#< Hunith be like : well you see my son you and your stupid father have the habit to live in cave and behind maze only accessible to magic

[gd-dollopole]

IT IS A NEED AND HE WOULD BE SO ADORABLE😭 (have you ever read this?🥹The fic is sweet indeed and it made me melt in so many ways😭for so many things😭and it has Christmas so it has the right theme for the holidays😭)

GIVE THOSE EGGS!!! MAKE THOSE EGGS!!! HAVE SO MANY BABIES JUST FOR SCIENTIFICALLY PURPOSES ONLY—

You see how people have many look-alike in this world ? well what if Merlin find a Ygraine looks alike and think surely, surely, to means Arthur will be back so he starts to follow her life closely and hope but it’s all in vain because she is not Ygraine. She is just a look alike, the first of many, they don’t always have the same skin color, the same eyes, the same hair, the same voice, the same height but they have their face and their smile.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Home

Prompts: Omg ur twins series has given me the seratonin I didn’t know I needed ;-; love ur fics!!! can I request maybe a one shot where Merlin confronts hunith about his birth parents, and they have a wholesome talk about it? Also bonus points for Merlin coming to terms with the fact that uther is his father and Morgana is his half sister (everyone notices now that they share similar features) - anon

ahhhh i loved the second installment of the twin series, the ending makes me yearn for more no matter how much i reread it *prompt idea* brotherly love pleaseeee, you've built so much hype 😭 some overprotective arthur over his younger brother, maybe some asshole noble treating merlin like shit because he grew up peasant, a merlin-arthur talk about feelings and new revelations, merlin-morgana-arthur talk (maybe?) take as long as you want really, no pressure i know it'll be worth it but a bit longer third installment please 💘 - anon

I have a very simple request oh ruler of the angst town. You've been graciously filling the stomachs of the Sanders Sides fandom but the Merlin fandom requests one thing: More, please, oh good lord. Thank you - alittletoo-obsessed

SO MANY OF YOU WERE SCREAMING FOR A PART THREE SO HERE YOU GO

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, babes.

Pairings: it's found family hours

Word Count: 4574

The twins come home.

After a long, long time, the twins come home.

For Arthur, home is that empty space just over his shoulder, always there when he turns absentmindedly to talk to someone he never thought he’d see again. Home is someone to curl up with when the nights get cold and lonely, dark hair brushing under the tip of his nose as he wraps them in his arms. Home is someone else to see what’s happening, to stand as a silent vow of I’m here, I see you, I’m with you, I’ve got you.

For Merlin, home is someone who knows he’s not crazy, who catches him when he flies too high on the wings of his magic. Home is someone who wraps firm, solid arms around him, smelling of slightly spiced fruit and afternoon sun. Home is the space the magic curls about, searching for something to hold onto like an anchor as the world spins faster, faster, faster.

They leave the hall where Uther still sits, thunderstruck on his hollow throne, back to Arthur’s chambers. They don’t part when they get inside, stumbling across the room to the bed, somewhere they can sit and look and look at each other where there is no one else can see. Arthur reaches out to run his hand through Merlin’s hair.

“I always thought your hair would be dark,” he mumbles, losing himself in the way his fingers card through the strands. “Just had a feeling.”

“Mum’s hair was never dark enough to be mine.” Merlin closes his eyes as he feels Arthur’s hand go through it. “And—and Balinor, he—he wasn’t the right magic.”

Arthur’s hand stills. “Balinor was your father?”

“He was married to Hunith, he—but—“

Arthur’s arms are suddenly around him, warm and perfect and real and it feels like something else slots into place. Arthur’s breath warms the top of his head and Merlin feels his fingertips start to buzz.

“I’m sorry,” he realizes Arthur’s saying, “I didn’t—if I’d’ve known, I would’ve—“

They will come to find that they don’t need words. Merlin just buries his nose in the crook of Arthur’s neck and breathes in the smell of home.

“I kept the blanket I was taken in,” he mumbles, “and it smelled like this.”

“Like—like me?”

Merlin nods. “Fruit. Sunlight. Warm.”

“Warm doesn’t have a smell, Merlin.”

“Sure it does.”

“What does it smell like, then?”

“Warm! You don’t explain what apples smell like, they just smell like apple.”

“Sure you can, they smell tart, a little sweet, but it’s a thin smell, it’s not rich.”

“Where and why do you know how to describe smells so well?”

“Morgana went through an alchemy phase, dragged me into being her test subject.”

Merlin snorts, nuzzling deeper into Arthur’s warmth. “I imagine you reeked of an awful assortment of perfumes.”

“Oh, it was an excellent way to get out of court duty.”

They laugh together. Then Merlin quiets, burying his nose in the smell of home and willing his magic to help him come up with something.

“…it’s barely noticeable,” he says quietly, “but it’s…it’s there. It’s slightly, um, it smells a bit like old leather, or old wood, but it’s…it’s earthier.”

Arthur’s quiet for a moment, then Merlin feels his head turn and bury into Merlin’s hair.

“I always thought you’d be colder.” His arms tighten slightly, as if he can feel how Merlin’s magic is trying to pull him closer—and hey, maybe he can. “I—you used to get really strong on winter nights. I used to imagine that you’d—you’d be cold and it was my job to keep you warm and if you were warm, you’d—you’d stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Merlin says immediately, “I’ll stay.”

“You’d better.”

For Arthur, it’s finally seeing that figure sprinting ahead of him, goading him to chase faster and faster. It’s hearing about how cruel bullies were and sternly promising that if anyone ever tries anything like that again, he’ll kick their arse. It’s hearing a mumbles admission of crying while angry and promising that he’ll never judge Merlin for crying, not when he’s here to protect him.

For Merlin, it’s his magic finally having both of them to wrap its blanket around, someone else to hold him firmly when it can’t do the job itself. It’s hearing about how lonely life as a prince can be and vowing that he’s just going to sit next to Arthur and damn all the customs. It’s hearing about the cruelty of a king that didn’t know how to be a father first and muttering that Uther would see what the bloody hell he was doing wrong.

It’s home.

——————————————

News that Uther has another son spreads like a sickness in the castle. Servants whisper that the long-lost boy has returned, that the curse of the dead queen has lifted because her son is back, that finally, finally, Uther will stop the hell-path he’s wrought upon the kingdom.

Servants whisper that the nobles won’t like this. That they’re sick of having to put up with Arthur already, that if there’s another son, they’ll have another obstacle in their path.

Some nobles are clever.

They know that if Uther has a peasant son, he’ll have to make the boy a noble or denounce him completely. Or, and this is not a very likely option, he’ll have to accept that he has one royal son and one peasant son.

Some nobles aren’t clever.

They think that if Uther has another son, it doesn’t matter.

The nobles that know the knights know that they won’t be able to get within ten feet of Merlin. Many of them don’t want to. They’re not quite sure what position Merlin holds in court, but it’s not a manservant’s. They know that the boy who came to Camelot and managed to get the prince to shut up for once is a good one. Some of them hold the opinion that if Uther is what he made his son into, he might actually listen to the boy as well.

The nobles that don’t know the knights are stupid.

One such noble decides that it doesn’t matter whether or not the boy is of royal blood, the king hasn’t claimed him, and thus he is still a peasant.

He decides, in his infinite wisdom, to humiliate the boy by dousing him with wine for forgetting to thank him for giving him an order.

Merlin has been covered with wine before, this isn’t new to him. What is new is that he has a brother that takes great pleasure in dragging the unsuspecting noble to the front of the room and publicly shaming him.

“Have you so little sense of yourself that you must stoop to the humiliation of others for your own amusement? Perhaps if you spent more time thinking of what to do with your words you wouldn’t be so intimidated by the confidence of someone else. I would be surprised to learn if you had a mind since your only defense is to sling wine all over someone’s front. You are a disgrace to everything you proclaim to be and I would be ashamed of you if you were one of my men.”

It’s not the most direct way to banish someone and strip them of their place in court, but it is one of the more entertaining.

Of course, when a noble is demoted to a knight, he ends up at the mercy of the elder knights on the training field. It’s one of the only times Gwaine shows up promptly for a training session.

Merlin mumbles that Arthur didn’t have to do that, that he’s had worse, but later in the privacy of their rooms, Arthur says that he’s making up for the years where he wasn’t there.

“And it wasn’t just for you, it was for the knights too.”

“How noble.”

——————————————

It’s in the way Arthur still tries to turn into the tower corridor that first tips Merlin off. It’s the way his hands still twitch toward an old sword hanging on the wall. It’s the way he turns to his other side, not where Merlin always stands, expecting someone to be there. It’s the way he looks at the other side of Uther’s throne, expecting there to be another one.

It’s the way Merlin knows what feels like to miss another half of yourself.

“I want to find her,” he says quietly after a long day, “she’s your sister.”

Arthur pauses, fingers faltering on the edge of a cabinet. His head bows low.

“She is, Arthur,” Merlin says, standing, “and she’s mine too.”

“I know.”

“There’s still good in her, Arthur, I know there is.”

“I know.”

“I—“ Merlin swallows. “I’m to blame for what she’s become, I’m the one who poisoned her.”

“I’m the one who drove her away from the start,” Arthur says, a rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “I’m not blameless either.”

There’s a pause.

Arthur glances at Merlin. “There was a time when I thought you were her. That the—the person I was missing was her.”

“She’s magic too, it makes sense.”

Arthur nods, staring into space. “But she wasn’t you. Her—I guess I didn’t know it was magic, then, but her—her magic never felt right.”

He turns to take a hunting satchel down from the hook.

“Do you know how to find her?”

“Yes,” Merlin says, “but you’re not coming.”

“What?”

Merlin holds his hands up. “She’ll try to kill you, you know it. She won’t listen to you. Not at first.”

“And she won’t try to kill you? You poisoned her!”

“I have magic. She can’t beat me.”

“Merlin.”

“I’ll be safe!”

“When have you ever been safe in your life?”

“Like you’re in any position to judge!”

The bickering continues until Merlin grabs Arthur’s arm and tells him that he needs to do this. That it has to be him, only him, that he knows how to reach Morgana in a way that Arthur can’t.

Arthur lets him go with a strict promise to be back in a fortnight, no more.

Merlin knows how to find Morgana. Arthur’s connection to magic isn’t like his, but he is born of the stuff. And so is Morgana.

There’s a tingle in Merlin’s fingertips non-stop when he’s in Camelot, his magic tugging him towards Arthur and the magic in him. But Uther’s blood flows in both of their veins, so if he focuses, he can find Morgana.

His travels lead him to a forest home, modest and slight, but secure enough that he knows he can’t just walk in. There are half a dozen places where she could be hiding nearby, half a dozen more where traps could be. So he picks his way carefully through the undergrowth and knocks on her door.

