#still owe from the last time for uther | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitsandbobsofwriting · 2 years

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5 times Arthur sees Merlin doing more and more ridiculous shit for him,

and +1 time, said shit is so ridiculous that Arthur feels the need to make him promise to let Arthur come next time.

TW: uuuh blood and gore, Nobles (including Uther) being dicks?

Arthur is having a terrible day, and it’s only noon.

First, there was the early morning council meeting, in which some posh ponce—who was demeaning to Arthur and cruel to the servants—was allowed to run rampant with no consequences because of his supposed “friendship with Uther”, who was coincidentally not attending this specific meeting. Then training, which had been nothing short of disappointing; the new recruits barely knew which end of the sword was the sharp bit, never mind the basic skills that their rich, powerful parents had promised him they’d possessed. And now, Arthur can’t find his stupid manservant.

He’s due some lunch, having chosen to skip out on breakfast this morning; he’s starving, and Merlin is no where to be found. The Prince storms into his room, startling the guards in the corridor who’d tried to bow and wish him a good afternoon, with clenched fists and grinding teeth. Merlin isn’t here either, though to be fair to the servant, Arthur had only checked the armoury before he came here; he finds himself stopping in shock, anger draining from him slightly.

He had almost been hoping to find Merlin lazing about so he had an excuse to shout and yell and throw things, but... his room has been tidied and cleaned, his desk has been reorganised so he knows what work is a priority and what can wait, his bed has been made, dirty laundry is missing, and his favoured banquet outfit has been returned from the tailor and hung over his changing screen. Merlin had... apparently, been hard at work for he last few hours.

No lunch though.

He makes his way from the room, slightly calmer than he had been moments before, though still tetchy with hunger as he decides to just go straight to the kitchens himself. If he has to get his own food because Merlin had failed to, well, that’s definitely excuse enough to yell, and that will definitely make Arthur feel better.

The Prince makes quick work of his journey down to the kitchens, but stops just outside the door, a familiar voice catching his ear:

“Please? Come on, you must have heard how terrible the new recruits were, and he looked like he was going to punch someone when Lord Arsehole started yanking George around this morning. He’s going to be a in a foul mood, so will you just do this for me?? Your tarts always make him feel better, and he’s going to need a pick-me-up before this afternoon.”

Arthur’s face pulls down into a curious little frown; from the tone of Merlin’s voice, he wouldn’t be surprised if he walked in to see the servant on his knees begging. Before he can entertain that idea, Cook answers:

“Fine, just this once, Merlin. And what’s so horrible about this afternoon?”

Merlin sighs and lets out a quiet, grateful “Gods, thank you,-” before continuing, a little louder:

“-I sorted through his desk this morning, and he’s got a mountain of paperwork to do. He always runs himself ragged with all that shit, so I figured he could do with something nice for once.”

Arthur’s anger is long forgotten, and his curious frown morphs, out of his control, into a small smile as he slowly steps closer to the door, intent on listening for as long as he can:

“Hmm. No wonder the boy likes you so much, you’re the only servant he’s ever had who actually knows what he needs, I’m sure of it.-”

There’s a short pause, in which Merlin openly snorts at Cook’s assertion, and Arthur frowns and pouts. He is not a boy, and he does not like Merlin so much. He barely tolerates him. He’s an annoyance, that’s all.

“-Now here, off with you, or he’ll be grumpy that you’re late.”

“Yes, yes, I know, thank you. I owe you one.”

Arthur’s eyes go wide and he quickly speed walks back down the corridor, turning the corner and rushing off to take an alternative route back to his rooms so he doesn’t run into Merlin somewhere along the way. His thoughts run a mile a minute as he stalks through the castle, but he finds, when he eventually gets back to his rooms, that all he can think of is Merlin, and how Cook is right: he does always seem to know what Arthur needs, even if it’s not what he wants.

Merlin is already there when he finally goes in, laying the tray out on the table and humming something nonsensical under his breath:

“Sire! Just in time, I worried I was late.”

Arthur almost says something, but finds his anger sorely lacking as he glances around the room at the comforting neatness:

“...No, no you’re fine, Merlin. Thank you.”

Merlin frowns and pauses at Arthur’s thanks, only momentarily, but it’s said so casually, and Arthur doesn’t look at him again as he sits down to eat, that he decides to let the oddness of the Prince’s gratitude slide. He just begins humming again and steps away, towards Arthur’s desk, where he sifts through the various papers. His jaw twitches as he frowns and picks a quill up, quickly taking notes and signing and circling various things on Arthur’s behalf.

The Prince finds that he doesn’t mind that much, he finds that he trusts Merlin’s judgment, and he finds that Merlin was right, the tart really is making him feel better.

If Arthur had to listen to one more damn courtier yammer on about something or other entirely irrelevant, he’d combust.

He’s sick. He’s tired. He’s already had to listen to four entirely baseless complaints of supposed disrespect, three terrible, terrible tax reform ideas, and six (six) subtle-but-completely-unsubtle marriage proposals from various young Ladies and Lords. The Prince doesn’t understand how his father deals with this all day everyday, and with The King sick and bedridden with this year’s strain of flu, Arthur is going to have to deal with it all for at least another week yet.

Arthur knows he’s sick too, but he’s younger and fitter than his father, and if both of them get sick, then there’s no one bar Morgana to look after the Kingdom, and though Arthur trusts her implicitly, he knows that trying to rein in the council is not all Morgana thinks it’s cracked up to be.

He can feel his headache getting deeper and deeper, and full body aches had prompted him to skip out on training this morning, lest he make it worse. Leon had covered for him, thankfully, but at this point he’s fairly certain he’d preferred to have taken two hours of training over two hours of courtiers being... courtiers.

Merlin is acting like a cool balm through the process, not that Arthur would admit it, but he’s keeping the Prince topped up on medication from Gaius, and is filling his study with pleasant smells and low lighting to avoid making things worse. A knock at the door doesn’t catch Arthur’s attention, despite its insistence, but it does catch Merlin’s, and the servant removes himself from his armour polishing without the other man noticing. He opens the door only a crack, going out into the corridor and shutting the door behind him when he sees who it is; it’s the quiet click of the door latch that finally draws Arthur out of his head.

The Prince stands on stiff, sore legs, and walks towards the door so he can make out what Merlin's soft voice is saying:

“I apologise Lord Dagon, but the Prince is currently unavailable for any audiences.”

Arthur frowns at that, technically he is available, he’s supposed to be available, but he doesn’t want to give the Lord a reason to smack Merlin upside he head, so he stays quiet, and stays where he is:

“What do you mean he isn’t available? I know he’s in there, I demand to speak to-”

“Once again, My Lord,-”

Merlin’s voice is hard now, hard and cold and commanding, and Arthur wonders just why he never uses that voice on him when he’s being a prat:

“-the Prince is currently unavailable. If it is an absolute emergency, akin to an invasion or similar, then I can pass the message along to him whilst you wait out here, otherwise, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Arthur isn’t sure what Merlin does, if he gives a look, or waves hand, but the Prince hears the distinct sound of two pairs of armoured feet walking closer. He quirks an eyebrow; though he is surprised, he isn’t too worried about that fact that the castle’s guards apparently trust Merlin’s word and orders above that of a demanding Lord. He hears said Lord splutter and stutter for a moment or two, before huffing and stomping off again, down the corridor and out of earshot.

Arthur quickly sits down again, but can still hear Merlin’s sigh of relief, and soft “thanks guys, appreciate it” and one of the guards’ responding “no problem, Prince looks in a proper state, and we figured you was giving him some peace for a reason”.

Arthur is fast to look back down to his work, furrowing his brow as his eyes struggle to focus on the words in front of him, but he looks up again when, out the corner of his eye, he sees Merlin shut the door behind him:

“Who was that?”

Merlin smiles softly and shakes his head as he wanders over, looking over Arthur’s shoulder and raising his eyebrow at the single sentence that he’s managed to write in the last hour:

“No one important. Come on, I set the sofa up earlier so you can take a power nap. I’ll ward off any visitors and finish off some of this for you whilst you sleep.”

Arthur shakes his head and rubs his eyes, first at Merlin’s quick lie, and then at his offer for sleep:

“No, no, I have to get all of this done before tomorrow.”

Merlin tuts and rolls his eyes, snatching the quill from the Prince’s tired hand and pointing it at the sofa across the room:

“Sleep, you idiot. I’ll do the paperwork, I’ll even leave it for you to check over, if you really want me to, but we both know I can imitate your hand writing and signature perfectly.”

Arthur sighs but nods, standing and wandering over to the sofa, eyes closing before he’s even collapsed on the soft seating. Merlin chuckles to himself and tucks the quill away before following, kneeling down in front of the Prince to remove his boots, then his jacket; he pushes him back to lay down before covering him in the blanket and brushing his hair away from his face. Almost all of which Arthur is completely unaware of, already having succumbed to his previously unknown desperate need for sleep.

When the Prince wakes, what must be several hours later, his paperwork is finished, a note on his desk tells him dinner is waiting in his chambers, and the guards outside tell him that Merlin had scared off at least six more unwanted visitors.

He smiles to himself, shakes his head, doesn’t bother checking the paperwork, and heads to meet Merlin in his chambers.

He’s running late. He knows he’s running late.

Fuck, his father is going to kill him.

Arthur pulls his clothes around as he rushes down the hall, trying desperately to look as though he hadn’t just forgotten the meeting, and had in fact been up to something very important that couldn’t be avoided that he is still trying to come up with a name for. He’s failing miserably, on all levels, and he doesn’t even have enough energy to be annoyed at the sympathetic frowns the passing guards are giving him.

He finally pulls himself to a stop outside the council chamber, trying to catch his breath and fan away the redness of his cheeks, thankful beyond anything that there aren’t any guards stationed at the doors at the minute. The Prince takes a deep breath, hand hovering over the doorknob as he prepares to go in and receive a verbal lashing in front of a crowd when he hears a familiar voice pipe up:

“I apologise, Sire, I’m sure the Prince will be along shortly. There was... there were some oversights in the knights patrol rota that had to be seen to immediately. No one’s fault, of course, just unexpected illness that left some rather demanding gaps.”

He pauses, frowning slightly at the blatant lie that Merlin had just told The King, straight to his face. If there were any knights in there, like there should be, then.... well.

He hears the distinct sound of Leon, clearing his voice as though to say something, and Arthur presses his eyes shut, begging that now not be the time for Leon’s otherworldly loyalty to The King to shine through:

“He’s correct, My Lord, I’m sure Prince Arthur won’t be long.”

Arthur lets out a breath, a breath that he’s sure Merlin is letting out as well. Stupid man, where does he get off, lying to The King like that?? Arthur wonders briefly if Merlin has ever lied to him like that, and then he remembers that ninety percent of the stupid shit he’s caught Merlin doing has been either completely nonsensical and harmless, or harmful only to himself, and in defence of others; he decides very quickly, and rather horrifyingly, that he doesn’t think he minds if Merlin lies to him. He takes in one last deep breath as he hears his father grumble, straightening his hair before walking into the room briskly:

“I apologise father, I-”

Uther cuts him off, sitting down and speaking strongly:

“There’s no need. Sit, and we can finally begin.”

He’s annoyed still, but after spending so many years berating Arthur for not taking his duties seriously, for not working hard enough, he can hardly start yelling now, not over this. Arthur tries to subtly glance over his shoulder to nod at Merlin, but the servant is too busy doing the same to Sir Leon, stood on the opposite side of the room, and so Arthur leaves it, joining in on the meeting without another distracting thought.

It had been stupid really, for Arthur to wander off, but they’d needed more firewood, and Merlin had looked so miserable that The new King had been loathed to send him into the cold forest alone. The servant had been soaked to the bone in the day’s earlier downpour, whilst Arthur had been reasonably well protected by his many layers, so The King left Merlin to hopefully keep at least a little warmer by what’s left of the campfire whilst he ventures away from their dreary set up to look for more fuel.

He’d assumed he’d only be gone for ten minutes, at most, but half an hour soon passes and he barely has a handful of dry wood; it seems his servant is not the only thing the earlier flash flood had soaked through. He returns eventually with a few damp logs that he hopes will dry quickly, held tightly under his arms, and a large handful of dry kindling that he’s praying will keep the fire burning long enough for that to happen, but he finds himself dropping it all to the floor silently and lowering himself to a crouch just beyond the edge of the camp.

He hears multiple voices, and considering none of them sound friendly, and the only person who should be at the camp is Merlin, he thinks it’s reasonable for him to be cautious. The King draws his sword and creeps closer, peeking from behind a tree to see if he can figure out what’s going on. His blood runs cold and his hand tightens around the hilt of weapon when he sees a group of three bandits surrounding Merlin, dirty grins on their faces:

“This is quite the big camp for one person, hey? Two ponies, two bedrolls... tell me, where’s your friend?”

Arthur expects Merlin to point him out and braces himself, ready for a fight. What he doesn’t expect, is for Merlin to scoff derisively and lie as thoroughly as he’s able:

“I’m camping alone. There’s no one else, just me, so take my coin and fuck off.”

The servant slowly reaches a hand to his hip, but is stopped when a blade presses to his throat:

“Watch it, pretty boy, I’m feeling rather twitchy, and you don’t want me... twitching, do ya?-”

As he says it, he pulls the sword to one side slightly, making a small cut at the base of Merlin’s throat that the servant barely even flinches at. The other two men laugh, but don’t lower their weapons quite yet, still looking around as though they expect someone else to jump at them. Arthur’s blood boils, but he doesn’t reveal himself just yet:

“-And don’t lie, pretty, there’s two of everything.”

Merlin rolls his eyes so hard Arthur’s sure it must’ve hurt, and continues to reach for his hip, ignoring the bandit’s slight growl. Arthur gulps, hoping to God he wasn’t going for a weapon, but relaxes when he pulls out what appears to be a small pouch of cones:

“I’m on my way to pick someone up from a village, that way,-”

He nods his head to the opposite side of the circle to Arthur, but the bandits don’t look away long enough for the King to be able to do anything:

“-so like I said, take my coin and fuck off. I’m a physician, I don’t have the time or the energy for this.”

If Arthur hadn’t seen it a million times before, he’d be impressed with Merlin’s brazenness, as it is, he just rolls his eyes and prepares to lunge; Merlin doesn’t even glance in his direction, but Arthur knows, he knows, that the servant is aware of his presence. He trusts. Merlin throws the pouch of coins to the side, and when the bandits turn, when they stare, obviously thinking it over for some reason, Merlin shuffles back, just a few inches, and Arthur runs.

The largest of the bandits, the one that Merlin had been in the most danger from, is taken care of first. Merlin hurls himself at another, tackling him to the floor before kicking burning embers at his face; the bandit’s screams distract his friend, and Arthur quickly despatches him, before silencing the screaming one. The whole fight is over in a matter of seconds, and Merlin sighs, hands on his hips, before picking up his coin pouch and then staring despondently at the sad remains of the fire. His hand absent-mindedly reaches up to wipe away the blood from his neck; the cut has already stopped weeping though, so neither of them are overly worried by it.

Arthur rolls his eyes and before frowning at him:

“What the hell was that about?!”

Merlin shrugs and gets to work on dragging the bodies away from the camp, and Arthur casually wonders just when the servant had gotten so used to dealing with such morbid things:

“I couldn’t exactly tell them that I was travelling with the King, without any guards or knights, and that he was wandering the forest alone, could I?-”

He comes back for the second body:

“-And anyway, we managed, didn’t we?”

Arthur stares at him for a few more moments before hooking his hands under the arms of the last bandit, and dragging him over to where Merlin had been piling them. He doesn’t respond, just hums vaguely before joining his servant by the side of the dying fire:

“I did have wood.-”

Merlin just hums:

“-I could go get it again?”

Merlin hums again, but it’s shorter, lower, and Arthur nods, turning to gather their bedrolls from their packs and laying them together. He grabs his spare cloak from his bag, as well as both blankets and their spare tunics. They layer up before getting into the bed rolls and shuffling to be pressed together; it happens more often than they’d care to admit to anyone, but they don’t really care anymore. Body warmth is best way to stave off hypothermia, after all, and Arthur is glad Merlin doesn’t want him to go hunting for the wood. He can’t quite remember where he’d dropped it, and he’d be loathed to leave Merlin at the camp alone whilst he wandered off.

When he’d first heard them, Arthur had had absolute faith that the rumours were false.

After all, how many other times had someone whispered something about an assassination attempt to him, for the whole castle to go into lockdown, for nothing to then happen?

Merlin had rolled his eyes and Lancelot had coughed in a manner that sounded suspiciously like a snigger when he’d expression that particular sentiment to the council earlier in the day, but he hadn’t had the time, or the patience, honestly, to question it. Now though, he’s starting to think that perhaps he should have.

He had just about managed to lose his guard dog (he hadn’t asked for it, but Leon had taken to unsubtly following him around, hand on the hilt of his sword at all times), and had opened a door into a dark corner of the library only to spy something rather odd through the dusty shelves. He shuts the door softly behind him, sending thanks to whoever had recently oiled the hinges, and sneaks closer, keeping his knees bent and his hands held out for balance.

The sound of rather furious whispering comes into focus, and if he squints through the dust, he can see... Merlin... holding a grubby looking man against the wall... with a dagger to his throat. He blinks rapidly, certain at first the the dust was distorting the image, but when he opens his eyes once more, the sight before him is the same. He blinks again, forcing himself to take deep, slow breaths through his open mouth, and listen:

“...Now. I’m going to ask one more time, or things are going to get a hell of a lot worse for you. Who sent you, and how many partners do you have?”

The man growls, the vitriol dripping from his words as he harshly responds:

“Fuck you, I ain’t saying nothing, you’re just a fucking servant.”

From his angle, Arthur can see the bone chilling smile on Merlin’s face, and he gulps:

“Let’s see how long you stick to that, sunshine.”

In any other circumstances, The King might think that Merlin calling someone sunshine would be incredibly endearing and morale boosting and all sorts of lovely, but in that cold tone of voice, with that creepy smile, he knows it means no good. What comes next is a squelching sound, then a surprised squeal that is quickly cut off by Merlin’s hand pressing harshly over the man’s mouth, then a snapping, then more suppressed screeching, then more squelching.

Arthur allows his gaze to slip lower, and he suddenly understands, with a growing nausea deep in his stomach, why the man had tried to scream and wriggle away; there on the wall is his hand with another dagger cutting straight through it, pinning it palm first to the brickwork. Merlin’s other hand is still pressed to the man’s mouth, the sharp point of the dagger held in those fingers barely an inch from the other’s eye. He speaks again, his voice low, and slow, and commanding in a way that Arthur has never heard before, not with annoying courtiers, not with twitchy bandits:

“When I take my hand away, you’re not going to scream, you’re not even going to squeal. When I take my hand away, you’re going to speak very calmly, and clearly, and quietly. When I take my hand away, you’re going to tell me exactly what I want to know, or instead of putting a few extra holes in you, I’ll start cutting things off, starting with your fingers, moving on to your dick, and ending with your eyelids. Do you understand? Nod.”

The man is shaking by the time Merlin has finished, but he nods nonetheless, and Arthur gulps as Merlin smiles again:

“Good. Now, who sent you?”

He slowly moves the hand away from the man’s mouth, and though he whimpers quietly, he is evidently trying very hard not to make too much noise. He pants, but at Merlin’s raised eyebrow, he begins to slowly speak, as calmly as he’s able and with only a slight stutter:

“Ki- King Lot. He p-p-paid me half before, said there was-was more after Pen-Pendragon was dead.”

Merlin nods, as though the information is unsurprising to him, but Arthur scowls. He’d known that tensions with Lot were bad, but bad enough to start sending assassins? That, he was unaware of. Before he can think on it further, Merlin speaks again:

“And how may people are working with you?”

The man doesn’t even hesitate this time, obviously somewhat used to the pain, though he’s still shaking and stuttering like his life depends on it. Arthur wonders if it does, he wonders if Merlin plans on... on killing this man:

“None at-at the moment. There were f-five to start, but Lot only sent-only sent one at a time. I’m the-the first, if I fail-”

Merlin interrupts him, so quietly Arthur has to strain to hear it, as if he’s just talking to himself:

“Then more will follow...-”

The man nods, but doesn’t say anything, not until Merlin looks back to him again:

“-How long until someone else comes?”

“Two-two weeks.”

Merlin nods this time, considering the information carefully as he looks around, like he’s chasing all his thoughts into one corner of his mind. He nods once more, more decisively this time, and steps away from the man, leaving the dagger imbedded in the stone so he can’t move lest he cause himself quite a lot of pain:

“Thanks for that, and sorry for this. Well... not really, you’re a danger to Arthur and I really can’t be having that, but you know, my mam raised me with manners.”

