#I hope uther did one good thing while he was alive

[springs-hurts]

Gods but the way people think Arthur was stupid, trusting Agrvaine so much, first, Agravaine was a manipulative bastard, who came just after Uther died, a time when Arthur sorely needed parental support, seeing as his Father died and in a way, his whole family was gone. Mother, already dead, father, his king, dead, his sister betrayed him, forgive him for thinking, someone who was his last link to his mother, who was manipulating him on daily basis into thinking that he's the only one who had good intentions and cared for him. At a time, when he was most vulnerable. Forgive him for thinking that person won't betray him. Forgive him for thinking he had little of his family left. Forgivr him for thinking, even after all that has happened he was still loved by someone of his family.

Gods but I hate agravaine more than Uther, more than Morgana, more than any other villain. The way he manipulated Arthur, Gods, that's legit breaking the whole man, I wonder how Arthur managed to trust people after such deepest betrayal. Nobody talks about it,

But to think even after all of this, he still accepted Merlin and loved him so much!

[friendlyneighborhoodcapricorn]

Ahhhh prompt request! Any of the knights and “Take your time, I’d wait forever for you.” !!!

Thank you for the request anon <3

Taken from this prompt list. Feel free to send me any for Merlin or Outer Banks!

@sehnsuchts-trunken I’ll tag you before you decide to murder someone lol

Warnings: Kinda long, and I mess with canon lol

Afterwards, you sat at the table in Gaius’ chambers with Merlin. Neither of you was saying anything. You didn’t know what you could possibly say after everything that had just happened.

To recap the situation: the man you loved and had thought was dead, suddenly was very much alive again. And then promptly went and had an affair with Guinevere, who set to marry the king tomorrow.

You and Arthur had caught them in the act, Arthur having been tipped by Agravaine, you having sensed something was off about Lancelot. By some miracle, Arthur hadn’t killed them on the spot. Which was a good thing, because then Merlin had stormed in and informed both of you that Lancelot was not himself. Gaius, who arrived moments later, confirmed this and said that he was actually something called a Shade. There were no indications as to who had brought him back, but you all knew it must have been Morgana.

So while Arthur dealt with Gwen -and the enchanted bracelet Gaius discovered she was wearing- Merlin, Gaius and you had taken Lancelot back to Gaius’ chambers in hopes of finding a way to restore his true self.

And then Merlin, in a move that was just the cherry on top to this crazy night, had turned to you and said: “Don’t freak out, but I have magic.”

You hadn’t particularly cared at the moment. “As long as it means you can bring Lancelot back, I don’t care what you have.”

He’d promised he would try, and after a tense half hour, he’d come out of his room and told you and Gaius that Lancelot was sleeping. Gaius had gone in to check on him, make sure there were no physical ramifications of being a Shade, and now you and Merlin were seated around the table in silence.

“Five years,” you eventually said. “I’ve known you for five years, and you never thought to tell me?”

Merlin sighed, resting his chin on his hands. “I don’t go around shouting it off the rooftops, (Y/N).”

“I get why you didn’t say anything while Uther was king, but Arthur-“

“Arthur would kill me just for lying to him for all these years.”

“He wouldn’t.”

“No,” Merlin admitted. “But I doubt he’d ever want to see me again.”

You didn’t protest because the truth was that you had no idea how Arthur would react. “Does Lancelot know?”

Merlin nodded. “He’s the only one, aside from Gaius and my mother. And now you. It was how I knew something was off about Lancelot: he didn’t remember my magic.”

“He’d never forget such an important thing.”

“Exactly,” Merlin agreed. “How did you know?”

You have him an exasperated look. “Merlin, we were two weeks away of getting married when he died. I know him better than he knows himself.”

Merlin smiled, but it faltered almost immediately. “(Y/N), the spell worked, but he’s been put through a lot. I don’t know how much of himself there’s still left. Morgana used very dark magic.”

“I know,” you muttered. It was all that had been on your mind tonight. “But at least it’s him again.”

The door to Merlin’s room creaked open and you both looked to see Gaius descending the steps. He didn’t speak until he was standing by the table.

“Lancelot is awake,” he said, and then turned to you. “He wants to see you.”

You’d never gotten a wedding day, but you were sure that if you had, you wouldn’t have been as nervous as you were right now. You could actually see your hands shake as you got up and made your way to the stairs. Merlin quietly wished you luck, and then slipped through the door.

Lancelot was sitting up in bed. He looked dazed, but there was recognition in his eyes when he looked up at you. He even smiled, though it was thin and tired. “(Y/N).”

You came closer, carefully sitting down on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I imagine Gwaine does when he has a hangover.” He ducked his head, staring at the covers. “I’m so sorry.”

You reached for his hand, gently taking it in yours. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Your actions weren’t your own. They were Morgana’s. Merlin and Gaius figured it out.”

He shrugged but didn’t try to protest. You weren’t sure if that was because he believed you, or because he knew it would be useless.

“How is Arthur?” he asked instead. “Last I remember, he was livid.”

“He was, until Gaius showed him the enchanted bracelet Gwen was wearing. He’s still angry, but not at you or Gwen.”

“Morgana,” Lancelot guessed, and you nodded, tracing circles on the back of his hand.

“But that’s not important now, Lancelot. What matters is that you’re here, and that you’re you again.”

He shook his head slowly. “I don’t know if I’m me again. So much has happened, Morgana, she…”

“I know,” you said when he choked up. “I know. No one’s expecting you to be the same as before the Veil, alright? No one’s expecting anything from you.”

He glanced up. “Not even you?”

“Not even me,” you assured him. “All I want is that you recover. Everything else, whatever that may be, can wait.” You brought his hand up to press a gentle kiss to his knuckles. “Take all the time you need, Lancelot. I would wait forever for you.”

[redisaid]

So far this 9.2 stuff is turning out to be like a 3.5 to 4 star situation where I was expecting 0. And while I shouldn’t be happy about it hopping over a bar that was already so low, I apparently didn’t rant about it enough to friends last night, so here’s my take on the pros and cons:

Under the cut to spare your eyes...

Pro: RANGER GENERAL RANGER GENERAL!!! A whole ass piece of her soul is there now that is freshly dead from her first death holy fuck. Also that model is gorgeous and yes it’s not perfect, but the people analyzing it need to realize a few things: 1. This is an in game cut scene still, not a fully cinematic one, so calm down, 2. Warcraft’s style is chunky, overly colorful, and slightly disproportionate, always has been, 3. So much of the scene with her and Uther is a nod to them in Warcraft 3 and I’m pretty sure it’s not too much of a reach to say the models are meant to reflect that.

Con: The split souls thing is a bit tired. I mean we did get an idea from Uther’s arc that things were going to go this way, so I’m not surprised. She does indeed look like Ranger General Barbie...but hey that works for me.

Pro: Her first death is addressed in a surprisingly respectful manner! By fucking Uther of all people, who was not on my bingo card to be the person to do it, if ever, in lore. I was expecting to hate their interaction when I found out he’d be involved, but I...love it? He addressed that part of her so respectfully, one military commander to another--one pragmatic and practically-minded person to another? One person who died at the height of their goodness and fell far from there to another? I really didn’t hate it! And now I want them to be besties.

Con: The utter abhorrence of the tree burning better not make Sylvanas’ “good” half take over completely. I don’t think it will, but that would be very boring. She did good things as the Banshee Queen too, and I hope to see that somewhat addressed. Her rebellion for the Forsaken, using her contacts and clout to get them the protection of the Horde, and even her actions up to Legion, were all those of a leader doing their best to improve the (un)lives of their people. A ruthless military leader, but still--her “good” self was still a ruthless military leader as well?

Pro: Actually, let’s go to more of the above. I’m going to disagree with what I’ve been seeing some people say as “oh this just erases 15 years of her character development”, because I don’t think that’s the point of the cut scene? I think the point is to have this past version of her address all of it, and again I’m hoping we don’t just see the negatives and see her as an outcast now literally forsaken by everyone who once followed her alive or dead. Some of the leaked voice lines (besides the one I will choose to ignore for gay reasons) that came out just after this also seem to indicate she might talk to her sisters again? I really hope for that. But besides all that, this I think is the only way to appease everyone: to have her address she did some terrible stuff, but that she did it without half of her soul, and that it’s un-atone-able even with that knowledge, but that dwelling on war crimes in a world where everyone has committed a lot of them is pointless when there’s work to be done to save it? I dunno. I find it to be a bit ham-fisted, but a fair compromise for those who wanted her to pay and those who wanted her reasons to do what she did in the first place acknowledged. I don’t think we’re losing the Banshee Queen for the Ranger General. I think we’re getting both, and if nothing else, that’s interesting.

Con: Still, no one will be 100% pleased with this. There was simply no way to make everyone happy with this situation because of how far into a corner it was written already. This is about the best we can get from it and it’s not great, but it’s not horrible either. Again, the bar is low and it’s hard to clap for someone jumping over it, but at least they didn’t impressively limbo under it to the point of making it even worse?

Anyway, I have a lot of thoughts and actually look forward to seeing more of 9.2, even if it’s ham-fisted and they make my girl straight. I am a Warcraft 3 lore whore and this ticked all my nostalgia boxes so hard while actually respecting them and the character from them that I love so much, so I am so surprised to be positive about it overall, but here I am.

[natvrefairy]

Hi, I saw ur request rules and wondered if I could ask for a merlin X reader (romantic) and it's like really fluffy? Thx 😊

A/N: Of course! I'm so happy my first request is for Merlin, because both him and the entire show are just so iconic. I really hope you like this. :)

Something Meaningful (Merlin x Reader)

Requested: Yes!

Reader Pronouns: They/them

Word Count: 1,529

C/W: Uther is dead. A little bit of self-doubt on Merlin's side. Occasional rant. A little bit of stream of consciousness. (Cause I'm experimenting with that technique.) Fluff!

Context: Morgana's alive and good. Mordred and the rest of the knights are also still alive, but they're not really mentioned. Arthur and Gwen are King and Queen. Arthur's allowed magic in Camelot, and they know about and accept Merlin! And LGBTQ+ is accepted! (Cause reader is they/them, and there's no angst here. ^^)

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

When Uther died, Camelot was a bit of a mess. Not that it wasn't before; Uther's reign wasn't a particularly cheerful one. But although he wasn't the kindest person, people still loved him, and his death simply came as a shock to everyone.

Arthur took it the hardest. But honestly, that was to be expected. When most people lose their parent, they get time to grieve, but Arthur didn't have the luxury of time. Uther died, and Arthur was thrown into power.

The first few months were the worst. Not just for Arthur, but the whole castle. But with Guinevere and Merlin by his side, he got through it. And with Arthur as King, it no longer mattered what anyone thought of his relationship with Gwen, because she was now the Queen.

But with Guinevere becoming Queen, a small issue arose. The Lady Morgana no longer had a servant.

Morgana, being as lovely as she was, truly didn't care about the loss of her maidservant. She still had her friend, and enjoyed her independence. But her brother thought it necessary, so the job was given to (Y/N).

Gaius didn't appreciate losing his other helper, but he couldn't say no to the King, so that was that.

But then, Gwen also needed a servant. And once again, the job was given to (Y/N). Merlin most definitely did not approve of his best friend's drastic increase in work load.

"I always knew you were an ass, but I didn't realise you were stupid as well." Merlin told Arthur the following morning.

Arthur's new title as King didn't change Merlin's attitude towards him in the slightest.

"Merlin, you can't address me like that."

"I did before, why is it any different now? Your highness."

"I am the King."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're an ass."

(Y/N) managed to talk Merlin down, but that didn't mean he liked the idea of them having to rush around everywhere all the time. Although, at least it was only Gwen and Morgana, who were both perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

If it was two Arthur's, that would be an entirely different story.

That was about two years ago now. Camelot has had law changes since; such as the lifted ban on magic, allowing people to freely practise their gift, and the new acceptance of anyone identifying as other than cisgender/heterosexual.

And finally, at long last, the land of Albion was united.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Having both grown up in Ealdor, Merlin and (Y/N) were always close. (Y/N) would constantly seek out Merlin and William, the three of them soon becoming best friends. When Merlin set off to Camelot, (Y/N) tagged along to look out for him, Will staying behind with his father.

Unlike Merlin, (Y/N) didn't possess any magic. But although being completely normal, they always went out of their way to try understand what their friend was going through. They never understood Uther's hatred towards magic. Even without having any themself, they absolutely adored Merlin's gift. Witnessing him in action never failed to put (Y/N) in a state of awe.

But of course, Merlin is much more than his magic. That, (Y/N) always knew, even when he didn't believe it himself. They were always there for him, and he was always there for them. That was how it always was, and how it always will be.

Which is why it was so hard for either of them to pinpoint exactly when their feelings grew. They always cared deeply for each other, but at some point, both completely unaware, those feelings blossomed until they were both completely and utterly in love.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The two friends were granted the evening off, and unbeknownst to (Y/N), Gwen and Morgana had something up their sleeve. Having long figured out the pair's mutual yet oblivious feelings, the women decided to take matters into their own hands.

This involved giving them the evening off, and directly telling Merlin to confess.

"I'm sure they feel the same way," Gwen encouraged, "I know it's hard, but try something meaningful. If you can't say how you feel out loud, do something special instead."

So here Merlin was, a nervous wreck as he lead (Y/N) outside of Camelot, to a small forest clearing. What if they didn't like it? What if they turned him down? Then it could lead to disaster and they won't want to be his friend anymore and everything they had built will go to waste.

"Merlin," (Y/N) grasps his hand, immediately gaining his attention, "whatever has you stressing out, it's okay. I'm here, and I always will be. We'll face it together."

Taking a deep breath, he had them close their eyes, before gently leading them in the right direction. Glancing around to make sure everything was in place, he tried his best to calm his nerves.

'You can do this,' he thought to himself, 'you can tell dragons what to do, and they listen. This should be easy.'

"Merlin?"

"Oh, right, sorry. You can open your eyes now."

Opening their eyes, (Y/N) gaped at the scene before them. A rug laid out on the grass, all their favourite snacks and fruit laid out in front of them. Glancing between the dinner and Merlin in a combination of joy and surprise, they struggled for words.

"You did all of this?"

"Well, I may have stolen some things from the kitchen, but... I hope you like it?"

(Y/N) laughed - one of Merlin's favourite sounds - and pulled him over to sit down.

"Thank you."

Just their smile was enough to calm Merlin's nerves, and everything melted away as they began to eat, telling stories and laughing. Everything between them seemed perfect.

That is, everything except for the unsaid feelings.

As they finished and the moon began to rise, they cleared up a bit before laying down to stargaze.

"Star-gazing was a good idea," (Y/N) said softly after a while, turning their head to face Merlin, "but I have to ask, what was this all for?"

"What? Aren't I allowed to just spend time with my best friend?" Merlin replied, a little too quickly.

"Of course, but that's not what I mean. You seemed really nervous earlier. I can tell when you want to say something, Merlin."

He turned his head away in embarrassment, so (Y/N) shifted their body to properly face him.

"Hey, look at me," they said, placing their hand on his cheek and tilting his head back towards them, "you know you can always tell me anything. We've been through so much together. Nothing will scare me away."

Merlin gazed into their eyes in silence for a moment, before speaking up, voice barely a whisper, "It's hard to say it out loud. Can I just show you?"

"Of course. Whatever's best for you."

Slowly, he moved one hand to rest on (Y/N)'s cheek, hesitating slightly as his gaze shifted between their captivating (E/C) eyes and plump lips. Finally, deciding it's either now or never, he leaned forward, tilting his head as he captured their lips in a tentative kiss. He felt them stiffen slightly, his heart racing as his mind flooded with unwanted thoughts. This was the end. They were going to shove him away and never speak to him again.

But then, the thing he expected least of all happened; they actually reciprocated the kiss.

Their hand moved to his hair, butterflies going wild in their stomach. They never expected him to feel the same way about them, and now they couldn't even think straight. The only thing they could concentrate on was the feeling of his lips on their own.

Eventually, the sweet moment came to an end, leaving each of them completely breathless, faces only inches apart. They gazed into each other's eyes, catching their breath while they both tried to process what just occurred.

Then, all at once Merlin freaked out and started a rant, desperately trying to explain himself. Apology after apology flooded out of his mouth, raving on and on about how much he loves them and how he probably ruined everything and should have just kept his feelings all to himself.

(Y/N) cut him off with a small kiss on his lips, leaving him staring at them in shock when they pulled away.

"I love you too, Merlin. I thought I was so obvious about it," she laughed softly, gently running her fingers through his hair. "I'm so lucky to have you in my life, and I'm glad you feel the same."

His shock vanished, and he gave that heartwarming smile of his as he wrapped his arms around them, pulling them close. "You have no idea how happy that makes me."

And so they stayed there like that, laying and enjoying each other's company in the comfort of their mutual feelings. They stayed there until they decided it was time to head back and face Gaius' concerned wrath on them staying out so late. But for once, it didn't bother them listening to his lecture, because their lives had just changed for the better.

[diaryofomellas]

(I hope you don’t mind people sending you headcanons. If you do please feel free to ignore this).

I may be doing some creative interpretations here, but if so it is all in the name of shippy angst feels. That comment about the farm possibly being marris stead made me have this thought. The way I interpreted the process of the process of the part of her soul that was frozen in time seeing the memories of the part of her that wasn’t, I don’t think it was in order. After all, we saw her jumping from Teldrassil to quel’thalas to possibly marris stead, which are all places that would have strong emotions tied to them. Which is why I think maybe she is seeing the strongest memories with the strongest emotions tied to them first.

