#arthur survives and waits in the blanket of merlin's magic

[legends-of-time]

Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 3: Becoming Too Real

Masterlist

Just one week after Amelia had met Ygraine and Uther, disaster happens. She's laying on her blanket outside while Helen relaxes in a chair when a messenger on a horse arrives at the house. At first, she does not realise anything is wrong until she hears shocked gasps coming from Helen.

"George! George!" Cries Helen. "You will never believe what happened!"

"What is it, Helen?" George says confusedly as he steps out of their home as he hears his wife's cries.

"It is the Queen! She went into labour too early and has passed!" Helen sobs. This makes Amelia confused as she swears Ygraine had another month at least.

George clearly shares a her confusion, "but she was not due for another month! She said so herself!"

"It was shock that caused her to go into giving birth prematurely," Helen explains. "She had just gotten a letter that her sister had died."

"Vivienne? But she was so well." George comments still sounding very confused.

"They found her in the woods. She had a servant to hand her sister a letter she had written and then ran off." Helen exclaims. What happened in the woods?

"Poor Morgana and Gorlois!" George cries. "Uther as well. Did the baby survive?"

"Yes, a healthy baby boy. An heir."

This whole situation is overwhelming. George and Helen obviously believe that as Amelia is only a month old baby and she won't understand what they are talking about. The show never really explained what happened to Morgana and Morgause's mother. It does sound very dodgy though. Vivienne simply rode into the woods after telling someone to send a letter to her sister before being found dead. What happened in the woods and what was in that letter that caused Ygraine's early labour?

Amelia knows that the Great Purge is going to begin now. Uther likely used magic to impregnate his wife as he did in the show and now he is going to punish thousands of innocent people for something they cannot control to lessen his guilt. It is also going to make a lot of people angry and vengeful and this causes her mind to drift towards Morgause. She is likely with the High Priestesses at the Isle of the Blessed by now. Though Amelia knows she does not need to worry about Morgause for a while.

——

Amelia does not meet Morgana or Arthur, however, until she is 3 years old. It is another trip to the Castle. She has not returned since Ygraine's death and Arthur's birth but George has and sometimes Helen too. This means that Amelia has not had the opportunity to meet Arthur or Morgana. To be honest she is getting tired of waiting.

When they arrive in the Council Chambers, the Court seems more sombre than Amelia remembers and that partly might be due to the fact that Uther is not as joyful himself as he was when she first met him. She straightens herself uncomfortably and tries not to start tugging at her long brown hair that's been half pinned up.

They are announced once again by the herald, which still makes Amelia jump, and then all three of them begin walking towards where Uther sits at the other end of the Hall.

"Helen, George, it is good to see you," Uther utters. "You do not come often enough." He gives them a small smile.

"We apologise, Sire," George answers respectfully. "I hope you remember our daughter Amelia?" At the sound of her name, Amelia steps from Helen's side and curtsies like Helen and her Nanny had taught her. Uther simply looks at her with a sad glance.

"My my you've grown haven't you?" This unnerves Amelia slightly and she does not respond until she feels Helen nudge her side with a leg.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Amelia says quietly.

Uther then beckons a woman that Amelia had noticed over to them and when she did a small mop of blonde hair pops from behind her and a pair of blue eyes like hers watching Amelia. After analysing him for a minute, Amelia realises that this must be Arthur.

"This is my son Arthur," Uther states proudly. "I am sure the two of you are going to be the best of friends." This causes Arthur to turn his stare toward her and shyly give her a smile while Amelia returns it.

"Nanny why don't you take the two of them to the Nursery," Uther orders. "I am sure that Gorlois's daughter is already there with her own Nanny."

"Yes, Sire," the Nanny murmurs before taking Arthur's hand as well as Amelia's. She looks toward Helen, who gives her an encouraging smile.

The Nanny then begins to lead Arthur and Amelia down the hall away from the Council Chambers. They walk down many halls not speaking a word to each other until they arrive at another door. Arthur's Nanny knocks and the door opens to reveal another woman.

"Your Highness," the woman utters curtsying. "Nanny Grey, My Lady." She opens the door.

The three of them step into a room of considerable size even though this is a room for one child. Royals. The room must be inside one of the Castle's turrets as it is of a round nature. There is the obvious cot in the corner with expensive white silks hanging over it and opposite the cot, on the other side of the room is a large window with the same type of silk as the cot framing it. There is also a door on one side that Amelia doesn't know where it leads.

After analysing this, she then notices a young girl with dark hair that might as well of been cut from the same cloth as the silk on the cot and curtains and skin that makes it obvious that she dinot see the sun often in the middle of the room playing. Morgana.

"My Lady? Arthur is back and he's brought a new friend for all of you to play with." The woman, who opened the door, speaks in a clear calm voice. This causes Morgana to glance up and run up to them with a doll in her hands.

She looked at Amelia and bluntly asks, "Who are you?"

"Lady Morgana!" Her Nanny immediately scolds. Amelia does not really mind and instead, she grabs Arthur's and Morgana's hands and pulls them towards the toys.

"I am Amelia by the way. We can be friends." Amelia says hoping that this will work because she genuinely does want to be friends with Morgana and get to know her.

"Alright then." She sniffs trying to act like she does not care when she does actually look interested. "Let us all play."

As they begin to play Arthur then pipes up, "Can I be friends with you too?"

"Of course," Amelia says warmly thinking how adorable Arthur looks at this age, it makes her want to squash his cheeks.

——

Just as Amelia hopes, they all grow up close from that point on, of course, she and Morgana are not always in Camelot as Gorlois is still alive and Amelia has her own home with George and Helen. However, they visit often especially on special events, birthdays for example. Wanting to be good friends with the two of them on one hand stems from her obsession with the show and wanting to get to know the characters and on the other hand, it comes from her want to full fill Ygraine's wish that they would be close.

Of course, it is not always fun and games. During this time since Arthur's birth, Uther has been executing anyone with some type of magic. Due to the fact that Amelia is to everyone a very small child, she is mostly kept away from the brutality of the Great Purge. Though whenever he can, Uther will bring up his view, what he sees as the correct view, that magic is evil.

When she and Arthur are old enough to have lessons, Helen, George and Amelia move to the Castle, as Morgana had a year earlier, so that she can join Morgana with her Governess while Arthur is having his own separate lessons to prepare him for being King. The only lesson they all share is being taught to sword fight, which Helen is not happy with as she does not see this as very ladylike but George and Gorlois feel that it is important for Amelia and Morgana to learn some type of self-defence.

Science is an interesting one due to the fact that it is not developed as it is in the 21st century, not that Amelia remembers all that she was taught but she remembers the odd thing, which completely contradicts what she is being taught in Camelot.

One obvious topic that all three of them are taught is the evilness of magic, which annoys Amelia cause this is Uther's attempt to brainwash all of them. She often openly disagrees with her Governess over this and of course, this is reported back to Uther. He often lectures her on how she is only young and does not truly understand the world. Amelia still argues back and from seeing her do this, Morgana often backs her up, which Amelia is grateful for as she is still only small and Uther is very imposing.

However, one day when Amelia is six, Uther has enough and decides to show what happens to people who practise magic and those that help them. Her first execution. Amelia has never seen anyone die in her life ever, especially witnessing someone lose their head. People like Gaius, who she has gotten to know well whenever she needs medical help, George and Helen try to persuade Uther from doing this but he argues that she needs to be taught what happens to those who are 'evil' sorcerers. He seems the type of parent to give tough treatment, to show children the harsh reality.

It is not a day that you would forget. Amelia remembers being led to the Balcony by a servant that she does not recognise, she is kept near the back though while Uther stands at the front for all to see. Then the drumbeat begins, Amelia sees two Guards begin to lead the young woman towards the execution block that is in the middle of the Square, surrounded by a large enough crowd. Uther begins his speech about the 'justice' that is going to happen and the 'evilness' of this person as Guards lead the woman up the steps of the stand the block sits on. Amelia admires this woman for her strength as while looking like she is about to cry, she is able to control her emotions and be calm despite the fact that she is going to die.

As the woman begins to kneel down and place her head on the block, Amelia begins to feel her blood gushing in her ears, she feels like her heart is beating so loud that everyone can hear it and she half expects Uther to turn around and scold her but he does not. Amelia watches the executioner lift up the axe and begin to lower it when Uther gives him the signal.

(A/N: this next chapter is a bit descriptive so if you don't like that skip this next paragraph)

The axe seems to be moving in slow motion and even though Amelia knows that she should turn her eyes away from the scene so she will not see the woman lose her head, she cannot turn her eyes away from it. It gets nearer and nearer until there is a thump. The woman's head falls to the floor, blood pouring from where the head used to be making Amelia feel sick, but the worst bit is seeing how her body carries on twitching for a few moments before going still.

Her heart is beating so loud that Amelia does not hear the gasps of the crowd nor Uther calling her name, she can only see the woman's body and the Guards putting her head into a basket.

"Amelia, Amelia," Uther cries, but in concern, before grabbing her small shoulders so that Amelia would look at him tearing her gaze from the horrific sight in front of her. "Do you understand Amelia? Do you understand that I do this to protect you from the evil magic causes?"

Amelia only stares at him before fleeing from the Balcony towards Gaius's Chambers where she hopes to find him leaving Uther yelling her name.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

#bbc merlin #merlin

[camelotsheart]

No New Year's Day to celebrate No chocolate covered candy hearts to give away No first of spring No song to sing In fact here's just another ordinary day No April rain No flowers bloom No wedding Saturday within the month of June But what it is, is something true Made up of these three words that I must say to you I just called to say I love you I just called to say how much I care I just called to say I love you And I mean it from the bottom of my heart No summer's high No warm July No harvest moon to light one tender August night No autumn breeze No falling leaves Not even time for birds to fly to southern skies No Libra sun No Halloween No giving thanks to all the Christmas joy you bring But what it is, though old so new To fill your heart like no three words could ever do I just called to say I love you

I'm thinking of this as Merlin missing Arthur and now I'm sad :)))))))))))))))))

I think its become a theme of my life now that whenever you give me a quote or song that reminds you of immortal merlin my brain decides to do a overly complicated backflip to make it apply to both immortal merlin and arthur waiting to return from avalon and i'm like. double sad. so thank you </3

#like. i've always imagined avalon to be a place where dead people meet #but what if arthur's different because he's not really dead? his soul or heart is still connected to magic itself #so like. arthur gets peace because merlin cast that spell #but in avalon...he's really just alone #and he waits alone... to return to the world... but he never really *feels* alone #because 'in sibbe gereste' gave him a feeling of love/kinship as well as peace even when no one is really there #arthur survives and waits in the blanket of merlin's magic #and at some point he *realises* that it's been merlin's magic that's been taking care of him this whole time #(i didnt want you to feel like you were alone) #and so like. he tries to convey his feelings through the magic #he starts talking to himself. making poetry. ranting about all the things he wasn't brave enough to say in the real world #in hopes that merlin hears him #in the hope that merlin understands #*truly* understands #just how much magic is in arthur's heart #ok this got soppy this is embarassing imma hide #rimi #asks

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Dumb Luck

Prompt: the usual "Everyone knows Merlin has Magic but Merlin doesn't know they know" but Arthur's being really fucking thick about it. Everything that could possibly be magic Arthur has brushed off as luck or something. At some point Merlin realizes that the knights know (or maybe he's known all along) and the knights tell Merlin that Arthur knows but he's being stupid, which leads to Merlin performing increasingly extravagant/impressive/silly magic in front of Arthur until the point Arthur just asks if Merlin would like him to acknowledge the fact that he doesn't care that Merlin has magic

no brain cells for these boys, leon stop hoarding them

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic who tf knows

Word Count: 2943

Alright. Merlin’s going to be honest. Is the absolute best at hiding his magic from people? No. Is he a damn sight near better than some other bastards would be if they had his magic? Yes, yes, he is, thank you very much. They would do quite well to remember that he is magic, and he’s had it since he was born, so he knows what he’s doing when it comes to knowing that he has it. Yes, thank you, he doesn’t go around doing every single thing he could with magic because well, then he’d never get to do much of anything ever again.

And that would be boring.

But yes, maybe he’s a little petty or lazy sometimes. Honestly, he’s just being efficient. Yes, he can justify pettiness as efficient. He’s just getting them back for something that he would otherwise have to expend so much effort doing. It’s very handy.

So the knights work out he has magic. Big surprise there, he knows. Lancelot is Lancelot, Gwaine is Gwaine. Percival stumbles in on him lifting too much a little too easily and cracks a joke about having Merlin pull his weight more on hunting trips and patrols. Elyan watches him fix armor and immediately clamors to bring Merlin to his and Gwen’s forge so he can actually show him how to fix armor.

Leon takes him aside quietly one day and thanks him. Merlin doesn’t start crying, he doesn’t end up breaking down into Leon’s arms, and Leon definitely doesn’t promise that although Merlin may not have been knighted, he thinks of him as his brother in arms.

Leon is very rude sometimes, as a matter of fact.

But Arthur doesn’t seem to notice.

Now, Arthur doesn’t notice a lot. Doesn’t notice Merlin shifting his chair a little bit so he crashes onto the floor, doesn’t notice Gwen spending just a hair too much time with Morgana in the evenings, doesn’t notice the guards that don’t even pay attention to the dungeons. Like, at all.

But there are some things he…should notice.

Like when a branch suddenly lifts itself up from a forest floor to trip a bandit.

“Bandits,” Merlin mutters under his breath, “why is it always bandits?”

He deflects a blow and sends one of them flying into a tree. Behind him, Elyan parries a blow and deftly clubs the man over the head. Arthur is battling another bandit a few paces away as one tries to run up behind him.

Merlin’s hand is out in a flash and the tree branch right in front of Arthur wheels up and smacks the man across the face.

Arthur whirls around and cuts the other man down, successfully putting an end to the fight. Around the clearing, the knights shake their heads and go about picking up the rest of their camp. Really, being far too calm for men who just killed a bunch of people.

Except for Merlin.

Merlin, while this is happening, is slowly coming to the conclusion that he would like to be swallowed up by the ground and never emerge again.

He just used magic, very obviously, in front of Arthur.

Is this the first time he’s done it? No, not by a long shot, but it is the first time he’s done it without any regard for whether Arthur can see.

Arthur turns and Merlin’s heart drops to his stomach.

Arthur wrenches his sword out of the ground and stalks over to him.

Arthur roughly grabs his shoulder. Shakes. Hard.

“Merlin! Merlin, answer me?”

“…Arthur?”

Arthur’s face is drawn. Grim. Almost his father’s. His grip hurts.

“Where are you hurt?”

Merlin blinks. What? Where is he what?

“Where is it, Merlin,” Arthur growls again, already looking him over, “where did they hurt you?”

“I’m—I’m not hurt.”

“You’re paler than a damn sheet, Merlin, you must be losing blood.” Arthur’s hand is…surprisingly gentle as it lifts his chin. “Tell me where. Come on. Now’s not the time for shame.”

“No, no,” Merlin mumbles, “I’m not—not hurt. Didn’t get hurt.”

Arthur slows, grim expression morphing to confusion. “Then why do you look so…”

If in doubt, poke fun at yourself.

“Just scared, I guess,” Merlin tries with a self-deprecating laugh, “wasn’t expecting bandits.”

Arthur huffs, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Leave it to you to be such a drama queen that I think you’re bleeding out.”

“’S nice of you to care.”

“Just glad I don’t have to drag your corpse back to Gaius.”

2.

So that was…bizarre. Not the most bizarre thing that’s ever happened to Merlin, not at all, but bizarre. Arthur may be a little unobservant at times but he’s not that oblivious.

But, in fairness to him—which is something Merlin tries not to do too often—he was in the middle of a fight and had just killed a man. Knights may not be known for the smarts but they are known for their overprotectiveness.

Yes, he can hear you lot protesting over there, it’s true and you know it.