With that, Merlin steps forward once again, whipping his other hand up and pushing his second dagger up through the man’s chin, into his brain. He flails for barely a moment before sagging down, the weight of his body finally pulling the hand from the wall. He’s dead, Arthur is certain of it, and The King struggles to keep his breathing even, more so when he sees the steely look of determination on his friend’s face and the slow trickle of blood from the assassin’s wound and mouth and nose.

It’s late at night, so it’s a complete coincidence that Arthur had stumbled upon the scene (yes, Leon had even stationed himself outside of Arthur’s chambers, and had followed him on his midnight stroll. Yes, the knight is probably besides himself with worry, but that is a problem for another time. He wonders if the knight would even believe him, if he told him where he’d been, what he’d seen), but Merlin still glances around the library, just to make sure no one else was there. He bends over to pull the two blades from the body and tucks them into a pocket, before hoisting the corpse up to flop over his shoulder.

The servant circles around the shelves Arthur is hiding behind, and Arthur follows him quietly, so he isn’t spotted, and watches as Merlin leaves through the same door The King had entered through, silently pushing it closed behind him.

Arthur allows himself a moment to breathe, not quite sure what to think, other than the fact that Merlin is a lot scarier than he lets on, and actually has the skills to back up what Arthur had previously thought was a funky, but ultimately useless protective streak. He glances to the blood staining the wall and floor for a few seconds, and then follows Merlin out the door as quietly as he can; it takes a few minutes of silently jogging the castle halls, occasionally following trails of blood and occasionally listening out for soft footsteps or the swish of fabric, before he finally spies Merlin entering one of the lesser used back doors to the dungeons.

The door doesn’t shut properly, and Arthur sneaks up to the wall so he can listening in (sending thanks to whoever hadn’t fixed the latch on this door). He hears the voice of a guard that he vaguely recognises; he's confident that he could point him out in a crowd, as one of Merlin’s friends, and one of the captains of the guard, but he couldn’t recite his name:

“Merlin? What are you doing up so- bloody hell! Is that another one??”

A thump echoes from the room, a rather harsh one, and Arthur guesses that Merlin must’ve dropped the body:

“Yeah, the first of five from King Lot, apparently. The King isn’t going to sort out his own security, not until he has proof, and I don’t plan on letting them get that close, not yet, anyway, so can you up the guard rotations and keep an eye on Essetirian nationals? Nothing too overt, but I can’t have eyes on Arthur every hour of the day, so I could use some help.”

Arthur hears the jangle of armour, and what sounds like a ring of keys:

“Yeah, yeah sure, I’ll have a chat with the boys. Want me to let them in on it, or just tell them it’s because of the rumours?”

There’s a pause, and Arthur finds himself a little surprised at how he can picture the exact thinking face Merlin is pulling right now; the one where his mouth thins because he’s biting the inside of his lips, and there’s a slight crease in his brow as he looks down and to the right:

“Hmm. No, just blame the rumours. I’ll tell Lance, George, and maybe Cook what’s going on, but I don’t want anything to get too far out of my hands. Keep an eye out for me whilst I’m in there?”

“Sure, I’ll sort it in the morning. And yeah, I know the drill. Do you need a hand, or can you manage?”

There’s a slight groan, a flapping of fabric, the sound of a door being unlocked and opened, and then a wave of heated air that can only be from the incinerator, almost permanently lit in winter to keep the lower levels from freezing. Arthur feels the nausea increase:

“Nah, I’m fine.”

The door shuts, and Arthur waits. Maybe ten minutes pass before the door opens and closes again and the sound of a lock being turned reaches The King’s ears:

“Anything interesting?”

“Meh, an unsigned letter with instructions, from Lot, no doubt, and a few coins, nothing concrete. Everything’s in there, bar any metal he had on him. I’ll keep a hold of it for a while then send it out of the Kingdom to be sold on. Nothing to connect anyone, unless Lot fancies stepping forward to say that the assassin he sent to kill Arthur never returned, and he’d like to accuse us of something.”

The guard chuckles, but doesn’t say anything, and Merlin just mutters a quiet “goodnight, see you in the morning” before making his way to the unclosed door that Arthur is hiding behind. The King quickly presses himself into the shadows, knowing that unless Merlin decided to stick his hand in the corner of the hallway, he’d remain unseen. He waits for the servant to pass him, then waits for five more minutes, and only then does he make his way back into the main part of the castle.

He wanders aimlessly for a little while, feeling somewhat relaxed considering everything. He supposes that Merlin being cold-hearted and vicious when it comes to protecting the people he cares about... shouldn’t surprise him, and it doesn’t, for the most part. But the daggers and the threats and the secrecy and the incinerator sure as hell had.

He eventually finds Leon, pacing up and down the corridor outside The King’s chambers, and though the First Knight sends him a despairing look, Arthur just smiles, rolls his eyes, and quietly dismisses him for the second time that night, rather more forcefully this time. He seems reluctant, but goes eventually, and Arthur waits until he’s out of sight before he turns back around, and heads to the library again. He’s not even sure what he wants to accomplish, what he wants to find, but he sees it when he gets there: a far too clean, far too dust free patch on the wall and floor right at the back of Geoffrey’s domain. There’s not a speck of blood to be seen, and as far as Arthur’s memory can recall, he hadn’t seen any in the hallways either.

He takes a deep breath, blinks away his quiet surprise, gulps, and goes back to his rooms.

He doesn’t sleep much that night, as he thinks on all the things Merlin had done for him over the years. The paperwork and pick-me-ups can be counted in his duties. But the lying, the excuses, the aggressive, apparently extremely aggressive, protectiveness... Arthur isn’t quite sure what to make of it all. He finds himself unworried about Merlin’s loyalty, after all, if it was one big trick to gain Arthur’s trust, then Merlin would make a show of it. As it is, as far as the servant is concerned, Arthur is entirely unaware just how far Merlin will go to protect his King.

Arthur wonders if he is aware, or if there’s more. There always seems to be more, with Merlin.

+1)

After the first assassin incident, Arthur had taken to keeping a closer eye on Merlin. He’d watched the servant secretly despatch of two more of the assassins, and then tactically lead a group of knights and guards to one, and Gwaine and Percival to the other. Arthur had marvelled at that, but hadn’t said anything. It’s obvious now he knows what to look for, the pointers in the way Merlin moves and speaks, the way he controls every situation he finds himself in, and eight out of ten times, gets exactly what he wants out of them. Arthur would normally be very wary of that, but considering it’s his own safety and happiness that Merlin wants, he can’t exactly be mad about it. And besides, it’s Merlin. Arthur thinks he might be physically incapable of losing trust in the man.

He’s also learned that Merlin is not quite as alone as he’d feared. Sir Lancelot is definitely in on it, this whole... “making Arthur’s life easier” scheme, most of the time, and the guard, whose name Arthur now knows is Gavin, is in on the majority of it as well. The servant, George, seems to be in on at least half of it, though Arthur gets the impression that, like Merlin, he’s smarter than he looks; he always happens to walk past, always happens to make himself suspiciously available, whenever Merlin and Lance need an extra pair of hands. The Cook too, is made aware of the validity of the assassination rumours, and Arthur correctly figures that’s mostly down to the possibility of poison.

All of this just means that Arthur is suddenly very aware of the shadows that Merlin moves in, and that when he turns around to find the servant not in his, he knows exactly where to look.

So far, Arthur has only had to follow Merlin out of the city once, and when he does, it turns out that the servant really was just picking herbs for Gaius. The King had gotten fairly bored of that fairly quickly, and went home after barely twenty minutes, which is lucky really, because about ten minutes later the Druids that Merlin had been waiting for finally showed up to tell their Lord all about the horrific beast that had been destroying their camps and hunting in local villages.

The next time The King follows Merlin beyond the city walls, Gaius had said the servant was spending his afternoon off in the tavern, so Arthur knows that he’s on track to see Merlin doing something wacky. He’s a few minutes behind the servant, following his tracks through the underbrush as opposed to Merlin himself, to stop himself being spotted; when he finally catches up, spurred on by the sounds of an entirely unnatural fight, what he sees takes his breath away.

He seems to have stumbled upon the scene during a lull in the battle, and he gapes from behind a tree at a giant, grotesque... monster. It looks sort of like the troll that his father had once married—Arthur momentarily shudders at the reminder—but much larger, and wearing significantly fewer clothes. His mind supplies the word “ogre” with an image of a picture book he’d had as a child; he’d honestly never believed in such things before, but then again, if Griffins and Lamiae and Unicorns and trolls exist, then why can’t ogres?

The lull doesn’t last long, and with a mighty roar that shakes the ground, the beast charges at Merlin. He stands in the centre of the clearing with no armour or weapon to speak of, but his wide-legged stance doesn’t falter, and Arthur watches in frozen horror as the servant flexes his hands and clicks his neck from side to side. Arthur can’t move, no matter how much he wants to draw his sword and rush to Merlin’s defence, and he can’t even whisper, no matter how much he wants to scream at Merlin to run. But then the unthinkable happens, the unexpected. Though at this point, Arthur thinks his surprise is his own fault, and he really should’ve seen this coming.

Merlin stretches his arms out in front of him, roars something that sounds unintelligible to Arthur, but clearly has a purpose, and pushes a writhing, storming stream of fire out from his hands. Arthur lets out a breath and sags against the tree as Merlin controls it with ease, dancing around the clearing to stay out of the ogre’s reach as the beast screeches. Arthur figures he must have arrived near the beginning of the fight, because with the way it’s going... Merlin really has got it down pat.

A few more streams of fire, a few thrown boulders (both by the ogre and by Merlin’s waving, powerful hands), and a strike of lightening that Arthur feels in his bones, the ogre lies dead, off to the side, and Merlin pants, his hands on his knees as he catches his breath. His eyes still glow golden, and Arthur finds himself staring at them, not quite certain whether he is awed or a little afraid. Perhaps a mix of the two.

Before he even makes the conscious decision, Arthur’s legs are moving him out from behind the tree and walking him towards his servant. It takes a moment or two for Merlin to notice him, but when he does, the gold zaps from his wide, suddenly frightened eyes quicker than The King can blink, and he stumbles back, his hands held out defensively in front of him as if Arthur hadn’t just seen him massacre a giant magical beast:

“Arthur? What are you... I can explain just... just give me... just let me explain!”

Arthur stops and frowns at Merlin’s fear, and then suddenly remembers that yes, the purge had been a thing that had happened, and yes, Arthur had been spouting his father’s beliefs since before he could walk, and yes, he himself had been enforcing the illegality of magic. He blinks and opens and closes his mouth a few times, trying to find the words, but before he can, Merlin’s fear drains a little, to be replaced with concern. The servant still doesn’t step any closer, but he frowns and lowers his hands slightly:

“Arthur... are you alright?”

The King blinks and shakes his head, though not in disagreement, more to just try and rid his mind of the guilty fog that had stopped him from speaking:

“Uh... yes, yeah, I’m fine. Just... processing. Give me a moment.”

He doesn’t sound all that angry, but to be fair, he doesn’t sound all that anything. Merlin jumps to his own defence, desperately trying to explain everything at once before Arthur has a chance to realise how furious he is:

“I’m not evil! I use my magic to protect you, and Camelot, and I swear on my life I have never acted against you! Please, Arthur you have to believe me, I’m still the same man you know, and I’m not-”

Arthur waves away his words and untenses his shoulders with rolled eyes:

“Calm down Merlin, you dolt, I’m not angry. Well, I am, but not about the magic. I’m very much aware of how much you do for me: all the lying and the excuses and the... assassination of assassins. Which honestly somehow caught me more off guard than this did.”

He gestures vaguely to the smouldering corpse of the ogre, and Merlin glances at it before whipping his head back to Arthur, eyes wide:

“You knew about that?!”

Arthur raises an eyebrow:

“Yes, Merlin, I knew about that. I saw you... deal, with the first of Lot’s five, and as disturbing as it was, began following you around to see what else you get up to when you think no one is watching. Which brings me back to my anger, actually.-”

Merlin gulps, but seems to understand that he isn’t in any actual danger from The King. Arthur puts his hands on his hips and narrows his eyes at the servant:

“-You’re never doing this alone again. First of all, it’s dangerous, and I don’t want you wandering off to deal with Camelot’s latest disaster and then not coming back because you’ve been skewered or... or squished and eaten-”

He nods at the dead ogre again:

“-without anyone knowing what’s happened to you. And second off,-”

At this he gets visibly more annoyed, and Merlin cringes slightly as Arthur gestures wildly with his hands:

“-how dare you leave me out of this! That fight looked incredible, and you left me at home! You’ve deprived me of one hell of a tavern story, and I fully expect you make up for that by not leaving me behind next time. Dick.”

Merlin freezes and narrows his eyes in confusion, before all the tension drains from his body and he stares at Arthur incredulously:

“That’s what you’re mad about?! I almost died, and you’re mad that you didn’t get to join in on the fun??”

Arthur blinks and purses his lips, allowing his gaze to wander the clearing as he momentarily thinks, before looking back to the servant and nodding decisively:

“Yes.-”

He abruptly turns as Merlin sputters and waves his arm for the servant to follow him:

“-Now come on,-”

He turns, frowning in confusion as he looks between Merlin and the ogre’s corpse:

“-or do we have to... do something, about that?”

Merlin just wordlessly shakes his head, and Arthur smiles and turns away again, walking in the direction of the castle. The Warlock stays where he is for a few moments, confusion freezing his legs and muddling his mind, but Arthur calls out from ahead of him:

“Come on then, slow poke. It’s late, I’m tired, we can work on the repeal tomorrow.”

The King’s words nudge Merlin into a jog so he can catch up, but he doesn’t respond, just blinks, shrugs his shoulders, and decides that, in the grand scheme of things, it could have been a hell of a lot worse.

The End!!!

That was fun to write! Definitely not my favourite, but I hope y’all enjoy it!!

Head over to This List and let me know which you’d like me to prioritise! :D

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queerofthedagger · 3 years

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I would love to hear your essay on why Merlin didnt own telling Morgana about his magic, because it honestly makes me mad when people say he should have since he too had magic

Ooh hey, thanks so much for the ask! And about one of my favourite pet peeves too 😂❤️ I have a lot to say on that because yeah, it makes me mad too. This got really long, so I apologize for that in advance... (I tried to put some of it under a readmore but tumblr is being a pain again.)

Obligatory disclaimer that obviously, everyone’s entitled to their opinion and I’m not aiming to change anyone’s mind.

First of all, I think it gets ignored sometimes that Merlin didn’t actually leaver her alone or didn’t try to help. He very much did so in “The Nightmare Begins,” by finding out how to get her to the Druids. This is directly after she tells him about her belief that she has magic and that she’s scared, and he does so against the explicit orders/advice from both Gaius and Kilgharrah.

When he goes to find her because Uther is executing people and she refuses to go back, he doesn’t pressure her. People are getting killed about it, and yet when she says, “I'm sorry. I'm never going back. These are my people. They're like me. I don't feel so alone here. Do you understand?” his only answer is “Better than anyone.”

But yeah, it does tell him that when it comes down to a choice between self-preservation and saving others, Morgana will choose the former. And that’s fine, to some degree! People are allowed self-preservation and putting themselves first, and Merlin and Arthur often are self-sacrificing to a truly unhealthy degree. That being said, I personally find it questionable if accepting the death of innocent, also at least under-privileged if not oppressed people for your own sake is the morally “right” choice but as I don’t want to start a philosophical rant here, let’s leave it at that.

There’s—imo—more than one reason why Merlin didn’t owe her anything; first of all, I personally don’t think you ever owe anything of this kind to anyone, ever. Just because someone tells me a huge secret, doesn’t mean I have to do the same, especially if it’s a life-threatening one; all you “owe” is kindness, understanding, and keeping the secret that was entrusted to you. All of which Merlin did.

Then there’s the whole axis of power to their relationship; Morgana might be nice and treat Gwen and Merlin with respect, but that doesn’t erase the huge difference of station between them. Since the first week Merlin arrived in Camelot, he saw that the word of a servant, his word, meant absolutely nothing against a knight, noble, or actual royal.

Morgana didn’t hand him any power over herself when she revealed her secret. Merlin, on the other hand, would’ve handed her complete power over his life or death. I’m not saying Merlin would’ve ever revealed her secret under any circumstances—I actually think if he had told Arthur in season 3, Arthur would’ve believed him; he’s proven he would, more than once. But it wasn’t only about being believed, it was also, still, about not giving her away. (Though to be fair here—what it was also about was that she threatened to reveal that he poisoned her. Which, obviously, fair to some degree but if she did that, I doubt she would’ve revealed why he did, which ultimately only plays back into my point that Morgana’s loyalty is conditional. Which, again, is a valid stance to have, but not that of a person I’d trust with such a secret.)

Anyway. Just because Merlin never would’ve revealed her secret, doesn’t mean that the difference in their potential power over each other wasn’t there, and it’s important. Especially if you look back to the start of season 2 where—even before she turned her back on Camelot—Morgana made it clear that for her, self-preservation prevails when it comes right down to it.

Well, and thirdly, there’s also the matter of destiny and responsibility if Merlin’s own safety and well-being isn’t already enough (which it is, just in case there was any doubt about my opinion on that matter.) Of course, in season 2, Merlin’s not yet as fixated on Arthur as he is later, not even on destiny, as his intention to leave Camelot shows (if he had stayed away is another question altogether but I digress.) Still, Kilgharrah made it pretty clear that this was about more than Merlin, and while Merlin definitely didn’t always listen to him, the threat was immense.

And it wasn’t only about Arthur either, I’d even say that in the great scheme of things, Arthur played relatively little into this decision; it was about his people as a whole, and it was about Gaius because if Merlin had been revealed, Gaius had already proven that he’d try taking the fall if not get accused of harbouring a sorcerer. I don’t think this alone would’ve been enough, but taken together with the other points, I think it did have some weight in Merlin’s decision and I also think that it was a valid choice to make even beyond the “you don’t have to reveal anything to anyone even if it’s only because you don’t want to.”

Last but not least, I also think it’s important to keep in mind how long they’ve known each other which, at that point, were maybe two years. Merlin’s been most likely told from the day he could understand it to never reveal himself to anyone. Until Freya, Merlin never tells anyone on his own volition (except maybe Will, we don’t know, but they’ve known each other their whole lives), and it’s impossible to compare the circumstances. Just because Morgana told him in what she herself calls a moment of weakness does not mean Merlin has any obligation to do the same.

I want to reiterate that he did try to help her, actively with the Druids, and also passively by reassuring her that there’s nothing wrong with her and that he will keep her secret. This is already more than he would have to do—the whole thing with the Druids put Merlin at risk too, arguably much more than her. Of course, that has never stopped him which is what we love about him, but I think that it’s more than enough. Merlin is not responsible for fixing every little thing in Camelot, he’s not responsible for other people’s actions and decisions, and he did more than could be expected of him.

Which is also why I think that if he had told her about his magic, it wouldn’t have changed anything in the long run, but as this is already way too long, let’s leave that can of worms for another time...

#merlin emrys #morgana pendragon #merlin meta #mona's rambling #this is more an out-of-canon point but I also just prefer Morgana having the agency to owning her actions tbh #answered asks #aeonthedimensionalgirl

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theonceandfutureking6481 · 3 years

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BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 5: Lancelot Analysis

It's Lancelot's first episode which is tremendously exciting. I remember the first time I watched this show (last year- I really make it sound like it was much longer than it is), I wasn't particularly attached to him but on my second rewatch I loved him, I loved his and Merlin's friendship and I loved his sheer nobility and decency. Lancelot is of course typically one of the most central characters in telling's of the Arthurian legend, so of course his appearance is exciting. Also excitingly an episode where I talk about someone other than Arthur! Yeah, if you can't tell Arthur's my favourite character. I'm not sure how clear my point is throughout all of this, its hard to articulate but I hope I've done it justice.

"Sir Lancelot, the bravest and the most noble of them all"

This is a quote from much later in the show but it explains something very fundamental about Lancelot's character. Lancelot is supposed to be the chivalric ideal, in most versions of the story he is portrayed as such, as the only knight who really comes close to fulfilling it. Lancelot's fault that puts the dent in him being the true epitome of the noble chivalric knight is his love for Guinevere, and its actually his son Galahad (who doesn't exist in Merlin) who achieves this ideal. However, the point remains that Lancelot is almost there, his character is typically about a person who almost achieves this ideal of chivalry, and they run with this in Merlin, out of all the knights he is the most knightly, the most committed, the one most devoted to its ideals.

