tyrseward

[tyrseward]

He finds Lancelot quickly and by pure luck. Rather, he runs around a corner and slams into the heavily distracted knight. Merlin, mercifully, manages to clutch at the wall and remain upright. Lancelot, on the other hand, falls out flat on his back.

“I’m so sorry,” Merlin gasps as he scrambles forward to help Lancelot back onto his feet. The knight takes his hand and rises unsteadily, blinking dazedly. “I’m so sorry, are you alright?”

“Fine, fine,” Lancelot says, still blinking. “Thank you.”

Merlin pauses, brows furrowing. “For running you over?”

“Hm?” Lancelot shakes his head, and the daze seems to clear. Mostly. “For helping me up.”

A pause.

“Where were you going, anyway? You’re running as though the castle was on fire.” Another pause. “It’s not, is it?”

“The castle’s fine,” Merlin says, taking Lancelot’s hand again and turning back toward Gaius’ chambers. “I was looking for you, actually! I have something to show you.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Lancelot sighs, but gives in easily as he is dragged along. “You concern me greatly, my friend.”

“I know,” Merlin replies.

When the pair reaches the physician’s chambers, they are blessedly empty, and Merlin drops Lancelot’s hand to clasp his own together, bouncing on his heels and grinning wildly.

“It’s in my room,” he says, then adds, at Lancelot’s wary glance at his door, “it’s nothing bad. Mostly. Probably.”

Lancelot stares at Merlin for a few long moments, long enough that Merlin can’t help but shuffle from one foot to another.

“It’s nothing bad.”

“I’m sure.” He sighs, shutting his eyes for a moment, then reopens them with the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Well, let’s see, then.”

Merlin hesitates, mind conjuring far too many scenarios of Aithusa having caused irreparable damage during his time absent. He glances Lancelot up and down, taking note of the persistent exhaustion that drags at him despite the past couple days without duties.

“Maybe this isn’t the right time,” Merlin says. “Are you feeling well? You don’t look it.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Lancelot replies. “Truly, your compliments are unmatched.”

It’s Merlin’s turn to stare at Lancelot, and he uses every ounce of disapproving physician that’s been trained into him to back it up.

“I am fine, I swear it. Simply tired, is all.” Lancelot gestures to the stairs. “Shall we?”

“Fine.” Though he doubts Lancelot’s assurances, Merlin does want him to re-meet the little not-dragon hidden away. It might even bring a true smile to his face, after the fussing over sanity and safety of keeping a definitely-not-a-magical-creature in the heart of Camelot.

Lancelot trails behind him as he makes his way to his room, and he hesitates once more at the door. More visions of carnage flash across his mind and he suppresses a shudder before carefully pushing the door open.

The room is messy, but only as much so as he’d left it.

He glances from side to side, then up and down. Not a thing out of place.

“Um,” he starts. “Hello?”

“Hello?” Lancelot echoes behind him, hushed.

Merlin doesn’t get a chance to respond to him. Scuffling of claws against the floor announces the presence of a little beast, and suddenly a bleary eyed pup is scrambling out from beneath his bed to greet him.

“Ah!” He bends down to greet her, relief pouring through him. “Woke you up, huh?”

The pup leans against him, content to grumble in complaint while also accepting his petting her back and side. She watches idly as Lancelot stares at her from behind him, brows furrowed and deep in thought.

“That is not a dog,” Lancelot finally settles on. “What am I looking at, Merlin?”

Merlin offers up a grin, but it comes out more as a grimace. There’s no denying it. Lancelot knows, he’s sure, what he’s looking at. Standing at the edge of the realization, denying it in hopes that he may be wrong.

“Lancelot,” he says, and scoops the little beast into his arms as he straightens up. “I’d like you to meet Aithusa. A completely normal, not-at-all-magical pup who was gifted to me in thanks for… something. I’m still working on that part. Here.”

And he promptly dumps the not-a-dragon, just-a-pup into Lancelot’s arms.

Lancelot catches the pup with ease, staring down at her with wide eyes.

“Merlin,” he says, voice strained. “Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“We are in Camelot.”

“Alright?”

Lancelot wheezes.

Merlin leans forward, concerned, but the knight tosses his head back, face to the ceiling for a moment.

“What happened? I thought the Great Dragon was looking after her?” Lancelot asks, eventually. When he can bring himself to look at Merlin again. “What changed?”