And maybe…maybe Merlin’s been getting a little sick of Gaius screaming about how secret his magic must be kept in broad daylight with the door wide open. Listen, if you think he’s about to get scolded by your parental unit and not immediately find some way to rebel, you don’t know Merlin very well.

And yes, maybe there’s a sick little thrill he gets out of doing magic in front of Arthur.

Maybe.

So. The next time they’re on a hunting trip and he’s as sure as he can be that there aren’t any bandits around, he decides to push a little bit.

Arthur is lounging around because you can take the prince out of the castle but you can’t take the castle out of the prince and he thinks he’s still about to receive the finest of dishes that Camelot’s kitchens can prepare. Well, no, but he is about to not have to cook it himself.

“Light the fire, Merlin, it’s not that hard.”

“Have you ever lit a fire a day in your life?”

“Sure, when I was training.”

“Training? You needed training to learn how to light a fire?”

“It was survival training, with the elder knights. Had to survive a night on my own.”

“On your own?”

“Well, my own campsite. They stayed about a league away.”

Merlin just sighs and crouches down. He eyes Arthur, who is tending to his sword, and then very slowly but pointedly sets the flint and steel aside. Arthur isn’t paying much attention to him.

Slowly, Merlin leans forward and lights the fire with his magic.

Arthur looks up. Merlin looks back at him. Arthur swings the sword off his lap. He sets it on the log, his hand still wrapped around the pommel. The tip of the blade points straight at Merlin’s chest. It gleams in the firelight.

“See? I told you it wasn’t hard.”

Is…is he serious?

3.

As it turns out, yes. Arthur is completely serious.

And at this point, this is science, now, what Merlin’s doing. Experiments. He has to know the limits! He has a hypothesis, he has a method, he wants to reach a conclusion.

Hypothesis: Arthur is really, really oblivious to anything magical.

Method: do increasingly obvious magic in front of Arthur until he notices.

Conclusion: how oblivious is Arthur?

An important caveat: Merlin doesn’t know how Arthur will react to finding out he has magic, but he can burn that bridge when he gets there.

So when he wakes Arthur up the next morning, he draws the curtains with a flourish and when Arthur turns over and pulls the blanket up to his cheek in protest, he flicks his wrist and yanks the covers off the bed.

What does Arthur do?

Mumble and groan and stumble out of bed saying Merlin’s worse than his first governess.

“Wait, first?”

“Morgana and I snuck a toad into her bed. She quit after that.”

“You two did what?”

“Think there’s still frog spawn in that bed frame. Father had that chamber closed off for a while.”

“You—eat your breakfast, you prat.”

“You’re the one that pulled my blankets away!”

4.

…okay, so he needs to take it up a notch.

One of the ones that pisses Gaius off the most is when Merlin uses magic to polish multiple pieces of Arthur’s armor at the same time. So when Arthur is at his desk, Merlin lays his shield across his lap and grabs two polishing rags. He sets the can of polish next to him and starts working on the shield. When he’s sure Arthur is focusing, he uses his magic to lift the breastplate up next to him and start to beat out the dents.

“Merlin,” Arthur sighs, “can you keep it down any?”

Showtime. “Don’t know what you mean, sire.”

“That bloody racket! Can you at least be a little quieter?”

“What racket?”

Arthur shoves the paper away from him and glares at the ceiling. “That banging! It’s so loud I can barely hear myself think!”

“It’s no louder than you normally are, sire.”

“Oh, you—I ought to—“ Arthur just mutters to himself as he claps his hands over his ears.

But he never looks toward Merlin.

Huh.

5.

So maybe Arthur isn’t ignoring him because he’s oblivious. Maybe…maybe he knows already and is…is trying to protect Merlin.

Uther is still King of Camelot. Morgana is outspoken against his cruelty but he is still very much in charge. There’s only so much protection the knights can afford him. There’s only so much protection Arthur can afford him.

So…so maybe Arthur is pretending he doesn’t see because he knows he can’t save Merlin if he has to acknowledge it.

Merlin takes a few days to process that. The knights are concerned, they ask him what’s wrong, what does he need, how can they help? He waves them off, says he’s just thinking.

“Maybe,” Lancelot says kindly, “but with you, Merlin, you’re never just thinking.”

“Or at least it doesn’t stay that way for very long,” Gwaine agrees, slinging an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “and I don’t know about you lot but I like a little bit of forewarning before I wake up to ale in my shoes.”

“You asked for another round, you didn’t say where.”

“Why the hell would I want them in my shoes?”

Gwaine does what Gwaine always does and steers the attention away from Merlin, leaving Leon and Lancelot to carefully prod him a little more privately. He waves them off too, even though he’s sure he isn’t keeping as much as he would like to be from Leon.

Merlin stops using his magic as much. He does his chores as much as he can using his two hands, lugs buckets of water without complaint, polishes armor until his nose burns and his eyes sting. He uses his magic for particularly stubborn stains in his room and keeps a sharper eye out for how to move this bandit’s sword a little to the right, or how to make this knight’s staff a little heavier.

He thinks Arthur is trying to hide for him, so he hides for Arthur.

Then he can’t hide.

A sorcerer is threatening to collapse the walls of Camelot in on themselves. The entire citadel shakes as Merlin and the knights rush out, dragging as many people as they can. The stone trembles and the wood groans and there are screams. More screams than Merlin could ever bear to hear join the chorus of more than he could ever know that plague him every time he closes his eyes.

He shuts them anyway and runs.

He runs away from the knights, magic pushing him faster, faster, faster with the need to protect the castle, protect the people, protect Arthur. The sorcerer is pulling him away from his people and for that…for that, he must pay.

By the time he gets to the field, it is rippling with magic. Merlin’s fingertips, his ears, even his nose tingles as he rushes deeper, deeper, deeper, trying to get to the eye of the storm.

There, in the middle of a patch of grass, stands a sorcerer. In robes deeper than night and hair whipped up in the wind of the spell.

Merlin grits his teeth and says no.

And when the Greatest Sorcerer to Ever Walk the Earth calls, Magic answers.

The sorcerer is dust before he manages to open his mouth. The field settles. Magic returns to the earth. And Merlin collapses to his knees as the knights run up behind him.

He isn’t a fool, despite what others may have led you to believe. He knows this was magic, could only be magic, and could only be stopped by magic.

So when the knights rush up to him and collapse to their knees around him, muttering that he’s alright, he did it, he’s safe, he did it, is he hurt, all he can think of is how he’s going to have to explain this to Arthur.

They tell him he doesn’t need to explain anything. That Arthur already knows, that he doesn’t care.

Merlin doesn’t believe them. Even if he saved Camelot, which he’s already done, he has magic. He used magic to do it.

They tell him again that it doesn’t matter, that Arthur doesn’t, won’t care.

But Merlin still has to tell him.

“Tell me what?”

+1.

Arthur rushes into the clearing. He can hear him behind them. He can’t find it in him to get up. The knights are still around him, he can hear Lancelot’s voice in his ear, feel Leon’s hands on his shoulders, but he can’t move. Can’t speak.

“Tell me what,” Arthur repeats, and oh, he sounds angry, “what is it?”

“Merlin,” someone—Gwaine—is muttering, “Merlin, it’s alright, he won’t care, he doesn’t care—“

“Of course I care,” comes the cold, cold voice and Gwaine falters, “now move.”

Merlin’s chest clenches. There’s the sharp sing of steel as Gwaine draws his sword.

“Put it down.”

“Nope, can’t do that.”

Then Leon stands up. “Arthur, please think carefully about this.”

“I don’t have to think carefully about anything. Merlin is hurt, let me tend to him. He’s mine.”

“You won’t hurt him.”

“No, I certainly don’t intend to, so move.”

Lancelot’s hands are the last to leave him. Merlin is cold. It’s so cold. His magic buries deep inside his chest and it feels hard to breathe.

Boots. Boots on the ground in front of him. They flatten the grass as a shadow blocks the light. Armor creaks as the figure kneels down. A gauntleted hand cups his chin.

“Merlin,” comes a voice that’s soft, too soft, “Merlin, I need you to look at me.”

And what is he supposed to do, disobey?

Arthur’s face is too warm when Merlin looks up at him. His mouth tugs up into a little smile as Merlin finally makes eye contact with him.

“There you are,” he says, still in that soft voice that doesn’t make sense, “now, are you hurt?”

Merlin can only blink.

“Merlin,” he says, and his voice is a little firmer as he cups Merlin’s chin properly, “are you hurt? What happened?”

His throat is too dry. “Not hurt.”

Arthur relaxes, only marginally. “Then why do you look so upset?”

The world could collapse and Merlin would be frozen here, trapped in the silence of Arthur’s gaze.

Unbidden, his eyes flash gold.

Arthur takes a sharp breath in. Merlin braces for a hit only for—

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur whispers, “do I actually need to tell you I don’t care if you have magic?”

Pause.

Go back.

One more time.

What?

“I don’t care, you idiot,” he says in a tone that is too fond, “I don’t care that you have magic. You have it, you’re still Merlin, I don’t care.”

Rough metal gauntlets cup his face and oh—it’s cold—

“Merlin, look at me.”

“I—I am.”

“No, look.”

He blinks and has to focus on looking at Arthur.

“I’m not mad,” Arthur says firmly, “and I don’t care that you have magic.”

Merlin starts to laugh. Because of course, of course, Arthur doesn’t care. He’s been so stupid. Arthur doesn’t care. Arthur doesn’t care. He’s doubled over before he can stop himself. The laughs keep pouring out of him, his magic rushing back to his fingers, his nose, his chest. He laughs long and loud and hard and then Arthur is murmuring at him again because no, no, he isn’t laughing anymore, he’s crying.

“Come here, you big baby,” Arthur murmurs, tucking him into the gentlest embrace he’s ever had from someone wearing armor, “yes, there you go, that’s it.”

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

Arthur has known Merlin has magic and he doesn’t care.

…wait, does that make Merlin the oblivious one?

Nah, that couldn’t be it.

It’s not like Arthur is hiding anything else from Merlin.

#dragonbabbles #fic #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #arthur pendragon

[thesleepy1]

All In Endearment, Dear

A/N: My friend really liked that last fic and they wanted another one. I am so glad they liked it. One of the only positive things that happened in a while, hahaha. To anyone who comes across this, commenting, anything, even if it's just a smile makes my day. I finally get to feel that little surge of happiness when my fics are being read. It's a nice feeling, not going to lie. And to top off all of that, @queenofchaos7 requested that I continue this fic. So here we are.

Pairings: Merlin x Arthur

Summary: In an attempt to be more direct with Arthur, he takes Merlin out hunting with his knights. Something so intimate and a clear show of his loyalty, that Merlin could not mistake it as anything else. And in the middle of the forest, Arthur would not be able to chicken out like a coward, lest Merlin gets lost in the forest.

Word count: 3,824

Part 1

Part 3

Warnings: language, suggestive language, crude jokes, violence, blood,

Merlin was ignoring him. The man just had to be. Sure, Merlin came when called, was present in the council meetings, and everytime Arthur “accidently” injured himself Merlin would be there to nurse his wounds. It was just that Merlin rarely ever made eye contact with him anymore unless absolutely necessary. Merlin rarely ever lingered when called anymore, quickly leaving Arthur’s side to do who knows what.

Everyone already knew that Merlin was a wizard. Arthur was in full support of Merlin’s power and his ability to be useful among the court. For once in the brunette’s life that is.

There was no reason why Merlin should be avoiding him like this. Had he done something to make the man upset? Was it the rain comment from the week prior? Whatever it was, it was making him lose sleep. Arthur had long admitted that he was infatuated with Merlin, in love even. Though that was a big word. But obsessed to the point of losing sleep? That was where he drew the line.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled in that way of his. So distinctive that Merlin subconsciously curled up deeper into his nest of blankets. “Merlin!” Arthur yelled again, banging on Merlin’s door in Gaius’ quarters. “I know you aren’t at the tavern. I checked already. Wake up and come out here or I’m going in!”

Begrudgingly, Merlin rolled out of his straw stuffed bed and unlatched the door for Arthur. The king immediately stepped in before Merlin could close him out. “Do you realize how late it is?” Merlin asked in a sleep filled voice, not expecting Arthur to reply.

“Early actually, Merlin. The sun will be up in an hour or so,” Arthur replied, trying to hide the effects that Merlin’s sleep filled voice had on him. The king was so glad that the room was too dark to properly see.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my room, you twat,” Merlin groaned, trying to make Arthur out without magic. If he didn’t know any better, it looked like Arthur was in his hunting outfit.

“Would it be absurd to say I just wanted to see you?” Arthur asked in mock jest, watching Merlin’s face in the dark of the room. Even without light, he was shining.

“You see me everyday, remember? I work for you,” Merlin countered, turning on his heel to beeline for his bed.

“But you’ve been ignoring me.”

Merlin ignored him in favor for getting back into his bed.

“Merlin,” Arthur tired again. “I’m here for a reason, you know.” When Merlin didn’t reply Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m taking you hunting.”

That got the wizard right out of his bed. “What?” he exclaimed in confusion, his hair stuck up on one side. Arthur was tempted to fix it back into place.

“What do you mean, what? We’re going hunting in the forest.” Arthur approached the bedside slowly, as if coming up to a sleeping lion in its den.

“Is that an order?” Merlin mumbled against the bed, pressing his sagging pillow against his head to hide away from Arthur. His shirt was riding up his chest from the movement and Arthur had to quickly look away.

“I-it is,” Arthur stuttered, suddenly very interested in Merlin’s walls. The wizard had a little parchment picture of a bird nailed to his wall. The sketch was quite accurate, though Arthur could not remember for the life of him what kind of bird it was. “We’re going hunting with the knights.”

“Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

“It is morning, Merlin,” Arthur inched toward the door, suddenly very aware that Merlin had gotten up from his bed and was currently undressing behind him. “J-just hurry or else we’re leaving you behind.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Merlin snarked, shrugging into a new tunic. “You might stab yourself with your own sword if I’m not around.”

Arthur turned around, offended that Merlin would say such a thing, “Well I would have you know-” Merlin had yet to put on a new pair of trousers. Arthur ran from the door without saying another word, scarred for life at what he had seen. Merlin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until he heard a distant shout. “I still expect you to be there, Merlin!” Groaning at the unfairness of life, Merlin stepped into his trousers and made his way to the courtyard.

Arthur and the knights were there waiting for him, everyone disregarding, Arthur looked just as exhausted as he was. One of them was barely holding onto his mount. “Dear god, Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin asked with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Take the lot of you hunting for a great beast or something the kitchen staff could roast for us!”

Merlin was ready to leap off a cliff. “At this ungodly hour?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Of course, Merlin. Do you really expect us to hunt at night?” Arthur answered with a smirk on his lips. The knights of the round table all looked as if they were ready to kill their king as well. Gwaine was half asleep on his stallion. Lancelot was sleeping with his eyes open, the lucky bastard.

“I expect you to hunt without me,” Merlin shook his head, turning his back on Arthur to saddle his own horse. The mare was purposely stronger than the others, a more reliant breed that had the best sense of home. If anything were to happen while they were hunting, Arthur wanted Merlin safe.

“Come on, Merlin. It won’t be that bad,” Arthur sounded, ordering his knights to flank him as they rode off into the forest. “Really, it could be worse.”

“It really couldn’t.” Merlin rode to his left, Percival to his right. For knights of his court, none of them except Leon seemed to be properly awake. Even Elyan who used to get up before the break of dawn to help his father was trying to not doze off. Arthur was frankly disappointed in them.

“It could be fun, Merlin,” Leon gave him a reassuring grin, reminding Arthur of a golden retriever. “If anything happens out here, we’ll be here to protect you.”

“It's more likely that Merlin would get himself into a spout of trouble. He’s a magnet for that sort of thing,” Arthur butted in, suddenly aware of how close Leon was to Merlin despite their protective formation. His knight looked bright and cheerful even when the sun barely broke the horizon. “Don’t worry, Merlin. We’ll be sure to save you from yourself,” Arthur added, playfully punched Merlin on the shoulder.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Merlin groaned, rubbing against the spot Arthur had hit.