Lancelot talks like our idea of a knight, its kind of hard to explain but the way he talks is straight out of chivalric romances, out of films about knights. You notice it because everyone in this show talks in quite a contemporary way, its an Arthurian legend for people of today and the characters talk like it, but Lancelot just doesn't, he talks like a knight from a fairytale. It's just a small detail, but it really plays into the perception of Lancelot as the epitome of chivalric honour.

I'd argue that he represents a knighthood Arthur believes in, before he even realises it himself, a kind of honour that's about devotion to one another and helping others and fighting injustice. Arthur and Lancelot do get on extremely well, despite the fact that Lancelot, in Arthur's own words, doesn't sound or look like a knight. His passionate defense of him to his father, as well as the fact that Arthur releases him from prison without his father's approval is because Arthur respects him and admires him and probably because he sees him as a friend. King Arthur's court is often the ideal representation of chivalry, stories like these about chivalrous knights were very important to aristocratic culture in medieval times, and Arthur's court was at the center of it. The thing is that there is a code of honour and chivalry before Arthur in Merlin, the knights of Camelot already exist, and they are often honourable. But Arthur's task will be to reset the idea of chivalry and honour on new grounds, in new ways and Lancelot in many ways exemplifies this ideal

There is a huge emphasis in Lancelot's character in serving with honour:

"It's not my freedom I seek. I only wish to serve with honour."-Lancelot

"He laid down his life for me. He served with honour."- Arthur

"He meant no harm I am sure of it... he only wished to serve."- Arthur

I'm not exactly sure how to define honour, its kind of an abstract concept but I do know what it means, its acting with integrity and respect and honesty. It's a concept central to the Chivalric code, that knights should behave with honour, so its inclusion here further cements the idea of Lancelot's character as representing the ideal of chivalric knighthood. Also the concept of servanthood comes up again, Merlin emphasises (through Merlin most of all) the honour in being a servant, you don't need to be great or noble or a great leader, the world needs people who are willing to serve and that is just as noble as leading.

Chivalry as a concept is inherently bound up in the concept of nobility. The etymology itself is from the French word for knight/horseman, of which only nobles could be. However, one of the points of Merlin through many of its characters is upsetting this class divide so prevalent in Arthurian stories, not just in also including the stories of those who aren't noble but in setting up a code of honour that applies to everybody. Lancelot epitomises this, he is the knight who most represents the ideal of chivalry to Arthur, he's also not a nobleman. Just like making Gwen and Merlin servants, making the most noble knight not a noble sets up this shift, highlighting the capability of everyone to the kind of goodness and nobility that Camelot's ideal will represent. Because fundamentally what's the point of an ideal if it only applies to some people, ideals should inspire everyone to be better, they should make everyone's lives better not just a small subset of people.

As Gwen says that in Arthur's knights "we need ordinary people like you and me."

Arthur and Uther

Importantly Arthur realises the injustice of laws in his father's kingdom and you see the contrast between him and Uther.

"The code bends for no man."

"Then the code is wrong."

Uther is stubborn, we know that, he's unwilling to admit the fault in his rules, in his ideas even when the evidence is right in front of him and that is a fundamental fault, you can see it in his treatment of those who use magic. Arthur by contrast is someone whose views haven't been set, partly because he is still young, but also because he is a better person than Uther in the ways that matter. He's not going to purposefully blind himself to the truth. For Uther he is also one with a worldview of absolutes, all magic users are bad, laws are laws there is no room for argument or nuance, and I'm sure Uther would see accepting argument or nuance as a weakness.

It is also important that in recognising that the code should bend, Arthur recognises the essential flaw in Uther's construction of society and chivalry. The idea that knights should all be noble, Uther literally says that it is the fact that all knights are noble that binds them together, and this is emphasised by the fact that Uther created the first code of Camelot (also the fact that its the first code- makes this seemingly small law much more important). This is a premise Arthur does not agree with it, this episode proves what it really means to be a knight in Lancelot, its a willingness to do your duty and act with honour and self-sacrifice. It is not confined to class, and thus plays into merlin's wider subversion of chivalry as only being for knights, its a code of honour and behaviour that all people can aspire to, and the ability to live and die for noble causes should not be the sole preserve of knights. The Arthurian ideal is so premised on nobility, for the rest of the kingdom, yes they have a just king and presumably they are protected and safe but they are kept from the dignity of being allowed to be noble, being allowed to be considered a part of the nobility and goodness of the Arthurian ideal. It's significant that the first figure to represent this isn't noble.

Other Stuff

"I owe Lancelot my life and I am paying for that in the only way I can."- Merlin--> This is the worldview of knights and debts of honour in its own way as well

Gwen and Lancelot are just awww, like so sweet

"Merlin would do anything for anyone."- Gwen--> True and I love that about Merlin, even as he becomes more jaded as the seasons go on this doesn't change that much—>he's wonderfully decent

"You're the only thing I care about in this world."- Gaius to Merlin--> That was just sweet and kind of sad He's encouraging Merlin to put himself in danger and Merlin reacts with anger because its like does anyone care what happens to him—> but the point is Merlin can help Arthur and no one else can so he has to do it because its his job and its his job because he's the only one who can do it--> Duty is doing what you have to do, doing the right thing even when you don't want to

"It's my duty knight or not."---> Similar to Merlin—> Lancelot believes in being a knight so whether or not he actually is one he has a duty to act like one—> he is a swordsman he is skilled and (theoretically- if they weren't creatures of magic) could defeat a Griffin so he has to do it—> because he can and its his duty to his worldview And Gwen's response- "You really believe that don't you. I don't think I've ever met anyone like you."

"You've already proven that to us"- Arthur "But I must prove it to myself."- Lancelot--> Isn't there just something very noble in that- In the desire to prove your ability to yourself above all others- to hold yourself to a high standard not just to expect things to come Will parallel Arthur in later seasons as he tries to prove his right to be king to himself--> It's funny the scene when Arthur pulls the sword in the stone (much later) is the moment when he proves his right to be king in every version of the story- but usually its proof to others- In Merlin it was trying to prove to himself

"Till next time then, Sir Lancelot."- Merlin- wonderful way to end the episode on an acknowledgement of Lancelot's role in the wider story- he is a legendary figure

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honestlyandrogynousnightmare · 3 years

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magic reveal

So ive been thinking about the magic reveal we did get and also the different magic reveals we COULD have gotten so i thought id project all my thoughts into another massive tumblr rant:

personally, i dont think the magic reveal was bad at all. yes, i wouldve done it slightly differently, i think it was done way too late in the show and left little time to explore how that reveal affected merlin and arthurs relationship, and obviously we never actually ended up seeing if magic was legalised and all. but i dont hate the magic reveal we got. the key part i really love is that it was done on Merlins own terms, he could have just lied, but instead he finally told Arthur the truth and i think that there were many reasons for that decision being made.

firstly, Merlin definitely felt guilty and blamed himself for Arthur being stabbed, he must have at least partly blamed himself because everything he did directly led to Mordred turning into a little shit. Part of him might have just felt as if he owes Arthur that explanation yknow. secondly, i feel like by that point he was tired of lying in general, he needed to get that secret off his chest. those two things combined with the fact that Arthur was dying may have pushed him to telling the truth, because deep down he did know that it was probably the last chance to tell Arthur the truth.

i liked how they presented Arthurs reaction too, the clear message there was that Athur was angry at the lying, thats the part he saw as betrayal, not the magic itself. he didnt want to believe that Merlin was a liar, when he always saw him as the one person that was entirely honest with him. hell, he still trusted him enough to send him back to Camelot and Gwen so he knew Merlin wasnt evil. If the writers actually did a good job at developing Arthurs character, i feel like itd be more obvious that Arthurs stance on magic was different from his fathers, but yknow bbc and their shoddy writing. I love that moment of acceptance as well, when he tells Merlin that he doesnt want him to change. He doesnt even now about all the things Merlin sacrificed and lost in order to protect Arthur and Camelot but he still accepts him. I think that when he first fund out it was all like “holy crap i dont even know him” but after spending a few hours with Merlin he realises that its still the exact same person he knew the week before.

anddddd as much as i like the way they did that magic reveal, the ending of the show left me with no closure and a lot of tears. my ideal magic reveal wouldve happened earlier, either at the start of season 5 or near the end of season 4. It would give us a chance to see them talk it out, and god we know that there would be arguing, and if arthur wasnt dying he would probbaly be shouting but the key part here is that arthur wouldnt hurt merlin. i think he culd consider sending him away if his father was still king just to protect him but we all know merlin would reply with “no <3″. but since i cant see the reveal happening when uther is king, i will be ignoring that scenario. and again, theres many ways this could play out.

the one way that ive always found interesting was arthur figuring it out on his own, because he may be an idiot, but hes not stupid. *if you like this sort of thing read “so close and im halfway to it on ao3, its a merthur fic and the magic reveal in that one makes me cry so much and the fic is so well written* I feel like at one point, he would just put the pieces together, and it would all make so much sense to him? Merlins random disappearances and scars would make sense, the luck he had when it came to fights, Merlins weird reactions when someone mentioned magic, how on earth merlin of all people managed to survive every battle and fight arthur was in when some of his best knights didnt.

then theres the very cliche “merlin using magic mid battle to save everyone” reveal. because its mid battle, i really cant picture them talking it out there lol, i picture a lot of ignoring but also if other people saw him using magic, we all know the first thing arthur would do is give the knights a good old “if you kill him i will kill you and then myself”, it wouldnt be until later that they would actually talk.

and then like the canon magic reveal, theres Merlin doing it on his own terms. i personally really like thhis one because it gives him so much more control over the situation and over his words. *another fic rec here if you like this sorta thing, its called “to the world that let you by” and its really beautiful and made me cry at 1am so there you go, and as you guessed it, its another merthur*. i love this reveal because it gives merlin a chance to explain, and arthur a chance to listen and try to understand.

now there are loads of different sub categories that could go into those, like Arthur finding merlin creating butterflies out of thin air lol, but i wont go into those. whatever reveal would happen, i feel like “the talk” after would usually end up in a similar way. Arthurs reaction would be similar to what we got in the canon reveal, because the actual magic isnt what would hurt most. it would be the lies. Arthur has been lied to and betrayed by so many people you cant really expect him not to react badly to being lied to. the magic sure would confuse him and put him in a difficult position, because you have to keep in mind that his entire life he has been told that magic is pure evil, and to him, merlin is the polar opposite of that. i think it would just make him question everything, like does he even know this man? has he won any of his battles or has it always been merlin? why is he in camelot? why would a sorcerer be serving him? but he wouldnt hurt him. he wouldnt even consider that imo, sure, he will demand an explanation, but he wouldnt actually thin about hurting him.

and merlin would understand why hes angry about the lying, that much is obvious. and he would be reluctant to tell arthur about the things that were happening behind his back all those years, but he would be honest. and go that conversation would be hard for both of them, i cant really imagine them having it without a lot of crying, shouting and even more wine tbh. arthur isnt good at listening which is why this would be so hard for him too, but merlin has to be honest, completely honest with arthur for the first time in his life and thatd be difficult.

and i think merlin would handle arthurs reactions well, even if arthur decided to lose his temper lol. but i can still imagine him being a bit bitter if arthur judged his choices and stuff when it came to poisoning morgana and freeing the dragon, asking what on earth HE would do in that situation. where the only choices he sees are bad ones, and he has to pick the one thats least evil.

arthur would probably be most pissed off at the thing about his mother tbh, because merlin outright lied there, usually its just deflecting but he made that deliberate choice to lie. but i really do think he would understand all of this, while not every choice merlin did was good, he did it with good intention.

and then arthur would remove the ban on magic and they would kiss and get married amd live happily ever aft-

thanks bbc.

anyway if you want any more magic reveal fics (or links to the ones i mentioned, ao3 can be bloody annoying sometimes) feel free to comment or message me or anything, i have a couple more in my bookmarks.

thanks for reading this rant, scuse the bad grammar, id love to hear your thoughts and opinions on this and magic reveals in general so feel free to comment! have a great day<3

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emmcarstairs · 3 years

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The Search for the Lost Husband: Blackdale as the Ballad of Tam Lin

(Art by Wylie Beckert)

“They were falling together. If she held on tight enough, she could bring him back, she thought, like Janet had done for Tam Lin in the old story.” (Chain of Iron)

Fairy tales have been with us since the dawn of time. They have provided foundation for some of the greatest stories we have come to know and love. The key to the success of fairy tale motifs is their resonance with our collective unconscious. All around the world, although sometimes with different symbols, fairy tales explore similar concepts.

Thanks to the Aarne-Thompson-Uther Index, we have a comprehensible catalogue of folk tales from every corner of the globe. The folk tales are divided into several classifications based on their motifs. One of these classifications is known as “The Search for the Lost Husband” or ATU 425, and “Beauty and the Beast” is one of its best known examples. In this analysis, we will take a look at the Scottish ballad of Tam Lin, which falls into this type of folk tales.

There are many versions of the tale since it’s centuries old but the basic outline is thus: A fair young maiden named Janet is the daughter of an earl and lives in a castle next to the forest of Carterhaugh. All the maidens have been warned against entering the enchanted woods for there dwells the faerie prince Tam Lin, waiting to take possession of their chastity. One day, Janet grows bored and being the headstrong woman she is, sets off to explore the forest on her own. In the magical woods, she attempts to pluck some flowers but then all of a sudden Tam Lin appears, demanding to know the reason behind her trespassing on his land. Unfazed, Janet claims that she is the rightful heir to Carterhaugh and she can do as she pleases. After this, Tam Lin takes Janet by the hand or her waist, and when she gets home, she discovers that she is pregnant.

Once her family realises her situation, they try to pressure her into a marriage of convenience but Janet refuses them. She returns back to the forest to question Tam Lin. He shares his tragic story: once he was a mortal man, but while travelling through the woods, he fell off his horse and was abducted by the Faerie Queen who forced him to serve her as one of her knights. He has been her captive for seven years and is concerned that on Halloween he will be offered as a sacrifice. Tam Lin reveals that Janet might be able to free him if she follows his set of instructions.

On Halloween, Janet is determined to rescue her beloved and goes back to the forest. There she sees several knights passing by but patiently waits until she recognizes Tam Lin by his white horse and him missing one of his gloves (his signal). She pulls him to the ground and holds him firmly, as instructed, while the Faerie Queen puts several spells on him, transforming him into various beasts which scratch and bite at Janet but she doesn’t let him go. Finally, the Queen turns him into a burning coal, which Janet plunges into a well. Tam Lin emerges as a naked mortal man and Janet, still following their plan, covers him with her cloak. The Faerie Queen admits defeat, crying how she should have given him a heart made of stone and eyes made of wood.

I believe it is already obvious how much inspiration CC must have drawn from this folk tale. The prologue of ChoG is essentially a re-imagining of its beginning.

Lucie Herondale is the daughter of Will Herondale, “a very important person”, in Lucie’s own words. The Herondales live in their Manor next to Brocelind Forest. One night, just as the woods seem to glow, Lucie ventures to go on a walk. Like Janet, she plucks some flowers, only she arranges them into crowns. In fact, the text stresses that this is the first activity she undertakes in the forest. Eventually, she gets lost and falls into a pit which is coded as a grave with its gleaming white bone. Lucie is caught in a place between life and death, and naturally, enter Jesse Blackthorn who is himself on the threshold.

Jesse introduces the faerie motif from the get-go, which prompts Lucie to assume that he is indeed a faerie himself. (In ChoI, she refers to him as “a beautiful faerie prince”.) He even tells her that if the faerie gentry caught her, she might have to be their servant forever, which is an allusion to Tam Lin’s tragic fate and his own if we consider the Fairy Queen to be Tatiana/Belial. Lucie then brings up her lineage, her “royal blood” as hinted at even in her monologue, demanding that she be rescued, not unlike Janet who used her birthright as a leverage against Tam Lin. Which leads us to Jesse taking her by the hand, as also found in some versions of the ballad. This contact is important because it symbolizes union. From this point onward, the ballad treats Tam Lin and Janet as lovers. Of course, this is not the literal case in ChoG. But figuratively, Lucie’s encounter with Jesse will stay with her until she meets him again on equal footing.

Interestingly enough, when Lucie and Jesse meet again in 1903, exactly seven years have passed since he has been dead / a captive of the Fairy Queen. Jesse’s death is a metaphorical slumber in which he has fallen owing to Tatiana/Belial’s doings. According to Tam Lin, every seven years the faerie folk offers a tither to Hell and because he is a mortal by nature, he fears that he will be the one sacrificed. Therefore, the time has come for a major turning point (which we witnessed in ChoI).

In “The Search for the Lost Husband”, the motif of recognizing one’s beloved is quite common. The ballad of Tam Lin is no exception. We also find it in ChoI, even though it’s more toned down! Lucie has to piece together the facts about Jesse’s backstory as well as the identity of the killer. She is the first one who realizes that Jesse’s body has been used for ill intentions by seeing the runes on his body. Funny how in the ballad the absence of an object is the telltale signal, while in The Last Hours - it’s the presence of runes and blood. While Lucie is preparing herself to dive the sword into Jesse’s body, she acknowledges that the remnants before her are not her Jesse. Her Jesse is the ghost who visits her at night. In ATU 425, the groom is usually human only at night. Thus, she has successfully recognized her lover, which later allows her to face Belial, the Fairy Queen in our story (although I believe both Tatiana and Belial play this role).

In order to bring Jesse back to the mortal realm, she exorcises Jesse’s body from Belial’s anchor. In fairy tales, there is the motif of burning the beast’s skin as a means of breaking the enchantment upon the beast man (e.g. Luke burning Darth Vader’s armor so that Anakin Skywalker may live on). Jesse’s body is virtually his beast’s skin for it was used by a demon and made a murderer in ChoI. In the ballad of Tam Lin, a similar concept is observed - Tam Lin’s body is transformed into a fiery coal. The theme of fire as a cleansing force is observed across mythologies. Water has healing properties as well - Janet is instructed to hurl the coal into a body of water. By using fire and water, Janet baptizes the fallen prince, severing his connection with the faerie realm. Lucie relies on her own powers to purge Jesse of Belial’s dark energy, effectively removing his anchor which has been preventing her from truly accessing Jesse’s soul.

At the end of the ballad, the Fairy Queen is upset about her defeat and laments the loss of Tam Lin. In ChoI, we have glimpses of Tatiana and Belial’s sour mood after Jesse is no longer in their clutches. However, while the ballad ends here, ChoI is only the second book in a trilogy. Where do we go from here? We shall see.

Thank you for reading! I’d be glad to hear your thoughts!

P.S. Now that you’re familiar with Janet’s last instruction - wrapping Tam Lin’s body with her mantle - the fact that Jesse was wrapped in Matthew’s medium-ridiculous overcoat is even funnier. Fingers crossed that this doesn’t jinx it all!

#lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #blackdale #luciejesse #chain of iron #chain of gold #the last hours #tlh #chog #coi #coi spoilers #tlh analyses

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bruh--wtf · 3 years

Text

A Lovely Secret

Masterlist

Part 1

Merlin x reader

Warning: Parental Abuse.

Summary: Reader is respected in the palace as the daughter of a nobleman, and Merlin is the prince's new servant. Are the two doomed to forever hide their feelings? Or will their friends, and her father accept it?

Reader is female and has magic. This is set before Morgana is evil(sorry if you haven't seen the show) so, she's nice and acts the way she did when everyone liked her.

Your father is on Uther's court. A very trusted advisor. And, you have lived in the palace your whole life. Arthur is like your brother, even though he can be the arrogant prat that he is. And Morgana is like a sister. Your best friend, along with Gwen of course.

Your handmaiden, Lila, is also a dear friend. However, she is shy and much younger and you aren't very close with her.

A few months ago, Arthur got a new man servant. It was a fluke, as Arthur put it. He was furious that Uther would put the boy with him, but there was something about him that intrigued you.

Your mother was a sorceress, and your father told Uther once he discovered the truth. Knowing your father would tell Uther about his wife, you knew he would have no problem telling him about you.

Though, you were never taught. You simply... had it. It terrified your mother how things would happen without her doing. And once she discovered, she trained you to control it. To hide it.

"Y/N?" Gwen says, coming up behind you. You turned to see the beautiful girl and smiled at her.

"Hello, Gwen."

She glanced out the window that you were looking out of and sighed. "You must stop this. You'll be caught."

