Summary: Roughly eight months after the events in the series 3 finale Camelot seems to have settled down, but behind the scene tensions are rising. Arthur has been effectively ruling the realm while Uther has been suffering from shock and the aftermath of the traumatic experiences Morgana's betrayal had given him. Or has he? What does the King know of his son's doings, and, what's more important, what does he think of them?

Arthur believes the visit of his Aunt Matilda, Comtesse d'Auvergne and her son Hortensius Pendragon will help his father to get over things. However, what begins as a harmless, if somewhat annoying family visit quickly turns into something more sinister. As Arthur's construct of lies and pretences, thought to protect Uther from getting even worse, begins to tumble, some begin to fear that his own father might become the worst enemy the Crown Prince of Camelot ever had - and the most lethal one.

Loyalties and affections are tested to the limits when Camelot has to make up her mind whom she should follow in future - father or son?

Both Pendragons change their ways decisively, finding new enemies they would never have thought of, as well as new allies in the most unlikely places. Friends become foes while enemies suddenly appear to be friends but at the end of the day it seems as if the King is holding all the cards. It may well be that a Prince's and a warlock's destiny will find a shameful end on a scaffold that sports a Dragon-banner in the colours red and gold ...

1. The great entry

"My, aren't we high and mighty" Merlin whistled softly through his teeth while he looked out of Arthur's window. "Is this an escort or an invasion army? So far I count 10 knights and, wait... 30 guard soldiers all in all. Isn't it a bit showy to bring an escort that outnumbers the host's castle guard?"

Behind him Gwen craned her neck to have a peep of her own at the events in the yard. "Is this the Comte?"

"I should think so" Merlin replied. "He looks the perfect aristocratic prat." His opinion of the elderly Lady on the creamy white palfrey he wisely kept to him self. Especially the opinion of her tarted up dress.

"Merlin! You should not say such things. You do not even know him" Guinivere said dutifully. Unfortunately her own curiosity made her virtually dance around her friend to have a better look at things which spoiled her air of moral superiority somewhat.

"Look at that armour, Gwen. Is that really gold on this breast plate? Who on earth would use such a soft metal on armour? And this coat. I swear that's pure silk. In sea-green. Ridiculous."

Gwen gazed at him most punitively. "After more than three years as a Prince's manservant even you should be able to distinguish a dress armour from an armour fit to wear in a fight." Now in a more comfortable position behind the window pane she scrutinized the newcomers more thoroughly. "For sure, Arthur hasn't got anything like this in his chests" she said, frowning. "And the knights of his escort! Are those real bird feathers on their helmets?"

"Does make perfect sense, doesn't it?" Merlin said, chuckling menacingly. "A bunch of bombastic cockerels and one fat hen to accompany a strutting peacock."

He made a face while he watched Camelot's Crown Prince greeting the guests on the steps to the great hall. "Whatever for does the idiot slap Arthur's shoulder? Shouldn't he at least bow to his host? Last time I checked he was a mere Count or whatever they call someone like him in Gaul. Why Arthur insisted on waiting for them outside instead of receiving them in the throne room is beyond me anyway."

"You are getting very grand, My Lord" Gwen said mockingly. "He may be the Comte d'Auvergne but he is the only son of King Uther's sister, and the Comtesse is Arthur's aunt after all..."

…."And her son is Arthur's cousin and a member of the royal house of Pendragon and so on and so forth – spare me the lecture, Gwen, I already got it from Arthur. Although I still do not even begin to understand why this fellow should be a Pendragon in the first place. All right, he's the son of Uther's sister who married a so called Count somewhere on the continent. But shouldn't he be the son of Uther's brother in order to share the Pendragon family name?"

"The right to give the Pendragon name and its royal rank to her son was part of the Lady Matilda's dowry contract. Don't tell me that Arthur didn't spell this out for you" Gwen replied. "Anyway, since when are you so fond of aristocratic genealogy and its protocols?"

"Since Morgana's temporarily accession to the throne made me realize the importance of the going-ons in royal beds and cradles" Merlin stated, only to bite his lower lip in remorse. The betrayal of her former mistress and best friend was still painful to Gwen, as he well knew.

