#[[Squire Rising]] - Arthur

[lost-kingsmen]

Late Knights in the Lizard Lair

———

((Arthur has told Gawain a thousand times that they aren’t calling his shed workshop the ‘Lizard Lair’. I need to put this down now. My phone is starting to lag from all the layers the file has to open.))

[corvidfeathers]

Mordred’s monologue - Grail Knight

This is from my thesis play, a grail quest story where Galahad is a trans girl and the world of Logres is slowly dying as a mirror of climate crisis. Me and a theater collective adapted into an immersive play in the summer of 2022, which is still one of the most amazing experiences I’ve ever had the privilege to have. This is one of my favorite pieces of the play, and one that I think can stand on its own.

Image transcript:

MORDRED

I travel three days with Sir Lancelot, which is time enough to remember why I seldom do that. Brave Sir Lancelot, honorable Sir Lancelot, obedient Sir Lancelot; the flower of chivalry, the king’s favorite knight. Arthur and Gwynefer may see no flaw in him, but I know otherwise. He keeps his mask of courtly courtesy, but I feel his eyes on me when he thinks I’m not looking. Waiting for me to show some sign of treachery. Maybe this is why he stayed at my side; every mile we go from Camelot is a mile between me and the king he so loves.

Or maybe he considers it some sort of kindness, to his former squire. Sir Lancelot thinks he will find the Grail with all haste, and return in all glory, and if I remain at his side, a little of it may be left for me.

Or maybe he was just trying to escape Sir Galahad.

On the fourth morning, I wake with a strange certainty ringing in my ears. It calls me to rise and dress as the mist creeps from up the grass and the night bleeds away; there’s something in the mist waiting for me. Lancelot tries to call me back, to warn me from leaving, but why should I pay him mind? We’re all equal on the quest, Sir Galahad said, and it’s not as if the flower of chivalry knows where he’s going. Let him chase after me for once.

Maybe this is the certainty Sir Galahad felt; maybe this is the Grail. The mist thickens as I go onward, until I reach a wide black river.

My mother always told me to mind my wits when I cross water; cross a river without heed, and you may find yourself farther than the other bank. Unlike some, she knew of what she spoke; she knew all the old magics of the land; she whispered of them to me every night, and when I left home she wove spells into my cloak, to keep her youngest son from harm. But that cloak is as tattered as my vows, so I don’t think of her advice when I am knee-deep in the black water, the rush of it all around me.

It sounds like a battle, like a cataclysm, like the crash of the sea against the isle of Orkney, it sounds like death and fate, a cold force that drives onward like the tide that sweeps a ship to the rocks, closer and closer and closer. The current pulls at my feet, at my chest, at my chin until I am like to drown.

Any death but this. Any death but this. A coward’s prayer.

I drag myself out onto the far bank, spitting water, and lie there and let my foolish certainty die. Let Sir Galahad have her quest. Let Sir Lancelot find the Grail- I’m fitted for one fate only, and it isn’t going to be found in this misty forest.

Cross a river without heed, my mother said, and you may find yourself in a kingdom of shadows and lies, a land of ghosts and fae. I don’t think of her advice when I lift my head, and for a moment I think I am back in Camelot; here is the round table, and here the king. A bone-white table, laid out beneath the mist-strung trees, and a king that is monstrous to look upon, a desiccated creature sitting alone at an empty table, with wounds that weep bubbling seafoam and eyes that burn like the bleeding sky, and a crown wrought of stone and oak.

His head hangs with the weight of it. I cannot tear my eyes away, and I know that it is this, this is the tide that pulled me here, not the grail, not the pull of glory or duty but the fate I cannot escape.

Cross a river without heed, my mother said, and you may find that you, yourself, are a shade. I don’t think of her advice when I draw my sword, and drive it into the creature’s chest.

[tansyuduri]

Merlin Loregasm Rewatch S1E5

Hi Everyone! Welcome to my rewatch of Merlin focusing on the lore. I am a giant nerd so pretty excited about this. We’re on LANCELOT

Lancelot: It's my life's ambition to join the Knights of Camalot OKAY let's talk knights! While most knights were nobles. (Especially in the later middle ages) Not all were. In the early middle ages it was not that unusual for a commoner to be knighted for acts of valor in battle, Great service to a much higher lord, or marrying a noble woman. While this got much more rare it did not fully die out. So Lancelot coming as a commoner and hoping to be a knight is unusual but not unheard of. His way of going ABOUT it is a bit odd.

Arthur: Right you jumped up dung beetle this is it. your final test. Pass this and you are a knight of camalot. Fail and you're no one. You face the most feared of all foes. The ultimate killing machine. You face me. Your challenge is to last one minute in free combat. Grimmond second son of Wessex. Your time starts now. OKAY lots to talk about here. First of all Knight of Camalot must be a great honnor. This dude is the second son of at LEAST a noble family. That being considered no one is huge. However the second son thing could mean he would not inherit his fathers title and this is what Arthur refers to.

ALSO is Wessex suborninate to Camalot? Or are knights just coming from outside Camelot because being a knight of Xamalot is such a big deal. Wessex was a anglo-saxon kingdom and as I have said before we are pre saxon take over in Merlin. HOWEVER the first recorded king of Wessex was named Cedirc and this name is thought to be brittonic rather than saxon giving rise to the theory he was a native of Briton who was later saxonized. Possibly implying a existance of Wessex before the Saxons arrived. It is also implied that for a while he was not a king. SO it's possible Wessex could have been part of Camalot. Also, the test is interesting. See Kings could knight whoever they wanted. Occasionally they would go on a knighting spree of squires just so they could say they had more knights before a battle. Of course as we know in Camalot squires are not a thing. So the normal path of page to squire to knight goes out the window. MY POINT HERE is this test might serve as a replacement for that. Come up with by either Uther or Arthur. Hey you wanna be a knight for us? Sure, pass this test and BOOM knight. It kinda suggests that a LOT of people wanna come be knights of Camelot. (Which seeing how many die is a good thing) So my question is WHY. WHY is this such a plum gig that people want it so bad. Is there some level of renown? Uther does not seem to give out bits of land so it can't be that.

Okay I'm kinda loving the fact that the coat of arms for Wessex is similar to but not the same as the one given to Wessex in the 1300s. Same colors no cross (eliminating Christianity) and what looks like different animals. (but its hard to see)

First reference to the First code of Camalot. Only those of noble blood can serve as knights. Will talk about this a bit more later then reasoning is explained a bit I do find it interesting that they use the word code which was also used for the "code of chivalry"

Gaius: The first code of camalot states that only those of noble blood can serve a knight. Uther created the knights to prtect this kingdom from those who wished to destroy it. He knew he would have to trust each of his knights with his life. So he chose them from the families that had sworn allegiance to him. The nobility Okay first of all considering how he treats commoners and is paranoid fair. SECOND OF ALL HOLY SHIT UTHER CREATED THE KNIGHTS? What was there before? I mean I know he conquered the kingdom. so choosing them from families sworn to him makes sense in that aspect. BUT DID CAMALOT JUST NOT HAVE KNIGHTS? I mean where were the Knights of Medir sooo. Okay I've got this. Knights of Camalot were likely disbanded or something following the abuses of the Knights of Medir. Uther however was like Naw fam I'm bringing them back, there is NO WAY that could happen to me. So he re-formed the knights of Camalot. ALSO does this mean every camalot knight we see comes from Camalot nobility? So Camalot has some part of western illes (Valiants heraldry implied Ireland so Camalot owns part of Ireland?) Or can it be from any nobility? Even if it's not sworn to him? And Northumbria mentioned later is also Camalot but there are still other kingdoms? Okay okay. so either at first knight they were nobles of Camalot but then things spread to other nobles. That's why Uther doesn't seem to know Valient. (Of freaking Ireland) but still invites him to serve as a knight of Camalot. And has knights coming to try to serve from lots of places. OR Camalot is bigger than I thought it was despite just being conquered and Includes some of "the western illes" (Almost certainly Ireland) Wessex, and Northumbria. (While Mercia is somehow its own kingdom) Gonna look for evidence to resolve this as I keep watching the show. because I NEED TO KNOW.

FYI I will not be trying to solve what obscure references like this are about. A LOT ABOUT TOPOGRAPHY CAN CHANGE esp when magic effects things.

Okay LORD of Northumbria. Its looking like Camalot actually does include Northumbria and likley Wessex but not Mercia. (Also thus possibly some least bits of Ireland? Or the other two were from outside Camalot and Northumbria is part of Camalot. I'M KEEPING AN EYE ON THIS. BECAUSE AGAIN I NEED TO KNOW. ANYHOW LETS TALK NORTHUMBIA

It was an Anglo Saxon Kingdom consisting of two other lands that united under the Saxons. (Bernica and Deira both of whom likely existed before the saxon invasion.) Now Deira at least it brought up later so it's likely separate from them. Bernicia is also never mentioned in Merlin SO my thought is Merlin world wise Northumbria is basically the name we are using for Bernicia. Because otherwise it just plain would not exist yet.

Okay in a time before machine made clothing this is a BIG DEAL. See noble did not sew her own clothing. Instead they would hire a tailer who was hired specifically to make custom fitted clothing for the elite. AND if this is true it means Gwen might have been one of them in addition to being a servant. Gwen would likely be far from the only one. But if she was the best that would be noticed. HOWEVER If a noble family was wealthy enough and had an extensive staff, they might hire a tailor exclusively. I don't think Gwen served this role simply because she would not have the time. Gwen however CLEARLY knows how to sew clothing for nobles, as she does it for Lancelot. This implies that she in fact DOES sew clothing for nobles (If not the pendragons themselves) as a side gig. This would likely earn her money. (Further supporting the Gwen's family is more well off than most non nobles theory.) I find it interesting that she keeps being a servant when she has this as a possibility. Does she need to? Or is her loyalty to Morgana and Later Arthur on display here that she chooses to keep being a servant?

Hahaha Okay this position is pretty unique to the Merlin world. Normally patents of nobility would be used and not really checked. ALSO, nobility would have married other nobility People tended to know each other or of each other. Nobles never really had to prove their status otherwise, because their status is known to everyone at the time of their birth.

Gaius: A griffin is a creature of magic. It is born of Magic, Sire and can only be killed by magic. Okay what constitutes a creature of magic? Unicorns are not, thats clear, Are Afancs? Since Merlin did use magic there they could be? Cockatrices are not, however. And trolls are not. In short what counts as a "Creature of magic" Seems to be kinda arbitrary in Merlin. So not much I can extrapolate here.

LIKE I SAID IN PREVIOUS POSTS Gwen's father is not just a typical village blacksmith. And that has implications on the status of Gwens family and their ability to live a higher quality life. (I talked a lot about this in previous episodes)

Okay we have a thank god from Gaius who we KNOW was trained in the old religion. SO either saying god does not mean you are not pagan in Merlin, or he converted or somthing.

Gwen sent at least the helmet off with him. Possibly more. That stuff is not cheap! As in normally only rich nobles could afford it. Also did she send him off with the set that was the best she had? I don't really think Lancelot would accept that. So I think she sent him off with a cheaper suit or helm. UNLESS Lancelot didn't really know how expensive armor was. Which is a big possibility because he didn't know about the code so he might not know about other things in a knights world.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Sorry! Same anon who just requested the Arthur dayne one- could I change it to summer wine please? Just realized lavender fields has already been done:) thank you!!

Hello! I know you asked for NSFW, but I’m not sure how NSFW you wanted it, so I’ve erred on the side of caution and stuck to kissing.