He expects to be knocked out and strung up. He doesn’t expect her to raise an eyebrow and try and bind him with a curse.

He bats the curse away without trying to hide the way his eyes glow gold.

Morgana’s eyes widen and she stumbles back. He raises his hands and weathers the spitting, the curses—just cusses, this time—of his betrayal, how dare he, and apologizes.

“You were the vessel,” he says as his only defense, “I didn’t think there was any other way.”

“And what if you told me?” She draws herself up, looking every bit the queen she was born to be. “I could’ve helped! Perhaps I would’ve taken it of my own free will, you had no right to strip me of that choice.”

“I know. And I am sorry. For all of it. For not telling you, for trying to kill you, for—for everything.”

She evaluates him cooly. “Well, I suppose that’s that, then? You want me to accept your apology and toddle back to Camelot?”

And the thing is…he can see it now.

He and Arthur don’t share that many features, but he and Morgana…

It’s the angular jaw. The way the nose slopes slightly to the right instead of the left. The way one eye is a little bit longer than the other. The dark hair, wavy but not too wavy. The slender build, the sharp shoulders.

The way their magic curls about their fingertips before the spell is cast.

Morgana seems to notice him staring and frowns, snapping her fingers in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he manages, still marveling at how he never noticed, “sorry, I just…”

“Just…what?”

His magic thrums in his hands, telling him to let it go, reach out to their sister, help her see. He obeys, opening his hand and letting the magic swirl up, into the air. Morgana’s eyes widen and she takes a step back, preparing a defensive spell of her own only for her jaw to drop as her magic touches Merlin’s.

It doesn’t feel like coming home, not like finding Arthur did, but it feels like something.

“What…how is this possible?”

“I’m your brother,” Merlin whispers, peering through the lattice of magic, “I—you’re my sister.”

At the word ‘sister,’ something in Morgana’s magic flinches. Merlin frowns, peering closer, eyes widening when he notices a dark patch, almost as if the magic is bruised from being constrained. His own magic touches it carefully, recoiling in shock.

“What is that? Morgana, what happened to you?”

She rubs her wrist absent-mindedly, her face contorting into a scowl. “The last person to call me ‘sister.’”

Merlin’s eyes widen. Morgana retracts her magic, burying it deep inside herself and taking a deep breath. When she looks at Merlin again, she looks almost like the woman Merlin met in Camelot.

“So. That means Arthur’s your brother too.”

Merlin nods. “I was…we were born of the same magic.”

“And that makes Uther your father.”

Merlin's face contorts in rage and Morgana snorts.

“Yes, that was my reaction too.”

“Balinor was my father,” Merlin says firmly, curling his hands into fists, “Uther is not.”

“But you have his blood,” Morgana says quietly, not meaning to hurt, just to inform, “and you are bound to him. Just as I am.”

Now it is Merlin that has to look desperately at Morgana, hoping for it to be anything other than the truth.

“You can’t have Arthur without Uther, Merlin,” she murmurs, “you have to accept that. You can’t have Arthur without Camelot. You can’t have your brother without your father.”

“And what about my sister?”

Her smile is sad. “I had neither for a long time.”

“I just got my sister,” Merlin says firmly, ���I’m not letting her go again.”

“Oh, and that’s your decision, is it?”

Merlin blinks. “Um—well, I mean—if—if that’s okay with you—“

Her laugh is high, like pealing bells, and it makes him smile to hear it. “How you manage to switch between those two will always astound me. No wonder no one else ever figured out you had magic.”

“Excuse you, I did a perfectly good job at hiding my magic.”

“Gaius used to scream about it with the door open, Merlin, that’s not exactly subtle.”

“How is that my fault?”

She giggles and oh, is this what it’s like to have a sister?

Their laughter ends and Morgana crosses her arms, head bowed as she thinks. Merlin lets his magic flutter around the room, cleaning up, until she raises her head again.

“Do you think Uther can change?”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t know. But I do know we can change the minds of everyone else.”

“Starting with Arthur, I presume?”

“Arthur. The knights. Most of the council. The servants.”

“Got a plan for this, do you?”

“…not really good at plans.”

“Well, no, not if most of them involve poisoning sisters.”

“Hey!”

Morgana laughs again, then her smile softens and she rushes forward to wrap her arms around Merlin.

“Your magic feels warm,” she mumbles, “not like Morgause’s. Maybe I’ll enjoy being your sister.”

“And Arthur’s?”

“If he can pull his head out of his arse, we’ll see.” She lets him go and walks toward the front of the house.

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“To see if we can both pull his head out of his arse, it’s so big we’ll need the two of us.”

“Right now?”

“Unless you think I should wait?” There it is. The tiniest hint of vulnerability in the way her voice wobbles at the end.

A question of whether Morgana would actually be welcomed back into Camelot, a question of whether Arthur would want her back. A question of how true this fantasy really is.

Merlin straightens. “No,” he says firmly, “let’s just hope the two of us can do it together.”

——————————————

Arthur never thought he’d see his sister again.

But the instant Morgana walks into his chambers, looking as if she’d never left, she barely has time to open her mouth to deliver a snappy remark before he’s rushing across the room and wrapping her in a hug so fierce it makes Merlin laugh.

Morgana laughs at him with some incredibly clever quip but he isn’t listening. He’s too busy hugging his sister. Who’s finally home, who’s finally here.

“…oh, alright, you big softy,” she mumbles, wrapping her arms around him too, “there. Are you happy now?”

“‘Gana.”

“Yes, that’s me. Is your head alright? Merlin, what did you do to him?”

“He’s happy to see his sister, Morgana.”

She sighs dramatically. “Oh, don’t both of you go all sappy on me.”

Arthur just pulls her closer, burying his nose in her neck. “‘Gana.”

There’s a pause. Then: “Oh, Arthur, I missed you too.”

It’s too much. He sticks out his arm and grabs Merlin’s tunic, yanking him closer. Merlin makes a noise of surprise as Arthur bundles them both into the hug. Morgana makes a slightly affronted gesture as she makes room for the two of them, pulling her hair out of the way as Arthur buries his nose between their shoulders.

“I certainly don’t remember him being this clingy, are you sure this is the same Arthur?”

“His head’s certainly big enough.”

“Well, yes, but that’s not exactly the most reliable thing to go on. He’s always been utterly obnoxious.”

“Don’t have to tell me.”

And they’re bickering like siblings and it’s right and it feels right and their magic is here now and he can feel both of them and it’s warm and it makes his chest tingle and—and—

“Oh, oh dear,” he hears Morgana murmur, “Arthur, are you—are you crying?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, Arthur, it’s okay.”

“Come, let’s sit down, if you fall over you’ll take the two of us with you.”

“Just try and breathe, it’s okay, we’re not going anywhere.”

Arthur can’t bear to let them go. Not even for an instant. Morgana stays with him, her arms wound tightly around his neck, her fingers scratching lightly through his hair. Merlin sits at his back, his chest warm.

“Come now, you silly man,” Morgana says, trying to keep the tears out of her own voice, “there’s no use crying over this. No man is worth your tears, remember?”

“You’re not a man,” he mumbles, “you’re my sis’er.”

“He’s got a point.”

Morgana sighs. “Oh, Arthur…”

He registers how long’s been crying only when he feels his head start to ring from how stuffy his nose feels. He hooks his chin over Morgana’s shoulder.

“Go on.”

“What?”

“Go on,” he mumbles, “tease me. I know you want to.”

“…I’m not going to tease you, Arthur.”

“Really? All this material and you won’t?”

“Not today,” she murmurs, sounding a little hoarse herself, “not—not today.”

She holds him tighter.

“Not when I’ve just learned I have two brothers.”

He can live with that.

She does tease him later, when he says that he hasn’t missed her at all—a blatant lie, that, and they all know it—or that he’s always been a model of a knight. Of course, she doesn’t have to train with him alone, anymore, she has her pick of the knights. And Merlin.

Because Morgana has magic.

Merlin has magic. Is magic, if the stories are to be believed. And Morgana has always been a quick study.

So sometimes, Arthur will just…watch them. But it’s always that. Just watching.

Merlin is the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth. Morgana is a High Priestess of the Old Religion.

What is Arthur?

“You’re pouting, Princess.”

Arthur barely flinches as Gwaine plops down beside him. He does raise an eyebrow as he feels the rest of the knights sit down around him.

“I’m not pouting, Gwaine.”

“Sure you are.” He flicks Arthur’s arm. “You’re pouting.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Arthur sighs. “And what is it you think I’m pouting over?”

“The fact that you now have to share Merlin with Morgana.”

“That’s not—“

“You’re bright red, Princess, you know I’m right.”

“Enough.”

Lancelot lays a hand on Gwaine’s arm. Gwaine hushes. Percival glances around to make sure there aren’t any other knights near and nods.

“What’s troubling you,” Lancelot asks quietly, “and how can we help?”

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” Elyan sits up a little more. “There’s always something we can do.”

“Not with this,” Arthur mumbles, still watching the two magic users train, “not with this.”

Leon follows his gaze. “Impressive, aren’t they?”

“Mhm.”

“Do you wish you had magic too?”

Damn you, Leon. Damn you.

“…no.”

Leon chuckles softly. “Come now, sire, no need to lie to us.”

“I just—“ Arthur sighs, scrubbing his face with his hands. “It’s fine.”

Leon lays a hand on his shoulder.

“…they’re both…incredible—don’t tell them I said that,” Arthur says sharply.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Gwaine lies.

Arthur sighs again. “I just…I know I was born of magic, but…”

“You don’t have any,” Leon guesses, “not like they do.”

He shakes his head.

“Eh, you don’t need it,” Gwaine says, leaning up against Arthur’s side, “you’re plenty fine without it.”

Arthur’s head whips around to stare at him in shock. Gwaine raises an eyebrow.

“What? You are.”

“Since when do you give me compliments?”

Gwaine shrugs. “’S not about compliments, it’s about the truth. You’re able to do a shit load of things perfectly fine on your own, you don’t need to have magic for it.”

“He’s right, sire,” Lancelot adds, “your skills are a testament to you, not to whatever magic brought you into this world.”

“I’d follow you with or without magic.” Percival stands tall. “Just so happens you don’t have it. Doesn’t make a difference to me.”

“You’re our commander,” Elyan agrees, “that’s that.”

Leon’s hand on his shoulder rubs soft circles, brushing away his protests. He’s not sure if he believes them entirely, not just yet, but maybe…

Maybe one day he will. After all, he thinks with a smile, he’s got some people to help him with that.

He never thought he’d see his sister again.

——————————————

“Mum?”

Hunith turns around and smiles.

“Merlin, come here.”

Merlin rushes forward, wrapping his arms around her in a warm hug.

