#I just need more of Arthur talking fondly about what he thinks of Merlin to other people in general | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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7 times Merlin shows off his skills as a Physician,

+1 time The Knights have to work together to stitch Merlin up.

TW: Lots of blood and graphic description of injury/sickness.

The patrol had been going perfectly fine, even the small skirmish with a group of bandits was over and done with pretty quickly.

It was when the knights were taking stock of things after the fight that Elyan found Gwaine struggling to stand, leaning his weight against a tree and owlishly blinking his eyes with a look of deep concentration on his face.

Elyan put a soft hand on his back, quietly saying Gwaine’s name. The other knight whips his head up quickly to look at him, and the movement almost toppled him, but Elyan catches him with a hand on each shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Gwaine stares at him with squinted eyes, slurring his words as he slowly says:

“Elyan, mate, I don’t mean to uh... freak you out, but... there’s like... a whole bunch of you.”

It’s then that Elyan finally notices the slow trickle of blood from behind Gwaine’s ear, dribbling down his neck, he keeps hold of Gwaine’s shoulder as he looks behind him:

“Merlin! Gwaine hit his head!”

Elyan looks back around when he hears the knight gasp, to see him looking at him with wide eyes:

“Fuck, did I?? That’s not good, someone should.... should call Merlin.”

Elyan just bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, and nods sympathetically, as if agreeing with him. Gwaine slumps back against the tree and Elyan helps him sit down as Arthur and Merlin finally rush over.

Elyan moves out of the way, and Merlin crouches in front of the injured knight, setting his medical bag next to him as he takes Gwaine’s face in soft hands.

Gwaine gives him a bleary grin as Merlin checks his pupils and huffs:

“You... are very pretty.”

Merlin would have been happy to ignore Gwaine’s nonsense, but flushes slightly when he hears Elyan and Arthur snort behind him. He scowls at them briefly over his shoulder before beginning to clean the wound behind Gwaine’s ear, and checking for any further injury. The other knights gather around, having checked over the bandits for anything of interest, and Percival is the first to speak:

“He’ll be fine, won’t he, Merlin?”

Before Merlin can answer, Gwaine lifts a clumsy hand to pat the physician’s head with a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You know who is fine? This guy, very very fine.”

Merlin chuckles as he blushes, taking Gwaine’s hand and putting it back in the knight’s lap. The others laugh behind him but Merlin ignores them as he works, keeping his gaze on the wound, but speaking to Gwaine:

“Thank you Gwaine, but why don’t you keep your hands to yourself for a few hours?”

Gwaine huffs and pouts, looking very much like a child, but nods when Merlin smiles at him. Merlin finishes up, cleaning his hands as he stands, looking to the knights behind him:

“He’s got a pretty big concussion so he can’t fall asleep for the next twelve hours or so. He might feel nauseous at some point, and his balance will be way off, so I’ll ride with him. We need to keep getting water in him, but other than that, there’s not much we can do until it clears up. He’ll have a banging headache for a few days.”

Arthur nods, trusting Merlin’s judgement and gesturing Leon and Percival forward to help the knight up. Thankfully, they were on the tail end of their patrol and can just ride straight back to the city, but everyone takes great amusement in Gwaine’s slurred and nonsensical flirting with Merlin. That is, until the concussed knight turns his attention to Percival, and devotes his shoddy pick-up lines to the flushed giant, at which point it goes from mildly amusing, to absolutely hilarious.

Everyone worries when Leon doesn’t show up to training.

Gwaine being an hour late? Not a worry. Leon not being early? Definitely a worry.

But when Lancelot sprints back to the training field after being sent to check on him, calling Merlin’s name desperately, everyone’s worry gets vastly amplified.

Merlin runs up to meet him halfway across the field, brow furrowed in worry. Lance rests his hands on his knees for a moment, struggling to speak through his quick breathing:

“He’s... there’s something wrong with him, I... I think he’s sick.”

Merlin immediately starts a quick paced journey back up to the castle, sprinting even quicker than Lancelot in his panic; Arthur and the others follow behind him, having not heard the conversation but turning understandably panicked at Merlin’s reaction.

When they finally catch up to him, he’s sat on the side of Leon’s bed, checking his breathing and pulse with a frown on his face. The knight is practically catatonic, eyes shut tightly, murmuring and twitching in his sleep, drenched in sweat and shivering.

Merlin looks back with a gulp to Arthur, stood by the door with a worried expression:

“I need you to go to Gaius’ chambers and pick up my bag. It’s fully stocked, I re-did it last night and it should have everything I need, but I can’t leave him.”

Arthur’s eyes widen at Merlin’s last words, obviously realising how sick Leon is, but Merlin’s harsh-

“NOW, Arthur!”

-breaks him out of his stupor, and he sprints away in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. The other knights, a breathless Lancelot having finally joined them, go to crowd into the room, but Merlin looks up at them, sternly saying:

“No, everyone out, it’s probably contagious, and with Gaius in the lower-town I do not have enough hands to treat all of you at once. Out.”

They all reluctantly file out of the room, but leave the door open, and Merlin rolls his eyes fondly as they all stand in the hallway, staring at their sick friend with furrowed brows and bitten lips.

Leon mumbles something and shifts in his sleep. Merlin looks back down at him, wiping the sweat slicked hair away from his forehead and rubbing a soft hand up and down his arm. The knight blearily opens his eyes, breaths shallow and rasping as his hand twitches towards Merlin. The younger man gives him a soft smile, hiding his worry as he takes Leon’s hand in his own. Leon relaxes slightly at that, blinking at him confusedly as he mutters:

“Mer...lin? I don’t... don’t feel... great.”

Merlin nods, stroking the back of Leon’s hand as he softly replies:

“I know, Leon, I’ve got you. You’ll be fine in no time, alright? Just go back to sleep.”

Leon nods slightly, and closes his eyes again, trusting Merlin’s words. His hand goes limp in Merlin’s once again and the physician swallows worriedly.

Arthur finally runs back in with Merlin’s bag clutched tightly in his hands. He’s breathing deeply, and at Merlin’s gesture, gently chucks the bag to him from the middle of the room, retreating again to stand by the door.

Merlin turns his attention back to Leon, rummaging through his bag, as Arthur asks, the concern clear in his voice:

“What else do you need, Merlin?”

Merlin doesn’t looks up at him as he pulls various supplies out form his bag, checking Leon’s breathing periodically:

“I need a few changes of clothes, a patient pallet brought up from Gaius’ chambers, a constant supply of cold water and clean cloths, and a spare chamber-pot; he’s almost certainly going to throw up at some point.”

Arthur nods, going out to speak to the knights. He sends Percival and Gwaine to the physician’s chambers to bring back some of Merlin’s clothes and a pallet, sends Mordred to talk to the steward about having a servant outside Leon’s chambers constantly so Merlin could have whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, and sends Elyan to rummage through the storage rooms for a spare chamber-pot.

He walks slowly back into the room, but still keeps his distance, fidgeting harshly with his hands as he gulps, quietly, but worriedly asking:

“Will he be alright??”

Merlin, still not looking up from Leon and his bag, replies softly:

“He should be ok, but I need to keep an eye on him. I’ll be sleeping in here until he’s better, and I won’t be joining you at all until he’s at least up and walking around. Gaius should be back day after tomorrow, so try not to get injured until then, otherwise go to Gwen, she’s got a pretty good understanding of basic treatment. Shut the door behind you.”

Arthur nods mutely, understanding Merlin’s dismissal, and walking from the room silently. He turns back, quietly saying:

“They’ll be a servant out here to fetch anything you need. Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin nods distractedly, focused on mixing some sort of paste in a bowl as Arthur sighs, and shuts the door behind him.

It was about two weeks before Merlin moved out of Leon’s chambers, but it was at least a month before he stopped periodically, almost subconsciously, reaching for the knight’s wrist to check his pulse. There had been a few scares, when his pulse was so weak that Merlin could barely feel it; he lost a lot of sleep over those first two weeks, too afraid to close his eyes in case Leon stopped breathing, and too concerned about his friend to let another physician take over.

Leon found it endearing, but didn’t mention it when he noticed Merlin coincidentally bumping into him multiple times a day and finding excuses to touch his fingers to his wrist or neck, even briefly.

He was fine in the end, thanks to Merlin’s thorough treatment, but it was a scary couple of weeks, when having to think about burying Leon was a genuine worry.

(The knight also demanded that Merlin be given a week off from his manservant duties when he was feeling better, which Arthur eagerly agreed to. Though he did spend almost the entire time trailing Leon round like a lost puppy, under the guise of “making sure he didn’t overdo it”.)

Since he had arrived back in Camelot, Elyan had been spending more and more time in the family’s Blacksmith’s.

He felt the need to fill the void that his father had left in the old forge, and he enjoyed returning to his roots; there was something therapeutic about being surrounded by fire and hot metal once again.

But his years away from it all made him a little clumsy, having lost a little of the instinctual caution he had when he was a teenager. Which is what led him to be sat on a bench in the Physician’s chambers, watching with fond amusement as Merlin fretted and gathered various dressings and bandages.

The burn on Elyan’s arm was serious enough to need more than just cold water, but it was definitely not serious enough to warrant such worry from the Warlock.

He finally came to stand between Elyan’s legs, checking over the burn with soft hands after placing everything he had gathered on the table next to him.

Merlin looked up at the knight, and Elyan had to stop himself frowning at the man’s worry, and was that... fear?

He finally cleared his throat, glancing away briefly before saying:

“I uh... I could lessen the pain a little with magic, if you’re ok with that. But I have more than enough supplies to treat it normally if you don’t want me to, it’s really no-”

Elyan cuts him off with a gentle hand on the shoulder and a soft smile:

“It’s fine, Merlin. We trust you, remember? If you think your magic can help, then by all means, go ahead. I trust you.”

Merlin lets out a breath, relaxing as he nods and returns Elyan’s smile with a weak one of his own. He had only told the truth about his magic a few weeks ago, and things were still a little... raw. After what happened to his father, Merlin was expecting Elyan to be one of the least accepting of the sorcery, and he wasn’t wrong at first, but after a few harsh words from Gwen about all the times Merlin had saved her, and about how hard Merlin had tried to save Tom, Elyan did a complete switch, and became one of The Warlock’s most ardent defenders.

Elyan marvelled at the warmth spreading down his arm as Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he muttered a few incantations. The burn was still there, but it seemed cleaner, and definitely hurt less. Merlin followed up his magic with some burn salve and carefully wrapped bandages, looking up at Elyan with relief in his eyes at the knight’s fond, trusting smile.

He continued his bustling around the chambers under Elyan’s amused watch, returning with a few small tinctures:

“Take one of these a day, starting this evening; it’ll help with the pain overnight. Come back the day after tomorrow and I’ll re-bandage it. Let me know if... uh, you want me to... you know-”

He wiggles his fingers vaguely, and Elyan raises an amused eyebrow at him, slowly saying:

“Re-do the magic?”

Merlin bites his lip and nods slightly. Elyan gives him a wide grin, hopping off the bench and ruffling Merlin’s hair:

“Will do, Merls. Thank you.”

With that, the knight walks cheerfully out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving a very happy, slightly less worried Warlock/Physician/Servant behind

A particularly impressive move from Lancelot and a misstep from Arthur is what leads to The King sat on the grass with a belt between his teeth and Merlin stood behind him, one hand reached around and flat on his chest, the other on his shoulder-blade.

Lancelot is understandably freaking out, and Arthur is half focussed on how impressed he is, and half focussed on the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

Merlin moves his hand slightly and Arthur groans around the belt, biting down as the servant mutters an apology:

“Sorry. This is gonna hurt like a bitch but I need you to stay as still as possible, ok?-”

Arthur nods slightly, mumbling something that sounds like “just get on with it”, but it’s hard to understand with a mouth stuffed with leather:

“-Alright, on three, ok? One, TWO-”

On two, Merlin pushes Arthur’s arm back into it’s socket with a sickening pop, and The King groans even louder, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on the belt in his pain. The knights all wince in sympathy, Leon putting a soft hand on Arthur’s other shoulder as the man breathes deeply.

After a few moments, Merlin straightens the arm, moving it round in a circle to make sure everything is where it’s meant to be, before grabbing the sling he’d had Percival hold, and wrapping Arthur’s arm carefully, letting it hang against his chest.

Arthur finally spits the belt out, grimacing as he flexes his shoulder slightly. Merlin puts a hand back on his shoulder, eyes glowing gold as he mutters a spell. The blond lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding at the blissful numbness spreading from his shoulder, down his arm and across his back, before looking up at an almost hysterical Lancelot.

Arthur chuckles at Lance’s face, shaking his head slightly as he says:

“Very impressive, Lancelot, though if you could save that for enemies, that would be great.”

Lancelot finally bursts, not seeming to have heard Arthur’s praise:

“Ar- Your Majesty I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

Arthur waves his free hand in dismissal, taking Mordred’s offered hand and standing up, still with an impressed smile on his face:

“Don’t be stupid Lance, like I said, it was very impressive, and with Merlin around there’s no harm done.-”

Merlin grins and blushes at the subtle compliment.

“-Besides, I dole out at least one injury a month, it’s about time one of you got me back. Well done Lance, you beat everyone else.”

He says it with a grin, and Lancelot finally relaxes slightly, raking a hand through his hair as he gives the amused King a weak smile, much to the other knights’ amusement. Merlin steps back in front of Arthur adjusting the sling and speaking forcefully:

“No training at all for a week, no full contact sparring or skirmishes with bandits for two. And I want to check it again before you start.”

Arthur’s face falls indignantly and he whines:

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad! It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

Merlin scowls:

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt because I numbed it with magic, prat.”

Arthur looks like he wants to argue, but Merlin just raises an eyebrow (very reminiscent of Gaius), the meaning of “I dare you to argue with me right now” VERY clear.

Arthur backs down, muttering a petulant “fine” under his breath, much to the knights’ amusement.

To say that Mordred was panicking would be a vast understatement.

But to be fair, everyone was panicking.

Everyone thought that the fight had gone rather well, finally surviving a battle with mercenaries injury free, that was until Mordred had tried to stand up, only to find that he couldn’t breath, and his chest hurt.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he lay on the ground, squeezing Arthur’s hand so tightly The King was sure it would bruise; but he didn’t care about that, all he cared about was running his free hand over the younger man’s armour, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong.

Mordred took in shallow, gasping breaths, his vision swimming as the stabbing pain in his chest spiked with every movement. He had been calling out for Emrys in his head, unable to speak, and finally the panicked man burst through the trees, pushing through the crowd of knights and dropping to his knees at Mordred’s side.

He’d wondered off an hour or so ago to collect some herbs for Gaius, and had missed the whole fight, though he’d begun his sprint back when Mordred had called out for him at the start of the battle, pushing himself even faster when it became apparent that the younger man was badly injured.

Arthur immediately looks up at him, but doesn’t let go of Mordred’s hand as he speaks quickly, only just managing to keep the shaking out of his voice:

“He can’t breath properly, I think he got kicked in the chest but there’s no blood or anything, I don’t know what’s wrong with him Merlin, he can’t breath.”

Merlin curses under his breath, wiping Mordred’s hair away from his face as he rushes to say:

“Help me get his armour off, someone grab me my smallest knife and a roll of bandages, now.”

With that, Percival rushes to the dropped medical bag, riffling through it for what Merlin had asked for as Gwaine and Elyan rush to remove Mordred’s armour, and Leon and Lancelot move to stand guard, watching for any more attackers.

Mordred whimpers every time he’s jostled, but Merlin and Arthur hush him, squeezing his hand and stroking his hair. With the focused look on Merlin’s face, Arthur can tell that he’s talking to the Druid through their mental link, so doesn’t say anything, knowing that it’s probably the only thing stopping Mordred from panicking even more.

The armour finally comes off, and Merlin quickly puts his ear to Mordred’s chest, cursing to himself once more as he holds his hand out wordlessly for the knife.

Percival puts it in his hand without hesitation, and Merlin quickly cuts Mordred’s tunic away before hovering the sharp point over the side of his chest, looking up to Elyan and Gwaine still kneeled at his side and saying:

“Hold him down, he can NOT move when I do this.”

They don’t ask what “this” is, trusting that he knows what he’s doing as Gwaine moves to straddle Mordred’s thighs and hold his hips down, and Elyan pushes his shoulders into the floor. Arthur leans over to take both of Mordred’s hands tightly in his own, and without any more hesitation, Merlin pushes the blade down into Mordred’s chest with a soft apology.

Mordred whimpers even more, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and letting out a pained yelp when Merlin twists the knife slightly. With the movement, there’s a hiss of air, and Mordred takes a deep, gasping breath.

Merlin relaxes slightly, and nods at the others to let go. Gwaine and Elyan move back, but Arthur stays, holding Mordred’s hands and trying to cover the disgust on his face as Merlin holds the knife in place.

Mordred finally opens his eyes, and Merlin gives him a reassuring smile before looking to Elyan:

“Elyan, you’ve got the steadiest hands, I need you to hold this-”

He nods down at the knife, and Elyan’s eyes widen in panic before he gulps and nods his head, carefully taking the knife from Merlin’s hands, and holding it place. Merlin moves to where Elyan had been sat, above Mordred’s head, and he leans down, moving his ear from one side of the Druid’s chest to the other, careful to avoid Elyan’s hands holding the knife.

He listens to each side for about ten seconds each time, moving between them a few times, before finally sitting up and nodding to himself in satisfaction. He grabs the roll from Percival’s shaking hands, once again wiping the hair from Mordred’s forehead and giving him a reassuring smile, before looking back up at Elyan:

“Pull it out when I say go, ok? Straight out, don’t twist it, don’t bend your wrist, just straight out.-”

Elyan nods firmly and at Merlin’s-

“-Go!”

-he pulls the knife out, quickly getting out of the way as Merlin presses one hand over the wound, eyes glowing gold as he mutters a spell. Mordred lets out a breath as he’s relieved form the pain slightly, closing his eyes briefly before Merlin says:

“No, come on Mordred, I need you to stay awake, I need to know that you’re ok whilst I do this alright? You can sleep later, I promise.”

Mordred nods slightly as he opens his still teary eyes, and Arthur leans closer, smiling at him and asking some unimportant question about what he wants for his birthday coming up. Merlin gives the King a grateful smile as he brings his hand away from the bloody wound, glad to see that the spell had worked and the bleeding had slowed considerably.

With the help of Gwaine and Elyan, Merlin gets Mordred into a sitting position, wrapping the bandages tightly around his chest, periodically checking his pulse and breathing with his hand.

He ties it off, letting a breath of relief escape him as he collapses back onto the floor. Mordred is slumped against Arthur, groaning as he desperately tries to keep his eyes open, but Merlin presses a hand to his forehead, eyes once again glowing gold as he mutters:

“Sleep.”

The younger man passes out pretty much immediately, and Arthur supports his weight, giving Merlin a concerned, questioning look. The Warlock meets his gaze, giving him a weak smile and nod:

“Collapsed lung, had to release the pressure. He’ll be fine, but infection is a concern so I need to get him back to Camelot as soon as possible.”

Arthur nods, and with a gesture from him, Leon and Lancelot lean down to pick the younger man up, carefully depositing him on the front of Arthur’s horse, to be taken back to the castle.

Merlin looks around to the others, noticing the shaking that had slowly started in Elyan’s hands as he stares down at the blood coating his fingers. Merlin touches a soft hand to his shoulder, and Elyan gasps, looking up at him quickly with wide eyes. Merlin gives him a smile, hovering his hand over Elyan’s as he murmurs a spell.

The knight looks down again to see his hands completely clean, and he flexes his fingers, before giving Merlin a tight smile, and muttering a quiet thank you.

Everyone mounts their horses, quickly urging them to follow Arthur back to Camelot.

Lancelot was trying his best not to wince, but his wrist really did hurt.

They’d just made camp; Merlin, Lancelot, and Arthur were on their way back from visiting Hunith in Ealdor for a few days.

Originally it was meant to just be Merlin and Lance, but Arthur insisted that he come along for extra protection. All three of them knew it was just an excuse (Merlin was the most powerful Warlock in existence after all) but no one mentioned it. It had taken months and a lot of sleepless nights for Arthur to finally get the magic ban repeal through, and Lance and Merlin knew he needed a few days off, with no worries or responsibilities or titles or stupid crowns or councillors or meetings, so they were happy to have him tag along.

The knight must have sprained it when fixing the barn roof, but was reluctant to say anything; he didn’t want to put a dampener on the mood, and Hunith had been so accommodating, he didn’t want to be a bother. But when Merlin noticed him struggling to remove his saddle-bag with one hand, he raised an eyebrow, and held his hand out wordlessly.

Lancelot went to fake innocence, but Merlin just raised his eyebrow further and crooked his fingers. The knight sighed, putting his wrist in Merlin’s hand with nothing but a sheepish look. The Court Sorcerer ran his fingers over the soft skin there, noting the bruise with a disapproving tut before he mutters a spell.

His eyes flash gold, and Lance flexes his wrist as both the pain and bruise recede. He nods with a smile:

“You’re getting better at that.”

Merlin just huffs and rolls his eyes:

“Yes, well, you knights do insist on giving me plenty of opportunities to practice.-”

Lancelot huffs out a brief laugh, before he quietly apologises. Merlin just shakes his head with a smile:

“-It’ll still be tender for a few days, so don’t use it too much, Physician’s orders.”

Lancelot smirks slightly, and Merlin knows he isn’t going to like what he says:

“Of course, anything you say My Lord.”

Merlin scowls and squeezes the knight’s wrist slightly, muttering-

“I will turn you into a fucking toad.”

-much to Lancelot’s amusement.

Arthur finally reappears from collecting firewood, and raises an eyebrow at Merlin’s scowl and Lancelot’s laughter:

“What are you two up to, or do I not want to know?”

Merlin huffs and stomps off to collect his saddle-bag, and Lancelot clears his throat, still chuckling as he replies:

“Hmm. It would appear that Lord Merlin Emrys Ambrosius, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, Protector of the Once and Future King, Last of the Dragon-Lords, is not all that fond of his fancy new title.”

Arthur laughs, and Lancelot forgets his now long-gone pain in favour of joining in.

This was one of the most serious injuries any of them had seen in a very long time.

Leon had been called in the tent to help Merlin, having been the least tired with the steadiest hands at the time.

Arthur was pacing angrily, Mordred was doing his best to meditate, Lancelot held one of Gwaine’s hands in his own, and Elyan had an arm around his shoulders, as Gwaine himself bounced his foot up and down. At the beginning, he’d tried to hold his tears in, but as the image of a bloody and dying Percival slowly cemented itself in his mind, he gave up, and let them flow.

