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    Summary

    "And you Merlin? What's your type?"
    When Arthur saw him exchange a fleeting glance with Lancelot, his heart sank. Suddenly he realized he didn't want to know the answer.
    "Alright, uhm..." Merlin spoke with his gaze turned to the fire before him. "I supposed... someone who's kind, brave and pure hearted. Someone noble and loyal". Merlin scratched his forehead, clearly embarrassed as a chorus of 'uuuuh' spread through the clearing.

    'The most noble and brave', wasn't that how Merlin had told him that Kilgharrah, The Great Dragon, had once called Lancelot?
    Arthur suddenly felt very nauseous.
    How could he have been so stupid? Now it all really made sense.
    Merlin was in love with Lancelot.

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