“You’ll live,” Arthur hid the guilt that ran through his system well. “If you can’t take a punch then you won’t survive out here, you clotpole.”

“First you take my sleep then you take my insults, what next, my breakfast? Oh, wait,” Merlin snarked, holding the reins to his mare tightly. Arthur had made Merlin carry all of their supplies, his horse being the strongest and all. But the wizard didn’t know that. He just saw Arthur as dead from the head up inconsiderate.

“You haven’t had breakfast, Merlin?” Elyan asked in a concerned tone. When Merlin shook his head, Elyan quickly glared at the back of Arthur’s head. “We should catch something for you then. The rest of us had bread and cheese before departing,” Elyan informed, grabbing the box strapped to his back to notch an arrow and be on the lookout.

“He’ll be fine. Missing one meal won’t kill him,” Arthur brushed off Elyan’s concern. His knight was a much more skilled archer than he was. If he was to impress Merlin then he would need all the chances he could get. Perhaps taking his most skilled knights into the forest to hunt for sport was not the most brilliant idea.

But if it were only him and Merlin, then the wizard might have suspected something amiss. Arthur rarely went outside of the city outskirts unless it were for a diplomatic meeting. And he never hunted before day break. It was unsafe to do so alone. However, Arthur wanted all the time he needed to confess to Merlin. So, really, bringing the knights was the only smart choice.

Arthur was beginning to regret his intelligent decision.

The sun finally rose to signal that morning had truly arrived. And with it brought disappointment. They had spent the entirety of the morning running around like cocks with their heads chopped off. Not a single one of them could catch even the smallest of blue jays. No one had any luck.

Arthur even begged Merlin to cast a spell to make something fall at their feet but the wizard had refused because he found it too cruel. The king agreed but at the same time, they would be killing the creature for supper either way. Did it really matter, how?

According to Merlin, yes.

And that was how they ended up here at the river. Noon had just passed its peak and the soft morning sun was blistering with heat. Everyone was sweating in their armor and gear. Practically begging Arthur to stop for a dip. Pleading that they’ll try to catch some fish while they were at it.

Only Merlin sat fine as can be in his faded blue tunic and red handkerchief. The fabric so worn and loved, Arthur could only imagine how soft they were. Though, those two items seemed to be the only things in Merlin’s wardrobe. That and the inverted of the two, faded red tunics and blue handkerchiefs. The wizard’s sense of style was lacking to say the least.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Besides arrogance? Not that I know of,” Arthur answered defensively, turning his back on Merlin for the second time that day. All the knights had piled their armour and clothes on the ground, running head first into the river. The wizard clearly didn’t want to be left out.

Arthur may join them in the water but there was no possible way he could compete with them. They were soldiers, training from morning till evening and then some more. Their bodies were muscular, hair greased and unruly, their scars gleamed in the sun. Arthur couldn’t help but stare at them, watching as droplets fell from their rippling chest. His face grew bright red, heat making him dizzy as he resisted the urge to look lower.

Merlin was having no such complications.

The wizard had just taken off his drawstring trousers. His boots laid next to the knight’s pile of clothes. The horses were tied to a nearby tree and happily grazing. Arthur noticed these simple things so as to not stare at Merlin’s figure. As much as he would like to make fun of Merlin, there was nothing to make a mockery of. For a simple servant, Merlin was quite fit.

“Come on, Arthur! The water is great,” Gwaine yelled from the river, splashing on shore where Arthur was still standing with his gear on. His back was to the group, but his knights knew damn well why he was not looking their way. They had found out about his little crush on Merlin after he had one too many tankards. And since then, they had not ceased in their teasing.

“There could be leeches in there for all you know,” Arthur replied, watching a family of birds high up on the tree branches.

“Leeches are harmless,” Merlin said in a cheerful tone. He could hear the man swimming and splashing behind him. “If you’re worried about the leeches’ well-being, Arthur, they’ll be fine. Missing one meal won’t kill them,” Merlin laughed in a way that made butterflies flutter in Arthur’s stomach.

“Ha, ha, very funny, Merlin.”

“The river feels wonderful,” Leon added as well, looking like a glowing greek god come alive. Sure, all of his knights were good looking, but he saw the way the soldier looked at Merlin. Just because Leon knew about his crush, doesn’t mean the man wasn’t willing to steal Merlin. The knight was so clearly flaunting his muscles, tousling his bright blonde hair with his veiny hand. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Please, Arthur?” Merlin pleaded, the sound going straight to Arthur’s heart and perhaps somewhere lower. “It will probably fix your sour mood.”

“I don’t think anything can fix that,” Percival said with a grin that took up the entirety of his face.

“I think only one thing could.” Arthur could feel Gwaine’s wink against the back of his head. He resisted the urge to gag in the back of his throat. If he loses to Gwaine, he’ll never forgive himself. Leon was worthy at the very least, Gwaine drank too much. To lose to a pig was an under disgrace.

“Fine!” Arthur yelled to his hunting party. He tugged off his gear, his tunic, and then eventually his trousers. It was all a very frantic dance to rid himself of layers, he felt like an utter git. “Are you happy now?” he turned to ask his party, preparing himself to jump into the river.

“No pants, my lord?” Elyan asked in what could pass as a concerned tone, but Arthur could hear the snicker in his voice.

“Well- Aren’t you all naked as well?” Arthur stuttered, flushed as red as the day he was born.

“Even I have my pants on,” Gwaine grinned widely, floating on his back to prove his point. The man was wearing white cotton pants with pink sewn hearts. It was quite comedic if not for the fact that Arthur was standing butt naked in front of the man of his affections.

Arthur quickly grabbed his pants and stepped into them before struggling to jump into the river. He failed to properly jump due to searing eyes on him and belly flopped into the water instead. “Gah!” Arthur cursed under his breath, surfacing with a grimace. “The water’s so cold.”

“There’s no need to feel ashamed, my lord. Performance issues are normal for someone your age.”

“Stress and lack of usage I hear are big factors in the issue,” Merlin added, grinning at Arthur playfully.

“Shut it, Merlin.”

“I think you might be scaring all the fish away, Arthur. You would think that little shrimp of yours would attract more of them.”

Having enough of their rude jests, Arthur pushed his hand through the water and splashed the nearest men. That only awarded him with six grown men thrown into a water battle. It wasn’t fair that Percival was large enough to create a tidal wave of a splash or that Merlin could use his magic to protect himself and attack the others. So when he had ran for his own horse to wade through the water, it was all within the rules.

“Cheater!”

“Traitor!”

Arthur only laughed out loud, “The horses want to be a part of the fun as well!” He had quickly grabbed ahold of his clothes and putting them on with one hand was proving to be more difficult than it seemed. “Catch me if you can-” A strong gust of wind appeared out of the blue and knocked Arthur right back into the water, his horse swimming to the other side.

“What were you saying about fun, Arthur?” Merlin looked down at him, those blue grey eyes staring right at his heart. “Are you willing to play fair, now?” Merlin said in a whisper of a voice.

Arthur parted his mouth to speak, but Merlin took his breath away. This was the moment to tell him. To confess how much he needed Merlin in his life, wanted the man without hesitation. He would never give away his kingdom, but for Merlin…. For Merlin he would consider it. A kingdom was not one without its kings.

He could not place the exact moment he fell in love with Merlin, but he had always loved the fool. “I l-”

His horse on the other side of the river nighed in warning, the steed whining in fear. Bucking up on high legs, Arthur had to hold onto Merlin’s arm to steady himself. There on the shore was a beast he had never seen before. A bear as large as a house stood on four reptilian feet, the fur of the thing made from pure glistening metal. The creature had three sets of violet eyes and radiated heat like a furnace.

Before any of them could react the bear opened its maw to reveal dozens of rows upon rows of teeth. They were sharpened to a point, serrated edges that tore through the horse with a rigid form of fiery. In the blink of an eye, the horse was gone.

“Get back on your horses!” Arthur ordered his men, back stroking onto shore for his sword. “Prepare yourself!” A breeze brushed against his back, goosebumps littering his pale skin. His men were behind him, but Merlin, the bastard that he was, was in front of him. “Merlin, get your ass back here!” he yelled, gripping his sword in hand, chest and clothes soaked through.

“He’s starving!” Merlin shouted back as if that explained everything. The brunette’s lips were tinted blue, his pale skin a purple bruise from their earlier rough water fight. He looked so small then.

“Get back here before I drag you by your ear. You are not to engage!” Arthur threatened, quickly looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure the rest of his knights were alright. They all stood prepared to give their lives for the block headed wizard. Swords at the ready, amour and gear laid askew on the floor, chest bare. Their lives for the thief that stole Arthur’s heart.

“Don’t attack!” Merlin yelled back, wading towards the bear with vigor. His chest heaved with each breath labored by fear. “The poor thing is starving,” Merlin repeated, holding his hands out in a reassuring gesture.

“Merlin,” Arthur warned in a hushed voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder the creature would feel threatened. “Get back here, it's not safe you, utter git,” he hissed between his teeth, eyes darting between the two beasts

“I’ll live,” Merlin called back, eyes glowing light amber and gold.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Lancelot muttered under his breath.

Merlin’s lips twitched upwards at the comment, “Make sure Arthur behaves if I’m gone.”

The mere implication of such a thing had the king of Camelot rushing forward. Arthur would die before having to live a day without Merlin. He was seeing red as he waded through the water, pulling the wizard behind him. “Never!” Arthur yelled louder than intended, the creature whipping its head at them.

“You bloody-” Merlin’s curse was shortened by the blood curdling roar that erupted like a volcano from the beast. It reeled back onto its two high legs, claws as long as Arthur’s arms slashing forward. The underbelly of the thing was made from thick places interwoven, almost as if it knew that was where Arthur was planning to strike.

“Bold of you to assume death could get you out of this relationship,” Arthur quipped before diving underwater.

“Relationship? If you think you could confess to me and then go off to get yourself killed, then I’ll kill you myself.”

“Hey, lovebirds! Have your lover’s quarrel after you’re not in immediate danger,” Gwaine shouted, joining Arthur underwater.

“All of you are going on a fool’s errand,” Merlin said exasperated, climbing onto shore. Leon and Elyan pulled him up with their free hands, pushing him behind them the moment he was on his feet. He rolled his eyes at this, absolutely done with his hunting party. Turning on his heel, he found his horse with all of their supplies. “The bear hasn’t eaten in days, have you seen the state of this forest?” Merlin pulled out a small sack of fruits and bread he had nabbed from the kitchen before running to meet Arthur.

The remaining knights looked onto him in concern, none of them completely used to the words and voice Merlin used when practicing magic. It was a low hiss of words, his eyes illuminated by liquid sunlight. If he weren't on their side, they would be slightly fearful of the wizard. Especially when he made the small sack fly through the air like a canon smelling of freshly baked yeast.

The bear whined low in its throat, the sound like gravel being thrown by the handful at glass windows. It caught the flying sack in between its rows of teeth, tearing through the thing thread by thread like it had the horse. Arthur was within attacking distance when the beast unhinged its maw and let put the most rancid burp.

Arthur and Gwaine fainted where they once stood. The creature lumbered away like it hadn’t just killed a member of their cavalry and scared them lifeless. Merlin swam across the river without hindrance, slapping both Arthur and Gwaine across the face the moment he touched shore. “You two better have a pulse or I’m feeding you to the bear,” Merlin threatened, feeling at their necks and wrists.

“Please, mercy,” Gwaine groaned, “The thing smells like my grandfather’s cooking.”

Merlin chuckled despite himself, the sound causing Arthur to stir. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the king murmured more to himself than to the rest of the party.

“Really? I would have never guessed. I assumed you had planned this all out, being killed by a beastly bear included. Was that not a part of your little list of Hells for Merlin?”

“This was supposed to be a date,” Arthur said instead, struggling to sit up properly. The smell of the beast lingered and Arthur could have thrown up. “I was supposed to impress you and confess.”

“Well call me impressed,” Merlin brushed Arthur’s hair out of his hair. It was soft to the touch, even riding in a forest for the whole day couldn’t ruin it. “But I’m planning the next date.”

“Next date?”

“Oh no, no, no, a concussion isn’t getting you out of this relationship,” Merlin shook his head with a grin and a gleam in his eyes.

“I don’t have a con- Ow!” Merlin smacked him over the head. “That hurt!”

“Really? It felt like I was just hitting rocks.”

“You can’t say that to me, Merlin. I’m your boyfriend.”

Merlin couldn’t hide the blush on his face and to be honest, he didn’t want to. “I say that because you’re my boyfriend. It's said with endearment, dear.” Arthur grinned at the pet name, Merlin returning the smile as he pulled the king close. Pressing their lips together should have been done ages ago, it was breathtaking. Merlin tasted of faint crisp apples, Arthur of something utterly his own.

Arthur tasted of something delicious, Merlin decided. And he was starving.

#merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #gwaine #lancelot #emrys #bbc merlin #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #bbc arthur #king arthur #percival #sir elyan #elyan #bbc elyan #leon #merlin emrys #knights of camelot #knights of the round table #pervical #fanfic #fanfiction #ficlet #fiction #fic writing #ao3 #writing #langauge #crude language #suggestive language

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 117: St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

Peter had never actually been to St. Mungo's, but he had a fair idea that's where he was. He'd at least heard of the place, when last year some bloke got the Mumblemumps and Madam Pomfrey hadn't been able to fix that and he'd supposedly come here for treatment, and the Marauders hadn't even done it. At least, he hoped this was where Arthur Weasley, and subsequently Harry, would be headed, better here than a morgue.

There was nobody else around him though, and he sat up in concern when he realized he was the only one in this particular room. The ward was small and rather dingy, as the only window was narrow and set high in the wall facing the door. Most of the light came from shining crystal bubbles clustered in the middle of the ceiling. The walls were of paneled oak and there was a portrait of a rather vicious-looking wizard on the wall, captioned: Urquhart Rackharrow, 1612—1697, Inventor of the Entrail-expelling Curse.

There were only three beds, and he'd landed in the farthest from the door. The cards he'd been holding were scattered pell-mell, only the ace of spades left clinging to his hand. The book wasn't in sight either, but he had no urge to summon it to him, instead his mind was still on Padfoot and those bites of his. While they were here, they should look around for some mixture of powdered silver and dittany. It wasn't a true werewolf cure, there was still no such thing even in Harry's time he was sure, but it helped ease the bites' pain level and helped minimize scarring, so surely it would do him some good.

He hopped off the bed, grumbling just a bit they couldn't have landed in here when they all needed sleep as there were plenty of beds to go around in a hospital, but stopped in surprise to see exactly what he was looking for on the bed table across from the one he'd been in. He twitched in unease, wondering if he was being paranoid or this mess was actually just trying to be kind to him for once. He pocketed it regardless and went for the door that thunked against something and instantly shut back on him.

Now he really knew he wasn't paranoid. No one else was in here, surely he should be able to leave and at least travel the hospital! He tried again, slower this time, and it once again thunked against something, leaving the barest crack. He grumbled in distaste, debated calling for help, but finally decided to risk it and changed forms to worm through.

Remus was on the other side having a panic attack. He didn't even seem to realize a door had slammed into his back twice, nor Peter appearing out of thin air beside him. One hand was fisted into his new shirt, right over his shoulder, the other was spasming open and closed as he kept gasping for air.

"Moony! Remus, mate, what," Peter crouched down beside him, trying to grab his hands and get his attention, but he just shied away from him still rasping for air. Peter looked wildly around for the danger instead, but still saw nothing, the corridor was completely empty. There were five more doors in sight, not counting the one he'd come from, but they were all still closed with little plaques beneath them. The one right across from him read:

Creature-Induced Injuries

Dai Llewellyn Ward

Stings

Underneath this was a card in a brass holder on which had been handwritten: Healer-in Charge: Hippocrates Smethwyck. Trainee Healer: Augustus Pye

The bottle of powdered silver and dittany seemed to burn in his pocket, as he turned his head slowly and read the one for the room he'd just left instead.