"It isn't fair, Gwen! I've been training since I was born, and now I'm suddenly meant to be a 'lady'? It's boring. I want to be sparring," you rant to your friend, who laughs at you.

"Perhaps Arthur will spar with you later," she suggests. You roll your eyes.

"He would never defy his father. Or spar me, he'd be to scared of losing again," you tell her and the two of you share a laugh. You look down at the training feild again and see a few of the knights looking up at you, including a glaring Arthur.

You blow him a mocking kiss and you can tell he rolls his eyes as he shakes his head and looks down. The knight he was sparring was busy looking at you and Gwen when Arthur knocks him down. You roll your eyes at your friends move. If the knight had been looking, he could have easily stopped him.

"I'm going," you say. You start down the stairs, walking up to the feild, Gwen tailing behind you trying to convince you otherwise. Arthur looks annoyed and walks up to you.

"What are you doing, Y/N?" He asks.

"Watching your knights take it easy on you," you state. His agitation turns to confusion.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"You lot are going easy, yes?" You ask the knights. They all shift uncomfortably, avoiding Arthur's gaze. He quickly becomes angry. "Maybe try with someone who won't."

You were wearing riding pants, and a white blouse that was probably looser than it needed to be.

Arthur turns his glare to you. "You know what your father said. And mine, for that matter." You roll my eyes and follow him further onto the feild.

"And? That never stopped me before!" He stops and spreads his arms wide.

"Alright. Then, try me." You raise an eyebrow.

"Really?" You ask. He nods.

"Unless you changed your mind." I smirk and shake my head. You take a sword from Leon, who knew what was coming. Arthur adjusts his stance and you start a circle for a moment before he initiates the battle. The sound of metal against metal was music to your ears.

You turn his sword and you could almost see his arm tense as his wrist cramps up. You raise an eyebrow.

"Nervous, Arthur?" You ask.

"You wish, Y/N."

After he attempts a few more blows, and manage to dodge them. Your smirk grows as he becomes frustrated. The knights needed to move as you and Arthur made a dance around the field.

"I think you're scared of losing to a girl." You state. He angrily swings at you again, and you bend backwards to avoid the swinging sword that still barely misses your face. You gulp, and take Arthur's slight shock to your advantage. He hadn't meant to get that close to harming you and you knew it.

You swing your sword out and stop it just before it connects with his neck. You were both out of breath and you heard Gwen cheering for you not far away.

"See? They were taking it easy on you." You hand the sword back to Leon, who was smiling at you. He patted your shoulder.

"Weston owes me a few silvers, thanks." He says, making you laugh. He smiles at you and walks up to a fellow knight who reluctantly hands Leon a few silver pieces.

You walk over to Gwen who was still bouncing on her toes in excitement. She was standing next to Arthur's servant, Merlin. He had blue eyes when you looked closer, and he was much taller than you. He was lean, yet you could tell he had a bit of a muscular build. He wore a red scarf around his neck. He was smiling with Gwen.

You extend your hand to him. "I don't believe we've properly met. I'm Y/N." He seems a little surprised that you acknowledged his existence, for a moment and fumbles to shake your hand, nodding his head.

"Uh, Merlin. I'm Merlin." You offer the handsome man a smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, Merlin." You glance behind you to see Arthur lecturing the knights. You roll your eyes.

"That was brilliant!" Gwen says. You smile at her.

"Thank you. He'll probably be an ass to you today though." You say the last part to Merlin. He rolls his eyes.

"He always is." Then his eyes widen slightly, while you chuckle. "Sorry, I mean-"

"Don't worry Merlin. I was raised with him, I know what he can be like." He looks relieved.

"Y/N!" You hear your father call. You look over and hold your breath for a moment.

"I better go." Gwen seemed a little nervous for you and it didn't go unnoticed by Merlin. He gives both of you a questioning look, and you had a feeling Gwen would explain things.

You offer a small smile to your friend and Merlin. Then, you walk over to your father. "What the hell were you doing?"

"Harmless sparring," you say. He grips your upper arm a bit to roughly and pulls you away from the open archways, which allowed the people on the field to watch your interaction with your father.

He shoves you onto the stairs and you scrape your hand as you catch yourself. He glares at you as you try to steady yourself.

"Harmless? He cut your arm." You look down at your arm, and notice a bit of blood seeping through your shirt.

"It's nothing. Gaius can fix it up in no time!" You say. He continues to pull you up to your chambers.

"You have him do that. We're having dinner with the king tonight." He tells you and pushes you against the wall and walks away. Watching him walk down the corridor your anger boils against your skin.

You have to restrain yourself from using magic against your father. Then you walk into your chambers and have Lila help you get dressed into something more proper.

#merlin #merlinbbc #merlin x reader #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana #gwen pendragon #leon #knights #swordfight #merlin imagine

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Feathers for the Pillows

Prompt: Hey there, I have a prompt for you if you'll take it! I absolutely loved your wingfics with Virgil, and was wondering if we could have something similar with Merlin? Maybe with his magic slowly turning him into a more ethereal magical being and giving him wings that he has to figure out how to deal with and hide? Possibly Arthur finding out? Thank you!

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3776

A bird falls out of the sky when Merlin is little.

Merlin didn’t realize it was happening at first.

He was young, still learning how his human body worked, how his magic worked, how to play and run and jump and laugh. His mother looked on fondly and shook her head, wondering how the gods could’ve created such a boisterous little boy and then had the idea to give him magic on top. Perhaps in some way, it was a way to keep himself safe, when he toppled off of shelves he’d managed to float himself up into, or when he fell from trees that he was too young to climb. Or perhaps it was another of their tricks, something to keep the mortals busy and entertained while they plotted. Either way, Merlin has magic and he runs about the woods, leaves dancing along in his wake, the forest itself opening up and welcoming him into its shadows. Patches of golden light draw forth the gold from Merlin’s eyes. The forest breathes.

A bird falls out of the sky.

It lands in front of Merlin, strangely still. It looks at him with dull, cloudy eyes. The light glints off of its feathers. There are three bent out of place. It lies on a bed of leaves and looks at Merlin.

Merlin stops, tilting his head as he looks back. The bird’s eyes are unfocused, staring not at Merlin’s face but through it. The beak is open partway, the head cocked to the side. The wind ruffles its wings. The feathers twitch. It won’t look away from Merlin.

Merlin gulps, reaching out his chubby little hands and taking a step closer. Does the bird want his clothes?

“Merlin?” His mother’s voice comes from far away. “Merlin, it’s time to eat!”

Merlin stops, looking once more at the bird before turning around and running back home. The bird’s eyes watch him go.

Merlin dreams of flying.

When he’s just turning into a young man, his back starts to hurt all the time. His mother frets that he’s working too hard, but he mumbles that he’s been using magic, he’s not putting any strain on his back. She cuffs him lightly across the shoulder, but the furrow between her brows doesn’t disappear. It only deepens as Merlin’s back worsens, when little lips begin to appear beneath his shoulder blades.

She sends him to Camelot.

Gaius looks him over and raises an eyebrow—the first time Merlin sees the eyebrow of magical disbelief, but certainly not the last—and points Merlin to a drawing of a man with wings.

“They will grow,” Gaius explains solemnly, “but they will not hurt you.”

“They’re hurting me now,” Merlin grumbles, reaching around to scratch at his back. Gaius stops him.

“Growing pains are to be expected,” he says, “but they will get worse if you do not let them grow in properly.”

“How’m I supposed to do that?”

Neither of them knows. Neither of them knows because Merlin is magic, under Uther Pendragon’s nose, as the servant of the Crown Prince Arthur.

They can’t bind the wings as they grow. They can’t excuse Merlin’s back pain as anything other than back pain. They can only pad Merlin up with ill-fitting tunics so much.

Arthur doesn’t notice.

After a year, they’re fully grown. The feathers are…unruly, but small enough and white enough that they can be passed off as ornamentation, discarded from some elaborate headdress. The wings can fold up under his tunic and stay hidden, so long as no one touches him.

Well, that won’t be a problem.

He moves through the castle too fast for people to get a good look at him. The knights don’t want to look at him. Arthur only cuffs him upside the head.

His secret is safe.

Then he undergoes his first molt and he lies in agony for a day, as Gaius tries his best to care for the wings. The feathers overflow, crowding the room, until Merlin can figure out that they can make pillows out of them. It takes a moment for them to appear in the rest of the castle, but Morgana comes by to ask whether she can have an extra one. Apparently, they help with her nightmares.

Merlin is more than happy to oblige, at least until Morgana asks him where he gets the feathers from.

“Um…”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she winks, giving his arm a gentle pat, “I won’t tell. Just make sure you bring plenty, hmm?”

Morgana touches him. It’s always sweet, just a quick pat on his arm or his shoulder, but she touches him. She notices. Gwen notices too. And Gwen sticks by his side, is allowed to stick by his side, when the feasts and the council meetings happen and they work.

“Merlin,” she admonishes one hot night, “you must take off at least one of those shirts, you’re going to boil to death.”

“I’m fine, Gwen,” Merlin says, wiping sweat off his brow, “I’ll only be cold in a few minutes.”

His hands are always cold.

The wings don’t like always being cooped up under his tunic, so he stretches them every once in a while. He goes out of Camelot, far away from the prying lights of the high walls, and sits in the forest, stretching his wings. They are a little stiff sometimes, but he works patiently until he can unfurl them painlessly, letting the extra feathers slide off to be collected.

“You really must tell me where you’re getting all these feathers, Merlin,” Morgana remarks one day, “maybe I’ll have to place an order large enough for a shawl.”

Merlin gulps. “I can—I can see?”

“Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says, taking him gently by the arm, “I know you’ve got more important things to do.”

“Merlin!”

“Like tending to Arthur,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as Arthur storms around the corner.

“There you are, come on. Job for you.”

“Coming.”

No, Arthur doesn’t notice.

The knights…the knights.

Leon notices, Leon notices everything. Although he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s noticing, Merlin watches him approach after a training session and carefully pull him to his feet.

“Can it be healed,” the knight asks softly, far too quiet for the others to hear, “what ails you?”

“What?”

Leon gestures to Merlin’s back. “I have known men that…cannot be healed as easily.”

Merlin’s shoulders slump. “No, it’s not…it’s the way I am.”

“I understand. Please,” Leon says, resting a kind hand on his shoulder, “do not hesitate to tell me if there are things that I can do to make this easier.”

Leon notices everything, Lancelot notices Merlin.

Merlin doesn’t bother to hide his magic from Lancelot. The man met him and knew, and he takes very great pains to make sure that Merlin knows his secret is safe with Lancelot. Merlin finds himself leaning on Lancelot more than he would care to admit, even going so far as to physically lean on the man. Lancelot never minds, always reaching to stealthily make it a little easier for Merlin to stand. But Lancelot doesn’t put together that Merlin has wings.

“I’ll help you,” Lancelot promises when merlin says he doesn’t want to tell him, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

Merlin lets himself slump forward into Lancelot gratefully.

Lancelot helps quietly, Gwaine helps loudly.

Whenever Merlin beings to slump, needing a break, Gwaine makes the loudest, most obnoxious distraction he can, be that some loud bawdy joke, some great exclamation, or knocking over a massive shelf of newly polished pie tins. He plays up his clumsiness, his ‘common’ nature, all to make everyone else more focused on him than on Merlin.

“Let them think what they will,” he says to Merlin by the fire one night as they keep watch, “I don’t care. As long as you’re okay.”

“Even if you don’t…know why?”

Gwaine shrugs. “I trust you.”

Merlin smiles.

Gwaine distracts, Elyan suggests.

The first time Elyan notices Merlin wincing every time something comes near his back, he brings Merlin to the armory and suggests a leather tunic.

“It might help with support,” he says, pointing out the different points on the back, “and give your spine a little less to deal with.”

“…could it be made to fit under clothing?”

“Of course. I’ve got a friend that works down in the blacksmith’s district that makes ones to go under ladies’ clothes.”

Merlin looks at it and promises to think about it. In truth, if it’s going to be fitted properly, they’re going to have to see his wings.

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

But he does promise that Elyan can make him something to make things a little easier.

“I won’t pry,” Elyan promises, “but you’ll let us help, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Elyan puts things together, Percival pulls things apart.

“Easy,” the knight mutters as Merlin winces, “almost there.”

Merlin grits his teeth and pulls, straining away from the metal digging into his back. Percival grunts, holding it apart.

“On three, ready?”

“Ready.”

“One…two…three.”

Merlin yanks. The metal comes apart in Percival’s hand and the force sends the two staggering apart, panting. Percival tosses the remains over his shoulder.

“That’s the last time I put one of those on,” Merlin grumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

Arthur had the great idea to do full melee drills today. Problem is, with Arthur standing back to watch, the knights are an odd number. Which means that Merlin was placed in a suit and made to hold a lance. The metal pressed his wings flat to his back and squeezed, making it hard for Merlin to stand, much less fight.

Percival had taken one look at him and ushered him away, using his strength to pry apart the pieces to get Merlin free.

“Are you alright,” he asks, using a voice that Merlin has never heard before, “are you very badly hurt?”

“No, I’ll be fine.”

“Good.” Percival lays a large hand on Merlin’s back, only for Merlin to flinch away. “Sorry.”

“Just…” Merlin shakes his head. “Go tell Arthur I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”

Percival leaves with a nod.

The knights notice, even if it’s not everything.

Then Morgana walks in without knocking while Merlin’s wings are out and he freezes.

“Oh,” she breathes, dropping the pieces of fabric she holds, looking at Merlin’s wings spread wide, “Merlin, they’re beautiful.”

Merlin is too shocked to make a sound.

Morgana closes the door softly, walking forward with her hands outstretched. “I won’t hurt you, Merlin, I promise, I just…wow.”

Merlin swallows. “Are you…you’re not afraid?”

“You’re Merlin,” Morgana smiles gently, “how could I be afraid?”

“They’re magic.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re still not afraid?”

“No.” She reaches out tentatively. “May I?”

Merlin shudders as her hands lightly brush one of his feathers. She makes a soft noise.

“These are where those feathers come from,” she murmurs, “aren’t they?”

“…they’re mine.”

“They’re lovely,” she promises, her smile so wide, “and so are you.”

She giggles as Merlin flushes red.

Morgana vows to keep it a secret, and in turn, Merlin teaches her about magic. Her nightmares fade away as she sleeps on pillows they make together, as Merlin carefully grooms his wings and Morgana teaches him how to embroider. They keep it a secret, under the watchful eye of Gaius, sewing, and plucking and talking in the night. Gwen comes to join them, smiling wide and bringing Merlin into a gentle hug as he shows her for the first time. Her hands at the base of his spine feel warm.

“Do they hurt much?”

“Not anymore,” Merlin says, giving them an experimental shake, “I’ve…gotten used to it.”

“Well, you must let us help you when they hurt,” Morgana says, rethreading her needle, “if only as an act of repayment.”

“Repay—Morgana…”

“You’ve given us the gift of your feathers,” Morgana interrupts, “not to mention all that you’ve done for Camelot. For me.”

“And for me.”

“But I—“

“You’re lovely, Merlin,” Morgana promises, smiling when Merlin flushes red again, “let us help you?”

And what can Merlin do but say yes?

They do help, but there’s not a whole lot they can do. It just…it hurts sometimes.

The feathers will itch. The wing joints will grow still and stiff. And when the wings grow still and stiff they’re just pounds of dead weight, almost impossible to hide. Merlin grows slow on these days, unable to bound up the steps after Arthur or dart about the castle. Instead, he sits and does small chores, like polishing armor or writing speeches. Morgana will sit with him if she can, sewing. Gwen will fetch her own chores and they’ll do them together. The knights will sit with him and keep the other eyes of the castle away.

Arthur…Arthur doesn’t do much.

And really, really well…isn’t that why it might hurt so badly?

Merlin spends nearly all of his time with Arthur. He knows more about Arthur than he does about nearly everyone, maybe even more than he knows about himself, and Arthur just…doesn’t care?

That makes the wings grow a little heavier.

One day, it’s very bad. Merlin can’t roll over, can’t dislodge the weight on his back. It makes it hard to breathe with his chest smashed as it is against the mattress. He stares at the wall, blinking, unfocused, not seeing anything but the vague light and dark spots against the solid gray of the stone. It hurts. He feels dull, lifeless, unable to summon any energy to move.

His eyes begin to cloud over as he lies still.

Soft footsteps outside his door. The door opening slowly and closing just as slowly. The creak of the floorboards as someone walks to sit next to his head. Red jerkin. Brown trousers. Golden hair.

…Arthur?

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “hard day?”

Merlin nods, confused as to why Arthur’s here and why he’s not shouting at Merlin to get his lazy arse out of bed.

“Are you feeling alright?”

The answer that Arthur probably wants is ‘yes.’ The honest answer is ‘no.’ The very honest answer is ‘why do you care?’

Merlin settles for shaking his head.

Arthur makes a noise of sympathy, reaching forward to card his fingers lightly through Merlin’s greasy hair. His fingers reach through to Merlin’s scalp, scratching gently.

“Arthur?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says immediately, “it’s only me. Does it hurt very much today?”

Merlin frowns. How…what…what is Arthur doing?

“Did Gaius…Gaius tell you?”

“No, Merlin. I figured that when you didn’t show up today that something might be wrong, so I…came to check.” Arthur smiles and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Good thing I did.”

“Not—I meant about my—my—“

Merlin runs of out air, twisting his head as he is to look up at Arthur from his position on his stomach.

“Easy,” Arthur says, gentling Merlin’s head back to the pillow, “rest your neck. I’ll talk, yeah?”

Merlin’s too exhausted to do anything but obey.

“No, Gaius didn’t tell me about your back, Merlin.”

“…Morgana?”

“No, not Morgana.”

“Gwen?”

“Not Gwen.”

“…knights?”

“Not the knights either.” Arthur’s hand reaches down to scratch at the base of Merlin’s head. “No one had to tell me, Merlin.”

But Arthur…but he…

“You never noticed,” Merlin mumbles, half into the pillow, “not…ever. Not before.”

“About your back?” When Merlin nods, Arthur huffs gently. “Merlin, I noticed the first day you arrived in Camelot.”

What?

“I just…well, I figured you were…that you may be ashamed of it,” Arthur continues, a little sheepish, “or maybe I assumed you’d prefer if I never brought it up.”

“S-so…so you…”

“I always knew, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “but I…no, I’m—I’m sorry I never said anything.”

“…oh.”

Arthur shifts, getting off the stool to kneel on the floor, his face next to Merlin’s, his hand still rubbing the base of Merlin’s skull. “Can I make up for that a little by helping now?”

Merlin nods.

“Right,” Arthur murmurs, “now…thank you, firstly. Second, have you tried getting out of bed today?”

Merlin shakes his head, growing more and more miserable.

“Alright…would you like to?”

“…’ve got work.”

“That wasn’t what I asked,” Arthur chides gently, “I asked if you’d like to get out of bed.”

He smiles kindly when Merlin seems to flounder for an answer.

“I can help you get out of bed if you like,” he says, “but…you are also allowed to lie here for today. Especially if it hurts. I’ll stay with you.”

“You…you will?”

Arthur smiles, petting Merlin’s hair again. “Of course.”

Merlin closes his eyes, losing himself in the gentle pats. It…it might be nice to try and sleep again, but…but his wings might just hurt more when he wakes up.

“No?” Arthur nods when Merlin shakes his head. “Alright. Let’s…let’s see if we can at least sit you up.”

He tucks a palm under Merlin’s head and holds it steady, reaching low and wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist.

“Hang on.”

Merlin’s back strains with the wings as Arthur begins to sit him up, only for Arthur to grunt and pull harder.

“You’re much heavier than you look, Merlin,” he says worriedly, “are you—are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I—I’m—“

“Are they broken?”

Merlin freezes.

He looks slowly at Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

“Come on. My Merlin doesn’t get to grow wings and not have me notice.”

“I—I—“

“Shh,” Arthur soothes, his arms still tightly around Merlin, “it’s alright. Do I look angry?”

“N-no, but—“

“I’m not. I’m worried.” Arthur nods at Merlin’s wings. “Are they broken?”

“N-no, just…just stiff.”

“Alright. Can I…can I help?”

Merlin swallows. Arthur…Arthur knows. Arthur’s not angry. Arthur’s not…angry?

“My Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, gently bumping his head against Merlin’s, “of course I’m not angry, you’re lovely.”

He chuckles when Merlin flushes red again, adjusting his grip to help the blanket stay on Merlin’s shoulders.

“Will you let me help?”

Merlin’s fingers tighten in the front of Arthur’s jerkin and he nods.