“A knight’s kiss”

Pairing: Arthur Dayne x Fem. Reader (Second Person POV) | Location: Lannisport, 276 AC (The Tourney to honor Prince Viserys’ birth) | Prompt: Summer Wine

Themes: Soft | NSFW | Secret romance

Warnings : Kissing | Some sensuality | Mention of alcohol use

Word Count: 800+ words

Summary: Arthurs shares a private moment with you before he has to return for the final tilt.

A/n: Since there is no proper physical description for Arthur, I’ve decided to go with him having purple eyes, similar to his sister.

Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume.

Arthur retreated to his tent, deep in thought.  

He removed his helm and gauntlets, wincing when pain cut through his limbs like a knife. The jousts had already exacted a heavy price. His entire body was bruised and sore. His right arm throbbed and ached with dull fire. Arthur could do nothing but collapse into the nearest chair, thinking to make the most of this brief respite before he had to return to the lists at dusk for one last ride.

One final tilt remained, and he was sure to emerge the victor of this tourney. That should have pleased Arthur had it not been for his next foe: a young man of ten and eight who happened to be the crown prince and son of a king fighting a losing battle against the madness that had blighted so many of his forebearers. He groaned and muttered an oath, then allowed himself a few whimpers while stretching out in his chair.

"Are you well, ser? Your squire said you wanted to be alone for a while."

Arthur looked over his shoulder and found you standing by the entrance, your hair limned in the dying light of the setting sun. 

"I am, and I did ask to be alone," he admitted before rewarding you with a weak smile. "But your presence is always welcome. Is it time?"

"Almost." The thick carpet muffled the sound of your footsteps while you made your way into the dim, cool interior of the tent. "Your squire promised to come and fetch you when the Master of Revels calls you and the prince to the lists. Is there anything you need, ser?"

"Just stay a little while," implored Arthur. "At least until they call me to the lists."

You look back to the entrance of the tent. The campgrounds had been empty; everyone had crammed themselves into whatever seat they could find in the viewing stands, their cheers rising like a great wave. Still, it was too great a risk. No one besides Ser Owell and Ser Gerold knew about you and your white knight, and should word reach wagging tongues, reputations would be dragged through the mud and ruined. 

"If someone came upon us," you cautioned, "if someone walks in here and finds me with you—"

"No one will come upon us," Arthur swore, and he took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Please. Y/n. Stay with me."

Lavender eyes worn down by many cares filled with silent pleading. You look back at the entrance again. Not a soul could be seen or heard. You took a deep, steadying breath and inched closer. Arthur surprised you by tugging on your hand and pulling you onto his lap.

Sparks spread just beneath your skin even as you giggled and said, "You forget yourself, ser."

Vivid lavender eyes darkened for a moment. "Only when I am with you," Arthur answered. "Now tell me, sweet lady. Will you reward me in every way possible if I emerge victorious?"

"Arthur!" A flash of heat crept up your throat and bloomed in your cheeks. "You should not speak of such things! What if someone hears?"

Arthur chuckled as he reached for you. A large, calloused hand caressed your cheek and then played with your hair. The warmth from his touch made you sigh wistfully and press your cheek against his palm.

"No one will hear," Arthur reminded you, "because everyone is waiting for the final tilt to start."

You look up at him and find rare amusement glinting in his oft-sad eyes. And he was right. No one was around, and precious moments like this were already few and far between.

"Well," you began, "since you put it that way, ser, I will first reward you with a dance."

"Several," Arthur insists, grinning wickedly. "And I insist you join me for sweet summer wine. After that–"

He dipped his head and pressed his lips over yours. Arthur held you in a loose embrace while he kissed you hungrily, and kissed you until you quivered against cold armor. The dark stubble on his cheeks was coarse when it brushed against your skin, but his lips and tongue tasted sweet.

It was a long, lingering kiss, one that turned your bones to water. Arthur crushed you hard against him when you moaned in pleasure and returned his kiss with equal fire. He grew drunk on the sweet sounds that you made, how you yielded and unraveled completely. And he had to end it, lest either of you forget yourselves completely. Arthur withdrew, albeit reluctantly, before resting his forehead against yours.  

"Dances," he repeated, his voice thick and hoarse. "And new summer wine. And more. So much more. Is this agreeable to you?"

You considered his request: to dance and sample new summer wine before escaping to a quiet corner no one knew of so the two of you could do more than embrace and kiss. 

"Yes," you decide. Distant cheers and applause reached a thunderous crescendo. The final tilt was about to start. "To all of it. I agree to all of it." 

[forthegothicheroine]

Do you have any thoughts about how to do fascism in Arthuriana? Like partially inspired by T.H. White I was thinking of writing Lucius as a sort of combination of a 30s Dictator and the crusading ideal that you get in Medieval literature, which of course looks quite repugnant by today's standards.

I've been turning this over in my head for a few days as it's a very interesting question! To start, let me talk about two versions that did it to different ends.

As you mentioned, in The Once and Future King, Mordred becomes a Hitler (or British fascist) analogue, and predicates his rise to power on persecuting Jews and Moors. I wasn't sure how I felt about this at first, but after thinking it over, I realized that World War II was the defining trauma of White's generation, and if he's going to write about a political faction destroying Britain and plunging it into apocalyptic war, how could they not be fascists? (Plus I got a fanfic out of it.)

On the other hand, in the 2004 King Arthur movie, which I actually overall enjoyed, they made Cerdic the Saxon their fascist villain. He orders all the Celtic women killed so that his men won't breed with them and produce more of their disgusting race...which, if you know anything about the Saxon invasion, is more or less the opposite of how it went. It's like a darker version of the 'tightlacing into dresses without waists' scene in Bridgerton- I'm not a stickler for historical accuracy, but I need it to at least make sense in the world that's being presented to me on screen.

So, what's the deal with fascism? I'll let Umberto Eco give the greater picture, but when I think of fascist villains, I think of three things- an "us" who is great, a "them" who are simultaneously weak and strong, and a mythic "good old days" that never really existed. Given that Arthuriana is a mishmash of time periods and ethnic groups as it is, you have a lot to choose from, both in terms of making it make sense in universe, and in terms of it feeling resonant to a 21st century reader.

If Lucius is your villain (a good choice, I think, he's not used as much as he could be) then you're positioning the "us" as either Rome or Italy. I say "either" because Malory et al had him as an anachronistic Roman emperor, but the Squires Tales series made the interesting choice of him being an Italian prince styling himself the modern Caesar. I'm not Italian, but I think this is something that politicians from Mussolini to Berlusconi have tried to position themselves as to some extent, so I think there's room to explore there.

If "us" is Rome, then "them" must be wherever they're trying to conquer. If you've ever played Fallout New Vegas, the Cosplay Roman Fascists there have "The West" as their enemy, with speeches about how they're doing a great job unifying all the disparate tribes but are hindered by the "degenerates" of the NCR and New Vegas. There are certainly tribes to go around in the British isles, any of which could be your "them" or your "future us, once then kneel." The good old days were the height of the Empire, of course, and depending on whether your Lucius is a Catholic or a Roman pagan, he can call upon a huge history of grandiose mythology to support himself.

If Mordred is your villain, then both his mythic past and his "us" could harken back to the glory days of King Uther, back when the Britons were strong against the Saxons and kings were revered for their might, not their codes of honor. The song Fie on Goodness in Camelot is dark comedy because nobody really talks like that about themselves- but they could voice the same sentiments in different language. "Them" could be Jews and Moors as in T. H. White, but you can pick any influence from the Picts to the Gauls as the simultaneously weak and strong enemy who turned Arthur into a man too soft to lead.

"Uther was a barbarian because he stole another man's wife," Mordred might say, "but Arthur claims to be civilized because he gives his away!"

And then there's that old medieval standbye- the crusades. Just what the hell time period Arthuriana takes place in changes with the writer, but having your villain either outright be a Crusader King or modeling him on one would give you a chilling model to work with. Slaughter and pillage all who get in your way, and you can justify it with ideology. Send every available one of your own men and boys to their deaths and you can do the same. And if the war never ends, so much the better, as your wartime powers never go away.

Thank you for this question, and I'll be very eager to see what you come up with!

[mllemaenad]

Hi! I was wondering - that Maxson thing you quoted in the Super Mutants post. I was wondering what's your take on that whole little 'history of Arthur Maxson' set of entries on that terminal, because you're generally really good at analysing these things like historical documents (I loved your work on that in Dragon Age). I guess I just want to know how much of it is likely to be bullshit, and which parts are bullshit around a kernel of truth.

Oh, sure, I can have a stab at that, if you like. I am ... going to put the cut in now, because even the document itself is quite long.

The Rise of Elder Maxson Opening Notes These entries are my attempt at writing a timeline documenting Elder Maxson's rise within the ranks of the Brotherhood. It's my sincerest wish that these entries will one day be compiled in a classic printed book format and distributed throughout the Wasteland. Long live Elder Maxson and long live the Brotherhood! Background Despite the defeat of the Enclave in the Capital Wasteland, the Brotherhood of Steel was still an organization divided. The Outcasts, a splinter faction that left the safety of the Citadel, still struggled to survive in the Capital Wasteland, separated from their parent organization. And while some of the Brotherhood members within the Citadel had no desire to reunite with their "disgraced" brothers, many saw the advantage in bolstering their own forces with warriors already trained and indoctrinated by the Brotherhood of Steel. Surely they could work out any… philosophical issues? Enter Maxson Enter Arthur Maxson, young squire to both Owyn and Sarah Lyons, and descendant of the very founder of the Brotherhood of Steel, Roger Maxson. When Elder Owyn Lyons died, care of young Arthur Maxson passed to Sarah Lyons, Owyn's daughter, who was then named Elder in his place. But when Sarah fell in battle shortly thereafter, things became complicated. The Brotherhood of Steel based in the Citadel found itself in need of leadership, and began appointing one ineffective Elder after another. Accomplishments As the years passed, and Arthur Maxson grew, so too did his accomplishments. At age 12, while on a training patrol, he killed two Raiders and saved the squad that was supposed to be escorting him. At age age 13, he single-handedly killed a Deathclaw (and gained the large facial scar he still has to this day). But it was his victory at age 15, over the Super Mutant "Shepherd" who was attempting to re-organize the Capital Wasteland's Super Mutants, that elevated him to hero-like status. When word of this feat reached the Elders back on the West Coast, they knew the time had come… Maxson was ready. Ready to lead and, more importantly, to reunite the fragmented Brotherhood of Steel forces on the East Coast. Our New Leader So it was that a year later, when he was only 16 years old, Arthur Maxson brokered a peace with the Outcasts, re-integrating them into the Brotherhood of Steel, and proving he was as effective a diplomat as he was a warrior. Now re-united, the full force of the Brotherhood of Steel appointed Arthur Maxson as Elder… the youngest in Brotherhood of Steel history. Aftermath Elder Maxson reigns supreme in the Capital Wasteland, and his authority and influence have been spreading across the Eastern Seaboard, thanks in no small part by the mobility afforded by the Prydwen. He has the full support of the Elders back on the West Coast, who have proudly reported that they've begun eradicating cults that have popped up, worshipping Maxson as though he's some kind of god. Maxson himself is almost offended by the idea of being referred to as a deity, as it goes against everything he believes in. Arthur Maxson is happy to be one thing… the perfect human specimen, an example of everything a human being can achieve. Assisted, even enhanced, by advanced technology, but still very much human. – The Rise of Elder Maxson, Proctor Quinlan's terminal, Fallout 4

First question: who is writing this? Proctor Quinlan is a Brotherhood of Steel scribe, meaning he's a professional researcher. That certainly sounds like a promising start. But Quinlan is also the contact for the quest Getting Technical, wherein the Sole Survivor collects technical documents for the Brotherhood, meaning he expresses various ... opinions about the kind of books that are worth preserving.