They’d been in there for hours, and whilst the rest of the knights tried to have faith, the angry curse that Merlin had let out almost two hours ago, closely followed by hurried movements and Leon shakily asking what he needed to do, had not helped their anxieties.

Inside the tent, they were just finishing up. There was blood everywhere, metres worth of soaked bandages strewn around the tent, along with most of Merlin’s medical bag, which had been upturned and spread around for quick access.

Leon was exhausted, having spent hours monitoring Percival’s breathing and pulse with no break, passing Merlin whatever he asked for, and occasionally having to hold bits of his friend together whilst Merlin worked his magic (both literally, and metaphorically). But however tired Leon was, Merlin was a hundred times worse.

He’d drained most of his energy during the fight, and had to dig incredibly deep to pull out enough magic to keep Percival alive whilst he stitched him back together. The blade he’d been stabbed with was imbued with dark magic, and shards had splintered inside the wound. Luckily, no organs had been punctured, but plenty of blood vessels had been nicked, and nothing could be left inside or it would cause likely deadly problems later down the line.

That just meant almost everything had to be done by hand; magic was useful in keeping the knight asleep, and dulling the pain as much as he could, but as far as the actual healing went, Merlin had to focus on keeping his mind sharp and his hands steady.

His face had remained blank, and his voice deadpan through the whole process, and around half a candle-mark in, Leon asked in a whisper:

“How are you so calm? I... I’m trying my best but I don’t know how you’re doing this.”

Merlin doesn’t look up at him as he quietly replies:

“If I panic, he dies. I have to trust that I know what I’m doing, and just get on with it. You’re doing fine, Leon. It isn’t... it isn’t Percival, it’s just another knight-”

Merlin’s voice lowers, whispering his last words to himself:

“-just another patient.”

Leon nods, taking another of many deep breaths, focusing on keeping his hands steady and counting Perci- the patient’s breaths.

It was maybe an hour later, that Leon widened his eyes, looking up at Merlin in a panic; before he can say anything, Merlin feels it as well, cursing loudly to himself and dredging up his last reserves of magic to hold his tools in place (in Percival’s abdomen), moving up hurriedly to be by his chest, where he quickly starts CPR.

Leon takes a deep breath, gulping before says:

“Merlin, what do I... what do I do??”

Merlin doesn’t say anything, focusing on keeping rhythm, and Leon can hear him counting under his breath; he gets to twenty-seven when the knight starts breathing on his own again, and Merlin gives himself enough time to take a fortifying breath before going back to the wound and carrying on with what he’d been doing, as if nothing had just happened.

Another hour later, Merlin was putting the last stitches in, satisfied with his work, but by no means... hopeful.

And half a candle mark after that, the knight had been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged, tightly.

Leon (shakily) and Merlin (blankly) cleaned all of the Physician’s tools, and packed away all the detritus; they needed to keep Percival’s environment as clean as possible. He’d tried to force himself to do more, but Merlin’s energy had almost completely abandoned him, and Leon had convinced him to give it a rest; the longer he tried to force it, the longer it would be before his magic built up enough to be useful again.

Merlin finally exited the tent, drenched in blood, leaving Leon to keep an eye on Percival whilst he went to update the others.

When he set foot on the leaves, everyone’s head whipped up. Arthur had given up his pacing, and Mordred had abandoned his meditating, but Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot were all still huddled together; though everyone jumped up quickly when they set eyes on Merlin.

They looked at him expectantly, desperately, and Merlin met Arthur’s gaze first:

“You need to go sit with him, Arthur-”

He’s interrupted by a pained cry from Gwaine, and Arthur’s grief-stricken face. A request for the King to go sit with an injured man... that could only mean one thing in their minds. Merlin held his hands (still bloody) up placatingly:

“-he stopped breathing once, but we got him going again. If he makes it cleanly through the night then his chances shoot up, but if he gets an infection before morning then... there won’t be much I can do. Someone needs to go in with Arthur to take over from Leon, he’s exhausted-”

Mordred takes a step forward, a concerned look on his face as he softly says:

“You’re tired too, Merlin, you should sleep.”

Arthur nods, but Merlin waves him off, muttering:

“I’m fine.”

Everyone notices the bleariness of his eyes, and the shaking that had just begun in his hands, but they don’t say anything. They had been expecting this, it happens every time there’s a serious, life threatening injury. Merlin can compartmentalise for as long as needs to, but shock usually hits an hour or so later, when everything catches up to him. With how serious this injury had been, with how exhausted Merlin is, and how covered in blood he is, they aren’t surprised that it’s hitting a little sooner than normal.

Arthur nods at Elyan, and the knight takes that as his cue to go into the tent. Leon walks out a moment later, almost as covered in blood as Merlin, and breathing deeply, tears in his eyes as he heavily sits down. Lancelot wraps him in a blanket cleaning his hands wordlessly with a wet cloth before pushing him to the floor and telling him to get some sleep. Leon closes his eyes and is gently snoring within seconds; Lancelot goes back to Gwaine, forcing the man to look away from the still fairly bloody Leon as he whispers reassurances to him.

As this is happening, Arthur walks slowly to Merlin, putting a soft hand on his shoulder and gently saying:

“What do you need, Merlin? Right now, what do you need?”

Merlin’s eyes had been getting wider and wider as he stared down at his hands, covered in blood and now shaking violently. He looks up in shock at Arthur’s touch, seeming to have forgotten that he wasn’t alone:

“I.. uh, I need two people with Percival at all times, monitoring his breathing, pulse, and temperature. I need... need his pupils checked every ten minutes or so, and I need someone to count how many rolls of bandages I’ve got left so I can figure out how often I can afford to change them and.... and I-”

He looks back down to his hands, gulping, and Arthur can tell that Merlin is really not with it as he continues:

“-I need to go... go and wash my hands.... excuse me.”

With that, he stumbles off in the direction of the stream they had been taking water from. Arthur gestures at Mordred to follow the Warlock, before exchanging short nods with Lancelot, and going into the tent.

Mordred grabs a cloth and a spare tunic, before following Merlin’s trail. When he catches up to him, the older man is knelt at the side of the stream, scrubbing his hands viciously in the water. Mordred sits slowly besides him, gulping before quietly saying:

“Emrys? Merlin?”

Merlin hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t look up, and Mordred huffs quietly, leaning over to take Merlin’s hands with a quiet:

“Let me.”

Merlin tenses only slightly before he fully relaxes, and the two men move to sit cross-legged, facing each other. Mordred dips the cloth he bought in the stream, and carefully wipes the blood from Merlin’s hands and arms. The Warlock sits absolutely still, and Mordred can tell that he isn’t really... present. He tilts Merlin’s head up, and his eyes seem to come into focus slightly as the Druid cleans away the blood on Merlin’s cheek and temple.

Mordred puts the cloth to the side, picking up a spare tunic and offering it to the other man:

“I thought you’d like to change.”

Merlin looks down to the offered fabric, and it takes him a few moments to process what Mordred had said before he nods slowly, and takes the tunic. He stands on wobbly legs, and Mordred quickly follows him, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

Mordred looks away as Merlin changes. It wasn’t that he really cared, but Merlin was usually incredibly careful to hide his scars from people, (though everyone was aware that they existed, having caught glimpses here and there) but he was far too out of it to realise what he’d done. Mordred refused to take advantage of Merlin’s shock just to satiate his own curiosity about the marks marring his mentor’s skin.

He looks back to see Merlin just stood there blankly, bloody tunic dumped on the floor and hands still shaking slightly. Mordred sighs, he’s been warned about this, but he’s never seen it this bad before; it would seem that the last few hours had finally caught up to Merlin. The Druid takes a few careful steps forward, gently laying his hands on Merlin’s shoulders as he speaks to him in his mind:

“Merlin? You with me?”

His body doesn’t move at all, but Mordred can see his jaw twitch as he gets-

“I’m... I’m with you.”

-from the link. He sighs again, pulling Merlin into a hug; one hand running through the other man’s hair, the other hand firmly in the centre of his back, acting as an anchor, trying to keep Merlin in the here and now. It takes a few moments, but Merlin returns the hug eventually, burying his face in the crook of Mordred’s neck, and holding him tightly round the middle, breathing deeply.

Merlin takes a deep breath as he feels Mordred’s magic probing him for injuries and soothing his headache and exhaustion. In all the rush of Percival almost dying, Merlin hadn’t checked in with himself, and is surprised when Mordred finds, and heals, a bruised rib, and a cut on the back of his leg. Mordred doesn’t have nearly enough energy to be of any help to Percival, but he can heal Merlin’s aches and pains.

Merlin pulls back from the hug, giving Mordred a brief, teary smile before he croaks out:

“I need to go back to Perci-”

He’s cut off by Mordred harshly shaking his head and placing a hand on the side of Merlin’s neck:

“No, you’re exhausted Merlin, you need sleep. Arthur and Elyan are looking after Percival, but you and Leon both need at least a few hours of rest.-”

Merlin looks annoyed, like he wants to argue but is too tired to come up with a retort, and Mordred continues:

“-I promise, I will wake you up if anyone needs anything, but you’re of no use to Percival exhausted. Merlin, you’re about to keel over, and you don’t have any magic reserves left, I’ve given you a little of mine to start you off, but you need sleep.”

Merlin looks at him, his gaze assessing, though sleepy. He gulps, sagging slightly as he whispers:

“You promise you’ll wake me?”

Mordred gives him a weak smile:

“I promise.”

With that, Mordred picks up the bloodied cloth and tunic, tucking them under one arm as he pulls Merlin’s arm over his shoulder, semi-dragging the Warlock back to camp. He lays him down next to Leon, and the knight, in his sleep, reaches out and pulls him close.

Mordred lays another blanket over the two of them, before traipsing over to sit with Lancelot and Gwaine, where he finally lets his tears fall.

+1)

If Merlin knew how ridiculously they’d act, he would have hidden his injury and just dealt with it himself.

Unfortunately, Merlin had mistakenly assumed that Camelot’s seven best knights (one of whom was also King), would be able to be a little more composed.

He sat on a large rock, one arm hanging limply at his side, dripping blood onto the floor, as he stared at the knights. Mordred and Percival looked close to tears, Gwaine looked close to vomiting, Leon and Lancelot were just about managing to stay calm (but Merlin could see the panic in their eyes), Elyan was desperately riffling through Merlin’s bag, muttering something along the lines of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the-” , and Arthur was hovering directly in front of Merlin, biting his lip and breathing deeply as he offers reassurances to Merlin.

Merlin is half distracted by the pain, and half trying not to laugh at everyone’s panic. He’d both treated AND had so much worse than an arrow to the shoulder; don’t get him wrong, it was serious-ish, but it did not warrant this level of panic from seven of the Kingdom’s most fearsome warriors.

Elyan finally bustles over, hands full of random medical equipment, at least half of which are definitely not needed right now, but Merlin holds in his chuckle and doesn’t say anything. Arthur turns to the knight, gesturing everyone to gather close as he says, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice:

“Ok, do we take it out? Or do we break off the shaft and leave the head in?? I can’t fucking remember...-”

He trails off, and Merlin rolls his eyes, walking quietly to the remainder of his medical bag, and pulling out what he needs as he sits back on his rock. Gwaine glances back at him, but looks away again quickly as his face goes a little green and he mutters:

“Oh my Gods there’s so much blood.”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes; there really isn’t that much.

Leon looks to Merlin, and is the first to notice the man calmly sat there, treating his own injury. He lets out a very undignified yelp, stalking over and pulling the bandages and alcohol from Merlin’s hands and giving him a stern look:

“No, absolutely not, you’ve lost too much blood, you’ll make it worse, we’ll do it.”

Merlin rolls his eyes again, and gestures to the panicking group behind Leon incredulously as he says:

“This really isn’t a big deal, you lot are making a fuss out of nothing, I’ve had so much worse; can I have my stuff back now??”

Leon huffs, and Lancelot walks up to stand next to him, a concerned frown on his face:

“No, we’ll do it. Just... just talk us through it? It’s about time we had to stitch you up, I knew we’d need to eventually.”

Merlin stares at him for a few minutes, before sighing and shaking his head:

“Fine. Only you and Leon though, everyone else is too... jittery, for my peace of mind. They’re allowed no where near the arrow, or the needle and thread.”

At that, Gwaine goes even more green, mumbling a a quiet-

“Oh Gods, he needs stitches.”

-as he turns away. Merlin just scoffs slightly, and gestures Leon and Lancelot closer:

“Check the arrow for weakness, if it’s fully intact and feels strong, just yank it out. If it snaps, you’re going to have to dig the head out with a knife.”

Leon pales slightly, but nods, stroking his hand up and down the arrow far to gently to actually be able to tell anything. Merlin rolls his eyes:

“For pities sake-”

With that, he lifts his hand up, and pulls the arrow out in one quick motion, thankfully the head along with it. Gwaine promptly turns around and throws up in a bush, Percival running soft circles over his back distractedly as he stares in disgust at the bloody arrow in Merlin’s hand.

Leon gasps and Lancelot lets out an inhuman screech as he clamps a hand over the wound. Mordred whimpers and Arthur lifts a slow hand to cover his open mouth. Elyan blows a harsh breath out, stumbling back slightly and dropping all the things he had been carrying, much to Merlin’s annoyance.

Lancelot angrily looks to Merlin as Leon’s shaky hands try to thread a needle:

“Why?? Why would you do that Merlin? We have to be careful, we have to... we have to treat it properly.”

Merlin clears his throat, wincing slightly at the pain:

“You were being too careful. Let me put it this way, the longer you take, the more likely I am to get an infection and die a horrible death, all from a very simple, easy to fix wound.”

Merlin can vaguely hear Gwaine vomiting again in the background.

Leon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he mutters to himself:

“Just another patient.”

Merlin remembers what he’d said all those months ago on Percival’s almost-deathbed, and rolls his eyes; this was hardly of the same magnitude, but if it helped Leon thread the damn needle, then he wasn’t going to say anything. The First Knight looked up to Lancelot, showing him that it was ready, and Lancelot looks to Merlin:

“What next, we clean it, right?”

Merlin nods amusedly, and gestures to the glass bottle of alcohol that Leon had taken from him, and a clean cloth:

“It’s gonna sting like hell but keep going alright? Wash it out properly, then put pressure on it until the bleeding slows, then stitch it up. You know how to do stitches?”

Lancelot shakes his head, but Arthur steps forward and nods, taking the needle from Leon as he says:

“I do, I’ll do it.”

Merlin takes a deep breath a nods, and with that, Lancelot cleans out the wound. Merlin hisses in pain, clenching his hands tightly as Lancelot mutters apologies and the other knights crowd closer. Leon strokes a soft hand up the Warlock’s back, Arthur has a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder, Mordred was whispering reassurances through the mental link, Elyan stood by with bandages and clean cloths, and Gwaine gave Merlin his best smile, despite still looking a bit sick with Percival at his side, holding him up.

Finally it comes time for stitching, and Lancelot swaps places with The King, Merlin one again rolling his eyes as the blond takes a deep, fortifying breath. He finally starts the stitches, and compared to the alcohol just moments earlier (and the Serket sting, and the Dorocha attack, and the fireball, and the poison, and the and the and the...) it’s a tickle.

Merlin starts making a mental list in his head of all the things he’ll need to replace from his bag next time he gets to the market, which had apparently been the wrong thing to do, because a few minutes later Arthur is slapping him gently on the cheek and calling his name. Merlin turns to look at him incredulously:

“What??”

And Arthur heaves a sigh of relief:

“There you are, we thought we’d lost you.”

“Lost me? It’s an arrow to the shoulder, I’m fine! I was just thinking about all the bloody shopping I’m going to have to do, because you’ve given me at least two extra stitches, and used way too much alcohol and bandages! Honestly.”

Arthur is a little taken aback at Merlin’s outburst, but starts laughing after a few moments of shock, everyone else joining in, slightly hysterically. Merlin looks around at them, bewildered:

“Look, I know I... go into shock or whatever when someone almost dies but this... this is too much. You’re all ridiculous, and next time, I’m treating my damn self.”

Leon finally breaks out of his giggles, ruffling Merlin’s hair slightly:

“We’re just glad you’re ok, Merlin.”

Merlin rolls his eyes fondly, giving the knights a reassuring smile:

“I am ok, I’m absolutely fine. Honestly, seven of Camelot’s finest warriors all hysterically panicking over an arrow to the shoulder. Gods, I hope you know I’m telling Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen about this, and they WILL laugh at you.”

Arthur turns on him quickly, pointing a finger in Merlin’s face as he flushes:

“You absolutely will not.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking dangerously:

“Try me.”

THE END!!

Ok so this one was one of my favourite prompts ever and I’m so grateful @semideadpanda sent it in, so thank you!!

If anyone wants to extend this or write it out properly, then go for it!!

Check out This List of things I’m working on, it will likely be #15 next! :)

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midgardianweasley · 4 years ago

Note

GEORGE WEASLEY X PLUS SIZE READER MY SOUL NEEDS IT IT NEEDS IT NOWW

ofc ofc bestie, i hope it’s okay <33

All of your bodies are absolutely beautiful guys <33

All of you

George Weasley x Plus Size fem!Reader

Summary: It’s summertime and Y/N is spending her weeks at the Burrow with the Weasley family, invited by Molly and her boyfriend of 5 months, George. The family all decide to go to the local lake to cool off from the sun, Y/N isn’t confident with her body/stretch marks and says she just wants to stay home to avoid anyone else seeing them. George notices and convinces her that her body is beautiful the way it is.

Warnings: Body insecurities, stretch marks, anxious thoughts

Word Count: 1769

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist lovelies <3

Over the past week at the Burrow, the sun had been blazing, heat becoming a common frustration in the home. They had all tried everything they could to try and cool down, extra ice in their drinks, standing in front of fans, they’d even played quidditch so that they could feel a slight breeze, the air proving to be unhelpful by being at a complete standstill, the humidity was unbearable. Everyone was gathered in the living room, scattered around the room to avoid any possible extra body heat. Even Y/N and George who were always sitting together at any given opportunity had sat themselves a good couple of feet away from the other, the thought of being cuddled up with George had made Y/N grow incredibly warm. Upon hearing Fred groan about how boiling he was for what felt like the millionth time in the last half an hour, Ginny had had enough.

“Fred, for the love of Merlin, will you shut up?”

“I can’t help it! It’s like a bloody fire in here” He argued, tilting his head back against the sofa, quickly regretting it when feeling the fabric against his neck.

“We’re all feeling it Fred! we’re all hot, we’re all bored, we’re all agitated, you repeating the same thing over and over, isn’t helping.” You could hear the frustration in her voice, quickly replaced by the sound of Arthur Weasley standing up and walking around frantically

“Right, we’re not sitting around here for any longer, everyone, pack some swimming gear, we’re going to the Lake!” He announced, everyone cheering, everyone except Y/N. The thought of showing more skin than normal, sent a bolt of anxiety through her. She hadn’t felt comfortable in her own skin for a long time, imagining herself in a swimsuit had made her internally cringe. She was so used to wearing jeans and at a push, a short sleeved t-shirt, knowing what lay beneath. Y/N had never been a fan of her stretch marks. Her parents had always told her that they were signs of her growing, that it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of. She had always viewed them differently. Over the years, she had seen plenty of girls show their stomachs, their legs, and she hadn’t seen them. Or if she had, they weren’t like hers, their ones were white or clear or smaller. She thought something was wrong with her body. Why were hers not white? Why were hers a mixture of red and purple? She was soon brought out of her thoughts by George standing in front of her, placing his hands on her hips gently before speaking.

“You alright Love? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost” He chuckled

Y/N and George had only been dating for about five months, being close friends for a previous two years. He wasn’t aware of Y/N’s insecurities about her body, she always appeared so confident, she hadn’t let it show so to not bring any attention to it. Y/N stepped away slightly when feeling his hands lie on her hips, feeling him touching where she knew the marks where. Trying her best to ignore the frown on his face at the sudden loss of contact, she spoke up quietly.

“Y’know George, I think i’m gonna sit this one out, I’m not feeling so good.” She lied, briefly meeting his eyes but not maintaining the contact for long. His eyebrows furrowed slightly at her comment.

“Oh. That's okay, I’ll just go and tell mum we’re stay-” He went to leave, but Y/N caught his wrist, gently tugging him back.

“No no, you go have fun Georgie, I’ll just see you when you get back”

“Are you sure you want to stay? Will you be alright on your own?” He questioned, not entirely convinced by her suggestion, she seemed okay when they were all sat down? She never gave up an opportunity to spend time with his family?

“Of course my love, you go and cool down. Tell everyone i’m sorry though, I was excited to go” She lied through the grit of her teeth, pulling a tight lipped smile. ‘There it was’ George thought. Over the years, Y/N had a tell for when she was lying. Her smile was always different when she was telling the truth. This one didn’t quite meet her eyes, why was she lying? He didn’t mention it, he didn’t want to cause a scene or embarrass her, so with a simple nod of his head, he kissed her cheek and waved her up the stairs, going over to Fred when he’d heard the door click shut.

“Hey mate, where’s Y/N gone?” Fred asked, looking around to see if he’d just missed her in the flurry of people gathering their things together.

“She’s just gone upstairs, you lot crack on, we’ll follow after you guys.”

“You sure? I can get mum to go up if she needs some, y’know, woman to woman discussion.” Fred spoke awkwardly, unsure of how to help.

“Nah mate, we’re good, i’ll head up. Honestly, you guys go ahead” George waved him off, watching him meet with the rest of his family, Harry and Hermione included as they were staying with Ron for a bit during the holidays. When he saw them all walking off on their way to the lake, he ran up the stairs, taking two stairs up at a time, coming face to face with his door, he raised his fist and knocked gently.

“Come in?” Y/N spoke with a hint of confusion, she was so sure she’d heard the downstairs door shut. George opened the door, popping his head round first before stepping in, briefly seeing Y/N pull down her top, hoping that he hadn’t seen her stomach before approaching her. Deciding to keep his hands to himself this time, he began to speak. “What’s the real reason you don’t want to go?” He spoke, with only concern and love in his voice.

“I told you, i’m not feeling well.”

“I know what you told me love, but I also know when you’re lying, I want to know what’s troubling you so I can help.”

“It’s nothing you can help with.” Y/N spoke, but quickly jumping backwards when she’d caught eye of George beginning to reach out again. He picked up on her reaction again.

“Have I done something princess?”

“No, you haven’t done anything Georgie.” She sighed, feeling defeated knowing that he could read her like a book but had come to the conclusion that it was something against him.

“You can talk to me you know, if it is something I’ve done, I-”

“It’s not aimed at you, I just, I don’t like it.” She spoke, causing George to tilt his head slightly, not entirely sure what she meant. Seeing this, she spoke again.

“I..I don’t like people touching my stomach, or my hips, or my legs.”