“I’m going to take the blanket off now, okay?”

The blanket falls to the bed and Merlin’s wings unfurl, spreading as wide as they can, trying to stretch. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he holds onto Merlin.

“Oh, Merlin…”

“They hurt,” he mumbles, “they hurt.”

“Alright,” Arthur mutters to himself, “alright. Let’s do this.”

The bed sinks behind him as Arthur carefully positions himself between the wings. He reaches out to gently card his fingers through the wings, going right to the glands.

“Ah!”

“Sorry,” Arthur mumbles, “I’ll be more gentle.”

“How—“ Merlin shudders and gasps as Arthur’s warm, warm hands move easily through his wings— “how do you know how to do this?”

“The stable has hawks,” Arthur murmurs, gently sorting out the stiff joints, “and I learned how to tend to them when the stable master taught me to hunt.”

“So—so you—ah!”

Merlin can hear the smile in Arthur’s voice as he rubs his thumb around the base of the joint connecting Merlin’s wing to his back. “Yes, Merlin, I know what I’m doing.”

Merlin has never been touched like this.

Arthur knows just how to stroke the muscles to get them to relax, to pull out the broken and crumpled feathers and work the oil throughout. He knows just how gentle to be when he swipes his thumb across the gland, knows just how firm to be when he runs his fingers through the base of the wings. He knows Merlin, knows how to pause when Merlin shudders too much, how to reassure him that he’s almost there, just a moment, please.

“H-how—“ Merlin bits back another gasp as Arthur straightens a particularly stubborn feather— “how did you n-not tell me?”

“I thought you were ashamed of them,” Arthur says softly, resting his hands at the base of Merlin’s sides, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

“I…”

Was he?

“…I was ashamed of my—of the magic,” he stumbles, “and I…”

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist, “you should never be ashamed of your magic.”

He chuckles when he feels Merlin gasp under his hands.

“That one you can blame on everyone else not doing a good job of hiding it.”

“Don’t be mad at them,” Merlin blurts, “please, it’s not their fault—“

“Shh,” Arthur rumbles, reaching up to scratch at the soft part of Merlin’s wings again, “I’m not. Just...you can exhale now, Merlin, it’s alright.”

Merlin breathes. His wings flutter a little. A tiny gold glimmer darts around the feathers. He relaxes back into Arthur’s arms, letting Arthur hold his weight and his wings.

“You’re alright, now…”

A soft knock on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Morgana.”

“And Gwen!”

“Merlin?” Arthur chuckles when Merlin just mumbles. “Come in.”

Morgana giggles as she catches sight of Merlin all sprawled out on Arthur’s chest. “Seems Arthur started feather collecting earlier, hmm?”

“Feather collecting?”

“You didn’t think those pillows made themselves, did you?”

Gwen rolls her eyes as the two bicker, reaching to gently pull Merlin forward to hug him.

“You feeling a little better?”

“A little.”

Gwen smiles. “I’m so glad. You look…a little lighter too.”

Merlin smiles back.

“He hasn’t told you either?”

Merlin glances around to see Morgana shaking her head. Arthur huffs.

“Well, now we both have to ask him.”

Merlin’s face goes pale. “A-ask me what?”

“Don’t look so afraid,” Morgana says, “it ruins your lovely face.”

…well, he’s not pale anymore.

“Stop flirting with my Merlin.”

“Oh he’s your Merlin, now, is he?”

“He’s always been my Merlin.”

“What did you want to ask me,” Merlin interrupts before his face can get any redder.

“Right.” Arthur claps his hands. “Can you fly?”

“What?”

“Can you fly?” Arthur gestures to the wings. “Or are they just there to be pretty?”

“What happened to no flirting?”

“Oh, that’s just for you.”

“Rude.”

“I, um…” Merlin twists his hands together. “I’ve never tried.”

Morgana looks at Arthur. Arthur looks at Morgana. They both look at Merlin. Gwen giggles.

Merlin sighs.

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

Merlin dreams of flying.

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

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supercalvin · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw your ficlet that you wrote to cheer up someone who came out and didn't have a good experience with it and I was wondering if you could maybe write another one? My girlfriend and I came out at the same time and no one's taking it too well. We're both big fans of Merlin and especially your ficlets. I was wondering if you can write a nice supportive coming out ficlet to maybe cheer her up?

So I will tell you what I said to @ancient-depressed-druid over on that other ficlet: *Immediately drops all other prompts* LOOK AT ME. I’M THE PARENT NOW.

NEVER SPEAK TO ME OR MY KIDS EVER AGAIN

1. I hope you don’t mind that I based on a fic idea my friend gave me. It’s really funny, although it’s not necessarily a ‘coming out fic’ I hope its enough to cheer you both up.

2. This turned out wayyy too long again. Whoops.

3. Did I take 20 min to make that image?? YES I DID

Prompts + Ficlets

***

Balinor arrived at the oral surgeon’s office with a sigh. To say that this was not how Balinor expected to spend his afternoon would be an understatement.

“I’m here to pick up Arthur Pendragon,” He told the receptionist.

There were a lot of things about the last fifteen years of Balinor’s life that he hadn’t expected. For one thing, he hadn’t expected to run into an old flame when he moved to Camelot. He hadn’t expected her to have a little toddler at her ankles who had looked so similar to Balinor it actually knocked the breath out of him the first time he saw Merlin.

He hadn’t expected to fall back in love with Hunith or to suddenly become a full-time Dad as Hunith worked full-time at the local senior home.

He also hadn’t expected when Merlin came out to him, but Hunith had admonished him for not noticing Merlin’s small probing conversation starters before. Balinor had never been very good at social cues. Merlin had gotten all those genes from his mother.

“Da, can Arthur come over after school tomorrow?”

“Who’s Arthur? You’ve not mentioned him before.” Balinor had asked, not looking up from the wood he had been cutting. (Merlin had become an avid reader and needed a new bookshelf in his room. Merlin had said they could just buy one but Balinor had insisted on making one for him.)

“Um…Well… He’s my boyfriend. Maybe.”

Balinor had looked up at that. Merlin had his arms wrapped around himself and he had hovered by the door, as if he was about to run out.

Balinor had nodded, “Fine. But you have to keep your door open when he’s here.”

“Da,” Merlin’s face had been bright red, but he had also looked pleased.

“Get back here,” Balinor had stopped him before Merlin bolted out the door. Balinor had pulled his son into a quick hug and pressed a kiss to his hair. At seventeen years old, Merlin was skinny and soon he would be just as tall as Balinor himself. When that day came, Balinor would miss being able to coddle him so easily.

“Thanks, Da.”

“Don’t be too happy, I haven’t met this Arthur yet.”

On principle, Balinor did not like Arthur. No one would be good enough for Merlin, but especially not some spoiled brat. Hunith liked Arthur, which was the only reason Balinor tolerated Merlin having the kid over as often as he did. It wasn’t that he was mean to Arthur (of course not) it was just that Merlin was the most important thing in Balinor’s life, and there was a high possibility that young love would turn to young heartbreak. Balinor only wished he could spare his son that.

Today, Arthur was getting his wisdom teeth removed and the original plan was for Hunith and Merlin to pick him up. Apparently, Uther was on a business that had been scheduled for the same week as Arthur’s surgery. But then Merlin had had to help his Uncle Gaius at the shop and then there had been an emergency at the senior home and Hunith couldn’t do it.

Which left Balinor.

Balinor was ushered into the back room where Arthur was holding an icepack to his face, eyes glazed over.

“Arthur?” Balinor leant down to catch the boy’s eye.

Arthur blinked a few times and then he seemed to recognize Balinor.

“Mr. Emrysss!” He said with what Balinor assumed was a smile, although his cheeks were so puffed that it was hard to tell. “Ow.”

“Careful of the stitches,” The nurse said. “Maybe get a milkshake, love.”

“Milkshake,” Arthur said with wide eyes, looking up at Balinor.

Shit.

Which is how Balinor found himself driving down the road trying to remember the closest ice cream shop.

“Sorry you got stuck with me. I know you don’t like me.”

Balinor was surprised that despite the slow and slurred speech Arthur seemed aware enough to say this.

“I don’t dislike you. You’re dating my son. I’m just watching out for Merlin.”

“’das fair.” Arthur said and then poked his own cheek a few times.

“Stop that. You’ll pull the stitches.” Balinor pulled his hands away from his face.

Arthur sat on his hands, looking like a scolded five-year-old instead of a bratty teenager.

Arthur still seemed very out of it and didn’t say much for another few minutes. He might have dozed off, but he woke up again when Balinor handed him a vanilla milkshake.

“’hanks”

With a bit of sugar into him, Arthur became decidedly more chatty.

“You know, I really do like Merlin.”

“I would hope so,” Balinor said as he drove.

“I love him, actually. Haven’t told him yet. Scarred.”

Balinor’s heart tugged a bit. He wasn’t heartless. He just worried over Merlin. But he could also recognize that Arthur was also a young boy in the throes of first love too.

“Don’t be scarred of your own feelings, Arthur.” Balinor said, a phrase that he had told Merlin many times before.

“Not what my Dad says. Always tells me to get over it.”

Balinor had only ever met Uther once, but he was starting to really not like the man. Really, what kind of man had a business trip on the same week as his son’s surgery?

“You know, I really respect you.” Arthur said, “You’re always so good to Merlin. And saying things like that about feelings. Even if you’re all stoic. I like that. Wish my Dad was like that instead of just being an asshole. Shit, sorry for cursing.”

Balinor had to hold in a laugh, although it was hard. The poor kid was out of his mind on pain meds.

“You know, when Merlin invites me over on Sundays, and Ms. E makes dinner and we watch a film, it’s like the best thing that happens to me all week.”

At a stop sign, Balinor looked over at Arthur who was cradling his milkshake with reverent hands. He also was looking out the window, not really aware of Balinor. As if he was just saying his internal monologue out loud.

“Sometimes I don’t see my Dad all week and I’m alone in a big house for days in a row.” Arthur said, his voice sounding distant, “Dad doesn’t have a clue about Merlin. He barely knows I’m alive, let alone gay. So I’m glad Merlin has you,” Arthur looked back over at Balinor, suddenly pinning him in his seat with round dilated eyes. “You’re a good Dad. Maybe you don’t like me, but it’s because you want Merlin to have the best. That’s alright by me. I don’t think I’m good enough for Merlin either. But I’ll stick around because he wants me to.”

Balinor cleared his throat and turned back to the road after realizing he had been stopped at a stop sign for over a minute.

***

A week later, Arthur was fully recovering from the surgery and he had no recollection of anything he said to Balinor. As far as he was aware, he got a milkshake, took a nap, and woke up groggy on the Emrys’ front room sofa.

The following Sunday, Arthur was invited to their family dinner. Afterwards, when Arthur offered to do the dishes, Balinor quietly started drying, telling Hunith and Merlin to go pick a film.

There was tension pouring off Arthur in waves.

“We’re going on a family trip to Ireland in the summer,” Balinor said, wiping down a pan.

“Yeah, Merlin told me. Sounds nice,” Arthur said awkwardly.

“You’re invited.”

“What?” Arthur dropped the bowl back into the soapy water with a loud ‘plop.’

Balinor made eye contact with Arthur, who looked utterly baffled. “Do you want to go?”

“I mean…uh,” Arthur blinked.

“It’d be nice for you to come,” Balinor said. “Merlin would be ecstatic. You two could go off sightseeing while Hunith and I visit old friends.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

“Arthur,” Balinor said, trying to make himself clear. “Merlin didn’t ask me. He doesn’t even know I’m asking you. I’m asking because I want you to come along.”

Arthur nodded. His mouth was still half open in surprise. “Yeah. Um. I’d like that. Thanks.”

“Good,” Balinor dried off another plate and ruffled Arthur’s hair. “Finish up here. Those two are likely picking some horrible film. I need your vote against another historical drama.”

Arthur looked baffled, but he also looked pleased.

Good, Balinor thought. Maybe it wasn’t too bad having another son around the house.

***

Prompts + Ficlets

Balinor said, “Is anyone gonna adopt this kid?” and then didn’t wait for an answer.

#merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merthur fic #ficlets #Anonymous

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witchmd13 · 3 years

Note

The thing that I've been thinking about a lot lately in regards to the Druid episode in S4 is how we all assume that nothing ever came of it but I'm wondering of maybe that's the wrong way to look at it? I mean Arthur promises that the druids would no longer be raided and senselessly slaughtered and in 5x04 we see Arthur ask the man hanging the sorcereress if she'd received a fair trial. That actually suggests to me that he did keep his promise in the sense that sorcerers were no longer being killed without reason the way they were under Uther. Even with Kara, he didn't kill her simply bc she was a sorcereress but bc she pledged her loyalty to Morgana and killed multiple innocent people. So in that sense, he did keep his promise. Beyond that, I actually think it's a bit unreasonable to expect him to simply lift the ban on magic when he didn't know the full truth and had reason to be wary of magic users. I mean aside from the Dolma pretty much almost all of Arthur's interactions with magic users even in the last couple of seasons were where they threatened him or his people. When you think about it, Arthur was betrayed and lied to by magic users so many times yet he still found it in himself to at least question the belief that all magic users were evil. I don't think it's fair the way people try to judge and condemn Arthur when the truth is that he did the best he could with the knowledge that was available to him. Beyond that, it's really not his fault that nobody would tell him the truth. While I don't believe that Merlin had any obligation to tell Arthur about his magic, I do think that would've been the thing that changed Arthur's mind for good bc I have every reason to believe that while he would probably have been upset at having been lied to (and understandably so IMO) he would've come around to it pretty quickly. Anyway, I'm just wondering if maybe we look at Arthur's promise in the Druid episode the wrong way in some ways

I agree 100% with everything you said.

I’m going to elaborate on the way I see it. I realize a lot of people are going to strongly disagree with my answer, but I’m going to write it once and for all.

First time watching, I honestly thought Arthur did change his policies regarding the Druids just like he’s told the Druid boy. I thought he was just teasing Merlin. Later, and mainly because of tumblr, I changed my mind and assumed I read the situation incorrectly, but now that I’ve had the time to watch it again and let it set with me, I really believe my initial impression was correct. Arthur didn’t fully lift the magic ban (for all the reasons you’ve mentioned and I’m going to elaborate on that in a moment), but I fully believe he did stop persecuting Druids and attacking them based solely on the fact that they existed. The main thing that makes me believe it so is what Arthur tells Merlin in Arthur’s Bane about the murdered Druids they find (just after Merlin hears Arthur’s death prophecy for the first time). He says: “We’ll leave once we give these people a proper burial” which, I believe, is something Uther would’ve never allowed had his policies remained unchanged. Mordred tells Merlin later that sorcerers were not allowed marked graves, do you think Uther would’ve permitted that to Druids?

I also totally believe Arthur stopped persecuting people for being born with magic (for the same reasons he presented to Uther when he was defending Mordred in the Beginning of the End; that he was just a boy and there was no telling what he’ll do when he grows up), but he didn’t stop persecuting people who actively practiced magic, and since he had very good reasons to believe all magic was evil, I think was a very good change at that point.

The show made it perfectly clear that in the end the story became about Merlin and Arthur, and I truly believe that’s what they were going for at the end. The story zeroed in on Arthur and Merlin so much that we weren’t even shown what Gwen did as queen, what happened to everyone else, hell we weren’t even shown the result of the battle, only what happened to Arthur and Merlin. You are free to see that as a flaw in the storytelling of the show (as I do), but it’s another reason why I believe we weren’t shown the gradual change in Arthur’s policies regarding magic in the years between s4 and 5 and after the episode with Dolma. Still, like you said, we could see it in the whole Kara issue. I believe Arthur had 100% the right to have her killed. He had given her the opportunity to go back on it and get away with it, which, yeah, she tried to kill the King in time of war, had killed multiple people, and had publicly declared her allegiance to Morgana. How can anyone really expect Arthur to let her live? are you kidding?!?

Morgana’s actions and her constant attacks on Camelot made it impossible to change something as drastic as an almost 30 year old magic ban.

I never saw anyone talking about this, so I’m mentioning it here. Morgana’s story from Arthur’s POV must’ve been a literal sobering nightmare on how magic can corrupt. I’m honestly surprised it didn’t turn him away completely from magic forever even before he asked Dragoon to save Uther. Here was this girl who was good and kind to everyone suddenly without warning turning into this monster that broke his father’s heart and wanted to kill him and his people (still, the one time we saw his reaction to her being imprisoned and tortured was clear hurt for her). All he knew was that one day Morgana cane near magic and then became the polar opposite of who she was. How can you blame him for thinking magic had corrupted her? How can you blame him for thinking magic was pure evil?

Arthur’s betrayal at Merlin’s secret was just that. It was because Merlin didn’t tell him, not because he had magic. It was about them, about their friendship and their personal relationship. It was never about the magic or not trusting Merlin himself. He was willing to send Merlin back to Camelot and to Gwen, to his kingdom and his queen! He absolutely trusted Merlin. He was just hurt.

I don’t believe either Morgana or Merlin owed Arthur the truth, but we have to keep in mind that Arthur was kept in the dark about magic almost his entire life. All he knew was that it corrupts and kills and hurts people and he still made the choice to assume the good when he had the choice. If anything, that shows his true character more than anything.

#arthur pendragon #afireice #ask #honestly if you read all of that you deserve a cookie #i just have so many feelings about arthur's relationship with magic you have no idea #believe it or not this is the edited version #lmao

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maaaddiexo · 4 years

Text

Chapter Three

Arthur Pendragon

Series: The Black Spear

Mainlist | Serieslist

A land lost to fire and magic but never forgotten.

A girl once of noble blood.

A boy blind to his own luxury.

---

Controlled chaos ensued for the next five minutes. Guards and Knights scrambled for extra weapons as the warning bell was rung from the highest tower. Arthur stood off to the side speaking with his father and Morgana. Merlin spoke with Gaius by the bushes urgently. With everybody distracted by something, Y/N pulled Clarice off to the side.

“I want you to leave. Get out of the castle and get to the others. Take them back to the camp.”

“What about you?”

“You look like a servant. I’ll get too much attention wearing this. You have more of a chance if you go alone.”

“We took an oath, Y/N. I won’t break it and leave you behind.”

“You have to.”

“You’re sitting ducks here. The guards will never get in position in time.”

“Clarice, today is not the day to be stubborn. If this is the day I die then it has been an honour to serve with you all. You have made my life amazing and exciting. Something a noble life could never be. Now go!” Y/N could tell Clarice didn’t want to leave her behind, but the blue-eyed girl turned her back and ran towards the maze. Once she was out of sight, Y/N turned and searched the crowd for a familiar face. It was Arthur she spotted first. He wasn’t necessarily tall, but he was taller than a lot of the people there.

“What’s going to happen?”

“The guards will form a circle around us. They’ve barricaded the castle doors already. We won’t be able to get in but if they think we’re in the castle when we’re out here we might be able to buy ourselves a little more time.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Arthur didn’t have an answer for her. “Look, just do what I tell you to, okay? It’s for your own safety.”

“Are Suron’s men good fighters?”

“They’re a well-trained army,” Arthur admitted and then gave Y/N a small smirk that didn’t seem entirely real. “But mine is better.”

The warning bell mixed in the air with shouts and war cries. The battle had begun. Y/N heard as swords clanged and men screamed in the distancce. She heard the sound of the castle doors being broken down and wondered how long they would be in the castle before they realized nobody was there.

She stood between Gwen and Arthur silently. In front of them, a row of knights stood in position, waiting for the garden doors to be broken down. Y/N covered her mouth with her hand to silence her heavy breathing. Somebody grabbed her hand in the darkness and she realized it was Gwen. The girl inched forward so that she was slightly in front of Y/N. When Y/N realized Gwen was protecting her, she felt her heart tighten. These weren’t her people and she owed them nothing yet they were willing to lay down their lives for her. In that moment – looking at the back of Gwen’s hair – she decided that when the gardens doors burst open and all hell broke loose, she wouldn’t stand idly by. She took an oath; not that of a princess but of a Protector.

When the garden doors finally fell, there wasn’t an immediate onslaught of invaders into the garden. They walked calmly and slowly over the doors and stopped on the other side. A man at the front with a receding hairline and a large scar running down the majority of his face sneered.

“Uther Pendragon. You’re looking pretty rough these days.”

“Yes. That happens when I’m constantly having people break into my castle,” the man responded wittily. “Leave now and we will not fight you.”

“That’s too bad,” the man chuckled. He tightened his grip on his sword. “I was kind of hoping for a fight.” And then he swung.