Creature-Induced Injuries

(Dangerous)

Dai Llewellyn Ward

Serious Bites

"Oh," Peter almost wished he didn't understand as he wrapped an arm around him instead, half his mind trying to draw him back into the crowd of laughing students to keep this kind of attention off of him, but this had long since happened. He wished Sirius were here for him instead, to make one of his stupid jokes readily available on that sign, he didn't see how he'd do much good with what Remus was dealing with. This is probably where Remus first woke up, after he'd been bitten.

He didn't want to imagine how the healers would have treated him, probably barely looking him in the eye. He could all too easily picture Remus at five, crying in pain and not able to understand where his dad was or why his mum wasn't allowed in to see him as his newly bitten shoulder burned.

"Come on mate," he muttered, changing to hold him under the arms. Remus was much taller than him, but on the lanky side, he should at least be able to get him to the bathroom and away from that particular door. The clothes James had picked out didn't fit him quite right, the shirt too loose around the shoulders, the pants a bit too tight he was sure as they exposed several inches past his filched boots from Arthur himself, and they left his skin far more exposed than his school robes. While Peter jostled him along, you could almost see the very first savage mark glinting on his shoulder.

Remus was practically dead weight in his arms, but his breathing was already starting to even out when Peter released him and he sunk to the floor again in the bathroom at the end of the hall.

"Don't tell Sirius," he whispered, curling onto his side, pressing his wet face against the cool tiles. He was still clutching it. "Or James. Please."

His voice was so pitiful at the end, Peter would have promised him anything. He wasn't even sure what Remus had to be so ashamed of, he was pretty sure he couldn't go back into the Shrieking Shack without having a panic attack himself at remembering all the crimes he'd done to James and Sirius being laid out in there. He cast his eyes up when he finally heard the book in Regulus's voice, the chapter title confirming this location, but decided to sink to the floor and just sit quietly with him for now.

Remus listened in the smallest part of his mind as if he had transformed to what was going on, but the mention of a werewolf being in there with Arthur only caused him to wince and curl up tighter as he absently wondered at the difference only thirty plus years in advancement had done.

He'd been isolated from everyone the first month he'd been bitten, his own parents had been refused entrance and they'd strapped a muzzle to his face while holding him to the bed so as not to contaminate anything else. At least that poor man didn't seem to be going through that. He shivered into the cool tile and hoped that Regulus hurried up getting him out of here before anyone else found him unable to get over something so long into his past. Maybe they'd been right to keep him away from everyone though, even now. Merlin, what he'd almost done, again...

Lily first realized she'd lost her deck of cards. The hand she'd been holding was at every corner of this place, and likely they'd left the majority of the deck on the table. She sighed and took the time to peek into every door on the second floor, Magical Bugs, but all she got for her efforts was accosted by paintings, one particularly determined one following her through the whole floor convinced she had spattergroit. She had no idea how huge this hospital was, but when she came across a stairwell, she decided to go straight down to the bottom and work her way up. Then she heard the book start anyways and no screams of danger came from anywhere, so she simply sat half-way down instead and let herself have some time to think.

Regulus found himself in some sort of gift shop. He had no idea why someone would want a commemorative tea set of this place, but he repaired the one he'd landed on anyways, and then decided to make a pot while he waited for anyone else to show up. Amongst the stuffed dragons, teddy bears, jewelry, a few scattered cards that must have come with him, and blankets, there was a large section of novels to choose from, including several Gilderoy Lockhart covers, a few romance novels with half-naked blokes on the front that were making out wildly with slinky-topped women, and several kids' books including the Tales of Beedle the Bard. He'd smiled and brushed his fingers over that one, wondering if he should offer it to Evans, or would that be insulting? He didn't want to imply she should know them like any wizard. The book he'd actually been looking for caught his eye anyway as the teapot whistled.

When he was steeping his drink and still no one arrived, he simply flipped it open and decided to read. Maybe everyone just wanted a bit of alone time after being so cramped together for so long, he certainly got himself comfortable and tried to enjoy this as much as he could while worrying about Arthur's survival. Sirius was clearly okay, and Potter obviously didn't want him around intruding regardless, and he definitely enjoyed his quiet respite from anyone else for now as he sorted his own thoughts out while reading.

James went crashing headlong into a desk, and only as he sat up rubbing his head, did a plastic floor guide choose to lose its balance and crack down on him next. He scowled and gave the stupid thing a kick across the room as he stood up and stretched to have a new look around. He was in the lobby of, somewhere, there were chairs all around him and the desk was definitely for some kind of receptionist, but soon the book was in full swing and he shifted uneasily at finding himself alone in a hospital.

His mind first flickered to Remus with worry, he hated being in the Hospital Wing alone for hours at a time and he wanted to go find him. Not to mention he absolutely needed to keep an eye on Padfoot for now, he couldn't get all that blood off his mind no matter how hard he'd scrubbed at the palm of his skin, but where to start looking?

There were some double doors behind the desk on the ground floor, and a stairwell to his right, but after glancing back at the now upside-down floor plan that really gave no hints where the others could be, he went through the double doors first.

He found Padfoot in a predicament, and had to bite his lip from laughing. He'd landed by a very odd contraption, it was mostly a solid white box on wheels almost the size of Hagrid, but had a dozen tubes coming out of it, all differently colored, and at least three were going after the unsanitary pooch in the middle of this place. A green one was making a suctioning noise right over his tail, the blue one was trying to trail along his jowls and collect any spittle that flew free, and the gold one was sweeping frantically around his feet trying to collect the hair he kept shaking loose as he scrambled madly in place trying to bite away all three at once.

He must not have been as quiet as he thought, as those too intelligent gray eyes landed on him, and he gave a solid bark at James. It was years of experience dealing with Sirius in general that translated this to, 'this is all your fault! I could have been rid of this if it wasn't for your stupid, paranoid arse not letting me change back!'

Now laughing freely, he moved forward and gave the machine a gentle push away from him. It came rolling right back, but Padfoot took the distraction to try sprinting off.

His back leg wobbled, and he instead slid ungracefully beneath a bed, James now holding the machine in place as it kept trying to go after him.

"I don't know the spell to make it stop," he got out in between more snickers, that were slowly subsiding as he crawled out from under and gave himself a gentle shake. "So you'd best just go through the doors there, hopefully it won't follow."

Padfoot limped heavily at first, but got a semi-decent stride by the time he was at the double doors. He however was still not coordinated enough to push them open and slip through without them closing back on him, wobbling too much in place on his left side.

Pretending he noticed no such thing, he shot a spell at the nearest bed and transfigured the folded nightgown into a duck. It squawked in alarm and took off, the machine now trundling after the feathers instead. He went over to the doors and casually pushed them open harder than was necessary so that they swung too wide and likely would have hit someone, but by the time they got back into the lobby Padfoot was panting at the foot of the stairs with an uneasy whine.

"Don't," James pleaded, sitting on the floor and just begging him not to try running around this place right now. "Please?" Padfoot hesitated for a long time before limping and curling up under a chair next to him only when the book began. "Sorry Sirius," he whispered, leaning his back against the chair, but just a smidge farther away than was necessary to at least let him pretend he was preserving his pride. Padfoot apparently wasn't going to care for such a thing now, wiggling so that his head was back on James's lap, and the cool metal of the chair legs was pressed into his wounds. James wrapped an arm around his chest, hand placed over his heart once more.

Alice and Frank did find themselves in a locked ward, and it was creepy. Surely a hospital room with multiple patients shouldn't have such, private touches about? At least the cards scattered all over they knew were theirs, the Jack of Spades resting on a signed photo of Gilderoy Lockhart would have been odd otherwise. They spent a decent chunk of time trying to get the doors open, using Alohomora and then shouting for anyone to hear them, maybe something was blocking the other side? But by then the book had confirmed Arthur Weasley was alive and they were coming up here to visit him, and the two just shivered and decided there was nothing for it for now, at least nothing in here was trying to kill them. Maybe this was where Arthur was? But then, where were the others?

Someone at that end must be a Lockhart fan, the place was peppered with pictures of him in a revolting reminder neither of them wanted. Probably a little kid though, Frank deduced as he spotted some joint-up handwriting that definitely needed more practice. At the opposite end was a flowery curtain that was drawn around more beds, and Alice was trying to peek around before she reminded herself there'd be no one in there to insult for looking, but still feeling a little guilty as she pushed it back.

There were two beds very close together, and she imagined fondly for a moment an old married couple in here for something minor and being visited by loads of grandchildren. There were Drooble's Best Blowing Gums stacked neatly on the table closest to her, but she didn't feel right nicking a few even though she'd run out ages ago from her stash back in Honeydukes.

Then she caught sight of the other side of the bed, and frowned in confusion, leaning closer to get a look at the moving pictures. She'd swear she should vaguely recognize them for some reason, especially the much older woman cradling a crying, blond, infant.

"Frank," she called out to him, he was still snooping about the other beds, one of which was covered in brown animal hair for some unbeknownst reason. "Would you come here darling, there's pictures here, I swear I've seen some of them before."

The memory just wouldn't come to her, though now she was looking at him and back, and a cold dread started up her spine. They'd been in the attic, her and Frank, and these had been in a box in his house-

Frank froze and looked at the ceiling, all traces of anything else forgotten as the chapter reached its conclusion, and Mad-Eye Moody all but confirmed You-Know-Who was possessing Harry.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #OotP #Marauders #Wolfstar #Jilly #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Regulus black #Lily Evans #Frank Longbottom #Alice Smith #Peter Pettigrew

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Redemption, My Love

Chapter 8 update Cross posted to AO3 Rated Explicit Important tags: In depth tags warning can be found on AO3)  Lancewain, Slowburn, Found Family, Eventual smut, Warnings for abuse (emotional, physical, mental) of a child, Rape/ Non Con, Self harm, and the rest of the tags that come almost implicitly with an Lancelot/Weeping Monk centered fic.  Side note: Everything happening with NImue and Merlin and the Fey takes place at the same time as the events from chapters 1-6. 

++++Arthur++++

Arthur is locked in discussion with the Red Spear. It is vital they become allies, he knows this, without her and her warriors the Fey would have been wiped out today. There would be none of them left in this group. He would have failed to protect them as Nimue requested.  He must convince them that the Fey are worthy warriors, capable of returning the support of the raiders. For now the most important aspect of discussion is the vulnerability of the beach. If a storm blows in or the tides change, they could be trapped here. Tonight, remaining on the beach is their only option with so many wounded, but tomorrow they must find a more formidable location. Perhaps they can go back to the woods. “We should send scouts at dawn. Then we may burn the dead. When the scouts have returned we will move our injured.” “Aye.” The Red Spear agrees, then continues, “ Supplies will be short with so many mouths to feed. What would you recommend for it?”

“We should ration, immediately. Send out hunters into the woods to bring back whatever they can to offset the difference. And send those who can pass for humans into the nearest town with funds to buy what we can.”  He stands firm beneath the intensity of her gaze. He could swear it's as if she is looking through him, or perhaps she is looking into him. Setting his jaw he forces himself to meet her gaze and finds himself captivated by the angles of her face and the odd jewelry she wears. Shouting pulls him from his distraction and he turns to face a young boy running towards him. “Arthur! It's Nimue, she’s returned with Merlin and Morganna. Hurry, she's been injured!” He follows the boy across red sand, feet pushing against a malleable surface, slowing him as he attempts to reach his lover as quickly as possible. When he turns to call an apology to the Red Spear he finds that she is keeping pace with them. The boy slows to a halt and pants just ahead of him. Pushing through the crowd he comes to a stop, nostrils flaring as he inhales and chest rising and falling quickly.  He watches as Yeva sends Pym to gather something for her and ushers two boys carrying Nimues limp form into a tent. The Moonwing casts a glance and Merlin and despite her obvious disdain for the man, nods, then shakes her head and enters the tent. Pym passes by him and he reaches out grabbing her arm in a vice-like hold. She meets his eyes and he loosens his hold minutely. “Will she be alright?” “We don’t know yet. I have to go and help.” She pushes his hand away and  moves quickly towards the tent. Not quite a run but far from a walk. Her red hair flies freely in the breeze where it has fallen out of its braid, and for a moment he is taken back to the first moment he met these two girls, singing in Hawksbridge. That day feels so long ago. “The girl they carried into the tent. She is Queen of The Fey?” “Yes.” “And is she more than that to you.” He nods, throat to dry from lack of water to speak, and constricted with fear to function. Frantic voices draw his attention and he glances towards Merlin who is speaking urgently with his sister. His feet drag in the sand as he makes his way to their side. “Morgana what happened? Why are you dressed like that?” “It’s a long story Arthur. Nimue was shot twice by Iris. There wasn’t… we couldn’t do anything. She fell off the edge of the walk and into the waterfall. Arthur, we barely found her. She’s freezing cold, cold as death.” “Yeva, is skilled. She will heal Nimue. I am certain.” Merlin suggests, voice shaken but firm in its conviction. “What about you? You're thousands of years old. You're her father. Why don’t you do something?”  Morgana snaps back at him furiously, face drawn tight, and arms wrapped tightly around herself. “ I have not practiced my magic in almost two decades. I'm not sure I can help her. Even if I was certain I wouldn't do more harm than good, Yeva will not let me work beside her. When she is done I will do my absolute best to repair any remaining damage. For now, we must be patient.” The wizard says, inclining his head and leaning heavily on the sword pushed into the sand. His staff gone missing in the fray. Arthur bares his teeth, ready to say something else, to argue, start a fight, but it leaves him just as fast when a hand rests gently on his bicep. His sister looks up at him and he pulls her into an embrace. “Are you hurt?” “No. No I am not. But I have done something I fear cannot be undone.” She trembles in his arms and he can do nothing more than pull her closer, he never could shield her from the world, and now less than ever. He wants to help, but without knowing what has happened he cannot. 

“Morgana? Morgana, what is it?” “Later my brother. Later. For now let us worry about Nimue.”  He mutely agrees and looks between the two as he formulates what needs to be done next. The next thing is the only thing he can think of at this moment or he will go mad. There is so much to consider, so much still to do. Instead he begins to lead them towards the center of the camp. They linger a moment looking at the healers tent before he speaks. 

“You two must be hungry. Let us get you something in your stomachs and dry clothing.”

 None of them will sleep tonight. Not well at least, even with dry clothes and full bellies. So, as they sit around the fire in silence, waiting for whatever news the morning may bring, Morgana and Merlin take their turns explaining what occurred at Uther’s camp. Morgana tells him about Nimue’s plan for her to flee with the sword and how she decided to come back. He listens as she tells him and Merlin about how she had met the widow, and that she had killed her. As he listens to his sister speak, the belief that she is hiding something from him rears its ever present  head and settles low in his gut. Their relationship is tenuous at best and he knows it, so he does not press for clarification or more answers. Just listens silently, idly drumming his fingers against his leg and casting furtive glances at the tent whose walls hide Nimue from them. Neither Pym nor Yeva nor the others have come to tell them anything. Eventually Morgana stops speaking and Merlin begins to explain what Uther has done. “Guinevier, The Red Spear, should hear this as well. She and her troops have agreed to help us, if we in return help them against Cumber’s men. It seems we have a common enemy in him, and now Uther as well.” “And the Paladins?” Morgana inquires looking between them and towards the direction of the raiders. “The raiders have been sacking their camps as repayment for raiding the cities before they get a chance. It is to our benefit.” He offers a small smile to his sister. “Nimue left you in charge, did she?” Merlin adds, looking into the fire. “Yes. She did, is there a problem with that?”  He raises his eyebrow in question and stares at the exhausted looking man. “No. I just find it curious is all.” He aches to slap the smirk off his wine drinking grin. Instead he sends someone to fetch the Red Spear. As they wait the sounds of the camp fill their ears. It is the sound of a war camp. The moans of the injured surround them on all sides in the dark of the night. The chill of the sea breeze billows the tent walls around them and carries the sound of death up the cliffs and over the fields. Whetstone on steel is a comfort against the cries of the heartbroken and injured. Morgana shifts to his right and he turns. “You wish to go help them?” “I would be more useful trying to save a life than sitting here worrying.” She agrees as she stands and disappears into the shadows. Merlin shakes his head and drinks deeply from the goblet in his hand.