“Why didn’t you send word you were coming,” she scolds gently, “I would’ve gotten everything ready.”

“I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well, I am surprised. Sit, sit, tell me everything.”

Her son sits, idly toying with his hands. She frowns.

“What’s the matter?”

“I, um…I have a question for you.”

“What is it?”

“Where…where am I from?”

Oh.

Oh.

Hunith smiles and tells him the story. Tells him of how Balinor arrived one night, a little babe clutched in his arms. How he told her how the queen had two children, one that had to be kept safe away from Camelot. How his magic had reached out to her once she held him, wrapped around them as he fell asleep against her breast.

Merlin listens, tears in his eyes, as she tells him that she loved him from the moment she saw him, that he would always have a home here.

“You’re my mum,” he mumbles, wiping away tears, “and I—you’re always gonna be my mum.”

“Oh, Merlin, come here—“

She holds her son in her arms and thanks the magic of the world that gave him to her.

——————————————

Uther responds about as well as you’d expect.

As in, not at all.

At least, not until he realizes that there are three children who are about to make sure he does what he promised Ygraine he would, and if he doesn’t, they’ll do it for him.

He tries to deny having another son, one that was raised as a peasant, no less, only for Arthur to stand up in court and publicly acknowledge Merlin as his brother.

He tries to deny that Morgana is his daughter, only for Morgana to stand tall and proud by Arthur’s side as they declare their intent to rule as brother and sister.

He tries to deny that not one but two of his children have magic, only for Arthur to open talks with the druids by using his brother and sister with magic as ambassadors.

He tries.

He fails.

He wants to think that he still has his loyal knights, but Gwaine and Percival decide that they’re Merlin’s bodyguards, and Leon and Lancelot won’t leave Arthur’s side. Morgana doesn’t need her own bodyguards, but Elyan and Gwen are never far from her.

He wants to think he still has the support of the Council, but Gaius had stood and given a speech about being so happy to see Ygraine’s children home again and his words had been frozen before he could say anything.

He wants to think he’s still the king. But everyone is starting to look to Arthur, to Morgana, not to him.

Once, and only once, he considers getting rid of the boy.

When he wakes from a terrible nightmare of drowned children, burned houses, and Ygraine’s immortal disappointment, he doesn’t think of it again.

Uther isn’t dragged kicking and screaming from his throne, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t many who’d love to if he gave them the opportunity.

He’s not worth lingering on.

[emrysarthurpendragon]

Running out of time

Merlin woke with a start and looked around, collecting his memories. Oh. Right. He moved chambers a couple of weeks ago, when they came back from Morgana’s fortress and his friends now know he has magic. They were all supportive and, thank to them, his demons had been quiet since then. But today, he felt something was amiss. Rubbing his eyes, Merlin threw his legs outside his bed and perambulate in the room. Think. Think. Think. There must be something. He never woke in the middle of the night for no reasons.

 Emrys. Emrys, I’m scared…

The voice echoed in his mind; it belonged to a child. A little one he could feel through his magic. Like a string connecting their bodies and souls. If he moved closer to his window, the bond straightened. The closer he gets to the door, the weaker it became. He had to go. Go find that person, that child, whoever it was. Alas, when he opened the door, there stood Arthur and his bright smile. Lately, the new king kept surprising him and of course, today was one of these days. Yes, you read well. New king. Uther passed not long after they came back; murdered by Agravaine.

“Are you ready, Merlin?” he asked, almost as excited as a kid. The warlock just pictured a mini-Arthur jumping up and down.

“Do I have a choice?” the boy asked, faking hope.

“Nope. It’s your birth right and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“I hate you,” Merlin mumbled, making his friend laugh.

“No, you don’t,” Arthur answered, pressing his lips against Merlin’s. The warlock felt his resolutions melt away when Arthur pulled him closer, at least until a servant walked past them and snickered at the sight of the two men. Their cheeks flustered, they closed the door and hurried together to the main hall. Before they could step in, where people were already gathering for the big event and gossiping about Merlin, Arthur pulled him into another room. The area was empty exception for a chair and clothing hanging over them. Confused at first, Merlin felt his boyfriend’s hands push him and helping him out his usual attire. Especially his neckerchief. “What the…”

“You can’t attend knighting ceremony like this.”

“Why not?”

“I’m the King, you obey, or I’ll punish you,” Arthur purred, sliding his hands under the warlock’s shirt. Merlin shivered under the soft touch.

“Prove it,” Merlin laughed, hoping to avoid the knighting by doing so.

“Maybe later. If we are too long, Gwaine’s going to come here and all Camelot would have a graphic depiction of our bodies.” Arthur explained, quickly adding in an ushered tone: “You’re mine, I don’t want them knowing how beautiful you are.”

“Prat.”

Arthur laughed when he noticed the redness over Merlin’s face and he helped him with his new, clearly expensive, furniture. Hunith came all the way from Ealdor and the king wanted to see Merlin’s face when he would see her among the many faces. From now on, his soon-to-be mother-in-law would stay here, in Camelot and Arthur gave her a room across her son’s. Now fully dressed, Merlin faced Arthur; the blond gasped. Instead of his usual rags, Merlin stood there, wearing a blue shirt and black pants. Arthur ordered new boots too and… Merlin looked regal.

“One more thing,” Arthur said, taking a small package from the table. “Open it, please.”

Curious, Merlin ripped open the parcel and froze. It couldn’t be … was it … memories from a specific winter came back in his mind and he knew Arthur remembered too. The day he travelled to collect the knights and Gwen’s cloaks. With gentle hands, Merlin unfolded the piece of furniture and smile. The inside was made of fur, to protect its owner from the cold. The outside was bright red with Camelot’s lion embroidered on it. Arthur carefully wrapped it over Merlin small frame and smile, happy with the result.

“Perfect. Now, follow me. It’s time for you to join us.”

 Nodding his agreement, Merlin followed Arthur. They walked hand in hand and reached the huge door separating them from the others. They were taking baby steps in the change of Camelot. First, Merlin’s ceremony. Then, the ban of magic. One thing at a time. Arthur walked into the room first and all murmurs stopped. Merlin started counting in his head. One. Two. Three … eight…

 Emrys. Emrys, save me, please… Mum… Dad…

 Merlin jumped, darting around for something or someone in need. He stood alone in the corridor and shook that feeling. Still, he wanted nothing more than run and find the voice. What was he supposed to do? Walk in the room, following today’s plans and all … or leave without a second glance to find the kid?

“Arthur is going to kill me,” Merlin thought, still pondering with his two options. “It’s just a matter of minutes, I’ll go after.”

 Emrys please, it hurts!

 Merlin bit his lips, walking one step after another. Arthur stood there; a smile plastered on his face. Their friends all waited front raw with equally bright expressions.

 He saw a dark room, without windows. Water dripped from the walls and fell on several bodies. Prisoners were huddles together in one cell, except for one. In a cell, a person with dirty blond hair hanged limply. Her wrists had been chained to the roof, placing her in a painful posture. These were not ordinary cuffs though, as he noticed magic-repels runes on them.

 His heart fastened and he kneeled on the steps facing the king. Wait … was it his mother, standing next to Gaius? Oh, Lord! She came! With his body tensed, Merlin repeated the same promise to the people of Camelot. Like all the red knights did before and will do after him. He swore servitude and protection to all, rich or poor, strong, or weak. Inside, Merlin silently added ‘magic or not’ and knew Arthur followed his thoughts. They smiled at each other’s and the King took his sword, touching Merlin’s shoulders with it. When the former manservant stood again, he was no longer Clumsy Merlin but Sir Merlin, son of Lord Balinor, king of the lost kingdom of Avalon. Or was it lost? Merlin had a feeling that they may find it again.

 Emrys, find me, please…

 The world started spinning. The new lord had to focus on staying up but he spotted Arthur’s eyes. The King noticed his sudden change and worried. They had to thank all their friends, Merlin hugged his mum with a bright smile splattered on his face, but they still made their way out the throne’s room. Just when he was ready to explain, he felt the connection shut. Just like this. Had the child died? Merlin felt panic rose in him. He should have gone and find her, follow her track to wherever she was held captive.

“Merlin? Merlin, what’s wrong?” Arthur asked, blue eyes searching him for any injures or whatsoever. Did he mention how protective the king was lately? From behind them, Gwaine exited the room and eyed them curiously. He too noticed their strange behaviours.

“Merlin? Princess? What’s wrong?”

Arthur barely rolled his eyes at the nickname.

“I don’t know yet. Merlin?”

“I … not here. It’s about my uh … thing.”

“Your penis?” Gwaine asked, making Merlin blushed when servants walked past them, shaking with laughter either because of the comment, or the young lord sudden redness. “Kidding. Hey, relax Merlin, it’s just a joke…”

“Mother…” Merlin squealed, mortified. Yes. His mother walked behind the knight when he formulated his stupid comment. Still, Hunith just giggled and ruffled his black hair.

“I’m so proud of you, Merlin. Your father would be too, I know it. Before you were born, he often talked of the life he wants for his kids, if he ever had some. A good life and faithful friends. That’s all, and you have it all.”

“He told you, about his inheritance? His lineage?”

“All the time, but shall we talk in my rooms? It’s about your … thing.”

 Merlin nodded after sending a death glare toward Gwaine. He had to keep an eye on both him and his mother. He feared what Hunith may tell his friends if they had a chance. One word about his ‘pants’ allergy’ and he would never hear the end of it. All Camelot would know about two-year-old Merlin running with his wee shaft flapping around, in the paths of Ealdor. He started wearing proper clothing at age seven, after a cold so powerful he almost died. Knights, King, Hunith and Gwen all walked to the woman’s room and sat randomly on the floor, chair or the bed. Merlin talked first, since his visions were far more important than whatever his mother could share about his father’s past. Balinor was dead, this could wait. The child may still be alive. So he told them everything. The voice he had heard in the middle of the night and every now and then before and during the ceremony. He shared his vision, the cell where people were held captive and a child restrained with anti-magic chains. Not like the ones in Camelot’s vault, no. More powerful.

“These are dangerous. I only heard glimpse of what they do. No normal users could use their powers with these on but … she had to, when she contacted me. She’s strong. Probably born with the gift.”

Leon paled when he heard the warlock, that did not go unnoticed.

“What is it?” asked the king, his attention turned to his oldest friend.

“How old was she?”

“Can’t tell for sure. Maybe three or four.” Merlin said, frowning. “Why?”

“I knew someone from Camelot, their child was born with magic and they hid her the best they could. It helped me see the law had some flaws,” he said, his eyes fighting back tears. “Two years ago, their village had been raided and their girl died. Killed by those people.”