My responsibility aboard the Prydwen is to sort through the books discovered by our recovery teams and extract pertinent information from them. It's tedious work, since most of the volumes are a waste of paper… works of fiction, poetry… you understand. There are other scribes within the Brotherhood that consider fictional material essential, but I refuse to allow them aboard this vessel. If they don't expand the Brotherhood's technological knowledge, they're useless. Technical volumes, repair manuals, design philosophies, medical research… anything that enhances the Brotherhood's knowledge. That's why I consider everything else a waste of paper. – Proctor Quinlan Dialogue, Fallout 4

He seems to have a particular vendetta against fiction, but it's noteworthy that history and biography aren't on his list of acceptable volumes either. So he seems to be writing history without having a lot of respect for the craft.

His attitude, and this quest, seem to a reference to – and a bit of a dig at – Scribe Yearling and the Yearning for Learning quest she offered in Fallout 3. Yearling just asked for "pre-war books", so presumably she was collecting the various things Quinlan calls a "waste of paper".

Now, we also know Quinlan is a bit of a comic book fan:

Proctor Quinlan: Damn it scribe, I told you I didn't want the corners bent. The issues were to be in mint condition! Scribe Naceri: I'm sorry, Proctor, but this is the only limited edition annual we've recovered. Even before the bombs fell, this was the rarest issue… the one where Grognak dies and comes back to life. Proctor Quinlan: Yes, scribe… I've read the 2076 Underlane Price Guide from cover to cover, so I'm well aware of its past value. The fault for this travesty rests squarely on your shoulders because you chose to ignore the important lesson I taught you. Which is…? Scribe Naceri: Always bag and board. I'm sorry, sir. You're absolutely right, and I promise it will never… Um, sir? What's that red blinking light on your terminal? Proctor Quinlan: What? Oh, damn all… I left it in record mode. Just let me… – Quinlan to Be Deleted, Fallout 4

Ordinarily I wouldn't judge someone for a guilty pleasure, and I see no issue with keeping his comic book collection separate from the Brotherhood's official archives ... but this is a bit rich, after all the harping on the uselessness of fiction. So now we also know Quinlan is comfortable with hypocrisy.

And we have remarks like these:

Sole Survivor: He'll [Danse] be missed. Quinlan: Doubtful. I wouldn't "miss" a synth any sooner than I'd miss a transistor radio. I was merely sorry that you'd been duped. No matter. ... Quinlan: I'm not sure I like how your Ghoul is eying my quarters. I'd appreciate you removing him. – Proctor Quinlan Dialogue, Fallout 4

So ... we're not looking at a freethinker here, either. I don't mean that Quinlan is stupid, but he's clearly not a person who spends a lot of time interrogating the evidence around him and coming to independent conclusions. He happily spouts the Brotherhood party line – even when you're talking about the death of a long-time colleague. Danse stopped being a person to Quinlan the moment he was revealed as a synth.

Our author is not especially trustworthy, so we have good reason to be suspicious of this text.

Second question: Why is he writing this? This one is easy, because he tells us:

It's my sincerest wish that these entries will one day be compiled in a classic printed book format and distributed throughout the Wasteland.

This isn't a passion project by a devoted historian; nor is it intended to be an history internal to the Brotherhood, to remind them of who they are and what they've done. This is a propaganda piece, intended to inspire fear and awe in the wastelanders.

And that explains an awful lot about how this reads. I would not expect a Brotherhood source to offer up a lot of significant criticism of their current Elder – Brotherhood members who disagreed with Owyn Lyons tended to be pretty circumspect about it – but even a very positive biography might be expected to contain some discussion of a person's flaws and setbacks, even if only to say how well he overcame them.

Quinlan doesn't cite his sources, explain how he knows things or even go into any useful detail anywhere. It's important to know what sort of text we're dealing with: this isn't history, or even biography; it's panegyric. So you get crap like this:

Arthur Maxson is happy to be one thing… the perfect human specimen, an example of everything a human being can achieve.

I don't even know what you do with that, except maybe throw up a little bit. Come on, Quinlan, if you licked that boot any harder you'd sprain your tongue.

So: the purpose of this text is to present Arthur Maxson as an unstoppable hero to the people of the wasteland. It is light on details, high on praise, and incredibly dubious.

Third question: given all that, what can we do with this tripe?

There are some pros and cons here. The big con is that sources on the post-Fallout 3 Capital Wasteland are pretty thin. There's some dialogue from Deacon, MacCready and Madison Li that ... do not, largely, present a positive image of the Brotherhood's actions there. But they are not presenting a history or a chronicle, just remarking on things as they seem relevant.

The big pro is, well, Fallout 3 exists. Which means we have a significant amount of context for the stuff going on here, so it's not impossible to at least make some educated guesses.

Let's look at the politics first, starting with the reuinification of Lyons's Brotherhood with the Outcasts.

So it was that a year later, when he was only 16 years old, Arthur Maxson brokered a peace with the Outcasts, re-integrating them into the Brotherhood of Steel, and proving he was as effective a diplomat as he was a warrior.

The conflict between the Brotherhood and the Outcasts is a real thing. The Lone Wanderer can meet and deal with the Outcast faction in Fallout 3, and the Operation Anchorage DLC specifically deals with their technology hunt. So we know that part is not complete bullshit. It's only mostly bullshit. Quinlan puts "disgraced" in scare quotes, so if he's not a former Outcast himself he's certainly sympathetic to their position. Make no mistake: they were a disgrace in Fallout 3. Operation Anchorage actually ends with yet another schism in their ranks, because most of the Outcasts don't want to pay the Lone Wanderer for helping them deal with their simulation problem. They're quite awful people. But that's not how we're telling this story here, and that is ... interesting.

So what do we actually know?

There used to be two factions of Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland, Lyons's Brotherhood and the Outcasts. Now there is one.

In Fallout 3 the East Coast Brotherhood is completely cut off from the West Coast Brotherhood. They haven't heard from them in years:

Rothchild: For years he'd try and persuade them to send reinforcements and supplies, all the while stringing them along, saying he was sticking to the mission. Finally, things came to a head. Lyons directly refused orders, and so the West Coast cut us off. No communications, no reinforcements. – Scribe Rothchild Dialogue, Fallout 3

At some point at least one of those groups re-established contact with the West Coast:

When word of this feat reached the Elders back on the West Coast, they knew the time had come… Maxson was ready. Ready to lead and, more importantly, to reunite the fragmented Brotherhood of Steel forces on the East Coast.

The West Coast Brotherhood backed Maxson's bid to become elder but more importantly (Quinlan's words, not mine) wanted the kids to stop fighting. Why?

Well, by this point the West Coast Brotherhood was entrenched in conflict with the NCR. And they were getting their arses kicked. When we meet them in Fallout: New Vegas they've retreated to their bunker after the rout at HELIOS One.

And while it's not anybody's main concern over in New Vegas, the Brotherhood is clearly invested enough in the state of the East Coast Brotherhood that even Veronica, the quasi-exile, has heard the gossip:

Veronica: We've had people go rogue, though, and start helping people. One chapter had a small civil war over it. We take our isolationism seriously. – Veronica Dialogue, Fallout: New Vegas

So if the West Coast got the East Coast on the phone and found out they had: a) a massive amount of scrap at their disposal, b) some revolutionary tech under their control, c) an airship, albeit not one capable of long distance travel, d) a sizeable number of soldiers on hand, and the good will to recruit more from the Capital Wasteland, if the West Coast Brotherhood can accept that ... and the only problem is that half the kids won't get on the damn bus ...

Well, at that point there's going to be a lot of pressure from the West Coast to bring the Outcasts back in, and get the hell back to California before the Brotherhood loses everything.

When they are reunited, the Brotherhood retrofits their airship to allow it to travel longer distances, and sets off. They are definitely in the Commonwealth to steal some stuff, fight the Institute and ruin everyone's day, sure, but this also reads as something of a trial run for a longer journey

Fr: Proctor Ingram IG-444PR To: Elder Maxson MX-001E As you know, in order to get the Prydwen rapidly to the Commonwealth, I had my engineering team pull her older power plant and replace it with an updated fusion plant we pulled from that aircraft carrier wreckage. I was able to squeeze almost one hundred percent efficiency from the new reactor, but the system is burning through our coolant supply faster than expected. As we've been docked over the airport, I've been able to deactivate the main engines to cool down the reactor, but we're still eating up coolant when we're in hover mode. We're eventually going to hit a point where we'll run out of coolant. If that happens, we'll need to put the Prydwen on the ground. I desperately need your help if you want to prevent that from happening. I'll be certain to provide you with the details at our next briefing. – Arthur Maxson's Terminal, Email, Fallout 4

There's clearly no way they're getting the Prydwen to California easily in her current state, and Ingram is busily trying to figure out how they can keep flying around in this thing without it exploding. But the key thing is that they get there: we see the airship reach California in the television series, so that's their final destination.

So, frankly, this is less about Arthur Maxson's extraordinary leadership skills and more about the fact that the Brotherhood was in crisis across America. There would have been tremendous pressure from the West Coast to reunite and head home, and there have always been people in Lyons's Brotherhood who would have preferred to bring the Outcasts back:

Rothchild: We live and die by our dedication to the Brotherhood. To go against orders… It's not something that's done. I appreciate that Lyons believes he is doing what is right, but he should never have disobeyed orders. And now look where it's gotten us. Forces dwindled, Super Mutants on one side, Enclave on the other. We can barely take care of ourselves. Lines of communication were severed years ago. The Western Elders have washed their hands of us. – Scribe Rothchild Dialogue, Fallout 3

That's Owyn Lyons's best friend. And there are indications that someone was whispering poison in Arthur's ear, even in childhood:

Arthur Maxson: Oh, well… You see, I am descended from the great Roger Maxson, founder of our order. I am the last of his line. They say my soul was forged from eternal steel, but I don't believe that. I'm really just a normal boy. I was sent to the Citadel many years ago, to be fostered by Elder Lyons. But that was before the Western Elders lost, um… faith… in the Elder. – Arthur Maxson Dialogue, Fallout 3

Who's been telling you this crap, Arthur? Who's been saying your "soul was forged from eternal steel"? Who's been whispering to you about the Western Brotherhood's lack of faith in Elder Lyons? It's unlikely to be the Outcasts as they wouldn't have had access. But if Outcast sympathisers had their hooks in him this early, it's not surprising where he ended up. I don't like Arthur Maxson the man ... but I have considerable pity for the child.

This pressure seems to have led to the Brotherhood capitulating almost entirely to the Outcasts' demands. We are back on the "hoarding tech for ourselves and telling everyone else to get fucked" train.

Doctor Li: I was tired of being stepped on and used by the Brotherhood. First there was the water purification project, designed to freely benefit the entire Capital Wasteland. Even though the Brotherhood allowed it to be activated, they wanted to control it. Then there were other, more classified projects. Always using my work as weapons of war. I simply had enough. – Madison Li Dialogue, Fallout 4

And the Outcasts very much get to claim victory. They get to say they were right. Owyn Lyons is at best forgotten, and at worst derided as an idiot.

Danse: A decade ago, the Brotherhood had almost gone completely astray. The Elder before Maxson sent us down a path that was leading nowhere… he was more concerned about charity than the preservation of technology. But when Maxson took over, he single-handedly re-prioritized the Brotherhood from the ground up and put us back on the path to glory. This ship and its crew are a testament to his leadership. – Paladin Danse Dialogue, Fallout 4

Danse should bloody know better. He was there. But indoctrination is a Brotherhood technique. You don't talk about what really happened.

