Day Eleven is Merlin crack.

[ciircee]

This is not actually the crack that I meant to write at all. Orz. The one I wanted to write would have needed pictures. Lots of pictures. And it woudl have killed dial-up. Also: Taken more time than I had. Sorry, Meg! I will get to it someday? Because I love you and find you to be genius?

One more 'day' left!


Courtship in Camelot

Merlin did not keep a journal which meant that he especially did not keep a diary. And even if he HAD it wouldn't have been filled with tripe about Arthur. Merlin thought that the first fact alone should have been reason enough for everybody to doubt the veracity of 'the Merlin Missives' that were floating about the castle (and most of Camelot proper).

"Why, for the love of god, would I fill pages with nothing but the words 'Arthur is SO KAKKOI'? What sort of word IS that, really, Gaius?" Merlin asked, shaking a handful of papers at Gaius. They were crinkled, wrinkled, and stained after having been, very obviously, passed around a great deal.

Gaius tipped Merlin a look over the top of one of his medical tomes. "Merlin," he said patiently. "You and I both know very well that 'kakkoi' is a spell-word for 'cool'."

"I do not think Arthur is hot!"

Gaius closed his eyes. "Merlin."

"This is embarrassing. It's embarrassing. This whole mess is embarrassing. Mortifying!" Merlin said, pacing the room.

"If you keep scratching at an itch, it only becomes worse," Gaius counseled.

"Is THAT what some of those other pages say?" Merlin demanded. "I don't have a rash! Anywhere!"

"Merlin? Why don't you bring this tincture to Lady Iblis? Now."




"Gwen! Gwen, I would never call Lancelot a…" Merlin checked the page in his hand—the one he'd just snatched from the cook's assistant. "A 'hairy goat-son'. And I was NOT happy when he sent himself packing. Arthur wasn't going to sack him anyway! Gwen! Come on, Gwen!"



"Arthur," Merlin said, buffing a scratch out of Arthur's left boot, "You've got to stop writing fake diary entries and passing them 'round and saying that they're mine."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Merlin," Arthur said, turning a page in the book he was reading.

Merlin glared at the boot, severely tempted to lead the fire out of the fireplace and over to Arthur's conveniently close foot. "Begging your indulgence, Sire," he said tightly, "but the entire court has been laughing for the past fortnight."

Arthur glanced up. "Oh, you mean your epic and obvious desire to be close to me?"

"I know it's you, Arthur. Every 'entry' that's turned up has been about you! The last one was about your eyes. Do you know humiliating that is?"

"It IS a little embarrassing how very devoted you are to that subject, yes. Even I think three pages was a bit much."

"You are a royal prat, did you know that? An epic and obvious royal prat."

"Where are you going?"

"To tell Gwen how very much I hate you in order that I don't kill you."

"As if you could."



"Gwen!" Merlin caught her outside the grand hall. "Gwen, even under torture I would not call you a whore! And I certainly do not love Arthur better than you! You have to believe me! I love you, Gwen!"

"Not like that!" Gwen insisted to the passing knights. "He really, really doesn't mean like that."

"Better you than Arthur," Merlin muttered.

"Not if you're me," Gwen replied.



"MERLIN."

"What?!" Merlin nearly brained himself on Gaius' work bench as he quickly threw his spell book under a loose board. "I mean, yes? Lady Morgana?" He blinked as a pile of papers fluttered down in front of him.

High summer:
Lady Morgana incred. hag to His Highness, Lord Arthur. Obv. Uther favors her unduly as went unpunished.

Revenged my sweet Lord by putting rat inside Lady Hag's fave. dressing gown. Ha! Am sure to rec. kind look from Prince Arthur tomorrow when I relate story to him. Wish I could say unto him how it is my doing but am far too shy to confess self so boldly.

Arthur, my dearest master, may I serve you forever!

"I didn't write it, I swear," Merlin skittered back, tumbling to sit heavy on his rump as Morgana took a menacing step closer. "You know I think he's a pain!"

Morgana folded her arms, looking regal and imposing. "Merlin Emrys, you will put a stop to Arthur's insane attempts to—to—" she threw up her hands suddenly, "or so help me, Merlin, I will. Is that clear?"

"As crystal, my Lady," Merlin gulped. The fact that he'd spent the better part of the last month trying to think of a way to make Arthur stop didn't matter. Before it had been Merlin's pride and now it was at the point of being his life. "I shan't let you down."

Morgana nodded and then smiled. "Then I put my faith in you," she said, sweeping out. She paused at the door. "And you might want to get Arthur to open his wardrobe tonight. Or wear a really heavy apron when you do."

