The result of no sleep and too much sugar. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I really need to? Really? *mutters grumpily* I think fan fiction is self explanatory. =_=

12 Feet

The first thing that registered in his mind was that he couldn't feel the ground beneath his feet. The second was that the floor had collapsed in and that he was not 12 feet lower, injured and in the middle of a pile of rubble. The third, and perhaps the most shocking, was that he was quite certain that he was being held up by the hand that gripped him just above the elbow.

The hand belonged to the dark haired manservant, Merlin.

The next thing to pop into his mind was that he was being held up in thin air by a skinny white boy with no muscles to speak of. Of all the ridiculous things to have happen, it'd have to be that.

What he found himself wondering next was just how many times had that skinny white boy come to the rescue like this without his knowing? Was this a regular occurrence?

Then the word magic appeared in his mind.

And then he felt the reality of the situation settle in… Merlin had magic. And now he and everyone that stood on the landing on the other side of what was once the throne room knew.

One of them was the King.

Oh shit…

Perhaps this was a good thing, he thought hopefully, staring at the look on Arthur's face. He looked bewildered, then stunned followed by slightly annoyed. The look of wonderment was what made his breath catch. But the look of dread that appeared on the blonde's face sent panic rushing through his veins. He followed his gaze across the room to the people he'd forgotten were there.

He'd forgotten about Uther Pendragon.

Oh shit…

He'd heard and felt the rumble of noise as something heavy crashed to the ground not far off. The need to investigate was a strong one and quick as flash he was off down the corridor in the direction the offending noise had come from.

He saw the dust first, felt it coating his mouth and throat as he charged down the corridor. Next he saw doors were smashed outwards. Then the rubble of what was once the ceiling to the room came into view. Shocked that the ceiling would collapse in without warning, he looked around for a cause.

What he saw made his blood run cold. Merlin and Arthur. Floating. 12 feet in the air and floating.

The worst thing was that he could see above him, on the opposite side of what was the throne room above. And he didn't like what he saw.

The secret was out. Uther knew.

Oh shit…

No one said a word. Merlin because he was suddenly under the impression he was doomed. Arthur because he thought Merlin doomed. Lancelot because he thought Merlin doomed. Uther because he thought if he said anything before Arthur was returned to solid ground, he'd be doomed.

Minutes passed as they all stood still, Arthur not really having a choice in the matter.

Merlin's arm shook slightly as he stared across at Uther in shock. Arthur didn't miss it and, taking matters into his own hands, turned to look at his pale faced manservant.

"Merlin," he said loudly, almost sarcastically, "unless you've suddenly developed the stamina of a dragon and not told me, shouldn't you be getting us to solid ground?"

The warlock blinked and turned to stare at Arthur. He opened his mouth, about to tell him it didn't work like that, before closing his mouth and nodding silently. He obligingly guided them across to the landing. Unfortunately Uther was still there.

They came to a soft landing on the stone as the people standing there moved back to give them room. Merlin didn't let go of Arthur's arm. Arthur found he didn't mind. Uther seethed. Lancelot squinted from where he was to see what was happening.

The problem, Merlin decided, was that he had no way of getting out of this one. He grasped Arthur's arm tightly, reassured by the fact that the prince hadn't shaken him off as soon as they set foot on the floor again.

What was he supposed to do in this situation?

The problem, Lancelot decided, was that he couldn't see or hear what was happening. He squinted up at them, but they were too far away.

Would he get there quick enough if he started running now?

The problem, Uther decided, was that Arthur didn't seem to be upset by the incident, or that his servant was a sorcerer and still had a firm grip on him. In fact he seemed to enjoy the fact that his servant was at a loss for words and clinging like a scared child.

How was he supposed to get his son back to safety without the clingy sorcerer doing something… untoward?

The problem, Arthur decided, was that he had a lot to consider and no time in which to do it. The good bit was that Merlin was being a complete girl and clinging to him as though his life depended on it, which amused him to no end. Until he realised that it most likely did.

How was he supposed to deal with this? More to the point, should he deal with it? He could just shake the boy off and leave him to his fate.


Lancelot ran.

Uther's blood pressure was rising. Merlin was still clinging to Arthur and he still didn't look worried!

Merlin stared at the vein popping out of the King's forehead in fascination. Perhaps he was about to spontaneously combust? Or at the very least, pop. Oh, wait, he'd get the blame. Sometimes magic sucks.

Lancelot was still running.

Arthur glanced behind him to see the gaping hole that had once been the floor. After a moments thought, he turned to look at Merlin again.

"Don't s'pose you could fix that hole there at all?"

He would have laughed at the expression on everyone's faces if it were any other situation.

Merlin didn't answer he just glanced back at the floor before muttering something and watching as the floor flew back up into place.

"And I don't suppose you could make this…disappear from their minds at all?"

Lancelot was still running. Out of breath. But still running.

Uther opened his mouth to voice his outrage at the very suggestion. Unfortunately the warlock's answer shut him up.

Merlin gave Arthur a reproachful look. "If I keep doing that you're all going to get brain damage."

Arthur gave him a strange look. Merlin sighed.

"I've already done it five times," he explained, before giving Arthur an annoyed look. "Why do you always come to the same conclusion?"

"Well, obviously it's been working."

"If you become retarded because of this, you've only got yourself to blame," he warned.

"Merlin," Arthur said, feeling irritated, "just shut up and do as you're told."

Merlin sighed and wiped their minds, returning them to their memories of ten minutes in the past.

Lancelot stopped running. Why was he running again?

Merlin cringed, grabbing hold of Arthur's arm again as the floor fell away beneath them. He groaned at the fact that he was now, once again, floating 12 feet in the air with Arthur and facing execution for sorcery for the seventh time that day.

Why couldn't he get that floor fix-it spell right?

Lancelot heard a loud crashing bang. He started running instantly, the need to investigate taking over.

…though, he must admit, he felt as though he'd been running back forth all day long. Funny, he could have sworn it'd been a quiet day so far.