Arthur Maxson is primarily useful to all of this because he's Roger Maxson's heir. He's an excellent figurehead to put atop this "reuinited Brotherhood", which is basically just bowing to pressure from the West Coast. And he's, you know, sixteen, so he knows fuck all. He didn't have to be good at anything. He just had to be willing to sell out the people who raised him for a fancy title and a ridiculous coat. Which he did. So here we are. Ad fucking Victoriam.

The biggest takeaway from that part is that Quinlan focuses almost entirely on Arthur's personal victories in battle. Those things have absolutely nothing to do with his leadership ability.

None of the notable leaders of the Brotherhood of Steel became so because they were considered stellar at single combat. Roger Maxson's virtue was having the foresight to keep his people safe in the early days of the apocalypse. He wasn't out there shooting mutants in the head – he was bringing the families of the soldiers into the safety of the base and organising the trek to the Lost Hills bunker. John Maxson, his grandson, aided the Vault Dweller in bringing down the Master's army – his scribes provided the research that proved the super mutants were sterile and he sent knights along as backup to Mariposa ... and Owyn Lyons worked with the Lone Wanderer to complete the water purifier and defeat the Enclave.

What Quinlan is doing is not talking about that. So: the reunification of the Brotherhood is clearly historical fact, but everything else smells quite off to me.

Moving on to the general state of the Capital Wasteland.

Elder Maxson reigns supreme in the Capital Wasteland, and his authority and influence have been spreading across the Eastern Seaboard, thanks in no small part by the mobility afforded by the Prydwen.

I think we can say with reasonable confidence that the Brotherhood would have had considerable influence and power after the fall of the Enclave in the Capital Wasteland. We know that they were, by wasteland standards, absurdly rich:

She was constructed at Adam's Air Force Base just outside of Washington D.C. There was a vast amount of scrap metal and salvageable components there after we defeated the Enclave. We spent the first two years alone gathering the parts. The rest was spent assembling. – Lancer Captain Kells Dialogue, Fallout 4

... and to be fair, wiping out the Enclave would likely have bought them some good will, at least in the short term. However, it seems like they burned through that fairly quickly. We have Madison Li, as an example: she became disgruntled because they were using her to build weapons. By the end of Fallout 3 the Enclave was in disarray and the source of the FEV generating all the super mutants had been located. So why the fuck were they escalating a conflict?

Well, dialogue from MacCready suggests that they had clamped down pretty hard and, as they leaned more and more into the Outcasts' way of doing things, became a menace to the population:

MacCready: I really hope you know what you're doing. The Brotherhood guys… they aren't playing cards with a full deck. Get in the way of their technological crusade, and they'll knock you down without even blinking. – Robert MacCready Dialogue, Fallout 4

MacCready was a child during the events of Fallout 3 – actually, he's slightly older than Arthur Maxson – and would have done his growing up in the aftermath of Broken Steel. And (aside from occasional admiration for their firepower) he has nothing good to say about them.

MacCready: When I was a kid, I heard stories about Liberty Prime Junior stomping around the Captial Wasteland. By helping the Brotherhood bring it back, you're unleashing a mechanical monster into the Commonwealth. – Robert MacCready Dialogue, Fallout 4

While I agree with a lot of what Deacon says, as a member of the Railroad you might reasonably say he's a biased source; likewise, while I take Madison's opinions seriously you can certainly argue a personal grievance might make her somewhat unfair. MacCready has no cause: he'd like to make a few caps and find a cure for his son. And his general opinion of the Brotherhood of Steel, having grown up under their power is: oh fuck no.

Aside from tech, we see from Teagan's behaviour in Fallout 4 that the Brotherhood are absolutely not above stealing from local settlements to feed their troops:

Proctor Teagan: Those farmers give you any trouble, I trust you know what to do. – Proctor Teagan Dialogue, Fallout 4

It's ugly, but it makes sense: the Brotherhood is an army without a nation. They don't grow crops, herd brahmin or even build factories to produce goods for trade. They're resistant to mercenary work and helping people is a contentious issue, with the Outcasts back in charge. We know they purchase from traders, sometimes ... but traders are unlikely to have the kid of bulk supplies an army of this size would need. That's not a problem that just appears out of nowhere in Fallout 4: it would be ongoing.

With Deacon in mind, I keep thinking of that line:

Deacon: I never really much cared for the Minutemen. The idea sounds great. But you give small men big power and sometimes you'll pay for it. – Deacon Dialogue, Fallout 4

Of course, the Brotherhood of Steel have been a thing out west for ages, but you couldn't expect a Commonwealth boy to know a lot about the politics in California. And while undeniably closer the business of Taggerdy's Thunder and the Scorched Plague would be ancient history by the time of Fallout 4. But Deacon would know that a band of soldiers came east. He'd know that they protected people for a while – imperfectly, sure, but you can give some credit for good intentions. And he'd know that they won a tremendous battle, which gave them big power, and then ...

Deacon: The Brotherhood… well, I met them on an op in Capital Wasteland a few years back. But now with Elder Maxson… Let's just say, not a fan. – Deacon Dialogue, Fallout 4

We also know that the Prydwen is the main source of their power: when any of the other factions come into conflict with the Brotherhood, getting rid of that thing immediately becomes a priority. So at least for the last five years, the Brotherhood has been able to expand their influence along the east coast using their monstrosity of an airship.

I'm inclined to think this part is mostly true, except that Quinlan paints Brotherhood control of the Capital Wasteland as a good thing, whereas the non-Brotherhood characters indicate that it's actually fucking awful to live under their rule. This does not surprise me. I cannot think of an alliance they haven't burned at some point.

The bright spot here is that it does look as though they were recalled. So they have brought most, if not all, of their troops (and certainly the Prydwen) first to the Commonwealth and then to California. A reduced Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland would not be invincible, and the locals might be able to kick them out completely. We'll see.

The Capital Wasteland, super mutants:

But it was his victory at age 15, over the Super Mutant "Shepherd" who was attempting to re-organize the Capital Wasteland's Super Mutants, that elevated him to hero-like status.

Honestly, this bit makes me suspicious without there being anything there I can prove one way or another.

The first thing that bugs me is that Quinlan doesn't say anything about the circumstances in which Arthur killed Shepherd. He talks about him defending his escort from raiders and he talks about him being badly injured in his battle with the deathclaw ... but he says nothing at all about this fight with a super mutant. If, for example, he could say that Shepherd and his mutant army were assailing Rivet City and Arthur slew their leader before he could take the bridge ... well, he'd say that. Because that would be cool. But he doesn't say anything. Just that Arthur Maxson was somehow "victorious" over him.

So ... what happened there? And, given that it was a super mutant, would the Brotherhood distinguish between an actual battle and, say, a murder?

The second thing that bugs me is that "Shepherd" is an odd name for a warlord. It could be, of course, but this isn't actual history. It's fiction, told through dialogue and made up historical records. And in that scenario if something sounds weird it probably is. Plenty of super mutants just have normal names – Marcus, Lily, Gail – which may just be the names they have always had (certainly, in Lily's case). Other super mutants take names to make themselves sound tough – Fist, Hammer, Strong. Fawkes borrowed his name from Guy Fawkes, because he admired the man's conviction. So "Shepherd", with the religious connotations that would be attached to the primarily Christian America ... sounds like a damn odd name for a warlord to choose.

And lastly, the word Quinlan uses for Shepherd's activities is organise. Not rally or arm. He does not say he is building an army. It is an oddly neutral word that might mean anything. And the thing is: the super mutants of the Capital Wasteland were not organised. Not at all. They had some camps scattered about, but they were pretty rudimentary affairs. Organise could mean lead to violence ... but you could also say Marcus organised the super mutants at Broken Hills and Jacobstown, and in that case it meant built peaceful settlements.

We know at least two super mutants, Fawkes and Leo, objected to the violence against humans. Either might be a candidate for "Shepherd", although Fawkes would obviously be the more forceful leader. And if there were two, it does not seem unreasonable to me that there might have been others – people who were driven away when the conflict with the Brotherhood was at its height, but who might have returned later.

So this might have been a righteous victory. It might also have been the slaughter of someone trying to help. Someone trying to lead the super mutants away from violence. I don't believe the Brotherhood would distinguish.

Danse: Anyway, about a year after we were posted to the Prydwen, Cutler vanished on a scouting op. It took some convincing, but I was able to persuade my CO to let me assemble a squad and search for him. It took almost three weeks, but we tracked his team down to a Super Mutant hive. Those wretched abominations had slaughtered everyone but Cutler. He should have been so lucky. The mutant bastards used their FEV to change him into one of their own kind. He wasn't Cutler anymore. I had to… it was my duty to… put him down. – Paladin Danse Dialogue, Fallout 4

While I have no doubt that Danse genuinely believed he did his duty there ... I have often wondered how necessary Cutler's death was. After all, Danse must have recognised him, and super mutants don't typically look like their human selves. It might just have been a dog tag, but with dead Brotherhood soldiers and the more violent kind of super mutants involved you'd expect body parts and dog tags all over the place – and Danse is certain this super mutant was Cutler. So I wonder.

This is also why I wonder about Arthur Maxson's "victory" over Shepherd. Because the Brotherhood believe all mutants are abominations, you can't tell from their sources what any specific one they slaughtered was doing. And the lack of details make me suspicious.

But these are only suspicions. They're not proof.

Right, so, last and probably least because honestly who cares – the prowess of Arthur Maxson.

As the years passed, and Arthur Maxson grew, so too did his accomplishments. At age 12, while on a training patrol, he killed two Raiders and saved the squad that was supposed to be escorting him. At age age 13, he single-handedly killed a Deathclaw (and gained the large facial scar he still has to this day). But it was his victory at age 15, over the Super Mutant "Shepherd" who was attempting to re-organize the Capital Wasteland's Super Mutants, that elevated him to hero-like status. ... He has the full support of the Elders back on the West Coast, who have proudly reported that they've begun eradicating cults that have popped up, worshipping Maxson as though he's some kind of god. Maxson himself is almost offended by the idea of being referred to as a deity, as it goes against everything he believes in.

To be completely fair to our Arthur, we have reason to believe he was a decent shot. Owyn Lyons certainly thought so:

Squire Maxson's training is proceeding well, and the boy certainly has an aptitude for small arms. But I often worry about his emotional state. He is child surrounded by killers, being groomed to become a killer himself. Maybe I've become too cynical, too soft in my old age, but I wish I could give the boy a more normal childhood. Ironic, considering his upbringing is so much like my own. Maybe that's what scares me. – Owyn Lyons's Terminal, Squire Maxson Progress Report, Fallout 3

And we know that Sarah Lyons took him out with her, at least once:

Lone Wanderer:They don't actually… make you fight. Do they? Arthur Maxson: No. But I could! I know I'm ready! I mean, it would be scary, but… It's not fair that I have to sit inside while the knights go on patrol! I did go out one time, you know! Sarah… Um… Sentinel Lyons took me out. Just to show me. I killed a Super Mutant, too! I swear! I, um… I also sort of shot Sarah. But just a little! It was just a flesh wound… – Arthur Maxson Dialogue, Fallout 3

I'm inclined to believe he at least helped to kill a super mutant. He was ten years old, he was very excited about it, and while he was embarrassed about it he did admit to accidentally shooting Sarah, so he had not yet developed too much of an ego to admit his faults. Poor kid should never have been out there, but he was, and the results seem mixed: he might well have hit his target, but he also hit his tutor.