After a moment of quiet shuffling and fiddling with his sleeves, Merlin shrugs. “Aithusa kept trying to follow me. Kilgharrah told me she was my problem, and this is the only way I could think of to let her stay.”

When Lancelot doesn’t respond, Merlin keeps speaking. The words tumble out as he watches Aithusa watch Lancelot watch her.

“How could I turn her away? She’s just a little thing! Harmless!”

Visions of dragon fire burning innocents alive are brought violently to the forefront of his mind, consequences of the Great Dragon’s rage. He shakes them off with a visible shudder, and shrugs off Lancelot’s concerned look.

“She’s just a baby,” he continues. “And… and I’ll hardly get to see her, if she’s with Kilgharrah, anyway. It’s gotta be important, surely, to bond with the dragon I called out of its egg, right?”

Still no answer. He glances around the room, then back to Lancelot. His focus narrows to the little beast, and where Lancelot’s arm has curled around her to rub at her stomach.

Aithusa’s squeaky yawn breaks the silence, summoning a pair of quiet laughs and, blessedly, a smile to Lancelot’s face.

It’s small and still so, so tired, but it’s there. Merlin feels his own lips tugging up at the corners at the sight of it.

“How does this work, then?” Lancelot asks, finally. He meets Merlin’s eyes, hand still steadily soothing Aithusa back to sleep in his arms. “This is an illusion, isn’t it? Will it keep up to scrutiny?”

“Well,” Merlin says, “what do you think? If you didn’t know what she was, what would you think of her?”

Silence settles over them again, but it doesn’t press down on his shoulders, doesn’t overwhelm him. It’s comfortable, and Merlin breathes easier as he watches Lancelot. The knight looks back down, his hands running through the fuzzy white-grey fur and gaze focused intently on the little beast’s body, examining her for any fault, any tiny detail that breaks the illusion.

“She’s a pup,” Lancelot decides. “You have outdone yourself, Merlin. I cannot see a single hint that she is not how she seems.”

He looks up, at Merlin, with awe in his eyes.

It’s not entirely unfamiliar. It’s the same look he gave when he watched Merlin use magic for the first time after the griffin, and it’s the same look he gave when Merlin lost himself in a story from when he was young, and it’s the same look he gave when accompanying Merlin on a trip to gather herbs, listening to Merlin list off the herbs they passed and their uses. It’s the same look he gets with alarming frequency, and Merlin glances away as something warm and itchy curls in his chest.

“Good,” he says, something vaguely a grin flashing across his face before settling into something smaller, something tired but content. “Considering how much sleep I lost over it, last night, I’m glad it worked.”

“You should rest, then,” Lancelot tells him, gently scolding, and Merlin scoffs.

“You first,” he says. Then, after a pause, “I’m serious. You look ready to fall over. I bet I could even take you in a sword fight, right now.”

“I’m fine, Merlin. Stop fussing over me, you have a child to fuss over, now.”

“I can very well fuss over both of you, I’ll have you know.”

Sometime later finds Lancelot sprawled onto Merlin’s bed, mouth agape as he snores quietly. Merlin hates that even the man’s snores are endearing.

But what is even more endearing is the pup curled on his chest, paws twitching as she’s caught in a dream.

The combined image of the pair causes Merlin’s throat to tighten as some unnamed emotion grips him. He lingers for a moment longer, soaking in the peaceful little scene, then quietly makes his way out of the room, leaving the two to their well earned rest.

#tyrseward writes #series: misadventures of raising a dragon #there's a thought or two happening here

[tyrseward]

merlin wakes abruptly to a voice echoing through his mind, calling his name. he lays in bed a moment longer, chasing the distant presence, the strained call, until it repeats itself.

'merlin.'

he knows the voice, of course. knows it as well as he knows his own.

'kilgharrah?' he returns, as he stares blankly at the ceiling. 'what is it? is everything alright?'

is aithusa alright? the question lingers, unasked but understood.

'yes,' the great dragon says. 'but it will not be if the young one continues their valiant attempts to follow you home.'

merlin pushes himself out of bed slowly, not sure what he's meant to do with this information but sure he will not find further rest tonight. he debates the advantages of changing out of his sleep clothes, then readily dismisses them in favor of shoving his boots on and quietly making his way out of the physician's chambers. half a thought is spared to nab his jacket as he passes it.