And i think that among her strongest memories of Nathanos post death would be the events of dark mirror. And if that’s the case there is a very real possibility that the way the part of her seeing those memories for the first time learned that 1) Nathanos was dead 2) he had become undead was seeing him as was at the start of dark mirror, when he was practically falling apart.

Just a fun little thought I had :)

I don't mind at all, please keep them coming!

And I think this is a very neat idea! I definitely agree that she was relieving key moments in her life.

The place where she dies is clear. Someone pointed out to me that this might be Windrunner Spire but Uther is saying "her path began where yours ended" so it's clear he's referring to her death. Makes more sense that the building we see behind her is one of the spires of Silvermoon.

There was a very recent, very violent fight there. There are discarded weapons on the ground, the siege machines, the fire... Plus, as the camera moves around, you see that there are still green places around them, so it looks like the scar.

There's Teldrassil, the moment she destroyed someone else's homeland like Arthas did to her. The moment she's struggling with the most because it makes her look just as bad as her own abuser.

There's a very clear callback to the Warbringers cinematic here and the conversation with Delaryn here. I know some people disagree, but I've always thought that it was Delaryn who changed Sylvanas' mind about destroying what she wanted to keep before. In A Good War she makes it clear she wanted to conquer Teldrassil to make the Alliance want to retake it. She knew that if they destroyed it completely, the Alliance would retaliate against the Undercity. What Delaryn said clearly triggered something in her that made her act on emotion rather than logic.

We are told in Before the Storm that her warmer emotions have mostly disappeared with undeath, but she retained the anger, which is probably why she made such a brutal move. And that's why it's so hard for Ranger General Sylvanas to understand why Banshee Sylvanas could possibly do such a thing.

These are both very painful and horrible moments for several reasons.

But then there's the farm. It's clearly a human farm in the style of Lordaeron/Stormwind. You can still see these in some places. It's quiet and peaceful and the birds are singing.

Taliesin said the crops were wheat. I think it looks more like corn...? But I don't know plants tbh xD I'm hoping I'm wrong because we know than Nathanos grew wheat in his farm.

It could totally be the moment when she finds him and liberates him from the influence of the Lich King. However, I think the farm and/or the crops would not be looking so good after the scourge passed through...

Which makes me think that this is probably one of the times she visited him while they were still alive. A happy memory, a place where she could finally hide and escape her torment.

And, honestly, this thought really warms my heart.

[fanfic-mind]

Blood on my hands (all that i've gained and all that i've lost)

pairing: merthur

warnings: non

status: fanfic draft, Part 1/? (~ 2300)

It’s yet again an hour of need for Camelot. But the weapon they need to safe kingdom and people comes with a price. Only those who prove that they are powerful and wicked can receive it. The knights of Camelot don’t have enough evil deeds to be worthy of the sword. They think everything is lost - until  Merlin speaks up...

A magic reveal story in which Merlin makes good use of being a morally grey character. Because, yea, Merlin-is-the-victim-reveals are swell and all but he is capable of making his own decisions and some of them are pretty shady. There is still a good amount of Uther bashing included.

Somehow they get into a situation that requires someone with blood on their hands - figuratively (otherwise it wouldn't be a problem because seeing how often Arthur and Merlin and also Gwaine get wounded by just existing they probably wouldn't even have to injure anyone)

Maybe a god of the Old Religion guards a weapon they need to kill the magic beast of the week or to destroy a cursed item.

In any case: they are really desperate. People are dying and this is their last hope, their last resort.

To their misfortune, this weapon is guarded by a very cunning and wicked god and they will only give their weapon to someone who has the power and the will to use it for evil deeds

There is a test that must be passed by the one who wants to receive the weapon. They must prove that they did enough evil deeds to be worthy of it.

Arthur quickly fails his test because despite some wrongs he's done he is way too just and noble to be wicked

The only knight that seems to get at least a few moments more of consideration is Leon who has done some terrible things - however under Uther's orders which isn't quite powerful enough

"Ahh, Uther Pendragon," the god muses, "Him i would have given the weapon. Such rage and blind hatred and, oh yes, so much blood."

Arthur grits his teeth and sets his jar. he wonders if his father would be disappointed in him for not living up to this legacy of his. he wonders - not for the first time - why he wanted to be like his father once and how he managed to end up being so different.

The knights discuss their strategy. non of them is wicked enough to pass the test. they have wicked people in Camelot's dungeons. But Camelot is three day rides off and their quest is really urgent.

They could separate and seek for wicked folk, but the chances seem slim and the risk of them keeping the weapon as they receive it seems too big

People are dying and they need to do something now.

"there must be another way to destroy it," Lancelot suggests, though they've been over this. His eyes stray to Merlin, but Merlin seems caught up in thought.

If there was an easier way to do this, Merlin and Gaius would have come up with it by now. asking the god had been their idea in the first place.

"What if there isn't?" Gwaine argues heatedly. "We can't have waisted six days for nothing. This is probably our last chance."

"so what do you suggest?" Lancelot interrupts somewhat irritated. They temperaments are heated at this point. And suddenly knowing each other’s worst deeds doesn’t exactly lighten the mood. "All of us failed the test. i wouldn't have thought that I'd ever be angry about being found too good and noble."

Gwaine shrugs with a grimace. He hadn't thought that he'd ever be deemed good and noble in the first place.

"maybe there's a way out of that," Arthur says. He hasn’t spoken in a while and all heads turn towards him.

"what do you mean, Sire?" Leon asks, looking uneasy as if he already knows and doesn't like it.

"If you're not noble enough, you proof your nobility by doing good deeds," Arthur starts matter of fact. "so, logically, if I'm not wicked enough, i prove my wickedness by doing an evil deed."

The god smiles a toothy smile.

"To murder just anyone obviously isn't evil enough" Arthur says, looking at the god with disgust. "so it must be somthing worse. murdering a friend, for example."

"My king, with all due respect, this is madness," Leon say carefully.

"sir Leon, that's the point." Arthur says sourly.

"is that really it?" Gwaine shouts at the god who watches his outburst unimpressed. "You want us to slaughter each other?"

the god laughs, distant and hollow and the earth seems to vibrate with it. "The weapon can only be taken by those of power who are wicked and cunning enough to wield it." the god repeats his earlier words.

"So there's not even a guarantee," Gwaine says, throwing up his arms. "Arthur, let's just leave and see if we can find something else."

"there is nothing else, Gwaine, you said so yourself!" Arthur returns. His expression is incredibly pained but determined in a way that makes them all shudder. Leon, Percival and Lancelot unconsciously get into fighting stance.

Gwaine takes a few steps to put himself between the king and Merlin who is the most vulnerable

Arthur nods to himself, seemingly coming to a decision in his head.  Tehn he draws his sword . "If either of you kills me while i try to kill you, that might be enough too" he muses

They all stare at him in horror, unable to believe that he will go through with this.

"My people are dying," Arthur says, his tone pleading, "if i have to sacrifice my good conscience to help them - well, it is a price i must be willing to pay. I'm sorry. But all of you swore to protect Camelot at all costs too."

Arthur halts for am moment then nods grimly. "Don't try to sacrifice yourself. I'm sure that's not what he's looking for" Arthur nods towards the stony god who smiles.

"you can't be serious" Mordred whispers.

"I'm afraid i am. Now, it's been an honour. truely. and i hope - i hope I'll still have your respect afterwards. Though, i can understand if you can't trust me again."

"that's enough."

They all turn around. Partly, because they had forgotten about Merlin who has been uncharacteristically quiet the whole time. and partly because they have rarely heard this sort of tone from him. harsh and demanding. a voice more fit for a king than his manservant.

They stare at him and he makes short eye contact with Arthur before he steps forward, in front of the statue that the god is using as a vessel.

"test me." Merlin says. his voice is determined and his shoulders are set.

Arthur let's out a short laugh, because clearly this is absurd, right? Merlin is the best and kindest of all of them. Actually, coming to think of it, if he's really honest, Merlin probably is the reason Arthur is not like his father. Merlin makes him better. Merlin makes him want to be better.

A few of the knights share his sentiments, laughing slightly hysterical with tension but still perplexed over this development.

Only Lancelot steps forward with a frown as if to pull him back, but merlin raises a hand without looking at him and he stops in his tracks.

Arthur who was about to say something stops too.

The god looks more alive than before he seems to stretch himself to his full height as if he has waited for this

"welcome" he starts as he has with all of them. "young warlock, tell me your deeds."

lancelot tenses, casting a worried glance back at the king who stands there, sword still drawn, eyes fixed in Merlin as if he doesn't understand any of this

Lancelot doesn't either. Even if Merlin is a sorcerer - what evil deeds can he possibly have done? Saving Arthur's life over and over without ever seeking credit doesn't have a ring of evil to him.

"I am Merlin, and they call my Emrys." Merlin starts.

Some of the Knights gasp. Emrys is a name they know by now.

Lancelot wonders whether Merlin considers his identity an evil deed in itself. The possibility breaks his heart a bit.

"I was born with magic. I am the most powerful sorcerer there is."

Merlin takes a deep breath.

"i lied to all my friends. I let them think they can trust me, that they know me. But they never will. I could kill them just by looking at them. I am magic and i killed many behind friends backs and before their eyes, but never revealed myself to them"

"I am a slayer of my own people," he continues, his voice hard, "I killed many creatures and men of magic to protect their murderers - the king and his son. I did it out of self-righteousness and out of selfishness because...” for a moment, Merlin halts, but then he continuous with the same hard tone as before, as if something is forced out of him, but he wants to stand for it.

“I loved Arthur more than my own people. i let many of them die even though i could have helped them if i had revealed myself. But i couldn't bear the thought to be separated from him so i stayed quiet and watched them burn."

The god nods Merlin on. They all stand in shock. They know from before that Merlin won't be able to stop telling his deeds before the god thinks he is done.

"I killed the witch Nimueh even though she told me i have to pay with a life to save Arthur's. Instead of giving my life as i promised, i killed her."

"I killed Mary Collins, Afanc, Aulfric, Sophia, Cornelius Sigan, Myror and many more. "

Merlin's voice falters a bit, but he seems to pull himself together visibly, because his voice is clearer again when he keeps speaking.

"My betrayal to my people is so great, my wickedness so deep, i considered to kill a child on the mere possibility that he could threaten what was mine in the future."

Mordred makes a quiet stricken noise.

No one dares take their eyes off Merlin, but Merlin himself turns his head slowly.

There is a gasp of horror when they all see that his eyes are glowing yellow with magic.

Up until now, no one except Mordred and Lancelot had truly believed it.

"I tried to kill Mordred when he was a child and i wish his death even now though he is kind and serves Arthur."

Lancelot looks at Merlin with complete bewilderment as Mordred sobs.

Merlin doesn't answer Lancelot's gaze, he just turns around again.

They can hear him take in another breath and it sounds more halting than before.

"I knew that my friend had magic and i saw her turmoil and her fear of being killed. of being burned by her own kin like all of the others. but instead of helping her, i left her in the dark. I told her to trust me - she trusted my - and then i poisoned her."

Merlin stops for a moment, his voice sounds rough as if speaking becomes quickly more difficult.

"I gave Morgana poison in full intend and watched her as she died and i regretted when she was healed."

"Only i had the power and knowledge to save her, but i turned my head from her suffering, i killed her when she didn't know better than to turn to her sister, it was me that made her what she is today."

There is another short pause. Lancelot is desperate to see Merlin's face. To demand how this all really went. Because though he knows that Merlin is bound to say the truth by the power of the god, he still thinks there must be a mistake or a trick. This is not Merlin. Merlin would never...would he?

"I conspired with and freed the dragon that attacked Camelot which led to the death of many innocent people. I attempted to kill Arthur on multiple occasions."

Lancelot frowns. This one he knows to be untrue. Merlin didn't want to kill Arthur. it was Morgana's doing that he went after him.

"i saved Uther Pendragon's life - more than once. I let him live even though he slaughtered my people. I saved his life even though i didn't have to. I never killed him even though i had many opportunities."

Merlin pauses then, looking up at the god.

"Do i really need to go on?" he asks and it sounds almost indifferent. except they know Merlin and they know how his face looks when he sounds this way.

The god leans their head to one side slowly. the stone his vessel is made of groans.

"You are worthy, young warlock. More than you know. Into your hands i command my sword."

Suddenly, there is noise and light and they cover their eyes, everyone except for Merlin and Mordred.

They can't be sure but they think they can hear Merlin's voice through it all, speaking a foreign tongue. Then, it's over.

When the air clears, Merlin stands alone, the stone vessel of the god has crumbled to pieces, a big sword in his hand. For just a moment, when he turns around to face them, he looks nothing like Merlin at all. His eyes are golden, and his face is grim, lips pressed into a thin line. His posture is straight and majestic and he holds the sword like a warrior. His appearance strikes them with fear. He looks like power incarnate.

The others notice from the corners of their eyes that Mordred kneels before him. and even as they are completely bewildered, they have an urge to do the same.

The next moment though, it's all gone, and Merlin looks like he's never handled a sword before. His eyes are blue and his cheeks messy with dust and tears. He sinks to his knees and the weapon falls from his hands - is pushed from his fingers as if through magic, landing on the ground with a strange sound.

Merlin looks after the sword with disgust clear on his face. Then he looks up and suddenly he looks afraid.

To be continued

[supercalvin]

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

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

NEVER SPEAK TO ME OR MY KIDS EVER AGAIN

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

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

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

Prompts + Ficlets

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…Well… He’s my boyfriend. Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Da.”

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

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

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

Which left Balinor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’hanks”

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

“You know, I really do like Merlin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

There was tension pouring off Arthur in waves.

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

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

“You’re invited.”

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

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

“I mean…uh,” Arthur blinked.

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

“You wouldn’t mind?”

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

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

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

Arthur looked baffled, but he also looked pleased.

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

***

Prompts + Ficlets

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

[and-damntheconsequences]

Okay wait actually I have more to say on Gwen, Merlin, and Arthur as a trio, that I only kinda hinted at in the tags of the other post.

As much as I love Gwaine, if anyone deserved to be the third person in the Merlin and Arthur group, with the title of "Strength", it was Gwen ((this being aside from the fact that I think it was a crime to seem to label Gwaine as of equal importance to the other two in what felt like a very important episode and then just never mention it again)).

Because Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur, were all so important to each other. Not only because of their closeness and friendship to each other, nor especially just the destiny that surrounded them as Once and Future King, his Queen, and Emrys. But because they needed each other. They shaped each other into the people they became.

Without the others, they would all have been very different people.

Arthur could easily have become a near carbon copy of Uther — yes, he had his doubts about his father, but that was largely because of Morgana. Fighting against Morgana without anyone to fall back on, without anyone to put a stop to his arrogance, he would have closed off. He would have turned his fear (because that's largely what it was for Uther) and hate of magic into violence and cruelty. For all that he always wanted to be a "good king" he would only ever have really had his father's influence as to what that meant, and probably never truly learned how to be what people needed. It was Merlin, and then Gwen, who made him challenge himself and who directly challenged his rudeness and arrogance. That shaped him into the King he became more than any other influence. Merlin allowed him to make fun of himself, and Gwen wasn't afraid to tell him the truth when it had to be said. He needed them. (He also would have been dead in the first episode without Merlin, but he needed "Emrys" for more than keeping him alive)

Merlin would have been entirely different, perhaps becoming like Morgana along the way. Without a purpose, he believed that his magic made him a monster. He was afraid. Fear of others and himself would likely have turned him against Uther for revenge, and then perhaps Arthur as well. Though Arthur and Gwen didn't know who he really was, so Lancelot and Gaius take some credit here, I don't think he would have been the person he was without them. Arthur gave him purpose, but more than that, Arthur genuinely gave him hope. For all that "destiny" told him, he wouldn't have stayed so loyal to Arthur if he hadn't had genuine faith in him. Because of him, Merlin had faith that the kingdom could be better, and there were better people within it. But Gwen was so important to that too. She was his first friend in Camelot. She gave him a friendship he didn't find elsewhere on the same level until quite a bit later. More than that, it was her ideals of kindness and forgiveness and compassion that he followed and that kept him from being so jaded and broken when things fell apart. He saved Uther in 1x12 because she didn't believe that revenge was right. Arthur showed him hope and Gwen showed him friendship and compassion, and he needed both.

Gwen would never have risen above being the serving girl she was without both of them. Merlin was a friend who gave her courage, who made her feel worthy and happy, who sat with her when she needed a friend. She needed someone, especially after her father had gone and Morgana turned against them, to remind her how amazing she was, and Merlin always did that, and allowed her to have fun too. And he protected her in more ways than the magical ones, no matter what (when she was banished, she'd lost everything — Merlin must have been the one to send her to his mother and make sure she'd be safe). Arthur gave her confidence and love and truly convinced her that she was deserving of respect, even when he was stubborn and difficult. Look at the difference between Gwen speaking against Arthur the first time in 1x10, when she apologises and panics, and when she speaks against Agravaine in 4x02. She's grown up into someone who knows her own mind and is strong, and she couldn't have done that without Arthur and Merlin both. By season 5, she is a queen and sure of herself enough to make the tough decisions necessary (I wish we'd seen more of it, but think what happened with Sefa), while also still being the kind and gentle soul she always was.

I do have some issues with their character developments, I think all of them deserved to grow as people more than they did — but maybe that's part of the tragedy.... Merlin never saw himself as having worth outside of Arthur and destiny because he still felt the need to cling to that purpose and never grew past it. Arthur never truly confronted his own beliefs and prejudices and learned from them. Gwen did lose a little of herself as Queen and deserved more of a chance to be her own person outside of what Arthur directly gave her.

But they needed each other in everything they did, magic or not, though that played a huge part. Take any one of them away and the others would have fallen to pieces before anything would have even begun.