It seems reasonable enough that his hand would have got steadier as he got older, and they were dragging him into the field. But I think it's also fair to note that this kid would have been very well protected. No one wants to be the knight that let the heir of Roger Maxson get eaten by a feral ghoul, you know? So I suspect some exaggeration in all this.

If two raiders were a significant threat to a squad of Brotherhood knights, that was a spectacularly shit squad. While I don't like the Brotherhood, I'm pretty sure they can outshoot the average Capital Wasteland raider. With the exception of the slavers, those people were not well armed or well organised. We're not looking at the Great Khans, here. So I'm more than willing to believe young Arthur Maxson shot a couple of raiders. But I question whether that constituted "saving" his protectors.

Likewise, if he made the killing blow on a deathclaw – how many knights stood between him and it? How many distracted it and got torn to bits to allow him to do that? No one is standing by and letting the thirteen year old – and I say this again – heir of Roger Maxson just get his face torn off by a deathclaw.

But the thing is? I'm damn sure Arthur believes his own hype. The West Coast Brotherhood may be slapping down cultists amongst their number, but I don't believe for a second that Arthur is offended by it. Why? Because he named his damn ship the Prydwen. What's the Prydwen? It's King Arthur's ship, with whom our young Elder Maxson happens to share a name. And who is King Arthur? He's the once and future king, that's who. He will come again in Britain's greatest hour of need.

What's the Prydwen doing? It's headed to California. No one in the Capital Wasteland or Commonwealth is going to care if you name your ship after that of a legendary British king – but back in California where there are (or at least were :( ) libraries and universities – and where the Brotherhood idolises the name of Maxson ... yeah, I think they'll figure out the reference. Arthur Maxson is selling himself as Roger Maxson come again, and in the Brotherhood's hour of need.

And while I don't know exactly what the Brotherhood in the TV series were doing ...

Where did this come from? I've never seen the do that.

... that's a fun new ritual I've never seen them do before. Might look a little bit like one of those cults got off the ground. If little baby Elder Maxson were looking to become High Elder Maxson ... well, that might be one way to do it.

So, to summarise:

Proctor Quinlan is not a great source. He's very pro-Brotherhood, disgustingly biased toward Arthur Maxson and shows little interest in the study of historical texts. Nevertheless, he is a trained researcher and he should have access to primary sources on most of what he's saying, so I suppose he could be a worse source.

The Rise of Elder Maxson is explicitly a piece of propaganda, intended to be distributed across the wasteland. It should not be read as an accurate and objective account of anything. I have been using the Fandom wiki to copy the terminal entries and, while I thoroughly appreciate their thoroughness on that point I'm now looking at the actual article on Arthur Maxson, and I'm a tad bemused that it seems to use this as a source uncritically.

We can confirm a number of high level things from other sources: the Outcasts and Lyons's Brotherhood seem to have reunited, and the Outcasts' ideology is apparently at the forefront of the organisation these days. The Brotherhood seems to have been throwing their weight around in the Capital Wasteland. Arthur did know how to use a gun as a child (although maybe not that well).

The idea that any of this is positive or good is purely a reflection of Quinlan's attitudes and the attitudes of the Brotherhood of Steel in general. When other characters who are either from, or have visited, the Capital Wasteland they are significantly less positive.

Arthur Maxson seems to have used the Outcasts to gain power, and is leaning hard into the glory of his heritage in order to hold onto that power and gain more. Quinlan's text mostly indicates that he has not done a lot as a leader, with his primary achievements being in the realm of physical combat.

So ... a lot of bullshit, but not total bullshit.

[sonicstorybook]

The King's Champion

A SatBK AU where Shadow is the one sent to Camelot and Sonic is the doppelgänger- the one and only King Arthur!

Part: 4/4

Summary: Arthur the Hedgehog pulled the legendary sword Caliburn from the stone, and he became King Arthur, the ruler of Camelot. Shadow the Hedgehog appears in a flash of magic in the middle of his banquet hall, and he becomes Arthur’s problem. As the sun rises over the kingdom, a pre-dawn conversation between both hedgehogs also helps them reach... well, not quite a mutual understanding, but progress is progress!

(Shadow doesn’t know where he is, what’s going on, or why he’s there- but it doesn’t matter. He’s Shadow the Hedgehog, the world’s ultimate life form, and he’s going to play this weird game by his rules.)

Contains: Pre-relationship/platonic Arthadow (Arthur the Hedgehog x Shadow the Hedgehog)! Lamorak (Jet the Hawk) and Percival (Blaze the Cat) are siblings! Gawain (Knuckles the Echidna) and Gareth (Mighty the Armadillo) are siblings! Gawain and Gareth are Yvain’s (Ray the Flying Squirrel) cousins! Kay (Scourge the Hedgehog) is Arthur’s adopted brother!

Rating: G

Word count: 2,252

Note: The close of the first chapter of Shadow’s stay in Camelot! C: Will there be more? Yes, because I have no self-control. C,:

Reminder of characters: Sir Kay is Scourge the Hedgehog! Sir Gareth is Mighty the Armadillo!  Sir Yvain is Ray the (Flying?) Squirrel! Percy is Percival the Squire, aka Blaze the Cat! 

All chatter ends and the courtyard is deathly quiet as everyone collectively holds their breath, certain they must have misheard Shadow just now… but the black hedgehog doubles down.

“You heard me,” Shadow repeats, turning to face Gawain with a challenging arch of his brow, “Lancelot can keep his Queen- I’ll take the King.”

“What!?“ Half a dozen voices cry out at once. Arthur barely manages to contain his own surprise, whipping his head to look at Shadow so quickly he almost flings the circlet off his head. 

Shadow does not flinch under the heavy weight of the stares, cool and determined with a haughty hand on his hip.

“Shadow,” Arthur wishes he had a moment with Shadow alone to explain what the black hedgehog was getting himself into, tenting his hands in front of his face thoughtfully, “Once again, I am asking you to reconsider this request. That is no light commitment or task. Are you sure this is what you truly want?”

“I’m going to prove that I am superior to this Lancelot in every possible way,” Although Shadow says Lancelot’s name, the challenging glare he levels in Arthur’s direction indicates that Camelot’s king is included as well, “By the end of it, all of you will be comparing Lancelot to me.”

“You are completely mad if you think the king will accept such outlandish demands!” Gawain is so worked up he throws his hand out, hitting the unfortunate Sir Yvain in the chest with his barbed knuckles. The yellow squirrel is knocked off his feet and into Sir Gareth behind him, who barely manages to keep them both upright, “Who are you?! What are your designs on our king?! Are you a spy or assassin?!”

“I am Shadow the Hedgehog, the world’s ultimate life form,” Shadow is arrogantly self-assured as he literally turns his nose up at Gawain, “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t care about you or this kingdom. And if I wanted your King dead, there’s nothing you could do to stop me!”

“You churl-!”

It’s very clear that Shadow and Gawain are about to start slinging hotheaded boasts, vicious insults, and blows again. But before Arthur can try to restore order, aid comes from an unexpected source.

“Hah! You are a saucy one!” Sir Lamorak’s squawk of laughter shatters the tension like ice, pushing past Gawain to stand directly in front of Shadow. 

“Brother!” A small purple cat darts out from the crowd, grabbing onto the hawk’s hand and giving him a stern shake, “Do not be foolish!”

“I know what I’m doing, squire,” Lamorak hisses at her, low enough only those nearby can hear him, shaking himself free and pushing the child behind him, “Watch and learn, Percy!”

‘Percy’ gives a loud, annoyed groan as she stomps her foot irritably, sulkily crossing her arms and watching her brother with an incredibly unimpressed expression. Who was this girl, again? Lamorak had asked if he could bring his sister in as his squire, but that had been only a few days ago and she wouldn’t have been able to make the journey so quickly, could she? She also seemed a little too young to be a squire… 

Lamorak flips his visor up with one hand as he looks down on Shadow with a condescending grin, “Do you have any idea what you are asking for? Do you really think an untried knave without any weapon or armor of his own has a chance?”

Shadow is coolly defiant, eyes boring into Lamorak ferociously, “I don’t need anything but my bare hands to beat you.“

Lamorak’s grin falls immediately, and his hand reaches to the scabbards where his twin swords are sheathed on his back-

“Enough!” Arthur steps in before Shadow manages to make more enemies, putting himself between his combative guest and his strongest knights, “Shadow is new to the realm and not familiar with its customs, and yet you treat him with great hostility! Where is your courtesy? Your patience? This is a most inhospitable way to treat my personal guest!”

Arthur hates having to use his authority like this, he really does, but Shadow is going to wind up as unpopular as Kay at this rate. 

The stunned silence lasts only a moment. 

“Your guest!” Gawain sputters indignantly, gesturing at Shadow like he doesn’t know what else to say, “Your guest!!”

“My lord,” Gareth puts his hand on Gawain’s shoulder, choosing his words carefully, “It is most unusual to have someone enter the kingdom with the visage of one of the round table’s most illustrious and well-regarded knights-”

Kay blows a dismissive raspberry, smiling when the armadillo gives him an annoyed side eye. Gawain leans over his brother’s shoulder to give the green hedgehog a full on glare.

“And it would be imprudent to rush into something like this without considering all potential factors and viewpoints,” Gareth finishes primly, bowing his head respectfully as he meets Shadow’s eyes, “While still giving Sir Shadow the same opportunities we would extend to every other child of Camelot.”

“You cannot be serious!” Gawain turns to his brother incredulously, “He disguised himself as Lancelot!”

“I have no need to disguise myself as anyone!” Shadow’s eyes narrow as he takes a step toward Gawain.

“Enough, enough!” Arthur massages his forehead as he glances up at the sky, knowing that this argument will cost him the rest of the morning. He will be struggling to meet all his daily obligations at this rate, and will likely be working late into the night... “I will hear your arguments in the great hall at the round table- after we break our fast.”

Before anyone can say anything else, Arthur turns to his guest, “Come, Shadow the Hedgehog, bringer of chaos! Before you end up creating blood feuds with the entire round table!”

Shadow doesn’t look the least bit chastised, incredulous and amused as he gives a flippant shrug, “Fine by me.”

“With these jests, it sounds like you’re better suited to the role of court jester!” Lamorak laughs boisterously, arms crossed over his chest as he grins mockingly. His squire stands behind him, less than enthused at her knight’s actions, but doesn’t say anything. She simply grips onto his tail feathers and digs her feet into the ground below, trying to physically keep him out of the range of Shadow’s fists. 

“Have you any more?” Lamorak jeers, obviously trying to get back at Shadow for that earlier insult. (Even though the brash hawk brought it on himself. Again.)

The air around Shadow turns positively murderous, and he flexes the fingers of his right hand as he brings it up mid-chest, “How about a magic trick?

Sparks crackle around his fingertips as he looks at Lamorak over his shoulder, eyes narrowing like he’s honing in on a target.

“I can make you disappear-“ Shadow starts to say, bringing his hand down in a vicious arc-

That Arthur jumps in to stop with his hands. The strange energy spreads through Shadow’s fingers and into his own, leaving behind a tingling sensation that seems to seep into his skin and to his very bones. Arthur lets go quickly, but it travels up the length of his arm and into his shoulder before radiating through his entire body.

“My Lord!” Half a dozen voices cry out at the same time in dismay.

“It’s nothing!” Arthur doesn’t have any time to dwell on any of this, even as his body seems to buzz with the energy. He wants to shake his hand out, but he knows that will just worry his knights, “I said this will wait until after breakfast! Be still, all of you!” 

He grabs Shadow’s hand tightly as he ushers his taciturn companion forward, as if afraid the black hedgehog is going to run off and punch someone else in the face. (Which seems very likely at this point.)

