colored ribbons, and Amabel squealed in excitement and stopped to finger the material. The seller bowed deeply to them and smiled.

"So," Amabel questioned, holding a magenta strip of cloth towards the sun, "is it true that you almost married a bunch of trolls?"

Arthur's eyebrows shot up. "I don't know," he said, turning to stare at Merlin. "Is it?"

Merlin didn't meet his eyes. "Not literally trolls... but close enough," he mumbled.

Arthur smirked. "What about them exactly did you find lacking? Was it their beauty and grace? Their profound riches?"

"Too much beauty," Amabel said gravely. She picked up another ribbon, this one a pale yellow. "Emrys is right. No one should have every—"

"Okay how about this one?" he cut in quickly, snatching the yellow from her hands and over to the seller. "How much do you want for it?"

The seller listed her price. Even as Arthur reached into his satchel for gold coins, Merlin could feel eyes burning into him.

A couple hours later, Amabel had a pretty outfit for the banquet, and Merlin had sore arms from carrying all the decor.

"You could help, you know," he grunted.

Arthur smirked. "I could, but we wouldn't want to waste all that work you did with the druids, would we? You know what happens if we don't keep up with training."

Amabel tilted her head at Arthur, looking innocent and curious— a deadly combination. "Do you think his new muscles make him look scrumptious?"

Arthur choked abruptly on his saliva, caught off guard and stumbling forward to gasp for breath. Merlin, face flaming, tried not to gasp when Arthur's hand caught Merlin's bicep to steady himself and gave an almost imperceptible squeeze.