“Is there a reason why? If you don’t mind me asking, you don’t need to answer, but i’m here to help if you do”

Y/N thought about it for a few minutes, George standing silently, giving her time to think it over. Instead of speaking, she lifted her top slightly, not a lot, but enough for George to see what in his eyes looked to be like red and purple lightning bolts. He looked fascinated by them. Shying under his stare, but not pulling her top down yet, Y/N mumbled

“They’re called stretch marks, if that’s what you’re wondering.” George looked up at her

“And you don’t like them?”

“No.”

“How come?” He spoke, being patient with her responses. She sighed again, taking a minute before answering

“They look weird, almost angry. They’re not faded and white like other girls. They just make me feel like my body is..wrong. I don’t know how else to explain it” She spoke, feeling vulnerable under his eyes, knowing he was looking at them, something she had always avoided. George’s gaze fluttered between her stretch marks and her eyes, feeling fully captivated by her. “May i?” He spoke, indicating that he’d wanted to touch them, she hesitated, but eventually nodded her head, trusting him to not judge her. He softly stroked them with his thumb, feeling slightly proud that she was letting him be this close to her, not just physically, but emotionally. He knew she felt vulnerable, she was trusting him with her insecurity. Because of this, he chose his next words carefully.

“I think they’re beautiful”

“George-” She went to reply, but he quickly cut her off

“No no, just listen to me for a minute, okay?” She stopped speaking, taking this as a sign to speak, he continued. “I think they’re beautiful. They’re a sign that you’ve grown. That your body is changing, a sign of something good. They don’t have to look like everyone else’s, your body, and every mark on it, is unique to you, just like your personality. All of it makes you the Y/N we all know and love. I know not everyone has seen them, but I can guarantee nothing would change if they were to see it. These are nothing to be ashamed of.” He spoke, still stroking the marks. Meeting her eyes again, he saw tears falling and heard quiet sniffles.

“Hey hey, what’s with the tears, Princess? did I say something wrong?” She smiled and chuckled softly

“Not a thing Georgie, I’ve just never heard of anyone speak of me so fondly before. Do you mean all of that?”

“Of course I do my love. Every word. I understand if you don’t want to go to the Lake, but, I think it would be a nice idea. You don’t need to wear anything you’re uncomfortable with, just having your company would be enough for us.” Wiping her tears while speaking. She shook her head.

“I think i’ll go, but I’ll just go with what i’m wearing, if that’s okay. I don’t want to wear a swimsuit.”

“That’s absolutely fine, princess. Whatever you like.” George smiled, about to turn to lead both of them out, before he was tugged back again. She leaned up to kiss him, just a peck, but it spoke a thousand words.

“Thank you for staying and helping me Georgie, it means the world to me.”

“Anything for you.” He spoke, kissing her again before the both of them walked out hand in hand, ready to go to the lake and meet the rest of the family, hopefully without Fred’s grumbles.

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @dracofknmalfoy @gaycatlord-stuff

#george weasley #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfic #george weasley x fanfiction #george weasley x fanfic #george weasley comfort #george weasley x plus size reader #george weasley x fem reader #george weasley stretch marks #fred weasley #molly weasley #arthur weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #the burrow

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Light beam

‘Dad, hypothetically… what would you have done if Mum was Sirius’ sister?’

Lily notices it first, Harry pines and James cheers.

(AKA the Jily Lives AU discussing Hinny, for @sweeethinny and @isidar-mithrim)

Read on AO3 or all below the cut:

__________________________

It’s getting late when James apparates at the Burrow, feeling tired. He had spent all week immersed in old tomes across Europe’s oldest libraries, reading lost scrolls of magic theory - Dumbledore asked him to study heavy curse breaks, for whatever reason -, while Lily was away in the strangest Order mission he’d ever heard of: tracking down their old Potions teacher, so Old Slughorn could return to Hogwarts that year. He doesn’t know why this is important, but then again Dumbledore has been more mysterious than usual lately.

James can’t care about it now; all he wants is to go back to their house, to Lily and Harry, and enjoy some part of Harry’s summer holiday with them.

Especially after everything that had happened in June.

But ever since Voldemort had been out in the open again, the number of Order missions had increased. James can’t complain - as long as the Order is doing their job, as long as he is in the field doing what needs to be done, Harry doesn’t need to be involved, and they can pretend there is no prophecy hanging around Harry’s shoulder, carrying the weight of the world with it.

Harry had been quiet and thoughtful since returning from school, and James hopes these last days at the Burrow had helped ease some of his worries; or, at least, that his humour had been better than last summer.

Molly greets him with a warm smile (after making sure they pass each other’s secret code because these are dark times) and points him to her orchard.

‘They’ve been playing Quidditch all day’, she explains amused, offering him a tea in her kitchen. ‘All week, actually. If I would let them, I don’t think they would even return for dining’.

‘Ron would’, James says teasingly, and Molly laughs, agreeing. ‘So… I take everything is fine?’

‘Harry’s been nice, James’, she assures him. ‘He’s been eating all right and talking and… recovering, I guess. But, yes, he seems fine. Like -’

‘A normal teenager?’

She nods.

‘Your son is a good boy’, Molly says fondly, looking outside the window even though they can’t see them out there. ‘You and Lily raised a fine young man. He deserves some peace’.

James sighs.

‘It’s all I wish for him’.

‘You can let him come here all summer if you want’, she adds. ‘We’ve given the highest security protection there is, and here I can keep an eye on him too while you and Lily are out. Harry will enjoy being with Ron and Hermione’. Molly pauses briefly. ‘And with Ginny’.

‘I will talk to Lily’, James says. ‘But I don’t want to bother you or Arthur -’

‘You won’t’, Molly affirms. ‘In fact, don’t you want to stay for dinner?’

‘Lily will be finally home tonight, Molly, but I will accept on another occasion. I will just collect Harry now’.

She smiles. ‘Just follow the sound’, she says, indicating the pathway leaving her kitchen door.

James nods in goodbye and he leaves the illuminated kitchen. The sun is setting, so the pathway is dark, but ahead he can see someone has lighted a blue bonfire; as promised, he hears them even before he sees them.

‘We aren’t really hurting them’, he hears Ron saying, his voice sounding both exasperated and fond, and James knows he is speaking with Hermione.

‘Still, there has to be a better way of keeping gnomes away’.

‘We can always make Crookshanks chase them away. He seems to enjoy it’.

‘He wants to eat them -’

‘Well, it’s that or throwing them away, so -’

James gets closer, stopping just right before the bonfire can illuminate him, enjoying the view. Harry, Ron and Hermione are around the fire, sitting on logs, and while Ron and Hermione are locked in one of their heated discussions - about gnomes, he supposes, but it never took much to get them started -, Harry is quiet, his back for them actually, evidently not being a part of their discussion. For a moment, James thinks this is a bad sign - that Harry is in one of his reflective moods - until he notices Harry is not really brooding.

He is looking up at the sky, where the dark shadow of Ginny flying can be seen cut across the sunset sky. Ginny is making some nice movements - training loops and mid-turn stops - that James will have to remember to praise her later, but right now his eyes are fixed on Harry’s face.

Harry looks… serene? It is not the right word, but James thinks he has never seen that expression on Harry before. He looks simultaneously at ease and amused and fascinated; he looks like his mind is miles away, but still, his eyes don’t miss any move Ginny makes as if he could watch her flying for hours.

And he is smiling like… again, James can’t put his finger on it, can’t name that smile, but he knows he has already seen it before, and not on Harry’s face. Not even on his own - for all the similarities between him and Harry, it is not a smile James has seen in the mirror before. Where then?

It looks so familiar...

Harry suddenly raises, and when James follows the direction of his look, he sees Ginny is making a sudden dive, straight towards the ground. Harry looks ready to bolt towards her, but Ginny straightens her broom and lands smoothly, with an infectious grin on her lips. She had been laughing during her dive.

‘Wronski Feint?’, he hears Harry asking teasingly, as he approaches her. ‘What do you think you are, a Seeker?’

‘Well’, Ginny seems deep in thought, considering his question, but James can hear the same tease in her voice. ‘Last time I checked, yes, I was one’.

‘What happened to only playing Seeker while I was out?’

‘Maybe I enjoyed doing nothing all match. Guess I will see you on tryouts’.

‘Good luck with that’, Harry smirks. ‘I’ll let you know the captain favours me’.

‘Aren’t you the captain?’, Ginny asks, giving him a sly smile. ‘Merlin, they make anyone captain these days’.

‘Watch out’, he warns her, his voice dropping amusement. ‘Or the captain won’t call you’.

‘And lose the Quidditch Cup because he dare to forgo his best Chaser? He wouldn’t’.

‘He wouldn’t’, Harry agrees warmly. ‘As long as such Chaser stays in the Chaser position’.

Ginny laughs.

‘That’s all this Chaser wants’, she assures him, her voice as playful as his. ‘Just try to play all games for once, ok? No visits to the Hospital Wing or getting banished again’.

‘It wouldn’t be a normal year for me if nothing happened’, Harry notes, shrugging.

Ginny sighs.

‘Guess I will keep training that Wronski Feint then. Someone has to win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor’.

‘With all the guidance of your captain, it should be easy’, he says, once more grinning happily, all negativity gone. ‘Of course, your Feint needs more improvement -’

‘Improvement?’, she scoffs, and James notes that all her indignation is softened by the fact Ginny is still smiling. ‘That movement would make any decent Seeker fall for it -’

‘I wouldn’t fall’.

‘I said decent Seekers, Potter’.

‘Oh, you are so on, Weasley’, Harry challenges, his eyes shining. ‘Let out the Golden Snitch, we will see who falls for who -’

‘Mr. Potter!’, there is a high shriek and James turns around just as Harry and Ginny look at him, finally noticing him at the edge of the meadow they are. Hermione is up on her feet, her eyes going from James to the bonfire and James has a pretty good idea of who cast the magical fire. ‘We were just -’

‘I am glad Molly lighted the fire for you’, he says dismissively, winking at Hermione, giving her a perfectly reasonable excuse for a bit of underage magic. ‘It is charmed to keep flies away, I hope’.

‘Dad!’, Harry cries, looking glad to see him. ‘You took long, I thought you’d stay in Germany forever’.

‘So dramatic, I wonder who you took that from’, James jokes. ‘Just arrived to take you home’.

‘Ah. Sure’.

That is not the reaction James hoped for. Harry always seemed happy returning home, his favourite place on Earth - but then again, James supposes, their house is so protected lately that Harry would be left alone there, unable to communicate with his friends by owl and most of the time alone, since James and Lily are working over the clock for the Order.

And there would be no Ron and Hermione there.

And no Ginny, he thinks, when he sees Harry glancing briefly in her direction, his shoulder slumped.

‘Molly offered for you to stay here during the day for the Summer’, he says, seeing a bright hope shining on Harry’s eyes at his words. ‘Why don’t I drop you here early and come to pick you in the evening?’

‘Weasley Daycare?’, Ginny pops in, grinning, and Harry turns to her with a mischievous smile already on his lips.

‘Someone needs to take care of you’, he says, and James thinks he isn’t really talking about Ron and Hermione. ‘Maybe even give flying lessons’.

‘I hope you don’t mind picking up pieces of your son, Mr. Potter’, Ginny says, winking at James. ‘He is going to be crushed tomorrow’.

Harry laughs, and it’s a sound so fresh and pure, that James laughs together.

They say their goodbyes and, as he and Harry are on the pathway to the apparition point, James keeps throwing glances in his direction.

That mysterious smile is once more on Harry’s lips, and James wishes he could remember where he has seen the same smile before.

He thinks of what he saw before between Harry and his friends - no, not all his friends. One in particular. Could it be…? James always thought they were a good match - certainly, their interactions in the past have shown all their potential -, and they seemed really friendly a few minutes ago, but he remembers how Harry was when he would talk about Cho Chang.

Nervous and red and sweating.

He looks the opposite of it now, really.

‘So, what was that?’, he asks, trying to understand his son. Harry blinks, surprised.

‘What?’

‘You and Ginny. You were… bantering’.

‘That was not banter’, Harry disagrees, laughing easily. ‘We were just talking’.

‘And teasing each other’.

Harry shrugs, unconcerned. James almost asks him directly what is really going on between them, but after a second he gives up. Maybe he is seeing things where there aren’t - Harry would tell him if there was something to tell.

But, still, that inexplicable smile keeps turning up afterwards, when they are dining and Harry is happily retelling his adventures from his days at the Burrow, talking about their Quidditch plays and throwing-gnomes contests and how he and Ginny were laughing about Bill and Fleur’s relationship and teasing Ron. James can’t help but notice Ginny’s name is mentioned most of the time.

Lily, who seems to as tired as James feels after a week away from home, is looking at Harry with an amused expression on her face as if she is watching for the first time a movie that will soon be her favourite.

‘Harry seems to have had a great time at the Burrow’, Lily says cryptically, as they are getting ready for bed. ‘I’m glad he will be there more’.

‘Yeah… did you notice something weird about him?’

‘Weird?’, she laughs to herself. ‘Different, maybe, but not weird’.

James looks at the smirk on her face.

‘You know what’s going on with him’, he accuses.

‘I was surprised you didn’t catch… But then again you didn’t notice the first time too’.

‘Lily - all this suspense is killing me. Harry is smiling like that all night and I can’t put my finger where I’ve seen it before -’

‘Come on, James, you know our son and me better than anyone. You really have no idea what is happening?’

He shakes his head, and she laughs again before placing a soft kiss on his lips.

‘Do you know how everyone says Harry looks just like you?’

‘Except for your eyes’.

‘And his smile’, she adds. ‘Harry’s got your lips, maybe, but his smile is all mine’.

‘So?’

‘So this Harry’s new smile is not new at all. If you weren’t so certain I wasn’t going to ever fancy you back, you would see that I beamed like that for you for a whole year before we went out together for the first time’.

‘Oh’.

‘Dorcas and Lene used to tease me all the time for being so oblivious to you - and they were right, it took me a long time of admiring you and pining after you to realize I fancied you a lot’.

‘Oh, so that means -’

‘That means Harry is still as oblivious as I was, so don’t interfere, James’, Lily adds, looking knowingly at him.

‘But -’

‘No prying. Let him find out in his own time. When he comes to talk to you, then you can gush all over like you want’.

‘That could take months!’, James complains, moping.

‘Don’t take that away from him’, she asks, laying down by his side. ‘Let him be a normal boy falling in love for the first time. It worked out for us, didn’t it?’

James sighs.

‘Well, Harry is much better than I was. Hopefully, it won’t take long’.

_____________________________

Harry doesn’t say anything for the rest of the Summer, even though, now James is looking at the signs, he sees it is really obvious how Harry’s eyes seem to shine brighter when Ginny is around, how he always looks for her the first time he enters in a room and how he seems to request her presence in everything he is in.

Lily says he can’t fault Harry for being clueless, reminding him that James had once been surprised when Lily had actually accepted his invitation for going out with him (‘I changed all our patrol rounds so we could always be together, James, and I kept finding reasons to touch you, how much more oblivious can a girl be?’), but James doubts he took that long to notice Lily’s feelings for him. And it’s his own feelings Harry has to notice - how much time can that take?

Still, time passes by and Harry starts his Sixth Year at Hogwarts without any mention of his growing feelings. His letters don’t say anything different, and James is almost giving up on his son ever realizing he actually fancies Ginny when they return home for Christmas.

And, by Merlin, it is suddenly so clear that Harry is pining after her that he doesn’t know how other people don’t notice it too. Harry actually sighs - a heavy, deep-from-the-chest sigh - when Ginny makes a silly joke and dances around him, his eyes following her with unquestionable longing.

He remembers Harry telling him how we went with Luna for Slughorn’s party - just as friends - and his confession that girls seemed more interest in him than usual, and James thinks all those girls are losing their time. Harry’s heart clearly belongs to someone else already.

The only thing James doesn’t get it is why Harry is pining instead of doing something about it.

As much as amused as Lily seems to be by the situation, she still forbids James of saying anything before Harry does, so James forces himself to press his lips for most of the Christmas holiday, watching his son stealing glances at Ginny like she is the only Golden Snitch he couldn’t ever catch.

Then, finally, Harry knows his father knows. It’s because of something silly, really: they are all together on Christmas morning at the Burrow, when Ginny says brightly:

‘Harry! You’ve got a maggot in your hair’, and then, as she picks it up, Harry reddens slightly and shivers at the same time. It’s rather adorable, James thinks, and he can’t help but smirk as his eyes meet Harry’s, which only makes his son flush even more, caught is his body admission that he is attracted to Ginny Weasley.

Fortunately for Harry - or not - there is a distraction in the shape of the Minister of Magic and the matter is dropped in all that happens and in the delight James feels as he watches Harry walking straight with Scrimgeour, refusing to accept being the poster boy for politics he doesn’t agree with.

Sometimes, more than others, James feels he and Lily did raise Harry very well. His heart bursts of pride for his son.

Harry is quiet when they return to their house for the night, accepting in silence the tea James offers him, and James thinks he must have a lot on his mind, with all the Minister proposed him and all Harry has been learning with Dumbledore - which the headmaster promised James and Lily it was important, even though he couldn’t share its contents with them…

‘Dad?’, Harry asks in a very soft voice. ‘Can I ask your opinion about something?’

James nods, thinking it’s strange for Harry to be so formal.

Harry glances around, to confirm they are alone in the Potter’s living room, before asking:

‘Just say it, hypothetically… what would you have done if Mum was Sirius’ sister?’

James blinks. There is a list of things Harry could ask him, a list of things that could worry him, but this…

He grins without being able to control it, and Harry sees it.

‘Oh, forget it’, he says, crossing his arms and looking very much like Lily when she is annoyed.

‘Sorry, Harry, I wasn’t -’, James fights back another smile, trying to look reassuringly at his son. ‘I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all. With everything that is happening, it’s nice seeing you worry about something so normal’.

Harry frowns.

‘It is not normal’, he murmurs.

‘Fancying your best friend’s sister? It kind of is’.

He can see Harry’s face heating up again, but Harry doesn’t deny fancying Ginny.

‘It doesn’t feel normal’, Harry says, with a heavy sigh. ‘It feels like I am betraying Ron or something -’

‘Take from a guy who has actually been betrayed by a close friend, Harry, this is not betrayal’, James assures him. ‘Do you just want to mess her around?’

‘No!’, Harry seems appalled by the idea. ‘I actually like her, but…’, he bits his lips just as Lily does when she is nervous. ‘Ron caught Ginny and her boyfriend a while ago together, and… and he was so mad that I keep thinking - if Ginny was with me there instead, he would hate me too…’

‘Ginny is dating someone else?’, he asks, surprised. He had never heard Ginny mentioning anyone.

‘Yeah’, Harry looks dejected. ‘Dean. He is nice, I suppose, and he can draw so well… Sirius always told me girls like artistic boys’.

‘Well’, James tries to joke. ‘You are the Chosen One’.

‘Big deal’, Harry answers, clearly thinking he is misqualified as boyfriend material. ‘It is not like I have worked for it’.

‘You play Quidditch’.

‘He is in the team too’, Harry points out, gloomy. ‘You said you and Mum dated other people when you were younger?’

‘Yeah’.

‘How… how did you deal with it?’

James shrugs.

‘I don’t know if I can tell you exactly, Harry. It’s been so long ago that any jealousy I felt then doesn’t seem to matter anymore. I just remember hating it, of course, and wishing it would be me. But also -’

‘You wanted her to be happy too’, Harry finishes for him, with a sigh. James gives him a sympathetic look.

‘You can’t meddle with her relationship, Harry. If she really likes her boyfriend, then there is nothing you can do. And if not… these things crumble with time. Like you and Cho’.

‘That was not really a relationship’, Harry disagrees but he nods. ‘I guess I just have to wait then’.

‘And when it ends, that doesn’t really change your situation’, reminds James. ‘Ginny will still be Ron’s sister. What will you do then?’

Harry looks at the fireplace, without answering, and James can read easily his intern conflict.

‘You and Ron have been friends for a long time, Harry’, says James slowly. ‘I think that means he trusts you, including to be a good boyfriend to his only sister. But unless you talk to him first -’

Harry throws him an alarmed look.

‘Yeah, I think it’s a bad idea’, James notes, grinning. ‘Ginny would hex you if she knew you were asking for permission from any of her brothers’.

That makes Harry laugh.

‘She would’, he agrees, his voice full of tenderness as if he loves the fact that Ginny would really hex him without hesitation.

Oh, Merlin, Harry has really fallen.

‘Well, then, you are going to take a leap of faith on this. You know, for once do that thing where you act first think later for a good reason’.

‘It’s easier facing Voldemort’, Harry says, only half-playful.

‘I can’t really say, I’ve only done one of them’, points James in the same voice. ‘But I really think Sirius would have been happy for me if Lily was his sister’.

Harry nods in silence, lost in his thoughts, until finally, he smiles at James.

‘I will keep that in mind, Dad. Thanks’.

James waves dismissively. ‘No problem. Just promise to keep me updated, ok? Your mum and I have placed our bets’.

Harry blinks.

‘Mum knows?’

‘No offence, Harry, but I am surprised people don’t know. You’ve been pining all over Ginny since summer break’.

‘I wasn’t -’, their eyes meet and Harry blinks, unsure. ‘I was?’

James nods solemnly. Harry shakes his head.

‘At least tell me you bet in my favour’, he asks, and James laughs.

‘We wouldn’t dare bet against you’, he promises, and he doesn’t add that he feels Harry wasn’t really the only one whose feelings have grown up during summer.

But that is for Harry to discover eventually, with a little bit of luck.

___________________________________________

Harry is beaming.

It is not that James has never seen Harry happy before; he was a cheerful child, and even with things getting darker lately, there have been good cheery moments.

But Harry is positively beaming, his mother’s green eyes shining with bliss and a bit of amazement as if he can’t believe he gets to be this happy. There is something weirdly familiar about that smile, though, and James wonders where he has seen it before.

‘Hi, Dad!’, he begins, and his smile is so bright that James is surprised the whole room isn’t alighted by it.

‘Hello, son’, he says slowly, trying to understand what made Harry call him early in the Sunday morning in their two-way mirror.

As far as James knows, ever since the last time he talked with Harry - and it had been a tense conversation when Harry had confessed using an unknow dark spell on the Malfoy boy -, nothing could have happened to leave Harry in such high spirit. There was the final Quidditch match the day before, the one Harry hadn’t been allowed to play - maybe Gryffindor had won? That still wouldn’t explain his exceptional good mood or the early call, though…

‘We won’, Harry says, almost like if he is reading James’ mind. ‘Over three hundred points, just as we needed it. Ginny caught the Snitch’.

