"Fair sir," said the knight, or Jedi warrior, or whatever the fuck he was, "will ye just?" "Will I which?" "Will you try passage of arms for land or lady or for—" "Seriously? Seriously? What, did someone drop acid in the fake mead at the Renaissance Fair? Stop dicking around, man, and fuck off."

The first thing Merlin Emrys thought when he was born, was "Oh, hell no."

Fusion with Ursula le Guin's planet O. In a world with very different marriage rules, a noble wedding and a magical threat still can't make Merlin, Arthur, Gwen and Morgana talk about their feelings.

"His life's a fucking space opera. And not even the erotic type that airs on New HBO. No, it's the animated comic type where the captain goes splat against the wall every episode and the pointy-eared bastard quirks his pointy eyebrow and steps on the captain's flattened remains."