“Their or your child?” Merlin asked, remembering something. When Leon’s wife had been pregnant, the young woman went to her family’s house and stayed with them for the last six months. One day, Leon had left after he was handed a letter from his better half and no one seen him but when he came again, he was even jumpier whenever someone mentioned magic. They all thought nothing of it, until that day. With Yseult close to term, the knight took some days off and rode back alone to Camelot. Questions were asked since they all thought the family would travel together but he told them about his baby’s health. She’d been sick, fragile as glass, and their physician insisted on keeping her close to the ocean. For a couple of years at least. Merlin’s eyes widened. He remembered a wild, brand new, magic once upon a time. Like the one he felt this morning. Could it be? No. Leon child was like … 6? 7? Still, Leon sudden nervousness spoke for him. Silence fell upon their small group, all knights processing what they just learned. Leon had a magic child. And she died or was taken by mercenaries. If taught by the wrong people, she may become the biggest threat Camelot ever face. No. She probably died and now, another child waited for them.

“I’m sorry for your loss, really. But we don’t have time. Someone else is looking for their girl and we need to find her. Wherever she is,” Merlin said, feeling awful for brushing away his friend’s sadness like this. “If we don’t help, her magic can… I don’t know. But you don’t want to find out.”

“Ok; everyone got ready. We leave in two hours sharp.”

 * * *

 While servants readied their horses and supplies, Merlin stayed in his room and focused. He closes his eyes, searching for the girl magic. He thought the bond broken, but it was here. Weak but pulsing like a small heart. Through it, the warlock felt all her current emotions. Fear. Hurt. Sadness. Mix feelings and betrayal. Someone promised her protection and now, she was locked up and scared. He focused on the string between their souls and found her location. No. Not really, but the path they need to follow if they were to find her. Just like hours prior, depending on where he was heading, Merlin felt the bond grow stronger or weaker. With Arthur riding beside him, on his left, and Lancelot at his right, Merlin led the way and focused on his magic. He followed the invisible trail. For hours, they barely spoke. Night fell, they set up camp and shared stories about their previous adventures. About how they met but also, how Merlin with his new rank. They teased Merlin too, with his romance with Arthur. Gwaine, for instance, kept saying his new life happened because he had been ‘really nice’ with the King; resulting in a sudden scream when the blond kicked his friend.

“Merlin’s not like this. Show some respect.”

“Ouch. Unfair! I was just kidding!” Gwaine whined, rubbing his sore leg.

“Leave it, Arthur. No harm done,” Merlin murmured, sending an apologetic glare to his best friend. With Lancelot. “We’re just messing together.”

“Joking about your virtue is fun?” asked Arthur, clearly confused. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s why I do the thinking. You know nothing, Pendragon,” Merlin laughed, howling as Arthur tackled him to the floor. They struggled together, encouraged by the knights’ cheers. Merlin rolled on top of his king, gently kissing his nose.

 Emrys? Emrys, are you with daddy?

 Merlin stopped, eyes wide open and paler than usual. Through the child eyes, he saw a memory. A blurry face of a man with curly, blond hair. A man with a vaguely familiar voice. The thing was the girl’s memories were fading. She was forgetting her family.

 “Merlin.”

“Shh!”

 Focus, Emrys. I’m not far. Please. I wanna go home.

 Merlin’s eyes burned gold. It felt like someone took control of his body. Someone with secret knowledge. He was seeing more. More than what mortal eyes were supposed to witness. Here it appeared for the first time. The golden trail between the trees, over hills and across the water. This reminded him of a myth, a legend. Long ago, a woman named Ariana got lost in a labyrinth and created a magic cord. The bond united her soul to his lover’s and that way, she found her way out the trap set by a creature of magic. Ariana, queen of her folks, was brave and gave her life for the kingdom. The deal was: if she somehow got out the maze, she’ll live, and her people would be safe. Anyway, King Minos lied and created a terrible creature with only one purpose: kill the young, mundane queen. The Goddesses and Gods, shook by such courage, sent magic knowledge to the Queen. Hecate helps her and, for ages after, protect her pupil’s family. No one ever managed to conjure Ariana’s lead since then. Until now. Was the child a descendant? Naturally gift? Behind him, Merlin heard voices calling his name, but the bond was stronger. He saw then, in a distance, a glowing light. He knew the world was pitch black but far away, in maybe two days ride, a building called for him. For them. Elyan stopped beside him and, as they all gathered, Merlin whispered:

 “I know where she’s locked.”

I’m coming, kid. Don’t worry, he added mentally.

 They waited the night before moving forward. They escaped Morgana using teleportation and with a specific location, they now could do the same thing to find their prey. No. Not prey. Worst word choice ever.

“Just know I can’t take the horses with us. I have powers, but not that much,” warned Merlin after they packed the next day. “Grab your weapons, anything you think essential for our mission, and whatever’s left stay here.”

It took them another couple minutes, enough to let Merlin prepare his spell. Last time, he acted out of instinct, fearing for their lives but now … he had to do the same on purpose. Of course, with his luck, things went slightly off topic. He appeared near the ruins but alone. He was alone and, judging by the signals, with a handful of mercenaries and prisoners inside the old building.

 Following his courage, instinct or whatever, Merlin walked inside with his magic ready. He hoped the others weren’t so far. He needed their help, he noticed, when a man attacked him from behind, alerting all the others.

 They fought hard. Sword against sword. Magic finding its way and killing offenders. Called it miracle or mere luck, Merlin stumbled into the dungeons and felt nauseous. A dozen people were huddled in the first cell, most of them magic if he were right, and they opened wide eyes at his sight.

“Emrys…” whispered a man, placing thin hands on the cold bars. “I can’t believe it. You’re…”

“Don’t mind us. Save her, please…” another voice asked. A woman directing him to the second cell. “The thing they’d done… We can’t help her… We tried, but our magics are too weak.”

Merlin nodded, breaking the lock before hurrying to the girl. She was all alone. Her body smells a mix of death, tears, lack of proper hygiene. When her body fell – once Merlin used a spell to break her chains – the warlock caught her with ease. He laid her on the floor, studying her wrists and ankles. Irons were still there, controlling her magic. These runes belonged to another age. When Emrys legend first appeared. When a person, scared to the core, sold its soul to a greater devil to control the children of pure magic. Those who were born from the Source. These were made for him. His powers shy away when he touched the metal. It burned his skin, as much as it did to the girl. Her skin showed how strong she had been. He could almost see her bones where the burns were too important. These prove all the times her magic managed to escape the manacles. All the moments she called for help, even if it meant more pain.

“I’ll free you. I’m here. I’m so sorry…” Merlin whispered, his golden eyes burning again and the metallic noise of the shackles disturbing the almost quietness of the room. Once he freed them, most prisoners escaped. All exception for the man who reached for him when he entered. “You’re safe now. We’ll take you out.”

He didn’t know if he was heard, but he suddenly realised how stupid of him it had been to take off the bonds now. Like water behind a dam, the child’s magic had been suddenly freed. In his arms, he saw – behind dirty blond hair – two golden pearl stared at him. He heard a frightened scream and the walls started shaking.

“My King, we must go!” yelled the man that waited for him. Merlin wanted to protest, claim that he was no king, but decided against it. They needed to hurry out before all the place collapse on them. “Give me the girl!”

Feeling a sudden protective urge, Merlin shook his head and held the little thing against him. As they ran, he chanted various spells. He tried to calm her but couldn’t. Years of restrained magic flooded outside her body. Like a river, a storm locked away for too long. On their way out, Merlin sprained his ankles and swore. It hurts. Still she clung to him and screamed in his mind. She was begging for help and he carried on. She won’t die here. Not now. Not when he finally saved her.

 Emrys. I can’t breathe!

“I know, darling. I know. Listen to my heart.”

 A criminal ran past them, trying to escape. His neck snapped and he fell to the ground, dead. He had not done that. He had to make the girl focus on something else, or she may kill an innocent.

“Tell me your name, ok sweetie?”

Gaia. Papa’s a knight. Where’s papa?

“I don’t know yet. I’ll help you find him. I’ll protect you.”

I’m a monster…

 Merlin froze. Where did this come from? Before he asked, images flooded his mind. Gaia had killed before. Accidents whenever the mercenaries came to her. From the night she’d been captured. From that woman who came to her, acting all nice until she realised Gaia was just … too pure. Too good-hearted to become evil. Morgana. Morgana hurt a child. She was lost for humanity then. The one she used to be helped people.

 “You’re not. You are an amazing little girl; your parents love you.”

No. No. No. Bad. Bad. I’m sorry.

 They never reached the tower’s entrance. The construction collapsed. Merlin held the younger warlock against his chest, protecting her with his own body. Pain filled him. Silence fell. Darkness surrounded them.

 * * *

 Elyan barely stopped Arthur when the building collapsed in front of them. They helped the prisoners and killed mercenaries. Some people were healing each other’s with magic’s help or plants.

“Merlin!”

No. It couldn’t be. Arthur shook his head in disbelief, leaving his friend’s grasp. He had to find him. Find them. Merlin was not allowed to die. He gave an order!

[acearchivist359]

Sword in the Stone (But with Magic and Merthur)

I had a conversation with @smolfighttol​ (literally months ago but uk how writing is) as to what would have happened if Merlin revealed his magic to Arthur during Sword in the Stone, then of course I had to write it.

I also posted it on ao3 if people prefer that

     Arthur awoke surrounded by trees and utterly confused. Looking down at himself, he found he no longer wore his armour but tattered and ill-fitting clothes. He thought back, his memories jumbled, and found he couldn’t remember how he had arrived in this position. He remembered Morgana attacking Camelot and stood in a panic. He grabbed his sword from where it was stuck in the ground next to him. His fighters instincts were reeling as he looked around, recognizing no one, until his eyes finally settled on Merlin’s sleeping form. He rushed over and kicked Merlin awake anxiously.

     Merlin awoke to the feeling of someone kicking him. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Merlin.” Arthur said lowly, attempting to be discreet. Merlin stared at him blankly, assuming the spell shouldn’t have worn off yet. Arthur began kicking him again, “Fine. Then I'll just carry on kicking you.”

     “Arthur,” Merlin said scrambling to his feet. He inspected Arthur’s face and found no traces of the simpleton that had accompanied him the last few days. He breathed a sigh of relief, “You're back!”  

     “What do you mean “I’m back”?” Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously, but he found as usual that he was vaguely concerned as he teased Merlin, “You’re talking gibberish again.”

     “Listen to me, please,” Merlin pleaded, exasperated. Arthur looked at him with concern as he continued, but Merlin was too caught up in his explanation to notice.  “Camelot is lost. You were injured in an attack, you passed out. I had to get you out of there.”

     “Where are we now?” Arthur asked, calmly taking in his surroundings more.