Harry smiles even more than it’s humanly possible as he mentions Ginny, and James has suddenly a vision of himself twenty years ago, entering hurriedly the men’s bathroom on the Three Broomsticks, throwing water over his face to confirm he wasn’t dreaming.

He had been really awake then, still with that lingering feeling of Lily Evans’ lips over his, and he realized that it all had been real - his date with Lily, her confession that she definitely fancied him and their first kiss - until James was left facing his own reflection in the mirror as if it belonged to someone else - someone that was happy beyond words, someone that couldn’t believe everything that had happened. He had been beaming then.

Just like Harry is now.

Harry’s pining smile may be Lily’s, but Harry’s in love smile is all James’.

‘Oh, Merlin, it happened’, he cries, resisting the urge to dance with the mirror in his hand. ‘Tell me everything!’

‘We are dating’, Harry admits, the satisfaction clear in his voice. ‘I did my thing’.

‘What is your thing? If it’s a weird teenage thing -’

‘That act first, think later thing’, Harry says, laughing. ‘I returned to the Common Room and we had won - Ginny had won for us - and she was running towards me and she looked so amazing and she had this blazing look -’

‘You snogged her in front of the entire Gryffindor House?’, James asks, and Harry nods, not looking remotely ashamed. ‘I am so proud of you’.

Harry lets out another happy giggle. It’s the most carefree laugh James has heard in a long time.

‘It wasn’t planned, it just… happened. And -’, Harry’s smile softens a little. ‘Ron was really happy for us’.

‘Of course he was’.

‘He did warn me to not, you know, break her heart or anything, but it’s fair’. Harry looks resolute. ‘I won’t. Break her heart, I mean’.

‘Good, because you are going to answer to me too if you hurt her’.

‘I think Ginny could handle herself’, Harry points out fondly, undisturbed by his father’s warning. ‘And I just want to make her as happy as I feel’. He pauses, as if to gather his thoughts, and when he talks again, it looks like Harry is talking to himself. ‘It’s been a long time since I felt like this… normal, I mean. People were talking about us last night at dinner, but I just couldn’t care less for once, you know? All I could think was that I was just so lucky that Ginny happened to fancy me back and that she agreed to date me… It is like I have this Patronus with me all the time now’.

James smiles.

‘I’m so happy for you two, Harry. You once asked me how I felt about your mother - well, it started like that’.

‘Dad, we’ve been dating for a day, take it easy’.

‘I will uphold planning the wedding’, James promises solemnly, making Harry blush and roll his eyes.

‘As if you don’t have everything sorted out already’, Harry scoffs, but his voice sounds more amused than anything. ‘Well, I have to go. I promised I would meet her for breakfast’.

‘Then go, don’t let your girlfriend waiting’.

‘Girlfriend’, Harry repeats, seeming to savor the word. ‘See you later, Dad -’

‘Actually, Harry, one thing before you go. Who made the first move?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You kissed her, or did she kiss you?’

Harry looks thoughtfully.

‘I think it was me, but since she was coming towards me... Does it make a difference?’

‘It does for us. That’s what your mum and I bet about’

Harry chuckles again.

‘Let me guess, you bet on Ginny’.

‘It’s not that I don’t trust you, son -’

‘That’s okay, I would bet on her too’, Harry assures. ‘I will discuss this later with her’.

‘Oh, “discuss”, is that how you say snogging nowadays?’

‘I said later, not that it’s all we would do’, Harry ponders, shameless. ‘Now I really gotta go. Don’t want to leave her waiting for me’.

‘Go on’, James says, watching the mirror flicker and show his own smiling face.

He is still grinning when he returns to the bed and kisses the top of Lily’s head as she rolls to hug him.

‘What was it?’, she asks lazily.

‘Oh, nothing unusual. Just our son finally kissing Ginny’.

‘What?’, Lily jumps, suddenly waken. ‘Tell me everything!’

#Eyes glistening #Jily lives #Hinny #Harry and Ginny #James Potter #Lily Potter #Jily supports Hinny #t: fanfiction

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Did You Know?

Prompt: the merlin fic you wrote with a crying arthur who didn't realize he had a hand in normalizing merlin to physical pain/punishment is HEARTBREAKING and i couldn't help but think while reading it that merlin may have just assumed that the knights and arthur //knew// visting knights were handsy w him and just didnt care, like he just thought it was normal and they would expect nothing less. anyway if u wanna write something that has that kind of idea/vibe i'd be delighted to read it! love u <3

Ahh yes more h/c here we go

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: visiting nobles and knights are dicks. implied/referenced rape/non-con and abuse NOTHING EXPLICIT

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 3031

Merlin is…confused.

He’s doing his job as a servant—not that he’s begrudging his position that much, destiny is destiny, after all—and putting up with all the things that servants are supposed to put up with.

The learning curve was very steep, don’t get him wrong. Coming from Ealdor, where the only authority figure he absolutely had to listen to was his mum, and straight into Camelot’s complex authority structure with rules and consequences and all the messy trappings of those horrid make-believes he and Will used to do when they were little boys. Hell, he ended his first full day in Camelot arrested, relying only on Gaius’s social powers in court to get him released. He’s not exactly a beacon of well-mannerisms.

So if it took him a while to get used to the type of work Arthur was going to have him do, that’s fine! He’s never had to put armor on anyone before, let alone the Crown Prince, who expected him to do all that and then some. He’s never known how to clean shiny pieces of metal that just serve to attract more attention than they’re worth, they never had shiny pieces of metal other than coin. And he’s certainly never known how to dodge swords being swung at his head. Never.

It wasn’t expected—no, it wasn’t, you prat—for him to be able to shrug on all these new responsibilities, even if he had been trained as a servant, because he’s never done them before. Thank the gods for Gwen, honestly, who was more than happy to make sure he at least knew how to hold a sword without cutting himself.

“Here’s the next one,” she’d called, handing him the next training sword from the batch, “now, try again.”

“This is the rag, this is the polish, and we just—ow!”

“Try not to polish the edge of the blade, Merlin.”

“I knew that,” he had muttered sheepishly, rubbing the cloth over the flat of the blade this time, “but thank you.”

Gwen had rolled her eyes fondly. “Just keep trying, you’re doing great.”

So he had just…done his best to learn what to do. Which would’ve been easier had he also not been learning how to act.

‘Yes, sire.’

‘No, sire.’

‘As you wish, sire.’

‘Sire’ this and ‘sire’ that and bloody hell, why is he not allowed to say anyone’s bloody name?

Formalities have never really been Merlin’s strong suit, not that he’s ever really needed them. And now that he has to use them, he’s starting to regret not paying attention to his mum’s scoldings. Just a little bit. Not that much. It’s not entirely his fault, is it, that those lectures were so boring and there were things he could’ve been doing.

But here…

Here, if he doesn’t address someone the right way, he gets cuffed around the head. The first time it happened, his hand flew to his head in shock. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap—he’s had worse walking into the door by himself—but the fact that someone was allowed to hit him, was expected to hit him, and it was his own fault was…jarring.

He learns his lesson about trying to hit back much quicker.

He still slips up from time to time, even now, after so many years, but his reflexes have gotten a lot better. Goblets, combs, hunks of bread, boots, staffs, just about every object he can think of, he’s had thrown at his head. With Arthur, it’s fine, he can snipe back perfectly well on his own, and it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He just bites back enough to make it a little more bearable. And besides, Arthur hasn’t ever seriously hurt him, maybe because he’s always lauding about how strong he is and how weak Merlin. Doesn’t want to break him.

And he can get away with it with some of the knights. The close ones, sure. Leon—well, he doesn’t try that much shite with Leon. Leon’s terrifying, not just because he’s one of the oldest knights and the longest-serving of Arthur’s inner circle, but because he knows things. Leon’s perception scares the hell out of Merlin, not in the least because he’s got so much to hide.

Does he ever think Leon would seriously hurt him? No, but he might tell people who would.

Percival is a big man. His arms are about the size of Merlin’s skull. He doesn’t want to get near that man’s bad side, even if he hasn’t found it yet.

Elyan is sneaky. He’s got just enough say to be dangerous, not enough to be an obvious suspect. And he’s got Gwen on his side—or more specifically, Gwen’s got him on her side. Gwen would never hurt him, he knows, he trusts her too much.

Lancelot is the only one he’s not afraid of, him and Gwaine. Mainly because he knows that they know.

…look, you do what Merlin’s been doing for as long as he’s been doing it, you slip up. It happens.

But Lancelot never looked at him differently. Never raised a hand to him to hurt him, always touched him gently, spoke softly, sparred with him in good faith. Even when he swings a spear at him in jest, it’s never too fast to actually bruise him if it connects.

Gwaine slaps him on the shoulder, claps him on the back, hard enough to bruise sometimes, but he cares. He hides it well—well, sort of—and looks out for Merlin when Lancelot can’t. But he knows Gwaine has a breaking point, and he’s not super keen on looking for it.

He can get away with it. A little. Not a lot.

But only with them.

With the other knights…

One of the hardest things he had to learn was that no one cared.

When a knight smacks him over the head with the flat of a dulled blade, it doesn’t matter that the sight of a blade swinging at his freezes terror in his throat, nor that the ring of the blade won’t go away for three hours. The others will just laugh and tell him to move his arse.

When a knight knocks the equipment out of his hands and snarls at him to get moving, it doesn’t matter that it’s often accompanied by a boot to his ribs. He’ll always get elbowed in the exact same place later and they won’t care about his wince.

When a knight decides that he’s had enough of Merlin just looking at him, he—

The other thing that Merlin’s had to learn very, very quickly, is that it’s better him than the other servants.

He has Gaius. Gaius will patch him up, no questions asked. And when he can’t go to Gaius, it’s not like he’ll be caught lurking suspiciously in his own quarters. And when he can’t do that, he has his magic.

None of the others do.

So he learns. He picks up the things he needs to know, puts his head down, and bears it.

That’s what servants are supposed to do.

So you can imagine that when the others look absolutely horrified as he explains to them that he knows how this works, he’s learned, he’s confused.

“Come on, guys, it’s not like the other servants don’t know this.”

“It’s funny,” Gwaine growls, his fist tightening on the table, “how you think that makes this any better.”

Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’m not a gossip, Gwaine—“

“That,” Elyan says, “is not true.”

“—okay fine, I enjoy a bit of the servant’s gossip as well as anyone, but not about this!” He shakes his head. “It’s fine, they know about it, it’s not like anyone cares.”

“See, Merlin,” Lancelot says quietly, “that’s where you’re wrong.”

Merlin frowns. What are they talking about? Who’s noticed? Is he doing it wrong? What does he need to fix?

See, his confusion only grows when he voices those concerns and the knights only seem to grow more upset.

“I can’t believe this,” Gwaine mutters, turning away, “how long has this been happening, Merlin?”

“Which part?”

Gwaine is doing a remarkable impersonation of someone who is extremely constipated. “…all of it.”

“I mean, it began as soon as I set foot in Camelot, if you want to go from the very beginning.”

Leon swallows. “And if we asked for you to be…more specific?”

Merlin huffs, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so concerned about this? It’s nothing to worry about!”

“You’re being abused, Merlin,” Arthur—since when has Arthur been this quiet?—says finally, looking at Merlin the same way he looked at Morgana when Uther strangled her against the back of the throne—see? It’s just something that happens here— “that’s definitely something to worry about.”

Merlin scoffs. “I’m not being abused, I’m just being treated like a servant.”

“If that’s what you think being treated like a servant means,” Gwaine says, standing, “then this conversation is going to take a lot longer than we thought.”

In response, Percival moves to stand in front of the door. Merlin sighs.

“You don’t have to block the exit, Percival, I know I’m not allowed to leave.”

A choked-off sound comes from Merlin’s left, followed by a muffled curse. Percival shakes his head.

“I’m over here to make sure no one else comes in to hurt you,” the knight says calmly, “not to make sure you don’t leave.”

“But if you want to,” Elyan says quickly, “you can.”

“No, no, I know a trap when I see one, no thank you.”

“It’s not a trap, Merlin,” Lancelot says, even as he looks to be about two seconds from crying for some reason, “if you truly wish to leave, you can. We won’t stop you.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow. “…sure.”

Arthur lowers his head. Merlin frowns, watching his shoulders tense.

“Are you alright?”

He gets his answer in the form of many unshed tears welling up in Arthur’s eyes as he raises his head.

“No, Merlin,” he says in a remarkably steady voice, “I’m not. But don’t worry about me.”

“That’s my job,” Merlin insists, striding forward, “let me help.”

Arthur catches him gently—gently?—gently by the elbows as he reaches for him, smiling sadly.

“Can I give you another way to help me?”

Merlin swallows heavily. “…what does it entail, exactly?”

“For starters, explaining why that question has you shaking in your boots.”

“I’m not—“ Merlin looks down to see Arthur’s hands are just about the only thing holding him up— “oh.”

“Sit,” Leon encourages, bringing a chair over and crouching in front of it. Around him, the knights lower themselves to the ground, with the exception of Percival, still by the door.

“Merlin,” Leon calls again, “can I ask you some questions? If you don’t want to answer any of them, that’s alright, but may I ask?”

Merlin blinks. “Sure?”

He gets a nod of thanks. “What do you understand your duties as a servant to be?”

“To help with the running of the castle and take care of Arthur’s needs.”

“Which are?”

“What—“

“Please,” Arthur says softly, “please, Merlin, I know it sounds silly, but…please?”

Well, he’s never been very good at saying no to upset Arthur. He sighs.

“Keeping his chambers clean, keeping track of his laundry, dressing him in the mornings, polishing his armor, bringing him food, escorting him to court affairs, and any other odd jobs he asks me to do.”

Leon nods. “And what about the knights? Do you have duties with us, too?”

“I’m supposed to help you train and see to your immediate needs with those, too.”

“Such as?”

“Equipment, water, food, chambers—“

“Chambers?” Lancelot frowns. “Why would you need to see to our chambers?”

“Not yours, but the visiting knights.” Merlin frowns as Arthur’s hand twitches on his elbow. “What?”

“Do they presume that you are their servant,” Leon asks in a low voice, “when you do so?”

“I am, aren’t I?” He looks to Arthur. “You assign me to them.”

“No, Merlin,” Arthur corrects gently, still looking like he’s about two seconds from crying and still taking Merlin by surprise at how soft he’s being, “I ask you to get them settled, that’s all.”

Merlin blinks. “Oh. Uh…”

“What do they ask you to do,” Leon asks, “as their servant?”

He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Uh, change their sheets, see to their armor, start a fire, bring them dinner…”

Leon raises an eyebrow when he trails off. “Anything else?”

“They, um—“

Hands. Hands on his skin. Voices in his ear.

“Merlin.” Arthur gives him a shake. “Merlin.”

“Sorry,” he says instantly, “I just…”

He trails off again when he sees the absolutely heartbroken look on Arthur’s face.

“…Arthur?”

“Why,” Arthur whispers, “why do you let them…do that?”

Merlin frowns. “It’s fine.”

“It’s most certainly not fine.”

“It is,” Merlin argues, “it’s what servants are supposed to do, anyway, and it’s better me than the others.”

Gwaine muffles a curse again, and to his surprise, so does Lancelot.

“Merlin,” Leon says, calling his attention with how hoarse he sounds, “Merlin, why is it better you than the others if there’s nothing wrong with what’s happening to you?”

Oh.

Oh, no.

Merlin’s hands start to shake.

Something in his throat wells up and pushes against his jaw. It hurts. The bruises on his back start to smart.

“Why do you care,” he says instead, “why now?”

“We didn’t know,” Leon whispers, sounding every bit the man confessing his worst sin, “and we are so, so sorry that we didn’t.”

“And if you’re asking why we care,” Lancelot says, equally heartfelt, “then we are more sorry than you could ever know.”

Merlin frowns. “But you lot do it too.”

The room freezes.

Arthur yanks his hands away from Merlin like he’s been burned. Leon stifles a noise of his own as Elyan’s mouth drops open.

“What,” Gwaine manages after a few moments, “the fuck does that mean?”

“You—you hit me, you order me around, you—“ Merlin swings his head back and forth, looking at their shell-shocked faces— “why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Because you’ve just told us we’ve been abusing you since the moment you set foot in Camelot, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, tears finally starting to roll down his cheeks.

“But you knew!” Merlin’s hands fly to his hair as he cries out. “You knew this was happening, you could see it happening and you didn’t care!”

“I’m sorry, Merlin—“

“If we knew it was like this—“

“If you think we’d ever hurt you like that—“

“No, gods no, Merlin—“

“Of course we care—“

“Merlin,” Arthur whispers, holding out a shaking hand, “Merlin, please, please believe us that we would never be okay with you being mistreated like that. Like this.”

And godsdamnit all, the amount of sheer heartbreak in the room is enough to coax a lump into Merlin’s throat and spring tears down his cheeks. Arthur lets out a wounded noise as he sees them, reaching forward to gently, still gently, wipe them away. The naked concern on not just his face, but the others’ faces as well, only encourages more.

“I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he keeps saying, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

“Arthur, I—“ He’s cut off by a gasping sob— “Arthur—“

“Shh, shh, shh,” Arthur hushes frantically, cupping Merlin’s face in both hands, “shh, shh, Merlin, it’s alright, no one’s ever going to hurt you again, I swear it—“

“You’re damn right,” he hears Gwaine mutter as the other knights agree.

“—and I’m so sorry that you thought I’d be okay with it, that I was helping—“ Arthur’s voice cracks— “no, no, you’re—you’re my Merlin—I never want to see you hurt like that—I never mean to hurt you—“

“I know,” Merlin murmurs, “I—I know you don’t.”

Arthur, gentle Arthur, pulls him into the softest hug he’s ever had, cradling him like he’s something precious, something fragile, something to be savored and oh, oh, gods—

“Easy,” he hears Leon soothe, “easy does it now, come sit—come sit with us.”

He can’t quite manage to pry himself out of Arthur’s grip as he feels the knights come closer, huddling around the two of them in a protective circle. He even hears Percival’s heavy steps coming closer, a silent guardian, keeping watch.

“I don’t—“ he gasps— “I don’t understand.”

“We’ll help you,” Arthur promises in his ear, “we’ll help you figure it out.”

“But if anyone ever,” Gwaine growls, “and I mean ever does anything like that to you again, you tell us.”

Merlin nods frantically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, Merlin,” Leon murmurs, “may I…?”

Merlin nods and Leon’s hand cards tenderly through his hair.

“Oh, Merlin,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “you came into our lives blustering about how servants were people too…and we never noticed this?”

The knight shudders and steels himself.

“We will do better.” He gives Merlin’s head one last pat. “We all will.”

“I can—“ Merlin swallows— “I can…ask for help?”

“Yes, Merlin,” Arthur promises instantly, “you can ask me for help, and if you think I’m letting another one of those knights near you ever again—“

Oh. Oh, wow.

The wave of protective fury that hits Merlin’s chest is—

Wow.

He’s still confused. Confused and more than a little scared.

But as he curls up in Arthur’s arms, held and kept with Camelot’s strongest knights curled around him too, protecting him, shielding him, he thinks he may finally start to feel safe.

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

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devotedwaywardangel1 · 4 years ago

Text

The Night Guard

Arthur Pendragon x Male!Reader

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Word count: 1747

Warnings: Near death experience, little bit angsty

A/N: Yeah been working on this one a while, doing every Merlin character x male reader since there are barely any so request/suggestions are welcome.

~~~

Arthur is walking down the hall, Merlin not far behind, ready to head in for the night. He sees you wait for him by the door making him smile. You smile at him and wait patiently for Arthur to be standing in front of you before he began talking. “Good evening sire.” You greet.

“For the last time (Y/n) you can call me Arthur.” Arthur shakes his head.

“Of course Arthur, there is a matter of which I would like to discuss.”

“Come on in then.” Arthur says as he deflates a bit.

You follow Arthur and Merlin into the room. Cracking your knuckles to relieve some of your nervous tension. Merlin was rushing around sorting Arthur out. “So… what is this matter you wish to discuss, (Y/n).”

“Yes, my sister is wedding her beloved and would like to inquire if I could spend some time with her and the rest of my family during this occasion.” You ask hopefully.

“Of course, give them my congratulations, how long are you thinking?” Arthur conceals his horror of the fact he may not see you for a few days.

“Three weeks.” You smile, excited at the opportunity to see your family for this long.

“Long time for a wedding.” Arthur blurts out.

“Well if you need me to not be…” You knew that for three weeks you were pushing it mentally kicking yourself.

“No no that’s not the problem, it’ll just be odd since I have seen you everyday for a long time.” Arthur back tracks.

“Four years.” You smile fondly.

“Already?”

“Yes, quite remarkable isn’t it, anyway I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon so I’ll be here tonight and I have found a temporary guard.”

“Okay, goodnight I’ll see you in three weeks.” Arthur nodded.

“Good Night.”

You leave the room to stand guard. While Arthur just stares at the door before Merlin nudges him and smiles knowingly. “Shut up Merlin.”

Merlin laughs putting out the candles as Arthur goes to bed.

True to your word you are gone by the afternoon, Arthur knows because he watches you leave from his window, he can’t deny that you look very appealing in civilian clothing. Enhanced by the fact it was a rare sight, unfortunately for Arthur, you were walking away from the citadel and he already misses you.

~~~

It had been a week since (Y/n) had left and everything seems to have gone into shambles. There had been a rise in assassination attempts, Arthur hasn’t slept or eaten properly and Merlin is so close to passing out in exhaustion its frightening. Arthur could not walk around the castle with one of the knights escorting him which was frustrating him further. He honestly didn’t know how they could last another two weeks without (Y/n), if anyone had known how much he did around the castle and how important he was to the functioning of the kingdom he would have never been able to leave.

~~~~

You are walking back to Camelot after a horrible feeling washed over you a couple of days after the wedding, you couldn’t get the thought out of your head so here you were walking back a week early. Many horrible thoughts rolled around your head. You’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Arthur, the very idea made you feel sick inside. It would be your fault for leaving for so long despite your better judgement. After years of stopping assassins up to fifteen times a month unnoticed by the higher ups. You walked up a hill in order to glance at Camelot from afar, and to your horror he saw the castle with charcoal smoke raging above it. Then you started to run.

~~~

Well this has been a great two weeks Arthur thought to himself while magically bound on the floor with the knights, Merlin and Guinevere. While they were struggling to escape their bounds the sorcerer sits lazily on the throne with a smug smile on their face. They were droning on about Uther and his genocide of the magical population, Arthur sitting there thinking that its getting harder to convince the council to lift the ban on magic when this happens all the time. (Y/n) would urge for diplomacy at a time like this but Arthur had never been great with words. But he figures it's worth a shot anyway. “What’s your name?”

Well that was definitely a start Arthur thought bitterly. The sorcerer narrows his eyes at him but answers anyway, “Romulus.”