Hastily he tried to cover up his blunder. "I still don't see why you have to move out of Arthur's quarters just because this oaf in shiny armour and his preposterous mother show up. They haven't even entered the castle and already Arthur is going out of his way for them and you..." He shrugged angrily. "It has been eight months now since we retook Camelot from Morgause" - no use mentioning Morgana again - "and no one, absolutely no one objected to you moving in here, not even Sir Leon or any of the other knights. They all accept what you are to the Crown Prince, so why can't this supercilious bunch of would-be royalty just do the same?"

"Because our Prince hasn't told his father anything about us" she said, the faculty of reason while she collected the rest of her things. "The King has no idea that in effect his son is running the Kingdom and the army. Most of all, he surely does not know that his heir and a handmaiden are together. And for obvious reasons Arthur wants to keep it that way. Uther still is a very sick man, every shock or tension could kill him or finish off his sanity. You know all that, Merlin."

"I still can't see what this has to do with these crooning birds in borrowed feathers out there" the warlock stubbornly insisted.

Smiling radiantly she came closer to him and pecked a quick kiss on his cheek, stifling a laughter when he backed away as if he had been burned, wiping his face frantically with both hands. "Hey, what was that for? Aren't you supposed to save your kisses for somebody else?"

"I couldn't help myself, you are so very sweet, Merlin. I know you have given this same earful to Arthur many times, and all for nothing. The Countess-Dowager Matilda and Monseigneur Hortensius Pendragon, Comte d'Auvergne are here on Uther's invitation. The King is very fond of them, Arthur wants this visit to be a respite for his father and as his dear kin are very nosy as well as horrible gossip-mongers, we will all go back to our former lives until they leave."

"Hortensius!" her friend said sarcastically. "Who in his right mind would name a child Hortensius?"

"Actually it's even worse. Hortensius Godfrey Beccasius Malfren Pendragon is his full name. Which made for 'Becco' when he was a kid." Quickly she unloaded a part of her stuff into Merlin's arms. "So you better don't forget: You are Arthur's manservant, I am just one of the serving girls, our unaristocratic knights Alean, Gwaine and Lancelot are on their best aristocratic behaviour – and as far away from Uther as is humanly possible. That's an end to it. It's only for a few weeks, two months at most."

Grudgingly Merlin helped her carry her stuff to the servants' quarters where it would be temporarily stored until this absurd situation would end. The sooner the better, in his opinion. Monseigneur could go and rot for all he cared, if only he did it somewhere else. As could Madame.

"I still think Arthur should have made his take-over official" he said while they made a combined effort to close the chest in which they had stuffed her be longings. "Sooner or later our precious King is bound to find out what's really going on in Camelot and then all hell will break loose, mark my words."

"You better go now" Gwen said, ignoring his last remark. "Arthur expects you to serve at the table during lunch, in case you have forgotten." With a last good-bye smile she went out. At least Arthur had been sensible enough to send her home to her own little house in town for the time being.

Angrily muttering to himself Merlin made his way back to the castle's official rooms. As expected he found his royal friend, his kinfolk and their entourage in Camelot's stately dining room, ready to sit down for lunching. Merlin cast one look at his Prince and sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long ordeal and with Arthur being in this mood after only a few minutes...

Silently Merlin resumed his familiar place behind Arthur's chair, heaving a sigh of relief at the sight of Uther's own servant Cedric taking his place behind the King's seat. At least Arthur's servant would not be expected to serve the others. Uther's personal man outranked him, after all. The warlock risked a furtive look at the King and coughed softly to hide his gasp of surprise. It had been many a week since Uther Pendragon had looked that animated and good-humoured. He chatted happily away with his nephew, apparently exchanging news about continental tournaments.

"Well, let's be grateful for small blessings" Merlin thought. "If anything this should brighten up a certain Prince's day a bit!"

"Wine, Your Highness?" the warlock then asked, all duty and subservience for once while he raised the tankards. "Red or white?"

Daintily the Comtesse dabbed at her painted lips. "Really, my dear Arthur" she said. "I see you still have no idea of how to train a servant. Shouldn't the boy know that it is white wine with the fish soup? The red wine is much too dry and heavy. It will go perfectly with the venison later on."