 “Come along!” Arthur’s hand buzzes where it touches Shadow, even through the fabric of his glove. He half expects the dark hedgehog to push him away, and is surprised when Shadow’s hand squeezes him. But painfully so, like this is a challenge he can win while making sure Arthur doesn’t let go. The king glances back as Shadow, curious to see why the prickly hedgehog would touch him without a clear purpose- when it becomes clear this is a calculated power play.

Shadow is staring Gawain down, using this simple gesture to establish himself in the king’s entourage, annoy the echidna and the other knights who regard him with suspicion, and show his clear disregard for hierarchy of the court. For some reason, Arthur is disappointed… but he pushes that feeling aside immediately. Shadow would be a fool if he did not use the king’s political and social position to his advantage.

Arthur pulls Shadow towards the now doorless archway, whispering as he discreetly elbows the black hedgehog, “What are you doing? I don’t know how it works in your world, but you’ll accomplish more with friends in Camelot’s walls rather than enemies!”

“I don’t need friends,” Shadow gives Arthur a flat look, answering loudly as he glowers back at Lamorak, “And if you want to keep yours in one piece, they shouldn’t start what they can’t finish. I don’t like leaving loose ends.”

Arthur rolls his eyes in exasperation as he hurries through the corridor, ear swiveling backwards to pick up on the disgruntled chatter that is naturally amplified by the stone hallways. Shadow’s combative attitude and abrasive demeanor are certainly not doing much to endear him to anyone.

“You don’t seem to like casual conversation or friendly advice either,” Arthur quips back, shaking his head, “And certainly not comfortable beds. What of mead and bread? Do you like that?”

“You're starting to irritate me, hedgehog-” Shadow answers back automatically, annoyed, before blinking rapidly. He gives Arthur that look again, like he’s seeing him in a completely different light, “You are going to drink mead for breakfast?”

Arthur finds Shadow’s baffled confusion amusing, quietly chuckling to himself, “Would my new champion prefer wine instead?”

“Sure, why not,” Shadow lets Arthur open the door to the chamber himself, purposefully ignoring Gawain’s outrage and rubbing it in by refusing to let go of the king’s hand the entire time, making Arthur do it one handed. Arthur can’t remember the last time he’s opened a door for himself, let alone another person. It’s strangely thrilling, “Where does the echidna sit?”

“I sit in the red velvet siege,” Arthur nods at the plush seat with the crown carved into the wood above it, “And ‘Wain sits to my left-”

“Good,” Shadow doesn’t wait for Arthur to finish explaining or sit down, plopping himself in the seat to Arthur’s right like it belongs to him. It belongs to Sir Kay, who seems less than amused- but, in a rare move of self preservation, also doesn’t seem very keen to attract Shadow’s ire on himself directly. Arthur shrugs to his brother apologetically, making motions to an attendant by the door to bring another chair.

In fact, Shadow goes out of his way to make himself look as comfortable as possible, throwing his crossed legs over one arm rest and propping his elbow on the other, resting his chin on his fist. Incredibly bold… Arthur sits down quickly himself, hiding a smile behind a sip of his cup.

“MY KING!” Gawain yanks his chair out from the table so violently the wood cracks under his grip, splinters falling to the floor as he sits in it heavily and unhappily, “THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!!!”

Shadow stares at Gawain with a bored expression as he filches a piece of cheese from Arthur’s plate, popping it into his mouth as the echidna slams his hands back down on the table. 

Well, this is certainly turning out to be a very different and complicated day! When Arthur first rose this morning, he didn’t think he’d end up having breakfast with Shadow the Hedgehog sitting on his right hand side after causing a feud with almost half the round table. Or to have Gawain, one of his most powerful and influential knights, squabbling with the black hedgehog like a petulant child.

One of the many large and small problems he needs to solve... Arthur nibbles on a roll absentmindedly as he listens to Gareth’s argument from the other side of the table, pretending he doesn’t notice Shadow flick a piece of apple at the side of Gawain’s head.

He needs to nip the budding tension between Lamorak and Shadow before it leads to bloodshed… Lamorak is very pointedly glaring daggers at the hedgehog until his sister kicks him in the shin when he doesn’t pass her the jam quickly enough, and that quickly devolves to the hawk arguing with a literal child. 

Arthur needs to make Shadow’s self-appointed position as his champion palatable to the majority of his knights and advisors, many of whom are regarding Shadow with guarded suspicion over the rim of their mugs. 

He needs to find and check on Lancelot, whose absence in the siege at Gawain’s right is painfully obvious. And Arthur needs to soothe Kay’s wounded pride before his brother does something reckless and foolish that causes them all unnecessary grief. (Especially Kay himself.)

It was exactly as Sir Ector had warned- the secret wish of excitement in his heart had been answered in the most unexpected way. But Arthur has no regrets. 

Despite it all, he is eager to see how this new adventure unfolds.

[fattybattysblog]

Friend, Please (Chapter 15)

Fandom: Kirby/Kirby Right Back At Ya!

Gen | Teen

Characters: Meta Knight, Dark Meta Knight, Velka | Arcta Knight (OC)

Summary: They should be used to desperate people making horrible decisions by now, but somehow it always goes too far before anyone does anything about it. A person fell prey to the empty promises of dark, powerful hearts to become Arcta Knight. As they make their mark on Dreamland, Meta Knight grows anxious about the encroaching danger and leaves suddenly to prepare for a duel like no other.

AO3 | SqWA | Quotev

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence, Blood and Violence, Swordfighting, Original Villain Character, Gijinka Kirby Characters

@ocappreciationtag

(Cover art done by Dean, edited together by me)

What Once Was

She had deep indigo eyes.

Pale as the moon and frail… Every time he spotted her in the training yard, he wondered how she made it through the first trial at all. Maybe Sir Arthur saw something in her and made an exception?

Meta often arrived at the yard just as she was finishing her training. She’d leave discouraged and exhausted, not even noticing him half the time and giving a half-hearted greeting the other half. Her presence was like a ghost, there but not truly seen, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for her.

This time, he arrived at the same time as she did. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the training yard. She stood at the entrance, her small frame dwarfed by the large wooden gates. She looked as though she hadn’t slept, carrying dark circles beneath her eyes.

Meta hesitated for a moment, watching her. She seemed lost in thought, staring at the practice dummies with a mixture of determination and dread. He took a deep breath and approached her, his boots crunching softly on the gravel.

She dropped a heavy bag beside her, filled with supplies and half secured. Meta cleared his throat so she would hear his approach.

“Good morning,” he said, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

She jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, turning to face him. Her expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. “Oh… good morning,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Meta offered a small smile, hoping to put her at ease. “Sorry to startle you. I’m Meta, another squire. I’ve seen you training here often.”

She nodded, returning her attention to the dummy ahead of her. She took the basic sword off of her hip, bracing it in her hands. “I’m not very good at it… I’m Velka.”

Her name… I’m almost surprised I recalled it at all. I can barely recall my own name before I was Knighted.

Meta frowned slightly, sensing the depth of her self-doubt even through the mask she put up. He stepped aside, giving her room to practice. “Everyone starts somewhere. It’s about perseverance, not just skill.”

Velka looked up at him, her indigo eyes searching his for any sign of insincerity. Finding none, she gave a hesitant nod. “So I keep hearing. I’m doing everything I’m told but it never seems to work.”

“Do you want to train together today?” he offered. “Maybe we can help each other improve.”

She seemed taken aback by his suggestion, a mixture of surprise and suspicion flashing across her face. “You’d want to— ? But I don’t think I’d be able to teach you anything?”

Meta shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “Why not? We’re all here to become Star Warriors, aren’t we? I would like to help either way.”

For the first time Meta had seen, a small smile tugged at the corners of Velka’s lips. “Alright then. Let’s give it a try.”

After that… It’s a blur of countless days where we were at the yard sparring and practicing various techniques. It’s hard to make out many details.

Meta noticed that while Velka’s movements were often hesitant and lacked confidence, she had a natural grace and agility that could be honed with practice. He offered gentle corrections and encouragement, doing his best to boost her morale.

Beyond that, I can’t grasp anything else there, I have to leave the training yard.

Through their training they had began to talk more. Despite her frail appearance and the doubts of those around her, Velka was determined to become a Star Warrior. She spoke of Sir Arthur with the fervor of someone meeting their greatest hero. He who had seen potential in her and had given her the chance to prove herself.

“I want to prove that I can do it,” she said quietly during a break. “I want to prove that I can be a Star Warrior too. But sometimes, I wonder if I’ll ever be good enough.”

Meta placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “The most important part is your passion. The rest will come with time and effort.”

“It’s just difficult. I feel like I’m somehow incapable of grasping what they teach us. No matter what, it just… it rolls off me,” she shook her head and dropped it in her hands. Meta frowned, folding his hands on the table and flickering his eyes between her and her standard sword.

“We’ll find out what works for you…”

“Eventually… Well, what about you? Why did you want to be a Star Warrior?” Velka asked, moving the topic away from her for her comfort. Meta straightened his back and looked ahead with a stern and determined expression.

“I want to face the strongest Knight in the galaxy,” he nodded sharply.

Velka’s eyes were wide, blinking in surprise at him. “You want to fight Sir Arthur?”

“No, no. Sir Arthur leads the Star Warriors, but he’s not the strongest. That title belongs to a Knight from a long time ago. Back when there were still Ancients,” Meta’s tone was hushed, as if letting her in on a secret. He leaned in to keep their conversation covert. “He was called Galacta Knight.”

“Ooh…” Velka whispered in awe.

“I believe I’ll beat him one day… I believe we both will achieve our goals,” Meta said with conviction, his optimism infectious. A smile gradually grew on her face and she brightened, the determination to succeed blooming inside her.

She was always trying so hard. Where did it change? Why did she take this route?

-----

For a while, they were inseparable, finding comfort and strength in each other’s presence. They worked together on tasks and training, even taking some of their courses together when they had the chance. Meta was far more advanced than she was, but he was willing to hang back to help her.

However, as time passed, Meta’s focus grew sharper and more intense. His ambition to become the best drove him to train harder and longer, often losing track of time and everything around him. He became consumed by his desire to surpass even the greatest warriors of the past, and his relentless pursuit of perfection began to take its toll on their friendship.

Meta spent hours every day perfecting his techniques, losing sight of anything that wasn't in favor of his goal. Before this moment, he hadn't known how he could ever face Galacta Knight. He was content just being named the next strongest through his efforts.

That was until he learned of something grand. A place that was known to grant wishes and make dreams come true. A planet called Popstar. His goal became something far more tangible now and gradual achievement wouldn't cut it. He needed to push and progress more and more every day.

Velka joined him every morning, it had become their routine by now. Bt She was left there without warning whenever Meta finished with his work. She struggled to keep up and match his pace, pushing herself far beyond her limits. But no matter how hard she tried, Meta was far ahead of her. Lost in his own world of tunnel vision self improvement.

There was a point that Meta lost track of her entirely. Traversing the memories, he found little else of her. A pleading look, a practice sword clutched in hand. Increasing amounts of bruises and cuts.

A voice cut through his session, pulling him from his focus. He grumbled softly and lowered his weapon, turning to find Velka at the edge of the yard. She appeared in awe, though there was a wrinkle of concern in her brow.

“You've been training for hours. Don't you think it's time to take a break?” her voice was tinged with concern and desperation.

“No. I need to get this right,” he said, turning his back to her gripping his weapon in both hands.

He hadn't been so short with her before. But he had no time to dally. His training continued alone. Days turning into weeks. Meta’s obsession with improving only grew. Velka’s only companion in the program moved on without another word to her.