"Yes, m'Lady."



"GWEN! Gwen. Guinevere. Help me."

"I'm not after having the entire city think that I'll let you get away with being half mad for me, Merlin. I don't care that you're embarrassed by things with Arthur."

"I'll ask your hand from your father if you don't!"



"I'm just saying," Gwen said loftily as she moved through the kitchen, collecting Morgana's afternoon tea, "that it can't be Merlin writing them. Have you seen his handwriting? It's chicken-scratch on paper."

"But who else knows their days even half so well?" One of the mill's delivery boys asked.

"Not to be gossiping, but that's my feeling," the gardener said, bringing in a basket of fruit. "After all, it's only with piecing together that anybody can verify those events. The washing girl had it off the butcher's lad about the hunt. And wasn't it only the night before last that the stable hands found two horses gone what returned just after the moon-set with the prince and Merlin leading them together? It can only be one or the other of them."

"I'll not say it's the prince," Gwen said idly, "but he has beautiful writing. Merlin's is completely illegible. The fact that it can be read is telling…" she trailed off meaningfully.



"Merlin?"

"Arthur?" Merlin asked, gritting his teeth.

Scratch, scratch, scratch went Arthur's pen over the parchment on his table. "Did you know Gwen tried to convince people it was me writing those disgustingly sappy odes to my royal dignity rather than you?"

"Imagine that," Merlin said dryly, "somebody caring about the truth."

"Hmm," said Arthur. "What do you think—cobalt or ocean-blue?"

"Your eyes?" Merlin bit out. "They're narrow and untrustworthy. Cruel, I've heard used," Merlin answered. "And your hair is a sort of dirty dish-water blond, if you're asking."

Arthur turned and smirked at him. "My new dinner jacket. The tailors have sent some new fabrics for inspection. I rather already knew your opinion on my looks. Summer wheat, golden honey, the sky at noon, the river at dusk…"

"If you don't shut up I'm going to invite you to do something very private in a very public place at a very well-trafficked time with a very inappropriate fixture," Merlin told him.

"Merlin," Arthur sighed heavily, "I did try to avoid recalling your sordid little fantasy about yourself, myself, and the stocks."

Merlin put his face in his hands. "Come over, Arthur," he sighed. "Aren't we friends?" For a moment there was no sound and then Merlin heard Arthur stand up from his writing table and cross the room, coming to a stop in front of him. He looked up. "Could you just please stop before your father has me killed or your cousin emasculates me completely? Gaius can't hold his head up in polite company anymore, you know. Please stop?"

Arthur crouched down and looked him in the eye. "I'm fairly certain that the latest digest said it would only stop once you'd given yourself to me completely." He patted Merlin on the knee. "Good luck stopping yourself, then."

"I'm going to be killed because you're a prat."

"I'd say instead that it's because you're an idiot," Arthur said cheerfully. "Now, cobalt or ocean-blue, Merlin?"




"Arthur?"

"Morgana."

"If you don't stop publicly flirting with your manservant I will tell your father."

"I'm not flirting with Merlin.

"End it by nightfall or your father will hear it over dinner, Arthur."

"There's nothing to—Morgana, come back here! Morgana!"




"Oh, what now, Arthur?" Merlin cried as Arthur stormed into his room and dropped a ream of paper on the floor. "We both know it's not mMRFPH!"

"Mmm."

"Good lord, Arthur that was your tongue in my mMRPH!"




"Morgana?" Gwen draped Morgana's cloak over her shoulders and fussed at the hem.

"Yes, Gwen?" Morgana smiled her thanks and turned back to watching the midnight stars.

"Wasn't it a bit risky to give Arthur the pages that you wrote? Won't he recognize your writing?" Gwen folded her hands with a small shrug. "I could have got to it after the evening meal."

"You've more than done your part, dear Gwen," said Morgana, leaning against the parapet. "Maybe once he gets over the rather shocking nature of the text, perhaps he might but somehow I don't imagine so."

In silence they both looked at the guttering light still lighting Merlin's window. "You'd think one of them would have thought to blow out the candles, wouldn't you," Gwen observed.

"One would think," Morgana agreed. "The better side of this is that at least everybody won't wonder why the diary has stopped."

Comments

[fishwrites.livejournal.com]

Dear lord, this is probably the most awesome thing I've read in a week.

And i've been readin non-stop this week. :D
]

Could I possibly do a podfic of this? <3

[still-ciircee.livejournal.com]

I'm really glad you liked it! And of course you can do a podfic of it. You've made my day.

[xbriyeon.livejournal.com]

a year late, but this was hilarious. ♥♥