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Merlin jerks as something soft tickles his neck. Hunching his shoulders, he rubs the sensation away, batting irritably at the feather that's drifting into his line of view.
"Nice hat," a voice comes from the left.
He glances to the side, where Gwen is smiling brightly. "I'll be happy to share."
"Oh, no. It suits you, really."
He scowls at her through narrowed eyes as she fights to keep her giggles quiet.
"Well, at least everyone's having a good laugh." He looks away, crossing his arms and sputtering a bit as he catches the end of the feather between his lips.
Contritely, Gwen nudges his arm. "It's not too bad, is it?"
Looking down, Merlin replies, "I guess not. It's just…"
"Believe me, I know."
They both turn as the raucous music that had filled the room stops. In moments a slow, gentle ballad sweeps over the crowd.
"Do you ever wish you were, you know, one of them?"
"Huh? Oh. You mean one of them," he says, gesturing to the small crowd of nobles laughing, presumably, over one of Arthur's stories.
"Yes."
"I've never thought about it." He pauses, remembering how torn Arthur often is between his duties and his personal wishes, how he doesn't really seem any happier than anyone else Merlin knows. "I don't think it'd be that much different."
"No?"
"I mean, aside from fighting in tournaments, defending the city, attending huge, elaborate feasts and dressing in the finest garments available, they're not much different, are they?"
Gwen snorts, but after a moment, she answers, "I guess you're right. It's just…," she trails off, gazing at the subject of their conversation.
"Just what?" Merlin leans a bit closer, catching her gaze, which flickers away a moment later.
"You'll laugh."
"No." Reaching out, he gives her shoulder a squeeze. "No, I won't. I promise."
"It is rather silly."
"Tell me," he prods, offering a hopeful look.
"I've just always wondered what it would be like, sitting up there, eating that fancy food, wearing those lovely gowns… Just once, I'd like to look in the mirror and see someone special."
The look in Gwen's eyes breaks his heart.
"You do, every time you look."
She blushes, looking at her feet a moment before glancing up again. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah. Why don't you ask, then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I don't think she could get you an invitation to the next feast, but I'm sure Morgana would let you wear one of her gowns."
"Oh, like Arthur lets you wear his royal armor."
"No, but I get to wash his socks. But that's different, anyhow—I don't want to wear his armor."
"Merlin…"
"All right." He holds his hands up, defensively. "I know when I'm beaten."
Out of the corner of his eye, he catches Arthur's beckoning gesture. "And now to see to His Royal Pain in the Arse."
Smiling, Gwen shoos him away with her hand. "Go on, then."
He pivots to answer Arthur's summons, but pauses when he hears her call.
"You won't tell anyone, right?"
He smiles.
"Of course not." He doesn't need to tell anyone.
***
He watches as Morgana leaves her room, pulling the door closed, but leaving it unlocked.
He counts to ten, then creeps across the hall and into the room.
Morgana's wardrobe is stuffed with gowns—purple and blue and red, shiny and gauzy and frilly—and he can't help but wonder what on earth a person does with so many clothes.
Wrinkling his nose in confusion, he trails his fingers across the satiny fabrics, trying to figure out which one Gwen would like the best. He thinks he remembers Gwen likes yellow, so he pulls out a dress and pushes the wardrobe door shut.
Grinning at his prize, he doesn't notice when the door opens.
"Can I help you, Merlin?"
"Uh."
Morgana is standing just inside the door, arms crossed over her chest, a single eyebrow cocked.
"Well, you see…I mean, that is…well, I…"
"If you wanted to borrow a dress, Merlin"—smirking, Morgana crosses the room, reaching out to finger the skirt of the gown he's holding—"all you had to do was ask."
"Uhm. Right." He almost breathes a sigh of relief until he notices the speculative way Morgana is glancing between himself and the gown. "Oh! Wait. This is for Gwen. Not…oh, not for me. You see, she wanted to try one on, and she was afraid to ask and so I just thought…"
Morgana's eyes are sparkling as she plucks the gown from his numb hands. "There's no need to be embarrassed, Merlin." Draping the gown over the bed, she pulls a shiny red one from the wardrobe and thrusts it into his hands. "But truthfully, I think red's more your color."
Eyes wide, Merlin clutches the gown to his chest as he backs towards the door. "Thank you. Uh. I'll just—" he gestures to the door "—go."
Morgana snorts as he scrambles out of the room. A peal of laughter echoes from behind the curtained alcove as Gwen emerges.
"The look on his face!"
Collapsing on the bed, Morgana giggles. "I know! I thought his eyes would pop out of his head."
Still chuckling, Gwen sinks down onto the mattress as well.
Glancing at Gwen, Morgana's face softens. "Merlin's a bit of an idiot, but"—she reaches for the yellow gown—"he's got a good eye."
Gwen's brow furrows in question.
Morgana grins and lays the dress against Gwen's body, fingers gently tracing the satin ribbon that cinched the gown under the bust. "Yellow would suit you."
***
Merlin sighs in relief as he makes it, unseen, back to Gaius's quarters. Slumping against the door, he eyes the red gown skeptically.
He wasn't sure where Morgana had gotten such a strange idea.
"Merlin, what have you done?" Gaius looks up from a large book he got draped across his lap.
"Oh." Merlin glances at the gown. "This is Morgana's."
"I can see that. Why do you have it? And here, of all places?"
"Well…It's a long story. But, I went to borrow it, for Gwen, and Morgana…she seemed to think…well, that I wanted to…" Grimacing, he holds the gown against his body and shrugs.
"Ah." Placing his book on the table, Gaius studies the titles before selecting another. "I'm not sure what she was thinking…"
"Oh, good. I was beginning to wonder—"
Gaius settles back into his seat and opens his book. "…I would have put you in blue."
FIN.