When the raider joins them the three discuss the political game they have found themselves in. The Fey have their backs against a wall. If the Paladins, Uther, and now Cumber have sided with each other against them their only real hope is to side with the Red Spear and her raiders. Even then, there is little guarantee that any of them will survive.  

++++Pym++++

Even inside the tent it is cold. She shivers against the breeze and watches as Yeva sets up to begin working. She swallows away the tightness in her throat and approaches cautiously. “I want to help.” “Get her hair dry and get her out of these clothes. The last thing she needs is to catch cold.” The Moonwing bites out as she turns half way around to size Pym up. Half blind eyes meet hers and she wonders how this woman can still see to be a healer. Jumping at Yevas sudden proximity over the table she starts to unlace Nimues bodice with trembling fingers. It takes far too long to undress her friend and get her covered by blankets. Yeva works around her with little difficulty. She is grateful for that small mercy. If she were in the way she isn’t certain she could live with that. For now she stands at the head of the table they’ve laid Nimue on and towels long chestnut locks. 

She doesn’t take her eyes off Yeva as she works. It is inspiring to see old hands, twisted with time and tipped with talons work so delicately with the skin beneath their touch. The shoulder is the most logical place to begin as the arrow has already come loose but Yeva ignores it, looking instead at the bruising forming on Nimue’s head, and sides. She runs her hands over the young Fey’s arms and legs, feeling for broken bones, then down her ribs. “Feel this.” She speaks, low and raspy and Pym jumps again, not having expected for such a request to come from the matron. She extends her shaky hand and Yeva takes it, presses it against Nimue’s ribs and slides it up and down letting her feel just how real the damage is. “She must have hit a lot of rocks when she fell.” The whisper falls from her lips unbidden. It’s stupid. Surely, Yeva has already thought the same thing, but instead of telling her off the woman looks at her and asks, “Why do you think I haven’t started with the arrow wounds?”  With hesitation, Pym considers the options carefully. She isn’t really certain, but there is not a lot of blood which means she should be concerned about infection. “They aren't bleeding? So, it gives you time to look for other injuries?” Yeva meets her eyes and gives a nod. “Now what should we do first?” “Why are you asking me? You're the healer.”  Frustration fills her voice and she tries her best to keep it out but can’t. Her friend is dying and Yeva is standing there asking her questions instead of healing her. “You wanted to help. I am teaching you.”  The old woman answers calmly, turning her back to the girls and reaching for several supplies. Indignant, Pym comes to stand by her, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out. “Well then teach me something!” The glare Yeva sends her way makes her spine tingle, slowly she steps back and lets her arms fall to her sides. “Sorry.” She looks to the ground. “Do not apologize to me. Do better.” The woman says thrusting a bowl half filled with water at her. “Clean the wound on her shoulder.” “Shouldn’t I add something to the water?” “I already have. Now go on.” She doesn't waste another moment to do as instructed and sets about cleaning the wound as best she can. It isn’t very deep into the tissue of the shoulder but she can see the edge of the bone when the debris has been cleared away. “Yeva, I can see the bone of her shoulder. And the skin is hot to the touch.”  The Moonwing healer looks up from her concentration on the arrow lodged in Nimue’s stomach and lets out a long sigh. “Prepare a poultice of yarrow, beeswax and pepper for now. Apply it thickly and wrap it.” Moving away from the table, she finds the ingredients she needs on the table, the flickering light of the candles dancing ominously at the periphery of her vision. Focusing on her task she wills away the tears seeking to fall from the corners of her eyes away and mixes the ingredients. When she turns back around to apply the salve to the wound she finds Yeva cleaning the one on Nimues abdomen. This one does bleed. A lot. She knows from her time on the raider ship that the arrow was keeping the wound sealed. Applying the mixture to Nimues shoulder she watches the matron wipe blood from the entry site and flush the wound out with a mixture of herbs and water. When done she packs the wound with yarrow leaf and applies the rest of the poultice to the outside of the wound and wraps it tight. 

“We cannot stitch these, they are puncture wounds and there is infection in them. We must leave them open to drain. We will check them twice a day. Keep them clean and dressed until she is well. Until then we must keep her warm, and when she wakes keep her from pain as much as possible. Her lungs will ache, as will her leg.” “Her leg?”  The look Yeva gives her could curdle milk, still she does not look away. “What is wrong with her leg?” “It is broken.” “What can we do?” “Thankfully the bone does not need to be set. We must keep it still, until it has mended itself. Go and get the supplies for a splint. You know what's needed?” “Yes.” When it is done, the bone splinted, the wounds wrapped, Pym sits beside Nimue. She holds her cold hand in the darkness of the tent and weeps, keeping vigil until she falls unconscious with the first rays of morning light rising over the sea. ++++Percival++++ “What do we do?” He casts his eyes forward to The Green Knight, then turns to look up at The Weeping Monk. He can feel his blood run cold at the thought of being captured. He remembers the smell of hot iron and burning flesh, old blood and vomit that lingered in the tent he found Gawain tortured in, the one Lancelot rescued him from, and his heart hammers in his chest at it. He remembers the sight of blood, old and dried and cracking, splattered on every surface. The way Gawain looked, bloodied and half dead, slumped against the ropes in the chair. He blinks. Head spinning, he tries to settle his stomach. Someone is speaking but it's like they are miles and miles away and he can barely hear them screaming over the rapid pulse of blood in his ears. He feels like he’s drowning. He closes his eyes against the onslaught of noise and it makes it so much worse. He feels like he’s falling over. “Percival! Percival.” 

There is commotion around him and his right shoulder hurts as if someone has wrenched it behind his back but he can’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. 

“Squirrel? Are you alright? Squirrel.”

He blinks and looks up at The Green Knight and The Weeping Monk, hand on his side and face screwed up in pain, both standing over him. He swallows and tries to take a deep breath as he attempts to sit up. “Careful,” Gawain says, voice steady and calm, though Percival can see the worry creased between his eyes. The Weeping Monk, looms over them both like an ominous statue, watching, he turns, takes a deep breath and winces. “They’re getting closer.” He says turning to look back at them. “Sorry,” Percival starts, looking between them as he runs his sleeve over the sweat on his brow, “What happened?” The shouting in the background grows louder. “We will talk about it later. We need to go. Come on, up you go.” Gawain pulls him along and he climbs up on the mare. He watches him turn to Lancelot. “You said five or six?” “Yes. But it's not exact. It’s never been exact.” “If we need to engage can you fight?” “Yes.” “Alright. We will try to slip away unnoticed. If that fails…” The Weeping Monk nods at him solemn and dark beneath his hood and they both return to the saddle. 

  “Are you going to give him the sword?” He whispers as he leans back against Gawain. He raises an arm up to block a low hanging branch, and The Green Knight does the same. “If I have to.” The response is breathed against his ear as they lean low. “Left!” Lancelot calls from behind, Gawain glances over his shoulder and Lancelot has already cut to the inside, putting himself in the lead. They follow another trail into a valley.  Gawain hot on his heels. When they reach the center, Lancelot breaks off and pulls his horse in a circle. It almost seems like he is looking for something. “Why is he circling like that?” “I don’t know yet.”  

The Weeping Monk comes to a halt facing them, both horses stepping side to side in excitement. 

“The woods are teeming with Paladins. The only way I don’t smell them is directly behind us, and that direction is about to be cut off.”  Percival swallows and tries to keep himself calm. The Green Knight tightens his hold on him for a moment before releasing him. “Then you recommend we fight our way out?”

Lancelot only nods, eyes never leaving Gawain's face. Percival inhales sharply and looks around the spot they have found themselves in. It’s not very defensible. “We need to get up higher.” He says automatically. Both the men with him know this, but he can’t help himself. They should be moving. “You’re right.” Gawain inhales sharply behind him and they fall into unmoving silence. “What are you waiting for, we need to go.” He feels Gawain shift behind him. “Here.” The Weeping Monk eyes the sword for a moment, before nodding slowly. Once the blade is in hand, they climb the otherside of the valley and lead the horses into a thicket. “Percival. Stay here with the horses. Do you understand?” The firmness in Gawain's voice is almost frightening as a heavy hand lands on his shoulder. “Yes. Green Knight.”  He nods urgently and tightens his hand on the hilt of his knife. 

Lancelot whispers something softly to Goliath and hands him the reins. “We should cut back across the valley and take them by surprise.” He watches as Gawain stands and meets the monks eyes again. The two stand at arms length to speak, they can’t give away their location now. “How many now?”  Lancelot adjusts the sword on his belt. “The initial six behind us, another four ahead, and two or three to the right.” “And further this direction?” Gawain points south. “A camp, from what I can tell. Too many to be a scouting or hunting party.” The Green Knight opens his mouth to say something but the monk moves quicker covering it with his hand and using the other to push Gawain further into the brush. Gawain retaliates quickly drawing a knife and pressing it against the others ribs poised to pierce his heart. Lancelot doesn’t flinch. Percival watches in horror as it unfolds to fast for him to help. When they’ve come to a stop barely a foot from him, Lancelot removes his hand from Gawain's chest and holds up an open hand, defensively and tilts his head to the opposite side of the thicket. Gawain, eyes wide, does not move the knife, but gives a slight nod. Lancelot takes a single step backwards and they listen in silence for what seems an eternity.  “Good catch today?” Someone asks. “Good catch? Those are the scrawniest rabbits I’ve ever seen. Barely fit for a stew.” Another supplies gruffly. “At least I caught us something” Another paladin says followed by laughter.  Lancelot tightens his grip on the sword hilt and Gawain does the same, dagger still not lowered, attention caught between the possible enemy and the certain enemy. Percival swallows, they can’t see how many there are. It would be reckless to attack now, but as time drags on the voices grow quieter again. He takes a deep breath. Looks between the two who are watching him and nods. He’s okay. He’s okay. He repeats the line over and over again in his head until he begins to believe it. “What if we wait till nightfall?” He whispers when there have been no signs of the paladins for a while. “Horses could give us away any minute. We need to move.” Gawain murmurs into the air between them. Lancelot nods once in agreement. Slowly the three of them start for the exit of the brushwood. Gawain lets Lancelot lead and Percival doesn’t understand why, but he trusts the Green Knight to know what he is doing. They make it back to the other side of the valley they had crossed before anyone speaks again. “Well then, Monk?” “It’s getting hard to sense their locations. It’s all bleeding together. Two of the groups must have come together here.” Lancelot says turning in a slow circle.  “I do not know which way is safest.” He shakes his head at them. “We need to continue southwest. We should press on, get as far from here as possible before nightfall.” The Green Knight states firmly. There is no room for either of them to argue, not that they would have anyways. The monk mounts his horse and follows beside Gawain in silence. Percival keeps his eyes peeled as they move slowly through the woods. He thinks they should be moving much quicker. 

Eventually they pass by a small stream and rest for a moment. It's at the edge of the woods. The sun is beginning to fade from the sky. Percival drinks deeply from the clear stream and stretches. He feels a little better, still uncertain, still sick to his stomach, and ignorant of how he got on the ground earlier. But the pounding in his head has stopped and while he hates to admit it he hopes he never has to see a paladin again for a very long time. “Should we keep going?” He finally asks when the horses have been fed, watered and tethered and the other two have had a moment to sit. “We will be too exposed in the field.” “We’re too exposed here.” The Weeping Monk counters, softly, voice low enough it would be easy to miss in the commotion of a camp. 

Gawain shakes his head in frustration. Even Percival knows The Weeping Monk is right. “What are the paladins doing all the way out here anyways?” Squirrel asks, trying for casual, but the waver in his voice gives him away and he shrinks under the appraising gazes of the warriors to either side of him. “Search parties most likely.” Lancelot responds offhandedly taking a sip from a waterskin. “Not a main camp then.” “No. More likely, it is a base they spread out from, but it would have no more than 15 or 20 men. Three to five forming a party.” “Hunting Fey.” Percival looks at the ground, even he flinches at the venom in Gawain's voice, but Lancelot does not shy away, “Yes.” The admission slips from his mouth like ash thrown in the air. Percival stands abruptly, panic flooding his body with adrenaline. “What about our prints?” He looks desperately between the two men who also make their way to their feet. They share a knowing look. In its wake Percival feels a stab of betrayal low in his gut as he looks up first at the Green Knight and then at The Weeping Monk. How dare they share something with each other and not him? Hasn’t he known Gawain longer? Besides that, they are supposed to be protectors and they’ve left him vulnerable. They are supposed to protect the fey. Protect each other, now. Protect him. “Percival.” Gawain starts, kneeling to look him in the eye, he pulls away from the hand that tries to rest on his shoulder and inhales harshly. The ring of steel forces him to turn, Lancelot stands facing them, sword in hand. Gawain is too slow. Percival feels a burn like fire across his face as blood soaks his hair and clothes. The ground meets his face and he rolls, instinctively getting to his feet. He turns and draws his knife from his belt but he can't see through the blood in his eyes. 

#Cursed Fanfiction #Cursed TV 2020 #Fanfiction #Lancewain #Lancelot #the Green Knight and The Weeping Monk #The Weeping Monk #The Green Knight #Gawain #Percival #Found Family #Redemption #Chapter 8

[thetimelesscycle]

Tales of Arcadia Wizards Fanfiction: Hope Dies Last - Chapter 4

A common goal fails to foster cooperation, and questions without answers continue to perplex.

A/N: In which I am forced to try and include some actual plot and civil conversations are in short supply.

Chapter 4

A Puzzle Incomplete  

To say that Merlin was furious would have been as wild an understatement as the claim that Arthur was not especially fond of magic. He was not certain there was a word for the incandescent rage boiling just beneath his skin, threatening to dissolve carefully constructed walls that had not crumbled in decades. It took a conscious effort to keep a lid on that fury as he guided his exhausted apprentice to lie down once again, the boy having spent what little strength he’d regained in a few scant minutes. Shivers still wracked his slender frame, his body reacting to the invisible wound festering beneath the surface, though at this point Merlin was more worried about his state of mind.

He had never seen Hisirdoux display such raw terror before, not even at the sword point of Arthur’s knights. Then again, Galahad had only threatened to execute him, not tear his soul to shreds and leave him with the tattered remains.

The worst part was he did not think there were meant to be any remains. Whoever had attacked his apprentice had done so with the intention of destroying him completely. They had come dangerously close to succeeding, thwarted by the boy’s own magic, which raised more questions than it answered. If Hisirdoux had encountered a creature powerful enough to wound him in this way, how was he still alive? How had a child whose own enchantments still flummoxed him fended off that sort of danger?

He wasn’t going to get any answers from Hisirdoux right now, that much was clear. His apprentice was mumbling restlessly in his sleep again, nonsensical words, the delusional arguments of an overstressed mind.

“Tell me you know how to fix this.” Archie had settled himself behind his familiar’s shoulders, one paw draped over the boy’s arm, but his eyes were fixed on Merlin, plea and demand both in that gaze. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I intend to do everything in my power, Archibald.” It wasn’t quite the same lie he’d told his apprentice, trying to soothe the boy’s panic before he did himself further injury, but it wasn’t the whole truth either; He was already doing everything in his power, it simply wasn’t enough.

“That’s not a ‘yes’.” The tiny dragon gave him a look that could almost have been called threatening. “He thinks you’re capable of anything, you know. Maybe it’s time you lived up to the legend.”