[scoooby]

The Reason to Live (is to Die For This)

Read on AO3

Continue to read on Tumblr 

Beta: @tenderlyannoyinglight

Word count: 6.3k

Trigger warning: descriptions of pain, death and violence.

Relationship: Merlin/Arthur *if you don't like merthur it can be taken as gen if you skip the last hundred words

Summary:

"I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't.

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of. He should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him. But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him."

In which Merlin is stabbed instead of Arthur. Oops.

Merlin doesn't know where the blood came from, flowing down and not stopping. There's so much of it staining the ground and his clothes, forming a puddle, he feels dizzy and nauseous looking at it. It's been almost ten years, but the sight of injury still repulses him. It scares him even more because he can't find its source. No, it terrifies him. Whose blood is it? Where is he, exactly? But he tries not to dwell on it and wonders where Arthur is. Wasn't he just here? Silly Arthur, always disappearing.

He giggles, then sobers up. He has more important things to worry about. Like the blood. Blood is so red. Like strawberries. He wishes he could make strawberries right now, Freya likes them. Speaking of which, he should probably talk to her soon.

He touches his hand to his abdomen, startled when he feels something wet and sticky. Oh.

Oh.

It's his blood. He's been maimed. He's the one dying.

I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't .

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of, and he should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him.  But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him.

It shouldn’t be. He should be more carefree and alive and happy, like he is now. And he’s so happy.

He distantly hears a thud behind him, as if something heavy, clad in metal, had fallen.  Swords are made of metal. So is armour. Stupid armour. It takes so fucking long to put armour on Arthur.

He feels hysteria rise up in his throat, he feels like laughing, He doesn’t know why. He’s been stabbed, he should care more. But those thoughts don’t even hit him. He wants to run, to jump. He could fly, like Kilgharrah. Or Aithusa. Can Aithusa fly? He would have to ask Morgana.

But Morgana doesn’t like him.

Maybe Balinor would know when dragons start to fly. He knows a lot, right?

Oh, but he can’t. Balinor is dead. Balinor is extremely dead and rotting. Hunith would be sad if she found out, he doesn’t want her to be sad. She deserves the world. He won’t tell her.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, even though there’s no one there. “I won’t tell.”

He tries to get up, but his knees are weak. He doesn't know why his ears have started to ring. Hhhhh. Hhh. That’s all he hears. It sounds weird. Weird. Weirdweirdweirdweirdweird. What a word, All words should be like it.

Everything is just a blob of grey and black. All he sees is a spinning world and green spots in the corner of his vision. He doesn’t mind, he likes green. He tries to say something, to scream maybe, yet all that comes out is a small, meagre groan.

He feels his eyes closing- And that's it. That's all there is-numbness, and then nothing.

Arthur is not ashamed to admit that he killed Mordred. The knight almost killed Merlin and dared to smile after doing so. Arthur couldn't just let him get away with it, no matter how much it pained him. Guilt doesn’t even come to mind. Mordred isn’t worth it - he tells himself as he walks, knees shaking, towards his manservant's body laying still on the ground.

He's bleeding at an alarming rate. His eyes are closed; his face deathly pale. Arthur doesn't bother with modesty as he rips the stupid brown jacket off (one would think he would come into battle wearing proper armor, at least). He had imagined doing it many times before, in entirely different circumstances, maybe with a bed underneath them.

Merlin torso is littered with scars as wood is with lines. Most of them are healed, so that only white lines are painting Merlin’s pale skin, while others are red, but still no cause for intervention. An enormous hole inflicted near his lungs, however does. Arthur’s not new to blood or injuries, but looking at this one does make him wanna vomit.

He stops, unsure of what to do. His hands hover over the body. What can he do, dammit? He knows first aid, Gaius taught him some when he was little. Nothing has ever come ��close or as grave as to this. He has been taught to call for the help of nurses, never to do it himself. He has to stop the bleeding, but how ? He's supposed to tie something around it; he remembers that much at least. He looks towards Merlin's face, exhausted and un-moving, a red cloth loosely tied around his neck. All he has to do to stop the blood temporarily, until he delivers Merlin to safe, more medically trained hands, is to tie the stupid red neckerchief around and hope for it to be the right thing.

He prays as he puts it around the gash. He's not entirely sure who he's praying to. It’s an unconscious reflex to beg for health. To be able to say it is someone else's fault, because he knows it's his. He should never have let Merlin come in front of him; let the sword pierce him. Damn him; damn Merlin; damn Mordred; damn the War; damn Morgana; damn everything.

It sickens him, all of it. This cave, this life. The air is dirty. The metallic smell of blood engulfing everything and making it its own. Throwing up would sound like a good idea if Arthur didn’t have more pressing matter at hand.

The air also smells of disappointment. What is he even doing? He's just two years into his reign, the army is practically gone. So many knights are dying in his name, right now,  with their belief in him. And now Merlin is going to die too.

No. Merlin can't die, I won't allow it. His resolve hardens as he picks him up in his arms, Merlin’s head on his shoulder, back bent so gravity can keep the blood inside. and carries him through the mass of dead bodies. Arthur places him on the horse and climbs on behind him, arms on the reins and still supporting Merlin’s head.

It's a long ride home. You have to make it. For him. Is the only thought he clings to.

The aftermath of the war lingers everywhere. Bodies within quarter of a mile of another, their sunken eyes staring at them as the ride past.

No one stops them, too busy focusing on their own injured. Arthur's head is down to not see them. They probably hate him. With all of his being, he agrees.

Morgana, from an early age, showed to be better fitted for the crown. Might have even made Camelot a better place, once upon a time, in a time long gone.

Now they're both just as terrible and ill-fitted for his home.

He tries not to think of her, it’s too painful. So, he focuses on saving Merlin again. Merlin. His best friend, who he had always hoped would become something more. His rock, the only one he could trust. Something he has proved over and over again, but something he had realised only during his father's funeral.

Uther’s death is a recent memory. Arthur had cried until there were no tears left to shed over anyone else after. Not out of love or grievance. His father’s love for him was long gone before he himself was. But because the moment Uther’s life ended, Arthur’s reign began and the feeling of no support or companionship with it. Morgana was gone. Ygraine had never been there to begin with, and the overwhelming responsibility hit him- hard . He had felt so alone. There was no one there for him. No one cared.

Then Merlin had placed a hand on his shoulder, whispered to him, told him he was going to be a great king and that he was sorry. As if Merlin was at fault. As if he wasn't the only reason Arthur was still standing.

It made him see more clearly that he might not ruin the kingdom- his kingdom. A spark of heat, mixed with joy and sorrow ignited like wildfire spread all over his chest, then back, arms and legs followed soon, and finally his face; he returned Merlin’s sentiment with a warm smile.

Maybe that's when he had fallen in love, or when he had realized that Merlin was the only one he could trust. He's still not sure which one it was, maybe the love had come slowly, or maybe, and just the seed had been planted back then, or maybe it had come fact and crashing.

And now he was going to be gone too. Arthur sighs, his eyes drooping from a week of no sleep. Everyone leaves. They always leave. Maybe he still had some tears left.

The dark is disorienting. Is he sleeping? Is he even alive? He has to be, he has to make sure Arthur gets back home.

"Emrys," he hears someone say. No, not someone- Morgana. Her voice is unmistakable, ragged and sickly sweet at the same time. She had always been like that, even before, a dizzying array of opposites.

"Witch," he whispers. "Why have you brought me here?"

The smugness in her voice is apparent, "That's very hypocritical of you, isn't it? After all, you're magical too. More than me, even." She didn't answer his question. "All alone now, aren’t you? No one to save you." He shakes his head; how did he manage to get here? The last thing he was doing was shouting at Arthur to bring him along ("I always thought you were the bravest man I knew." “That’s not fair.") Arthur's face had been so disappointed, and it had broken Merlin's heart. But if the war was still going on, then no one would be coming for him. He will have to get out of this by himself.

"What. Do. You. Want." He grits out, he doesn't have the patience, nor the time for this, he has to help them. The knights are strong, but even the strongest of human kind wouln’t last long against an immortal army. He has to be there with them, to help them, to keep them alive. No matter how much his words hurt, Merlin will still save them, because that is what he does.

She laughs. " You."

"I don't have time for games, leave me be."- turning his head around trying to locate Morgana’s voice; the darkness, the nothingness, hasn’t changed.

"Oh, but why would I do that?" Her cold hands are taking hold of his chin, nails digging into his face. She's right in front of him. Her silky dress pooling onto his feet, the edges of her dirty hair grazing his arms. "I have you right where I want you, no one is going to come to save you. I only need one thing from you." She pauses, her fingers snap; there are fires surrounding them in a circle. He struggles against the bonds of rope he didn't realize were tied onto him, but it's of no use.

She’s clearer now, seen better days too. Bags under her crazed eyes, a ragged and torn black gown, a cloak is gracing her hunched back. Frankly, it looks like she hasn’t taken a bath in months. She doesn’t even resemble the Morgana he used to know, the compassionate and cunning one.

This is his creation; he is the reason she is like this. He never should have listened to the fucking dragon, he should have told her about his magic, maybe things would be different then.

"I won't do anything for you,” he hisses. “I would rather die.”

“Oh, you will.” She says it like it’s a fact as if it’s inevitable that he will die soon, and a tremor goes from his head to his toes in a matter of a second. He’s supposed to be immortal, supposed to live for a long, long time. He’s not scared of dying, he supposes. He’s scared of what will happen afterwards. “And it will hurt, I can tell you that, it will hurt so much.” She inches even closer, impossibly so. “But that won’t be the worst part, no. The worst part will be that no one will care . Arthur won’t care. No matter what you have done for him, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

He’s silent as her words sink in. Sow themselves into his brain, into his heart, tries to convince himself it’s not true.

“Arthur won’t rescue you. You need his help, but he doesn’t have your back. He’s not even looking for you. If you’re drowning, if you’re about to crack, will he even care?” Something on his face makes her look smug like she’s already won. “Face it, Merlin.” That’s the first time she’s called him Merlin and not Emrys since she found out. “You don’t matter to him. He thinks you’re disposable, But I know better.”

Merlin looks up at her. "You're sick," he spits, although it sounds small, unsure. "He would look for me. I know he would." The statement is more for himself than her.

She gives a small, cruel smile as if to convey to him how pathetic he is. “All I need you to do,” she continues, “is to tell me where you are once this ends.”

He's about to ask her what she means, when the fires go out and it all turns dark again.

He stops in the forest, to rest, though he's not sure if Merlin will even survive by the end of it. He lays him down against a rock and lights a fire. He has to make something to feed them, or they'll die of starvation before Morgana's knights get to them. He surveys the clearing they're in, and he's about to walk towards what he is almost sure is an edible plant (emphasis on the almost, kings don't always learn about herbs), when he hears Merlin whispers. He snaps back, his eyes are open, a once tantalizing clear blue now murky and grey.

"Arthur" he murmurs. "Art- I-"

He holds up a hand "I'm here Merlin," he says. "I'm here but don't speak, you need to preserve your energy."

He doesn't listen. "I-I need to tell you something and," he gasps, trying to breathe, "and I need you to listen without interrupting."

Arthur wants to tell him whatever he needs to say probably isn't as important as his life, but the look on his face tells him that it might be.

Merlin shudders, clearly exhausted. "I ha-have magic," he rasps. Arthur's mind goes blank. It's a joke, it has to be. Merlin can't have betrayed him too. He takes a step toward him, to reach out maybe, but thinks better of it.

"Stop being silly," he commands, but it comes out shaky.

Merlin eyes seem wet. When he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a bare whisper, "I ne-needed to tell you. In, in case, I-I, uh, die."

"You can't die." He clasps Merlin shoulder this time, leaning down. "But stop delusioning yourself Merlin. You don't have magic, I would know." It's not real, he would've been able to tell. This can't be true, it can't.

"And I use it for you," he continues, seeing his expression. "Only-only for you."

"Shut up," Arthur whispers. Merlin flinches back. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I-," he starts, but he cuts him off.

"Do not speak to me."

Arthur looks at him, something rising in his throat. He thought it would be bile, but it's laughter. Of course, of course, the only person he trusts has magic.

He stands up and walks away, until he's sure Merlin won't be able to see him.

Merlin’s heart sinks as he stares at Arthur’s back, she was right. He told him about his magic, and now he was leaving him to die in a forest, never mind the reason he was dying was that he had taken a sword for Arthur. Never mind that he had spent a decade protecting him, trying to stop hundreds of people from killing someone he himself hadn’t particularly cared for at the beginning. Never mind the fact that he had sacrificed so much, just so he could be comfortable living in a castle built on the sins of his father and the corpses of magic users. Ten years, all down the drain. Merlin wants to laugh, of course, it comes done to this. To Arthur abandoning him because he told him something he didn’t want to hear. Fuck him, fuck the pendragons. Couldn’t let him die in peace.

He stews in it for a while, too tired to cry. Too sick of everything to even care anymore. He won’t tell her though; couldn’t let it all go to waste. She’ll find out anyway, he knows, she has her sources.

Yet, he has more important things to focus on, Arthur will either come back, or he won’t. But his wound stays. The giddiness is gone, replaced with something else. Something warm, like a fire in his stomach.

He presses down on his abdomen.  as he sighs sharply through his nose, it helps with the increasing pain, stabbing his bone and overtaking his senses.

His lungs struggle to breathe, it feels as if they’re filling with water as he drowns; his whole body burns as his back arches and writhes. It’s like there’s thousands of needles being pushed into him from everywhere, as if the needles had been pulled out from a fire before being inserted into him- red hot and painful, so painful. He wants to stand up, to run and jump into a lake, but his legs feel like jelly, he can’t move. It hurts so much. He hears distant echoes of screams; they’re probably coming from him.  And just like that, it starts to ebb. The needles being pulled out hurts more, but the small burns they leave behind are definitely better than it was before. He slumps down against a tree, numb.

He feels his eyes droop. His pain is still shooting through his body, but at least he has some time before he has to feel it again.

He wakes up again in some time, not sure when. It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. He’s just tired. He lays there for what feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t even set, so it was probably a few minutes.

To his immense surprise, he comes back. Arthur… comes back.

"Come back to finish the job, huh?" Merlin snarls, refusing to believe that maybe he came back to help him because he cared for him. It's too good to be true. Arthur is compassionate and he is kind, but not to magic users. "One stab wound wasn't enough for you?"

Arthur's already been saved from the imminent death of his which has been prophesied for a few centuries already, Merlin no longer has to worry, and he doesn't want to either. If this is his reward, to be called a coward, to be ignored and hut out, what everything had been leading up to, he might as well have died years ago. He used to wake up with only Arthur in mind, He loved him, still does. He’s not going to go out any other way.

He was the reason he lived, and he is the reason Merlin is going to die.

Arthur recoils in shock, his mouth is hanging open a little.

Good , Merlin thinks, he needs a wake-up call.

"What?" He asks.

Merlin hopes his expression can convey his feelings and how unamused he is because his throat is clogged up and he's too exhausted to say a word more. He may be a warlock, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is in unbearable pain.

Arthur looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "You- you thought I was going to kill you?"

There's no reply. Arthur comes forward, stops when he sees how scared the other man becomes. He sits down onto the cold, hard ground. "Merlin," he says softly, "I, I'm angry at you, I'm not going to lie, but I would never, never kill you. I- how could you even-" he trails off, he kicks some dirt glumly. "Just, we’ll talk about this when we're back home, okay? When you're better."

Arthur doesn't know how Merlin could think that. He would never- he didn’t even imagine doing anything other than demoting him, at most. He feels betrayed, and he feels let down. But this is Merlin. If he practiced magic, there must have been a good reason.

Fuck. Has he been that bad of a friend? Has he been so distant that Merlin thought Arthur was going to kill him? He knows he should be angrier, and just a few hours ago, he was. He was ready to yell and to scream and to rage, but then he thought of Morgana. About how he used to love her, and how she changed when he turned her away, He doesn’t want the same to happen to Merlin, doesn’t want him to change too. If Merlin dies because Arthur abandons him, he will never forgive himself.

So, as he snuffs out the fire and tries to cover up his tracks, because he knows Morgana will be looking for them, he doesn’t say anything. When he picks Merlin up and places him on the horse, he tries to be as gentle as he can. When he squeezes Merlin's hand in what he hopes is comforting, he just hopes Merlin doesn’t hate him completely.  

Merlin floats in and out of consciousness for what he thinks is a day, but he can’t be sure. When he first wakes up, he’s trotting along on a horse, Arthur behind him, and then he’s in front of a fire, sitting on the ground, then the horse again. Once, he wakes up to strangled screams, but he’s not sure what was going on. He’s too scared to ask. The fifth time he wakes up, however, it’s different. It’s not a coincidence, it’s on purpose, Arthur is shaking him awake. He makes out that they are next to the lake, where he has sent away so many corpses already.

It's calm and serene, obvious to all that is happening around it.

“Wha-” he starts to say blearily, he knows they haven’t reached Camelot yet, so what is going on?

Arthur silences him by placing a hand on his mouth. “We’ve got company,” he whispers. Merlin stiffens up, never a good thing. Not when you’re trekking through the woods, your companion and you both in bad conditions, both starving, one run through with a sword. Not when your companion is the ruler of kingdom which has war being waged against it.

“Arthur,” he says, his voice still sounding heavy and drowsy.

“What?” His mouth feels swollen, and he is incredibly tired, but he can tell he’s agitated, so he doesn't beat around. “Use the sword."

He looks surprised, the expression he hates. The one he uses whenever he realises that he underestimates everyone around him. "I think I know how to use a sword better than you do, Mer lin."

Prat.

