"Still, it's a bit – I mean. Merlin. Arthur." Merlin could feel himself starting to redden under her gaze. Will had teased him relentlessly when they discovered that Prince Arthur was going to be attending St Andrews too. Gwen's mouth was twitching irrepressibly. "Oh my God, you're going to be his best friend. You know you are. Merlin and Arthur – it's meant to be! There's no way you aren't going to get pointed out to him, with a name like that. King Arthur and his trusted advisor Merlin!" She made a noise distressingly like a squeal. "You're going to be the next Prime Minister!"

Merlin reached across the table to thwap the top of her head. "Shut UP," he said, flushing harder. He felt like his cheeks were on fire. "Although – what's Gwen short for, exactly?"

"Um."

"No, no, I don't think it's short for Um. Never heard of anyone called Gwen-short-for-Um. Is it Gwendolyn?"

"..."

He perked up, watching the way she bit her bottom lip. "Or is it, could it possibly be – am I sitting next to the future Queen Guinevere, by any chance?"

Gwen sank her head in her hands. "Shut up," she muttered to the tabletop, looking mortified.

"You are? You are! You're called Guinevere! You really are! And you had the nerve to – oh, that's priceless!"

"Oh, shut up and tell me how you take your coffee, Your Wizardliness," said Gwen, glancing up at him ruefully through her curls.