"So, what are you going to show us, Merlin? I'm expecting something girly," Arthur couldn't resist teasing the servant.

"Is this what you have in mind, Sire? Your wish is my command." A kaleidoscope of multicoloured butterflies fluttered around the king before landing all over his head and arms. A particularly beautiful, large, red specimen took its time, weaving a graceful dance back and forth, finally settling into a comfortable resting place on the bridge of the king's nose. Arthur shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the visitors, but they would not be moved.

"Merlin! Get them off!" he shouted.

The warlock leaned back against the tree trunk and stretched out his legs in a leisurely fashion. "Ask nicely," he smirked.

"Merlin! I'm warning you!"

The chortles of the knights grew louder, and seeing that the king was becoming apoplectic, the warlock took pity on him, sending the butterflies away with a wave of his hand.

"Humph!" said the king, "Very amusing! But next time, we need something more...significant. Something that we can show to the people to convince them of the benefits of magic."

"No pressure, then," the warlock quipped. "I will discuss it with Mordred on the journey back, My Lord, and we will be sure to come up with something that meets with your approval."

This brought the queen to Arthur's mind. "Yes, we should be getting back soon," he said. "Gwen will be worried."

Merlin's thoughts turned to Gaius, and how much he would have to tell him. He could hardly wait. The physician was sure to be both surprised and delighted by his news. The knights were also eager to return home, so it was decided they would leave at first light. Arthur, wishing to take the opportunity to check on the welfare of more of his subjects, chose to return by a different route. His claim to know the area was again proved correct, as he led them unerringly through hamlets and villages dotted through the mountains.

They encountered no problems until they reached the village of Claydor. There they were greeted by the sight of a procession of villagers carrying heavy receptacles of water up a very steep hill. An elderly woman, who was struggling to breathe, collapsed to the ground under the weight of her burden, dropping the bucket and spilling the contents. Tears of frustration rolled down her cheeks. The party from Camelot rushed to her assistance. Sir Leon and Sir Percival helped her to her feet, while Sir Gwaine went to refill the bucket from the stream below. The king stopped one of the other inhabitants and questioned him intently. Then he called all the knights and Merlin to him.

"Their well is contaminated," he told them. "Those who drank the water died. We must do what we can to help."

"Build them a new one, you mean?"

The king stared at the warlock. "Merlin, they need the water now."

"So, let Mordred and me build it. (1) We can do it quickly. And we can put a protective spell on it, to stop the same thing happening again."

Arthur hesitated. He began to perceive that his father's policy of spreading fear and suspicion of all things magical could have unfortunate repercussions. "It's a good idea, but will they accept a well built by magic?"

"They will when they see you drink from it first," Merlin responded.

Arthur nodded. "Alright," he said. "But is there anything you need? Tell me if there's something we can do to help."

"Thank you, Sire, but we can handle it," Merlin replied. He had yearned for so long for a chance to prove what magic could achieve, that now it had presented itself, he was determined to take it. Arthur read his mind.

"I have faith in you," he said. "Both of you." He slipped an arm around each of them, and gave them an encouraging hug. "I know you can do this. Good luck."

The sorcerers were elated at this mark of royal approbation. Merlin's shining eyes were a testament to his feelings, but Mordred spoke with the earnest intensity of youth. "Thank you, My Lord. We won't let you down, I promise you." The knights shook their hands and wished them good fortune, before going to inform the villagers of what was about to happen. Gwaine lingered for longer, clapping them heartily on the back and offering his support.

A small crowd had gathered by the time the sorcerers had chosen their spot. They watched in fascination as Merlin grasped Mordred's hand. "Open your mind," he said, "and I'll show you what we are going to do." He sent him the image telepathically. "This is what it will look like. We'll start with the shaft." The sorcerers' eyes glowed gold, and the ground shook beneath their irresistible force. A hole began to appear at their feet. The tunnel burrowed deeper and deeper into the earth, until it found its target. They lined the shaft with stones, and then released their protective charms simultaneously. A series of dazzling blue and purple sparks shimmered and floated down into the water. A collective gasp was heard, as more rocks materialized out of thin air and were arranged around the hole, the sorcerers taking turns to seal each layer in place. A tiled roof, in attractive Pendragon red, was fixed atop supporting beams and pillars. Merlin smiled in satisfaction as a thick pole, covered in rope, was installed into position to draw the water. He made the handle a matching vibrant red, and turned to his companion. "What shall we name it, Mordred? You choose." Mordred smiled, and the legend "King Arthur's Well", scripted in golden letters, adorned the newly erected sign, with the crest of the Pendragons emblazoned beside it.

" Nice touch," Merlin approved. "They will remember they have the protection of their king." A thought occurred to him, and he called the king. "Sire, would you do the honours, please?"

Arthur had been watching his men with a mixture of pride and sadness. He realized that he must lose them; that he must set them free and allow them to be who they truly were. Mordred was a promising knight, but Arthur had never seen him look as happy and fulfilled as he did now. As for Merlin himself, it would be a wrench to part with his services as manservant, but Arthur recognized that he was in the presence of greatness. "It will be my pleasure, Merlin," he said, stepping forward to draw the first bucket from the well. Filling the goblet Merlin had given him, he drank deeply before proclaiming, "I declare this well open!" The villagers clapped and cheered, and the knights rushed to congratulate their friends. Celebratory goblets were soon shared all around. Sir Gwaine, who would rather have been imbibing a different sort of beverage, was delighted to find that his water tasted of mead. Speechless, he turned to the warlock, who merely winked in response.

Their mission completed, the group soon departed, after accepting the renewed thanks and good wishes of the villagers. On the journey home, Arthur called the sorcerers to him, to discuss his ideas and hopes for the future. Merlin was overwhelmed by this complete reversal of fortune and the accomplishment of all his dreams. Yet there was still a cloud on the horizon, as he wrestled with the problem of Mordred's destiny. The boy deserved to know, and no good could come of secrets and lies, as Merlin was only too aware, but he could not bring himself to do it. It would be too crushing a blow, and he wasn't sure Mordred would be able to cope with it. The danger wasn't imminent, in any case, as Mordred bore the king no malice, and seemed to feel only love and respect for him. The greatest risk was that it could happen by accident, but even that seemed less likely now, in view of Arthur's plans. Merlin resolved to remain vigilant, while offering the boy his friendship. Once he had Mordred's trust and confidence, he would be better able to judge when the time was right.

They reached the citadel, and the first task was to apprise Gwen and Gaius of the news. Having made his decision, Arthur sent the knights to summon the citizens to the courtyard, as he wished to make his announcement without delay. Once the people were gathered, the king and queen appeared on the balcony, flanked by Merlin and Mordred, who were wearing the blue cloaks of the new Department of Magic. The king held up a hand to call for silence. A solitary dove flew overhead, and it seemed to Merlin that the gods themselves were smiling as Arthur spoke.

"Magic is welcome in Camelot."

THE END

(1) Special thanks to caldera32 for the idea of the well building.