"I mean, don't use your old sword, use Excalibur. It can kill anything. " Saying even this much feels like he just ran from Ealdor to Camelot without break, but he manages.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes widen. "Did you hear that?" His voice is low but urgent. Merlin blinks, he didn't hear anything other than the wind and- oh, he hears it now. There's distant screaming, coming from a woman from what it sounds like. It's barely noticeable, but the sounds of footsteps and something heavy being dragged on the forest floor towards them is much, much louder.

They exchange glances, only for a second. Merlin gestures towards the sword and Arthur nods, not questioning him for once.

Merlin tries to speak, he wants to help, but his throat is becoming clogged, and his vision is becoming blurry and- I am not going to survive. He thinks, before his eyes roll back into his head, and he passes out once more.

Arthur does not dare to say anything, or to do anything, other than stay frozen in his spot, sword in hand.

The noises are coming closer and closer. The screams have subsided now, but the steps have not. He knows he should highball out of there, but he has a feeling that whatever is coming their way cannot be outrun, and 50% of his lessons in swordplay focuses only on telling him to follow his gut.  

"Emrys," says a voice. He inhales sharply, he recognizes that voice; knows it better than he has any right too.

"Morgana," he breathes.

She pouts, looking disappointed. "Seems like our Emrys isn't awake. Shame, I wanted him to see you die." She says it casually, as if she tells her once-brother that she’s going to kill him every day.

He reminds himself - this is not his sister, not the woman he grew up with. If he doesn’t kill her, she will kill him. And she will take his kingdom.

But he never meant for them to get caught up in this, he had to control himself. He can’t rush to hug her or stab her. He can see a flicker of what she used to be, the brave, young woman. He needs her to hold onto that. If she doesn’t, he will have to do it. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

But as she lunges at him, the flicker ebbs out. She has slipped through his hands, and she has changed. She has been carried away by the waves of sorcery, and it has ruined her. He remembers her being his hero when they were young, when they used to sneak out of the castle to look at the stars. Her arguing with Uther over whether it was right to commit genocide, the irony of which has stuck with him. Her teaching him to use the sword, having already mastered it herself. Her forcing him to make friends with Gwen, who grew to become his ex-lover and best friend and surrogate queen. The memories keep on coming, and they don't stop. But she, like everyone else, changed. No matter what time, she is different now. It will never come back. He wants to go back, when they were innocent and naive, when everything was left for them to discover.

But he can’t.

So he fights back instead.

It's all he can do to make his hands steady as his blade sinks into her stomach, as he buries it deeper and deeper until it comes out on the other side. She looks surprised, then grim. She'll be alive for a few days, at most, a few minutes, at best.

But he can't bear to leave her suffering, alive but dying, tortured. So, he stabs her again, this time aiming for the heart, and again. And again. And again. When he is sure that she's dead, he stops, sliding onto his knees. He glares at the sword in contempt. He killed her; he killed his sister.

No .

He killed the woman who wanted to burn his kingdom to the ground. He had no other choice.

But what sort of person is he? He's killed both his knight and his former sister on the same day, with the same sword.

He grips it harder, then looks at the lake. He needs to get rid of it, that's what he needs to do. No one can find out what happened today, he can't let them. He raises it and throws it in. He had thought it would land on the banks, considering how heavy it is, but it doesn't. Instead, the sword flies out of his grip, and cuts through the air, towards the lake. He swears he can see a hand reaching out of the water to catch it, but it's probably a trick of the light.

He turns to her body laid on the ground, eyes open and unblinking, mouth looking as if gasping for breath, cloak sprawled around her like wings. She's dead.

Somehow, he knows if he had used the other sword, she would not be; he knows enough about magic to realise that the high priestess cannot be taken down by a normal weapon.

But Excalibur was not normal, was it? Just another thing to add to his list of questions.

It takes him thirty more minutes to dispose of her body in the lake, staring as it sinks deeper into the water. He doesn't look away, no. He deserves this. He has to remember, and he will.

He doesn't move for a long, long time. Only goes so when he realizes that, although she is dead, Merlin is not yet. Arthur intends to keep it that way. He turns his back on her. Every step drains him, but he does it.

He can't be left alone again.  

It takes them two more days to arrive in Camelot. All of it passes in awkward silence, with Merlin getting paler and paler with every passing second. Arthur doesn’t say anything out loud, but his mind is racing. He doesn’t think of them. He can’t. So he focuses on magic instead. He’s not sure if he trusts magic fully, even now, but maybe he should be more open-minded. Maybe he should give it a chance. Maybe it'll be different than it was with Morga- her.

When he arrives, it is completely different to what he had expected. There are mourners, of course. People in white, downcast expressions, closed windows, doors painted black. But there are also red banners hanging everywhere, citizens cheering as he rides past, ignoring Merlin behind him. Cries of "she is dead" and "the war is over". People are grieving, and there are those celebrating. He doesn't ask how they know of her death, he doesn't want to know. They tell him anyway. Apparently, the army stopped attacking, all of a sudden. They had cried, and shouted, and had turned back. It is unclear why, but Arthur knows he is the reason. Morgana dying at his hands is the reason.

Some help him get to Gaius', seeing how unamused he looks. They clear out the road, offer them water. Arthur is grateful for them, glad that at least some of his people acknowledged the dying man and had tried to help.

The physician is busy when he throws the door open, Merlin in tow. There are many, many people here. All with varying degrees of injuries. Arthur can’t bear to look at them. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. So he ignores them, marches up to him.

“He’s- he’s been stabbed,” he chokes out.

Gaius’ eyes widen, and he rushes to follow Arthur. He lays Merlin out on one of the few empty beds, his body sprawls out on it. It’s sickening to look at as if he’s dead already.

He sets to work immediately, ordering Arthur to fetch herbs and vials and all sorts of things he doesn’t know the uses of. The people around them stare at him blankly, as if they know he’s the king, but they don’t fully recognise him.

He knows when he is not needed anymore, and backs away to watch. It's odd, and it feels so wrong. It's wrong to watch as Merlin is cut open and healed. Like he's invading his privacy. Merlin deserves better than to be put on a show in front of so many people.

He does try to help. Tries to tell as many people as he can to move to the castle, where he is sure more doctors would be willing to help, but some are in too bad of a condition to be moved as they are tended to by nurses. So he elects to focus on his friend instead.

Gaius' hands have always been steady, for as long had Arthur had known him. He cuts open bodies without worry, without even flinching. Which is not the case today, he notices. No, his hands are shaking. Not much as to be obvious, but he's known the man for far too long to not be able to tell when he's scared.

He thinks Merlin is going to die .

Arthur recoils violently. He doesn't know where the thought came from, because it's not true. It can’t be.

Merlin is going to survive. He tells himself.

Merlin. Is. Going. To. Survive.

Merlinisgoingtosurvive

MerlinisgoingtosurviveMerlinisgoingtosurvuveMerlinisgoingtosurvive

He repeats under his breath, rocking himself back and forth on his heels until he almost believes it. He has to.

He's not sure where the time has passed, because Gaius is in front of him all of a sudden but Arthur remembers him standing over the table just seconds ago.

Gaius shakes his head and it takes a few minutes for it to register in his mind. Arthur can't be looking at him, and his heartbreaking face. Just like him, Gaius' only support was Merlin. Was. Not is, was. Merlin is barely dead, and Arthur is already starting to think of him as a memory.

The physician knows what it feels like, but Arthur doesn't care.

"You should've done better," he hisses. He doesn't regret it. Doesn’t regret causing the shock he’s caused Gaius. But it's his fault too. He's the one Merlin took a sword for. But he needs to blame someone else. Because he doesn't want to think of the implications of Merlin dying at his hands. Gaius looks at him as if he is about to break, so Arthur walks away. From him, towards the corpse. He can't bear to face another person he's hurt.

It can't be true. There's got to be something he can do, something. He can't die, he can’t fucking die. Not when there's not much left to say. Not when they've just won. It's supposed to be a thing to celebrate, a war ending, he can't mourn. He can't give a speech to his kingdom which wasn't written by his best friend. Can't lose him. He doesn't think he'll be able to live without him.

He doesn't want to. He won't.

Merlin looks too much at peace, content in a way Arthur hasn't seen him in a long time. His long lashes casting shadows onto his freckled skin, his lips are twisted into a scowl, but he is at peace. He still looks the same, though. Beautiful and striking. Arthur's rock.

And dead.

Arthur’s hands move at their own accord, to stroke the side of his face. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, pushing through his throat. His people need assurance, and him crying like a bloody fool won't help. But that's the last thing on his mind. All he knows is Merlin is dead.

He isn’t able to stop staring, can't help wondering what he will do now. Whether the body will be burned or buried. He will be given a hero's funeral, it's no less than he deserves. He will be clothed in Camelot’s colours, or maybe his Ealdor's. Hunith would know better.

Oh lord, Hunith. She will have to find out through a letter. No. Arthur will have to go to tell her. He can't let her go through it alone.

He's about to turn away, to tell someone to help him move the body when his lips move.

Merlin's mouth opens, just a little bit, but enough to tell that he's alive.

Arthur feels a shock go through him. It was just an illusion.

Right?

"Merlin?" he asks. It can't be true, no matter how much he wants it to be. It was probably a trick of the light, but that can't be right. Because Merlin's eyes are opening and he's staring at him and some colour is returning to his cheeks and oh-

This the man he loves. And he waking up.

"Ar- Arth," he begins but Arthur shushes him. He’s alive, he’s speaking. He doesn’t know how, but it’s real. It’s actually real.

"I'm here," he assures him "I'm here." He shocks even himself as he leans down to kiss him. He's even more surprised when Merlin kisses him back. It only lasts a second before he pulls back, but he just kissed Merlin. It was rough, it wasn't perfect. But he's breathing. They're both here. He can't ask for more.

"Wha- what was," he exhales through his nose, as if speaking taxes him, "that for?"

"I wanted to," he says, shrugging, still not over the euphoria. He just lost him, he’s never going to again. The least he can do is not hide from the truth. "And, I, I also kind of love you. Like, I’m in love with you."

His eyes widen a fraction, but Arthur can tell he’s too tired to question it further.

He wants to say more, he has so many questions as to how he's still breathing, when he started practicing magic, why, but he doesn’t. He has time, they have all the time in the world.

He turns his back, yelling for Gaius. The physician shows up immediately, face lighting up when he takes in the sight of his son very much not-dead.

"We'll figure it out," he says, though he's not sure he heard him over the noise. "We'll figure it out." He grins. Yeah, they'll figure it out.

He swears, Merlin is beaming right back at him.

[kairos-in-wonderland]

Day 3: Wait... What? “It’s Wednesday”

Unlike the first two days for @camelove2021 which were romantic, I chose to go with familial love for day 3, I hope you like it!

Relationships (all platonic): OC and Balinor, Balinor and Merlin, OC and Merlin

Trigger warnings: violence, death, grief

.

“Balinor!” Bellona called as she entered the cave, “I’m back from the markets, got you some fresh herbs. Where are you?” she looked around, but he was nowhere to be found. The fire that was usually burning in the centre of the cave was cold, not even the embers were glowing, and the sword that was usually propped against the wall had disappeared; she felt her chest tighten as she looked around at everything that was missing, “Balinor!” a sense of panic overwhelmed her, and she grabbed a dagger before rushing out of the cave.

As Bellona searched the forest surrounding their home and continually found nothing, she became more and more anxious, gripping her weapon tighter by the second. It was a couple hours before she found him, but it wasn’t what she expected. Balinor was laid against an old oak, eyes closed and arms laid across his chest with some flowers, “B-Balinor?” she mumbled, walking over to him and dropping to her knees. She tried to shake him awake but he wouldn’t stir so she muttered an incantation to wake him, “No… No!” tears spilled down her cheeks as she held him. Her mind was racing with a million thoughts of what could’ve happened – until she saw the stab wound, which could only mean one thing. Uther. Bellona let out a piercing scream, feeling her eyes burn with magic as trees and flowers flattened around her. He hadn’t deserved to die, he had done nothing wrong, but he had been killed.

She took him to the small clearing by their cave, where her parents had been buried almost twenty years before – sorcerers were not permitted marked graves but she created a small headstone when she buried him, but she did not have time to mourn. She gathered her belongings and set out for Camelot, running as fast as her legs could take her; grief, anger and adrenaline coursing through her. Bellona crossed the border into Camelot as the sun began to set and she could hear loud roars in the distance. She broke into a clearing as an enormous dragon rose into the sky and flew off; knights of Camelot were strewn across the ground with one figure stood in the middle of them. That’s when she saw him, the prince, and what better way to get revenge than to kill the son of her enemy? She drew her sword and ran towards him but the figure turned to her and her she saw something familiar in his eyes, “Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m Merlin,” he answered simply, “what were you going to do?”

“Take revenge on Uther, a son for a father,” she muttered, still not willing to lower her sword.

“I understand, but Arthur is a good man, he does not deserve to die for his father’s sins.”

“Well what if it was Arthur who killed him? I doubt Uther would’ve been hunting him, he probably went his son to do the job! If he’s such a good man then he’s probably the one who at least had the decency not to just leave him where he died!” she started to shake and her knees felt weak as she began to cry, “He may have been a dragonlord, but he did not deserve to die!”

“Y-Your father was a dragonlord?” Merlin asked, his voice wavering.

“Yes, he died long ago. And the man who raised me was one too – Balinor,” she said, and Merlin practically froze.

“Arthur did not kill Balinor,” he protested, and her eyes narrowed.

“How would you know?”

“Because I was there when he died,” he told her, tears welling in his eyes, “we had gone to seek his help. The three of us were on our way here when Cenred’s men attacked us, he died to save me.”

“Why you?” she questioned.

“I’m his son,” Merlin said, and she felt her throat close up, “I only found out days ago.”

“Y-You’re Hunith’s son?” he gave her a confused look, “He spoke of her often, the only woman he ever loved.”

“I understand you wanting revenge on Uther for this, he is the reason I grew up without a father, but killing him or Arthur would only make things worse for people like us,” Merlin implored, and Bellona nodded as she sunk to her knees, sobs shaking her body. Merlin knelt down in front of her, and she latched onto him as she cried, both of them taking a moment to share their grief, “Would you like to return to Camelot with us? I’m sure my friend Gwen would be able to give you a bed for a little while?”

“I-I don’t think I could, it would be difficult for me to conceal my magic. Besides, I-I don’t exactly work well in crowded spaces,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes.

“Well, how about you just stay for the night? And tomorrow I could take you to Ealdor,” he suggested, “what’s your name?”

“Bellona.”

“Well, Bellona, I’m sure that my mother would be more than happy to take you in. I think she needs the company to be honest,” they both let out a small laugh, “would you like to?”

“That sounds nice,” she grinned as Arthur began to stir. Merlin quickly stood and rushed over to him, Bellona following tentatively.

“What happened?” Arthur asked, his breathing shallow.

“You dealt him a mortal blow,” Merlin told him.

“He’s gone?”

“Yeah, you did it,” Merlin said, and Arthur began to laugh, loudly and full of relief, “you did it.” He helped Arthur up, and that’s when the latter noticed the new presence.

“Who are you?”

“This is Bellona, she’s a friend of mine from Ealdor,” Merlin lied, “she decided to come and visit, although it wasn’t exactly the right time.”

“I-It’s a pleasure to meet you, sire,” she mumbled, “I hope it would be okay for Merlin to come with me, back to Ealdor? His mother hasn’t seen him in ages.”

“Of course, yes. But for now, we need to get back to the castle. The Great Dragon is dead and my father needs to know,” Arthur led the way to the castle, and Bellona stayed behind him with Merlin.

“Why did you tell him that he’d killed Kilgharrah?” she whispered to Merlin.

“Because Kilgharrah is the last of his kind, if Uther knew that he survived then he’d send knights to try and kill him for good. Not only would it risk the death of the last dragon, but it would also endanger thousands of lives in the five kingdoms.”

“You should be proud of yourself, Merlin. You picked up the language of the dragons quicker than most could have.”

“Well, I have magic regardless of that, Kilgharrah told me when I first arrived in Camelot that it is my destiny to be one of the greatest sorcerers to ever live, to help Arthur unite the lands of Albion… I guess it just comes naturally,” he told her as they walked through the gates. A woman ran up to Arthur and embraced him as an older man walked over to Bellona and Merlin, hugging the latter. As they pulled back from the hug, the older man looked to Bellona in confusion.

“Merlin, who is this?”

“Uh, Bellona, this is Gaius, Gaius this is Bellona,” Merlin introduced.

“Oh, Gaius! Balinor spoke of you. He said you saved him from Uther during the Great Purge, thank you?”

“How do you know Balinor?”

“He raised her,” Merlin answered on her behalf, “she wasn’t there when me and Arthur got to the cave, but she had been living with him.”

“Does Arthur know of this?”

“He thinks that I’m a childhood friend of Merlin’s, from Ealdor,” Bellona answered.

“Good. Now, why don’t you come with Merlin and I to our chambers, we can arrange a bed for you while you’re here,” Gaius suggested.

“I’m going to go and talk to Gwen about that, I’ll see you there,” Merlin ran off after his friend, the woman who had hugged Arthur, and Bellona followed Gaius into the castle. Once they were in Gaius’ chambers, they both sat down to talk.

“How did you end up with Balinor?” Gaius asked her.

“He found me after Uther had my parents killed – he was a dragonlord and she was a druid,” she started, sighing, “he came to try and find my parents after he fled Ealdor. But the only living person was me, hiding under my bed. He took me in, raised me and taught me everything about the art of the dragonlords.”

“How old were you when they died?”