“Okay, Romulus, why do you think it aids your cause by attacking us,” Arthur asks, a little too bluntly for his liking.

This angers Romulus greatly as he continues his rant about all Pendragons being tyrannical rulers.

~~~~

It only takes you half an hour to get to the citadel, but there are enemy soldiers everywhere. Getting into the castle would be the easy part but finding Arthur significantly harder. You cut off your thought process, knowing you had to actually get into the castle first. Raising any alarms could hurt anyone trapped inside. So you sneak round to the servant entrance.

Once you get into the castle the first you notice is that the people he brought with them are trained fighters and decent mercenaries by the look of it. This is not going to be easy you thought to yourself. Quietly dispatching as many as possible before anybody notices.

You take all of the servant shortcuts to avoid slipping into the great hall unnoticed and you see everyone in chains, you hear the sorcerer rant about freeing the magical people of Albion you roll your eyes. Not because he is wrong, nope you agree wholeheartedly just his methods of course you don’t blame the man though so you decide to interrupt. “Hey man.”

His head snaps to your direction. “Who are you?”

“The weirdo who stands outside the King’s door every night.”

“Oh you're the guard everyone tells me to worry about.”

“Yep.”

“You had the perfect opportunity to kill me?”

“Yeah, but talking to you seems to be a better option.”

“How would you know?”

Shit you didn’t think this through. “Well…”

“He doesn’t, let him leave.” Arthur growls.

You groan internally as a devilish smirk lights up the sorcerer’s face, “oh this is just too good to be true.” He laughs.

You gasp as you were flung into the wall and the sorcerer continued to torment Arthur swirling a sword looking ready to kill him urging you to get up and unsheath your sword to engage with him. Shocking him enough to make him stumble back a little, “Hey never got your name.”

“Why?” He snarls.

“I like to know the name of the person I’m fighting.” You swing at him.

“Romulus.” He blocks.

You both exchange furious blows, but you are the superior swordsman. You slash his arm and disarm him making him hiss and vanish. Smiling you turn to face Arthur seeing his tired smile in return sheathing your sword. “Are you ok-” you breath hitches.

You felt as though you got punched in the back so spin around to see Romulus with a bloodied dagger, you grab his wrist but it's weak so he easily breaks free and plunges the knife into your stomach . He smirks as he pulls it out and you collapse on the ground. The world around you goes fuzzy, screaming muffles, a face appears above you but you can’t make out who it is. The world turns black.

~~~

Arthur picks up (Y/n)’s body, bridal style, while ordering the other’s to sweep the castle for anyone more intruders and to aid anyone who needs it. “Merlin, Gwaine come with me, we need to get (Y/n) to Gaius.”

They got to Gaius’ chambers with very few hassles and put (Y/n) on the cot. “Please tell me he’s going to be okay.”

“Sire I’m going to need you to leave the room.”

“But-”

“Please sire.”