Incredulously Merlin looked at the plates and terrine on the serving cabinet. Fish soup. The old hag was perfectly right. Fish soup, of all things. Camelot's Bouillabaisse was renowned to be divine but Arthur hated the stuff. Under no circumstances it was to be served to him. Even Uther heeded this iron rule, at least since his then 10 years old son had vomited for sheer disgust, all over the banquet table during the first official dinner he had ever attended. The Mercian delegates had not been amused but the banquet had found its way into the Arthurian legends of Camelot's servants' quarters.

The warlock in disguise stared helplessly first at Arthur's face, then at the King's. Both didn't give him a clue. However, he soon realized that he himself had come into the focus of a much more thorough scrutiny. "Uther, why is it that your servants always look as if they have slept in a dustbin?" Matilda said. "What has become of this nice red livery I once created for your servants to wear on official occasions?"

"I should have known" Merlin thought as the truth dawned on him. "Them bloody feathers!"

"Really, dear brother, you must see to these things, it's most important to keep up standards in a household" Matilda meanwhile rambled on. "This boy's neckerchief for example. I swear it smells!"

"You are perfectly right Aunt Matilda" Arthur said, shoving his chair back while rising. "I understand that the servant's presence must be an undue imposition on you. I'll make sure that he changes immediately..."

"But Arthur, you are going to miss the soup if you go now." His Aunt's high pitched voice caught the Prince in his first step towards safety. "I send the recipe special to your father. I know you don't like the usual style of Bouillabaisse, but this you will adore, it smacks so much more of fish..."

"I am sorry to miss it, Aunt, but as you said, it's important to keep up standards..."

"Sit down, Arthur!" Uther roared impatiently and glared at his son. Camelot's Crown Prince and effective ruler resumed his seat without another word.

Merlin saw all muscles in his master's shoulders tense and sighed again. From what he had seen and heard so far this was going to be an even worse ordeal for all of them than he had anticipated. But then, he might as well get it over with. Resolutely he strode to the serving cabinet, took the terrine, feigned a little stumble and a second later the damned thing lay on the floor, broken into many, many pieces, with the soup pooling all around it. Merlin thought that he had seen some fishy situations in this room, but never one as fishy as this one. "Oh, sorry" he said.

Uther was the first one to regain the use of his voice. "Arthur, take this walking disgrace out of my sight. He is to be put to the whipping pole at once. Three dozens lashes, not one less, you hear me?"

"Yes, father. As you wish!"

A minute later an enraged Prince pushed his manservant against the corridor wall, a few steps away from the dinning room door. "What was this for? Didn't I tell you that I need your support in this? This isn't a game. My father isn't himself. Provoking him can be dangerous, for him and for you, you idiot!"

"Wouldn't have done any good if you had thrown up the old hag's special recipe right into her fat lap" the warlock replied. "This way it was at least my fault, not yours. And I can keep my neckerchief."

"Is there anyone in Camelot who doesn't know the story of my first banquet?" a much less enraged Prince asked, trying hard to not let show the smile which was forcing its way to his face.

"Nope. Not a single soul, I'm afraid. Except your Aunt and Cousin, that is."

Arthur shook his head in exasperation. "Well, now that the harm is done, we can as well make the best of it. Your misplaced heroics at least give me an hour of spare time." He gave up the fight against the grin and slapped Merlin on the back, hard. "I will spend it in my chambers, looking at some reports that came in this morning and you will go to the kitchens like the nice, obedient servant you've never been and fetch me some lunch."

"Yes, Sire!" Merlin turned round in a military style and made haste to get away, silently congratulating himself on his smart move.

"And, Merlin." Arthur's call brought the other man to an abrupt halt.

"What?"

"Stay out of my father's sight for a few days, will you? You are supposed to have been given a severe flogging!"

"All right, Sire. Although the real punishment is much worse than any flogging. To think that I should miss out on all these heart-warming family events..."

"Get lost, Merlin!"

"Yes Sire. As you wish!"

Ten minutes later the warlock stumbled into Arthur's chambers, precariously balancing a heavily loaded tray in one hand and a well filled water jar in the other, together with a bottle he had somehow tucked between his body and his elbow.

With much gusto Arthur watched his friend's fight to put it all down on the table; this time without breaking or spilling anything.

"You could help me a bit, you know" Merlin said, panting heavily after the last plate and cutlery had made it safely to the table.