Not gracing that barbed statement with a response, he tucked the blanket back about Hisirdoux’s shoulders, pausing just long enough to rest a hand on the boy’s clammy forehead as he renewed his stasis spell for the umpteenth time. That done, he took his leave, refusing to acknowledge Archie’s lingering stare as he slipped out of the room.

Morgana was waiting for him when he reentered the workshop, pacing back and forth with long, sweeping strides, a book held open in her hands. She whirled as soon as the door opened.

“How is he?”

Straight to the point. Her and Arthur were very alike in that way. He didn’t answer at once, drifting across the room to the cluttered workbench by the stained glass windows. There was a fine layer of dust there that had gathered over the past two days, the designs he had been pouring over what seemed a lifetime ago now sitting discarded and forgotten. He sensed Morgana’s impatience as he lifted the page of sketches and idly examined its contents, dropping the weighted truth into the tense silence.

“Slipping away.” It was an inadequate description for what would happen if he didn’t find a way to stop the dark magic from finishing its work. What was confusion and spontaneous panic now would devolve into raving madness as Hisirdoux’s very essence continued to crumble. The boy was already losing memories, the spell he had cast only slowing the process, not preventing it. “I have no doubt this was an attempt to kill him.”

“Why?” Her outrage echoed his own. Where his bubbled beneath a thin veneer of self-control, hers revealed itself in a flash of righteous fury, the room rattling briefly as she paced closer. “He’s a child, Merlin!”

“That I cannot say.” His suspicions, founded on his knowledge of the type of magic it took to cause this kind of injury, seemed ludicrous. Hisirdoux was not trained enough to be a threat to anyone yet — besides himself — and certainly not enough of a danger to warrant such wanton cruelty. The being who had attacked his apprentice under Arthur’s very nose had done so with purely malicious intent. To hurt someone in that way, to threaten not only their life but their existence beyond the mortal plane as well... that was an act of pure hatred. More perturbing still, Hisirdoux appeared to have been the only target. Not even Archie had been wounded, despite the fact the pair of them shared the same bed. “Though I intend to find out.”

“I will help in any way I can,” she asserted, coming to stand on the opposite side of the work table. “What about Douxie? Is there anything he needs? Anything we can do?”

“He needs a proper healer.” Morgana scowled, and Merlin’s own glare deepened out of habit. It was a tall order. Neither of them had a gift for healing magic, formidable wizards though they might be, and those of Camelot’s dwindling magical community who were proficient in the healing arts had been some of the first victims in Arthur’s war against magic. Such individuals were typically well-known and notoriously bad at keeping themselves hidden, driven as they were to put their skills to good use. Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet, but not to the level required to mend someone’s shredded spirit; Certainly not when he was the victim.

“Did he tell you what happened?” Morgana was on the hunt. He’d seen that look enough times to recognise it. “A name? A face?”

“No, not yet.” He could have pushed. It was clear Hisirdoux remembered something, and was deeply disturbed by it. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen not to force the matter. Further stress right now would only make things worse. He also had the image of his apprentice reeling away from him in abject terror ingrained in his mind, and wasn’t in any great hurry to repeat that experience. “We’ll have a chance to ask some more pertinent questions when next he wakes. In the meantime, we should continue our efforts to keep the castle secure.”

“You’re worried about Arthur.”

“He is a rather more likely candidate for assassination than my very green apprentice.”

“You haven’t even considered the possibility that you were the target, have you?” He came up short, casting her a piercing look. Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course you haven’t. He is your apprentice, Merlin. If anyone wanted to draw you out, Douxie is by far the easiest way to reach you.”

It made a disturbing amount of sense, much as he would prefer to deny it. Anyone with even an inkling of familiarity with the royal court would be aware that he would go to Arthur’s aid as required, but the king had an enchanted blade and dozens of trained knights at his beck and call. He would not fall without a fight. Hisirdoux, on the other hand, couldn’t even fend off an enchanted broom. It was entirely possible, even probable, that anyone trying to strike down the Master Wizard would see his apprentice as the weak link in the chain.

Except, that would suggest that the person responsible believed he would set everything else aside to assure the welfare of his student. That assumption was to his advantage; Or, it would have been, had he not spent the last two days doing exactly that. Without the constant renewal of his stasis spell, Hisirdoux might not have survived long enough to regain consciousness. Putting aside his other duties had seemed the right thing to do at the time, weighed against the unnerving thought of no longer having apprentice and dragon constantly underfoot. Morgana was forcing him to face the fact his enemies may have depended upon him making that exact decision, and consider the very real possibility his eyes had deliberately been drawn away from some greater danger.

He wasn’t in the mood to entertain that thought, or to acknowledge the stark fear nipping gently at his heels, so he deliberately set them both aside. There had been no further attacks; It seemed reasonable to assume Hisirdoux was the only target for the time being, as perplexing as that was.

“There is no point speculating until we know more,” he said aloud, knowing the silence had stretched a beat too long. “Better to concentrate on securing our defenses and finding someone to help Hisirdoux.”

“You won’t find anyone in Camelot. You know that.”

That she was right didn’t make him any less aggravated by the observation. “What do you suggest, then?”

“I could try.”

He had not been expecting it, which was the only reason it took him more than a second to formulate his reply. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I think enough damage has already been done without bringing Shadow Magic into the mix, don’t you?”

“I’m not going to hurt him!”

“No, because you will not be using your dark arts anywhere near him. I forbid it.”

She clenched her fists around the volume in her hands, the room rattling again as she stared him down in muted fury. “You know you are part of the problem, don’t you? If you didn’t spend so much time dismissing and demonising that which you don’t understand perhaps Arthur would not feel so justified in destroying every form of magic that does not serve him.”

“Rubbish.” He waved the words away. “We both know where Arthur’s hatred of magic stems from. It has nothing to do with me.”

“You are blind if you truly believe that.”

“And you are wasting my time with pointless arguments in the midst of a crisis. I have better things to do right now than have this discussion with you again.”

He turned towards the door, only to have it come aglow with magic as it slammed shut.

“I am not Hisirdoux to be dismissed whenever you don’t feel like listening.”

“More’s the pity.” He swung back around to face her with his condemnation. “I did at least think you had enough regard for the boy not to delay my work.”

The glare she fixed on him could have quelled Gunmar himself. Merlin simply glared right back, raising an imperious eyebrow in that way he knew she hated.

“Waiting and hoping you’ll think of something is not the answer, Merlin, as you well know. You just don’t want to admit it.”

“What I refuse to admit is that diving headfirst into the Shadow Realm is a viable solution to the problem at hand. Because it isn’t.”

“You don’t know that.” She gestured with the book in her hands. Not one of his library; He had never encouraged this exploration of dark magic. He didn’t even know where she had happened across it, only that he deeply regretted not having snatched it away to cast into the fire years ago. “You don’t know Shadow Magic. How can you be so certain it won’t work?”

“Common sense, girl.” She glowered at the title, a humbling she had earned with her adamance. “Double the poison does not make a cure.”

“There is nothing there to cure.” She slammed her hand palm down on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin marked Archie emerging from the bedchamber, though whether he intended to intervene or simply wanted to be closer to the unfolding argument was debatable. “Whatever magic did this to him destroyed parts of his soul. They’re not there to be mended, they’re gone. He’s not a torn cloak, Merlin. You can’t just tie the pieces that remain together and hope it’s enough to cover what is missing. Even if you get him back on his feet you will stretch him so thin you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t kill himself the first time he tries to cast a spell!”

“And how would you know that, hmm? What extensive well of experience are you drawing your theories from?”

“This.” She lifted up the spell book, shoving it at his chest. He seized it on instinct, and she took the opportunity to pluck several more volumes off the table and toss them in his direction as well. He caught those with magic, which was preferable to his face, and watched her storm closer whilst struggling to contain his own rising ire. “You are so convinced that your way is the only way that it has never even occurred to you that I chose to study Shadow Magic for this very reason. For when other means are not enough. You have no idea how it works because you think it is beneath you. I do know. I can use it. And I know that if we have any hope of restoring Douxie’s soul the Shadow Realm is our best chance. Somebody tore that boy to pieces, Merlin, what’s missing doesn’t exist in this world anymore, but that sort of dark magic leaves a trail. I can save him if you will just trust me.”

“And when what you save is not Hisirdoux? When you patch him back together with dark magic and corrupt him entirely? What then, Morgana?”

“I know the difference.”

“No, you think you know the difference, and I will not wager my apprentice’s life on your arrogance.”

“My arrogance? You are the old fool who can’t see past your own self-importance to what your inaction has cost us all! You could have stopped Arthur years ago if you so chose, but you needed him to keep you safe so you could continue your all important work, at the cost of the hundreds of innocents you abandoned. The only reason your apprentice ever needed saving was because you were too much of a coward to stand up to your king!”

“How dare you—!”

“Stop it, both of you!” The outburst was such a surprise that Merlin was actually struck to silence, turning in tandem with Morgana to stare at the small dragon glaring at them both with a baleful expression. “What you seem to be forgetting is that this isn’t your decision to make, it’s Douxie’s. He is the one who has been hurt here, and you deciding what is best for him without bothering to even ask what he thinks is not going to help matters at all. When he wakes up we will all have a civilised discussion on what the best thing to do is. Until then, perhaps you two Master Wizards can put your heads together and properly figure out who was responsible for this. Before they do the same thing to someone else.”

The ensuing hush was awkward, to say the least. Archie refused to back down, standing with wings flared and lips curled back in a faint snarl as he tried to look as intimidating as a dragon that didn’t come up to one’s knees could. Merlin was the first to turn away, stalking back to the table to set down the books Morgana had flung at him in her fury. Unfortunately for him, years spent as his student had taught her to read his silences better than anyone else, and there was disbelief in her eyes when he turned back to face the pair of them.

“You already know, don’t you?” she accused.

“I suspect,” he defended himself. “That is not the same thing as knowing.”

“Yes, yes, it’s completely different,” Archie pressed impatiently. “Who do you suspect is responsible then?”

He had not been ready to disclose this much to anyone just yet. Sadly, he could not see a way out of it without inciting another argument. It was a small miracle they hadn’t already woken Hisirdoux with all the shouting that had been going on, and he didn’t want to subject himself to Archie’s righteous anger should it start up again. Instead, he adopted the stance of a teacher once more, marching back and forth as he spoke, “The ability to injure someone in this way is not common. Shadow Magic might allow you to tether a soul to a traumatic memory, hold it in place, twist it until it bends to your will, or rip it from its mortal flesh entirely, but it does not allow you to cause irreparable harm. This is something older, darker. This is the Arcane Order.”

Morgana exchanged a glance with the familiar, then asked the expected question, “What is the Arcane Order?”

“You mean who,” he held up a finger to emphasise his point. “They are a trio of ancient wizards who protect the balance between the magic and the mortal worlds by rendering destruction on those they perceive to be a threat. If you want to blame anyone for the world’s growing mistrust of magic, Morgana, the Order should be at the top of your list. To say that they are responsible for the deaths of hundreds would likely be understating the bloody mark they have left on history. Part of the reason I aided Arthur in uniting Camelot was because it was becoming abundantly clear I could not continue to fight them on my own, and the divisions amongst the mortal kingdoms made them easy prey. The Order has been quiet since Arthur came to power; I might have known they were planning something.”

“Why Douxie, though?” Archie wondered aloud. “Why not Arthur? Why not you?”

“I do not know.” It grated to admit that much. Morgana’s theory might hold some merit, but he still didn’t understand why the Order would not have come for him directly. He was not an easy mark, but he was not unreachable either. “If it was the Arcane Order, then I do not even know how Hisirdoux survived. These are beings older than nearly any other that walks the earth. Hisirdoux is a child. It doesn’t make sense.”

“We are missing something,” Morgana agreed, leaning across the table to emphasise her next point. “So let me look for it.”

He folded his arms, making his disapproval known. “We are going in circles, Morgana. The answer is still no.”

“But—!”

“Enough!” He called his staff to his hand from across the room just to add the force of slamming it on the ground to his words. “I need to go make sure our king is kept informed of this potential threat. If you want to make yourself useful, try searching my library for a solution that won’t simply kill the boy faster.”

“Kill?” Archie’s head shot up, eyes wide behind his glasses. “He’s dying?”

Merlin took that as his cue to leave the room. Let Morgana be the one to break the bad news. If she was doing that perhaps she wouldn’t feel tempted to go rooting through every scrap of forbidden knowledge Arthur had not yet managed to destroy.

A doubtful outcome, but a wizard could hope.

Right now, that seemed like all he could do.

Story Canon Notes:

"Hisirdoux had shown some aptitude for minor healing charms using his runic bracelet..." - Not strictly canon, but Douxie's role in the Trollhunters game is team healer, which at lease loosely implies he has some sort of remedial spell in his arsenal. His (minor) injuries also disappear between scenes in Episode 8, and I assume he was going to attempt to use some sort of healing spell on Merlin before Merlin stopped him.

#hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia #toa wizards #toa merlin #toa morgana #Hurt/Comfort #Angst #Fanfiction #toa archie

[kian-bera]

Merlin was exhausted from work. Trying to keep up with the hustle and bustle of customers at Christmas was exhausting. He loved to help people find the magic of books though, they were all he had left of the world he once knew. The world when Camelot and all of Avalon still existed. The world, where Arthur was still alive. There was a knock at the door and Merlin just sighed before getting up. He opened the door and saw Leon standing there with Christmas Eve dinner, just like every year.

"Happy Christmas." Leon said sadly as he leaned against the door post.

"Happy Christmas Leon. Come in." The two men walked to the kitchen table and sat down, the only light came from the street lights and a few lights that lit Merlin's small tree in the corner. "Do you ever think this will end?"

"I do not know Merlin. Maybe one day, somehow we will see Avalon rise again, we will see Arthur and Gwen and all of our friends once more gathered at the round table. Or we will be here for another 1500 years wishing and hoping that we can find a way to end this stupid immortality thing and finally just die of old age."

Merlin just nodded and dug his food out of the fast food bag in front of him. The two sat in silence as they ate, the only sound was that of the cars and the late city life down below. Leon and Merlin eventually made their way to the couch and curled up together to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" as they have always done since the movie came out. Leon put a blanket over Merlin once he finally fell asleep halfway through the movie. When they woke up, the news was on about two men who had been arrested early that morning. Leon nudged Merlin awake.

"Merlin, my eyes could be deceiving me, but is that Arthur and Gwaine?" Leon asked, shaking his head. The news reporter popped up on the screen.

"Good morning London. This morning, these two men were caught soaking wet and screaming for the mythical wizard Merlin. One keeps claiming he is the King of Camelot himself Arthur, while the other insisting he is Sir Gwaine of the infamous round table. If anyone can come and get them, the officers who arrested them would be grateful." The camera cut to a picture of Gwaine and Arthur sitting in a holding cell still in armour. Their swords and Arthur's cape had been taken and the armour might have been taken, but it looks like they put up a fight.

Merlin and Leon jumped up and threw on a pair of matching Christmas sweaters Leon had gotten them years ago as a joke gift. Merlin quickly grabbed his keys and ran to his car. After all these years of having one, he still did not completely understand how all the mechanics worked even though he had a drivers license. He preferred his bike, but he would need more than one seat.

When they got to the police station, Merlin and Leon walked up to the information desk and inquired about Arthur and Gwaine. Leon told the officer that the two had been drunk at a dress up Christmas party and had gotten drunk. They had wandered off and no one could find them. Leon paid the bail while Merlin waited for Arthur and Gwaine to come up. Once they were there, the men were given back their chainmail and swords before Merlin tackled Arthur.

"Where are we, and why won't these knights listen to me?" Arthur questioned, a bit annoyed.

"Arthur, I will answer all your questions later, okay? We need to get you back to my flat and out of the armour."

"You are right Merlin, it really does need polishing doesn't it?"