“Three. I was born at the beginning of the Great Purge and they managed to hide in Essetir, not far from Ealdor. Uther must’ve gotten word that there were two magical people hiding in Engerd when he was looking for Balinor because they were killed only a day or so before he found me.”

“But Merlin and Arthur didn’t see you when they went to find Balinor,” Gaius said, “how did you know he had died?”

“I’d gone to Engerd for some supplies and when I returned and he wasn’t there, there was no sign of life, I went looking for him. I searched the forest around the cave and found him dead, I thought Uther had finally found him,” Bellona said, tears welling in her eyes.

“So that’s why you came to Camelot, you wanted revenge,” Gaius mumbled, and she nodded.

“I was going to kill Arthur, a son for a father – it should’ve been easy, he was unconscious. But Merlin was there, I looked into his eyes and all I could see was Balinor. Revenge isn’t what he would have wanted. Arthur doesn’t even know I tried to kill him, but if he knew…” she let out a small sob and Gaius put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You’re thinking that you could see Balinor again if you told Arthur what you did,” Gaius said, sighing, “but he wouldn’t want that either. Balinor found you and raised you, he made sure you had a nice life, he wouldn’t want you giving it up just because of his death.”

Bellona knew he was right, of course he was, but it still hurt. Her grief overcame her, and she couldn’t stop crying, she could feel her magic surging again – and then there were hands resting on her shoulders. She looked up through her tears and saw her father’s eyes, causing her heart rate to slow as Merlin looked into her eyes.

“You’re okay,” he assured her, and she stood up to hug him tightly, “he may not be alive but he’s here with you, with us,” Bellona felt tears drip onto her shoulder so she hugged Merlin even tighter, “I spoke to my friend Gwen, she said that you can stay with her tonight if you want.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled, pulling away from the hug, “I, uh… I suppose you two will be wanting to sleep now?”

“Have you had anything to eat?” Gaius asked, and her stomach growled to answer for her, “Sit, I’ll go get you something to eat,” he got up from his seat and left the room.

“Can I ask you something?” Merlin asked after a few moments of silence, and Bellona nodded, “What was he like? I only got to spend a couple days with him and he only knew I was his son for one of them – you grew up with him.”

“He was kind. When he first found me I was terrified, my parents had just been murdered for their magic; he just sat a couple meters away from where I was hiding, he didn’t try and force me out, be just made sure I knew he was there for me when I did come out from under the bed. And when I did, he gave me some food and told me that he was my father’s friend, that I could go with him if I wanted to. He asked a couple of my parents’ friends to help take the bodies to a clearing where we buried them, not too far from the cave. He helped train me in magic, not just the art of dragonlords but also the magic I inherited from my mother, he made me feel like I belonged regardless of what the law was.”

“I wish I could’ve been there with you, maybe then I wouldn’t have had to come to Camelot, we would’ve just been… happy.”

“We would’ve been, but you would’ve come to Camelot regardless,” she said, and he gave her a confused look, “if I remember what I’ve been told by druids, you’re Emrys,” he looked away for a moment, confirming her suspicions, “you said to me that you’re destined to be a great sorcerer and help Arthur reunite Albion – you can’t exactly do that if you’re living in a cave with your parents and surrogate sister. It’s dangerous here, of course it is, but you belong here Merlin.”

Gaius came in moments later with some stew and bread which she practically inhaled – with all of the anger and adrenaline coursing through her she hadn’t noticed how hungry she was. The three of them spent a few minutes in comfortable silence before Bellona said she was getting tired and Merlin left the chambers with her to go to the lower town.

“You’re really gonna like Gwen,” Merlin assured her, “she’s been kinder to me than most in Camelot since I arrived.”

“Does she know about your magic?”

“No… Uther killed her father for consorting with a sorcerer even though he didn’t know the man was a sorcerer – and she’s been accused of using magic too many times. I trust her, but I…”

“You don’t want to risk losing her,” Bellona finished for him, and he nodded, “don’t worry, I’ll make sure I don’t say anything.”

“Thank you,” they came to Gwen’s house and Merlin knocked on the door – the woman in question answered almost immediately with a soft smile.

“Hello Merlin. And you must be Bellona, it’s nice to meet you,” she greeted, stepping to the side, “please, come in.”

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Merlin said, “goodnight Bellona, Gwen.”

“Goodnight Merlin,” they chorused as Gwen shut the door. The girls had a little chat after Merlin left, but finally went to bed; Bellona was hoping to get a good sleep, she was in the most comfortable bed she’d had in years, but that didn’t happen. It couldn’t. She was plagued with nightmares of fire and destruction, and screams of women and children as they ran from the great dragon, Kilgharrah.

Bellona woke up with tears in her eyes and a ghost of a scream on her lips – she sat up immediately and her head collided with Gwen’s, “Ah! Sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” Gwen assured her as she rubbed her forehead, “you were screaming in your sleep. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-I’d rather not,” she mumbled, moving to get to her feet, “did I wake you?”

“No, no, I was already awake. I haven’t been sleeping well since the Lady Morgana was taken.”

“You were close with the Lady Morgana?” Bellona asked, thinking back to the prophecies the druids had told her about Morgana.

“I’m her maid,” Gwen told her, just as there was a knock on the door and Merlin walked into the house.

“Does he just not knock?” Bellona laughed, and Gwen joined as she helped the girl to her feet.

“No, no he doesn’t,” they both walked into the main part of the room where Merlin was waiting.

“You ready to go to Ealdor?” he asked, and Bellona nodded, “Right, Arthur – for once – actually granted me some time off to take you there,” he looked towards Gwen, “I’ll be back in a few days Gwen,” Bellona gave Gwen a short hug and thanked her for granting her a bed for the night before following Merlin out to the main street. They walked up to the main square where guards were waiting with two horses, “can you ride?”

“Yes, Merlin, I can ride a horse,” she grinned, mounting the saddle as he did. They rode for a couple days to reach Ealdor, spending the daytime to engage in casual conversation which became deeper as they’d settle in for the night.

As the two of them rode into Camelot, there were lots of stares and greetings; Merlin tied up the horses to one of the gates before leading Bellona over to a house on the far side of the village, “Merlin!” The woman in the house greeted cheerily.

“Hello mother,” he replied, hugging her tightly, until she noticed the other person in the room, “uh, Bellona, this is my mother Hunith. Mother, this is Bellona, there’s something the three of us need to discuss.”

The next hour or so was full of confusion, tears and grief as each of them said what they had to – sharing their sides of the story. Hunith was glad that Balinor had lived long enough for Merlin to meet him, and Bellona told them about how he raised her in the cave, “Before you go, Merlin, there’s somewhere the three of us need to go,” Bellona grabbed both Hunith and Merlin's hands as she spoke, “we need to go and say goodbye to him.”

The three of them rode for the cave, but Bellona stopped them as they came into a clearing where three rocks stood in the middle, side by side. Her mother, her father, and Balinor. Together they finally had a chance to say goodbye, and Bellona was sure that Merlin could feel his spirit as she could – by their side forever…

.

Sorry if the ending feels rushed, my laptop battery is running low and I’m already over and hour into day 4 when I’m uploading this 😅 I wanted to get everything in, even if there is a lack of dialogue at the end. I hope you enjoy today’s submission, happy Camelove! 🥰💜💙

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

Merlin Season 2 episode 8:

What is the point of them wearing chainmail if it does fuck all and they always die anyway? It does nothing to protect them

Because I'm a cheeky little episode peeker, I know Morgouse doesn't die in this episode, and obviously neither does Arthur, so I'm confused..... okay. Intresting.

Morgana's dress is very pretty this episode

The lesbian vibes are real NOPE. NOPE. Okay, now I know why my friends reaction was "oooofff" when I texted her about that. Okay. Yeah no. Half sisters. Which doesn't quite make sense. I'm missing something, cause things aren't quite adding up.

I have a bad feeling about the bracelet. Wow, I'm like consistently wrong today, huh? Stopped the nightmares. Good, Morgana deserves a good nights rest

Merlin dropping Arthur into horse shit was fucking halarious

!!!!!!! "What if my fathers attitude towards magic is wrong?" "You really think that?" "Perhaps its not as simple as he'd have us believe. Morgause is a sorcerer. She has caused us no harm. Surely not everyone who practices magic can be evil" !!!!!!!!

The hope in Merlin's eyes!!

I am once again wondering how the hell Arthur is Uther's son

Oh shit. Is this real? Is this deception? This seems real. I mean, thats true. Thats... not entirely true, I may hate Uther, but he seemed to genuinely love his wife, I dont think he anticipated her life would be the one forfit.

You know, it really makes sense that Arthur was born of magic. Hes the other side of the coin to Merlin, who was born with magic. The legendary king and the most powerful sorcerer of all time. It makes sense.

Oh shit, Arthur is PISSED. Never seen him like this before. Holy fuck he actually went for it. Hes actually trying to kill Uther. Now, im conflicted but im also not. I want uther dead sooner rather than later, but I don't want Arthur to be the one to do it! It would destroy him. And as much as hate Uther, the one thing I can say about him is he genuinely loves his son. You can see the horror and fear in his eyes as he realizes just how close his swing got to hitting Arthur.

Points to Leon for being reasonable and listening to Merlin. Additional points for hearing sword fighting and not immediately going in to see what the fuck is going on because orders. Actually, I dont know if that should be points for or against. Funny points, definitely.

The acting in this show, jfc, are they TRYING to kill me?

Arthur has some good points, Uther.

You can see the fucking struggle in Merlins face. He is actively lying to Arthur, taking away his experience of meeting his mother by convincing him it was an enchantress' illusion to turn him against his father and its all a lie (when he knows its not). Merlin actively played on Uthers rhetoric, rhetoric and beliefs Merlin KNOWS Arthur doesn't entirely share, or doesn't want to share. Rhetoric that hates everything about who Merlin is. And still he lies, to prevent Arthur from murdering his father, the same man who has killed so many sorcerers and innocents and would see merlin dead in a heart beat if he knew of his magic. And the conflict and pain over this is on full fucking display, in his voice, in his eyes. But he can't let this happen, because he knows it would tear Arthur apart. Even if turning Arthur against sorcerers, against what he is, tears Merlin apart in the process. I mean, fucking hell, Merlin almost literally chokes over the lie

Notice that Uthers wording avoids the demand to swear he wasn't responsible for his wife's death: "I swear on my life, I loved your mother. There isnt a day passes that I dont wish that she was still alive. I could never have done anything to hurt her" Technically, all true. But just because he never knowingly willingly hurt her does not mean he's not responsible for her death, which he is. His wording avoids lying while also not answering the question while appearing to answer it.

I know the point of the pan over is to show Gaius and Merlin exchanging a look, but I can not get over how fucking puzzled Leon looks 😂

Welp. The talking down scene nearly got me, and the following scene between Merlin and Arthur definitely fucking did. Fuck. You can see Merlins heart breaking. All hope of acceptance from Arthur, from his friend he is destined to protect with his magic, gone. Because he lied and turned Arthur against it in order to keep him from killing Uther, a man who has killed so many people like merlin and would kill merlin instantly if he knew he was a sorcerer. He has a fucking tear in his eye, he looks ready to cry his eyes out, and im right there with him.

The barely disguised disgust from merlin over Uther calling him a "trusted ally in the fight against magic" and merlins nodding along to Uthers words about how people with magic would all want to use it to corrupt Arthur while Merlin has literally used it to save Arthur's life numerous times. Merlin needs all the hugs.

Yes Gaius, exactly. Hey, I was right!

End scenes with Merlin and Gaius laughing after a rough episode soothes my hurt heart.

[viltrumitesuperboy]

I Couldn’t Love You (Merlin x Male Reader)

Someone wanted hanahaki disease with Merlin so here you go merry crisis. Merlin has it. Tried something different with this one.

Word count: 2928

I couldn't love you because you were my friend.

Merlin had never been one to let his emotions get to him, or so he hoped. When Arthur told him he was sensitive, he denied it. He then noticed how different of a person he was compared to every other man in the castle and realised that, yes, he was an emotional man. Arthur never really minded (just teased him), and Gaius told him that it was a good thing for a sorcerer like him. It made him different from those who used their magic to hurt.

You were a servant for Knight Leon, so Merlin saw you sometimes. Arthur had to take a few knights with him on a trip, and told Merlin to stay for once. As they rode off, you moved closer to Merlin.

"What's Prince Arthur like? I'll tell you that Sir Leon is a bit daft and definitely stupid but that's because he can read and chooses not to."

"To put it bluntly, Arthur's a prat. I will serve him for as long as I live but he is seriously an idiot."

You laughed and turned to look at Merlin.

"May I join you while they're gone? I don't really have much to do when Leon isn't around."

He smiled and beckoned for you to follow him to the side door where Gaius was working on some medicine. He told you that you could choose any book to read, and a strange looking one caught your eye. You pulled it from the shelf and began reading it.

"Hey, this is about magic. Is this allowed?" you asked Gaius.

Merlin rushed to his side and looked as if he was about to spit out some excuse, but Gaius gave him a stern look.

"As you know, Uther's law against magic has led to dozens of problems from magic users. I keep books in case another magic-related incident happens," Gaius explained smoothly.

"Of course. It's unfair, isn't it? That he's so against magic. Most of the people I know don't even care about what magic users do because most of them aren't actively trying to hurt anyone else. Since the king is against it, sorcerers come out of hiding to try and hurt him. It's obvious, but he doesn't realise it," you nonchalantly replied, then looked down to read the book in silence.

Merlin looked at Gaius with shock on his face, but the reaction was not returned. On Gaius' lips was a small grin, and he turned away to continue his work. Merlin looked back at you, where you had been flipping randomly in the book in interest of all the knowledge you could get. He pulled out another book, covering his spellbook in his lap with it. Occasionally you would show Gaius a word and ask what it meant, since you never had many chances to read. He explained it so easily and your smile showed your gratitude every time.

When he looked up at you and smiled, you smiled back. His heart fluttered.

I couldn't love you because I loved someone else.

Freya was the first magic user Merlin had met his age who he could connect to, and he wanted to protect her as long as she was in Camelot. When he started to sneak food, you weren't dumb enough to know that he was hiding things in that scarf of his. You yanked him to the side of a corridor.

"What's with the food? If you wanted to steal something, you could always ask me, you know?"

You waved him to follow you to the kitchens, but he stopped before you entered.

"Wait! I'll get in trouble. They don't like when I cause problems for them in there," Merlin mumbled.

"Trust me," you said.

He followed you into the kitchen, and you grabbed two entire trays — one of bread and one with meat.

"Just bringing these to the knights!" you shouted.

In their commotion of cooking, the cooks shouted back their approval and you walked right out with the bread in a basket and the meat in a bowl.

"Here, take some of each. I'll bring these to the knights. Go do whatever it is you have to."

Merlin thanked you and hid the bread and meat in a separate basket, wrapped in a cloth you'd taken from the kitchen. He smiled and rushed away, with you carrying out your duties. On the way, he started to cough, and covered his mouth with his scarf. For a second, he thought something fell out of his mouth, and he panicked when he thought his magic was acting up. The breeze blew the object up and into the forest, and he rushed towards Freya's hiding place.

He trusted you enough, so when Freya died, he came to you and Gaius with bloodshot eyes. You helped him take her body to the lake deep in the forest. He threw a stick with fire into the boat, bursting it into flames. For a second, you wondered where the fire had come from and if it had even reached the boat (Merlin had the upper body strength of a small bird), but when you saw the tears on his face, you put your arm around him. You rubbed his back as he began coughing, and when he pulled away from you, a small blue flower lay in his hands.

"Did you forget to put that one in?" you asked. "You can place it on the water. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

He hiccuped and tossed it on the water, and you both watched it float away. The look of shock on his face remained even as you both walked away, and you wondered just how much Freya meant to him.

I couldn't love you because I had a destiny.

Morgana had managed to get Guinevere accused of sorcery. Of course Merlin had to fix the problem as he always did, and risked looking like a complete loon in the aftermath. Gaius gave him an idea, and he followed through. But when he said the spell to change himself back, it wasn't working. He was hobbling around the castle in an old man's body, wondering what the hell his life had come to.

Once he bumped into you, and you yelled, almost falling backwards. Your eyes narrowed at the sight of his bright blue ones.

"Do I know you?" you asked. "I mean, I don't think I've seen you before here, but something about your eyes..."

"Goodbye," said Merlin in his old man voice, and he rushed away.

When the guards started to draw closer, he stepped into a small hallway, repeating the spell once more to no avail. Then you stepped out of a door in the hallway, a basket of clothing in your arms and a small vial in hand.

"Come on, take it. I ran to Gaius and he told me that it was you. I'll take your clothing so it doesn't look suspicious," you quickly explained.

He downed the potion quickly, pulling off the robe as soon as he did. You handed him the scarf he always wore. You both stepped into the main hallway just as the guards and Arthur caught up to you.

"Have you seen the sorcerer?" Arthur panted.

"There's a sorcerer?" you asked, alarmed. "Well, that's illegal, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's why we're- Look, he's old, he can't have gone far and he definitely went through this path," Arthur exclaimed.

"We haven't seen anyone. Merlin's been helping me with the washing."

Arthur huffed and motioned for the guards to follow him as they continued on their search.

"You really saved me there," Merlin laughed breathlessly.

"Well, you are the sorcerer meant to protect the once and future king, aren't you?" you teased, pulling him through the door in the hallway. "You should tell me more. No one's doing the washing right now except for me."

Merlin smiled, following you with a strange pressure on his chest. He began to cough, as he had been in the last few weeks. A flower dropped into his scarf, which he dumbly decided to cough into. The blood could barely be hidden by the scarf, but up close he could see that the scarf was a little wet. He bunched it up quickly when you turned to look at him.

