excuse me? i was dying

I Have Lovey Dovey Bitch Syndrome And It's Incurable

Life in Camelot was simpler then. Flowers turned up in every crack in the road, as spring settled into the misty eyes of the romanticized. Maidens swooned at every tournament, whose bosoms were appreciated by lords and ladies alike. The citizens underwent their heteronormative mating dances, and none were the wiser of any impending doom. The mirth was palpable. Few dared ask why some ladies were missing from the atmosphere, choosing instead to spend their late evenings walking together in the gardens and definitely not sword fighting.

"It's entirely unfair that Guinevere isn't a knight when she can fight better than her brother, a knight."

The fine Lady Morgana, who was wearing a cloth deemed no less revealing than a nightgown, was breathing hard as sweat fell onto her lip. Gideon was having a stroke.

His wrist trembled as he wrote. He considered how illegal it was to fantasize about the king's ward. It was tempting, and his young, hormone crippled mind didn't know much more but the slender wrist that confidently grasped the sword. Lady Morgana always seemed to have a sharp object in her hands.

A few feet away was a grinning Guinevere, who had just bested her lady in a duel. The setting sun was golden, and it shone a honey red onto her features. Her hair was up, but several curls were wild and loose around her face. Any self-respecting, women-inclined individual would cream their pants at the sight.

"My lady, I am honoured, but please do not terrify the poor boy. It's not his fault that the world revolves around...," she looked off into the sun, blowing a hair out of her face. Her lips curled in distaste, "...men."

Lady Morgana scoffed, twirling her sword around in an artistic display of both aptitude and attitude. It was a trick that the Pendragons were fond of. She knew now that she was Uther's daughter, as secrets were slippery things, but had only told those close to her. Gideon had sneaked himself into that umbrella by default.

"Arthur better be a good ass king." She meant it. She now knew she had a right to the throne, though only in theory, as Arthur was the 'once and future king' and all that. This didn't stop her from thinking of what she would do as Queen, certain laws she would adjust. There was so much more to fix than just the magic.

The maidservant raised her sword, and an eyebrow, "He will be."

They had no doubt in their Lord Pratdragon's growth as an individual. He was awfully nice these days.

........

"Arthur's been a real prat these days. I don't know what's gotten into him, but ever since I gave him flowers, he's been more... aggressive than usual. I've been running around the castle because he can't seem to make up his mind. 'Merlin, go', 'Merlin, stay', 'Merlin, why do you look so stupid, floundering about like a lame fawn!'"

His face was pulled up into a mocking smile, his eyebrows curled up from bright eyes. It was difficult to gauge if he was upset, because, despite his words patterned after a complaint, his face betrayed him. Wrinkles by his eyes, mouth twitching- Gideon would think he was holding back a laugh.

"You don't seem upset about it."

The two were in Gaius' quarters, sometime in the evening. They were counting down the minutes before Prince Arthur no doubt came personally to demand Merlin's presence.

He gave up a laugh that could've passed for an aborted sneeze. He came to the same conclusion, that Arthur was going to find him soon enough.

"It's so- I can't tell if he's enchanted or in love or just gone crazy. Sometimes he just stares at the wall, glaring." Gideon put his quill down and stared at him.