"Yes, now come on." Merlin dragged Arthur and Gwaine to his car where Leon was waiting for them. Merlin helped them into the car and just sat there in the passenger seat, mixed emotions swimming through his brain. When they got back to Merlin's flat, Merlin and Leon took them inside.

"Do you have any spare clothes?" Leon asked Merlin.

"Why would I want to wear Merlin's clothes?" Arthur asked plopping down on the couch.

"Because you need to fit in." Merlin told him going to his closet in his bedroom. Gwaine followed him to the bedroom.

"What is all of this new stuff? Like what was that carriage that we were just in?" Gwaine questioned watching Merlin throwing clothes into his bed.

"I will attempt to explain everything to you and Arthur. Please go back to the living room with them." Merlin shooed Gwaine out of the room. Once Gwaine was out, Merlin shut the door before running over to his pillow and screaming into the soft fabric. Afterwards he sat up, and grabbed a shirt and a pair of sweatpants someone had given him, that were big on himself. He came out and told Arthur to change into them in the bathroom while he found something to wear for Gwaine. The issue was Gwaine was taller than he was, so he wanted to find something that would be long enough to cover his legs.

"MERLIN COME HELP ME PLEASE!" Arthur yelled from the bathroom. Merlin just laughed as Arthur tried to get his head through the turtle neck shirt he had given to Arthur. "Don't just stand there, help me." Merlin just shook his head and went over to help Arthur with the shirt.

"Arthur what do you remember?" Merlin asked, pulling the neck of the shirt over Arthur's head.

"I was stabbed by Mordred. You have magic. I died with you holding me in your arms. What happened after Camelot lost their King Merlin? How did Guivere fair? Did she remarry? Was their an heir to the throne? Who all survived? Did my knights make it home? I mean Gwain was with me when we came from the lake, so I suppose he died."

"Arthur calm down one question at a time okay? You will overload yourself. Camelot mourned for you Arthur. The people, they loved you. Every year on the eve of when you died there was a vigil. Guivere was out of it for a while, royal advisors kinda took over making decisions. Once she came around, she was a wonderful queen. She did you proud, Arthur." Merlin took a step back and smiled.

"What about the rest of my questions?"

"Those should be answered by the man in the living room with Gwaine."

"Wait there was someone else here?" Arthur questioned heading for the door.

"Yes, I wasn't driving the car with magic. Right you don't know what a car is or how it works. Right."

Leon and Gwaine sat at the table laughing. Gwaine had found the basket of apples Merlin kept in the kitchen to snack on when he was writing. His laptop sat on a small table with a bunch of sticky notes around it on the wall.

"By the way Merlin, when I saved your busts at the tavern, that was an act of heroism, I mean who else would take on those bullies." Gwaine said smiling. He took the Apple core and tossed it into the trash can.

"Good morning Arthur." Leon said, smiling. Arthur gasped and ran over to Leon. "I've missed you. Merlin has been teaching me poetry you know."

"How dare he teach you poetry, that's my thing." Arthur gave a small laugh. "Merlin said I should ask you about what happened to Gwen after I died. Does Merlin not know?"

"He does, but it was a rocky time for him. About three years after your death, I...Gwen and I got married and I became the new King of Camelot. We had two sons. The oldest we named Arthur in honor of Camelot's once and future king. The younger of the two we had several years later, we named him Elyan after Gwen's brother. They grew up to be strong knights and princes, and long after Gwen passed away, I stepped down as King and let Arthur and his wife Elizabeth take over as King and Queen. They ruled Camelot with honor and dignity until they died and then their son Emeyrus took over as King. So the line went down for another 250 years. Then one harsh winter, a famine took over Camelot and all of Avalon. All the kingdoms fell to the Saxons and Avalon was lost forever. All that's left is the pillar in the lake, Merlin and myself."

"If there is one more question I may ask? What happened after the battle?" Arthur asked tears in his eyes. Leon knee what he meant by everyone.

"Only myself and Percival survived." Arthur just nodded. "I'm not sure if Gwaine remembers but he was tortured to death by Morgana."

"So, Merlin got mad at you for taking Gwen's hand in marriage?"

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS LEON! ARTHUR WAS OUR FRIEND!"

"Merlin calm down please..." Leon went to lay a hand on his shoulder, but Merlin pulled away, tears streaming down his eyes. He wanted to run far away, where no one knew who he was, or what had happened. "Merlin please, I know you are still upset about Arthur. We all are, but we have to move forward for the sake of Camelot."

"For the sake of Camelot." Merin echoed. "Camelot this and Camelot that, everything is done for the sake of Camelot." Merlin shook his head and ran off to the stables. He had a bag packed and a horse ready to leave. He hopped up and took off into the forest. He went to the one place he felt safe. He rode to the lake.

When Merlin arrived, he left his horse in the tree line and went down to the edge of the lake. The water was lapping against the shore harshly as a storm was blowing in from the north. Merlin did not care though. He did not want to hear the wedding bells.

"Hi Arthur, so Leon and Gwen are getting married today. I want to be happy for them, I really do, but at the same time, I want you to be home. I want you to come home like they said you would. I want to believe more than anything that you will rise from the lake. It hurts without you Arthur, as annoying as you could be dollaphead, I never realized how much I needed you." Merlin heard a snap and turned around. Percival came down to the water and sat beside Merlin. "I thought you would be a Leon and Gwen's wedding."

"I was going too, but then I saw you ride off and crying. I figured you'd be here talking to Arthur. It's what you do when you're upset."

"Thank you Perse. I guess I just hoped that Arthur would return."

"We all do." Percival told  Merlin, hugging him close.

"Yeah he wouldn't talk to me for weeks, but he finally came around and accepted our marriage. I think he was just hoping you would come back and fix everything."

"Thank you Leon, for everything." Arthur told him.

"Of course Arthur, while I may have become the king, you were and still are my king and I am proud to serve by your side." There was a bright flash of light from outside the flat and people started screaming. The four ran to the window and glanced down. There she was, Morgana in the flesh standing on the ground with Aithusa by her side. Morgana glanced up at the boys and smirked. She began to chant and Merlin told everyone to get away from the windows. The window shattered, and Merlin took most of the damage as he was still right in front.

"MERLIN!" Leon ran over and checked for damage. Merlin was bleeding but he had curled up that most of the glass didn't hit anything major.

"COME OUT HERE COWARDS OR SHALL THIS NEW CITY AND KINGDOM FALL TOO!" Morgana shouted from the ground. Arthur ran over to the window, glancing down at her.

"You will never win Morgana, now go back from whatever corner of the death that you came from."

"Never, I lost my chance once, I will not lose this battle again." Morgana hopped on Aithusa and rode off into the distance. Arthur just stood there glancing at the people below who were confused and scared.

"Hey Leon...er King?" Merlin asked, trying to figure out how to address the new ruler.

"Just Leon is fine Merlin. You are an old friend and such formality is not needed."

"Okay Just Leon." Merin cracked a small smile and laughed.

"Is that a smile I see?" Queen asked, walking over to the men.

"Maybe....." Merlin replied. Leon hugged him close. "We have missed this Merlin."

"Well dollaphead I should get to work then. What will it be, polishing armour, scrubbing the floors. Have I mentioned polishing armour." Merlin gave the first true smile he had given in three years. Gwen laughed and hugged Merlin as well.

"Armour sounds good, but we have a trip to go on first." Leon told him. Leon took him down the hall and to the great hall.

"The stables are that way Leon." Merlin said, pointing in the opposite direction.

"I know they are, but this trip is within the castle walls." When they got to the room, Leon had Merlin close his eyes and led him across the room. "Now open." Merin opened his eyes to see a red curtain.

"Wow Just Leon, that's impressive." Leon scoffed and nudged Merlin.

"Let then open the curtain first." The curtains opened and there stood a bronze statue of Arthur and Merlin. They stood side by side, swords drawn. Merlin hugged Leon and sobbed into his chest. "Shhh it's okay Merlin, I knew you would want something to honor Arthur and I thought that having you two together would be even better. You two were always together no matter what."

"Thank you Leon. For everything. I'm glad you became the king." Merlin took a step back and wiped his eyes.

Arthur returned to where Leon was helping Gwaine pick glass out of Merlin's side. Arthur sat beside them and tried to help. Every time they pulled out a piece, Merlin flinched. Arthur eventually had to pull away because he started to tear up. They had only been reunited for less than a day and Merlin was already hurt trying to save him.

"Is there anything I can do? Like get some water?" Arthur asked, pacing the floor.

"Uh yeah, the cups are in the cabinet. Sink water is fine." Leon told Arthur pointing to the kitchen. Arthur went over and found a cup.

"Where did you say the pump was?" Arthur asked.

"Oh see the sink?"

"Yes."

"Pull that silver lever gently." Arthur nodded and put the cup under the spout and pulled the level.

"Wow it doesn't stop after a few seconds. You don't have to pump the water."

"No you don't, it's quite nice." Arthur brought the cup of water back and went back to playing with the sink. "Arthur dont run too much water, we have a high water bill as it is."

"Water bill? Like you have to pay to have this running water?" Arthur asked.

"Yes you do." Leon told him helping Merlin, who was now awake, to the table.

"I never did ask. What year is it?" Arthur questioned finding other things in the kitchen to play with.

"It's 2020." Merlin replied weakly.

"But that means...It's been 1500 years." Gwaine said sitting down.

"Yeah." Leon and Merlin replied in unison.

"Hey Leon calm down, it will be alright. Gwen is a strong woman. She will be fine." Merlin told Leon trying to  calm him down. After a few hours, Leon was finally allowed inside Gwen's bedroom. She was asleep, but her lady In waiting was holding a newborn baby boy. She handed Leon his son and smiled.

"He is perfectly healthy Sire, no problems at all. And Gwen is fine, she is just tired and needs some rest." She explained to the king.

"Oh yes of course, can I?"

"Go ahead sire." Leon held his newborn son close to his chest and smiled at the small child wrapped in a wool blanket. He walked to his chambers while Merlin ran ahead and opened the door. Leon sat on his bed while Merlin stood there awkwardly.

"Merlin why don't you take the rest of the day off. You were up with me early this morning and have been there for me all day. It is the least I can do after all you've done."

"Are you sure Leon?"

"Yes I'm sure now shoo, flee, go enjoy yourself. I'll have a guard find you if I need you." Leon smiled at him and waved him out.

"Thank you Leon." Merlin smiled and walked out the door. He knew that Leon had told him to go, but he sat right outside the door and fell asleep.

"So, what kind of story are you writing?" Gwaine asked Merlin trying to get him to talk.

"A story about Camelot. The true story, not what legend has told. Oh Arthur pulled this fancy sword name Excalibur from a stone and now he's this king of this amazing kingdom. Like sorry, but he was already king when he pulled Excalibur from the sword. That was just reassurance that he was the true king of Camelot since he had lost faith."

"You are telling the truth." Arthur replied, smiling.

"I'm telling our story." Merlin told him, smiling back as he tried to sit up in his chair. "Now enough dilly saddling. Morgana is back, what are we going to do?"

#merlin #merlin bbc #king arthur #merlin pendragon #arthur pendragon #arthur merlin #morgana #sir gwaine #sir leon #morgana pendragon #merthur #bbc merthur #sir percival #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #merlin fandom

[bearfeathers]

11 for Percilot

11. A surprise kiss.

Martin’s feelings for James are… complicated. He knows that’s putting it lightly, but examining it any closer would put him too far out of his comfort zone at the moment. 

He stokes the fire, thankful he’d managed to stumble upon this abandoned cabin in the middle of the blizzard they found themselves caught in. He assumed it was abandoned, anyway; although well kept, the thick layer of dust gave the impression that the owners had closed it up for the season some years prior and simply never returned. In any case, he’s sure that the two of them seeking shelter here for a few days wouldn’t be too much to ask.

Their mission to Japan had gone sour at the tail end, when an unexpectedly fierce blizzard had descended on the Hakkōda Mountains. Communication with Central had grown spotty, but he’d been able to understand Merlin enough to receive his orders: find shelter and lay low until the storm passed. It had hardly been easy trudging through the storm with an unconscious Lancelot on his back, but he’d managed all the same. Though his body begged him to rest, he’d needed to see to James first, not to mention secure the cabin and get a proper fire going.

“Where are we and why does it feel like someone’s stabbing me in the head with an ice pick?”

Martin glances over his shoulder to find James has come ‘round and is struggling to sit up from the futon Martin had tucked him into. Abandoning the poker by the fireplace, Martin rises to retrieve a glass of water and two aspirin; something he hadn’t been able to get into him while he was unconscious.

“We’re in a cabin in the Hakkōda Mountains. You took a bit of a bump to the head,” Martin tells him, filling a glass of water from the well pump.

“Mmph,” James grunts, seemingly not too happy as he gingerly inspects the goose egg on the back of his head. “And the assignment?”

“Taken care of,” Martin declares, depositing the aspirin and glass of water in his hands. “Even if our tail survived the slip down the slope, I doubt very much they’d survive out in this blizzard. Speaking of which, we’re to wait it out here. Extraction won’t be possible until the storm blows over.”

James downs the pills as well as the entire glass’s contents before snorting in amusement. “You know, when I mentioned wanting to take a holiday in the mountains, this wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers, Lancelot,” Martin replies, rising to resume his task of getting the fire burning strong.

He’s glad at least that James is awake and talking. It doesn’t seem that he’s terribly concussed either, which is another weight off his mind. Not for the first time, Martin wishes Harry had been well enough to take this assignment as he was supposed to. Not that he doesn’t care for the other man’s health, but when he’d collapsed with an apparent bout of the flu, James had been the only one available to take his place. Being trapped for days in a cabin with Harry? Not a problem. Being trapped for days in a cabin with James? Problem.

A few months prior, James and Bors had been on an assignment in New York. Unfortunately, they happened to get caught in the middle of what would become the worst terrorist attack in history - the September 11th attack on the World Trade Center. They’d lost contact with their two agents for reasons even Merlin couldn’t explain. As the news began to roll in, Martin had felt a growing sense of dread when he realized James and Bors had been inside the North Tower when the first plane had struck.

Merlin had frantically tried to re-establish communication, but when they watched the North Tower collapse, Martin had been sure they were gone. The jumble of confusing feelings he had harbored for nearly a decade were suddenly blanketed by regret. Though he’d never been able to work out exactly what James meant to him, the sharp sense of loss incurred by this development confirmed that James meant something to him.

Only James and Bors hadn’t perished. Merlin had been able to get them back online after some feat of technical magic. With Arthur’s permission, they’d abandoned their mission in favor of assisting with the clean up before returning a few days later. Martin hadn’t even been able to wait for them to make it up the stairs and had hurried out to meet them, standing in the rain like a fool. Yet once he was in front if James, he realized he had no idea what he wanted to say. He’d haltingly admitted he was glad James was alive… but hadn’t said anything else.

Since then he had avoided James as best he was able, feeling more confused than ever. Stuck together in a small cabin in the middle of a blizzard, this was not so easily done.

“Did you carry me here?” James asks suddenly, intruding on his thoughts.

“I couldn’t exactly drag you,” Martin replies.

“How far?”

“Not far.”

“Martin.”

That tone. It’s something he’s grown to recognize in the past four years. Essentially, it’s James telling him to cut the shit.

“I was only walking for a few hours,” Martin says offhandedly.

“Christ, you… Would you rest? Please?” James sighs.

“I will as soon as the fire is going steadily,” Martin replies.

“If it was going any steadier, you’d burn the bloody cabin down,” James grumbles. 

Martin is surprised when James deposits himself on the floor beside him, the quilt that had been over him dragged along for the ride. But he doesn’t say anything further. He simply sits quietly, watching Martin feed wood into the flames, prodding it with the poker. Martin isn’t sure if that’s better or worse. At least a half hour passes this way and for a short time, Martin thinks that perhaps James will leave the matter be.

“Have I done something to you?” James asks out of the blue.