A guard met his blow with a block but stumbled under his force. As the other invaders rushed forward, so did the rest of the Camelot guards and knights. There were louder cries of war and pain as men from both sides fell and rose. And unlike last time, Y/N could see who it was crying out in pain and that was somehow worse. Y/N felt herself back up further and further until her back brushed the large hedge.

“It’s fine,” Gwen said over the sound of metal on metal. “Arthur has trained his men well. They’ll hold Suron’s men off until the rest can get here.”

“Arthur looks like he’s itching for a sword,” Y/N breathed, staring at the boy beside her. He was practically vibrating with adrenaline, shifting his feet and fisting his hands. He smiled at every step forward his men took and felt every blow his men felt. When one fell, he instinctively reached for a sword that wasn’t there. Y/n felt for him and had to look away.

“He might need one. We’re severely outnumbered- wait. Who’s that? Up on the balcony.”

Y/N followed Gwen’s line of sight and spotted a figure running along the balcony above the garden towards a banner that hung down. They were dressed in shades of black with a ripped jacket and worn boots. A mask covered the lower half of their face but when they turned, Y/N saw the glimpse of braided fire red hair and wild blue eyes.

Y/N smiled and shook her head as she watched her friend disarm an invader and frisk him for his weapons. “Should’ve known she’d never leave me behind.”

“What?” Gwen asked.

“I said could you hold this for me?” Y/N handed the borrowed crown to Gwen without waiting for a response. “Thanks.”

“Wait? Where are you going?”

Y/N didn’t answer. Clarice was already bringing her hand behind her head to throw a sword and Y/N had to be there to catch it. She was happy her dress was light and billowy as it was light when she ran and both Arthur and Gwen failed to grab it and hold her back.

As the sword summersaulted through the air, Y/N ran for the table covered with delicious foods. She stepped on a chair and then the table before jumping into the air to grab the sword. When she had it firmly in her grasp, she felt the power and confidence flood her body and smiled up at Clarice just as her friend repelled down the blood-red banner.

“You’re stupider than I thought if you actually thought – even for a second – that I was going to leave you behind.”

Y/N smiled and to the onlookers, it looked out of place. The two girls held swords comfortably – as if familiar with wielding them – and were surrounding by battling and fallen soldiers. But had they been dressed like the rest of fighters, nobody would have been able to pick them out of the crowd. They fought just like the men but were more graceful and with Y/N’s billowing dress, Arthur thought she looked like a goddess.

“Where did they learn to fight like that?” Arthur asked nobody in particular.

“They look like rebels,” Uther replied.

“Look!” Morgana yelled and pointed to the same balcony Clarice had come from. More female rebels flooded the balcony and repelled down the banners and made quick work of cutting down the enemy. They didn’t stop to cry when they sustained an injury and they didn’t grimace when they were splattered with blood.

“I’ve never seen such talented rebels,” Arthur told his father.

Uther was in complete awe and admiration as he spoke. “I don’t think they are.”

“But you said-”

“I-I was wrong.”

When Arthur focused on all the girls and not just Y/N’s graceful fighting style, he realized his father was right. They fought much like his own soldiers – the same techniques and moves – but with more grace and efficiency. They were dressed like rebels but no rebel he knew of fought like a knight.

There were only a handful of Suron’s men left and they were quickly surrounded by both of the other parties. Still, they went down fighting but were slaughtered within minutes. Arthur watched Y/N fight with the elegance of a princess and the fierceness of a knight. She was unstoppable and she knew it. When the last invader had fallen, there was a moment of silence before one of the knights sheathed his sword and began to clap. Slowly but surely, everyone still standing in the garden began to clap and Y/N smiled, walking over to the group of royalty. All were shocked into silence except for Uther, who had seen this sight once before.

“You’re Keepers of the Black Spear.” It wasn’t a question. Y/N smiled.

“Yes.” She gestured to another girl who stepped up beside her – no older than she – and pointed to the insignia stitched into the shoulder. “You recognized our mark?”

“No…no. I’ve seen this once before. When I was a boy.”

“Who are the Keepers of the Black Spear?” Morgana asked.

“It’s believed they fell into myth long ago,” Uther said. He still couldn’t take his eyes off the girls in front of him. “The Black Spear was the alias of a man long ago. He was good but did bad to achieve it and thus gained many enemies. According to legend, he hired only the best of fighters which happened to all be women. They were the best-trained fighters in the world. But they were also guardians. Protectors. It is said they keep the world mostly at peace, eliminating threats and creatures of magic.”

“Actually, just those who perform bad acts. Human or magical, we have no quarrel with those who do good.”

“How did you come to be a part of this…organization?” Arthur asked.

“They were the ones who found me and the few survivors after Coventry was attacked. The men were taken to nearby towns and the women to the Black Spear’s camp. They’ve raised me and have become my family.”

Arthur pursed his lips and stared at the crown in Guinevere’s hands. He tapped it. “I guess you won’t be wanting this back?”

“I appreciate all that you have done for me, but I am a Keeper now. My royal life is in the past, and that is where it is meant to stay.”

Arthur nodded firmly and stepped forward. He looked at Y/N once again and took in her appearance for he knew this was where they parted. Her hair was now a mess and covered in blood, which had run down her face like rain down a window. Her dress was ripped and Arthur spotted a few cuts on her arms. By all definition, Y/N was a mess, but she was still beautiful. Fierce and beautiful.

“Thank you for coming to our aid. I see you have no loyalty to anybody and yet you risked your lives for Camelot. Thank you. Camelot owes you a debt.” Someone in the background muttered, ‘Oou. The Prince owes us one. Fancy’.

“Maybe I’ll come collect it one day but for now, I think it best if me and the girls get as far away from Suron as soon as possible.”

Arthur laughed. “Good idea. It was an honour to meet you, My Lady.”

Y/N stuck out her hand for a shake but Arthur treated her like the princess she once was and not the commoner she currently was and kissed the back of her hand. Y/N rolled her eyes but let it happen. When Arthur stood up and rolled his shoulders back, Y/N leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

“If you ever want to play damsel in distress again, head north and travel beyond the mountain ridge.”

Arthur gave a humourless laugh. “Right, okay.” Like he would need help from a girl ever again. This was the one and only time a girl would save him.

Y/N gave him a brilliant smile. “See you around, Art.”

#camelot #merlin #the adventures of merlin #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #king arthur #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon fanfiction #merlin imagine #merlin fanfiction #camelot imagine #camelot fanfiction #love #romance #fantasy #adventure

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?”

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows.

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power.

Arthur had mixed feelings about that.

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling.

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

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the-weeping-monk · 4 years

Text

visions are seldom all they seem (but i know you)

Chapter 5

prev-next/find on ao3

“There isn’t much time.”

Nimue’s mouth went dry. “I don’t understand, what’s happening?”

“It’s Cumber. He’s sending an army to wipe the Fey out.” Morgana paused, then amended, “Well, another army.”

“‘Another army’? They didn’t leave on the ships?” Nimue wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or dismayed, but she was definitely guilty. Had they stayed for her? She had told Arthur to leave, to not look back. She had made her choice for the good of her people—why couldn’t he have just let her go?

But the tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered to her that the Fey had stayed for her. Because they believed in her.

“No,” Morgana said, shaking her head. “I didn’t know it, either, but apparently Cumber sent soldiers to make certain the Fey never left the beach.”

Her stomach dropped. How many casualties? she wanted to ask. How many did we lose?

But Nimue remained silent. She could not ask now or else she might break, and that was not an option. She had to be strong—if not for herself, then for the Fey. Taking a deep breath, she asked instead, “What do we do?”

“I made sure that Arthur led the Fey to safety. By the time Cumber’s soldiers arrive at the beach, they should be long gone.”

“You saw Arthur?” Nimue’s heart stuttered. “How is he? Is he alright?”

Morgana gave a rueful smile and glanced away. “He’s fine, Nimue.”

Nimue couldn’t help the small sigh that escaped her. Arthur was alive, alive, alive. She would get to see him and this time, they would never have to be parted again.

“In the meantime, we need to slow Cumber’s army down. If you and Merlin work together—wait.” Morgana paused and looked around the clearing, her gaze briefly stumbling on the Monk. “Where’s Merlin? And what is he doing here?” she demanded, jerking her head toward the ex-Paladin.

Ignoring Morgana’s last question, Nimue asked, “Is Merlin supposed to be here?” She found that she didn’t possess enough energy to pretend to defend the Monk’s reasons for tagging along. She still hadn’t made up her mind about him yet, still hadn’t decided if she could move past what he had done to her people.

To their people, she reminded herself. Because he had not just harmed a race he didn’t understand out of fear or ignorance, no—the Monk had been a part of mass genocide against his own kind.

It made her sick, it made her angry. She didn’t want to feel anything other than hatred toward him, but the previous night had complicated things. His confession had twisted her assumption of him and made Nimue question everything she knew. The Monk was single-handedly blurring her well-constructed lines between good and evil, and she didn’t know what to do.

She never should have let the Monk travel with them. He and Squirrel were already closer than she could have imagined, given the circumstances; the boy had even let him call him by his given name. Squirrel was young, impressionable. What would happen if he and the Monk grew closer if the boy began to look up to the allegedly reformed murderer?

Clenching her teeth, Nimue silently resolved to make sure that never happened, whatever it took.

“Merlin told me that he was going to meet you,” Morgana said, bringing Nimue back to the present.

“Well, obviously something got in his way.” Nimue paused, thinking, and then, “Where did you two go after I . . .” she trailed off, unable to form the words. Her fall was still fresh in her mind, the feeling of Death’s talons gripping her lungs still paralyzing.

Morgana pursed her lips. “We went back to his old tower in Uther’s palace. We didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Do you think Uther found him?” Nimue didn’t want to believe it, but it was entirely possible. Even if Merlin had his magic back, he couldn’t defend himself or outright murder the king without risk of being hunted down for generations to come.

“I don’t know what to think anymore, but there isn’t enough time to debate. We have to get to the Fey before Cumber’s army does.”

“What makes you think that we can do anything against an entire army?” Nimue asked, doubtful.

Morgana gave her a flat look. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.”

Nimue’s brow furrowed. “I’m serious, Morgana. Getting rid of those soldiers in the forest was one thing—fighting off an entire army is another.”

It was true; Nimue had been able to fend off a handful of soldiers, but she knew she was not yet ready to take on an entire army, at least not alone. Maybe if Merlin were there it would be different, but he was nowhere to be found.

“You will have me.”

Nimue startled. It was the first time the Monk had spoken since Morgana had arrived. Nimue almost wished she could say she had forgotten he was there, but it wouldn’t have been true—she felt his presence in the back of her mind, a steady heat burning in her subconscious. Ever since she had had that vision of him in the caverns, something had changed.

No, changed wasn’t the right word, she decided. Something had been discovered, something that had always been there, buried in the shadows of her mind. Fate had led them there, and fate guided them now.

It was only then that she realized what—or, more accurately, who—she was connected with, and she stifled a wave of revulsion.

There must have been some sort of fluke; maybe the presence in the back of her mind was her mother, guiding her to the right decision. After all, it felt good and kind and familiar, and the Monk was none of those things.

It couldn't be the Monk. Fate wouldn’t be that cruel.

Morgana scoffed. “I still don’t understand what he is doing here.” The question was directed at Nimue but her eyes were on the Monk. “Didn’t he hunt you all down, hell-bent on murdering the Fey?”

The Monk looked away, a muscle jumping in his jaw. “Yes,” he breathed, “I did.”

“And you’re fine with that, Nimue? Welcoming him into your good graces after all that he has done?” Morgana shook her head before Nimue had the chance to respond. “Did the water of the lake damage your brain, is that what this is?”

“Morgana,” Nimue said her name like an order. The young Daughter stopped her tangent and gazed at Nimue expectantly. “I am not saying that I’m alright with the . . . situation,” she glanced sidelong at the Monk, whose gaze was resolutely turned away, “but I am asking you to focus on what’s more important at the moment—the Fey.” Nimue closed her eyes in anticipation of what she was about to say. “And if Lancelot is offering his help, then I won’t turn him away.”

For a moment, Nimue was sure Morgana wouldn’t respond, and then—

“He’s Lancelot now?” She guffawed. “I didn’t realize we were humanizing murderers.”

Nimue tried to be patient, she really did, but it wasn’t in her power. She was disgusted with the Monk and frustrated that Morgana was questioning Nimue’s decision to allow him to stay with them. Why couldn’t anything be easy for once?

“I’m not asking you to understand, Morgana,” Nimue said, patience running thin, “so let’s focus and discuss what’s more important right now.”

Morgana bit the inside of her cheek. She was silent for a few agonizing moments before she spoke.

“They Fey could have left tracks—they were in a hurry.”

Nimue let out a small sigh of relief at Morgana’s compliance. “If Cumber’s army is already on its way, then we have to move fast to intercept them. They’ll likely have sent scouts ahead, and I can’t let them get back to the soldiers with wind of where the Fey went.”

“I agree. Head there now—I’ll go find Merlin and have him come to you so he can transport the lot of you to the beach,” Morgana asserted. “Once you get there, make sure to cover any tracks the Fey could have left.”

Nimue nodded. The decision had been made. “Born in the dawn.”

Morgana’s answering smile was grim. Idly, Nimue found she had trouble remembering the last time she had seen her friend smile. “To pass in the twilight.”

The Fey expression was easier than saying goodbye. It meant that there was still a chance of life beyond death, that if something ever happened, Nimue and Morgana would one day reunite.

Nimue blinked and Morgana was gone.

There were a few moments of palpable silence before Nimue turned back to Squirrel and the Monk, determination hardening her gaze. “We have to leave, immediately.”

No objections were made—both Squirrel and the Monk seemed to understand the weight of the situation.

The Monk didn’t spare her a glance as he lifted Squirrel onto the horse and started forward on foot. His limp was more prominent than it had been, though his face was emotionless, dead eyes staring straight ahead. He must have reinjured himself during the fight.

She made herself look away. One minute she hated him, and the next she was sympathizing with him?

But she couldn’t just let him hurt himself further. Whether she liked it or not, their paths were intertwined. As his queen, she had a duty to help him—she owed it to him to give him this. He had saved her and Squirrel, and that counted for something.

Nimue sighed. She couldn’t believe she was actually going to do this.

“Mo—Lancelot,” she called, tripping over his name. He turned back to her, hand snapping to one of his swords, ready to fight at a moment’s notice despite being heavily injured. “Use the horse. I need a good walk.”

His expression hardened, most likely thinking that she was pitying him. His voice was rough when he muttered out an “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re clearly not.” Nimue walked forward, catching up to him easily and stopping in front of him. “Get on the horse. That’s an order from your queen.” When he didn’t move right away, she tried again. “I thought you said you were loyal to me?”

This seemed to get his attention. “Yes, my lady.”

Nimue blinked. “I’m not your lady.”

The Monk gave her a quizzical look before his mask fell back into place once more. “What should I call you then?”

Nimue hesitated. “Not ‘my lady’.”

Maybe it was the light or the adrenaline from earlier warping her perception of reality, but Nimue could have sworn the Monk’s lips had quirked up in the beginnings of a smile.

The Monk did as he was commanded and climbed atop his horse behind Squirrel, who had been noticeably silent throughout the entire exchange. When the boy caught her staring, he merely raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment.

Nimue didn’t know what that was meant to convey, and she didn’t ask, and instead started forward along the path once more. They could have stayed in their little camp until Merlin found them, but Nimue knew she wouldn’t have been able to sit still, not with Fey lives on the line. She had to move, had to do something.

But even as they walked, the silence of the woods was too all-consuming and she was bombarded by intruding thoughts.

What if Cumber’s army discovered the Fey? Would Arthur be alright, was he struggling to lead the Fey? What about Pym and Kaze? Nimue hadn’t even thought to ask Morgana about them.

She had to distract herself.

“So,” she found herself saying, “how do you think you did it?”

The Monk knew what she was referring to and didn’t ask for clarification. “I’m not sure.”

Nimue frowned, though he couldn’t see it; she was still staring resolutely ahead. “You cloaked all of us with your magic; that must have taken a lot of concentration. Are you sure that you weren’t thinking of anything specific?”

She looked over her shoulder in time to catch the shake of his head. His eyes were on the horizon, but when he felt her staring at him, he met her gaze. Nimue whipped her head back to face the front as if she had been burned.

After the awkwardness had passed, she began again. “When I was first learning how to wield my magic, it responded to my emotions. Was it like that for you, do you think?”

The Monk was silent for a moment before he spoke, deliberating. “All I knew was that I had to protect Percival. And you,” he said.

“And you said that you’ve never done this before? Not once, not even on accident?”

The Monk shook his head once. “I never had a reason to protect anyone before,” he said simply.

When she had asked him the first time, the Monk’s brows had pinched together in confusion. But this has never happened before.

Have you ever needed to use it? she had asked, though she felt she already knew the answer.

The Monk had stayed silent, proving her suspicions correct.

Now that she had a verbal admission, it wasn’t necessarily surprising, but it was odd to hear all the same. Nimue hadn’t found herself wondering what the Monk’s life had been like with the Paladins—considering he was a Fey hiding in plain sight—but now she began to imagine. And she hated what her mind came up with, hated the sympathy rising within her. Hated that she could quite possibly relate to his situation more than anyone else could.

Nimue still remembered what it felt like to be hated for what she could do.

No! Stop, please! Fear had crept up her throat. Please stop! No, stop!

Peri had not listened to her pleas. That’s the mark of the dark gods. Then, Is that what you did, demon? Used your magic to make Wallo look at you? She sounded incredulous. Do you think he’d ever be with you?

Leave me alone! Nimue had cried, the fear within her spiraling out of control. Would they kill her, would they cut her open and leave her to rot? Would her mother ever find her body?

She had been panting, her heart had raced out of control.

The next thing she heard had been Peri’s screams.

Let go of her, Nimue! Wallo had demanded, frightened eyes beseeching. Nimue!

It had not taken long before Wallo and his friend had cut Peri loose, but once they did, they had scampered away into the forest, fleeing for their lives. Nimue had instilled that fear in them.

But instead of saying any of this, instead of telling him that she understood, all she could breathe out was a soft “oh.”

Despite the fact that Nimue was only assuming his experience had been as bad as hers, she couldn’t help her hatred for him ebbing away. She didn’t trust him—didn’t even like him—but it eased her conscience knowing that for all the pain he had caused the Fey, he suffered just as much hiding who he was from his supposed brothers.

“Uh, Nimue?” Squirrel asked, nervous.

Nimue glanced back at the boy. “Yes?”

Squirrel didn’t respond. He merely pointed up at the blue, midday sky.

Except the sky wasn’t blue. Instead, dark, ominous clouds began to gather overhead, blocking out their view of the sun.

Thunder rumbled.

Nimue’s stomach sank. This wasn’t good.

. . .

To say that Merlin was having a rough day would be a monumental understatement.

Just as he had been about to leave to find Nimue, royal guards led by Uther himself had crashed through Merlin’s door.

Merlin had started up out of his seat where he had been preparing a rucksack, eyebrows shooting up. He had distinctly remembered locking the door in the event his rooms were ever searched, though he hadn’t expected anyone to break down his door in order to get in—Uther knew he didn’t have anything important in his chambers besides empty wine bottles.

Two soldiers stumbled through the door, and three others followed behind. When they saw Merlin, they stopped dead in their tracks, eyes wide.

Merlin reached for the Sword of Power and stood to face the soldiers, who still hadn’t moved from where they were frozen in the middle of the room. Had he been given more time, he would have hidden the sword, but it was too late now—the soldiers had seen it, and if Merlin didn’t dispose of them, they would report their findings back to Uther. And under no circumstance could Merlin ever let the sword fall into the boy-king’s hands.

“Your majesty?” one of the soldiers asked, hand on his sword as if he were unsure whether to draw the blade or not.

Merlin’s brow creased as he looked beyond the soldiers and into the darkness of the stairwell. Footsteps scuffed against stone, followed by a crisp voice.

“What is it?” Uther snapped, coming into view before stopping abruptly, eyes disbelieving. He blinked, and then his face grew deathly pale. “Merlin?” his voice came out as a whisper.

Merlin should have been angry, should have been vengeful. Uther had had him killed, he had wanted him dead. But maybe Merlin should have been there for him more. Maybe he should’ve been more supportive of Uther’s ventures.

He should’ve done so many things differently.

Try as he might, Merlin couldn’t help but feel responsible for Uther and who he had become. The magician had known the boy-king for his entire life, had watched as he grew up, had celebrated each of his accomplishments as if they were his own.