"No, why?" Arthur asked, blue eyes all innocence. "It's much more fun if I don't."

Merlin gave him his severest look while he laid out the table. When he had finished he gave his handiwork a most appraising gaze, cocked his brow and waved towards the table invitingly. "Your lunch is served, Your Highness!"

"I would rather have it here, on my desk, if you please."

"Arthur!"

"All right, all right, I'm coming" the Prince lost the struggle against his chuckling while he rose, reports still in his hand. "What's in that bottle, anyway?"

"Brandy! The strong sort. I thought you might need it in the days to come. After all you will have to brave them out without my protection, Sire."

"Get out of my sight, you insolent brat!"

The last thing Merlin saw before he got out of the room was Arthur, usually a model of abstemiousness during daylight hours, treating himself to a triple of the strong liquor. The wizard was still sniggering to himself when he reached Gaius' quarters.

Alas, his merriment ended as soon as he made it in. "Merlin. Where on earth have you been?" a most agitated Court Physician exclaimed. "I have heard the wildest rumours about what happened in the dining room. What have you been up to?"

"I have saved the Crown Prince's backside, again. Without my quick-witted response to the situation His Royal Highness would either have made a complete fool of himself or died of the unwholesome consumption of fish soup á la Matilda. And I earned myself a sentence of three dozens lashes for my troubles from Uther. Afterwards I fetched lunch for Arthur from the kitchen. In other words, I have just done my usual chores."

"Three dozens!"

"Calm down, Gaius. It's not as if Arthur would have me whipped. He said I should stay out of Uther's sight for a while which is perfectly fine with me as long as these poor relatives are batting on Camelot's all too ready hospitality."

"This isn't funny. The whole stronghold is already bustling with what Uther told his family about what he would do to you! Matilda and her son are thinking to watch the execution of the punishment, in case you're interested in such fine details. Do you have any idea of what Arthur would have to deal with if his father were to find out that most of his orders are simply ignored nowadays?"

"Well, Arthur will have to think of something" a suddenly very uneasy warlock said hesitatingly.

"Well, all the better that at least one of you has the capacity to think at all. How often have I told you to think, Merlin? So you are to stay out of Uther's sight for a few days, huh? And what about other people seeing you, running around freely and unharmed? There's Bessy who gave you Arthur's lunch, at a time when you should have been tied to the whipping pole. Bessy tells Nancy, Nancy tells Matthews, Matthews tells his brother Malcolm that, the Gods be praised, you've been seen bright eyed and bushy tailed, Malcolm makes a harmless remark next time Uther visits the stables and Arthur is stuck in hot water, up to his neck!"

"So far Uther hasn't smelled a rat, and it has been eight months since Arthur diverted power to himself!" Merlin would not give in without at least trying to redeem his clever actions in the eyes of his worried guardian.

"And most of the time Uther has been sick in bed or at least confined to his rooms" Gaius replied heatedly. "The only persons to see him were Cedric, Arthur and me. Now that he's up and about, Arthur will be hard put to keep this charade going, even without his nosy relatives snooping around."

Merlin shrugged defiantly, at a loss of what to say to that. As he agreed wholeheartedly with Gaius on that score it was hard to find some arguments against it.

"I've always said that Arthur has to take charge officially, even if it is only temporarily" Gaius went on. "But he stubbornly refuses. He won't commit treason against his father! That's all well and good in theory. But what does he think Uther will say if he finds out that his son has been ruling Camelot for almost a year? And think of the things Arthr has done! This will be High Treason in Uther's opinion; he won't care about his son's motives. So there's nothing for it, Merlin!"

The last words startled the wizard out of his uncomfortable brooding. "What?"

"You are to stay in our quarters for at least two weeks, better three weeks. They need a thorough cleaning anyway, my books need to be sorted, your clothes need mending, I could do with your help in copying my latest notes on magical poisons and my leach tanks haven't been cleaned in weeks..."

"No, wait Gaius, you can't..."

"I can and I will, young man. Up you go, fetch your writing things, we can start copying the notes right now. Perfect opportunity to improve your handwriting."

"Gaius, no, I..."

"Merlin, go and fetch your writing things!"

With his head hanging low Merlin trotted to his room for his stuff. There were moments when Gaius could be much worse than Arthur, even in his vilest moods.