tumblynumbly

“That is serious,” Gaius agreed. “Which lovely young lady is the object of your affections this time?”

Arthur’s head jerked up and he coloured, if such a thing were possible, even further, so that his face was now approximately the same shade as his shirt. “I’d really rather not say.”

“Well, that’s stupid,” said Merlin. Gaius shot him a look. Granted, he had been about to express roughly the same sentiment, but he would have done it more tactfully. “How are we— er, how is Gaius supposed to break the spell if he doesn't know who’s cast it?”

“I am quite certain,” said Arthur slowly, “that the person responsible is not the same as the, er…” He turned his eyes to the ceiling and finished lamely, “…target.” 

“How could you possibly know that?” Merlin retorted.

Really, Merlin wouldn’t know good manners if they danced a jig in front of him wearing that absurd feathered hat. Gaius tried a more reasoned approach. “Even if they are not the same person,” he explained to Arthur, fairly exuding patience and geniality, in his own most humble opinion, “the identity of the spell’s focus is still valuable information. Knowing that could help me to determine the spellcaster’s motivation.”

“Be that as it may,” said Arthur, avoiding both Gaius’s and Merlin’s eyes, “you’ll just have to do without that little tidbit. I have every confidence in your investigative skills regardless.”

“You,” cried Merlin, throwing up his hands, “are an incorrigible horse’s snout, did you know that? I empty your chamber pot. Why is this what you’ve decided to get all embarrassed over?”

Arthur’s expression was midway between a scowl and a pout. “I am not embarrassed, Merlin. I simply wish not to embarrass the, er, other party.”

“Well, I’m not going to tell her about it!”

“You won’t be telling anyone about it,” shouted Arthur, face thunderous, “because I won’t be telling you. Good day, Gaius. I trust that you will begin your search for the remedy with all haste.” With that he stomped from the room and slammed the door with such ferocity that Gaius momentarily feared for the potion bottles on the nearest shelf.

“Well, my boy,” said Gaius, once the door ceased vibrating, “I suppose we have some research to do.”

***

The passage of a week had done nothing to inspire Arthur to share the identity of his newfound love interest. Merlin’s groaning was audible before he even opened the door. “It’s getting worse, Gaius. We have to find the cure soon or I’m going to go mad.”

“Good evening to you too,” Gaius replied, fondly if a bit exasperatedly. “Ordinarily I would ask whether Hunith tolerated such constant whingeing during your childhood, but all things considered, I am inclined to agree with you. The situation has become untenable. However—”

“I’m really worried about him,” Merlin interrupted, clearly not listening, not that he was ever much in the habit of listening, and slumped into a chair with a book selected more-or-less randomly from the shelf; they had been through them all twice already. 

“Merlin—”

“He’s behaving like even more of a carrot-head than usual,” Merlin continued, heedless. “Thought he was going to take Sir Balin’s head off in training this morning.” He thumbed morosely through the book, eyes glazed. “And when I tried to get him undressed for bed, he just went red in the face and shouted at me to get out.” He looked up, frowning. “It’s weird, actually. He wasn’t like this at all with the last love spell.”

“Merlin,” said Gaius, sternly, “that is exactly the point. If you would listen to me for a moment, I believe I have the answer.” He paused for dramatic effect. “When Prince Arthur was previously under a love spell, did he deduce as much on his own?”

“No,” Merlin replied, slowly. “He didn't even believe us when we told him.”

“And was he circumspect about exactly whom he loved?”

“No.” Merlin’s eyes widened. “It was all I could do to get him to stop gibbering about Lady What's Her Face long enough to drink the antidote.”

“Precisely,” said Gaius with a bit of a self-satisfied smile. “The two characteristic attributes of all love spells are the subject’s compulsion to profess his love, and his complete unwillingness to consider even the possibility that his infatuation is not entirely genuine.”

Merlin pulled a contemplative face. Gaius waited. After a long moment Merlin said, “So what you’re saying is that this isn’t a love spell.”

“Indeed.” Gaius nodded. “It seems that our young prince has actually fallen in love. Why don’t you go and give him the good news?”

Unfortunately, Merlin did not seem to consider this good news. “Oh no,” he moaned, “Arthur’s going to be furious. You saw how embarrassed he was when he thought it was just a spell. Why do I have to be the one to break it to him that he’s really in love with— with— ugh. Maybe it’s Lady Bertilak.” He grabbed a fistful of his hair. “She’s, like, a hundred years old.”

“Lady Bertilak is younger than me,” corrected Gaius, rather severely. It was a mark of Merlin’s dire mood that he did not even have the decency to look properly chastised.

“She’s still old. And Arthur’s still going to hate me.”

“I doubt that very much,” Gaius sighed, bundling him towards the door. “Best get on with it, then. We all have our burdens to bear.” Merlin’s dramatics notwithstanding, Gaius was quite confident everything would turn out all right, and all too eager to collapse into bed for his first proper night’s sleep in a week.