'where are you?' he asks, though he already sets off to return to the dragon's clearing.

a pause, long enough that merlin slows to a halt in the middle of the hall, is all the response he gets. the dragon is still there, hovering at the edge of his senses. merlin prods at the presence, and receives a wave of irritation in return.

'i,' the great dragon says, 'am where i always am. the young one, however, has taken off toward camelot. i cannot follow them any further.'

merlin hears what is left unsaid clearly. they're your problem now.

that's alright, he thinks, though he presses the heels of his palms into his drooping eyes. when his hands fall back to his sides, a small, tired grin pulls at his lips. he can hardly protest more time spent with the tiny dragon.

#tyrseward writes #series: misadventures of raising a dragon #boo! i'm not as dead as i thought i was #have some clingy baby dragon #it's 4am

[tyrseward]

had a bit of dialogue pop into my head earlier & idk where or how but i am going to include this in stolen moments at some point i swear but - 

“Are you sure this will work?” Merlin asks, nerves making his voice waver as he toys with the edge of his sleeve. It’s not that he doubts her, it’s not that he questions her judgement on what she can or cannot handle but - 

“Don’t worry, love,” Freya answers. She throws a too-sharp grin back over her shoulder, irises outlined in gold. “Shapeshifting is sort of my thing.” 

#robin.txt #fic chatter #tyrseward writes #??? ig?? #fic: stolen moments #so so mad bcos i thought of this earlier & forgot & only remembered just now & i swear it was so much better when i first thought of it #this is just me piecing together what i can remember & it's not as good so ahhh frustrating #so i might not include this word for word but. the idea. will definitely be in one of the chapters when i can finally write that story again

[tyrseward]

this is what they look like -

- open mouthed grins, laughter spilling from their throats, eyes scrunched shut. lancelot’s arm hooked around merlin’s neck, merlin’s hand gripping the shoulder of lancelot’s shirt, fabric sweat-damp against skin. merlin’s tearstained cheek pressed against lancelot’s shoulder, lancelot’s head thrown back toward the stars -

- stumbling down the almost-empty streets with the pre-dawn sky at their backs

and this is what one would see, if they caught sight of the pair -

- two friends, holding onto each other as if they couldn’t bear to let go, as if their lives depend on it. desperation, in the way fists grab at cloth, in the way their bodies press against one another, trying to blur the lines between where one stops and the other begins. laughing too loud to prove they’re there, they’re real, they exist -

- and later, grins will morph into grimaces, wheezing laughter into gasps of pain. this is the life they live, unforgiving and dangerous but -

- but -

they have this moment. stumbling home, victorious. they are alive, and that is enough.

that is enough.

#haven't had any motivation or energy to write lately but #someone rbed this & reminded me of it #so here's a quick rb of my favorite little thing :)

[tyrseward]

this is what they look like -

- open mouthed grins, laughter spilling from their throats, eyes scrunched shut. lancelot’s arm hooked around merlin’s neck, merlin’s hand gripping the shoulder of lancelot’s shirt, fabric sweat-damp against skin. merlin’s tearstained cheek pressed against lancelot’s shoulder, lancelot’s head thrown back toward the stars -

- stumbling down the almost-empty streets with the pre-dawn sky at their backs

and this is what one would see, if they caught sight of the pair -

- two friends, holding onto each other as if they couldn’t bear to let go, as if their lives depend on it. desperation, in the way fists grab at cloth, in the way their bodies press against one another, trying to blur the lines between where one stops and the other begins. laughing too loud to prove they’re there, they’re real, they exist -

- and later, grins will morph into grimaces, wheezing laughter into gasps of pain. this is the life they live, unforgiving and dangerous but -

- but -

they have this moment. stumbling home, victorious. they are alive, and that is enough.

that is enough.

#quick self reblog #since i fixed a couple typos :o)

[tyrseward]

also on ao3 :)

this is what they look like -

- open mouthed grins, laughter spilling from their throats, eyes scrunched shut. lancelot’s arm hooked around merlin’s neck, merlin’s hand gripping the shoulder of lancelot’s shirt, fabric sweat-damp against skin. merlin’s tearstained cheek pressed against lancelot’s shoulder, lancelot’s head thrown back toward the stars -

- stumbling down the almost-empty streets with the pre-dawn sky at their backs

and this is what one would see, if they caught sight of the pair -

- two friends, holding onto each other as if they couldn’t bear to let go, as if their lives depend on it. desperation, in the way fists grab at cloth, in the way their bodies press against one another, trying to blur the lines between one stops and the other begins. laughing to loud to prove they’re there, they’re real, they exist -

- and later, grins will morph into grimaces, wheezing laughter into gasps of pain. this is the life they live, unforgiving and dangerous but -

- but -

they have this moment. stumbling home, victorious. they are alive, and that is enough.

that is enough.