Without another word? No, there has to be something, I wouldn’t have left it there, would I?

Meta struggled to think. He could only find one more instance of interaction between them. He was leaving the yard, where else would he be? And as he left he was carrying an armful of broken practice swords.

“Meta,” a soft voice chimed as he passed. “Can we talk?”

He paused, finally turning to face her after so long. Though once he could disconnect from his tasks and relax, he was too distracted for warmth and companionship. He looked at her with a distant, determined fire.

“What is it?”

Velka hesitated, scanning his face for a moment. “I… I heard you were going to be in the next Knighting ceremony.”

Meta nodded. He continued past her, taking the broken pieces somewhere to be tossed. “I will be. I can’t get any better without a real battle. I’ve learned everything I could here.”

“Well… I admire all the progress you’ve made. I wanted to ask if you would… If you’d train with me one last time? Before you left?” Velka said. She didn’t appear very prepared. Meta didn’t give it any thought at the time, but now he was sure that she simply wanted to spend time with him after so long of being cast aside.

He dusted his hands off and looked aside. His expression softened for a moment, fighting with the determined fire that burned in his chest. “I really have to go.”

Velka stammered, struggling to find the words to explain what she really wanted. “B– Meta, please. I–”

“I’m sorry, Velka. You’ll get better eventually, you don’t need me,” he urged. 

“H-How about you visit sometime? I want to see you after you become a Knight, hopefully I’ll be one too? Please, just come back to visit. Once?” Velka begged, dropping her practice sword to clasp her hands together, stepping up to him. Her eyes started to sparkle with sorrow and desperation, tears threatening to slip. 

“Alright… I’ll try to return,” he sighed. It was the last thing he said to her, leaving her at the yard in the fading twilight. She watched him as he left, he could feel her eyes on his back.

As soon as he was Knighted, a war broke out. Meta was swiftly set out to battle against Nightmare’s forces for the first time. And not a thought of Velka ever crossed him again. He could make the excuse that he was young then and too ambitious for his own good. He could say the war changed so much at once… No matter the reason. He forgot her. 

(Previous Chapter) | (Next Chapter)

[the-kingshound]

Okay but given that we know both Yniol and Evaine have rumors around them, how worthy they are to be there and what not, (and we know how certain nobles feel about it) what about other Knights like Urien? Or other round table knights?

Lore dump!

So, basically every Round Table Knight is of noble birth, save for Yniol who is an orphan commoner. All of them, save for Evaine, were knighted under Uther's reign.

Previous to Uther, no knight could be a commoner. The legislation was changed not because Uther believed in equality, but because he realised he was bleeding his knights dry and needed more people to fill the empty ranks. When the nobles complained, Uther simply said with a cruel smile "anyone who is against the measure has just now offered their child as a squire."

Obviously, as there were less and less nobles willing to get knighted and then killed or maimed by their own King, the nobles were forced to accept.

Something similar happened to women knights. A few years previous to commoners being allowed to receive training, Uther allowed women to be knighted as well as men. The reason for this was that his attention had been captured by a fierce noblewoman who had trained alone and was showing an enormous potential. She is, by the way, the same Lady who later married Ghaven.

Back to Evaine and Yniol

Despite being of noble lineage, Evaine is the child of french nobles who later settled in Wales. They were never part of Camelot's court and thus they are seen as lesser. Evaine was also brought to Camelot in a rather abrupt way and Knighted soon after by Arthur, then later appointed as a member of the Round Table despite the many nobles who aspired at the title.

Their quick rise to the position does not mean, however, that they are undeserving of it. Ultimately it's soley the King's choice who will be part of his closer knights. Evaine went through the necessary steps quicker than anyone else, but they did complete them all.

To answer your question, both Evaine and Yniol have full right to be Round Table Knights, despite what anyone might think or say. Some people just think lesser of them because every other Round Table Knight is the "right nobility".

[tavtiers]

The Page of Time [symbols: pawn, gear]

The Page class has its basis in the medieval squire. An example would be King Arthur from Arthurian Legend. It is also based on the sidekick trope, such as Robin from Batman.

The Time aspect’s main themes are endings and destruction. You can find its official description here.

A Page of Time is among those who use physical existence. This is the “classpect group” they belong to. Members include: the Knight, Page, Thief, and Rogue of Space/Time. These classes are all opposites or inverses of each other that use the Space/Time dichotomy (physical existence). A description of classpect groupings can be found here.

The Page of Time passively utilizes the Time aspect. Passive classes are guided by others or act for the benefit of others. They are more likely to be kind, but less likely to stand up for themselves. Knights and Pages use their aspect and everything it symbolizes as a tool. Simplified, the Page of Time is motivated by others to utilize endings and destruction.

In personality, the Page of Time has trouble seeing what they’re good at and has a strong desire for closure. Personality descriptions can be found here.

Their archetype is the Believer Harbinger, defined by confidence, endings, and destruction. Archetypes are explained here.

Their opposite is the Knight of Space, who actively utilizes creation and beginnings.

Their inverse is the Thief of Space, who actively steals creation and beginnings.

A classpect or “god tier” is an individual’s best self. All classpects go through a journey from unrealized, to struggle, to realized. When a character is unrealized, they neutrally exist as their inverse. On their struggle, they will wildly flip back and forth between their inverse and true classpect. In their worst moments they will act as their inverse, in their best their true classpect. When realized, they will stabilize as their true classpect. They will still have room to grow, but will become happier, more successful people.

This means that the Page of Time begins life motivated by themselves to steal creation and beginnings. When their struggle arrives and they are at their worst, they will continue this behavior in negative extremes. However, when at their best, they will find purpose in instead utilizing endings and destruction for others. When realized, they will stabilize and continue to utilize the Time aspect passively, in a positive way.

They share their archetype with the Witch of Hope, the Harbinger Believer.

The Page of Time would quest on a planet similar to the Land of Earth [Page] and Time [Aspect]. An example would be the Land of Volcanic Ash and Ticking. An explanation of planet naming conventions can be found here.

Two possible gods, or denizens, to reign over their planet would be Chronos (God of Time) or Hephaestus (God of the Forge). Other Time aspect denizens can be found here.

When the Page of Time completes their planet quests and dies on their quest bed, they would rise to ascension on the wings of crows (symbols of death). A list of soul animals can be found here.

The characters that I have currently classpected as Pages of Time are: Napstablook from Undertale, Rory Williams from Doctor Who, the Eighth Doctor from Doctor Who, and Kent Connolly from Fallout.

If any of the links not connected to my blog break, the content can be found on my Google Drive.

Official Aspect Descriptions Personality Descriptions Aspect Denizens

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #42: Game of Thrones, but make it Catelyn Tully

Let's be honest: there are a lot of terrible people in Game of Thrones. As someone once said, it's less pick your favorite character than pick your favorite war criminal. Yet the one character I can usually find few redeeming qualities for is, by comparison, one whose wickedness is most tame - Catelyn Tully. I just can't forgive her cruelty to Jon for the "crime" of being born someone else's son.

So I thought: what would it take for me to like Catelyn Tully as a person? Or: What would a Jon Snow raised by a loving stepmother look like?

Aka: The Rhaegar the Righteous Fic

Just imagine it:

Everything through Robert's Rebellion happens just as in canon, but with one exception: when Lysa Tully became pregnant by Petyr Baelish, her father did not force her to drink moon tea. As lowly as Hoster Tully thought Baelish is, he believes there is more shame in forcing his daughter to end her pregnancy than in allowing her to marry the father of her child.

But Baelish, still licking his wounds from Brandon Stark, refuses to marry Lysa - he still wants Catelyn's hand. So Catelyn is forced to watch her younger sister rage and then despair over Petyr's betrayal while still very much desiring her bastard child. This causes Catelyn's position on baseborn children to soften.

Lysa dies in childbed. Her child follows soon after. Catelyn is distraught.

When Ned returns from war with his own bastard, Catelyn resolves to treat Jon with all the love she would have given Lysa's son - though she still feels rather put out towards Ned about it.

Jon grows up loved by his stepmother - and this changes everything, for Catelyn is a Southron, Andal influence. Like Bran, Jon grows up wanting to be a Southron knight, and, like Sansa, is more faithful to the Seven than the Old Gods.

Ned, though leery of anything Southron - particularly where Jon is concerned - eventually consents to Jon earning his knighthood. Jon is sent to squire for Baelor Hightower, heir of Oldtown and eldest brother of Jorah Mormont's wife, Lynesse.

Jon's Southron knighthood should collide with his Northern ethics and morality in all the best ways - he should be the most honorable and chivalrous knight since Arthur Dayne, whom many assume to be his uncle.

The events of canon proceed apace. Robert dies, Ned is beheaded, and war breaks out.

Rather than rejoin his family, Jon stays with the Hightowers - Jon's position is that while it makes sense to rise against Joffrey for his actions, breaking away from the Seven Kingdoms makes them oathbreakers. He distinguishes himself in skirmishes with Lannister forces on the Westerlands borders for which he is knighted.

After Renly's death, Jon comes to the attention of Olenna Tyrell when, during discussions regarding which of the remaining factions to back, Jon argues for finding the nearest person of Targaryen blood and installing them on the throne rather than dealing with a heretic like Stannis or a madman like Joffrey.

Olenna has always had the vague suspicion that there was more to Ned Stark's bastard than meets the eye and something about this interaction causes her to look at Jon and go Targaryen - or at least plausibly Targaryen - and all of a sudden the Reach and half of the Stormlands is rising in the name of Rhaegar's posthumous son.

Eventually proof comes from the Citadel and the Neck that Jon is Rhaegar's son - also named Rhaegar - but at the time Jon is highly uncomfortable with what he sees as deception. He only agrees to go along with it because 1) Olenna manages to convince him it's the truth and 2) it's the only way he gets to marry Baelor's oldest daughter, Elinor Hightower, with whom he is in love.

Without the Tyrells backing the Lannisters, nearly all the Seven Kingdoms - minus Dorne and King's Landing - fall to Reacher forces. The Red Wedding happens before Jon is forced to deal with Robb's own kingship and Jon retakes the North before turning his forces against Joffrey and his Essosi mercenaries.

Jon is crowned King Rhaegar the Righteous and marries his beloved, Elinor Hightower, in a brilliant dual ceremony in the Sept of Baelor. His reign is always known as a period of prosperity in Westeros during which the Seven come to dominate the Seven Kingdoms. There's a decidedly Camelot bent to later histories of this period.

Daenerys never tries to retake Westeros, but instead builds a - slave free - Valyrian empire in Essos. This eventually comes to be Westeros' great rival and many wars are fought between them over control of the Stepstones and the Narrow Sea, but in its early years both branches of House Targaryen intermarry frequently.

Bonuses include: 1) Jon and Elinor falling in love while he squires for her father, but realizing nothing can ever come from it and having a very UST-filled courtly romance until they're finally given leave to marry after he's named king; 2) Jon and Elinor's first daughter being named Catelyn, after his beloved stepmother; 3) Heavy overtones of Arthurian myth, with the faith of the Seven taking the place of Christianity, up to and including the King in the Mountain following Jon's death; and 4) no one being more surprised than Olenna Tyrell when it turns out Jon really is a Targaryen.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt, just link back if you ever do anything with this bun.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aegon the Undying | Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Daeron the Desired | Dyanna the Defiant | King of the Ashes | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Lord of the Dance | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother | Rhaegar the Righteous

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[lost-kingsmen]

((What’s the point of having a little sibling if you don’t bother them with increasing gravity every once in a while?))

