A/N: This drabble was taken off my Awkward Moments fic… I thought it should be a one-shot, so here it is.

Also, my word processor seems to be of the opinion that 'drabble' is plural or it's a verb... which would be weird. It wants me to change "This drabble" to either "This drabbles" or "These drabble" Um, alright then.

Merlin always thought it was a miracle that none of the knights ever set their hair on fire with all of their torch-wielding glory. Really, it was almost too good to be true. Something had to give.

And it was then, just as the Daracha began to descend upon the knights, that Merlin realized this would be the day –er night. He was grateful in advance that he had short hair.

Sir Gwaine and Sir Leon were not quite as fortunate.

The Daracha were shrieking. In the abandoned courtyard, Percival rushed towards the knights, a pile of wooden debris in his arms. A tight circle was made, torches jutting out like fiery spines.


Leon swung his torch wide, snuffing out the onslaught of ghosts. Lancelot and Gwaine stepped up beside him against the second wave. The Daracha were coming, soaring in eerie circles around the clustered knights. Arthur raised his torch against another Daracha when a cry pierced the thick air around them. It wasn't a Daracha scream.

"My hair!" Gwaine was slapping at his head furiously where his hair was up in flames. Arthur jerked the torch away, thrusting it into an oncoming ghost. "Help!" Gwaine dove out of the circle of knights, catching Leon on the way and setting his hair on fire as well. The two knights blundered into the courtyard trying to smother the flames that were licking their fine locks. Gwaine dropped to the ground, frantically rolling about like a disgruntled log. The torches were extinguished in the ensuing mayhem. Meanwhile, the Daracha fled at this strange display of arson, leaving the knights in the dark.

When morning finally came and the full extent of the cosmetic damage was visible Gwaine wouldn't stop glaring at Arthur and Leon wouldn't stop glaring at Gwaine.

Sir Gwaine and Sir Leon were left with singed hair and blistering scalps. Leon's beard seemed horribly out of proportion without his rusty hair to balance out his head. Gwaine pouted and refused to look at any of the other knights.

"Hey," Merlin said, doing his best to remain optimistic. "It could be worse." This was met with more glares. "You could be dead."

Everyone groaned and said, "Merlin. Shut. Up."