#if anyone wants to leave kudos for the writer... validation pls :o) #/j /j #like it's not if ya wanna leave a kudos or a comment here or there i'd appreciate it ofc but #this one's a cozy one i wrote for me <3 #you lot just get the chance to see it too yknow?

[tyrseward]

this is what they look like -

- open mouthed grins, laughter spilling from their throats, eyes scrunched shut. lancelot's arm hooked around merlin's neck, merlin's hand gripping the shoulder of lancelot's shirt, fabric sweat-damp against skin. merlin's tearstained cheek pressed against lancelot's shoulder, lancelot's head thrown back toward the stars -

- stumbling down the almost-empty streets with the pre-dawn sky at their backs

and this is what one would see, if they caught sight of the pair -

- two friends, holding onto each other as if they couldn't bear to let go, as if their lives depend on it. desperation, in the way fists grab at cloth, in the way their bodies press against one another, trying to blur the lines between where one stops and the other begins. laughing too loud to prove they're there, they're real, they exist -

- and later, grins will morph into grimaces, wheezing laughter into gasps of pain. this is the life they live, unforgiving and dangerous but -

- but -

they have this moment. stumbling home, victorious. they are alive, and that is enough.

that is enough.

#tyrseward writes #bbc merlin #no i don't actually know don't ask <3 #but i like it

[tyrseward]

i’ve had this picture stuck in my head for?? maybe a week at this point? possibly longer. & i haven’t been able to draw it. & i haven’t liked anything i’ve written w merlin & lancelot all that much either. so tonight i went “well, what if i wrote the picture in my head instead of drawing it” & i???? have no idea if this... weird... not-fic thing is any good but. i like it. & that may be cos i’ve been working on it for uh?? 4 hours? somewhere around there. but the fact remains that i like it so i will share it anyway be gentle i’m two minutes from crashing <3

[continuously tries to write a scene, any scene, between merlin & lancelot] [thinks about the image of them i’ve had stuck in my head that exists only in my head] [frustrated writer noises] [frustrated artist noises] [tries to write a scene between merlin & la

#robin.txt #took a couple hour break there between writing most of it & writing the last bit to work on smth non-fic-related but still. #it was. interesting. to experiment a little bit. with writing a picture & not a scene yknow?

[tyrseward]

[continuously tries to write a scene, any scene, between merlin & lancelot] [thinks about the image of them i’ve had stuck in my head that exists only in my head] [frustrated writer noises] [frustrated artist noises] [tries to write a scene between merlin & la

#robin.txt

[tyrseward]

me, pausing to think about what i’m writing: yes, good, & then after this, lancelot goes to - 

me: 

me: oh i should definitely be writing from lancelot’s perspective, that would be so much better.

#robin.txt #it turns out my sweet spot for canon compliant fics is either post canon or in this case post s3 pre s4 where lancelot is alive #& things are actually good for once in merlin's time in camelot

[tyrseward]

so i am, actually, trying to do a bit of writing today & that led to me rereading the transcript of the scene in the coming of arthur (part 2) where arthur talks at the round table. & when i get to working on ideas, i get to thinking. yknow, normal thing. but rereading that scene, i had to pause on arthur’s “you don’t have a choice, merlin.” when everyone was going around choosing to stand with arthur & giving their little statements & whatnot. because i get that this was a funny haha line because obviously merlin’s just messing with him (”no, don’t really fancy it.”) but also?? merlin... doesn’t get a choice, in supporting arthur. it’s always framed as a “you have to help arthur” or “arthur needs you”. yea, sure, merlin chooses to save arthur time & time again. sure. but are you sure merlin “i’m not a monster am i?” emrys really ever viewed anything else as an actual choice. 

anyway, i’m not really saying anything that someone hasn’t said before, but i just had to pause there because it made me sad. because merlin gave his soul over to arthur for the possibility of being free & nothing came of it. 