"That's your own. You wash that," you scolded. "And then go to Gaius to do something about that cough. You've had it for a few days now."

He gave you a faint smile and nodded as he placed it into a bucket, vanishing the flower with his magic. He then turned to you and told you all about his adventures as much as he could, your expressions of awe and excitement driving his storytelling. Being the showoff he was, he used his magic to dump all the clothing in your bucket into the large tub. The smile on your face was worth it.

True to his word, he went to see Gaius, who wasn't there at the moment. He skimmed through endless books for flowers, but nothing came up until he realised what he had been doing wrong. He began to look at the books on magic that Gaius kept hidden. When he came across the one you were reading the first time you read a book there, he finally found it. It was a disease that was so rare it was believed to be a myth. The person with the disease would cough up blood and flowers if they were in love with someone and the love was not returned. Unless they returned the feelings or it was removed by magic, the victim would surely die. The same would result if they waited too long.

Merlin knew that there was no way he could tell you, but he needed to be alive to serve Arthur. He had a destiny, and the threat of death would not stop him from fulfilling it.

I couldn't love you because it was wrong.

The number of sorcerers and criminals that the king executed was significantly higher than the people found in same sex relations. Actually, there were no executed homosexuals. Uther would claim that they were under the influence of dark magic and therefore had to be killed before it spread. Fortunately, Arthur did not adopt that mindset. Unfortunately, he still thought it to be wrong. Merlin tended to ramble to Arthur and Gaius about his problems, but he told nobody about you. Gaius only knew that he was in love and that it may kill him, but was prepared to perform the spell if he needed to, as Merlin instructed him to. His destiny came before love.

Merlin's condition worsened over time, and he started to slow in his tasks. Arthur masked his concern with complaints, telling him to see Gaius. Gwen would berate Arthur for picking on his own friend. She gave Merlin sympathetic smiles when she caught him coughing or holding a piece of cloth to his mouth. The flowers increased in number, going from one every week to multiple every day. He had to keep a bucket by his bed.

"Merlin, this isn't good for you," Gaius had told him one day.

He sat on the chair beside Merlin's bed.

"There is always a solution. You will not die if you are rejected, but if you wait, it will kill you either way. Take a chance."

"I couldn't. It's... It's wrong, Gaius," Merlin croaked out. "The one I love is a man."

"And who says it should be wrong? A few others with this disease have died because they were afraid it was wrong. One of the most tragic tales came from two women who loved each other dearly, and both died of the same disease. This is hurting me as much as it hurts you. I have a feeling I know this man you speak of, and I think he feels the same. There is no one more worthy of his love than you, and no one more worthy of your love than he."

With that, Gaius tapped his leg as if to drill the wisdom into Merlin, and stood slowly to leave. Seconds after he had gone back to brewing something, you had burst through the door, shouting a quick greeting to Gaius and dashing to the bookshelves.

"(Y/N)! Be careful!" Gaius exclaimed.

"Sorry, busy!" Merlin heard you say.

You pulled a book out of the shelf and dashed to Merlin's room. You sat in the chair Gaius was just in moments ago and flipped through the pages. It was the same book you had chosen the first time.

"I was thinking I remembered that flower I saw from you over the last few weeks. At first, I thought you were planning to give them to someone, but I remembered seeing one in your hand at the lake. It's a disease!" you said with enthusiasm.

"I know," Merlin said, "and I will die."

Gaius was back again, standing just outside the door frame. You looked at him sadly as you placed the book down, the pages falling open to the wretched flower.

"Can't you do anything? Any magic that wouldn't remove your feelings or memories?"

"No. This ends in one of three ways," Gaius said.

"I don't intend to tell anyone except for Gaius about my condition, and I can't- don't want to die," Merlin caught himself, then turned the other way to choke out a flower into the bucket next to him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, leaning over to place your hand on his.

"I'm sorry, too."

Merlin was quite literally on his deathbed. He once nearly died on the same bed he was in currently. He had collapsed onto the closest surface after doing some cleaning in Arthur's and Gwen's room, and it just so happened to be the one Gaius used to treat patients. He grabbed his bucket that he had conveniently brought down from his room to clean earlier that day  and coughed into it painfully.

Flower petals and blood. That was all he could think about these days.

Gaius walked in, placing his herbs down and going about his work until he noticed Merlin on the bed.

"Merlin!" Gaius exclaimed.

"Gaius, please get him," Merlin whispered.

Gaius gave him a disapproving look and walked over, pulling the sheets on top of Merlin. He took the book he needed and placed it on the table close to Merlin's head. Then he left without another word. In minutes, you, Arthur, and Gwen all ran inside, with Gaius' voice in the distance telling them not to disturb anything.

"Merlin!" you shouted, running over to him and kneeling by his bed. "You're dying, aren't you?"

"Am I spitting blood or what?" he snarkily replied, and promptly lurched over the bucket.

"Stop it! You know this hurts all of us!" Gwen cried.

Arthur put his arms around her in a hug as she leaned into him, tears beginning to collect in her eyes.

"Merlin, if we can find the person you love, you can tell them. If they reject you, then there's that thing Gaius can do, right? Some herbal paste thing?" Arthur asked desperately.

"Yes, that," Gaius mumbled.

He looked to you, and you nodded, a silent sign that you had lied to keep them safe.

"Thank you for... everything," Merlin said, his eyes trained on you. "You're all my best friends and I'm so lucky to have you all, but I think I have to get those... herbs that Arthur mentioned."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Gwen whispered. "You love... him."

Her head turned fully to you, as did Arthur's.

"If he's not complaining about me, he's talking about you," Arthur added.

He didn't dare look at you, afraid to see the hate or disgust on your face. He choked once again on a sudden attack of flowers from his mouth, and you instantly reached over to rub his back.

"You're so stupid. You're so, so stupid," you whispered. "I should have known, should have said something earlier."

"What are you talking about?" Merlin rasped.

"I'm saying I love you too, you daft clotpole."

"That's my insult."

You took the cloth Gaius offered you and wiped his face, pressing your lips to his forehead.

"You're really so stupid."

Merlin smiled back, and he felt the weight that he hadn't even noticed on his insides removing themselves, like the curse was being physically lifted from his body. And as he thought that, a light left his body and the bucket, anywhere with flowers or blood, and disappeared into the air.

"I think that worked," he said, voice much stronger.

Everyone else gave a cheer of joy, and Gwen kissed Arthur right on the lips. Obviously he whined right after that they should only be doing that in private.

"Merlin will need his rest. (Y/N) can stay but the two of you will have to leave. I'm sure you both have matters to discuss. The love of two men, correct?"

"You're right, Gaius," Arthur smiled.

"Maybe you could look into that magic issue too, while you're at it. It could have saved Merlin," you suggested.

"As if!" Arthur scoffed.

Gwen hit his chest and they both left after hugging Merlin. Merlin turned back to you, and he barely noticed Gaius leaving to his room.

"That's some curse," he laughed, bringing you close. "But never steal my insults again."

I couldn't love you... or maybe I could.

[tolkienlockian]

Arthur for the ask thing

So sorry I'm answering this just now. I have so many unanswered Asks in my Inbox, but it's just that I'm planning on answering them and then something always come up in between

Give me a character and I will answer Ask here

So, without further ado

✨ Arthur ✨

Why I like him

Where do I start. He's the Once and Future King and he has some amazing moments that prove his potential as a great ruler, he genuinely cares for the people of Camelot to the point that he was ready to sacrifice himself for them. He is capable of having fun and enjoy the small, casual moments with his knights and Merlin, behaving as one of them and not above them as their Prince or later King.

Why I don't like him

He has the potential of some amazing character development and to free himself from Uther's manipulations both in regards to his abilities and to his view of magic. But just when we see said character development, the writers take it away in the next episode, to the point where he still needs Daddy's approval even three years later (and as much as I enjoyed The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, this part really disappointed me)

Favorite episode

I'm between The Poisoned Chalice and The Sword in the Stone - Part 2, so I'm choosing to talk about The Poisoned Chalice because, in my opinion, it's the first episode where Arthur truly shows that he's willing to do anything to help Merlin. He risked his life for a lowly servant whom he didn't know that well yet, and he did so against Uther's demands on top of that.

Favorite season

Again, I'm between season 1 and season 4, so now I'm gonna talk about season 4, because it's the season we see him become King and go through all the confusion, self-doubt and later confidence. We see him overcome Agravaine's manipulation and Morgana's schemes and come out stronger in the finale.

Favorite line

"I don't want you to change. I want you to always be you." This is it. The moment Arthur overcomes everything he was raised to believe about magic, the moment he sees and accepts Merlin for who he really is.

Favorite outfit

Wooow, that's a good one. He looks amazing in armor, not gonna lie, but my favorite outfit will be his red shit with the brown vest over it. It makes him look so relaxed and casual while still maintaining his regal looks.

OTP

*tries very hard not to start rambling about Merthur until tomorrow * Because these two were BORN for each other, they went through thick and thin while always being each other's constant and believing in each other, and it's a love story that lasts until the modern days where Merlin waits for his King's return.

Brotp

Arthur and Leon. Apparently, Leon has known Arthur from their childhood, making him Arthur's oldest friend beside Morgana. Leon is a very healthy presence in Arthur's life, he knows Arthur very well, and he's loyal to a fault.

Headcanon

Hmmm... One came to me just now. Arthur loves spending time alone in the royal gardens. He discovered little hiding spots there when he was little and he's escaping there whenever he feels the burden of being the Prince/King. He may not run away to become a farmer, but the gardens give him the brief escapade he needs.

Unpopular opinion

Hmmm, not sure about this one, I'm not even sure if it's an unpopular opinion, but I think that Arthur, deep down, actually suspected that Merlin has magic from a very early point, but buried it. At first it was denial ("Merlin can't have magic, nope, no way, this bubbly idiot can't have magic"), and then he pretended not to know in order to protect him. I know he said "I would know" during the magic reveal. Maybe he buried this knowledge so deep inside that he suppressed it. Maybe he wanted to give Merlin one more chance to take it back because magic was still outlawed in Camelot.

A wish

That we could see Arthur repel the ban of magic and actively unite the lands of Albion as the Once and Future King. Alternatively, my wish is that he comes out of that lake and gives Merlin all the hugs and cuddles.

An oh-god-please-don't-ever-happen

Not gonna lie, that's my reaction every time I watch the finale and the moment comes for Mordred to stab Arthur 😝😝😝 In all seriousness, though, I wish that Arthur wouldn't have said to Merlin "I thought you were the bravest man alive... Guess I was wrong."

5 words to best describe them

Dollophead, Once and Future King

My nickname for them

I sometimes call him His Royal Pratness 😂 Otherwise, I use one of Merlin's endearments, like "clotpole" or "dollophead"

Thanks for the Ask, and sorry for the long text, hope you'll like it 😊😊😊

[bellamyblakru]

“I have you, it’s okay.” + Merthur 💛 also omg I'm so glad you want to get into writing I can't wait to read it!

thank you so much🥺, you guys have been too kind😭😭 im so excited!! i really love writing, but i learned from that first one that it’s exhausting 😂 gah i love merthur, lets do this (also, the knights are all alive bc i love them//shade lancelot did happen but merlin brought him back for good good) ALSO, this drabble really ran for more than i was actually going for lmfao im sorry its so long

Merlin didn’t know how he wanted Arthur to find out about his magic. Most of Merlin’s recurring nightmares consist of the possibility that Arthur will react the wrong way. After all these years, Merlin dying on the pyre wouldn’t be the worst situation. What Merlin truly dreaded the most was the inevitable betrayal that he would see in Arthur’s eyes, the look he gets when someone he loves hurts him in the most personal way. The look where Arthur thinks he is the problem, not those betraying him. Agravaine, Morgana, Gwen, and even shade-Lancelot made Arthur vulnerable enough for him to love them just to be stabbed in the back one way or another because of it. Arthur blames himself when his people turn their backs on him, and Merlin refuses to get that look from Arthur.

 Killing Merlin, as horrible as it sounds, would probably be kinder. Merlin cares more for Arthur than words could describe. It wasn’t because of prophecy, or because Arthur was a good person and an even better King, it was because Merlin loves Arthur. It is as simple as that. Merlin loves the way Arthur smirks when bantering, the way he smiles when he is helping someone in need, the way he fights for his people, the way he never gives up hope no matter what happens or who they face, the way his eyes light up when sparring with his knights. Imagining Arthur shutting him out, away from his light, was a staggering enough thought that kept Merlin quiet.

At first, it was because of Uther. Merlin wouldn’t make Arthur pick between them, even if Merlin always thought that Arthur would always pick Uther. Then it was Morgana, then it was every little excuse that allowed Merlin to push back the truth further behind his happy facade. Arthur expressed his hatred of magic enough to let Merlin understand that he wouldn’t be accepted...even if Merlin was magic itself. 

There has never been a person more devoted to another human than Merlin to Arthur. Without one, there was no other. The castle knew this, as did the knights. Gwaine and Lancelot would tease him relentlessly about his love for Arthur, but even they did not know the half of his dedication to the Once and Future King. 

Merlin is the most powerful warlock to ever walk to earth, and he was terrified to tell his best friend his two deepest secrets. The warlock part, of course, and the part where Merlin’s entire existence was to serve, protect, and love Arthur to his dying breath. Merlin believes that Arthur might have an inkling that Merlin is truly in love with him, but Arthur never let too much show between them if he does know. Servant and King. The one born because of magic and the one born made of magic. Two sides, one coin (if the large reptile had a say in this). They were like the sun and the moon, destined to rotate but not touch. Arthur was Merlin’s sun, his light, his hopes, his destiny. 

Today was hunting day for Arthur, which meant Merlin pretended to grumble the whole morning about spending time with the knights and the king simply so he could see Arthur’s eyes light up with that playful glow. The Knights of the Roundtable were with them today, to Merlin’s delight. Gwaine and Lancelot were finally getting closer to each other through Merlin, and he couldn’t be more enthusiastic about it. They were the closest to brothers he ever had, and he was so grateful to have them in his life. Lancelot was welcomed back after the whole scandal since Morgana was outed, but Gwen decided to permanently end things with Arthur. Merlin was upset they weren’t together anymore, but Arthur did not seem too distraught about the news. Arthur probably sees the way Lancelot looks at Gwen and figured he couldn’t compete with that love, which made Merlin’s heart clench painfully.

Merlin was riding beside Arthur when the unimaginable happened. The forest was quiet in the way that made Merlin’s magic crawl, but no one seemed concerned with his fears. Merlin knew better. Right before the army ambushed, Merlin simply looked at Arthur. Arthur looked like he was bathing in sunlight, with a golden halo and his sparking sword hanging by his side, laughing at something Gwaine was talking about. Merlin’s life was Arthur’s well-being, and if it meant Arthur hated him for the rest of his life, then so be it.

The minute they entered the clearing, the laughter died. The knights reacted immediately with their King leading the way, swinging off their horses and preparing for battle. The army wasn’t too big, but it was Morgana’s—meaning magic users of different degrees everywhere. Her army did not look impressive, but the true power was in the hidden fact that each one of her soldiers wielded some magic. Merlin could feel it in the air. He could almost taste the potential power these people had, and he knew today was the day he has been dreading since he realized his love for Arthur.

Today was the day of Merlin’s betrayal—but it was the only choice. Arthur’s safety goes beyond what Merlin wanted..it always would, no matter how this ended.

Merlin didn’t waste any more time. He spelled the knights and his king to the ground with one look, saw the shocked expressions on different faces (he didn’t dare look at Arthur yet), but he did not let himself ponder them for too long. He thought up a shield then, putting those he loved in a bright, golden bubble of protection. Knowing they were safe allowed Merlin to relax for a second before turning his attention to the problem coming at him. He counted thirty sorcerers, with Morgana leading the charge. He took a second to truly look at Morgana. Her hair was matted, her clothing ripped, her eyes were darkened by the nightmares she is no doubt plagued with. He felt such pity and sorrow at that moment, a feeling so intense that time itself stopped around him. 

He walked up to Morgana, whose eyes were frozen gold with fury. He saw Aithusa in the back, and allowed time to continue for her alone. He spoke quietly to her, telling her how he is sorry for letting her stray so far and how he wasn’t there for her when she needed him the most. Aithusa, although weary, came closer to Merlin and let him pet her nose. Through the connection, she could see why Merlin wasn’t there for her, or more precisely, who Merlin had to protect above everyone and everything else. Aithusa, by command of Merlin, left then to Kilgharrah who would see to her recovery. Feeling better that his kin would be seen to after this, he focused his attention back to Morgana.

He then unfroze her. She, unexpectedly freed, fell to the ground. She was petrified, Merlin could tell. Her destiny, her doom. He was who she feared at night, who kept her awake after the nightmares, the one who poisoned her for the love of Camelot. Morgana was many things, but a coward is not one of them. She stood her ground, as regally as one can manage after falling, and looked Merlin in the eyes. What she wasn’t expecting was the pain she saw, for her. She started, not understanding his emotion. Quickly, too quickly for anyone to comprehend, Merlin grabbed both sides of her face and chanted with such sadness and despair. He pleaded to the earth’s magic to take her powers, and to use them for good, to help those in need. The earth responded kindly to his request, and it did what was asked of it. Morgana quickly fell asleep in Merlin’s arms, while Merlin was slowly crying over his lost, hurting friend. 

Time unfroze. The army halted, seeing Morgana’s magic flowing into the earth, and decided that a retreat would be more beneficial than attacking Emrys. Merlin could feel the magic leave Morgana, leaving behind a broken girl who’s heart has been hurt too many times to be fair. She deserves another chance, Merlin pleaded once more, and with that thought, the earth healed her enough to be able to live without her powers. She will live, the ground whispered to Merlin, and he tried to choke back a sob. Arthur could have another chance with his sister, and Gwen could finally have her best friend back—if Morgana wished, of course. Gwaine came behind Merlin and slowly peeled her away from him. Merlin staggered up, never using that much raw power before in his life, and started swaying. 