     “We’re heading north,” Merlin explained, “To a safe haven, to Ealdor. Hopefully the knights will meet us there.” Merlin's voice softened a touch at the mention of his former home and Arthur almost smiled before realizing he had no idea of the situation they were in.

     “Who are these people?” He asked, finally.

     “They’re, er… smugglers,” Merlin said, sheepishly.

     “Smugglers?!” Arthur exclaimed. Merlin shushed him quickly, looking around anxiously. “Alright, let's assume for one moment, you actually know what you’re doing,” Arthur said, quieter this time. “It doesn't explain why I look like the village idiot.”

     “It’s the perfect disguise,” Merlin smiled, proudly, “No one would ever suspect you of being, you know… who you are.” He shrugged, innocently. 

     Arthur looked down at his clothes again, “I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m not going around looking like this.”

      “You have to,” Merlin insisted, “You've got to stay in character.”

      “You!” Someone called. Arthur stiffened again, his posture having relaxed as he spoke to Merlin. Merlin seemed to remain impassive as the smuggler spoke to him. “We leave as soon as the horses are watered.” The smuggler looked at Arthur, who was standing at Merlin’s side, “Explain it to the simpleton, would you?” The smuggler turned away and Arthur looked at Merlin, who smiled sheepishly before picking up Arthur’s sword. They started toward the smuggler's wagon and Arthur grabbed his sword back, defensively. There was no way he was going to unarmed and surrounded by smugglers. “Simpleton,” the smuggler, Tristan, called.

     “He’s talking to you,” Merlin whispered, knowing Arthur was about to put up a fight.

     “I don’t answer to that name.” Arthur argued, sharply.  How disrespectful, he thought.

     “In character,” Merlin reminded him. Arthur huffed. “Remember?”

     The smuggler approached them looking at Arthur’s sword. “Impressive piece.”

     Arthur glanced at Merlin, who looked at him pointedly. “Thank you, sir,” Arthur said putting on a stupid voice. 

     “May I?” Tristan asked. Arthur handed over his sword, reluctantly. He hoped Merlin knew what he was doing with these smugglers. “Magnificent. The only place you find workmanship of this quality is in the royal forge of Camelot,” Tristan levelled the blade at Arthur’s throat. “Tell me, how did you come by it?”

     “I won it in a card game.” Merlin interjected, “Gave it to him as a present. He won't be parted from it,” Arthur was almost impressed at how smoothly Merlin lied to the smugglers . “Makes him feel safe.” 

     “I hope for your sake that’s true,” Tristan handed Arthur his sword back. Arthur took it dumbly, grumbling inwardly, pretending he didn’t know how to hold a sword. “I’d hate to think I was riding with a knight of Camelot.”

     Arthur hugged his sword to his chest and put on a stupid voice again, “Aye.”

     The blond woman at Tristan’s side giggled, “Knight of Camelot?” She scoffed, “Look at him.” Arthur was fuming on the inside, he was the King, their King! 

     “You’re right,” Tristan remarked, “The knights may be stupid, but they’re not that stupid.” Arthur wanted to protest but reminded himself of what would most likely happen to him and Merlin if they knew who he was, so he put on a stupid grin. Merlin ruffled Arthur’s hair, laughing along with Tristan and Isolde. He knew how hard it must be for Arthur to hear how people spoke of him and the knights.

     “Pack your things, simpleton!” Merlin exclaimed loudly as they walked away. 

     “Call me that again and I’ll run you through.” Arthur muttered quietly to Merlin, fake smile plastered to his face. They both knew how empty the threat was, but neither commented on it.

     “Don’t worry, sire,” Merlin said sympathetically. He knew Arthur well enough to know Arthur would be upset by what the smugglers said. “I’m sure you won’t have to keep it up for too much longer.”

     “How long?!” Arthur exclaimed, exasperated. As he said that a smuggler walking by them collapsed, an arrow lodged in his back. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s shirt, instinctively, pulling him away from where the smuggler had stood. Another arrow landed in the tree next to Arthur’s head and he ducked, moving Merlin with him. Merlin didn’t have time to dwell on how he himself touched by the gesture as they ran to hide behind the smugglers wagon. Arthur started calling out orders. ‘Finally,’ he thought, ‘Now this I can handle.’ 

     That night, Merlin and Arthur sat by the fire as Tristan and Isolde slept nearby. “You knew,” Arthur said finally, “You knew Agravaine was betraying me.” He thought back to the times Merlin had tried to warn him and felt guilty for not believing him. He had wanted to trust his uncle so badly. He was his only remaining family that, he thought, didn’t want to kill him for the throne, but Merlin had been right. He should have known there was no one he could trust more than Merlin. 

     “I couldn’t be sure,” Merlin said softly. He hated that he had been right. “But then, I did have my suspicions.” 

     “I feel like such a fool.” Arthur sighed, “I put such trust in him. All this time I was as blind to his treachery as Morgana.”

     “You were deceived Arthur,” he knew as he spoke that statement wouldn’t make Arthur feel any better but he didn’t know what else to do. “That could happen to anyone.”

     “Yet it keeps happening to me.” Arthur argued defeatedly, “I cared about these people. I… I don’t understand. What have I done wrong? Why do they hate me?”

     Merlin knew Arthur wasn’t just talking about Morgana and Agravaine as he spoke and felt a twinge of pain at that fact. He thought back to watching Arthur and Gwen’s relationship grow and while he had tried to help them in the beginning, he had grown to be rather confusingly jealous and hurt by the end. He knew he no longer had feelings for Guinevere, that small crush had ended long before she had begun a relationship with Arthur. However he thought he couldn’t possibly have feelings for Arthur.

     “No they don’t hate you.” Merlin said reassuringly, “They just… crave your power for themselves.”

     “Perhaps,” Arthur shrugged, “Would they still want that power if I was the king my people deserve? Maybe Tristan is right-“

     Merlin cut Arthur off swiftly, “Tristan was angry...” Merlin hesitated, glancing at Tristan and Isolde. He felt a pang of longing watching the two of them, “and afraid. He needed someone to blame, but it’s not you that’s to blame.” He shook his head, certainly.

     Arthur felt uncertain but Merlin’s assurance eased him slightly. “You seem very sure about all this.” He worried he may seem weak for questioning this, his father certainly wouldn’t have, but in that moment Arthur simply wanted his friend’s advice. He knew, no matter what, that Merlin would tell him what he needed to do.

     “All I know is that, for your many faults, you are honest and brave and true hearted,” Merlin paused slightly, weighing the idea of letting Arthur in on the destiny they shared, but ultimately deciding, “and one day you will be the greatest king this land has ever known.”

     What felt like the weight of the world lifted from Arthur’s shoulders. He smiled softly, “Well… good to know I have the support of my servant at least.”

     “I’m not alone,” Merlin said firmly, “Believe me.” He was glad to see Arthur smiling again, he felt as though it had been ages.

     Merlin could not have been more relieved to finally arrive in Ealdor the next day. He had left Arthur, reluctantly, in bed inside his house to reunite privately with Guinevere. He had pointedly ignored the pang of jealousy that he felt while shutting the door.

     “How’s she been?” Merlin asked his mother finally. For all his confusing jealousy, Merlin had spent a lot of time worrying about Gwen since she left Camelot. Though their friendship was not what it had once been, Merlin still cared for her very much.

     “As well as can be expected,” Hunith answered softly, she too had grown fond of Gwen in the time she had spent in Ealdor. “But… a broken heart takes time to mend.” And if Hunith took note of the sad, knowing look on her son’s face, she didn’t say a word.

      Merlin feels as though he’d been doused in cold water when he hears screams from within the village. “Agravaine.” He tells Hunith, rushing inside, “He’s found us.”

     “Any suggestions?” Tristan asks, once Arthur has his chainmail back on (possibly the fastest Merlin has ever been). 

     “Round the back.” Merlin instructs them hurriedly, rushing them to the back door of his small house. He lets them leave before turning back towards where Agravaine is and casting a spell, which sends a cart rolling towards him. 

     “There!” Agravaine shouts, “Get them!”

     The group of them ran through the woods, Tristan supporting Isolde, as fast as they could. They approach the cave tunnels and Merlin shouted, “I’ll cover our tracks, you keep going!”  He turned away from then, running again. He shouted for Kilgharrah in dragon speak until he spotted the Southrons. He headed back towards the caves with no sign of Kilgharrah. He heard the beginnings of a dragon’s roar as he ran into the caves, smiling to himself.

     “Did you lose them?” Arthur asked as soon as Merlin caught up to them. Merlin thought it was vaguely inconsiderate, in a usual Arthur sort of way, but Arthur was mentally scanning Merlin over for injuries from the moment he could see him. 

     “It’s safe.” Merlin replied, imagining Kilgharrah swooping down over the Southrons.

     “You sure?”

     “Do I look like an idiot?”

     “Yes.” Arthur shrugged, finally concluding that Merlin was in fact perfectly fine.

     “Doesn’t change does it?”

     “Which way now?” Merlin looked around confusedly before shrugging to himself. “I thought you said you grew up in these tunnels?” Arthur pressed.

     “I did,” Merlin protested, “Just-- it could be that way…”

     “Or it could be that way.” Arthur finished exasperatedly.

     “Yes.”

     “That’s very reassuring.”

     They eventually decided which path to take and it wasn’t long before they stopped again, hearing movement behind them. “I thought you said we’d lost them.” Arthur said quietly, there was a small comfort in poking fun at Merlin, like falling into a familiar routine.

     “I thought I had.” Merlin replied, which just made Arthur feel uneasy again.

     “It won’t take long for them to catch us,” Tristan interjected.

     Merlin nodded his head decidedly. He knew he was the only one who could take on the following army of Southrons and survive it. “I’ll go back.”

     Arthur’s. 

     Heart.

     Stopped.

     “What are you gonna do?” He forced out, trying to make Merlin stop and stay with the group. 

     “Create a diversion.” Merlin shrugged, almost casually, and Arthur reached out to stop him. The move was completely instinctual, his whole being screaming for Merlin to stay with him.

     “It’s too risky.” 

     “I know these tunnels and Agravaine doesn’t. You keep going.” And with that Merlin handed Arthur his torch and made his decision. He may not have known what it was that he felt for Arthur but he knew that if he was going to risk his life for something, Arthur would be it. Every time.

     “Merlin…” Arthur wanted to say something more, something heartfelt but settled for, “Don’t do anything stupid.” And hoped it was enough.

     “Me?” Merlin laughed in an impossibly bright, ever so Merlin-like way, before taking off into the tunnels. Arthur stood there for a moment, conflicted as he’d ever been, before following after the others. 