#robin.txt #bro wait what was i even writing hold up oh no hold o #on* #o wait i got it we're good i started writing already the idea is written down aldsgkh

[tyrseward]

don’t ask about my username i don’t know either but i got fed up with my last line in the sand playlist bcos it didn’t fit anymore & i didn’t know what to keep & what not to so here we go again... line in the sand playlist 2: electric boogaloo 

if anyone has any song recs feel free to send them my way. only song on it rn is nothing more’s go to war.

#robin.txt #fic: line in the sand #i will. eventually. actually write smth & post it. eventually. but today is not that day folks. #the playlist cover photo is one i took btw i'm real pleased w how that one turned out #cosplay sword good for refs & playlist covers on top of feeling badass to carry around lmao

[tyrseward]

quick q, what’re yall’s opinions on fic moodboards. asking for me. because i’ve been debating sharing some of my fic moodboards here. & posting them here in the future. 

#robin.txt #vs posting them on my personal where no one will see them <3 #also it would help me be a bit more active here cos like #i'm not writing anything i wanna post but i'm still here. doing things. thinking about fics.

[tyrseward]

found an old fic i’d never posted. 284 words, all lowercase. takes place between seasons 2 &3.

a month ago, before the fall and reclaiming of camelot, lancelot would have said he knew merlin well, all things considered. even with only their few brief meetings, he thought the letters he exchanged with merlin gave him a fairly clear view of the other man. 

and he does know merlin. everything he thought he’d learned during his time traveling and writing letters is true. it’s simply that he’s never seen merlin on a daily basis prior to his knighting. 

here is what lancelot did not know - merlin has no survival instinct. none. lancelot is certain, at this rate, merlin’s lack of regard for his own safety will send lancelot to his grave. 

so it’s no surprise when he hears about an assassination attempt on the prince regent’s life, lancelot finds merlin limping back to gaius’ soon after. 

“where are you hurt?” lancelot asks before merlin can so much as say hello. 

instead of answering, merlin rolls his eyes. “it’s nothing serious.” 

then, he stumbles, and falls shoulder-first into the wall with a yelp. lancelot is at his side in an instant, steadying him. he keeps a hand on merlin’s arm and scans him for injuries. 

blood leaking through his jacket’s right shoulder, weight kept off his left foot, an arm cradling his ribs. lancelot sighs.

“you, my friend, need to learn how to take better care of yourself.” 

merlin scoffs. “i’m fine.” 

“of course,” lancelot replies, as he guides merlin the rest of the way to gaius’ chambers, supporting him when he stumbles. 

and though he obviously notices, merlin does not protest. quietly, he mutters, “thank you.” 

“of course,” lancelot says again.

#tyrseward writes #i just like to think that people underestimate merlin's lack of survival instinct & in the end they're just running after him like #ffs take care of yourself for two seconds #tho not that lance's much better lmao sir 'sacrifice myself while merlin's distracted'

[tyrseward]

looking through old fic notes/outlines is wild i find shit like "[Redacted] does x" & it's like? nice idea op but who the fuck is That. you know you don't have the memory to pull this shit & yet you do every time.

#robin.txt #what's up folks i'm not writing anythin worth posting recently but i'm writing which is an improvement

[tyrseward]

Merlin finds Gwaine, once the adrenaline has faded and they're all exhausted.

Another day, Gwaine might've made a comment about Merlin not being asleep, despite desperately needing it. But, well, kettle? Pot.

"You tried to hug me earlier, didn't you?" Merlin asks, before Gwaine has a chance to say a word.

He hums, shrugs. "Was glad to see you awake. Gave us quite the scare."

"Sorry," Merlin responds. Then, he opens his arms, an offer.

With a grin, Gwaine pulls Merlin into a hug, one arm around his ribs and the other around his neck. He buries his face in Merlin's shoulder and breathes, one slow breath after another.

"I'm glad you're alright," he says again.

"I am," Merlin responds. "I'm alright. Thank you."

For looking after me, for worrying about me, he does not say. He doesn't need to.

Gwaine grips Merlin tighter and nods.

#tyrseward writes #tonight's fic written in two minutes by a half-asleep tyrseward brought to you by writerofberk's bbcm rewatch giving me an Idea #set after uhh. another's sorrow in s5. #i haven't watched the ep in a while so if this contradicts it?? somehow??? eh whatever lmao #also i don't actually remember the phrase with the kettle & the pot so if i'm using it inaccurately? #no i'm not that's just how gwaine chooses to use it <3

[tyrseward]

added readmore to previous post

#robin.txt #:)