Gwaine pulls him out of the room to leave Gaius and Merlin to do whatever they need to do.

~~~

The first time you open your eyes you are in a dark room and there are angry whispers at the foot of the soft bed you’re resting on. You lose consciousness again.

The second time you wake up you see Arthur sitting next to you asleep. Observing him you notice tears stained cheeks and dark circles around his eyes. He looks worse than he did when you came to save him. You decide against waking him up and close your eyes again drifting off.

The third time you woke up you were alone and felt disgusting, dry throat, gunky eyes, oily hair and sweaty. Thankfully there is a cup of water beside you, so you shakily grab it and take a few sips. It was dawn from what you could tell, you groan as you try to sit up, your back feels like it has been stretched and your stomach stings. Pulling away the shirt you had on you see stitches that don’t look all that appealing, definitely going to leave a scar, you wince as you twist in an attempt to see the one on your back. Then Merlin stumbles in and gawks a moment and you open your mouth to say something but he runs out. You hear shouting and next minute Arthur is in the doorway. He strides over to you but halts suddenly like he doesn’t know what to do. You look up at him and part of yourself say go for it, then he moves eloping you in a gentle hug as if he thinks you’ll break. You couldn’t think of anything to say other than, “I’m okay, Arthur.”

“You nearly weren’t.” He whispers back.

That’s when the gravity of what happened hit you, you nearly died, the idea made your head feel fuzzy and your insides sick. You shake this off to comfort Arthur. “I know but your safe, I’m alive so all's good.”

Arthur breaks away and smiles. “(Y/n) I have a confession to make.”

You don’t dare hope. “And what would that be.”

“I might quite possibly be a little bit in love with you.” He looks so scared at this moment.

“Good cause I’m head over heels in love with you.”

Arthur laughs and kisses you gently, smiling into the kiss you lift hand up to caress his cheek. Arthur pulls away and sighs “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#bbc merlin #bbc merlin fanfiction #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #merlin #gwaine #guinevere #knights of the round table #sir gwaine #x reader #x male reader #male reader

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ursus-mari · 4 years ago

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Morgana wakes from a dream of Gwen being crowned and is deeply confused.

When Gwen comes to wake her in the morning, Morgana asks her point-blank if she likes Arthur, to which Gwen, panicked at her years long crush asking about her starcrossed boyfriend, panics and says, “No!” then backtracks and says something like, “Not that-- I’m sure he’s perfectly lovely really, if you know him, which I don’t, I didn’t mean--”

Morgana snorts and goes, “Perfectly lovely? Arthur? Hardly.”

With that option (erroneously, mind) firmly off the table in Morgana’s book, she ponders the other possibilities. Uther? Never. Morgana would kill him before he forced Gwen into anything, and Gwen would never marry him of her own free will. So it can’t be any of the current royal family, and Morgana plans to take the throne soon…

That possibility that had been niggling in the back of her mind that she’d been refusing to entertain now seems the only viable option on the table, and Morgana blushes despite herself, butterflies lighting in her stomach.

She holds off on going to Morgause until she’s sure, and in that time, every time Gwen looks at her or touches her (quite often, given the duties of a maidservant) makes her giddy, and she starts to believe it despite herself.

Hating Gwen, kind, lovely Gwen, who holds her after she wakes up screaming and brings her flowers to brighten her day, had been so hard. This is effortless, by comparison. Natural. Like breathing. And if her dream is right, Gwen will feel the same, whether she falls now or later. Morgana is positively giddy.

Gwen deserves wooing, and Morgana starts to daydream of all the ways she could make Gwen happy… flowers for sure, maybe a dress? A romantic picnic, perhaps. The possibilities are endless, and Morgana cannot wait to start putting a smile on Gwen’s face.

Morgana starts by gifting Gwen whatever she seems enamoured by at the market. This includes but is not limited to pastries, pretty bobbles, truly expensive silk, a bouquet of flowers, and way too much jewelry. Gwen is really, really flustered by this and has absolutely no idea how to handle it. She tries to tell Morgana to stop, but Morgana is like “I’m basically a princess and if I want to buy gifts for my maidservant, I’ll damn well do so.”

Morgana’s not really got any concept of subtlety or taking it slow, see.

Poor Gwen is so flustered she feels like she could explode and has absolutely no clue where this came from, which only encourages Morgana to buy more stuff because she thinks Gwen being flustered is adorable. It’s as much the way Morgana is looking at her as it is the gifts, though, warm and fond and like Gwen hangs the moon and stars, and Gwen had missed that look, and she turns into a stammering wreck.

Afterwards, once Gwen’s collected herself, she explains to Morgana that she just can’t buy her things for money reasons, for Uther reasons, the whole shebang. And Gwen doesn’t really want or need those things, she says, and she certainly doesn’t want them all at once.

So Morgana has to go back to the drawing board.

Morgana goes to Morgause like, “Hey, I know we haven’t talked in a bit but I was wondering what you knew about wooing people.”

And Morgause is like, “??? Wooing people???”

“Yea.”

“Uhhhh, find their greatest desire and use it to manipulate them? Chop off their enemy’s head and propose a strategic alliance?”

So Morgana’s like, “...Right, so you’re absolutely useless, bye,” and fucks off to go look for other, more trustworthy sources.

The problem is she trusts absolutely no one other than Morgause so this is a difficult endeavor. She asks Arthur in a bid of desperation because he’s had flings, right???

Arthur goes, “Uh. Slay monsters very impressively? Show personal growth? Offer chicken? Have Merlin do it for you?”

Which is also useless, but she should have expected that, really.

She goes to the library as a last resort and tells Geoffrey, “BRING ME A BOOK ON WOOING!” in her most intimidating voice and Geoffrey scampers off to get that but he’s like. Really slow. Morgana waits as Geoffrey rushes and yet moves as fast as molasses, getting increasingly impatient and snappish.

What she gets is mostly a book on courtly rituals, so a lot of it is useless with Gwen but damn if Morgana isn’t going to try, but it also mentions something about asking family for permission, which, no, but it reminds her to go, oh! I’ll ask her brother!

And Elyan’s mostly like how many goddamn royals are in love with my sister (within the privacy of his own head, of course), but he also tells her that Gwen likes thoughtful, heartfelt gifts and honest work (and privately resolves to tease Gwen so much when she comes home).

So Morgana’s like???? Heartfelt???? What do I do with that??? Crap, what does Gwen like? But she’d given Gwen all the things she liked at the market, so that can’t be all there is to it?? Morgana is confusion?????

Okay, honest work. So should she make a gift?

Morgana doesn’t have any crafting skills though. Fuck. Uh.

She could embroider something? She’s crap at embroidery but she knows how to do it, at least. Something small, there’s only so much embroidering she can stand. Handkerchief, maybe? And that’s like offering a favor, almost, so that’s cool.

Morgana thinks back to the market and all the fabrics Gwen had lingered on and goes for a (relatively) moderately priced one that Gwen had run her fingertips over longingly.

So Morgana utilizes her well-honed sneaking skills to go buy the fabric, then bewilders Gwen by kicking her out to work. This is not her brightest idea, as it makes Gwen feel quite hurt and renews her suspicion.

After many, many hours of pricked fingers, extensive and creative cursing, and a half dozen traumatized servants (except not because if you work under the Pendragons on a regular basis you’ve probably got balls of steel, but Morgana certainly tries her best), Morgana comes out with a crude, messy rendition of a rose embroidered onto the (...maybe a little bloodstained? Whatever. It's fine.) handkerchief.

Morgana presents it to Gwen, shy and yet utterly pleased with her work, and Gwen wavers between fond laughter and bursting into tears. In the end, she just smiles so hard her cheeks hurt and thanks Morgana, then tucks it away like something precious.

Gwen still regards it with wariness, of course, because Morgana has up to this point been extremely suspicious and possibly (definitely) evil, but it's very hard to think it might be magically dangerous when it looks like a child's work and Morgana had seemed so sincerely proud. The fear and animosity melts away in the wake of it despite Gwen's best judgement, and, she reasons, it would alert Morgana to her suspicions if she didn't use it, right? It's only logical to use it and treat it like something precious and gaze upon it fondly, right? Right.

And now Gwen has two utterly romantically incompetent people she adores with all her heart doing their best to make her happy. And that's… yeah.

This might work out after all.

(Meanwhile, Arthur finds out who Morgana wanted to woo, and the two of them turn the courting of Gwen into a competition, because of course they do, ignoring entirely that Gwen is perfectly happy to date both of them, and plans of kingdom conquering fall to the wayside, much to Morgause’s chagrin.

Merlin regards Morgana with deep, deep suspicion that she returns with interest, but Gwen won't stand for the animosity so they grudgingly make nice while glaring at each other over Gwen's head and being blatantly insincerely sweet. They forget their hostility only when they both turn on Arthur, at which point they join forces in insulting him, Arthur complains, and Gwen laughs at them all. It turns out to be remarkably hard to sustain ill will in such a comfortable atmosphere; who knew? It's like there hasn't been attempted murder on both sides!

Uther is bewildered by his children’s good moods and Morgana's renewed disdain of him, and they merrily ignore him except when he's being genocidal. When his genocidal tendencies manifest once more, as they inevitably do, Merlin and Morgana are baffled to find themselves on the same side but remain vehement in their assertions that they do something about it, and Arthur is convinced by his very passionate friends and quietly conflicted but firmly insistent girlfriend.

(Merlin and Morgana feed off of each other’s strong feelings and forget to check with Gaius and Kilgharrah and Morgause respectively. As such, they have no one to talk them down into caution and suspicion, which is on the whole for the best as they find themselves a united front.)

This whole situation cumulates into a coup. Also, magic reveals. And long, emotionally involved, serious conversations about magic and its morality and Merlin and Morgana's roles in magic shenanigans thus far. There's a decent amount of shouting, maybe a few threats, hurt all around, but they make it through, and they do it without completely destroying their relationships with each other, so that's cool.

Uther is overthrown (Morgause is very upset to have missed it), the kingdom is absolute chaos, it takes a lot for Arthur to be seen as a legitimate, trustworthy ruler, but he has his people behind him, they call the knights of the round table and knight them, and they make it work.

Work is started on the legalization of magic.

Gwen does become Arthur's queen, and Morgana relives her dream, and finds herself overwhelmingly, brilliantly happy despite having been wrong. After all, afterwards Gwen throws herself into Morgana's arms to give her an enthusiastic kiss and wipes away her happy tears with the handkerchief Morgana had gifted her all that time ago.

And so they live happily ever after (or something mushy like that).)

#bbc merlin #morgwen #mine #mari writes stuff #you cheer me up #this is absolutely and unabashedly silly #and wish fulfillment to a factor of like eleventy billion #i can't figure out how to insert breaks from my phone so sorry ab that #girl of my dreams

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sweeethinny · 4 years ago

Text

Where’s Harry and Ginny?

Inspired by this wonderful fanart of the amazing @blvnk-art

AO3

WARNING SMUT

They weren't having much time, Harry was working hard on Auror's training and Ginny was training even more, they came home very tired and barely had the strength to leave.

Harry was still living with George and Ron, which gave him even less time with Ginny - taking his friends' sister to fuck against the bedroom door while she shouted his name was not very interesting. And Molly really didn't like the idea of him being locked in a room with his youngest daughter, so they liked it when there was a time like that, when the family was very distracted and his perfect girlfriend pulled him into a empety room

''I missed you'' She moaned in the middle of the kiss, jumping from the bathroom sink and pulling him between her legs

"Me too" He could barely think of anything but Ginny naked. Her plaid blouse started to become an obstacle, depriving him of seeing those absurdly beautiful breasts that made him dream at night like a teenager in puberty. Ginny ripped the shirt off his pants, ripping the buttons furiously and scraping the nail on his skin. ''Always so impatient'' He kissed and sucked her neck, lightly marking her fair skin before opening her blouse

''My fingers can't take it anymore to pretend it's you'' Harry let out something like a snarl, squeezing his fingers on the woman's ass and pulling her forward, making her brush his erection

''Every day there is more reason for us to live together'' He unbuttoned her tight jeans, groaning when he finally saw her free and naked legs, those red panties being a piece of paradise for him.

''You look so pretty in red''

''I know you like it, that's why I wore it today '' Ginny took off his belt and also found it on the zipper of Harry pants, releasing him from the grip too

"Did you already plan to take me to fuck in the bathroom?" He bit her skin, taking off her plaid shirt and squeezing her breasts over her bra, feeling ready to come in pants

'' Actually, I thought we were going to your house, but you're so impatient '' She mimicked his accusatory tone, but soon groaned when felt his fingers digging into her panties, massaging her sensitive clitoris and needing attention. Harry’s attention

'' Two weeks is a long time, I can't take it anymore '' Ginny pressed her nails against his shoulder blades, causing a groan of pain and satisfaction. '' You are so wet, Merlin ''

"Harry ..." She gasped, throwing her head back and moaning loudly, thanking for sitting at the sink, otherwise she would have fallen right there

'' Mm?“ He worked his fingers well on it, feeling slippery and warm, so inviting that it was almost a crime not to have time to feel it more often.

''Fuck me soon'' Her brown eyes seemed to catch fire, her pupils large and bright, making her look like a predator seeing her prey. Harry was not intimidated, thrusting two fingers and moaning when she squeezed them inside "Aaaahh"

'' I wanted to take you to the house .. No, I want to have our home, because I won't have to worry about silencing spells '' he murmured against her neck, using his free hand to unbutton her bra -yes, he's already could do this with one hand. '' You are so loud ''

Ginny wanted to be able to say how sexy it was to hear him say about their house, but she was sunk in a lust that only went up, every time her boyfriend's fingers dipped in more and more, hitting the G spot and making her scream and see stars , feeling even a little sore with desire.

'' Fuck '' Ginny moaned louder, her boyfriend's hot lips sucking on her breast, scraping his teeth as fondly as she liked, before putting pressure on lips. She had the strength to get one hand into Harry's underwear, listening to him moan when she started to stroke his cock over the fabric. How she missed that. '' We have to be quick ... Ahhhh ... fuck me, Harry. Please''

The man felt the balls tighten, then he pulled his hand away from his girlfriend's delicious pussy and looked at her, a mess of hair, sweat and flushed skin.

'' You look so beautiful begging '' He kissed her in love, taking off his underwear and letting huddle on his ankles with the pants, Ginny's warm hand masturbated him a little, making him lose consciousness when her thumb passed over the head of the dick. She bit his bottom lip, pulling him close again.

Generally, Harry was a calm and affectionate guy, he liked to play with his girlfriend, to turn her head and stay in that state where she begged and whimpered, but it had been two weeks since he had seen her, and he felt so close to cum that it was shameful.

When he finally slid inside her, they both moaned into each other's mouths, Ginny's nails sunk into the skin of his firm, broad shoulders, Harry's hands getting lost between squeezing her ass and her breasts.

''Ginnnnn ... aaaaaaah '' She did what made him yearn for desire, contracting against him and forcing him to go faster and faster, the noise of lunch in the garden falling behind when the typical sound of bodies hitting was higher.

Harry slid easily, sweat running down his back and chest, the redhead in front of his looking like a divine work, her breasts jumping with every movement and her freckles getting lost in the red that descended from her cheeks, making her look even more beautiful.

''I can't take much '' He admitted with embarrassment, holding her hair so they could look at each other, the other hand disappearing at their meeting place

"Neither do I." She kissed him, sucking on his tongue and pushing herself along with his movements, squeezing him even further inside, almost making it painful. '' AHHHHH '' Ginny threw her head back, her ankles pushing her boyfriend's ass to bury himself even further ''Don't you dare stop''

Not even if he was a suicidal nut.

It didn't take long for Harry to feel her contracting, biting her lips and looking at him deep in the eyes, holding the hair that fell on his forehead as if to prove that he was there, that it wasn't a dream. For her defense, Harry felt the same

''Come for me Ginny '' He asked feeling the breath in his lungs, his finger that circled her clitoris getting faster as he knew she liked it, trying to keep an eye open when he felt her come, also freeing himself, getting with wobbly legs

''Harry ... aaaah, I missed you '' The redhead laid her head on the curve of his neck, kissing the skin and still moaning, feeling too sensitive to be able to look at him without coming again.

''Me too'' He said hugging her, sticking one last time while his balls relaxed, seeming to thank him for not being his fist this time ''I was serious about living together''

He was the one who spoke first, after what seemed like hours and hours in silence, hearts still beating loudly in they chest and body trembling

''Oh Harry, don't make me horny again, I think I'm capable of passing out'' He looked worriedly at the redhead who had her eyes closed on her shoulder, her hair clinging to her forehead and the redness still present

"Did I hurt you?" She looked at him, smiling weakly and looking tired

'Oh, no babe, you never really hurt me .. But about living together .. ''

'' If you don't want it all right yet, but-''

'' Harry, why do I feel like you've seen somewhere? '' The boyfriend blushed, so handsome he didn't even look the same as he was fucking her a few minutes ago

''A guy from the Ministry talked about an apartment '' He coughed awkwardly '' I just looked around, you know? '' Ginny felt her heart sink with joy, and maybe she was able to get wet again. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him

"Ah Harry, I love you so much" He laughed against his mouth "And I want to live with you"

---------

'' Have you seen Ginny and Harry?'' Ron asked, looking around and not seeing either of them around.

''They seemed to be fighting when I saw them'' Angelina shrugged, her head lying on George's shoulder

''Ah, I'm sure they are fighting'' He commented laughing pervertedly '’I saw the way Harry was stressed out in the last few weeks''

"I hope it's okay," Molly said, oblivious to the son who held a laugh

''Ginny must have fixed the situation'' Arthur said nonchalantly ''She always does'' George burst out laughing.

"Yes, Dad, Ginny always does"

#hinny #hinnyheadcanon #hinnysmut #my fic #harry x ginny #ginny weasley #hp #hp fanfic #hp couples #Harry Potter #smut #hp fanart

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

TLTNL- THE WOES OF MRS. WEASLEY

Lily had to demand the book from Sirius as he was still scrutinizing Dumbledore's departure like that, and he handed it over reluctantly. Before she could get started he said, "can we please take a break, just a quick thirty minutes to do something other than this mess. I really don't want to get started with something all over again already." Harry looked just as exhausted as him and eagerly agreed, and the moment everyone agreed he at once demanded of his Godfather if he could hear some more fun stories of the Marauder's pranks at school. Sirius easily roped James into that conversation and Remus would never resist breaking in as well. Lily watched them peacefully go through several stories, her favorites usually the ones on each other, but the longer they kept going the harder it was to keep leaving one person out. They'd spent seven years as a foursome after all, and it was getting more obvious by the moment they couldn't blot him out of all their adventures.

Still it had been worth it when finally all of their laughter subsided and they all looked almost normal and peaceful again while Lily got herself started.

Dumbledore's abrupt departure took Harry completely by surprise. He remained sitting where he was in the chained chair, struggling with his feelings of shock and relief.

Harry was all the more happy for the little break he'd just had, it gave him some distance so he wasn't as hurt by that as he was at the time, and he did feel a bit better when he watched those around him either frown or scowl at this rather rude dismissal. Sure it wouldn't do for Dumbledore to show favoritism to Harry in that moment, but even a quick word goodbye would have been better than nothing.

The Wizengamot were all getting to their feet preparing to leave. Harry stood too and nobody seemed to be paying him the slightest bit of attention, except the toad like witch on Fudge's right, who was now gazing down at him instead of Dumbledore.

Harry felt that nasty, prickling feeling returning at once at her mentioning, and he wished he understood why. Surely she had nothing to do with his life.

He turned to leave, hesitated in case someone called him back, but when no one did he began a very fast walk to the door.

"Escape while you can before they throw something else at you," Remus sighed in agreement.

He reached the door practically at a run, then nearly collided with Arthur who was pale and looking even more apprehensive than when Harry had gone in as he asked what had happened, Dumbledore hadn't said.

Remus tried for a more open expression in regards to saying, "well if he didn't even say anything to Arthur then I'm positive it really was a matter of something else other than this place he had to attend to."

"Yeah, I guess," Harry agreed, feeling only the smallest margin better it hadn't just been him who'd been dismissed like that.

Harry explained his current circumstances as cleared of all charges, and Arthur's face broke into a wide grin of how good that news was. Of course there was nothing to convict, he hadn't been guilty, but nobody could pretend- he broke himself off,

"Honestly that's for the best, he can't have gone anywhere pleasant from there," James shook his head fondly, regretting not having done something similar to his son when he seemed so pleased at Arthur's reaction, but now it would just look silly when the moment had passed.

because the courtroom was pouring out behind Harry now, and Arthur was gaping in shock he'd been tried by the full court.

"Can't wait for him to pass that along," Lily huffed, "I'm hoping it'll drop Fudge's credibility even more."

One or two gave Arthur a nod as they passed, such as Madam Bones who even greeted him with a good morning, but most ignored his existence as thoroughly as the wall like Fudge. The toad like witch,

"Are you going to keep referring to her like that?" Sirius snickered, honestly amused at what he considered a running insult from Harry after he'd gotten her name.

"Yes," Harry said back flatly, causing his smirk to disappear at once as they all scrutinized Harry's look. What had this woman done to him to cause such bad feelings when she hadn't actually done a thing yet? He was acting more hostile towards her than Fudge.

took one last moment to watch him as she passed by. Last to leave was Percy.

Lily winced at even the idea of having to read out such a harsh reaction she expected a parent to have around their own child, yet Arthur utterly deserved whatever was said to Percy, it still left a bitter taste in her mouth before she even knew what was to be done.

Aside from the tightening lines around his mouth, Arthur turned away with no notice he'd just seen his third child.

Lily groaned and shook her head miserably, there was no way that could have been good, but did the boys really have to look so hateful while she said it. She supposed it was better than the lashing argument she'd just pictured herself.

He waited until Percy had vanished before beckoning Harry that he could go back and tell the others the good news now, Arthur still had to see to that toilet in Bethnal Green.

"Was honestly hoping you'd go along," Sirius gave a believable smile to that.

"I'm sure I can give you details later when he tells that night," Harry chuckled at the enthusiasm.

Harry asked what was going to be done to the toilet with a grin, everything seemed five times funnier than normal to him.

"That's usually how it works," Remus smiled in full agreement as the feeling poured back over him he hadn't felt in a few years now but he honestly missed, this must be ten times more powerful to something so strong as what Harry had just gone through.

It was starting to sink in: he was cleared, he was going back to Hogwarts.

"Knew it all along," James gave a pompous smile. "Course all you had to do was look at this books length, or Merlin we could have even skipped ahead."

"Oh, now you suggest that," Harry chuckled.

Arthur began explaining the charm used was a simple enough fix, no the real problem was the vandalism itself and what it stood for. Muggle-baiting was an expression of a much deeper- he stopped himself in mid sentence.

"That always seems to happen during the important conversations," Lily sighed as she'd completely agreed with what Arthur was saying.

They'd reached back to the main landing where the lift and door were, to see Fudge speaking to a tall, blond figure with a pale face.

Harry extra despised that cold feeling of dread wrapping around him, forcing him to relive a memory he'd already regained just because of the sight of this man. Though he hadn't seen his face, the last time Lucius Malfoy had been in his presence was in that graveyard, groveling to Voldemort-

His recurring nightmare was interrupted by his dad whispering hatefully, "unless he's in handcuffs, I hope Arthur has the sense to keep you away from him."

"Considering the last time his name was mentioned in relation to Fudge, I wouldn't hold your breath mate," Sirius could already feel his lip curling into a sneer.

The second they'd arrived, the other two broke off whatever they were speaking of as well, Malfoy's cold grey eyes fixing Harry with a stare as he called to him Patronus Potter.

"I see where the young Malfoy gets his wit from," Remus rolled his eyes at the lame insult.

Harry felt winded, as the last time he'd been in the presence of this man was in the graveyard, listening to that voice jeer at him through a Death Eater's hood for Voldemort to continue torturing him.

James could feel himself going for his wand again, now regretting his angry actions this morning just because he wanted to be back beside his son now. It only helped ease his hand away but worsen his mood when Sirius gave Harry a soft nudge and muttered something to him, and he blinked around before smiling at him.

Too see him here, talking to Fudge just weeks after Harry had told Fudge this left Harry breathless.

Mr. Malfoy continued by saying the Minister had just been informing him of Potter's lucky escape.

"The fact that you call him mister," Sirius scoffed while trailing more silently in mutters about that.

It was astonishing really, how he kept wriggling out of tight holes, almost snakelike.

"Well he'd know all about that," Remus snapped, "glory, I think that was almost a compliment."

"Then I'm all the more insulted," Harry groused.

Mr. Weasley gripped Harry's shoulder in warning.

"I'm sure Arthur needs that just as much to hold himself back," Lily's lip was shaking with anger as she forced herself not to start cursing something. "I still treasure the idea of him hitting that man with a book on toadstools."

"You and me both love," James agreed.

Harry quietly agreed he'd always been good at escaping.

Sirius gave a soft, bitter laugh that he couldn't feel, but Harry deserved someone to admire his humor in the face of that.

Malfoy turned his attention to Arthur now, asking in astonishment what he was doing here?

"Escorting a friend, not that he'd understand what that meant," Remus muttered, not having missed the fact that the two people who should have been there for Harry were busy hiding out.

Mr. Weasley gave the curt reply that he worked here.

Malfoy raised a disbelieving brow as he demanded not here, he'd been under the impression his job implied bewitching useless Muggle artifacts.

"I really didn't think there was a bad way to say that, but Malfoy really managed it," Sirius huffed.

Arthur just said a simple no, his nails now digging into Harry's shoulder.

Even as Lily winced in sympathy Harry's face didn't even do that for the remembered feeling, he was too busy glaring at nothing and wishing he could punch Malfoy in his face already.

Harry demanded of Malfoy what he was doing here, and Malfoy stated that was none of Potter's business while smoothing out his robes.

Harry was distracted from his anger at Malfoy to really ponder that question though, since for some reason he couldn't identify he didn't like the answer given. Why? It wasn't even unrealistic, but something about that corridor and Malfoy was trying to be much louder in his mind than he would allow it.

Harry distinctly heard the gentle clinking of what sounded like a full pocket of gold.

"Subtle," James snorted in disgust.

Fudge still pointed out this should be taken somewhere more private, and the two swept off for the lift, Mr. Weasley not letting go of him until they were out of sight.

"Again, I feel that's more for his benefit than Harry's," Sirius sneered, knowing he'd have to have someone hold him back as well when faced with that man.

Harry demanded why Malfoy hadn't just been waiting in Fudge's office if they had business. What was he doing down here?

Lily froze, cocked her head to the side, and stated, "that's a really good question."

"I, err, well maybe he was meeting up with some other Death Eater that works at the Ministry," Sirius offered. "Arthur said it himself, that's not a commonly frequented area, and I don't think Malfoy probably hadn't known the times were changed, so maybe he just got caught being down there and made, something up," he trailed off unhappily, but Harry was watching with wide, eager eyes for him to keep going. Harry was entirely sure Sirius was very close to being onto something, but none of the others looked very convinced as this was very blatant and almost dumb for Malfoy to be trying to do such a thing.

Mr. Weasley suggested trying to sneak into the courtroom,

Harry fidgeted with unease, as sure that Mr. Weasley was lying as he was that Sirius was far more on track. The two just would not come together for him to make sense of.

looking extremely agitated and glancing over his shoulder as though making sure they could not be overheard.

Harry opened and closed his mouth, starting to shake slightly as word vomit threatened to blow his head off as he was confident in that moment Arthur was looking back for an entirely different reason! To check on-

"Whoa Harry," James finally lost his compulsion so that he was sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Harry. "What's gotten into you? The trial's over, you're going back to school, I'm confident Malfoy won't do anything in the meantime."

Harry had to concentrate very hard on the sound of his voice to unscrew his face and take a deep breath before offering a shaky smile at him, and even that wasn't enough to erase the build of unease that left him sitting that much closer to Sirius.

James, finding himself more intruding than anything when he saw that, went back to his spot and tried to pretend like he hadn't seen any such thing.

Harry asked what private business they had that was so important anyways, and Arthur explained gold. Malfoy kept himself well connected with everyone by constantly donating to whomever he pleased.

Lily would have normally been trying to subtly comfort her husband for what had just happened, but she was too busy grinding her teeth in frustration that was all it took to get in with people, money. Apparently morals weren't worth as much!

They got into the elevator by themselves, and it took Harry a few stops to ask if Fudge was seeing Death Eaters in private, what if he was under the Imperius Curse?

"Honestly if you hadn't had that moment with him at the end of last year, I'd agree," Remus grumbled. "Sadly, as no one at that time had the chance to Imperius him before he acted the way he is, I think he's just an idiot all on his own."

"Jr. could have done it before he took me to his office," Harry persisted even if he didn't feel anything telling him this was the right line of questioning, he should in fact still be more focused on that door-

"I don't see it, he was too busy watching you, it just didn't seem part of the plan," Lily shook her head. Harry was at least grateful he'd asked then just to make sure that train of thought kept getting cut off.

"How do you even prevent a Minister from falling under that though?" He pushed for more, some distant part of him still afraid for this fact.

"The Minister works in very close contact with a lot of people," Remus reminded. "Why do you think Crouch got 'sick' while he was Imperiused, there's just no way to have someone fake it for a long enough period of time it wouldn't get suspicious and someone would look into him, start asking questions. Sorry Harry," he finished truly apologetically, "I guess it would be easier to blame someone else on this problem with magic, but that doesn't usually work."

Harry just sighed but let the matter go.

Arthur agreed the thought had crossed their mind, but for now Dumbledore was sure that Fudge was acting of his own accord, which the headmaster also agrees, isn't much comfort.

Sirius snorted lightly as he realized Remus and Dumbledore had essentially said the same thing, but he didn't really want to compare Moony to Dumbledore right now.

Then adding on more quietly it was best not talk about this right now.

"That's true to," James agreed, "you are in enemy territory."

As they made it to the atrium and were fixing to leave, Harry paused at the golden statue again, and asked Mr. Weasley to wait for him as he reached for his money bag.

Lily felt the happy giggle slide from her with what felt like the first true ease in this book. Something as whimsical as her son keeping this promise was a treasure to her.