“I have you, it’s okay,” Merlin thought he heard Arthur quaver to him. Strong arms picked him up, and although Merlin was slowly fading, he swore he saw an angel lift him up, crying about how much Merlin meant to him. He passed out before he could make sense of it.

What isn’t said here is the simple fact that Arthur loves Merlin. Arthur loves the way Merlin smiles when he knows he is being sassy, the way his nose crinkles when he disagrees with something Arthur has said, the way Merlin’s eyes look when he says something abnormally wise to Arthur. Arthur is who he is because Merlin believes in him and magic isn’t going to throw it away. Arthur may not understand what just happened, but it wasn’t destructive, or cruel, or evil. It was pure, beautiful magic that only aimed to save the people around it—and wasn’t that who Merlin was at the end of the day? The magic felt like home, like love, so like Merlin that Arthur’s breath caught in his throat. 

He didn’t feel betrayed, surprisingly. He was hurt that Merlin couldn’t trust something so vital, so beautiful about himself because Arthur’s father was a tyrant and drilled something so wrong into Arthur’s mind. But never again will Arthur be swayed by his father’s ghost. Merlin saved him, probably more times than he could count as he continues looking back on their adventures. 

Arthur loves Merlin as much as Merlin loves Arthur, so he knows that no matter what happens after today, that fact will never change. 

[wolfandwild]

My Shadowlands Wish List

Now that we’re getting closer and closer to pre-patch and the inevitable launch of the expansion, I thought I’d rattle off a wish list of things I hope we get to see in Shadowlands, largely from a lore/story perspective. (Or rather, my stupid foot was hurting so badly I couldn’t concentrate on writing my fic properly, so I decided to ramble off some not-so-hot takes, honestly they’re pretty mild in the grand scheme of things). I was in the first alpha wave, so I’ve had a pretty good opportunity to play the game as it is thus far, and I did want to make it clear up front that I’m fully aboard the hype train. Shadowlands is looking like a great expansion for a number of different reasons, and while I do have a few areas of concern, on the whole I am currently feeling very positive. Please also note these are just my random, late-night personal musings - your mileage may vary, and that’s a-okay.  Mild Shadowlands spoilers below the cut.

You Get A Customisation! You Get A Customisation! Everybody Gets A Customisation! This one is pretty much a no-brainer. I don’t necessarily think Blizzard need to have absolutely every possible character customisation ready to go before launch, but I’d like them to continue adding further options over time. I move in a couple of different circles in Warcraft - I’m obviously involved in the writing/lore/character aspect of the game, but I’m also GM of a raiding guild and closely follow the gameplay/competitive side of things too - and customisation is one of those few things that gets everyone excited, regardless of their reason for playing the game. I’m looking forward to seeing a much more vibrant, unique and diverse Azeroth come Shadowlands pre-patch. (Mostly irrelevant side story - when Wrathion returned in the Patch 8.3 cinematics, my Twitter and lore Discords were basically going berserk with excitement, meanwhile there’s a hundred very confused dudes in my raiding guild who don’t read quest text being all, “What the hell is a ‘Wrathion’?”. I live in two different worlds, honestly). Another reason I’m excited about customisation (and I’m probably in a very small minority on this one) is because I actually really dislike allied races, and I think it gives Blizzard an option to add more flavour to character creation in the game without always having to cobble together a new race. I honestly think they should have simply gone for sub-race customisation from the beginning, to avoid having to ass-pull allied races out of nowhere. Using customisation over allied races also makes it far simpler to give something to both factions (e.g. high elves), or to add something for one faction without necessarily having to always add something to the other faction to keep things in balance. Giving an extra hairstyle to humans but not orcs generally isn’t going to cause that much of a fuss, but if one faction were given an allied race and the other wasn’t because there wasn’t a logical racial option, there would be a shitstorm of epic proportions. So you end up in a situation where one faction* gets saddled with a really random, sucky allied race just to be ‘fair’. *The Alliance. It’s the Alliance. Leave Britney Arthas Alone Arthas has never been a personal favourite of mine, but I respect that he has a fantastic story, and that he’s a cornerstone of Warcraft lore. His story is both satisfying and complete, and that’s exactly why they should leave him the hell alone. I don’t mind if he’s visited in flashbacks (like the Bastion cinematic), or if we explore how he affected still living characters (e.g. Jaina, Sylvanas, Bolvar), but I think it would be a mistake to try to make him a central character in the expansion. In contrast, someone like Kael’thas is an excellent choice for an additional arc, because his original story was a bit all over the place and there is still plenty of room for his character development. Arthas doesn’t need it, and I don’t think the minute potential gain is worth the risk of retroactively making the rest of his story worse. On a similar note... Warcraft III Was Released Nearly 20 Years Ago, It’s Time to Move On The Warcraft RTS was a landmark series of games, and was obviously without them we wouldn’t have the World of Warcraft. However, I think the future health of Warcraft’s lore depends on the ability of the writers to grow the story outwards and upwards, not to always default back to the same handful of characters for nostalgia’s sake. While characters like Jaina, and Thrall, and Sylvanas are great, they can’t carry the narrative forever. Shadowlands represents a unique opportunity to build up the next generation of characters and to blow the cosmology of the universe wide open. From what I’ve seen on the alpha/beta, Blizzard are definitely taking a step in this direction, and I’m hoping that’s what we get instead of Patch 9.2 - Oh Look, It’s Thrall Again. On an additionally similar note... Sylvanas Is Crazy, And She Needs To Go Down (I don’t actually think she’s crazy, but one should never miss the opportunity for an Avatar reference). One of my complaints about the recent lore developments in Warcraft its that it’s starting to feel a lot less like the World of Warcraft, and more like the Sylvanas of Warcraft. She’s playing 469D chess; she’s behind everything; she’s the sole driving force of the narrative. I don’t think that works in an MMO that’s meant to tell the story of an entire expanded universe. It makes things feel small. And before I get eaten alive, I want to be clear that I don’t dislike Sylvanas as a character - in fact, I think she’s very compelling and on a night when my foot wasn’t killing me so much I’d be happy to get into an argument as to why she’s actually one of the most consistent and well-written characters in the World of Warcraft. I don’t necessarily think she needs to die, either, but I think it’s time for her narrative to come to a close to make room for other characters in the story, and I don’t think Blizzard are going to get a much better opportunity to give her a satisfying ending than in a death-themed expansion. Justice for Tyrande (Or Vengeance, Whatever Uther Wants to Call It) Tyrande got done dirty in Battle for Azeroth, probably more than any other character. I’m not a massive night elf fangirl by any means, but their entire race was basically used as grist for the mill in Sad Orc Dad’s story, with no next to no narrative follow-up besides a cool cinematic that went absolutely nowhere in game. Outside the game, her character then got subjected to the cacophonous misogynistic crowing of the fanbase that occurs whenever a female character dares to be angry in the World of Warcraft. Much like Jaina, she’s decried for being ‘crazy’ or ‘irrational’ for, you know, being pissed that her people and her homeland were wiped out in an act of wildly disproportional aggression. I don’t know about you guys, but that would tend to make me a wee bit testy, but maybe I’m crazy and irrational too. In any case, I want to see her go off in Shadowlands. Fuck ‘em up, girlfriend. You Get One Villain. If You Drop It, I’m Not Buying You Another One I think most people will agree with me that the two weakest expansions (at least from a narrative perspective) were Warlords of Draenor and Battle for Azeroth. There are a few reasons for this, but for me one of the biggest issues was that they were chop-and-change expansions. Both were advertised and started off with narratives and themes that were wildly different from where they finished up. Warlords was part Iron Horde expansion, part Legion expansion; BFA was part faction war expansion, part Old God expansion... and that’s exactly the problem. Both times, I felt like we got two half-done expansions, instead of one single, cohesive narrative experience.  If you look at expansions like Wrath of the Lich King and Legion, both of which were very well received, a lot of their success hinges on their presentation of a consistent narrative with a clear goal for players within the story. The Lich King, for example, was a consistent and very present villain. He menaced you throughout your entire journey, and so his eventual defeat on top of Icecrown Citadel was meaningful and impactful. Defeating N’Zoth, by contrast, felt pretty hollow, as we hadn’t had enough narrative build up to really care about taking him down. Part of the reason I’m excited for Shadowlands is it looks like we’re getting a nice, focused story development that builds up to a logical and satisfying villain in the Jailer. Why Can’t We Be Friends? Look, I bleed blue. I love the Alliance... but the faction war should not continue to be a driving narrative element in the World of Warcraft. I don’t want the factions to be removed, I think they’re a core part of the Warcraft experience and I’d be pretty sad to have to let them go entirely, but the cycle of hating one another then teaming up in an uneasy alliance in order to defeat a bigger bad, only to go back to being at one another’s throats the next day is... tiresome.

Ideally, the war would have ended after Legion - it was the most logical place to do so, and I think it was a big missed opportunity that they ran with Battle for Azeroth immediately afterwards. Unfortunately, I think this means the Alliance is going to just have to forgive and forget, which doesn’t really make a lot sense at this point given everything that happened in BFA, but for the sake of the overall story, it might be a necessary sacrifice. That said... I Am Once Again Asking for Alliance Narrative Agency I know there are a lot of (valid) complaints to be had about the Horde storyline, but the one thing the Horde has always had over the Alliance is that they actually get to drive the narrative forward. The Alliance are pretty much exclusively reactionary, and in a lot of ways are side characters to the main Horde storyline. I’ve made this argument elsewhere, but it honestly wouldn’t be too hard to remove Anduin’s part in Saurfang’s storyline in Battle for Azeroth and have it turn out more or less exactly the same way... which says a lot about the importance of the Alliance in the overall storyline. In short, the Alliance are secondary players at best, and downright irrelevant at worst. One of my biggest hopes for Shadowlands is that we’ll actually get to see some Alliance narrative agency. To be clear, however, this does not mean a simple rehashing of Horde conflicts with a blue coat of paint. Alliance stories are not Horde stories, and nor should they be. Having an Alliance leader turn into a genocidal despot is not the only way to create conflict or agency in the story - there are plenty of opportunities for character growth, development and conflict on the Alliance side without having to have one of our leaders do a heel turn (e.g. Tyrande as the Night Warrior, Anduin dealing with his experience in the Maw, Jaina confronting the fates of people like Kael’thas and Arthas, Taelia meeting her father, etc.), and I really hope we get to see some of those narrative threads come to fruition. I Want to Mount Everything Add a hundred new mounts. Two hundred. A pot plant with googly eyes, the four hundredth Alliance horse, your mum. I’ll ride anything; I don’t even care. (Please note this is the most important opinion I have).

[sennextheassasinkingoflight]

Redemption, My Love

Chapter 6 Travel: Day 1 Cross posted on Ao3 Rated Explicit

Summary:  The silence between them is louder than anything Percival has ever heard. It makes him uncomfortable and that discomfort causes him to ask every question he has for The Weeping Monk. Lancelot is uncomfortable answering Percival's questions but does so anyways. Gawain, well he's exhausted and stressed and full of anxiety.

+++Percival+++

By noon Percival complains that he needs to stretch. It isn’t so much that he needs to stretch as it is that the silence between the three of them is thicker than the air in the house when his parents fought. He wanders a way into the woods under the guise of stretching and listens to see if the other two will speak. They don't and it frustrates him to no end. The silence between them all is deafening. The sun is high in the sky and the air is stagnant. He makes his way back to the clearing they’ve stopped in and stands by Gawain who hands him a water skin and piece of bread and dried meat. He eats it slowly and eyes them both in the process. It’s uncanny. The two move in tandem without speaking. Gawain throws a water skin to Lancelot who catches it with a nod, drinks and throws it back. They should need to speak, being strangers and all. But it's like they can read each other's minds instead. Perhaps it's because they are both warriors? Either way it’s eerie and puts Squirrel on edge. Finally Gawain speaks, it's a short sentence directed to no one in particular. “We need to get back on the road.”

With little hesitation Lancelot mounts Goliath. The process is slower than it ought to be and Percival wonders how bad his ribs hurt, as he stands. He brushes his hands on his pants and approaches Gawain who is checking the tack on his own mare one more time.

“Can I ride with you awhile Green Knight?” “Yes.”

So he climbs up in front of Gawain and they set out. Lancelot rides slightly ahead to the right, he seems to curl in on himself a little. Though admittedly he doesn’t know what he looked like riding the last couple of times. Nothing good he imagines, being so close to death as he was. As they continue along the path he wonders if Gawain is purposefully falling behind to watch the monk. He doesn’t quite know what benefit it would give him, but he trusts the knight's judgment implicitly.

As the silence stretches his discomfort only grows. He can only sit still and watch their surroundings so long. He feels alone, even seated in front of the Green knight. And he does not want to be alone. He sucks in a deep breath and then he does what he does very well and blathers into the air. It's nothing important until it is. He doesn’t mean for the questions to start coming out of his mouth. He doesn’t mean for his anger and his uncertainty to come out, but it does. He can feel the weight on his shoulders start to sink into his stomach and he has to move. He starts by turning in his saddle enough to see Gawain out of the corner of his eyes and look at Lancelot completely.

"Where are we going? Do we know if it's the right place? How can you possibly know where we need to go?" He watches Gawain turn his head to look at Lancelot and then down at him.

"According to him,” a nod in Lancelot's general direction, “Nimue made a deal with Uther that involved our people sailing to some other land."

"Nimue would never! This is our home!"

"She did Percival. To save you." Lancelot rasps, lifting a hand to his side. His ribs were probably aching. Unlike Percivals own bruises, Lancelots had only just begun to really heal. “But I don’t understand. Where would we go?” “I don’t know where Uthers ships were to take the Fey. Only that they were supposed to take them from Beggars Coast.” Lancelot informs him, hand visibly pressing harder on his ribs. “Why are we heading south then? Isn't that west of us?” “Yes,” Gawain supplies behind him, chest rising and falling against his back. “We need to avoid the Paladin camps and that means being low enough not to pass through them.” “Alright then.” He settles some, leaning back against the man. They lapse into silence again. It eats at his insides, makes him squirm uncomfortably. The longer he sits in the tension stretching between them the more the pressure grows inside him. The anger that has simmered since their escape is now boiling at his surface. He can practically hear Gawain thinking behind him and he has no idea what is happening in the mind of the Monk. He fidgets and Gawain taps his arm startling him. “What is it Percival?” He prompts a voice gentle enough that it causes Percival to still. Unfortunately the question was all the spark to tinder and Percival erupted into an inferno of rage. “Why did you help them hunt down your own kind?” The venom in his words burns his throat on the way up, leaving a bitter spice on his tongue. When Lancelot does not immediately answer the rest of his questions join the first in the open air between them. It only serves to add fuel to the wildfire of his heart. Gawain does not stop him and he doesn’t know if he should be glad or angrier for it. “Why Did you use me as bait to track the other Fey down? Why couldn’t you just let us go? We never did anything to you, or to the bloody paladins. You're the reason my family is dead, and the reason The Green Knight died. Why did you Rescue me? Were you going to use me as bait again? I don’t understand you. I should hate you.” His voice breaks here fire turning to steam, and steam into tears as he tries not to cry in front of The Green Knight. “But I don’t and I don’t understand why I don’t. Tell me you’ve done good things? Tell me you aren't all evil to the core?” He swallows and breathes heavily. Gawain's arm tightens around him and he leans back into the embrace. His eyes never leave The Weeping Monks back and he hopes the man can feel them burning into his soul. Taking him apart seam by seam. The slump in the man's shoulders and the way he bows his head against the barrage of questions remind him of shame, and maybe the monk does feel that, maybe. But Percival is too irritated and wrathful to believe that; too angry to remember that he doesn’t know Lancelot's story or his motives. He wants answers and the monk's silence is not an answer. Perhaps it's an admission but he wants to hear Lancelot say that he did those things. Give some answer for them. “Give me an answer, damn it!” He commanded the monk, determination coloring his voice turning it hoarse and high. His nostrils flared and he heaved in deep breaths to try and calm himself down. “Let him formulate his words Percival.” Warned Gawain. Which only serves to enrage him further. How dare The Green Knight of all people protect The Weeping Monk. How dare he betray his people like that? How could he support the man who had killed so many of his own? It made Percival sick and further served to remind him of his own internal conflict. “What does that mean?” He sneers, voice harsh as he turns to side eye the man behind him. “I imagine that he is trying to figure out how to say it in a way that makes sense to an eleven year old.” Observed the knight, arm still tight around his shoulders. He wiggles until it comes free. He does not want to be touched by the man who he looks up to. Not right now, not while he tries to justify the Monk. “He can talk to me like I’m an adult. Gods know I've seen enough.” He disagrees bitterly. It's then that he notes that Lancelot has slowed enough to plod along beside them. He looks over at the hooded man and furrows his brows. He’s tired of waiting. “Look at me,” the demand startles them all, but he does not back down.