He hadn’t meant to get attached, but then again, Merlin had a habit of caring far too much.

“Did you expect I would be easy to kill?” Merlin asked, tone carefully reserved.

Uther flinched. Fear and a tinge of regret laced his tone as he demanded, “How?”

“How about you tell me why you tried to kill me?” Merlin’s voice was even and controlled.

The soldiers between them shifted uncomfortably, glancing between the two men. Their hands were on the hilts of their swords, poised to attack Merlin with one word from their king.

A broken sound came out of Uther’s throat, and after a few moments of concern, Merlin realized that it was supposed to be a laugh. His eyes were crazed and red and he looked like he hadn’t had a wink of sleep in days.

Merlin’s eyes softened imperceptibly. “Uther, I—”

“What is that?” Uther demanded, eyes focused on the Sword of Power clenched in Merlin’s hand. “Is that what We think it is?”

Merlin tried again. “Uther—"

But the boy-king wouldn’t let him finish. “I feel it calling to me.” His eyes darted up to meet Merlin’s own. “Give it to me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Uther’s eyes flashed. “Hand it over and be absolved of your crimes.”

Merlin would have chuckled had he not been overcome with regret. He didn’t want to be Uther’s enemy, but if it was between Nimue and Uther, Merlin would choose Nimue every time.

“I’m sorry, Uther.”

“You lie,” Uther spat the words like they were poison.

You are the king of lies.

He needed to get out of this situation, and fast. Thinking quickly, Merlin began to concentrate on willing a storm to gather overhead. If he could conjure lighting again, as he had on the stone bridge, it would give him a good enough distraction as he made his escape.

Merlin looked away. “I meant what I said, before,” he started. He could feel Uther’s eyes on him, on the sword in his hand. “I am proud of you, Uther.” He raised his eyes to the boy-king, only to find Uther shaking his head fiercely.

And then—

“I trusted you!” Uther shouted, hurt and rage pouring forth, the dam inside him splintering. “How could you do this to me?”

Merlin didn’t want to remind the already unstable king that he had been the one to try and murder Merlin and not the other way around, so he remained silent.

“Have you anything to say for yourself, old man?” Uther’s hands were clenched at his sides and his cheeks were red with bottled fury.

Merlin felt the crackle of energy at his fingertips, ready for use. As much as he wanted to mend things with Uther, he couldn’t waste any more time.

“All I have to say is goodbye,” Merlin said, willing his staff into his hand.

Uther’s eyes shot wide. “No—stop him!” he commanded his guards.

But they were too late; Merlin was already calling down a strike of lighting. By the time the soldiers reached him, Merlin was gone in a flash of blinding electricity, and the soldiers were left smoking in their armor.

. . .

Lancelot had met many powerful Fey, but none as powerful as the one who stood before him—or the one that had appeared in front of them by way of a lightning bolt.

Instinctually, Lancelot dismounted Goliath, gritting his teeth against the ache in his bones. Merlin was a powerful sorcerer and Lancelot knew better than to underestimate him, despite rumors—evidently false rumors—going around that he had lost his magic. Better to be on his toes if Merlin decided he didn’t favor Lancelot’s presence than stuck on the back of a horse.

Squirrel shot him a look of worry, but Lancelot just shook his head. He was fine—he had to be.

Nimue seemed to trust Merlin. That should have been all Lancelot needed to know, but something wasn’t right. He didn’t trust the sorcerer, didn’t trust how he and Nimue were so close despite numerous obstacles in the way of them ever meeting. Lancelot knew he was missing a vital piece of information, but he doubted he would get it from Nimue; he would have to figure it out on his own.

“Merlin,” Nimue breathed, rushing up to the sorcerer in question and throwing her arms around him.

As the skies cleared and returned to their normal color, Merlin wrapped the young queen in his arms and held her. The two sorcerers stood there, not speaking, simply holding the other as if their lives depended on it. Moments passed and Merlin finally pulled back just enough to inspect Nimue’s face, eyes darting between her own and assessing her for any damage.

The act brought a memory to the forefront of Lancelot's mind, one where his father had done the same thing to him as Merlin was doing with Nimue.

Lancelot had been just a boy when he had gone scouring the woods, desperate for the taste of adventure. But he had been young and foolish and had gotten lost. He had been forced to traverse the dangerous woods alone at night, but, after painstakingly retracing his steps, he had eventually found his way back home. His mother had cried and his father had taken his tiny face between his large hands and had inspected him for injury.

Those memories were usually buried deep in his subconscious, but Lancelot found that the more he let go of his life with the Paladins, the more connected he was with his past life—and his real family.

Nimue gripped Merlin’s hands with her own. “I’m sorry that I worried you, but I’m alright.” At his uncertain look, she added, “I promise.”

Merlin dropped his hands from her face and stepped back. “I swear to you I will get my revenge.”

“And I thank you for that, but right now, we have more important things to worry about.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed as Nimue explained their plight. When she was finished, he leaned on his staff for support, head bowed slightly.

“Morgana said that the Fey would be long gone, but I still think we should make sure they didn’t leave any tracks,” Nimue said.

Merlin’s eyes crinkled at the edges as he attempted to smile. “A good plan.”

Nimue waited in silence as if expecting more of a reaction.

“It’s just . . . I’m so proud of you, Nimue,” Merlin spoke, voice shaky. There was pain in his eyes. “I need you to know that.”

Nimue’s answering smile was sheepish. “I couldn’t have done all of this without you.”

“Yes, you could have,” Merlin contradicted without hesitation, “and for the most part, you did. I just helped you open your mind to the Hidden.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

The corners of Merlin’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “And you give me far too much.”

“Nimue,” Squirrel piped up, “we should go. The Fey could be in danger.”

Merlin blinked, gaze going to Squirrel and Lancelot as if he had just noticed they were there. The sorcerer’s eyes narrowed in confusion at the sight of the former Monk but he didn’t comment, which Lancelot took as a good sign. He wouldn’t be murdered today—at least not by Merlin.

Nimue took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right—we have to move. Merlin, do you think you can transport all of us to the beach?”

“It would be an honor.” The sorcerer moved to stand in the middle of their small group. He eyed the Monk warily before he said, “You all need to have physical contact with me in order for this to work.”

“Will you be able to transport Goliath, too?” Squirrel asked.

Merlin’s brow creased. “Who?”

“Lancelot’s horse,” the boy said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Lancelot shot Squirrel a grateful look, and Squirrel smiled in return.

A frown pulled at Merlin’s lips. “I can try, though it’s been . . . a while since I’ve done this.”

Satisfied, Squirrel reached down from his position atop Goliath and put his hand on Merlin’s forearm. Nimue was next, resting her hand on Merlin’s shoulder, and Lancelot followed her lead, burying his fear of losing his limb.

“Ready?” Merlin asked, looking to Nimue for confirmation.

Nimue glanced at Squirrel before meeting Lancelot’s eyes. The ex-Paladin gave her a subtle nod, to which she said, “Alright. We’re ready.”

Clouds gathered overhead and thunder rumbled, preceding a clap of thunder so electrifying it shook the ground beneath them. Fire shot straight through Lancelot’s veins, so much so that he thought he might burn up. He shut his eyes against the blinding light and opened them to find himself on a deserted beach.

The light died down; only sparks remained, zapping between the Fey as they separated.

“Is everyone alright?” Merlin asked, glancing around at the small group.

Squirrel’s eyes were wide and his hair was sticking up at odd angles, but a brilliant smile was stretched across his face. “That was insane!”

His lips quirked upward of their own accord as he helped the boy off of the horse. Squirrel had seen a lot for someone his age, but he still found ways to appreciate the little joys in life.

Lancelot was not a good person, but he wanted to be. If not for himself, then for Squirrel. He wanted to be someone the boy could look up to—someone like the Green Knight. He wanted to teach him how to properly hold a sword and how to appreciate the beauty around him.

Lancelot found his gaze straying to Nimue. She was discussing plans animatedly with Merlin, but Lancelot didn’t hear a word she said. He just . . . watched her, the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the way her nose scrunched up as she thought hard about something.

Yes, Lancelot wanted to teach Squirrel about the beautiful things in life, too.

“Nimue?” a voice called behind them.

Lancelot whipped around, swords already out of their sheaths as he positioned himself in front of Squirrel.

But instead of one of Cumber’s soldiers, a man with dark skin and wide eyes faced them, sword in hand. A sword that was quickly abandoned to the sand as he ran straight toward Nimue.

The Fey Queen met him halfway, a smile lighting up her face. Something inside Lancelot felt funny at the sight, but he couldn’t place what.

“Arthur,” Nimue murmured against the man as they hugged each other close. “I wasn’t sure when I would see you again.”

The man—Arthur—pressed Nimue impossibly closer. Lancelot felt like he was looking into a private moment, one not meant for his eyes. He resisted the urge to turn away.

“I thought I had lost you,” Arthur said. He stepped back from the embrace and looked Nimue over. His eyes narrowed in concern. “What happened? Your dress . . . it’s all torn.”

Nimue pressed a hand to her chest, to her side. Lancelot hadn’t paid much mind to the cuts in her dress, but now that Arthur had pointed them out, he stilled. Those weren’t just tears in the seams, as he had previously thought. No, those cuts were from arrows.

“I’ll explain everything later,” Nimue said. “I promise.”

Arthur nodded. He looked behind Nimue to Merlin, who he gave a terse nod to, and then to Squirrel, where a small smile touched his mouth. And then his gaze met Lancelot’s own, and the former Monk knew everything was about to go very, very wrong.

Arthur’s bright eyes and happy persona darkened immediately. His voice was low, dangerous as he spat, “What is he doing here?”

#visions are seldom all they seem (but i know you)#vasats #vasats fic #nimulot #nimulot fic #nimulot fanfiction #Nimue x lancelot #nimue x the weeping monk #cursed #cursed netflix #Lancelot and squirrel #Arthur x the red spear #Arthur x Guinevere #nimue #the weeping monk #squirrel #the-weeping-monk #the-weeping-monk writes

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meteorjam · 4 years

Text

Merlin Dragon Age!AU

I made a whole written out, in detail plot for this but here’s the pre TL:DR for anyone who just doesn’t want to read me describing it all. Though all their positions in this world are described in the text if you want more info.

Uther Pendragon: Knight Commander of the Knights Templar in the Free Marches Arthur Pendragon: Knight Captain of the Knights Templar in the Free Marches (leaves his position and ends up being the Inquistion’s Military Advisor when the Breach appears in the sky after the explosion at the conclave) Morgana Pendragon: Grew up in the Circle of Magi in the Free Marches and ran away when the Mage Rebellion began (comes back to help the Inquisition later and her and Arthur mend their broken relationship) Merlin: A powerful mage that is the bridge between the Fade (the world of spirits and darkspawn) and Thedas (the mortal plain). His destiny is to aid the Inqusition in closing the Breach and saving both worlds. Gwen: A Seeker in the Order of the Seekers of Truth meant to keep the Templars in check. She invokes the right to start an Inquisition after the Breach appears as she sees the Templar Order has become corrupt and can no longer work in the best interest of Thedas. Will: He’s literally the Inquisitor and doesn’t know why the hell the Maker chose him to have this glowing green thing on his arm that gives him the power to seal fade rifts but he’s seriously pissed off that the military advisor is a Templar. They’ve made him the leader of the Inquisition just because he happened to be at the Conclave at the explosion and was the only one to survive and gain weird fade powers? Ridiculous. He never wants to walk through the Fade again. He’s going to kick this Archdemon’s ass. It’s on sight.

Ok I put these under the cut because it was getting too long for the “short version.” Gaius: The Inquistion’s physician Daegel: A young mage who was recruited to join the Inquistion and reaaaalllllyyyy wants to study under Merlin The (Main) Knights: Fleshed out more in the text but they come from all over Thedas to train under Arthur to fight for the Inquistion. Out of the group, only Leon is a Templar.

Uther Pendragon is the Knight Commander of the Knights Templar (thought by many to be next in line to be Knight Vigilant, leader of the entire Templar order) in Starkhaven in the Free Marches. Templars are loyal to the Chantry (Thedas’ main religious organization) and they hunt abominations, apostate mages, and look over the Circles of Magi meant to keep mages in line. Uther’s views towards mages are ruthless and he is more often than not in favor of invoking the Right of Anullment (a practice that not only rids a person of their magic but all emotions) for mages that step even a bit out of turn.

Arthur Pendragon has recently become Knight Captain of the Knights Templar in Starkhaven and was taught from a young age that a mage’s magic was meant to serve the Chantry and the Divine (Head religious figure) and nothing else. But, as his father’s methods concerning mages become more cruel, Arthur begins to second guess if Uther’s ways are what’s best for the people of Starkhaven

Then the Chantry in Kirkwall (another city in the Free Marches) is blown up by an Apostate mage and the Mage Rebellion begins. Morgana Pendragon, Arthur’s sister who’s been, according too Uther, plauged with the burden of magic, runs away during this time. She had spent most of her life in Starkhaven’s opressive Circle of Magi. Arthur is apalled by the actions of Kirkwall’s Knight Commander (who used the power of a red lyrium idol to try and destroy those that went against her) and begins to rethink his loyalty to the Templar Order.

After months of brutal fighting between mages and templars, the Chantry organizes a meeting between the mages and the templars at the Conclave south in Fereldan near the Frostback Mountains. A huge explosion happens at the conclave killing all in attendance including several mage and templar leaders and the Divine herself. A giant veil between the mortal world and the Fade (the world of spirits) appears in the sky and it is known as the Breach. Smaller fade rifts begin to appear all over Thedas and spirits and darkspawn start plaguing the land.

It becomes clear to Gwen, one of the head Seekers in the order of the Seekers of Truth, that the Templars can no longer be trusted to protect Thedas and that, without the rule of the Divine, the land is weak. With the authority that comes with being a Seeker, a direct servant to the Divine, Gwen invokes the right to form an Inquisition to protect Thedas. Arthur catches wind of her plans and, having always respected the Seekers love for justice, pledges his help. He resigns from his position as Knight Captain in Starkhaven, much to the displeasure of his father, and moves south towards Haven (near the Frostback Mountains in Fereldan) to join th Inquistion.

The thing is, one person did survive the explosion at the conclave and he’s now their prime suspect. Will tries to tell him that he’s just a young man from a farm in Redcliff Village in the Hinterlands who was meant to bring provisions to the meeting at the conclave, but they won’t listen. After the explosion,Will was thrust into the Fade with the Divine and she sacrificed her life so that he could leave the Fade. He woke up in Haven with his arm suddenly glowing green in response to the Breach in the sky. He’s not a mage, never practiced magic. (To skip forward in the game, the green glowing thing is called an Anchor and it was meant to be used by the Archdemon responsible for the explosion to destroy the world and assume the postion of a God but Will touched the Anchor when the Archdemon had an altercation with the Divine and it became a part of him).

After Will proves his mark is useful at closing fade rifts and can even close the breach in the sky, he becomes the leader of the Inquisition upon their arrival in Skyhold (a stronger fort in the Frostback Mountains) after Haven gets destroyed when the Archdemon attacks with his dragon. Will hates being Inquisitor. He never wanted to be in charge. But this is bigger than what he wants. He just wishes he didn’t have to work with a bloody Templar. Him and Arthur do not get along. Will has always had a deep distrust towards Templars and towards the whole Chantry system. He regularly tells Arthur he wishes a Wayvern would just get it over with and swallow him whole already. Arthur is not amused.

Of course one of the most powerful mages in all of Thedas comes rolling into Skyhold because why not. Merlin has been a nomad for the past few years, aiding mages where he could and trying to help those effected by the recent Mage Rebellions. Turns out the man just... walks in the fade. He can’t actually close rifts like Will and can’t really do anything about the situation itself on such a large scale but he does just talk to spirits a lot to get their advice. Daegel, a young mage who had joined to help the Inquisiton, once asks him what his branch of magic specialization is, and Merlin just shrugs and responds “all I suppose.” Daegel never stops bothering him after that day because Merlin is insanely powerful and Daegel needs to learn from him. He just needs to.

Arthur is pissed off by Merlin’s connection to the Fade. It’s a dangerous place crawling with malicious spirits and darkspawn. He distrusts Merlin deeply in the beginning and is weary with how freely Merlin demonstrates his fade magic around others. Merlin assures him he only ever really talks to the good spirits. Somehow, that doesn’t ease Arthur’s worries.

Also, they find themselves on missions together all the time and Arthur just gets bullied by Will and Merlin who’ve become great friends. Also, Merlin is capable of blood magic but he hates using it. I imagine they encounter some situation involving the Deep Roads (roads under Thedas that were used for trade by the Dwarves but are now usually crawling with Darkspawn) where Merlin does have to use blood magic to get them past something and Arthur’s legitmately frightened for him because he’s seen mages get posessed while using blood magic before. Merlin just tells him to relax because “this spirit owes me a specific favor, he’s not actually capable of possessing me after I bound him last time” and Arthur’s just like “!!!! WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!!!!” He doesn’t use blood magic again after that around Arthur because the Templar looked like he was about to pass out. Merlin isn’t really fond of it anyway so its fine.

Morgana shows up at the Inquisiton at some point and Arthur is just shocked to see her. They really don’t know how to act around another because Morgana still thinks Arthur hates mages as much as Uther and Arthur thinks she can never forgive him for all the lies he belived, all the hurt he caused her. Morgana becomes a great spymaster for the Inquistion, having gained many connections in her time spent travelling.

Some of the strongest fighters in the Inquistion are Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Leon, Elyan, and Mordred. Leon grew up with Arthur in Starkhaven and followed him to Fereldan. Lancelot has always wanted to be a Templar but never got to join the order because he was busy taking care of his ill mother. It may have been a blessing in disguise because he begins to see the atrocities the Templars are responsible for and how some have even been corrupted and joined the Archdemon. He fights for the Inquistion tho because he sees it as a noble cause. Gwaine comes from Fereldan and has been looking for this type of adventure. He’s not exactly pleased he’s under the command of and surrounded by Templars, but he’s here for the journey and the found family.

Percival is from Kirkwall but had traveled south to Fereldan when his family was killed by Templars during the battle between Mages and Templars after the Chantry explosion. Elyan is also a Seeker along with his sister and trains under Arthur to hone his fighting abilities. He does help Gwen with organizational matters concerning the Inquistion. Mordred is one of the few mages who also chose to fight as a knight of the Inquisiton. Other mages opted usually to use just magic and trained on their own. Mordred wanted the advantage of both swordskill and magic so he works twice as hard as anyone in Skyhold. He really makes Arthur rethink some of the values he’s been raised with all his life.

Anyway that’s where I’m leaving it because I’ve spent an hour on this. Haven’t even gotten to who would be the Inquistions Ambassador. Or anything about Greywardens or who the Hero of Fereldan was or if Hawke is still just Hawke or if I replace the Champion of Kirkwall with another Merlin character. Might screw around and make a part 2 who knows.

#BBC Merlin #Merlin #Dragon Age #My HC #rip this long ass text but I'm making you see at least the first part of it #long post

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theroundbartable · 3 years

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Dragon Island (part 4)

Chapter 4: The unspoken sentence The boat followed the siren slowly. Leon's headache had lessened, but somehow, his urge to vomit grew even worse than before. The knight had the distinct feeling that it wasn't the siren's fault that he got paler and paler.

Not that Leon was worried much about his own well being. He wasn't scared of dying. Never was. What he was scared of was suffering. And he felt like destiny had decided he would have to suffer endlessly.The ship came to halt at an opening inside what looked like a mountain. This must be the cave that the expedition before them had found.

The opening was shallow and their boats were definitely too big to get through.“Sir Leon, what are your orders?”, Sir Elyan shouted from the steering wheel, while the rest of the crew made sure the ship would be bound to the shore safely.“Ready the side boats. Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan and I will explore the cave. The rest of you, stay here.

If we're not back before nightfall, you have permission to send help to Camelot.”Leon heaved himself up. Lancelot, who must have noticed his condition, helped him over deck and get inside the boat.Elyan and Gwaine followed soon after. They wore softer, more suitable clothes for the travel, but they had their chain mail close to them, just in case.

At this point, Freya's head popped up before them, causing Gwaine and Lancelot to jump. Elyan grabbed his sword. Neither of them had known they had been following her.“Don't attack her, she lead us here.”, Leon stopped them with a wave of his hand, which he sooner rather than later had to hold up in front of his mouth. Not that there was anything for him to puke out anymore. He must have lost a few pounds during the entire boat ride. The other three exchanged a look.Freya smiled. “There is nothing to be afraid of. We are all friends of Merlin.”, Freya smiled gratefully at Leon, who looked at her in surprise.