Harry got a much more close up look at the designs now, and found that the handsome wizard looked weak and foolish up close. All of the others admiring expressions upon seeing this man were entirely ridiculous from what Harry knew of centaurs and goblins. The only accurate one was the house-elf.

"I'm glad you see the truth in that thing," James happily agreed.

"I honestly think that's why that attempted assassination on Spout-Hole happened," Remus smirked, then catching sight of Harry's bewildered look he explained, "a group of centaurs tried to kill a past Minister, Faris Spavin, and I've no doubts it really had something to do with the timeframe this statue was put up."

Harry didn't have it in him to deny someone deserved a good reality check for thinking up this statue.

With a grin at the thought of what Hermione would say if she could see the statue of the elf,

Harry felt a nasty tug on the edges of his memory, thinking he was now being ridiculous that Hermione and him at the Ministry at the same time shouldn't cause any bad feelings...

as he turned his moneybag upside-down and emptied not just ten Galleons, but the whole contents into the pool.

Lily let out a whistle in surprise, as she knew she kept a few galleons on her, but no one could do anything but smile at Harry for this spot of kindness.

Harry in no way regretted his actions of course, but he was thinking hard to himself why that felt so ominous to him, that statue and also that hospital...

Ron punched the air in triumph as he screamed he knew it!

"So I'm guessing you're back at that place." Sirius hadn't been in a particularly good mood while hearing of Harry at the Ministry, but this was honestly only making him feel worse.

As a natural reaction but also hoping it would cheer him up, Remus gave a sarcastic little applause for Sirius' brilliant thinking, while Lily was ignoring them both.

He always got away with stuff!

"Well he's not wrong," Remus snickered while Sirius released a bark of laughter for that being true.

Hermione was still shaking from anxiety as she told him this was bound to happen, there hadn't been a case against him.

Harry smiled around at them all that they seemed quite relieved considering how convinced they all were he'd get off.

"That's right Harry," James nodded in pure agreement, "mock them for trying to comfort you to your face."

"So long as they were silently worrying while you weren't watching," Sirius giggled in agreement.

Mrs. Weasley was wiping her face with relief as well, while Fred, George, and Ginny were doing a war like dance, chant around the room about how 'he got off!'

Sirius didn't even consider denying his spark as he got to his feet, James moving only a step behind him as the two began bouncing around their own room doing the exact same thing. Remus only watched long enough to see the pattern the two quickly took to before joining with a stupid grin in place as well.

Harry was about ready to fall off the couch laughing any second and Lily in no way looked like she was going to be stopping them any time soon. They all, especially James, had been so tense lately that it was good to see him acting like an idiot goofing off with his friends again. Finally though, she did pick the book back up and kept going over their noise.

Arthur tried without emphasis to get them to stop while turning to Sirius and telling him about Lucius Malfoy hanging around the Ministry. All the while in the background the three were going as loud as ever while Mrs. Weasley cut in for them to be quiet.

Lily read that part just a bit more loudly, hoping they'd take a hint soon even if she couldn't wipe the smile off her face while doing so, but the lot of them ignored her.

Arthur just explained what they'd briefly seen, and as soon as Sirius promised they'd pass this along to Dumbledore, Arthur said he had to get going. There was a vomiting toilet waiting for him.

"A once in a lifetime experience I'm sure," Harry snickered to himself, his eyes still dancing as he watched the three of them still mimicking his past with amusement.

Mrs. Weasley finally cut off her three noisy children in a sharp voice,

Lily had said that in such a sharp 'mother' voice, that Sirius stumbled in surprise, Remus tried to catch him, and the end results were all three on the ground still laughing like crazy people. Lily was still going as if this was all perfectly normal background to her reading, which it honestly was.

then she turned on Harry and insisted he eat something.

His friends sat down around him as Harry felt the warmth and friendliness of this place for the first time. Even Kreacher's ugly snout like nose poking around the corner seemed friendlier than usual.

Harry's good mood could find no reason to dampen in here either, as for what felt like the first time in ages he was confident that house should always feel like that to him. It was so nice to watch the boys untangling themselves and still smirking at their spot of fun and his mother's purely happy smile he almost wanted to ask her to stop just for a moment so it wouldn't end, but he'd sadly already come to the conclusion time stopped for no one, not even someone out of time.

Ron was dishing food onto everyone's plates.

"That's how I love to celebrate," James snickered as he settled back into his seat next to his wife.

Harry explained Dumbledore was the man to be grateful to, only just managing to stop himself adding it would have been nice if he'd just looked at him once, but that sounded too childish.

"I don't find that childish at all," Sirius pushed his hair out of his face just in time for a frown to reappear there as he thought back to Dumbledore again. "He really was acting off right there, couldn't be bothered to look at you once that whole time. That's most certainly not normal."

Harry wished that nasty tingling sensation would vanish already instead of agreeing with Sirius.

As he thought this, the scar on his forehead burned so badly that he clapped his hand to it.

Lily jolted in surprise of reading that, knowing if she hadn't just cut the boys off seconds ago that would have as they all paled for this being mentioned again while Harry's smile flickered before vanishing entirely as he was reminded of that.

Sirius was entirely ready to get up and start the jig up all over again before he realized Harry was trying to sit so close to him, and decided for now the best course of action was just to remind his pup everything would turn out okay by staying right where he was.

Hermione looked at him in concern, but he just muttered it was nothing and that it happened all the time now. No one else had noticed a thing, they were still gloating over Harry's newest escape.

Sirius' frown was starting to make a reappearance as well, feeling like smacking himself upside the head if he really hadn't noticed Harry's moment of pain. What exactly had he been doing not to have seen that?

Remus was thinking the exact same thing, and was honestly even more annoyed with himself he didn't even seem to be in the room. What business had he done that was so important he wouldn't have stuck around the house to hear this news as soon as possible?

Fred, George, and Ginny were still singing, but while Hermione was still looking anxious Ron was saying Dumbledore would probably make an appearance tonight to celebrate with them.

"I sure hope he does," James hated watching his two friends suddenly dim right back down into that somber mood this whole book seemed to be leaving on all of them after just a few moments and vented that by saying, "the man needs a few good words said to him by both Harry and Sirius now."

"Here's hoping," Lily agreed quietly.

Mrs. Weasley corrected her son that most likely not, while setting a whole plate of chicken in front of Harry,

"Did she expect you to eat all that?" Sirius did a very good attempt at putting up a smile back in place.

Harry helped nothing by not answering, still seeming distracted by running his hand over his scar which seemed to be bothering him more this year than any before.

but was cut off by saying anything else by her three kids reaching shouting levels of their chant, which she matched in telling them to shut up.

Over the next few days though, Harry noticed one person in particular didn't seem overjoyed at Harry's return to school.

"Kreacher ruins everybody's good mood," Sirius agreed solemnly.

Sirius had at first congratulated him upon the news like everyone else, but directly after he was hardly seen around Harry or anyone, spending most any moment shut in his mother's room with Buckbeak.

"Oh," Lily uttered by the end as they all looked like they'd been hit in the gut. "Oh Sirius," Lily tried to start, not even sure herself what was going to come out, but Sirius snapped back at once with his eyes flat black.

"Don't you even Evans-"

"Potter," James corrected on instinct, though he too looked ready to say something, Sirius continued even louder-

"Potter then, the both of you." He sat there struggling for a moment to put into words that he didn't want to hear their sympathies on his sad state of a future if he even for a moment was acting like that towards Harry, but at the same time the words just wouldn't come as he could all to easily picture it. The only thing that had gotten him through his summers there were waiting on the letters from his friends, and he no longer even had that in that miserable place. Now he was looking at even more of that away from Harry, and even Remus it seemed as he'd been mentioned there all of three times instead of up Sirius' butt like he'd have hoped his friend would be to keep his mind off where he was.

He was almost grateful he didn't have the chance to say any of that as Remus cut in with an almost gentle scolding, "haven't we been over this. There's no point tearing into him when he isn't treating Harry that way now, he's never going there, so this won't ever happen."

Lily still felt like she should say something to him, either a promise she didn't blame him even if he was secretly wanting that or to offer up some suggestions of how to make this even a bit better, but Sirius was clearly relieved at avoiding this all together so she kept going in hopes the whole topic would pass quickly and they could just be with Harry in school again where hopefully nothing too eventful would happen.

James didn't entirely agree, he was a bit convinced there was something else going on with his best mate entirely and so avoiding Harry was just a byproduct of that, but he supposed his Sirius wouldn't know what anyways and kept his mouth shut, for now.

When Harry pointed this out to his friends one day while the three were cleaning out a cupboard, Hermione's first words were to sternly tell him not to go feeling guilty, Sirius was being selfish if he thought Harry should not be going back to school.

"Hey!" James snapped at once, his eyes flashing with such protection Harry was suddenly grateful his wish had never come true and Hermione wasn't here with them, she'd be getting an ear full from his dad.

He couldn't even think up a defense for her, he'd have liked to snap at her right now as well for speaking of his godfather like that while he was talking about his problems, a little sympathy wouldn't have hurt for as much as she showed towards Kreacher.

Remus was flushed in anger as well, he was almost glad of his absence now as he liked to think if he had been present for that he'd have snapped at Hermione for speaking about Sirius like that. He was many things, yes even selfish at times, but not for such an important matter as Harry continuing going to school.

Lily's lip seemed to be curling a bit in that sneer she so often got when speaking about Snape lately. Hermione had always been a vivacious child when she was speaking of what she thought, but while Lily encouraged and even admired that about her, now she was turning what she thought were her ideas on her friend, and she did not read this bit lightly.

Ron scolded her that was harsh, pointing out she wouldn't want to be shut in this house all alone either.

Sirius blinked sourly at the stupid book, still wishing more than anything he could find something in him to deny that claim...and coming up empty.

Hermione reminded he wouldn't be alone, this was Headquarters, he'd have company over all the time.

"Being around the Order all the time holds nothing to being around family," James hissed under his breath. His most daunting missions he'd ever taken were the extended ones away from his own, even when he did have a partner. That person, while a mutual friend, still couldn't replace who he really wanted to see.

He'd just gotten his hopes up Harry was coming here permanently.

Harry corrected Sirius had never agreed Harry could stay here with him.

"It only would have made you feel like the answer was inevitable," Sirius told Harry quietly, who nodded in agreement, he hadn't really held that against Sirius. He'd never thought Sirius would turn him down, but it was nice to still get a reason.

Hermione wisely said he just hadn't wanted to get his own hopes up all the more.

"Not my choice of words," Lily huffed, "more like pompously."

"She'll be the next Percy if she keeps telling people how they should be feeling," Remus agreed, thinking back to how she'd been acting in third year as well.

He was probably feeling his own guilt, hoping Harry would lose, so that they could both be outcasts.

Harry hadn't felt this angry at Hermione since she'd gotten his firebolt taken away, and this was so much worse than that. Sirius was on the run for the murder of his brother because of a long standing friend who'd left him framed and for dead, while Harry was about to be kicked out of school! They weren't comparable problems, and Sirius would never think to insinuate otherwise!

Harry shot back she was being ridiculous, but Hermione shrugged without remorse as she said she believed Ron's mum might be right, and Sirius seemed to get Harry and his own father confused.

Sirius felt like he'd been slapped. He certainly felt the hot burn rushing his throat and threatening to overflow onto his face through his eyes as he found that was proof of what Molly had said earlier. If even Hermione had caught him doing or saying something-

"That arrogant little shit!" James howled, looking as angry as when Sirius had been sent off to Azkaban without a trial. "He's been living in hell for how many years now, and she goes turning any sign of him wanting to reminisce to Harry about me into him being a loon! For Merlin's sake, he's done nothing but try to do everything for Harry since he got out, has everyone just forgotten that!"

"Prongs." The soft little voice was the only thing that could have cut him off, and James had to work hard to focus on him through blurry red vision to see such a resigned expression.

He wasn't having that as he hissed back, "I'm getting sick and tired of hearing people talk about you like this, when none of them can claim to know you worth a damn. Why am I the only one getting hacked off about this?" He finished more towards Remus than anyone.

"You're not," he said at once in short, clipped sentences to keep his own anger held in, "but you were doing such a good job vocalizing I'd be remiss to cut you off or even add in."

"Stop, please," Sirius cut in with more force before any return could be made. He faltered a bit, knowing he'd catch hell in here if he told them the real reason he couldn't work up the steam over this was because he honestly feared how true it was, so instead he put out, "I just, can't get worked up over thinking of myself in any sense in that future, so I'd rather, you know, not think about it anymore than I can." He finished in a tiny voice, clearly not doing as good a job as he'd intended in keeping his real thoughts out of his tones as James's face suddenly flipped to concern, but Lily seemed to understand best of all as she respected his wishes and wouldn't let anyone say another word as she kept going.

Harry was getting angry as he demanded if she thought his godfather was touched in the head?

Hermione denied that claim, but did say he'd been lonely for a very long time in a simple voice.

Remus had to work very hard not to spit out, 'so that's a sign of insanity now?!' When in all honesty that was the most true thing Hermione had ever said, and no one, clearly not him, seemed to be going out of their way to help Sirius anymore than keeping him at arms distance from the one person who could have made that more bearable.

Mrs. Weasley came in then, asking if they were finished cleaning this cupboard they'd been working on this whole time.

"That's gratitude for you," Sirius muttered just for something new to say and still not looking at anyone.

Ron said bitterly he'd been hoping she'd come to give them a break.

She reminded they'd been so keen on helping the Order, they were doing just that by making this place livable.

Lily gave a hollow laugh as the phrase, 'be careful what you wish for,' flitted across her mind.

Ron grumbled they'd been working like house-elves in here, while Molly just turned to leave.

Hermione rather liked the idea though, saying maybe now he'd take a real interest in SPEW.

Lily had to work very hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice Hermione so easily flipped subjects like that. As if talking about Sirius were inconsequential and instead she could make them hear more about house-elves, again. Those boys clearly cared nothing for her thinking on this, and this one just never seemed to take a hint. They were all in such a bad mood, none of them even had the fun to point out Hermione had just referred to her own organization by Ron's stupid name.

Then she added to herself this could bring more awareness to all Gryffindor's if she sponsored a common room cleanup, all proceeds going to the campaign of course.

"More like she'd have to pay them to be doing any such thing," Sirius sighed as he still couldn't find a smile in himself to put up. It wasn't helping no one, not even Harry, was playing along.

Ron muttered he'd sponsor her to shut up about SPEW, but so only Harry could hear.

Sirius gave an obnoxiously loud laugh for himself just having mimicked Ron, at least making Remus roll his eyes again, something Sirius was confident he'd never grow tired of.

Harry found himself daydreaming about Hogwarts more and more as the end of the holidays approached; he could not wait to see Hagrid again,

Harry had some sad little frown on his face he didn't seem aware of at the mention of that,

to play Quidditch,

and no one noticed him wince slightly as without fail, the other boys managed some small enthusiasm for that word alone.

and to simply stroll across the vast lawns. He was always sure to talk about this when Sirius wasn't in the room.

Sirius wished a Bludger would come knock him stupid already just so he didn't have to see Harry look shameful at that!

The fact was that living at the Headquarters of the anti-Voldemort movement was not nearly as interesting or exciting as Harry would have expected before he'd experienced it.

James ran his hand furiously through his hair as he realized what Hermione had said clearly wasn't going to come back up so he could keep going, and he wasn't even sure if he could have anyways after his brothers pitiful little attempts to deflect him from it. That didn't make his simmering anger feel any better, but he managed a mask that at least resembled his joking tone as he told Harry, "nothing ever is."

Harry had to push through his mind to force himself back into this conversation before he simply responded, "Quidditch," and was thankful a second mentioning of it only left another dull sadness in him he didn't have to examine.

"Okay, most things," he conceded.

Members did still frequently come and go, but Mrs. Weasley always made sure all ears, extendable or not, were no where in the area. No one, not even Sirius, had done a thing to give Harry more information since his first night there.

Harry gave an exaggerated groan and a playful nudge to his godfather that went completely ignored.

On the last day of term, the book lists finally came in.

"Oh wow," Lily blinked in surprise and almost relief at this new topic. "I thought that was just glossed over like last year, hadn't realized you hadn't even gotten them yet."

"What are they playing at sending that the day before school starts," Remus agreed in surprise. "Can you imagine how packed Flourish and Blotts is going to be, everyone trying to get that last book for their Defense class. At least the others the parents could have gotten already."

"You do bring up the fun question of who it's going to be this year," Sirius was really trying to put some enthusiasm into chatting about this, but Harry very clearly did not agree as he pleaded his mother to cut him off and go on, they'd get their answer soon enough, and he already had a bad feeling about it.

Harry was standing on a chair cleaning up some owl droppings from on top of their wardrobe as Ron passed Harry his. He chucked the waste into a basket that swallowed the lot with a belch and accepted his letter.

"One of the few good features in that house," Sirius chuckled, "my favorite part being, it spits whatever you threw in there right back up a few minutes later. Great for saying you cleaned your room so you can scarper and then blame the mess on someone later."

"I can't imagine how someone would find a use for that," Lily told him deadpan.

He opened his letter and found only two new books, the Standard new charms book, and Defensive Magical Theory by Wilbert Slinkhard.

"That sounds extraordinarily boring," Sirius snorted, forcing himself to get into this now despite Harry's lack of enthusiasm. "Are you sure you can't come back Moony? At least you wouldn't be caught dead assigning anything that has such a title you'd use it for a pillow."

Remus gave an exaggerated eye roll for what he felt was a stupid question, while James sighed and forced himself to add in as well even if he'd prefer to hold onto his anger some more. "You know, it never even mentioned what book you did assign," with a curious look at Harry.

"We only ever studied out of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them," Harry shrugged, "he didn't assign any other specific books. I was grateful, as the only other thing I'd used it for before then was just to look up some creature I heard an older student mention and I didn't know." He finished himself off with a curious look though before adding on, "how come that's a first year book anyways? Care of Magical Creatures isn't even mandatory."

"It's intended for individual studies," Lily told, "so that you have a basic understanding of magical creatures on hand even if you don't take the class. By making it part of your first school list, someone likes to think that you've cracked it open at some point."

Harry gave a sheepish smile for that, as the only real time he'd ever done much of anything with that book was a few things for Professor Lupin out of it. He'd managed to accidentally rip out a few chapters at some point he'd never bothered repairing, like his section on boggarts for instance, and at the end of his fourth year him and Ron had skimmed through the whole thing by themselves on one of their off periods in one of their silent 'don't want to talk right now' agreements on Harry's part.*

With a now familiar crack, the twins had Apparated themselves into the room. Harry was so used to this, he didn't even fall from his chair.

Sirius really did laugh that time, though he'd yet to fail when mention of them making an appearance so he was at least happy for that consistency.

The two examined the boys lists and found they'd all gotten the same book, all wondering who the person was to assign this new book. George reminding Dumbledore was having a hard time of finding any new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

"Did it really take them the day before term to pull that together?" Lily asked with honest concern.

"I knew it must be getting harder all the time to get someone in, but this is just getting sad," James agreed with a very pointed look someone was very pointedly ignoring.

Fred said it must be a chore, considering what they knew happened to the most recent ones.

Harry agreed one had been sacked,

"Sacked?" Remus repeated with a snicker. "Really, that's all the reference I get?"

"Besides, he technically quit," Sirius reminded, giving him the stank eye for the reminder as he finished, "with protest."

Remus ignored the jab.

one dead,

"Deserved it," Lily muttered bitterly.

one's memory removed,

"Still my favorite," Remus savored.

and one locked in a trunk for nine months.

James shuddered all over again in renewed horror of that.

Harry agreed it was easy to not want the post.

"You'd think the job was cursed or something, oh wait," Sirius smirked.

"I wonder what happened to the twins teachers before those came along," Remus puzzled.

"Guess something far more boring," James shrugged.

Fred looked around at his youngest brother and asked why he hadn't spoken up, but Ron made no move he'd heard, he was still gaping down at his letter with his mouth hanging open.

"What's got his knickers in a twist?" Remus asked too enthusiastically, anything to get back off that job he honestly wished he'd never taken, it's not like he'd done much good at it that no other competent person could have.

When he got no answer, his brother snatched the letter away to see for himself, and his own mouth fell open as he mouthed the word Prefect.

"You said perfect, right?" James was staring at her oddly. "What's perfect?"

"You heard exactly what she said Prongs," Sirius corrected, his eyes growing steadily wider as the shock sunk in. "Prefect! Oh wow, go Ron!"

Remus was snickering lightly while Lily was shaking her head fondly at these boys, thinking this was most likely similar to how they'd reacted upon Remus' Prefect status as well. A little humor, some congratulations and then trying to move on by looking at her like, 'get on with it.' Clearly they didn't put much of a big deal into the matter, which made sense considering how often they went through their life ignoring any and all resemblance of authority.

Neither twin could believe this, it must have been a mistake!

"Now that was just hurtful," Lily couldn't stop her twitching lips as she tried to read in Fred's mocking tone, perhaps not doing it as well as the boys, but still almost hitting that playful way she imagined them using.

They turned to look at Harry and insisted everyone thought it would be him, looking at Harry like he'd tricked them himself.

"Harry would never do such a thing!" James gasped in mock outrage. "He's going to be far too busy avoiding Ron the rest of the year to join him!"

"You were a Headboy though," Harry suddenly blinked as he realized this. "Do you not need to be a Prefect to get that?"

"Nah," Sirius rolled his eyes, "I honestly have no idea how they pick them, I feel like they just pull a random name out of the Sorting Hat, it makes more sense than going with any 'qualifications,' which neither of them had to be holding any such title."

"Thank you Padfoot," Remus snorted.

George did remind his brother all the mad things Harry had done must have left him out of it. Fred readily agreed, saying Harry had his priorities right and kept himself in trouble enough for this not to have been his.

"I must applaud them on seeing this in the proper lighting, someone I know never did see it that same way," Sirius said tragically while Remus hadn't stopped laughing this whole time for how much of a flashback he was getting to his friends ribbing on him through the whole, very long, train ride when he'd told them. It had been almost a relief to attend his Prefect duties first, at least they'd had enough time to laugh it off with each other so by the time he came back they'd almost been ready to ignore the whole instance.

George's next thought was to realize how revolting their mother was going to be when she heard about this.

Some of Lily's humor did fade at that, while the boys just laughed harder, though a bit harsher in remembrance of Molly especially so fresh after Hermione's pot-shots. She however was thinking the twins could show just a bit more of both praising and picking on their brother at once, hadn't they learned after they'd dealt with Percy sometimes words could hurt after all those years. They were making the same mistake with their younger brother as they had been with their elder one in treating him like this just because he'd gotten an accomplishment he'd had no real control over. They didn't necessarily have to approve of it, but couldn't they at least not take the mickey out of him for it.

Ron, still with his mouth hanging open, handed the badge to Harry as if in confirmation it was real. Harry gave it a brief examination to see the exact same one he'd seen on Percy's the first time they'd met..

"Which he wore for the next two years straight as well," Harry muttered in remembered disgust, managing to ignore the old conundrum he'd always had at school of having twenty-two Prefects at once running around, plus the Head Boy and Girl, not to mention all the teachers always seeming to keep an eye on all things. It really did boggle his mind how the Marauders got away with anything like that, though it must have helped in fact to have a man on the inside.

The door opened with a bang, and Hermione came in squealing with delight about how she'd gotten- then she spotted what Harry was holding and shrieked that they were both Prefects now!

"Wow, both of his friends got it!" James's tone came out much harsher now as he was still waiting for an apology from her as well as Molly to Sirius' face. "I'm thinking she'll do worse than Ron, she'll be too busy with all her studies to deal with Prefect duties. Least he'll enjoy the attention it gets him from some of the younger students."

"So long as he doesn't let it go to his head," Sirius said a little uneasily, still remembering last year and how Ron got because he thought he wasn't recognized enough. Now the opposite problem could occur.

Harry quickly corrected while pushing it back to his friend this was Ron's.

Hermione at first didn't understand,

"That timing though," Remus muttered at how awkward this could get.

before she turned surprised on him to ask if he was sure?

"Ouch," Sirius winced hard for that one. "Yes he's sure woman, the schools never sent someone the wrong envelope before." He got out quickly before anyone could make a more snide comment about her.

Ron's expression turned defiant as he stated that was his name on the school's letter.

Hermione continued to stand there bewildered for a moment,

"Wow, she came skipping in when she thought it was Harry's but now it's Ron's and she's actually at a loss for words, for once," James huffed.

before finally beginning to congratulate him. This was really-

George input for her unexpected.

Hermione tried to say that wasn't true, Ron had...

the door opened again for Mrs. Weasley carrying clothes, cutting off Hermione's trailing words.

"Saved by the Mum," Sirius looked a bit relieved, that couldn't have been going any more awkwardly.

She wasn't surprised by everyone holding the envelopes, Ginny had already told her letters were in. If they passed them all to her, she'd go into Diagon Alley today and fetch it all for them. Then she turned on Ron and asked if he'd like a new color for the pajamas she was going to get him, the ones he had now were far too short.

"Why does she bother asking? I thought she always gave him maroon just to color coordinate her kids by this point," James snarked, clearly his mood getting worse now that both people of his ire were in the same room, and hardly even reacting when Lily pinched him to get him to stop.

George said for his brother he should have red and gold to match his badge, while Molly rolling up a pair of maroon socks didn't understand what he meant.

James gave Lily a pointed look which she ignored.

Fred emphasized Ron's new prefect badge, his every tone conveying the worst news.

It took a moment for the words to get past her preoccupation with pajamas.

Sirius got a happy snort of laughter for that sentence existence, after all pajamas were a very fascinating conversation topic.

She turned in confusion Ron wasn't a -

"He is as of five seconds ago," Lily giggled.

Then she spotted the badge in Ron's hand, and squealed with delight! Saying how wonderful and perfect this was, that was everyone in the family!

"Hey!" All three Marauders yelped indignantly on behalf of the twins, Sirius persisting the point, "what happened to the other two that are in the room?"

Lily nibbled on her lip for a moment before continuing, feeling just as bad for the twins as she would have if Ron hadn't gotten this reaction. Ginny hadn't even made the status yet, so she really wasn't sure if that was the right thing for Molly to say there.

James wanted to ask if that meant even Charlie had been one, but he honestly wasn't sure if this should be counted as Molly had just brushed aside two of her kids, she might have done it for three in that moment.

George demanded what he and his twin were, neighbors, while Molly brushed past him and threw her arms over Ron, seeming not to have heard him.

"Wow," James rubbed at his shoulder with his own hurt filled eyes. "I'm not even a Weasley and that hurt my soul."

"You'd be just as snarky if she tried to play it off and not single out one of her children for doing something so good," Lily sighed, hating having to deal with her husband when he was in his petty moods, which seemed to be happening more often than not of late.

She kept going on about how proud she was, and his father and brothers would be to! All while Fred and George pantomimed vomiting.

"He'll be lucky if they don't do far worse to him," Remus muttered, knowing the twins, like his friends, might just take this as a new challenge to prank their little brother and see how well they could get away with it. They'd yet to clearly be doing things to Ron at school, but he wouldn't put it past them for this to be a start.

Mrs. Weasley did not notice as she held eyes only for her youngest son, continuing to kiss his face, who was quickly growing as scarlet as his new badge.

"That woman has no shame, the boys in front of his friends," James grumbled.

"Howler," Lily reminded, clearly Molly held absolutely nothing of the world outside her circle.

He finally managed to stop her stream, only for her to continue by asking what he'd like.

Ron at first couldn't dare to understand, as she exclaimed he had to have a reward for this!

Lily crooned, just a bit, as she truly did see the value in doing this for her kids that had done such an accomplishment. It certainly made sense, even if she felt for the twins as one of them would have always been left out of this tradition. There really was just no winning with this.

She at first offered some new dress robes, before the twins reminded they'd done that one, clearly regretting their moment of generosity.

"It was part of Harry's doing, so I forgive their moment of kindness." James rolled his eyes.

"You know, I just realized, Ron and Hermione weren't there when you did that," Sirius pointed out just to change the subject. "Did you ever tell them what you did for the twins?"

"No," Harry shrugged, the thought had never crossed his mind. "I suppose they just told Ron they did it so they wouldn't have the humiliation of seeing him in them again. They were so awful Ron just believed them on the spot."

She at once switched to some other things he could want, like a cauldron, or a new rat, he had always favored Scabbers-

Lily winced hard at getting out the name of that old thing which effectively managed to turn every person in here into a gargoyle like face.

but Ron cut her off instead asking for a broom.

Her enthusiasm faded a bit, broomsticks were very expensive.

"Go big or go home," Remus winced as he easily saw both sides to what both parties were feeling in that moment.

Ron quickly tacked on not the newest model, just a new one for a change...

Her smile was right back as she agreed of course. Then she left the room in high spirits, saying she really had to get going now if she had all this shopping plus that.

They were all surprised she'd so easily agreed to this, but then the boys were suddenly bouncing in place with pleasure as they were begging Lily to get to the part where they hoped to find what exact model Molly would get!