[fatherson-showdown]

I POSTED THIS TO THE WRONG FUCKING BLOG neways heres the contestants list. decided to stick with a "one duo per fandom" rule for this but i didnt have enough so i ended up adding two criminal minds submissions

ill reblog this with the list of matchups once i finish randomizing them all

extremely long post warning eloel (please tell me if i got the father-son order wrong i dont know like half of these people)

The Spy and The Scout/Jeremy (Team Fortress 2)

Pigsy and MK (Lego Monkie Kid)

Dr. Eggman and Metal Sonic (Sonic franchise)

Darius Deamonne and Hunter (The Owl House)

Kohachi Inugami and Kabane Kusaka (Kemono Jihen)

Hueso and Leo (Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles)

Bowser and Bowser Jr. (Mario franchise)

Lord Garmadon and Lloyd Garmadon (Ninjago)

Brom and Eragon (The Inheritance Cycle)

Prince Robot IV and Squire (Saga)

Alfred Pennyworth and Bruce Wayne (Batman franchise)

Dustfinger and Farid (Inkheart trilogy)

Victor Frankenstein and his Monster (Frankenstein)

Domingo Montoya and Inigo Montoya (The Princess Bride)

Silas and Bod Owens (The Graveyard Book)

John Reckless and Jacob Reckless (Mirrorworld)

Conrad Grayson and Daniel Grayson (Revenge)

Denver and Moscow (La Casa de Papel)

Atticus Finch and Jem Finch (To Kill a Mockingbird)

Dunstan Thorn and Tristran Thorn (Stardust)

Phil Dunphy and Luke Dunphy (Modern Family)

Link and Scout (Grey's Anatomy)

Tony DiNozzo Sr. and Tony DiNozzo Jr. (NCIS)

Jason Gideon and Spencer Reid (Criminal Minds)

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader and Luke Skywalker (Star Wars franchise)

Morland Holmes and Sherlock Holmes (Elementary)

Wednesday and Shadow Moon (American God)

The Cigarette Smoking Man and Fox Mulder (The X-Files)

Leto Atreides and Paul Atreides (Dune)

Mufasa and Simba (The Lion King)

Baloo and Mowgli (The Jungle Book)

Aslan and Peter (The Chronicles of Narnia)

John Parry and Will Parry (His Dark Materials)

Anansi and Charlie (Anansi Boys)

General Tilney and Henry Tilney (Northanger Abbey)

Arthur Pendragon and Mordred (Arthuriana)

Denethor and Faramir (Lord of the Rings)

Gepetto and Pinocchio (Pinocchio)

Heathcliff and Linton Heathcliff (Wuthering Heights)

Marlin and Nemo (Finding Nemo)

Brás' father and Brás de Oliva Domingos (Daytripper)

Kratos and Atreus (God of War)

Gregory Edgeworth and Miles Edgeworth (Ace Attorney)

Goofy and Max (A Goofy Movie)

Son Goku and Son Gohan (Dragon Ball)

Greg Universe and Steven Universe (Steven Universe)

Mr. Ping and Po (Kung Fu Panda)

Stoick the Vast and Hiccup (How to Train your Dragon)

Kumatetsu and Kyūta (The Boy and the Beast)

Aku Aku and Crash Bandicoot (Crash Bandicoot)

Lawrence Fletcher and Phineas Flynn and Ferb Fletcher (Phineas and Ferb)

Professor Kukui and Ash Ketchum (Pokemon)

William Afton and Michael Afton (Five Nights at Freddy's)

Lucifer and Satan (Obey Me!)

Ozai and Zuko (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Benzo and Ekko (Arcane)

Dad Egbert and John Egbert (Homestuck)

Lord Death and Death the Kid (Soul Eater)

George and Lance and Bow (She-ra and the Princesses of Power)

Jake the Dog and Kim Kal Whan (Adventure Time)

Henry Fisher and Sal Fisher (Sallyface)

Asgore Dreemurr and Asriel Dreemurr (Undertale)

Gomez Addams and Pugsley Addams (The Addams Family franchise)

Will LaMontagne and Henry (Criminal Minds)

[groundbreakingdot872]

lights and sirens blaring I am here for service o7

ILY :)

anyways,

It’s always so interesting to see your thoughts work straight into the fine bone and gristle of the matter, right there to Merlin’s desperate lashing out of ‘I haven’t changed’ to Arthur’s immediate stoicism (and knowing already) to Merlin then mirroring him as default

It’s fascinating

If Merlin was a reptile, he has shed his skin. Coils of loose grey scales and remnant humanity slide away in the second Arthur acknowledging the fact of his immortality.

Maybe I’m fixating too hard on the lines “Merlin’s face goes from almost pink with frustration to an almost grey-white” but I can see Arthur’s shoulders rise with a sinking fear that Merlin is exactly who he had always claimed to be: himself, and an unchanging entity

He’s the bobbing wisp o’ light that followed a prince into a dark cavern, the rushing wind that beats on the shoulders of guards chasing druids through the midnight streets, and he’s every cliff and burrow and earthy knoll that decorates the Kingdom, Arthur claims to know so well until it’s standing, human-dressed, in front of him.

There’s so much to dig in here- about how Arthur is unable to put the idea of every grain of dirt and cobblestone and every ordinary face in Camelot with the idea of Merlin, so familiar and shifting in his magic-marrow in front of him

It’s hard to equate those ideas together because then Arthur would be forced to recognize every face that Merlin picks up, every dirt-lined brow in the outlying villages, and the bloodmagic-hewed hands of every sorcerer he’s condemned since.

Merlin just is

“until he slowly tips his chin in understanding”

VIV

I AM DEVOURING YOUR WORDS

like-

Merlin, hollow skeleton of a man that rattles with the branches skittering around them, his face ghost-grey, dancing on the fine line between nausea and relief, tipping his chin up in a fucking parody of the resolve that he’d put on time on time again, the one that bleeds through even before his pride’s stained from the admitted truth, he’s readying himself right now and I’m closing my eyes in so much reverence and awe and a little pity

and

LEON

I fuCKING KNEW he’d come through at some point and here he is!!

with fingers pointed right into Arthur’s face that have traced maps and battle plans with the same unwavering resolve. With his brows pulled rough like berry thickets and the rust-sweat of old blades, and so immovable in the face of Arthur’s flimsy retaliation, like all of the sword-play routines he had stumbled back from as a squire

And it’s the same Leon, the same man, the same child, shielding Merlin from Arthur’s counter moves like he’s guessed at the weak defenses all along

“…bright and sharp and warning, but Leon meets him with squared shoulders and a foot slid just in between the two of them.”

herewegoherewego!!!!!!!

Leon’s words ‘heart and soul’ have ripped me a new one, it just stings like freshwater to hear Leon of all the men, white-knighting for Merlin here, to step forward and with him, with nothing but the the cape of unswerving loyalty to cloak himself with- it’s so honest of Leon, so stalwart and true

“Arthur’s face shutters and he stares a hole between Leon’s eyes. Merlin’s hand closes around the back of Leon’s shirt and grips right.”

The feelings are FEELING RIGHT NOW

how are you so good at this??? Arthur’s pulling the blinds on whatever is brewing between his first knight and the inescapable honor he sees in the face of Merlin’s magic, and he’s looking between his eyes because he doesn’t dare to lift them higher than the noble’s knights brow; that would be impossible.

You are just brilliant. That’s all.

“Merlin shouldn’t have been such a bad influence all those centuries.”

AJSHDJEUDNXISOWMSJDOHWGSUWJWK cry…

This is such a Leon and Merlin keeping company at Parisian tables, knocking knees on outcroppings and stranger’s balconies, whittling figures in barren fields just passing the time, and meeting over and over again over centuries with the same conclusion in every shoulder clasp, every muffled greeting. Like I can see it!

“…and Leon’s lucky he’s spent the last couple hundred years getting used to Merlin trying to wind him up.”

THERE IT IS AGAIN

and Arthur’s the lucky one I think! (to avoid a front-row performance to Leon’s perfected right hook)

“…wit the strings cut.” GAH

don’t mind me at this point I’m just word babbling over the cutting precision you’re employing here

“Arthur bows his head, like a scolded child, and tucks his chin into his chest to hide the wobble Leon knows is there. Arthur had never been able to maintain a poker face when it really mattered.”

Arthur’s lips tremble before he’s about to cry, there’s a flea-sized scratch above his left eyebrow from when he dared to knock the wind out of Sir Ethan at 11, he’s got a folding quality to him whenever an attacker flanks his right side after touching sword-point, and he drew first blood, terrified, against a traveling Lord from Mercia who dared to ogle Morgana at her 16th birthday banquet

Leon knows this, because it’s his job to be observant . To be all-knowing of Arthur’s rips and tears like it’s more than the fondness of understanding him as a younger, once foolhardy and tenacious prince.

If Merlin is the complete knowing of a thousand dusty tomes in Geoffrey’s library, then Leon is the familiarity of a well-read page, creased and finger-printed all over, lovingly.

I’m just so- out of words so wordsnotfound about this whole thing, AHHHHHH, you’ve done the impossible and more, to succinctly draw up Merlin, Leon and Arthur, as if it were as easy as scratching stick-figures

wow

i don’t know where the fuck this came from, actually

[knightsofthethicktable]

Re watching Merlin and I don't like that the knights didn't do anything when Gwen arrested Merlin (S5, E7). They're supposed to be his friends! So I wrote a fic changing that. Here's some guards recounting my version of how things really went down.

"Did you hear about the time the knights blew up the dungeons for the King's manservant?"

A general negative murmur ran around the group of guards sitting in Camelot's Rising Sun tavern.

The night shift dungeon guard glanced about to check that no nobles were listening. "Ok. Right, so it was back when our King Arthur was poisoned. Queen Guinevere arrested Merlin on suspicion of poisoning him. Cleared later of course," He added when there was a shocked gasp. "But he did end up in the dungeons. So there I was keeping an eye on things, doing my job and the lad only left through the royal escape!-"

"The royal escape? I thought he was a manservant. What is it that Merlin does here?" A new squire asked in confusion.

The guard raised his hands. "Not my department. Way above my paygrade."

"So you let him just go?"

"The king was poisoned mate, Merlin might be soft in the head at times but he’s a half decent physician. Probably went to Gaius and tried to find a cure or whatever."

"Anyways, later that night Sir Leon. The bleeding First Knight of Camelot is coming over chatting to Me. He’s carrying pillows and blankets and said the cook was making a full meal instead of the normal prisoner rations. He's wanting to make Merlin more comfortable while they sort out what he believes must be a mistake."

'Top bloke is Sir Leon.' 'Good lad.' the guards chorused.

"Yeah proper decent chap. But I'm there tryin' to figure out how to say 'he already left' when there's this massive explosion. So I rush to open the cell doors only to find a ruddy sword pointed in me face. Get this, it was Sir Gwaine, behind him was Sir Percival and both of them covered in dust. There's wood splinters and smoke everywhere from who knows what! And I do mean everywhere.

"Sir Gwaine yells at me 'What have you done with him? Where is he?' Sir Leon batters him back like 'What are you doing here?' Then they argued until they cleaned up the mess and organised cover stories for Merlin's disappearance."

"What did you do?"

"The only thing I could do in that situation. I casually walked backwards until they'd forgotten I was there. No way was I getting involved in that drama."

The other guards uttered murmurs of 'good call,' 'Nice one,' 'Wise.'

"But that's not even the best part. Next day, King gets better right and insists I let Merlin out. So I goes down there expecting the cell to be empty. And guess what? Merlin has only snuck back in the cell. He's there pretending to wake up all innocently as though he thought no one would notice that he'd been gone."

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!