     Merlin found the Southrons easily, with only a little magical help, and stopped to take a breath before turning the corner to face them. “Oh hello!” He exclaimed brightly, causing them all to look at him, before taking off down one of the other tunnels. Merlin ran until he felt like his lungs would collapse before hitting a dead end. Swearing internally at himself, he stopped to catch his breath before Agravaine and the Southrons approach from behind him.

      “Merlin. Merlin?” Agravaine repeated when Merlin doesn’t turn to face him. Merlin turned, a pit in his stomach. He knew now that either they made it out of these tunnels or he did and if they made it out, they’d make it to Arthur. Merlin couldn’t risk that. “Where’s Arthur?”

     Merlin shook his head sadly. “Be careful.” He warned.

     Agravaine looked confused. “What are you talking about?” He asked impatiently, “Where’s Arthur?” Merlin shifted his feet, he knew what he needed to do but that didn’t mean he wanted to. “Tell me. Now.” Agravaine ordered, “Or I’ll have to kill you.”

     Merlin shook his head sadly. He was out of options. “I don’t think so,” Merlin said, decidedly. Agravaine took a step towards him and Merlin’s eyes flashed, sending them all flying backwards. He stepped forward to inspect them and Agravaine woke, gasping. He sat up, looking at Merlin. Merlin lowered his head, then changed his mind and looked Agravaine in the eyes. He fixed him with a noble look he’d seen Arthur give his enemies many times.

     “You have magic.” He stated obviously.

     “I was born with it.” Merlin said the words with so much force that the cave seemed to fill with it. He found a small sense of relief in saying it out loud finally after so long. 

     Agravaine stood, watching Merlin, and all of the sudden his face seemed to light up. “So it’s you,” he said quietly, “You’re Emrys.”

     “That is what the druids call me.” Merlin ground out.

     “And you’ve been at court all this time? At Arthur’s side.” He started laughing, almost hysterically, “How you’ve managed to deceive him. I am impressed Merlin.” Merlin shuffled again. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you think.”

     Agravaine reached a hand out to Merlin, but Merlin raised his hand as though to strike him with magic. Agravaine’s smile faded, he gestured submission and Merlin lowered his hand. Agravaine whipped a knife out with his other hand to attack Merlin, but Merlin was faster. His hands shot out, his eyes flashed and Agravaine was blasted backwards. He landed, eyes open, and lay there motionless. Merlin knew it was over. He drew a deep breath before turning and walking away, feeling like his heart had turned to stone.

     Arthur stopped and turned to look down the tunnel behind him, feeling as though his whole being is being pulled in that direction. 

     “What are you doing?” Tristan asked him impatiently.

    Arthur shushed him, listening for what caused what he assumed was just his battle instincts. The rocks around him shook and a cold hand began to claw at his racing heart. “Merlin.” Arthur blurted, without even meaning to.

     “He knows the tunnels,” Tristan said reasonably, trying to urge Arthur forward, “He’ll find his way.”

     But Arthur didn’t hear him. He couldn’t shake the hollow feeling growing in his chest. He couldn’t lose Merlin. “I’m going back,” He said, walking past the others before they could say a word.

     “For a servant?” Tristan exclaimed confusedly.

     Gwen watched Arthur go with a knowing look, “You’re wrong about him.”

     Arthur heard someone coming down the tunnel and readied his sword. “Merlin!” A rush of air seemed to fill his lungs, as though he could finally breathe. “Where have you been?”

     Merlin hadn’t even realized Arthur was coming, everything seemed blocked. His blood was boiling and his chest felt hollow, though his heart was heavy and hardened. Upon seeing Arthur, almost running into him in fact, his senses began to come back to him. “Were you worried about me?” He asked, softening. 

     “No,” Arthur lied dumbly. He knew he had never felt more relieved in his life, but he’d never admit that to Merlin. The age old practices Uther had ingrained in him held true; he always told him that an emotional king was not a good king. “I was making sure we weren’t followed.”

     “You came back to look for me,” Merlin pressed, teasing. He felt human again. His senses were coming back, and he slipped into the familiarity of Arthur’s friendship

     “All right, it’s true,” Arthur sighed. The relief had overtaken him and his walls came tumbling down. This is Merlin, he thought, he could be real with Merlin. “I came back cause you’re the only friend I have and I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Arthur almost regretting saying it at all, but Merlin’s face softened and he knew he was okay.

     Merlin felt as though he was on fire, his feelings coming back to him all at once. Arthur, he had done this for Arthur. He’d do it again if that’s what it took to protect him. “Really?” He questioned, pressing on further. 

     Arthur smiled softly before turning back down the tunnel. “Don’t be stupid,” he called over his shoulder. Their smiles could have lit the whole cave as Merlin followed Arthur, both of them filled with their own relief. Merlin stopped suddenly, stumbling, and Arthur laughed. He was unaware that Merlin had finally come to the most important realization of his life. The realization that would change his life forever, should it ever get out. 

     He loved Arthur Pendragon. 

     What was worse, in Merlin’s opinion, was the other realizations that accompanied the fact that he loved Arthur. The feeling he had felt seeing Gwen and Arthur had been jealousy, that he wanted nothing more than to tell Arthur how he felt, and even worse yet that if he told Arthur how he felt he would have to tell him about his magic. 

     “So, where now?” Tristan asked as they finally reached the other side of the mountain. They were a mess of various injuries, Arthur was holding his wounded ribs and Isolde was being almost entirely supported by Tristan. 

     “To the plains beyond the mountains.” Arthur said decisively.

     “You sure?” Tristan questioned, “That’s Lot’s kingdom. He’s no friend of the Pendragons.” He looked at Arthur, quizzically.

     “Well, maybe we could find somewhere here. A house where we could rest,” Gwen spoke up. She was clearly trying to take the blame off of Arthur and defend him subtly. It was so unsubtle, and such a terrible idea, that Merlin almost rolled his eyes.

     “We’re fugitives,” Tristan stated, “A danger to anyone who harbours us.”

     “He’s right,” Merlin spoke up, “We must travel back towards Camelot.” He glanced at Arthur, who had been avoiding his gaze for that exact reason.

     “No,” he argued, “We need to keep going.”

     “If we hold up in the Forest of Essetir, we’ll be safe,” Merlin reasoned, “At least for a while.”

     Arthur knew Merlin was right, as always unfortunately, but he was afraid. Though he’d never have admitted it he couldn’t help but feel as though he had failed his people, he had let Morgana take the throne. He had trusted Agravaine even when Merlin, Merlin of all people, had told him not to. “No.”

     “If anyone has survived this battle,” Merlin persisted, “That’s where they’ll be hiding.” Arthur finally caught his eye and Merlin looked at him reassuringly, but determinedly. 

     “I know which I’d do,” Tristan interjected, “You’re the king, Arthur. You’re our leader…”

     “All right,”Arthur sighed, breaking his eye contact with Merlin, “Forest of Essetir it is.” Merlin stared after Arthur as he walked away. 

     When they had finally settled into the Forest of Essetir, Arthur set about helping Tristan to collect firewood. “Well well well, look at you.” Tristan spoke snidely after a moment of awkward silence, “First you go back to rescue your servant,” Arthur’s head was still spinning a little with the image that had rushed into his head when he had heard the noises in the cave. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Now you’re getting your hands dirty. But then again, why shouldn’t you? You’re just like everyone else. There’s nothing special about you, is there?” Tristan continued, landing on all the right buttons to push.

     “Well, maybe you’re right.” Arthur conceded softly, “Maybe I don’t deserve to be king.”

     “Well, that’s alright, cause you’re not.” Tristan said bluntly. Arthur almost dropped the wood he was carrying. “Not anymore.” Then he strutted off without another word. Arthur was really, truly reeling with it all. He tossed the wood aside, frustratedly, running his hands through his hair. He started walking, determined to clear his head. He barely heard Gwen calling after him until she grabbed his arm. He stopped abruptly and spun around to face her. 

     “Don’t.” Arthur exclaimed, and Gwen pulled back. “What happened in Ealdor was a moment’s weakness.” Gwen flinched back, “What you did to me… Everything I cherished between us, everything we had, it’s gone. That’ll never change.” On top of everything else, he couldn’t shake the feeling that had clung to him since that moment, that things with Gwen just didn't feel right anymore. He thought it was just betrayal, that he was still angry with her, but he slowly realized it was something deeper than that. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

     Merlin and Arthur were lounging by the fire that night and Arthur still couldn’t quiet the whirlwind happening in his mind. He crossed his arms as he sat, puzzled and saddened. 

     “Come on, I’ll take watch.” Merlin said, but it went unnoticed by Arthur. “Arthur, what’s the matter?” Merlin asked, and Arthur finally looked towards him. “Don’t listen to Tristan, he doesn’t know you.”

     “I trusted the wrong people.” Arthur said, quietly.

     Merlin shook his head, “They betrayed you. That wasn’t your fault.”

     “No. I was a fool.” Arthur argued, “I misjudged everyone… my uncle… Morgana. Every decision I’ve made has been wrong.” 

     “You’re not.” Merlin argued softly, “You’re a worthy king.” Merlin knew this, of course, because he knew Arthur was really the “Once and Future King who will unite the lands of Albion” though he couldn’t tell Arthur why he knew that. 

     “I’m good with a sword,” Arthur lamented, “That’s all.”

     Merlin felt so immensely sad for Arthur in that moment. Being Arthur’s manservant had given Merlin an exclusive look into the life of a crowned prince, a knight, and finally a king. He had always known there was an enormous weight on Arthur’s shoulders, and though he tried to ease it and help Arthur where he could it would never be enough. “Your people love you.” Merlin said, finally.  As do I, he almost continued, before stopping himself. 

     “Most of them are dead,” Arthur replied, missing the almost startled look on Merlin’s face as he continued to brood. “Thanks to me.”

     “No, most of them escaped,” Merlin said declared, “They’ll be here in the forest, I’m sure of that.”

     Arthur didn’t want Merlin to be right though. Because if they were in the forest, Arthur would have to face them. “Well, if they are, they’ll have to find themselves a new king.” Arthur couldn’t bare to see disappointment in Merlin’s eyes too, so he got up and walked away. He could hear Merlin calling after him but he couldn’t face it.

     When Merlin woke Arthur he had a solid plan formulated in his mind. Arthur would believe in himself again, Merlin was determined of that if nothing else. Talking to Kilgharrah the night before had given him an idea, for once, of what he needed to do.

     “What?” Arthur asked, grumpily, at being woken up.

     “There’s something I need to show you.” Merlin said. He turned and walked away and Arthur sat confused for a second before grabbing his sword and following him.

     “This had better be good because this really isn't the time for one of your ridiculous games.” Arthur grumbled, following Merlin through the forest anyway.

     “I was thinking about last night and how you were saying how you'd given up all hope, how you were a poor leader and a shoddy king,” Merlin replied, slipping once again into the familiar routine of teasing Arthur.