He hadn't expected her to talk to them. Let alone to mention Merlin as the reason for her help.“Merlin?”, Lancelot asked curiously and leaned over edge of their boat. “You know him?” “I knew that boy had it in him.”, Gwaine grinned and winked at her. Then suddenly he grew uncertain and his grin turned into a frown. “If you hurt him, I will murder you.”, he growled, while Leon rolled his eyes at Gwaine's indecision how to treat her. Elyan just watched them all. He stayed silent. He observed.“Don't worry. Merlin is safe. I would never hurt him. Arthur and Merlin are already on their way to Senvilla. It's a town on Drakonier. You must know that the entrance to the island is closed for non dragon kin. If you have their favor, the gate will let you pass.But beware, the villagers do not take lightly to Uther's men. I'm asking you, leave your weapons here, do not appear as a threat to them. Then they might listen to you.”“That seems like a trap.”, Elyan commented warily. What else was he supposed to think? Invading the enemy territory unarmed? That sounded like madness.“He is right. Why would we trust you?”, Gwaine agreed.Freya tilted her head with a smile. “That is not the question. The question is, why would I trust you? As you seek war with the dragons? The dragons are allies of mine. I have no intention to betray them. Helping you, endangers the peace we have.”, she said and she obviously had a point.Three of the men exchanged glances. Leon could barely move his head, so he only flickered his eyes to them.

“I owe Merlin. And I trust that you will help him achieve peace with the dragons.”, she finally said and held her head high. “Do not make me regret this.” She was about to leave, when Gwaine suddenly held her by the arm. Her eyes seemed to hiss at him, as he did.“And how exactly are we to get through, if we don't have the favor of dragon kin?”, Gwaine raised his eyebrows in suspicion, but let go of her, as he realized she wasn't attacking. Rather, appeared to be frightened by his action.“You have Sir Leon.”, she said as though that was an explanation. And with a splash, she dove down and disappeared once again.“Leon?”, Gwaine muttered in surprise, but in that very moment, Leon hissed and collapsed over the edge of the boat. The headache had returned and it felt like it was splitting his head open.“Urgh.”, Lancelot growled annoyed. “Let's get him off the boat. Look, we can go on land there.”, he said and pointed in the direction right in front of them.Elyan nodded and started to row faster into the glowing cave. You know this place. From here, you could not see the route outside, or the sky or anything. But everything glowed. It was the same place Arthur and Merlin had washed ashore.With a grunt, they heaved Leon off the boat to lay him on land. It should take about ten minutes for him to calm down and for his headache to leave. It had worked back in Camelot.But you know... it was not the sea that made Leon sick. In fact, Leon wasn't seasick at all.

His headache worsened, as soon as he touched the ground and the moment he started coughing, blood splattered on the sand. Leon barely managed to breathe as his friends tried to touch him. They panicked, uncertain what the hell they were supposed to do, when suddenly, a figure with glowing green eyes approached them.They looked up and suddenly, they all realized that something had changed. The blue glowing markings had rearranged themselves. And there, all over the cave walls, was a word, that even non dragon kin was able to read. In bloody letters, glowing painfully red, it read: TRAITOR!Leon stared at the creature that emerged from the dark. While the knights grabbed for their swords, the tiny dragon locked eyes with Sir Leon. “It's about time, Hector.”Leon frowned. “Who?”, he asked, but then he started coughing blood once more. A second later, his vision faded to black.

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Morgana and Gwen had rushed to get out of the throne room as fast as possible, as soon as Uther and Gaius left.Now they were standing inside of Morgana's chambers. (Dressed differently than before as it was late night outside.) George, the servant, stood at the wooden table inside Morgana's room, taking out scrolls and books that he must have gotten from the library.“Why are we asking George for help again?”, Morgana whispered the question in Gwen's ear. “Because he's Leon's friend and I trust that he knows more about this than anyone else.”George's eyes flickered up at them. He had heard them clearly, but pretended he didn't. “My lady, these are the records of the purge against the dragons. And the records of all noble families that aided in the war against them. I hope this satisfies you.”“Very. Thank you, George.”, Morgana smiled kindly at him, but other than most servants, George's expression wasn't saying anything. He just nodded politely. Observant as always.“May I ask you, George, what does it say about Sir Leon's family?” Of course, they could read it themselves, but if George was already here...George's eyes narrowed. But he obeyed, as he looked into the records. “Sir Leon's father, Sir Hector Gordon Ornwald was an immigrant. The records do not say where he's from. But it says he played a big role in the war against the dragon lord's.

It says here, that he aided the king with information against their kin and killed dozens of them by himself. He married lady Elena Ornwald and kept her last name. Which is unusual for a knight.... However, they had a son and named him Leon. After lady Elena's father who died in the war.Sir Hector died a couple years into the war as well.”, George blinked with confusion. He held the peace of paper closer to his face to make sure he read it correctly.“What is it?”, Morgana asked, not even surprised by a single sentence so far. “Sir Hector was marked as a traitor in these records. And burned at the stake for sorcery.”, George ended the story.Morgana and Gwen exchanged a look. “That makes no sense.”, Morgana shook her head. “If Leon's father was a traitor. Then the entire family should have fallen in disgrace. But Leon became first knight. This doesn't seem right.”, she shook her head.“Sir Leon must have been two years old, when Sir Hector was burned. Lady Elena was the one who accused him of sorcery. At least that's what it says here. I suppose the king spoke a pardon for her then.”, George offered as an explanation.“Actually … there is something else.”“Does it say how Sir Hector offered his aid in the war?” “No. Nothing.”, George shook his head and took a deep breath. “It only says lady Elena was pardoned.” He hesitated to say the rest, because... that other part was too cruel. And it didn't seem right. It didn't seem right at all. He picked up the other book about the war against the Drakonier.As soon as he opened the book however, George's expression startled once more. For someone so composed, it truly got Morgana's and Gwen's curiosity. “What is it?”, Morgana asked.George shook his head. “It's just....”, he said and read the part again. “This book says, all dragon kin are immortal. No mortal weapons have proven useful to kill them.”He looked at the two women, as Gwen vehemently shook her head. “How has Sir Hector managed to kill Dragon lords, if they can't be killed?”“Furthermore...”, George looked up again, all hints of his usually held back personality gone all of a sudden. “Why is Sir Leon.... ”, he shoved the records towards Morgana who stared at them with absolute confusion. “... still alive? There, black ink on white pergament, was written a death sentence for a certain Leon Ornwald at the age of two. For being an associate of the known sorcerer Sir Hector Gordon Ornwald, he was to be burned at the pyre. The sentence, if the records were to be believed, had been executed accordingly.

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*Flashback*

There was a small island. Not far from the land were Camelot's kingdom blossomed in the early years of Uther's reign.

The island did not belong to Camelot. It was an independent island full of dragons, dragon lords and dragon kin. The latter meant the families of the dragon lords. Second and third sons (and so on) as well as daughters and wives and cousins, all of who were born without the ability to control or hatch dragons. They were simply called the dragon kin, as they were also creatures of magic. There was no edge to that title, as they were still more powerful than normal humans.Not every dragon lord had magic though. And not every dragon kin had magic. But there was a high chance that they did.But of course, the title of the dragon lord's made them noble by default. After watching Arthur's first interaction with the serving population, you may have an idea of how they treat those with lesser powers.Their island was at war with Uther Pendragon, who was already dead set on getting the world rid of dragon's, dragon lords and their kin. To the immortal population of Drakonier, however, it was a painful concern that their kind was actually threatened by this powerless man. Their lords died during these battles. Only the dragon's seemed to survive. And so far, nobody knew why or how their lords were harmed in the first place. As you see, even the lowest of their kin was supposed to be immortal.

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A young man with blond locks and a slightly familiar face, ran down the woods made of palm trees. In his hand, he held a small dragon. His green scales may seem familiar to you, as you have already gotten to know Ciril. The dragon in the boys arm is him. It is clear that he is weak, they way he lays limp in his arms. Not hurt, per se. Just exhausted beyond compare. His breathing is shallow and it's obvious that he's sick, the way his scales are falling off his body, leaving a small tray of color behind them.The man, maybe still a boy, ran with panting breaths. He stumbled over rocks and trees and his knee is already split open and bloody as he fought his way through the bushes and branches.They werer followed by boys within his age range. Two of them were sitting on dragons, much bigger than Ciril. Much more fearsome. One other sat behind one of them. He didn't have the power to control dragons, but he was the oldest son of a dragon lord. Which means, the chances were high that he would unleash his powers someday. Should his father die in battle. The other two have already lost their fathers. Any maybe they should be pitied, because they lost them, but the way they acted is not to be excused by that.They growl in the tongue of the dragons. And the dragons they sat on shake their heads, trying not to listen to their orders, but they followed the blond one anyway. Not that the dragons in question had a choice.The hunt came to an abrupt end, as the blond man fell over another branch and rolled down a hill. Right into another man who sat beside a river, fishing. There, on the other side of the river, you could see another familiar figure lying there, sleeping. It is Kilgharrah. He was free and he was happy and content with where he was. Because this is home.The two boys scrambled to their feet and the blond one was about to run again, when the other boy, whose face now came clearly into view, spotted the hunters. The boy looked familiar as well. But it's hard to tell who it was. He had black hair and blue eyes. But his face was round and youthful.“Ugh... again?”, he muttered and his voice sounded a little familiar in it's annoyance.“Caleb, Alex, Sentiell, can't you go bother someone else?”, The boy shouted. But the ones in the air just came to a halt and laughed. “Oh look who's here guys, it's the chance kid.”, they rolled their eyes. They were looking down on both of then. In their position, as well as their expressions.“Shut up and leave, before I tell Kilgharrah to take care of you.”, The black haired one crossed his arms. His sleeves were up and there were tattoos visible. Many many tattoos of dragon's graced his arms and even his neck.The boys on the dragon's frowned disappointed but also worried. As they looked at Kilgharrah and compared his size with their own dragon's. It was clear, why neither of them dared to pick a fight with him. “Come guys, we'll get him tomorrow.”, they said and turned their dragons around to leave. Barely, you could see Kilgharrah grin. Pleased at Balinor's actions.Finally, you can make out the blond boy's face. He looks younger, more nervous and more fierce and definitely a lot more chaotic than what we're used to, but he is the splitting image of Sir Leon.“Hector, are you alright?”, Balinor asked and hissed as he spotted Hector's bloody knee that was already starting to get an infection. “I'm fine.”, Hector replied as he walked over to the river and sat down, to stop shaking Ciril in his arms.“But Ciril isn't.”, he added and put him on his lap.“Are they hurt?”, Balinor asked and sat down beside him. Then he rolled up the leg of Hector's trouser and starts to clean the wound. It looks practiced, the way he started to clean it with plants that grow beside the river. They've done this before. Some of the scars on Hector's arms and legs are proof of that.“Mostly exhausted. They've ordered him to pick fights with chicken again.”, Hector mumbled and comfortingly stroked her tiny scales. Balinor frowned. “Monsters.”, he commented and it was obvious that he didn't mean the chicken.“They are worse than that.”, Hector growled. “They don't deserve their powers. All dragon lords are the same. They all use their abilities to make dragon's suffer. Because it's easy. Isn't it? They don't even see what they are doing. They're treating them like horses and dogs and even less than that.”, Hector growled with a hatred in his voice that makes Balinor pause.“I might be a dragon lord.”, he said quietly. It was almost a question. “And my father was one.”, he added, but went back to cleaning the wound. He was used to Hector's negativity. And his hatred. And Balinor was the only person who knew why Hector was acting this way. And he understood that. That's why he didn't take it personally.“No you're not. Your father may have been a dragon lord, but you're not the oldest son.”, Hector shook his head. “And your father was just as much of a bastard as these guys. SO... don't vouch for him. You're better than that, Bal.”Balinor sighed. “My father is still alive, you know? No need to talk in past tense already. Also, my mother lost an unborn child. Nobody knows whether or not they were a son or a daughter. So it's unclear, if I will be a dragon lord or not. I could be one for all we know.”“I bet with you it was a son. You are better than them. Don't get on their level, Balinor. They're all assholes. You're lucky Kilgharrah only listens to family members. Or else they would have made him bite your head off.”“Not all dragon lord's are like them.”, Balinor muttered defensively, but Hector scoffed. “They're all the same. They're the scum of the earth. They don't deserve the immortality they use to torture other they think below them.

And we're all taught to treat them like nobility. Noble is who acts noble. Not because you're born with more powers than anyone else.”Balinor sighed once more, then he took Ciril out of Hector's lap to give him water from the river to drink. Ciril barely managed to open his mouth, but he does eventually and when he drank, he fell asleep almost a few seconds later. Without uttering a word, Kilgarrah lifts a palm over the river and Balinor carefully lays him into it. Kilgarrah flares his nostrils at the smaller dragon and a wave of magic passed over Ciril, before he reeled his paw in and protectively shielded the smaller dragon with it. The dragon's breath was a healing sort of breath. The same that Kilgharrah would use later to heal Merlin from the serket sting.“Maybe I should phrase that differently.”, Balinor took a deep breath and turned to face Hector. Hector's face is covered in bruises as well. “Not all dragon lords are like your brother and father.”Hector scoffed again, but he contained himself. “No. They're just the worst of them all.”“Did he hit you again?”, Balinor asked and put a comforting hand on Hector's shoulder. Hector looked down. “He still blames me for our fathers death. Just because I told him that a true dragon lord would defend our dragons and would fight that bastard of a king.” Hector's anger suddenly melts away and he grins amused. He laughed even, as he ran a hand over a particularly old scar. It looked like the bite of a dragon. “I mean, he's not wrong. It IS my fault.”Balinor's hand slipped away as he took in the expression. The expression that spoke of malice and anger and revenge. Successful revenge. Hector looked proud, satisfied. Not regretful. “What are you talking about?”, Balinor asked. Because he knew his friend and he knew something was off. Hector wasn't the type who blamed himself for anything and he didn't seem like he did anyway. “It's not your fault he died. He went to defend his country. That's not your fault!”, Balinor tried to comfort him. Hoped that he was wrong and there was unreasonable regret in that voice, but Hector's smile widened into a grin.“No. That part is not my fault. I just send that coward to do his job. But... There is a reason why he lost his immortality, you know.”, Hector's giggled at the thought.Balinor stood up, and backed away slowly. There should be no way that Hector would know why dragon lord's had lost their immortality. Or how. This didn't sound right. It didn't sound like Hector. “What did you do -”

There had been rumors that Uther Pendragon had found a way to kill immortals. That he had developed weapons that could kill their kind. But the way Hector spoke, Balinor got a very bad feeling about this.Hector laughed and even Kilgharrah looked uncomfortable where he witnessed their interaction. “No. Uther is merely a fool, Bal. It's my fathers own fault really. You know how I don't heal as fast as I was supposed to? Since, you know, I should be immortal too? Like all dragon kin? I'm not. Not anymore. And that's his doing.”, he looked angered again, as he balled his fist.Balinor nodded slowly, but also slightly scared.“Yeah, I figured, that that started the day my father made Kendris bite me. It's funny, you know? Dragons cannot kill Dragon lords on their own will. But their venom can take away our immortality and our healing abilities. I just.... slipped some of it in my father's last drink before he left. I didn't think it would actually work.” Hector's eyes glistened with mirth as he barked out a laugh. “My stupid brother made the same mistake.”Balinor started to pant with disbelieve. “Why would you -”; he said and shook his head. “Hector, you wouldn't-”Hector stood up as well now, ignoring the injury on his knee.“You think they are the only one's I did this to? ALL dragon lords should share this fate. They're getting too powerful. Uther may be a horrible king, but at least he understands what powerful monsters these dragon lords are. He's helping me. They torture dragon's for all eternity. This shouldn't be their always! You understand that, right? You'll help me right?”“Hector. My father is sick. You didn't -”Hector laughed. “Of course I did.”, he looked mad, the way his grin broke into full on laughter and he got even closer to Balinor. “Don't worry, you're safe from me, Bal. I made sure of it. As long as you stay my friend. Now, what do you say? Will you help me get rid of these pests to safe the dragons?”

*Flashback ends*

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One of the funniest thing, I – as the author – observed about Arthur's feelings, is that the prince was still uncertain if Merlin understood all he had said.It may sound ridiculous, but Arthur was still unsure, if he had shown his affections for Merlin clear enough. After all, Merlin had not yet responded to the love confession that Merlin WAS aware of. So, Arthur ridiculously concluded, he hadn't been obvious enough. After his talk with Gwaine, Arthur assumed that the level of which he expressed his affections, was still below Merlin's.In a way, he was right, as he stood up that morning, completely on edge as to how Merlin would talk to him from now on. But the morning had, once again, painted over the mysterious effect the night had on the human heart and cured Arthur's overly emotional behavior. Merlin as well, seemed normal at first. He insulted Arthur, Arthur insulted back and their entire dynamic went back to normal. Or so it seemed.Arthur didn't know what he had done wrong, but he was certain he must have done SOMETHING wrong.

It was like nothing at all had changed. Well... actually, that wasn't true at all. Because Merlin was still nervous around him. The jokes were the same, but since the magic confession, it didn't seem like Merlin was quite done with hiding.Despite the fact that Arthur had accepted him, he had used no magic in front of him. He had talked nothing about his past and Arthur felt like Merlin was still scared about something. Still worried.He didn't really look at Arthur. Even if he faced him, his eyes betrayed him and Arthur felt strangely avoided.“Merlin, you don't seem alright.”Maybe it would have been wise to ask, if Merlin was alright first. But Arthur already knew the answer. Plus - that the man in question would lie to him about it.It was morning was still young and Ciril had come to wake them, so they would head of in the direction of Senvilla. To meet with the dragon kin and maybe a few other dragons. Arthur didn't trust the dragon at all. Because well.... she seemed rather suspicious, with how unsuspicious she appeared to be.Now she was just flying ahead of them and not bothering to listen to their conversation.“I'm fine.”, Merlin replied, as Arthur had expected. “I know, you're not, Merlin. There is no point in denying it. I understand that you're still … unsure about what you told me yesterday, but -”“That's not it.”, Merlin shook his head with a slight smile. But his tense shoulders betrayed him. “You don't understand. That's not all I've been hiding.”, Merlin finally looked at him with desperation. “I want to tell you more.... everything.” Merlin took a deep breath.

“I just don't know where to start.”“Merlin, it's fine. It's a lot. Take your time.”, Arthur put a hand on Merlin's shoulder as they made their way through the forest that wasn't quite a forest.Merlin huffed a small laugh. He almost snorted, actually. “Oh well. You have no idea.”Somehow, that stung again. Because Merlin was averting his eyes once more. And Arthur felt how his hand lost the grip on Merlin's shoulder. For the first time, actually not for the first time Arthur could remember, it was Merlin who was completely closed off. The last time he had been like this, he had been sulking for three days and Arthur still wasn't sure what it had been about.

It was like when Arthur opened that wall around him, Merlin couldn't bear it and pulled his own up instead. A much bigger and much more massive force than what Arthur had protected himself with.And that, right after sharing such a huge secret with him. Had Arthur not reacted correctly? Had he done something to make Merlin afraid of him? Had he come on too strong? Or not strong enough? Arthur didn't know what it was to be the comforting friend. He didn't know what he was supposed to do. And he felt like he was loosing Merlin little by little, if he let things continue this way.So Arthur did what he always did. Something that Merlin was used to and that Merlin knew how to deal with. Because running after someone wasn't Arthur's fortune. (He always ended up in traps or drowning or something.) Arthur was the prince of Camelot. All he really knew, was how to give orders.And of course, there was an annoyed edge to his grumble. A roll of his eyes. Of course he bumped Merlin in the shoulder, because the guy was getting too emotional.

Arthur was shit at these things. But it seemed to clear Merlin's head and remind him where they were and who he was talking to.Merlin actually protested with an “ow”, as Arthur's elbow made him stumble into the next palm tree. “What was that for?” Had Arthur gone too far? For a second, Arthur feared for the worst, but then he saw that faint grin on Merlin's face that he always wore when he thought Arthur being an ignorant prat. Which he was. Because that was what he was best at. So, Arthur didn't answer, he just grinned at Merlin and walked ahead. Pretending not to care that Merlin had to follow up.“Hey, wait for me.”“You're holding us up, Merlin. Just hurry up already.”And there it was finished. Arthur's secret method to deal with situations he had no clue how to deal with. It worked every time. At least, Merlin was laughing once more.

Mission accomplished. --------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------- First<< Previous < Masterlist > Next

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