++++++LANCELOT+++++

How exactly is he supposed to answer the boy? He swallows down the bile in his throat and tries to think of any answer that might satisfy him. There isn’t one. Lancelot had killed hundreds of Fey, had been the one to lead armies to burn their villages and forests and collapse their caves. He had stood by and watched as men and women were strung up on crosses and burned alive. The echoes of their screams chasing him even in restless sleep. He stood by and watched as children were pulled from their mothers arms, the way he had been, and killed on the ends of swords, axes, and arrows. His life is painted in rivers of red, blood and flame and rage. There is no answer to give the boy but the truth. And the truth is wretched and disfigured. The truth is bitter and poison and damming and yet it is all he can offer. Percival was right, the Fey had done no wrong to Lancelot or to the church, save the inherent belief that by their mere existence they were demons born of the devil. People fear that which they do not know. That is why he himself had been feared. He was a killer, an assassin and the brothers didn't know him. They had simply feared him and shied away from him, save for when he gave the orders to burn. In that one moment they were united. United as murderers. It is no wonder he can not feel the grace of God when he cries out. He lets his shoulders slump and hangs his head. Maybe the boy will simply accept that there is no good answer and they can continue in silence. It is not. The boy demands an answer. An answer to some of the very same questions he remembers asking Carden and the other brothers when he was first taken from his homeland.Questions that had kept him up in the darkness of his cell, that rolled around in his mind like the echoes of his mothers voice. He knows that his responses will not satisfy Percival, just as Cardens had never truly satisfied him; but, he will dignify the boy with an answer nevertheless. He slows his horse to match Gawain's pace and stares straight ahead, hood falling over his face. It will be an agony he cannot bear if he is to look at the boy now. He clenches his jaw and grinds his teeth before he finds the words and manages to speak. His voice is low and sounds like a wet stone on steel to his own ears, then again his head is throbbing still. “Killing Fey… it’s all I’ve known since I was younger than you are now. It’s what they trained me to do from the moment they took me from my home; tore me from my mothers arms.” Percivals voice is laced with disgust as he butts in.

“They trained you to be a murderer as a child? Didn’t you ever think it was wrong? When you got older?” Lancelot wishes he hadn’t obeyed the last command and made eye contact, the boy looks terrified and hurt and three kinds of enraged. “I did. Yes, especially at first. However as I got older it was harder to believe I had any other choice. When I refused to obey, or hesitated to spill blood, they would take my hands and make me do it anyway and beat me, after, until I couldn’t move for days. I was desperate to survive, so I did as I was told.” “That’s not an excuse! It doesn’t make it right!” Percival objected, though it sounded weaker than his previous sentiments. He hangs his head again, sombre and dejected and studies the horn on the goliath's saddle as though it is the most interesting thing he has ever seen. It is several moments until he gathers his thoughts again. The smell on the air is bitter with anger and leaves him feeling more nauseous than the headache. He listens to the steady rhythm of the horses moving along the path, of the stream nearby and finally he can speak again. “I know. And neither was using you as bait. I… I am truly sorry for that. I hurt you in doing so.” “Then why did you do it?” The fire is gone from Percivals voice, and something closer to shock fills it. He pointedly does not look at Gawain though he can feel the man's gaze on him. He flushes slightly. Then, resuming his forward gaze, “ I chose to see you not a boy, but as a tool. I was given orders and I needed to obey them.” “What does that even mean?” Gawain intercedes on his behalf, voice like ice chilling him to the bone. “He saw you the way they saw him. Fletching on an arrow, a dog to chase foul, smoke to run out foxes.” “Yes.” He whispers in agreement,, nodding his head marginally and tensing his shoulders. “How did you see the people in my village?” The heartbreak in Percivals voice is enough to stop him answering. He does not wish the boy further pain, he won’t lie to him, but he can’t answer this. Not right now. Likely never. “I. I won’t answer that.”  Now he does meat Gawain's eyes. Not in challenge; but in supplication. “Do you regret it? The things you’ve done?” Gawain asks over Percivals protests. It's not a change in subject, a very uncomfortable subject, but it is a change of topic and for that he is grateful. He does not turn his eyes away from the hazel ones staring into his soul. He feels vulnerable beneath the other man's gaze and yet he cannot look away though he desperately wishes he could. “Yes…” he starts slowly, “I do. More and more with every passing day. I knew when I was young that it was wrong. At some point, it stopped being about right and wrong. It was about survival. I did what I believed necessary to stay alive. At some point though, being alive wasn’t the same as living. Looking back…. It would have been better to let them kill me. I wanted to believe in Fathers words. Some days that hope of salvation he offered was all that kept me from going mad.”  He lets his voice drift soft at the end. Finally he looks away from Gawain and raises a hand to pet Goliath's neck. Sucking in a shuddering breath he attempts to settle whatever emotion it is rising in his chest and causing his throat to ache. “But knowing it was wrong is why you chose to save me?” Percival speaks again in the simplistic, honest way of children. “In part.” he notices the expectant look on Percival's face from the corner of his eye. “It was the knowledge I already had, something Father said and didn’t do, and Gawain's words to me. It was as though some part of me shifted. I didn’t have a choice after that. I knew it was the right thing—The only thing, I could do.”

He casts his gaze from Goliath's neck back towards the road, hands shaking so much that he grips the reins tightly in an attempt to make them stop. The boy falls silent, face scrunched up in thought. Lips pursed and chin tucked to his chest. He doesn't ride forward, but remains at Gawain's side. It’s an invitation. Gawain may ask him questions if he likes. He doesn’t and Lancelot finds himself relaxing at the knowledge that his answers have sated his new companions for the time being. There is an edge in the silence prodding at him like his ribs every time he breathes. Still, even with the sting of it present the journey turns in a more amenable direction.

The sun is beginning to touch the tops of the trees. It would be prudent for them to settle in for the night. As though the knight riding beside him can read mind Gawain directs Percival to look out for a clearing to stop for the evening. It doesn't take them long to locate a spot off the road, near the stream. It's perfect, secluded enough not to be noticed, unless they let the fire burn, yet it maintains plenty of sight lines to the road. They work in silence, practiced in their own right, as they unpack their few belongings. Gawain tasks Percival with gathering firewood and filling the water skins. He trusts the boy to know if the water is good or not. When he has gone and Gawain has given the horses their grain, the knight turns to him.

“We should discuss how the watch will work.” There is no malice, only deep rooted exhaustion and annoyance in his features. He nods his agreement and maintains the eye contact, waiting and not dismissive. “There is really no good way to do this. I don’t trust you to keep watch alone. I don't trust you to keep watch with Percival. Percival cannot keep watch on his own. And I cannot keep watch all night.” “You trusted Percival to keep watch of me while you were away.” He notes softly. Gawain grimaces and pinches his nose, his other hand resting on the pommel of his sword. “He wasn’t alone with you. And you were injured.” “Both of those points are still true.” He schools his features and forcibly does not smirk. It’s fun getting under Gawain's skin. He doesn’t mean to do it, but seeing the knight riled up turns his stomach pleasantly, so when it happens, as it will inevitably do, he pushes it just a touch. He’s good at reading people's limits, he had to be.

Gawain inhales sharply and Lancelot returns his focus. “You and Percival will keep watch together. If you hurt him, betray us, or decide to leave, I will hunt you down and flay you alive.” Gawain's voice is as unwavering as his eyes. They do not leave his face as the man stares him down, waiting for an answer. “I cannot offer you my word. There is no honor to back it. I can give you a promise of good faith in its absence. I will not harm the boy, or you. I will not betray you to paladins or animals alike that may come in the night. And I will not leave. I told you before and I hold to it still, I will face trial by the Fey council.” Hazel's eyes linger on his face and his cheeks heat under the scrutiny. The Green Knight stares at him, more than he likes. Absently he wonders if it's his way of trying to understand him. “I will take the first watch. At midnight, you two will take the second. If necessary Percival can sleep while we ride tomorrow.”

Supper is meager, but filling. Dried meat and some cheese. The fire is warm against his skin, and it is comforting. He watches as the flames orange tendril flick at the night air, coiling and unraveling. He admires the way the coal shines bright white. He forces his eyes away when an unwanted memory enters his mind. He stretches his neck and shoulders, wincing as it jostles his ribs, and focuses instead on the sounds around him instead of the smell of the fire, or the outline still visible through his eyelids. “Have you chewed any of the willow bark Bliant gave you?” The reprimand is clear in The Green Knights voice. He shakes his head. He hadn’t because he deserved the burn in his lungs with each breath to remind him of those he allowed to burn alive, most notably the Moonwing tribe. He deserves the ache in his joints and muscles for all those he has knocked down and left bruised and bloody in his wake. The nausea to remind him of those who had watched their family die around them. If his pain could not cleans him then it could be a reminder of his past actions. A reminder of who he was and what he had done. It was an atonement, not an absolution. “You’ll heal faster if you chew it.” Percival yawns from where he has crawled into his bed role. He’s snuggled down to his chin and rolled to his side, back to the fire. “Perhaps.” “Sleep better too.” The boy mumbles and shifts again. He doesn’t answer, just does what he knows they want him to do. He reaches for his bag and pulls out some of the bark. It's been ground finely like tobacco sometimes is so he can tuck it under his tongue or into his lip. It's more potent this way. He places a pinch under his tongue and instantly his mouth waters from the   burn. It is much more bitter this way than straight from the tree. Silently he settles himself into his own bedroll, cloak pulled securely around him. He falls asleep not long after listening to Gawain hum some ancient Fey song into the night. It's distant and all too familiar and pulls him right into the arms of sleep.

+++++GAWAIN++++

When he has finished sending Percival to gather firewood and water he turns his attention to the monk. He does not enjoy the prospect of him taking watch alone, nor can they avoid it.

“We should discuss how the watch will work.”  he attempts to keep his voice neutral and it seems to work as the monk turns towards him and makes eye contact. It doesn’t waver and that is a comfort to Gawain as much as it is prod to his pride. Lancelot should not feel capable of making  prolonged eye contact with him, they are not on the same level. He lets his eyes flicker over the other briefly as he crosses his arms and speaks. “There is really no good way to do this. I don’t trust you to keep watch alone. I don't trust you to keep watch with Percival. Percival cannot keep watch on his own. And I cannot keep watch all night.” “You trusted Percival to keep watch of me while you were away.” He rubs a hand over his face and settles for pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand falling instinctively to the pommel of his sword. He thought the man whispered before because he was uncomfortable, but it was becoming clear that perhaps it was simply in his demeanor to be quiet and subdued. It’s irritating. It's not that The Weeping Monks voice is monotonous, but that it is soothing even if it is raspy and low. His voice is too soft for a murderer, for a paladin. They were loud and boisterous, not… this. “He wasn’t alone with you. And you were injured.” He refrains from sighing, only just and straightens his shoulders instead. “Both of those points are still true.” There is a flash of emotion on The Monks face as he says the words, amusement almost. Gawain grinds his teeth and clenches his hand around the pommel of his sword, his other hand coming to rest at his side in a fist as he inhales sharply.   “You and Percival will keep watch together. If you hurt him, betray us, or decide to leave, I will hunt you down and flay you alive.” He aims for stern and threatening and knows he has hit the mark as he watches The Monks face as he formulates his response. He notes the way his jaw goes slack and then tightens as he furrows his brows blue eyes raging as he comes to a decision. “I cannot offer you my word. There is no honor to back it. I can give you a promise of good faith in its absence. I will not harm the boy, or you. I will not betray you to paladins or animals alike that may come in the night. And I will not leave. I told you before and I hold to it still, I will face trial by the Fey council.”  Gawain finds himself staring at blue eyes, and sculpted face longer than is appropriate or necessary. He forces himself not to react as pink rises across the other man's nose and cheeks. He narrows his eyes slightly and nods in acceptance. “I will take the first watch. At midnight, you two will take the second. If necessary Percival can sleep while we ride tomorrow.”

Their supper is nothing special, left over dried meat that Bliant had insisted they take and some cheese. There is enough for one more day and then they will need to take time to hunt. They wouldn’t if they could travel at a faster rate, but he knows what it’s like to ride with broken ribs and bruised skin and doesn't push them. Beyond that Bliant had been firm in her reprimand that they were traveling too soon and The Monks injuries could still be threatening if they were not careful. He watches The Monk through the fire, he is like some cold unmoving wraith and when the flames cast flickering shadows across his hands and face he can't help but admire the way they highlight the curve of his back and throat as he stretches out his neck and shoulders. He frowns when he notices the way the man winces from the pain and wonders if he's used any of the willow bark they were sent with. “Have you chewed any of the willow bark Bliant gave you?” He doesn’t mean for it to be a reprimand and yet that’s exactly what his tone implies. He really shouldn’t care if the man has chosen to neglect himself, and yet he does. The orders from the Hidden echoing in his mind and weighing on his shoulders.

The Monk shakes his head and that's all the answer he gets.

“You’ll heal faster if you chew it.” Percival yawns from where he has crawled into his bed role. He’s snuggled down to his chin and rolled to his side, back to the fire. A smile inches its way across his face. For all his anger earlier the boy still shows compassion and inadvertently trusts with his actions. It warms Gawain to know that even after everything the boy is not completely irreparably damaged. “Perhaps.” “Sleep better too.” The boy mumbles and shifts again. The sound of a rustling cloth draws his attention back from the boy and to the man across the fire. He watches with interest as he pulls out the little tin of ground bark and places a pinch beneath his tongue. He almost laughs when his eyes water and he swallows instinctively from the burn. Gawain knows the feeling like he knows the feel of his armor, or a blade in his hand. He thinks that perhaps The Monk does not and some distant part of him aches for that. It isn’t long before the Monk joins Percival in the act of sleep, curling his cloak around him and shifting more comfortably on his bedroll. Absently he hums an old lullaby of the Fey. He isn’t entirely certain why he does it, but it brings him comfort as he sits in the dark the flames of a dying fire his only company.

There is an energy brimming in him, aching to get out. He knows this energy, it’s familiar as it coils in his chest and squeezes his lungs. Anxiety. He has every reason to be anxious he thinks; for instance, his mind supplies, you died and now you're alive; not to mention The Monk asleep across the fire from him; or Squirrels mixed feelings of attraction and respect for the man; and The Hiddens orders to bring The Monk before Nimue and the Elders alive; nor the concern for his people taking a deal with Uther and leaving themselves vulnerable on the beaches, lastly the knowledge the Nimue may not even be with their people considering that very agreement. Who let her make such a decision? Did no one council her against it?  Of course not, fool, you weren’t there to be the stable one . They’re all just children. Why did I let her name herself queen? There had to have been a different way?

It didn’t matter now if there had been a different way or not. Not while he sat alone in the darkness, the embers of the fire the only source of light, dim against the void of the night. He sat, posture straight and proper as he had been taught as both boy and warrior. Tilting his head back, hair catching slightly in the bark of the tree he looked to the sky for answers. Where did he start? What did he start with, his emotions, the challenges, the people? It was all intertwined with no reprieve in sight. What was the most immediate source of discomfort? What was the most important issue at hand? What needed to be addressed first? Ultimately it was the ones that he was surrounded by currently. There would be nothing simple about sorting through his feelings about The Monk or determining the best course of action for helping to dissuade the boy from becoming more enamored by him. He wondered and wondered into the night about why the Hidden wanted The Monk alive. What could the man possibly do for the Hidden, for the Fey. His comment about the Fey using a warrior like him had been rooted in truth, he could certainly help change the tides of the war with his knowledge and skills with weaponry. But there must have been much more. Much much more. Right? He is a murderer, a kin killer. There is nothing about the man that says he should be redeemable. And yet that's what The Monk said it was that he seeks. He grimaces and suppresses a shudder as he recalls that he had offered the man forgiveness. Forgiveness of all things, for what, that he himself might feel better? Because he had hoped that the words would extinguish some of the hate in his heart? For the slim chance that he could be a good role model for Squirrel because the boy deserved people in his life that were good. Who weren't worn out by war and made ugly and deformed and broken by the things they have seen and the things that they have done.

Instead he had Gawain, broken and defeated by the consistency of war, turned bitter against the race of men. Gawain, who given the chance, would have stabbed The Monk in the back if it meant he could never kill again. Gawain who was loyal to his people, to a fault, and obedient beyond his own understanding to the Hidden. Nimue who was too busy to give him the attention he needed from some kind of motherly or sisterly persona. Nimue, made impulsive by the sword, violent even. Nimue with her boy troubles and love of manbloods. Nimue with too much worry over too many people for someone so young. Pym, barely a healer. The girl who wove nets who was never meant to be something more, but who always wanted to be. The girl who was too young to give wise counsel but tried nonetheless. The girl who sought to be useful and skilled but who was never important to anyone. The girl who deserved just as much and more than Percival himself. Arthur and Morgan man bloods who gave council. Good counsel at that, even if he did not wish to admit it. Kaze with the blood of a fierce warrior, and a taste for blood, but wise beside. Counselor of queens and battle hardened. And now, The Weeping Monk, harbinger of death and destruction, grey in ash and a parrot too. A man incapable of thinking for himself, content to live as a slave taking orders from his master even after he's been kicked like some kind of overtly loyal dog. He laughs bitterly, mirthlessly, the mist of night damp on his skin. What is he to do? To be? Why had the Hidden saved his life. It most certainly was not so he could be a mentor or a father to Squirrel, certainly it could not have been for the sake of the Monk. They could have chosen to tell anyone of the elders that he was not to be killed, instead they had resurrected him from the dead. He could have been done. This world no longer his responsibility. The Fey no longer his to protect or be concerned about. He should be dead, returned to the green where he should be able to rest for eternity. Instead, here he was, exhausted and cold, and so tightly wound that when the sound of a snapping twig reached his ears he found his feet in a fluid motion, sword drawn and at the ready. His eyes scanning the forest for signs of enemy and attack. Looking into the nighttide and saw nothing. Heart hammering rapidly in his chest he breathed deep and listened to darkness around him. No sounds followed the first. The tension does not leave his body. Slowly and carefully he makes his way around the perimeter of their camp stopping and listening occasionally. Satisfied that there is nothing nearby he returns to his location by the tree and settles in for a long night of waiting, wondering, worrying and overthinking.