      "Shoddy?” Arthur repeated, doubtfully

     “All right, shabby."

      “Thanks”.

     “Well, it reminded me of a tale Gaius once told me,” Merlin started.

     “Merlin, I'm really not interested in your favourite bedtime stories.” Arthur was tired, and grumpy, and he didn’t want to hear what he thought was going to be more of Merlin teasing him. 

     “For once in your life, just...listen.” Merlin sighed. Arthur held his hands up in surrender. Merlin continued “Many years ago, before the birth of the five kingdoms, this land was in an endless cycle of bloodshed and war, but one man was determined to end all that. He gathered together the elders of each tribe and drew up plans for the lands to be divided. Each would respect the others' boundaries, and drew it over the land as they saw fit. That man was Camelot's first king, ancestor to all that followed, including you, Arthur.”

     “Bruta,” Arthur interjected.

     “You know the story.”

     “Yes, every child in Camelot does. Can I go back to bed now?” Arthur was growing impatient, though part of him knew that Merlin didn’t usually go on like this for no reason. He almost turned back to the camp, but Merlin kept walking and he kept following on instinct, if anything.

     “No,” Merlin sighed again, “Because there's another part of the story that you haven't heard.

     “Really?”

     “When Bruta was on his deathbed,” Merlin continued, “he asked to be taken deep into the forest. There, with the last of his strength, he thrust his sword into a rock. If his lineage was ever questioned, this would form a test. Only a true king of Camelot could pull the weapon free.” Arthur stopped walking and stared at Merlin curiously.

     “Are you making this up?” He asked abruptly.

     “Of course not.” Merlin chuckled. He continued walking, leaving Arthur to try and figure out if he was lying or not. Arthur kept following him.

     “All right. If it's true, why haven't I heard this story?” He asked, doubtfully.

     “Well, history isn't really your strong point, is it?” Merlin chuckled again, teasing once again.

     “And where is this rock?”

     “Oh, it was lost many years ago during the Great Purge, but,” Merlin paused to look at Arthur, “I've managed to find it.”

     “I've never heard so much rubbish in my entire life,” Arthur laughed, finally.

     “Are you calling Gaius a liar?” Merlin laughed too, just a little.

     “No, I'm calling you an idiot,” Arthur countered, finally sinking into the familiar as well.

     “What's that then?” Merlin smirked Arthur followed Merlin's gaze and settled on the sword, stuck in the stone as Merlin had described. They walked closer to it and a crowd of Camelot knights and people came from the trees, surprising Arthur. Merlin smiled, his plan had worked. Arthur glanced back at him and caught sight of Merlin’s beaming proud expression. He wanted to keep that expression on Merlin’s face forever

     “What the hell are you playing at?” Arthur questioned.

     “I'm proving that you are their leader and their king,” Merlin said proudly.

     “That sword is stuck fast in solid stone,” Arthur argued doubtfully, realizing Merlin’s plan.

     “And you're going to pull it out.” Merlin said firmly.

     “Merlin, it's impossible.”

     “Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot.” 

     Arthur glanced back at the crowd of people watching them before looking back at Merlin. He knew from the look in Merlin’s eye that he wouldn’t back down. “Do you want me to look like a fool?”

     Merlin bit back a retort of well yes, before continuing, “No, I'm going to make you see that Tristan's wrong; you aren't just anyone, you are special. You and you alone can draw out that sword.” Merlin, of course, believed in Arthur above anything,

     Arthur drew his own sword and stuck it in the ground before glancing at Merlin. “You better be right about this.” He approached the stone slowly. He looked up at the crowd hesitantly, not wanting to disappoint them again, then placed both hands on the hilt. He tried to pull it up, but the sword wouldn’t move, just as he suspected.

     “You have to believe, Arthur,” Merlin interjected. Arthur pulled at the sword again, arms shaking with effort, but still nothing happened. Merlin glanced at the crowd and saw them all watching Arthur intently. “You're destined to be Albion's greatest king.” Arthur let go of the sword, ready to give up, but Merlin spoke from behind him. “Nothing, not even this stone can stand in your way.” Arthur remembered the look on Merlin’s face when they had entered the clearing, he looked at the faces of his people, and he wanted to earn their pride. He positioned himself, placing one hand on the swords hilt and closing his eyes. “Have faith.” Merlin murmured.

     Arthur lifted his chin, picturing their faces, Merlin’s face, and willed himself to believe. Unbeknown to him, Merlin’s eyes finally glowed and the sword was released from the stone. Arthur pulled it out and stared at it in awe. 

     The people watched, shocked, until Leon spoke up. “Long live the king!” He exclaimed. Suddenly the chant echoed through the clearing as Arthur thrust the sword into the air triumphantly. He glanced at Merlin, who smiled at him, and Arthur came to his own startling realization. He loved Merlin. He was a complete dollophead but he couldn’t do it without him and he loved him. 

      “What about the drawbridge?” Arthur asked, standing around with his knights. 

     “Well manned.” Leon replied.

     “As are the northern gates.” Percival added, as though he had foreseen Arthur’s next question. Arthur almost swore in desperation.

     “The battlements on the south side?” Arthur knew the castle better than anyone, he had lived there all his life,  he played there, fought there, trained there. It was his home all his life, he knew it like the back of his hand. Unfortunately so did Morgana.

     “Arthur, even if we can get inside, she has an army.”

     “And we have what? A few hundred?” Arthur almost swore again but he steeled himself. This had to work. He would save Camelot. It was his home, they were his people. 

     “And they still outnumber us,”

     “Yeah but only three to one.” Arthur argued stubbornly. Leon chuckled in the background. He had known Arthur the longest, he had seen that one coming from a mile away.

     “And you think they’ll fight?” Isolde interjected, sceptically.”

     “Well they’ll fight for Arthur.” Leon defended.

     “It’s not me they fight for. It’s Camelot.” Merlin almost scoffed in the background.

     “No Arthur,” Leon voiced the argument Merlin didn’t, “It is you that people love, and you that they will lay down their lives for. I know that I would ride into the mouth of hell for you.”

     “And I.” Percival agreed. Tristan and Isolde exchanged surprised looks.

     “And I.” Merlin voiced, causing Arthur to catch his eye. 

     A thousand words seemed to pass between them in that moment. It steeled Arthur’s resolve and strengthened everything he believed. He drew his sword, hardly breaking eye contact, “Into the mouth of hell it is.” He could do it, he hoped. He had his knights, and somehow more importantly he had Merlin. He wanted to believe that could be enough, so it would be.

     Planning had taken its toll on Arthur. He was exhausted by the time nightfall hit, wandering around the camp almost aimlessly. His mind was a little fuzzy until Merlin jogged up behind him. “You all right?” Merlin's voice cut through the fog and cleared Arthur’s head.

     “Yes.”

     “Do you think there are too many of them?” Merlin questioned. Arthur was stubborn, Merlin knew better than anyone. He’d never admit his concerns to the knights, especially in front of Tristan, but Merlin knew they were there. He could see it in Arthur’s eyes as they planned. 

     “Southrons are men like you and me. Men we can fight. But Morgana…” Arthur shook his head, sighing, “Her power is so great and we’ve got nothing to answer it with.” 

     “I never finished Gaius’s story,” Merlin piped up. He wouldn’t let Arthur doubt himself, he’d make up a thousand old stories.

     “Not now, Merlin, please.”

     “Will you just listen?” Merlin put his hand on his hips, sighing. Arthur was too tired to argue with him in that moment. He knew Merlin wouldn’t be telling him this if it weren’t for a reason. Merlin believed in him, Arthur knew it but in that moment his need to hear it was crushing.

     “When the sword was thrust into the stone, the ancient king foretold that one day it would be freed again at a time when Camelot needed it most. The man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest kingdom the world has ever known. That man is you, Arthur.” Arthur’s brow furrowed and Merlin smiled softly. Gods how he loved him.

     “You’re making this up.”

     “Why would I do that? Your heads already as big as your waist.” Merlin chuckled. There was something in Arthur’s eye that made him continue, “I believe it though. And I believe in you. I always have.” Arthur's chest felt lighter and he revelled in it for a moment. Taking in the proud look in Merlin’s eye. He glanced at his sword, considering it before letting out a sigh. 

     “That may be true,” He took a shuddering breath, “But we’re still no match for her magic. We have only a few hundred men and no way to protect against her power. My father always taught me that magic was evil, and so were all those who practised it, and yet now it seems to be our only hope.” Suddenly it was all just pouring out of him. He was so tired. “Maybe magic isn’t evil, I’ve seen it be good, it’s the reason I’m even here at all. But then it also killed my mother. Maybe it’s just corruptive, who knows, but we stand no chance at defeating Morgana alone.”

     “Don’t worry about that.” Merlin interjected softly. He had to tell Arthur, he knew it in that moment, and it broke his heart. 

     “Merlin-” Arthur started to argue.

     “Arthur,” Merlin interrupted. He took a deep breath, “You don’t have to worry about that, I will take care of it.”

     “What are you going to do, Merlin?” Arthur asked incredulously. He had no idea what had gotten into Merlin in that moment.

     Merlin took a great shuddering breath and stepped closer to Arthur. There was a humoured glint in his eye and Merlin was lost in it. He studied Arthur’s face, trying to commit to memory the way he was looking at him now. Tired but at the same time awake and so impossibly full of life. There was trust in his eyes and Merlin clung to it, the thought of never seeing it again crushed him. But Arthur needed to know, he couldn’t doubt himself or they really would fail. Merlin steeled his resolve and, with a last look at Arthur’s smiling face, lowered his voice, bowed his head and spoke his truth. “I have magic.” Arthur froze, his smile slipping. “I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

     “Merlin…” Arthur breathed, almost unconsciously. He wanted to believe it was a trick, but he looked in Merlin’s eyes and he knew it wasn’t. “Why did you never tell me?”

     “You would have chopped my head off,” Merlin tried to joke, but his heart was heavy. Arthur would never look at him the same way again, he’d never trust him. He knew, he’d always known, that this day would come but he had never expected to love Arthur so much when it did.

     “That’s what worried you?” Arthur asked quietly. His mouth was hardly moving, he was hardly even aware he was speaking at all. Merlin having magic went against everything he had ever been taught about magic. He had always been taught that sorcerers were evil and yet here stood Merlin. Clumsy, stupid, brilliant Merlin. Suddenly he was overwhelmingly tired, his mind was spinning and the ground seemed to sway. 

     “Arthur, I can sneak into Camelot and disable Morgana’s magic. It may be only temporary but it might be enough to let us defeat her.”

     “You can’t just go sneaking into Camelot, we wouldn’t be here if you could, Merlin. It’s too dangerous.”

