King Arthur Pendragon liked many things about the modern world.

Plumbing. Minecraft. Tasers. French fries. Motorcycles. Those are, in his opinion, at the top of a long list of Very Good Things We Should Have Had Back In Camelot.

(Really, if he was going to prioritize, tasers would be first on the list. Their dungeon security could have almost existed if they'd had tasers.)

Some things, he could live without, like spam emails and food that stung of chemicals when it touched his skin. But mostly, this future of his former kingdom was good. He approved. Merlin had really kept the place up, and by place, he meant the planet. That had been a lot of responsibility, but he had managed it like a champion.

Well, anyone who'd seen him during his time as a servant in Camelot should have been able to predict that. Merlin had been able to get Arthur out of bed in the morning, reasonably on time, and actually dressed neatly and with enough food to stop him from executing his entire council and finding a newer, shorter-winded one to replace it just because he was hungry. There had also been the thing that he could literally demolish entire armies on his own.

Yeah, the planet was safe in Merlin's hands. Arthur only rarely doubted that fact.

Today was one of those days.

Arthur winced as another round of clicking and whirring began from downstairs, followed by a cheerful chirp and a grumbling hiss of aggravation that made all the lights flicker. This had been going on for nearly three hours.

''What is he trying to do?'' he asked Gwen, who was curled up on their bed, trying to ignore the noise by using earbuds. She took one out and frowned at him.

''Sorry, what?''

''What's Merlin doing to that poor piece of technology?''

''He's doing taxes and the printer won't stop printing his documentation double-sided.''

Arthur bit his lip thoughtfully. ''I don't suppose he'd consider just, you know, writing stuff down? With a pen?''

''Not on your life.''

''He's got magic, can't he just command it?''

The lights flickered alarmingly again and Gwen groaned. ''There goes the wifi, for the fifth time. I think that's what he's trying to do, Arthur. It just isn't working.''

A gleeful grin spread across Arthur's face. ''Who knew? The mightiest warlock ever to walk the earth, defeated by a common printer. I wonder if we'd had a few back in Camelot and thrown them at Morgana and Morgause, they'd have surrendered.''

Gwen rolled her eyes at him, but lovingly, and put her earbud back in.

''Hey, maybe the Purge wouldn't have even happened if my father had just shoved a printer at Nimueh when I was born,'' Arthur continued. ''How much money did we have now? I'm buying a printer-making workshop.''

''Company,'' Gwen corrected absently. ''And you could just buy shares, not an actual company we'd have to run.''

''I'll start with that.'' Arthur pulled out his phone. ''When the wifi comes back on.''

There was a crash from downstairs. Gwen pulled out one earbud and they both looked anxiously at the door.

''Do you think it would help if we bought him a new printer?'' Arthur suggested.

''I was thinking more of sneaking up behind him, hitting him over the head with something, and dragging him over to Sarah Jane's and asking Mr. Smith to do it,'' said Gwen. ''He could probably keep him there. Or we could just suggest that.''

There was another chirp, the sound of smashing glass, and then a highly localized but very loud boom of thunder. This was followed by a very soft but intense string of curses. (The normal kind, not the magical kind.)

''What happened?'' Gwen asked. Arthur went to the window, opened it, and leaned out, trying to see around the corner of the house.

''I'm not sure. Nothing's wrong outside — whoops! Merlin just threw what's left of the printer out the door. It's melted.''

Gwen sighed. Arthur pulled his head back in and sighed. He picked up his wallet. ''I'll go buy him a new one.''

''Arthur,'' Gwen called when he was almost at the door. ''I think we should make it a royal edict that Merlin doesn't have to pay taxes when we get Camelot back.''

''Yes. Agreed. Has my seal of approval,'' Arthur said vehemently.

''He does enough for us anyway,'' they said together, and smiled at each other.

Downstairs, a very grumpy warlock was picking at the plastic melted into his floor. He hadn't meant to lose his temper so far with the infernal thing, but his magic reacted strongly with his emotions and now his printer was a twisted block of plastic, courtesy of a personal lightning strike.

''Hey, Merlin,'' came Arthur's voice. ''Let's go get a new printer. I never liked that one anyway.''

Merlin smiled.