Martin pauses, his mind going in a hundred different directions. Had he done something? In a manner of speaking. Slowly, Martin resumes prodding the wood pile.

“What makes you think that?” he asks.

“You’ve been avoiding me for the past few weeks. And yes, I have noticed,” James informs him. “I thought it must be something I’d done, but I can’t for the life of me think of anything.”

Of course they would get to this eventually. It would be impossible to leave it unaddressed with as much time as they’ll be spending together. He just didn’t think he’d have to discuss it right off the bat.

“You haven’t done anything,” Martin says, setting the poker aside.

“Then what?” James wants to know.

Martin can’t bring himself to speak. He’s not sure what to say as the two of them sit before the fire. There’s too many reasons; things which wouldn’t make sense to someone like James. Things which would sound ridiculous.

“Martin,” James presses. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t tell Arthur or any of the others. Lord knows I have enough I wouldn’t like them to know myself.”

Of course James tries to lighten the mood with humor. That’s just what James does. It’s part of why Martin… well.

“You… frighten me,” Martin says quietly.

“I frighten you?” James echoes, seemingly unable to decide between disbelief and horror.

“I suppose that’s not an entirely accurate statement,” Martin sighs, rubbing his forehead. “It would be more accurate to say that you… when I’m near you… What I mean is that being close to you makes me feel… things that I don’t understand. That frightens me.”

“…I see,” James murmurs. “And these… things that you’re feeling. What are they?”

Martin shakes his head. “I don’t know. Conflicting things. I find I’m pleased when you’re near, but I want to push you away at the same time. Because it’s too much. But then, as relieved as I feel when you’ve left, I wish you would come back. When you were in New York I…”

He frowns, looking for the right words. James doesn’t dare interrupt, silently watching him, waiting for him to continue.

“You came back and I was very, very… pleased that you were unharmed,” Martin tells him. He was more than pleased but he’s not sure he can find a word for it. “Yet at the same time, your return caused me some anxiety. It meant I would be subjected to those confusing feelings again. It’s difficult. I don’t know how to make sense of it. I’ve consulted Morgana, though she’s advised me I’m not ill.”

“Of course you’re not ill,” James tells him. “Feeling those things doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

“But there is,” Martin argues. “Because whenever you’re near, my priorities change. Seemingly against my will. I feel as though I can’t perform my duties as I should when I find myself putting you before them. I don’t know how to stop it. I’ve tried. But every time, I see you and I just can’t help - ”

Martin had expected James to grow tired of their conversation, he just hadn’t expected him to put a stop to it this way. James’s hand is cupped at the base of his skull, holding Martin in place as he presses their lips together. Martin freezes, unsure how to react to something he hadn’t anticipated as a result of this talk. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to think past the roaring in his ears and the pounding in his chest.

All too soon, it feels, James has drawn back, though not away. His hand slides forward until his palm rests against Martin’s cheek and he simply waits for Martin to get his bearings. All at once he feels please stop conflicting with please come back.

“Alright?” James asks.

Martin nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. He thinks so. He thinks he is. He opens his eyes to find James watching him with a heavy look of concern, perhaps thinking he’d gone too far.

“Martin, I understand this is confusing for you,” James says, his voice a low rumble as he speaks with his face just inches away from Martin’s own. “But I’d like to help you try to make sense of what you’re feeling; even if it means discovering you don’t want me near. Because I want to be near you. I have for a very long time, if I haven’t made that obvious by now.”

Martin simply nods, not sure he trusts himself to speak just yet. James had never been shy about flirting with Martin any chance he got. But all it had ever done was make Martin anxious. He associated James with the biggest upheaval to ever occur in his life; his decision to withdraw from Cambridge, his refusal to take over his father’s law firm, his parents subsequently disowning him. When James reappeared in his life as a proposal for Lancelot’s title, Martin had panicked. What Harry had originally assumed was nervousness resulting from a crush was actually flat out terror at the prospect of his life being turned upside down again.

But James hadn’t done anything of the sort. Instead he had pursued Martin relentlessly, apparently having looked for him after he’d withdrawn from Cambridge but having been unable to fine him. And Martin gradually grew used to James’s presence. Until this began happening. These strange, conflicting, confusing feelings. Feelings similar to those he’d had for Harry and Merlin, but frightening in their intensity. It was impacting his ability to perform effectively as an agent and he was sure it was some malady which Morgana would be able to right. Except it wasn’t.

James had made his interest in Martin obvious, but Martin wouldn’t have known how to respond if he’d tried.

“Martin, are you sure you’re alright?” James asks again.

Martin nods a third time.

“You know, I do care about you outside of… well, my romantic endeavors,” James informs him. “This isn’t just about what happened between us at Cambridge. Admittedly your way of thinking can be difficult for me to grasp at times, but if you’d allow me, I’d like to try to work all of this out. We can go slowly. As slowly as you need.”

“James, I don’t think you understand what you’re setting yourself up for,” Martin says at last. “I’ve never done this. It’s not going to be like whatever relationships you’ve had in the past. You’re going to get hurt, I can tell you right now.”

“You make it sound as though you’re some sort of monster,” James says laughingly.

Martin isn’t laughing.

“Martin, stop,” James urges him. “Look, I don’t care if I get hurt. Getting hurt is part of what comes with being in love with someone.”

“Being in…?” Martin echoes curiously.

“Well, I am,” James says matter-of-factly. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate, of course. Though I hope one day you might. However, I hope that doesn’t intimidate you?”

It overwhelms him. They’re not words he’s ever heard before and he doesn’t know what to do with them. But as confused as he may be, one thing remains undeniably true: he trusts James. When James says they can sort through these complicated feelings together, Martin finds he believes it. He inhales deeply.

“It does,” Martin responds. “But if you’re willing to try… whatever it is we’re going to try… then it’s alright if it intimidates me right now. I’d like to try and get to a point where it doesn’t.”

“And I’d like to help you get there,” James says softly. “If you trust me to.”

“I do,” Martin answers. “I trust you.”

He looks into vibrant blue eyes, seeing the flames of the fire reflected in them. He knows James likely sees the same reflection in his own eyes. It’s fitting, he thinks. They’re both bound to be burned by this, more than once. But that prospect doesn’t seem quite as frightening if James will be with him.

“James, may I kiss you?” Martin asks.

A large, please grin stretches across James’s face. “I’d like it very much if you did.”

Martin leans forward, remembering when he’d done the same that night in Cambridge. When he’d thrown caution to the wind and let his curiosity for James lead him to the man’s bed. It had felt… natural. In a way he was unfamiliar with. Everything about that night was unfamiliar, but something had clicked into place. He still isn’t sure exactly what, but -

“Ouch, ouch!” James hisses suddenly, pulling back.

“Oh,” Martin murmurs, realized his hands had wandered; one sliding through James’s hair and encountering the sizeable lump left by a rifle butt. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” James assures him with a smile, his hand pressed to his head. “Like I said, I don’t mind getting hurt.”

It’s a silly remark, Martin knows, not at all the sort of hurt they’d been referring to. But he finds that as James wraps them both up in the quilt he’d dragged over, perhaps silly is something he could learn to live with.

#kingsman #percilot #percival (kingsman) #lancelot (kingsman) #well this got out of hand lmao #kingsman fic

[superqueerwritingfangirl-blog]

Star Wars (Part 1)

Fandom: Merlin

Character Ship: Merlin x Reader

Word Count: 1729

Request: “Hi there, I love your stories and I had a Merlin x reader request. I rewatched the movie Stardust lately and the idea of a fallen star reader came to my mind, She has to keep it a secret because people use stars to stay young forever. Possibly she glows more around Merlin but plays it off with "that's what stars do"and maybe the reader is a little afraid merlin might use her for that?? Idk sorry if this is scrambled or doesn't make much sense. Anyway, Love ya” from anon

Author’s note: Oh my god!! I love Stardust so much!! I remember watching it when I was seven (when it first came out) and I was absolutely in love!! I’ve seen it a few times after but not recently. I went to rewatch it on Netflix before writing this but they took it down, so sorry if it isn’t accurate. This is ending up to be a two-parter because you started something in this girl.

A bright light shot across the midnight sky and suddenly the whole kingdom erupted with excited whispers. Shooting stars weren’t a rare occurrence to be seen in the starry night but when said shooting star hits the earth the whole world clammers for the magic that illuminates from the star. The greed surrounding a star has the ability to start and end a war in a matter of seconds, but stars have the abilities to bring nations together with the blink of an eye if only given the chance.

Once the star was reported to King Uther the knights had banded together and, along with Sir Arthur and Merlin, set off to find the star and destroy it before any others could find it. “Arthur, are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean, Merlin?” The prince asked.

“We know fallen stars aren’t just stars, they’re people Arthur,” Merlin stressed, riding on his horse through the woods.

“Yes, Merlin, but they are dangerous. They are of magic, they must be put down.” Arthur said, grimly. “I don’t want to hear another word about the matter or you should be tried for treason.” Arthur tapped the rump of his horse and sped ahead of Merlin. “Alright boys, keep an eye out for a large crater or a glowing person!” Merlin stifled a laugh, snorting at the empty-mindedness that is Arthur.

The group wandered around until the sun nearly started to come up. They had but given up hope for finding the star until, in a clearing near a waterfall a crater, nearly the size of Camelot itself, was spotted by Gwaine. “There!” He yelled, pointing to the massive thing.

“Search the perimeter. I want no stone unturned!” Arthur announced, with that the knights got off of theirs horses and began searching every inch of the land. Merlin was quiet, stepping just outside of the opening into the woods.

He was slow with his movements, gentle and well calculated, and that’s exactly what drew you out from your hiding. You could feel his aura, powerful but somehow kind and welcoming. You stepped out from behind the boulder that was currently your safe haven. “You are of magic, yes?” You asked, quite afraid of either answer. “Yes, but you must be quiet. If they find you they will not be as nice as I am. Are you the star that fell?”

“I am.” You confirmed, taking a step closer to the man. “And you are?”

“Merlin, I’m a warlock and those men? They’re knights of Camelot; I’m sure you, being of magic, know about Camelot.” Merlin rushed, whispering with immense care. He stepped towards you with such care. “If you wish to live we must get out of here.”

“What do you mean? You quizzed, peering all around you.

“Merlin?!” A voice, from the clearing, called out. “Where are you? Have you found anything?” The voice became clearer and closer with every word.

“We have to go!” He said, grabbing your arm and pulling you deeper into the woods. “If you don’t do as I say they will harm you.” You nodded quickly. Merlin looked ahead of you, eyes suddenly glowing a deep amber. He whispered some words in another language, conjuring up a small wooden building. “If they ask, you’ve lived here your entire life, alright?” Again you nodded, silently as he pushed you inside, revealing a cozy home. “I’m Merlin, by the way.”

Being a man of magic you trusted he was being honest, so you laid on the bed and pretended to be asleep. You heard his footsteps retreating away and part of you were afraid that he wouldn’t come back but then you heard a full group approach. You pulled the blanket over your shoulders, covering part of your face and closing your eyes.

You heard the main door slowly open and murmured voices. “Excuse me, ma’am?” You heard a strong voice ask.

You fiend waking up, overtly yawning and stretching. “What are you doing in my house?”

A man with blonde hair, that stood in front of the group came towards you. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but did you not hear the explosion?” As he asked his question your eyes caught with Merlin, his eyes widened at you, begging you to say something.

“I did. I just assumed it was some thieves they have been making all sorts of ruckus lately. You and your big, strong knights should really do something about it. I would really love to see you guys around more often, perhaps while I’m wearing better clothing.” You stated in a girly, overly sexy tone.

Looking over you saw Merlin smiling and holding back a laugh. “We’re sorry to have bothered you, ma’am.” A man said, he had dark brown hair and slight facial hair. The rest of the boys nodded and slowly, clumsily walked out.

You waited a bit longer on the bed, for the men to leave, hoping Merlin would come back and he did. Swiftly he knocked on the door, opening it just a crack. “Are you still here?”

“Come in.” You replied, standing from the bed and wrapping your arms around your body.

“You did great!” The man praised. “I have to sneak you into Camelot, my Uncle will know how to help you.”

He began pulling you out of the small cabin, but the second your skin met you began to glow a beautiful muted pink color. Merlin eyed the brilliant light for a moment, briefly stunned before he remembered you were, in fact, a star. It’s what you do. “Come, we have to go before they circle around.”

“Hold on!” You whisper yelled. “Who’s your uncle?”

“His name is Guias. He is of the old religion, he’ll know how to help you.” Merlin rushed, obviously impatient with you.

“I’m sorry. Does it seem like I need help? I am perfectly capable surviving on my own.” You said, stalking away from him. You knew how the world craved power, stealing it from fallen stars.

He didn’t bother following you, to your knowledge. In reality, e stayed a few yards behind, masking his footsteps with his wizardry. He knew bandits and other kingdoms would be searching far and wide for you and your valuable heart and he knew they’d try anything to get the power.

Walking back to where you had fallen you eyed up the waterfall. You were stunned by the beauty, completely focused on the falling water you walked over the the pool below and, without thinking, jumped in.

You dove down, the water far deeper than expected, twirling around in the cool water with glee. Running out of breathe you emerged from the surface. Breathing in you looked around only to find scruff men surrounding you. “Hello, pretty lady.” The man in front said, drawing a sword out of its scabbard and pointing it at you. “I suggest you come with us. There are so many scary things out here in the dark.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” You informed, beginning to dive back into the water, just as a net was thrown at you, trapping you in its grasps. The men began pulling you out from the pond, the action pushing water into your throat and eyes. You screamed out, water rushing into your lungs. They pulled you onto dry land, though you were still soaking wet.

“Merlin!” You screamed. “Help!” You thrashed around in the net, kicking and screaming, trying to punch your captors. You managed to lay one good punch on the man pulling in the netting.

You fought your way out of the net, though your arm was stuck in one of the holes. Ripping it off of your arm you felt your skin tear, screaming out in pain as blood poured out of the wound. You took off running, seeing Merlin in the distance. “Merlin, I’m sorry, please help me.” You begged, crashing into him as he held you close.

Suddenly his eyes glowed a beautiful ember, once again, and boulders began falling from the top of the waterfall and crushing the men that threatened you. “Run!” He yelled, knowing not all of the men were trapped.

As you ran you held the gash in your arm as the blood seeped through the gaps in your fingers. After running for a few yards Merlin grabbed you by your forearm and pulled you into a small opening in a mound of dirt. “Mer-” You began just as the warlock thrusted his hand over your mouth, signalling to be quiet.

You heard three sets of feet running over you and into the night. When he believed them to be gone he removed his hand from your mouth and took a sigh of relief. “Are you alright?”

You stuttered, suddenly feeling weak from loss of blood and the vigorous fighting. Suddenly muted you stuck your hand out, showing him the wound as blood dripped onto the legs of his pants. His eyes widened as he started down at the gaping wound, removing his scarf from around his neck. He folded it up into a long rectangle and tied it tightly around your arm, hoping to slow the blood loss. “All better?” He asked, smoothing hair out of your face, smiling brightly at you.

You nodded slowly, looking into his eyes, instinctively glowing at the funny feeling in your stomach. “How did you fall?”

“My sister, Yvaine, spoke of this beautiful world filled with magic and love and amazing people. I had to see it for myself, but her husband and the king refused. He was a human once and knew of the pain this world could bring. I snuck out and fell. I do not know if I’m allowed back. Tristan is a good man, he just wants to protect us. He’s seen the worst this world has to offer and apparently so have I.”

“Just about.” Merlin confirmed. “Are you able to walk?” He helped lift you up, wrapping his arm around your waist, helping you walk. “Come, let’s get you to Guias.”

The walk to Camelot was excruciating, Merlin losing track of his horse and at one point he picked you up, carrying you the rest of the way into the city. Just as you entered the city walls your mind became fuzzy, and gave out, causing you to pass out.

#merlin x reader #merlin x you #merlin fanfic #bbc merlin