     “I’ll use magic,” Merlin argued in a loud whisper, “She’ll never even know it was me.” 

     “Merlin-”

     “It could be our only chance Arthur. I’m going to do it. You can put me on trial for it when we get back to Camelot if you wish. I’ll be arrested for sorcery anyway.” And with that Merlin stormed off, leaving Arthur reeling in his wake. 

     That night, as he’d planned, Merlin snuck into Camelot and planted an effigy under Morgana’s bed that would take her magic. He’d disguised himself as the Old Man, the face Morgana associated with the name Emrys. With Agravaine dead there had been no one to correct Morgana’s theory. Morgana had seen him and panicked and Merlin knew the sight of him would cause her more paranoia than he could imagine. When he’d returned to the camp he was exhausted. He’d collapsed into sleep under a tree only to be woken up a short while later by Arthur.

     “Wakey wakey,” Arthur snapped his fingers in Merlin’s face as he stared off into space. “You look as though you’ve been up half the night.” He seemed determined to pretend that Merlin hadn’t said anything last night, and Merlin didn’t know what to make of it. The fact of the matter was that, from what Arthur could tell, Merlin didn’t have an evil bone in his body.

     “I was,” Merlin gave Arthur a look before adding, “Couldn’t sleep.”

     “I thought you said you had faith in me?” Arthur joked. He couldn’t hate him, he’d realized after hours of tossing and turning. He needed Merlin. Merlin had been by his side for so long Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how to function without him anymore. And yet, there was a distance between them now. Arthur couldn’t help but think back to everything his father had ever told him about sorcerers. But then he’d look at Merlin, who’d been beside him since the beginning, and found he could scarcely believe any of it. But he had to be careful. He loved Merlin, he knew that now, but he couldn’t let that cloud his judgement. Not again. 

     Merlin was confused, for once he didn’t know what Arthur was thinking. But he had spent all night dreading the look in Arthur’s eyes that morning and found it had been much the same as the night before. There was a glimmer of apprehension in Arthur’s eyes, but there was trust there too. So much trust. He wouldn’t let that opportunity go to waste. “Whatever gave you that idea” He answered back. Arthur shrugged and smiled at him and Merlin felt like his chest could have burst from relief. Arthur went off to talk to Tristan and Isolde, presumably to say goodbye, but it seemed they planned on staying around. Merlin watched proudly as Arthur left them with a nod, he knew they’d see Arthur for who he really was. 

     Arthur had stepped away for a moment to escape the commotion of the camp and the battle planning. He needed to clear his head. He drew his new sword, admiring the inscription and feeling the balance. He thought of the moment he’d pulled it from the stone, seeing his people look on him with admiration and pride. Even thought he’d managed to let Morgana take Camelot in  the first place. He heard a rustling in the bushes behind him before he heard someone speak.

     “Arthur,” He registered it as Guinevere’s voice and turned, half in shock. He wasn’t sure who he’d expected. “If anything happens to us, I want you to know…”

     “Guinevere--”

     “I understand why you can’t forgive me. I don’t know why I did what I did. But I am sorry for the hurt it caused you.” Gwen walked away, leaving Arthur to consider what she had said.

     When the time came, Arthur and his men armed themselves and took place outside the borders of Camelot. Arthur swung his sword forward, signalling for them to move out. The knights split off into groups and the fighting started. Arthur fought his way through the Southrons fiercely, holding his still injured ribs in the moments between. Merlin was never far from him, following through the wreckage. He made sure the Southrons were down for good. 

     Outside the council room, Arthur and his party took out the last of the guards. “Whatever happened to the idea of finding a bit of land and settling down?” Isolde quipped to Tristan as Arthur walked past.

     Arthur stood next to Merlin and looked at his new sword. “You know this thing’s not half bad.” 

     “Thought you might like it.” Arthur chuckled as everyone regained their breath and composure. They stood ready to enter the council chambers, where the worst of Morgana’s guards would be. 

     “Ready?” Arthur asked.. Everyone nodded and took a breath. 

     “For the love of Camelot!” They shouted and charged in, only to skid to a stop when they saw that the room was only occupied by Morgana, who was lounging on the throne, and one man. 

     “Welcome, dear brother,” Morgana said airily, “It’s been far too long.” She stood and walked toward them, continuing. “I apologise if you had a difficult reception. It’s hard to know who to trust these days.” She stopped in the middle of the room, looking at Arthur expectantly. Arthur approached slowly, holding his sword in an open hand. She watched his hand closely and he slid the sword back into his belt for the first time since they arrived. He met her in the middle, studying her closely.

     “What happened to you Morgana?” Arthur asked softly. The look in Morgana’s eye was almost regretful as she studied him in return. Hurt was plain on both their faces. “I thought we were friends.”

     “As did I.” Morgana’s voice was soft, but then it hardened like steel, “But alas we were both wrong.”

     “You can’t blame me for my father’s sins.” Arthur argued.

     “It's a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind.” Arthur’s thoughts shifted to Merlin and the look of fear in his eyes the night before. He could almost feel Merlin shift on his feet behind him, he fought the urge to look at him. “You're not as different from Uther as you'd like to think.” 

     “Nor are you.”

     “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon.” Morgana sneered, “Not even Emrys can save you now.” Arthur drew his sword and Morgana smirked. “Your blades cannot stop me.” Merlin braced himself silently, unnoticed by Morgana as she exclaimed, “Hleap on bæc!”

     The room stood still, but nothing happened. Arthur stood, still ready for an attack, as Morgana looked confused. Morgana tried again, raising her hand for strength. There was a quiver of fear in her voice as nothing happened once again. Arthur realised Merlin’s plan had worked with a slight rush of pride but he was overcome by sadness as Morgana’s state.

     “Not so powerful now, my lady.” Arthur said sadly. Morgana’s guard, who’d been standing off to the side until now, pulled her behind him and she took off running. “After her!” Arthur exclaimed, and Merlin and Gwen took off in the same direction. Arthur struggled to fight Morgana’s guard. His ribs were screaming in pain with every movement. The guard knocked him down, disarming him, and raised his sword for the final blow. Arthur thought of Merlin. Before the guard could make his move, Isolde stabbed him in the back. He spun around, slicing Isolde as he dropped dead. Arthur realized what had happened when he saw the look in Isolde’s eyes. He rushed forward to help her, Tristan at his heels.

     Merlin and Gwen returned to the council room to see Tristan holding Isolde to him with Arthur crouched in front of them. 

     “Our dreams…” Isolde trailed off.

     “Isolde, don’t.” Tristan said softly.

     “I wish…”

     “I wish too.”

     “Hold me.” Isolde’s voice quivered with fear. Tristan held her closer and her eyes drifted shut. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her before burying his face in her hair, sobbing quietly. Arthur’s gaze drifted up to look at Merlin who looked up to meet his gaze slowly. Merlin could see the guilt in Arthur’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze silently. Gwen looked between the two of them and nodded to herself, understanding. 

      Later that day, Merlin set to work cleaning Arthur’s chambers, which had been completely ransacked. He set a chair upright at the table as Arthur entered. Merlin watched him inspect the room sadly. “It will take some time.” He said quietly.

     “Well you’ll take care of it,” Arthur chuckled. Merlin smiled at him, once again trying to memorise the look on Arthur’s face, here, before the inevitable.

     Merlin sighed, “Arthur, if you want to put me on trial for sorcery… I can leave. I’ll go back to Ealdor. You don’t have to see me again.” Merlin’s heart ached at the idea as he watched Arthur’s face expectantly.

     “Merlin, I don’t want to do that. Quite the opposite actually. I want you to stay.” Merlin looked at him confusedly and Arthur took an involuntary step towards him. “Merlin…”

     “You don’t have to say anything,” Merlin interrupted,  fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket nervously.

     “Everything that’s happened between us…”

     “Arthur please, I know I lied to you.”

     “I don’t care.” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hands to stop his twitching. Merlin met his eye cautiously. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Arthur said heavily. Merlin smiled a little, but Arthur could see the apprehension in his eyes. “For god’s sake Merlin,” he chuckled, squeezing Merlin’s hand softly. He took a step closer to Merlin. “I’m not going to banish you or put you on trial, I couldn’t.” Standing this close, he could see the different shades of blue in Merlin’s eyes, the hints of gold. He could see the dirt smudged on Merlin’s brow and cheek and the faint splatter of blood on his face. 

     Merlin was confused, to say the least. When he had told Arthur of his magic, he had half expected him to kill him on the spot or banish him right then and there. He certainly never expected Arthur to speak to him again, let alone look him in the eye as he did now. He felt as through the rug would be pulled out from under him at any moment, that Arthur would reveal it was a trick. But then, he could have killed Merlin right there and Merlin would have been okay. Arthur’s hands were warm on his and his gaze was gentle. Merlin could have died happy there. 

     Arthur lifted his hand and wiped the dirt from Merlin’s cheek softly. He saw the confusion in Merlin’s eyes and laughed. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you Merlin?”

     “Must be from all the time I’ve spent with you,” Merlin quipped, instinctively. 

     Arthur’s hands cradled Merlin’s face softly as he threw his head back laughing. “I could have you thrown in the stocks for that.”

     “You could try but what’s to say I stay there this time, I could just magic my way out, what’s the harm now?” Merlin chuckled, “Besides given the state of the castle they probably aren’t even there.”

     “I’ll have them make new ones.”

     “I’ll break them.”

     “Sometimes I think you forget who I am.”

     “You’re a prat. And a royal one.” 

     Arthur shook his head laughing. “What am I going to do with you, Merlin?” Merlin shrugged, smiling. Arthur’s hands were still resting on his face and Merlin’s had found a place on Arthur’s waist, almost involuntarily. “You’re lucky I love you, you clotpole.”

     “That’s my w--” Arthur cut off Merlin’s indignant muttering as he surged forward to press his lips to Merlin’s. Merlin smiled into the kiss, deciding he was quite happy Arthur didn’t kill him. He’d much rather be doing this for eternity.

     “I love you too, dollophead,” Merlin murmured as they pulled apart. Arthur scoffed and kissed him again. 

[achillesuwu]

DAD ARTHUR IS NOT A WANT IT’S A NEED !!!!!!!! (Also that fic was so sweet holy shit !?) Merlin, it’s your duty to bring back the dragon race so get to work 🫵 baby trap your man with dragon eggs you put under his Christmas tree

You see how people have many look-alike in this world ? well what if Merlin find a Ygraine looks alike and think surely, surely, to means Arthur will be back so he starts to follow her life closely and hope but it’s all in vain because she is not Ygraine. She is just a look alike, the first of many, they don’t always have the same skin color, the same eyes, the same hair, the same voice, the same height but they have their face and their smile.