Still muttering happily to herself how she was all a dither.

Lily was giggling herself by the end of that, looking lovingly at her son for a moment and knowing she'd be just as bad if he had been made one. She did a double take in surprise as she saw how off his face looked, like he was really thinking about something, but she supposed it may still be mention of that rat like the lingering darkness in the boys still showed so she didn't press him.

The twins hardly waited until she was out of sight before turning falsely anxious looks on him, asking if it was alright they didn't kiss him as well?

George at least offered they could curtsey.

"That I would like to see," James snickered.

Ron just told them to shut up, while Fred gave an evil grin and asked what if they didn't? Was their baby brother going to put them in detention?

"No, no," Sirius corrected at once, a look of intrigue now dominant. "That is what I want to see! Hermione tried it last year, now I really want to know who would win, the twins or Ron. With Harry as backup of course," he finished with a smirk at his godson who did not show a hint of listening.

"My money's on Harry and Ron," Remus kept going, clearly not noticing the same thing. "The twins owe Harry big, if he asks them to take a dive and fall into detention, they just might for him."

"I don't think it'll ever come to that," James rolled his eyes. "I can't think of a moment where Ron cares enough to go at them that hard, he's hardly a ruler himself when it comes to school boundaries."

Hermione snapped he just might if they didn't watch themselves.

"I feel like that's more her part than his," James sniffed, there she went again, speaking for everyone.

The twins burst out laughing while Ron told Hermione to drop it.

They kept going as if Ron hadn't spoken, Fred speaking to his brother about how they'd better watch their step this year, George agreeing he was shaking in his boots at the thought. The two concluding their rule breaking days were over.

Then they vanished with a loud crack.

"They're off to a great start," Remus snorted.

Hermione shot a nasty look at the ceiling where laughter could still be heard from them as she told Ron not to pay them any mind, they were just jealous.

"I don't think jealous is the right word," James grinned, "but I'd think something was entirely wrong with them if they didn't have some fun with Ron about this. Then again, I'd think Hermione wasn't acting like herself if she didn't say what others are thinking as well," he finished with a huff.

Ron disagreed, they'd always said anyone who was a prefect was a prat.

"Am I the only one remembering Bill?" Lily chuckled, thinking he hadn't sounded one bit like a prat.

He cheered himself up though that at least he was getting a new broom out of it, and then decided to himself he'd like a Cleansweep model.

"Not a bad model at all to choose from," Sirius snapped away from watching Harry curiously, who hadn't pipped up in ages now, and still wasn't showing much interest in this, which meant he must really be thinking of something in his head.

"You think he'll put it to any good use?" James said wistfully as he remembered a large portion of his agitation last year. "There's a spot open on the Quidditch team with Wood gone, and assuming Anglina or one of the other Chasers might have graduated, that could mean some new potential on the field."

Harry did blink a bit at this news and looked around curiously to find them still talking about Ron just getting the broom, so he smiled happily and forced himself to engage in his own hopes that this would happen with a distant smile the whole time before Lily cut off the Quidditch talk for her own sanity.

He jogged out of the room to go tell his mum this, while Harry was left alone with Hermione, whom he didn't feel like looking at all of a sudden.

"Least I'm not the only one holding a grudge," James grumbled to himself, half wishing Harry had said more to his friend in defense of his godfather earlier, but he'd long accepted Harry was not the confrontational type much.

Hermione began to say something tentatively, but he cut her off with a hearty congratulations he didn't really seem to feel.

"Oh," they all muttered, looking to him in surprise and quickly away again as Harry's eyes widened with panic, realizing what he'd just been thinking about all this, and how that most likely was fixing to end up in this stupid book!

She began again, asking if she could borrow Hedwig, to send an owl to her parents and tell them about this.

He agreed at once, keeping his back to her as she took his owl from he room, and he sat down by himself on the bed, his mind spinning. The only noise left was the waste basket spitting the owl droppings back up.

Sirius opened his mouth to repeat his joke, but in fact performed a small miracle by instead taking James's small little head shake as warning and closing it again.

He had forgotten prefect badges were on the way, far to anxious with his upcoming trial.

"A daunting enough fear, you're forgiven," Remus muttered under his breath, as they all now realized they were hearing exactly what Harry had just been thinking without having shared. No one had really missed how silent and speculative he'd just gotten, but they'd left him alone with his head for a moment since it clearly had nothing to do with poking at his memories. Now, well this just felt a bit invasive as shame began burning up his face. They were all starting to feel more than just pity for him, it really couldn't be fun for him not to have had a single private moment while he was here.

Lily suddenly stopped altogether and began running her thumb down the length of the page, and the moment Harry realized what she was doing, he took a deep breath and told her, "don't bother skipping, I guess you lot may as well hear it."

"We don't have to," James said at once to no one disagreeing. "Honestly, it doesn't even occur to me half the time, but really Harry, you can tell us to shut it at any time for hearing every single thing you think."

He took another deep breath, but looking more accepting than defeating now, insisted, "you've heard far worse than my being jealous for a moment by now, may as well get through it."

Lily waited a moment longer to realize he truly meant it, before going on.

But if he had remembered, what would he have expected? A small little voice in his head pointed out, not this.

James went to say something, but Lily gave him a small kick to get him to stop, she was trying to get through this as fast as she could. Up to this point the books, while centered around him, hadn't exactly delved into his head quite as much as this moment, and she was at least going to try and stop her boys commenting on his private thoughts no matter her opinion on them.

Harry buried his face in his fingers as he couldn't deny that, wondering now if he really thought himself arrogant like Malfoy.

Sirius didn't take the hint as he rolled his eyes and said, "not even close. Thinking you should have gotten something doesn't automatically make you a self-entitled little berk. It's how you act when you do or don't get it. You aren't going to treat Ron any differently now that he has it, so you're fine pup," he finished with utter confidence, at least making Harry smile again.

Did he really believe he was better than Ron? No, was his own instant rebuttal. Still Harry anxiously probed himself to admit he was better at Quidditch, but that was the only thing, they were equal in class. Outside of lessons though, both Ron and Hermione had risked worse than expulsion with him on those adventures.

"The fact that you refer to those as adventures, rather than life or death moments that you really shouldn't have been in except for extraordinary circumstances, really gets me in this moment," Lily muttered.

Not at the very end though, Harry had always done those alone. Especially in that graveyard...

"Thank you for detailing all of that," Remus shivered, though they all had at some particular moment Harry had brought up.

All those bitter feelings over the summer swelled in him again, how he'd done far more than them!

Lily had to fight her own insistence now not to say anything in comfort for her son. He was having a human moment after all, but she restrained herself from pointing out again badges weren't chosen because of things you'd done. Honestly no student had a clear idea who was chosen and why, it was simply the Headmaster's decision, and he really could be picking at random or for any arbitrary reason.

The small little voice was back, pointing out badges weren't necessarily chosen because of dangerous situations you'd lived through.

"I really love the way you worded that though," James gave a bit of a laugh.

Harry buried his face again to remember Fred's words about no one would make Ron a prefect, and Harry snorted with disgust at himself.

"That was a bit harsh," Sirius gave Harry a sympathetic pat he still didn't really feel like he deserved. "I'll bet a ton of other kids are having far worse reactions than just a bit of jealousy for their friends getting something. Imagine how Malfoy's going to act when he didn't get one and Ron did," he finished triumphantly. That did make Harry laugh again, albeit a bit more held back than he understood why.

Ron hadn't asked for this, nor was it his fault. Harry was not going to sit around sulking, nor mocking his friend behind his back for this, just because Harry had been beaten at something.

"The thought never even crossed our mind," James rolled his eyes, causing Harry to flush anew as he realized just how well those around him seemed to know him in these few short days, and it didn't really seem it was just because of a bunch of books.

Harry could hear footsteps on the stairs again and immediately put a much more welcoming smile in place as Ron reentered, telling his best friend congratulations. The smile disappeared from Ron's face instead.

"Well geez, clearly he didn't want to be congratulated," Remus frowned in surprise.

Ron at once said his own surprise, he'd thought it would be Harry.

"Everyone thought it would be Harry, even Harry," Sirius mocked, pleased Harry stuck his tongue out at him for the picking like normal again.

Harry echoed Fred from earlier, saying he'd caused to many problems to get picked.

Ron agreed with a laugh while beginning to pack up his things. He seemed to be having a bit of a problem though, as he kept moving the badge around. First to his pocket, then the nightstand, and then putting it onto his schools robes and gazing for a moment at the red on black.

"He's acting better than I was," Remus smirked in remembrance, "I hid it in with my knickers until we were all on the train and it was moving before I managed to spit out the words. Which I regretted, since it only then occurred to me they could pitch me out of a moving train."

"The thought occurred to me," Sirius agreed, "but only because you actually dropped a pair of those on my head while getting the badge out to show us."

Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk.

"I wonder if we'll get a return on the badge pranks," James said curiously.

"I'm having trouble picturing it," Remus shrugged. "Despite their jokes already, I can't see them having at Ron every opportunity like they had Percy, mostly because I don't see him dogging the twins to deserve it."

"I wish I could be following the twins around," Sirius sighed wistfully. Remus grimaced at his own choice of words, never admitting to his dying breath he'd done it on purpose to keep the good mood alive.

Mrs. Weasley came back from Diagon Alley and was at once pounced upon by her youngest son, but she scolded even while handing him his new broom she'd have dinner ready in no time and now wasn't the time for him to be using that.

He still ripped the wrapping off the moment she was out of sight.

"A proper response," James giggled in agreement.

When they did make their way downstairs, it was to find a large banner already in place congratulating Ron and Hermione on being the new prefects, while Mrs. Weasley was looking in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday.

"That is so sad," Lily murmured to herself, really thinking back to how she'd acted towards Sirius now, and seeing the strained mother protecting her family as opposed to this side where she saw Sirius as her family and Molly the threat. It was hard to keep both perspectives in line at once, but she tried her best to shake off the last of her ill will towards the woman, even if she did maintain Sirius hadn't deserved what was thrown at him.

She explained to them they'd be having more of a party tonight, she'd invited everyone along. Some of the guests were already there in fact, as she made her way over to Moody and told him she'd been wanting to ask for ages if he could take a peek inside the desk in the drawing room to see what was in there. They were sure it was a boggart, but just in case it was something worse.

Moody agreed at once, turning his magical eye in that direction while repeating her instructions, and agreed yes they were right on the creature inside.

"I'd actually like to watch that," Remus said eagerly like he'd just been invited to his own show. "See what Moody's Boggart would be before he dispelled it."

Harry agreed, honestly hoping that was exactly what had happened. Why would he be getting such a bad feeling from such a silly little thing like a boggart, those hadn't frightened him in ages.

Molly insisted she'd do it later, for now he should be enjoy himself down here, pointing out this was a party while gesturing at the banner.

"Really? I wouldn't have thought he'd notice," James rolled his eyes.

Moody turned his normal eye on Ron now, his magical one remaining out the side of his head, and Harry got the eerie feeling it was on him as he moved towards Sirius and Lupin.

"Glad we can be of some help, even if it is just to protect you from scary Alastor," Sirius fixed a smile in place, Harry really starting to feel bad both continued to twitch uneasily whenever they were mentioned.

He could still hear though, as Moody congratulated Ron for this new authority, saying Dumbledore must not be worried about him withstanding jinxes.

"Well he's not wrong," Remus blinked in surprise at such advice while James and Sirius got a chuckle out of that.

Ron looked unsure how to take this news, but was saved answering by the arrival of his father and eldest brother, who'd also brought along Mundungus.

"Why?" Lily balked at the idea.

"Suppose they ran into him for any number of reasons, and I can guess Arthur was just too polite to not invite him," James shrugged.

He was wearing a long overcoat that was oddly lumpy and declined the offer to remove it.

"Because that's not suspicious at all," Sirius said with chipper.

Tonks was telling Hermione and Ginny that she'd never had the honor of being prefect, her Head of House said she lacked certain qualities.

"The fact that she asked for a reason really makes me question her sanity," Remus smirked.

"I remember asking McGonagall who possessed her to make Remus one," James reminded, "she just told me to move along."

"What house was she in?" Sirius suddenly demanded curiously, thinking it would be interesting if she'd been yet another Slytherin.

"Hufflepuff," Harry informed, she'd mentioned Sprout as her head of house to Hermione at some previous time.

Sirius smiled all the wider his little cousin had broken even more traditions instead.

Ginny asked what that could be, and Tonks happily said the ability to behave herself.

Causing everyone to burst out laughing.

Ginny laughed, while Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it.

James scoffed heavily, even more annoyed than usual at Hermione's inability to laugh at anything, even a harmless joke!

Ginny turned and asked Sirius next.

Sirius pretended to faint at the very thought.

He gave a bark-like laughter and said no one would have been insane enough to do a thing like that, he was in detention with James too much. It was Lupin who was the good boy and got the honor.

"Good boy?" Remus asked of him, poking him slightly as he was still theatrically slumped over. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said about me."

"Wasn't saying it to your face, but to others, and you know I always covered for you," he told while still miming unconsciousness causing the others to just laugh harder.

Lupin jumped in saying he was under the impression Dumbledore had done it to try and exert some control over his friends.

"If that's what he was going for, he began with a lost cause," Remus said in surprise, as the idea had yet to even occur to him that's what it had been for.

"Wonder what made you think that," James agreed, "we all thought it was Dumbledore's subtle way of rewarding our winning personalities and keeping the school's spirits up."

"You lot and your fat heads," Lily muttered.

He'd failed dismally.

Harry suddenly found himself in an even better mood, his father hadn't been a prefect either!

"Best hope neither of them pass along my Head Boy badge then," James muttered for Lily alone, who agreed. It was apparently a good thing he'd forgotten Hagrid mentioning this right now.

Ron was rhapsodizing about his new broom to anybody who would listen.

"Honestly, his mother's lucky he was just talking about it rather than trying to be on it in the house," Sirius chuckled.

While Hermione was chatting with Lupin about elf rights.

"I'd rather go back to hearing about the broom," Remus muttered, everyone else looking just as disappointed except Lily, who hushed them so she could see a conversation she'd actually been looking forward to. If anyone could get through to Hermione how she was acting regarding house-elves, she'd put money on Remus.

She was saying how the segregation on them was the same as werewolves, stemming back to how wizards thought they were superior to other creatures...

"That's all we get," Lily pouted as she saw the next line changed topics.

"I wasn't really listening to them," Harry said apologetically.

Molly and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair, the mother even asking of Harry that wasn't it too long.

Harry was alarmed at being asked,

"Boys," Lily muttered.

and quickly slid away to where Fred and George and Mundungus were in the corner.

"Now we're tuning into the important conversations," Sirius' grin turned eager to hear about this.

When Mundungus saw him coming he stopped talking at once, but Fred quickly said Harry was good to hear this, he was their financial backer.

"That's an excellent term for that," James brightened, before turning a calculating look onto his friend and saying, "hey Moony-"

"Don't even start you," he shot back without looking over, so James put a pin in the idea for later.

Fred eagerly held out what was in their hands, Harry finding tiny shriveled up black pods that were making a rattling noise though they were still.

None of them considered themselves Herbology experts, the closest one was Lily who could recognize a wide variety of plants for her potions, but they were all curious to hear what the twins had gotten their hands on now.

George explained they were Venomous Tentacula seeds, but since they were a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance, it was really hard to get them outside of people like their friend here.

"What on earth would they need those for?" Lily yipped in concern, thinking they could get themselves killed by just one little accident.

"Well they'll certainly get sick enough by them," James said uneasily, hoping for more details as well.

Fred offered ten Galleons for them, but Mundungus corrected he wouldn't take less than twenty with all the trouble these tings had caused him.

George gave a heavy laugh, saying that was a worse deal than the time he'd tried to sell them a bag of Knarl quills for six Sickles.

"Now I know he's been off his rocker," James shook his head in disbelief at that one.

Harry warned someone could be watching, like Moody's magical eye.

"Really should count our blessings he isn't around more I guess," Sirius chuckled.

All three agreed it was best to wrap this up, and then they all departed, only Harry staying in the corner as he watched Mrs. Weasley with a sudden fear. He'd never informed her or anyone he'd given the twins his Triwizard Winnings to start their joke shop, and it suddenly occurred to him what if their mother, who greatly disapproved of this idea, had a row with her kids about it. What if it caused another Percy-like estrangement? Would she still care about Harry in the same way if she knew he was helping them along with something she found so unsuitable.

Lily had already tried to instill into her son how unlikely she found that, and while Harry was looking anxious again at the returning topic, he'd yet to really start working himself up over it so they let him be on this one for now.

He was dragged out of his own thinking by hearing Kingsley say he'd been sure Dumbledore would make Potter a prefect, while Lupin returned he was sure the man had his reasons for doing otherwise.

"I don't think you were too enamored with Hermione's house-elf topic if you're already hanging around someone else," Sirius said, easily slipping into another topic to take that look off of Harry.

"He always thinks Dumbledore has his reasons," Lily muttered to herself.

Kingsley persisted it would have shown the world he had confidence in Potter though-

"Or it could have done worse, and made Dumbledore really seem he was playing favoritism with Harry," Remus shook his head. "Nah, best to not let you have this one honestly." Giving the others a moment of odd amusement as they were sure that's what Remus would have said back to Kingsley at the time.

"Not like I ever really wanted it," Harry shrugged in agreement, the idea had never crossed his mind until it was gone.

Harry did not look around, not wanting them to know he'd overheard.

"If they didn't want you hearing," James rolled his eyes at this idea, "they wouldn't have had the conversation with you in the room.

Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.

Both Lily and James were leaning into each other just that little bit closer than was strictly necessary, just for that moment to remind each other they were here now instead of a constant source of some painful memory for Harry. The cheer of knowing that little bit more about his father had been tarnished by his now fear of what the woman he looked to as a mother could think about him. There was just no winning.

He heard Molly yawning and telling her husband she was going to take care of that Boggart and turn in, telling Harry goodnight as she passed.

"Why did she only say goodnight to you," Sirius quickly pointed out just to give Harry some moment of singularity in Molly's eyes which he had clearly been wanting a moment ago, but now he looked all the more distracted and distant as he was clearly trying to ignore some bad feeling.

He got caught by Mad-Eye next pulling him to the side and saying he wanted to show him something.

"Well this should be interesting," Remus said, Moody singling Harry out could be, fun...

It turned out to be a photo, original Order of the Phoenix according to Moody.

"Wow, don't think we've had this picture taken yet," Sirius blinked in surprise.

"I'm surprised Moody has such a thing, you'd think it would be considered a security risk," Lily agreed. "Even we're not entirely sure who everyone in the Order is."

"Guess Dumbledore may have asked for one at some point, and no one turns him down," James muttered without much enthusiasm, as he'd already been keeping a mental list of all the people he'd heard of dying already. He was entirely sure he didn't want to hear much more about this.

He'd found it the other night since Podmore hadn't returned his Invisibility Cloak and he'd been looking for his spare, and he'd decided to bring this picture along to share. He began pointing people out, like himself, whose nose was still intact at the time.

Harry had already once seen Moody before his face was really a mess, but even seeing it again a photo right next to the real thing could be a shock for his mind.

Then Dumbledore, Dedalus Diggle, Marlene McKinnon, while he added in she was found two weeks after this was taken dead with her whole family.

Lily paled to a ghastly white color and couldn't seem to keep going for a moment, just concentrating instead on that warm spot her husband provided while Sirius tried wildly to point out, "well, now we have a time frame! Dumbledore asks for a group shot, we put Marlene on extra watch!" He said this too loudly, but it gave Lily enough of a reminder this hadn't happened yet to another person she knew, she could still be saved.

Then there was Frank and Alice Longbottom, whom Harry could have picked out all on his own as the woman he was seeing so resembled his dorm mate Neville.

Sirius ran his hand through his hair bitterly as he remembered the details of that being recounted, of who all had been involved. He was now more than jokingly considering asking Lily to please skip this part already, it didn't feel worth it to hear how their friends were soon going to turn out.

Moody adding for himself better dead than what happened to them, then flipping to Emmeline Vance, Lupin, Benjy Fenwick, they'd only ever found bits of him.

James retched and couldn't help but recoil from her for just a moment.

As well as Edgar Bones, late brother of Amelia, she was the last of her line now because they'd gotten his family, Sturgis Podmore, Caradoc Dearborn, he'd vanished six months after this and nobody ever found a body, Hagrid, Elphias Doge, though Moody had forgotten he used to wear that dumb hat.

Remus had to blink slowly, but he couldn't quite erase his blurry vision even as he tried to picture Doge without his hat considering he wore it all the time. This was by far the easiest thing to be comparing in these time frames though, so he forced himself to linger on this rather than having to keep listening to these wretched details.

Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they died like heroes,

Harry tried desperately to think of some way to erase those haggard looks from their faces, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind, "so the Weasley's aren't in the Order now?" Figuring Molly and her husband would be mentioned next to her brother.

"Oh, err, no they're not. I think they were offered, but both declined. I really don't know much about them honestly, only met them once through Gideon," Lily murmured.

Next was Aberforth, Dumbledore's brother,

"Wow, what?" James had to snap himself back into paying actual attention to what Lily was saying just in time to hear that, and he frowned at her in confusion. "So I guess Dumbledore does have a brother that's in the Order."

"Wonder what he gets up to," Sirius agreed with honest curiosity, thinking this group meeting might be worth it just to meet this man of such a famous wizard. He was suddenly sure this Aberforth had all sorts of amusing, blackmail, stories about a younger Dumbledore.

Harry could feel a bead of sweat beginning to form on the back of his neck with mentions to this, of Dumbledore and his sibling, or more than one...

that was the only time Moody had met him, strange man. Then there was Dorcas Meadowes, she'd been killed by Voldemort personally,

This group had never even heard that name, and it was a kind distraction just for a second to try and theorize how they could go to Dumbledore and warn this woman as well without gaining suspicion of how they'd know such a thing.

Sirius, when his hair was still short,

Sirius brushed his hand through his now shoulder length hair curiously, wondering just how long it was in Harry's time.

and the last three on the list hit Harry the hardest of all, his smiling parents, along with Peter Pettigrew.

Lily's voice hitched, and then failed her all together at that coming up twice in this chapter now. The hurt was always sitting there in the back of her mind, waiting to pounce even without someone explicitly bringing it up, now she really could feel a traitorous tear slipping through before she brushed it furiously away and kept going entirely too loud, but it was all she could do, otherwise she'd break down. She couldn't even bare to glance at her boys again or she'd lose herself entirely.

Harry could think of nothing to say, and looked to Moody who had the expression he'd just given Harry a treat. Harry at once tried to retreat out of here, and was saved an excuse by Sirius calling over what Moody had there, giving Harry the chance to slip away as Moody turned to answer.

Sirius ran a shaking hand down his face, but the words failed of him trying to say he'd been looking out for his pup, perhaps seen something of Moody talking to him bothering him, it was just hard to pretend he was thinking of anything except removing a spine from a spineless creature.

He didn't know why it had been such a shock, he'd seen pictures of his parents before, after all, and he'd met Wormtail.

Remus could still feel the permanent mark those encounters had left on them all.

It was mostly just having them sprung on him like that, and he began to grow angry as he thought no one would appreciate that! He kept thinking of all those, left timeliness in the picture, so many dead...Moody may have found that interesting, but Harry found it disturbing.

"Glad we're not the only ones," James whispered for himself, but Harry heard anyways and they met eyes just for a moment in silent understanding.

He went silently back towards his room, but stopped curiously outside the drawing room as he heard sobbing.

Lily shifted uncomfortably, she was still reading in a too strained and tight voice, and if she was forced to deal with anymore bad news she'd likely toss the book away and turns into James chest any moment just to be done with her feelings for a change. Who else could be having a breakdown now? It was her burning desire to try and help anyone out if they were in pain that managed to help push her own away so she could find out.

Harry pushed the door open curiously, and found in the center of the room, a dead Ron.

Sirius really almost did faint in surprise as scenarios began flipping through his head, of Death Eater's storming in and catching Ron off guard while he'd snuck upstairs to check on his broom, of the poor kid being attacked by something in that house they hadn't managed to exterminate yet, his falling down those stairs and someone coming across his body-

Harry gasped wildly and lunged forward to snatch the book away from her. He'd just had to relive the sharp experience of his parents being out of his life all over again, he couldn't stand losing someone else!

"Harry breath," Remus reminded coolly, even if his face was still a bit too pale from what he'd just heard from Moody and the honest shock of that scenario ever being a thing. "There was a boggart in this room, remember. Molly wandered off to go get rid of it, I think you just walked in on some bad timing."

Lily got the book back from her son while he was still wavering with understanding this, and quickly kept going even more loudly than before, every last bit of her hoping beyond all hope that was really what was going on!

Harry stumbled in fear, his brain flooding with ice this couldn't be real!

Then the sobbing continued, and he looked wildly around to find Mrs. Weasley cowering in the corner, and as he watched, she pointed her wand and got out Riddikulus.

The book nearly fell out of Lily's shaking hands, a combination of relief at such a drastic misunderstanding and still lingering sorrow of her own for this mother whom she now completely could sympathize with. She had so many she cared about, it was only natural this was any mothers boggart.

Harry watched those around him relax even as he couldn't shake this nasty feeling that his fear still pounding through him wasn't so unfounded, he had a very good reason to be worried about a dead Weasley...

Crack, the body changed to Bill instead, eyes open but lifeless. Mrs. Weasley kept sobbing harder than ever as she tried the spell again, but instead crack, it was now Mr. Weasley with blood dripping from his mouth.

Harry choked and shook his head furiously to push away something so powerful it was rearing up inside him to strike him down now if he lingered on that idea.

She kept trying in-between broken no's, but instead crack, dead twins,

James was running his fingers in agitation through his scalp as he fought whether to break in and ask if the boggart had managed to create both at once or was he just simplifying another two bodies. He came to his own silent conclusion it must be the first, even in death Molly couldn't picture the twins apart it seemed.

crack, dead Percy, crack, dead Harry.

Lily's voice wavered and nearly failed her as she was forced to imagine the same thing, while James wrapped an arm tight around her in comfort and a sudden tightening in his throat finally dispelling the majority of his anger at Molly. She'd still said some way to harsh things to his best friend, but at least now he could see she'd truly meant it in her heart of seeing his son as her own, and he couldn't really hate someone like that.

Harry shot at her to just get out of here, let someone else handle it, but then Lupin, Sirius, and Moody came into the room behind him.

Harry almost felt his own sob of relief escape him for this finally being cut off, he just couldn't imagine if that thing had kept going, he'd be forced to see even more people he cared about. Maybe even Ginny- his left hand suddenly spasmed and he clasped them tightly together in his lap instead to ignore whatever that moment was.

Lupin grasped the situation at once and shot his own spell, and while the boggart at first turned on him instead and changed shape to a silvery orb, he'd put enough force into the spell it finally vanished.

Molly was still a crying mess on the floor as Lupin went over to her, and the next second she was sobbing her heart into his shoulder.

Lily was fidgeting with the last page of this chapter, finally, as she all too easily envisioned that. She wondered if Remus was having any other flashbacks to comforting a redheaded mother in fear for her child.

He tried comforting it was just a meaningless boggart, but she brokenly told him she saw that, all the time! All of them dead...she dreamed about it!

Remus was staring vacantly at nothing as those words registered. Molly wasn't the only one who had those kinds of nightmares, though at least she'd never been the featuring monster doing the act to her loved ones.

Sirius was staring at the patch of carpet where the Boggart pretending to be Harry's body had lain.

Sirius felt his vision tunnel, a ghost crawling slowly up his spine and wrapping tight around him and refusing to let go of the idea that this would be the second time in his life he'd see his dead best friend, now somehow actually made worse as the fear of losing Harry all at the same time was shoved in his face...

"Sirius?" Harry gave him a hard poke, all of them watching him fearfully for that haunted look he usually only got when Dementors were being spoken of. Going with that assumption, Harry tried to laugh off, "it was gone before it could zone in on me, nothing else happens because of it."

"Right," he nodded hard, still staring steadily at his brother and forcing himself to watch the odd, curious look in place rather than the vacant eyes he'd envisioned.

Harry saw Moody was still watching him, and he had the feeling his magical eye had tracked him up here and told the other two about this.

Molly was still half sobbing out not for any of them to tell Arthur, he'd think she was being silly...

"Hardly," James murmured with conviction while Lily snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm.

Lupin continued comforting her while she pulled out a handkerchief and blew her nose, before she turned watery eyes on Harry and said how foolish he must think her, not able to get rid of a Boggart.

"I would never," Harry said almost indignantly, unable to picture such a fierce woman and mother as less because of her greatest fear.

Harry at once told her not to be stupid as he tried for a smile.

"That's not something to be saying to a crying woman," Sirius told purely because the words had escaped him without him even realizing it, there was no trace of him that could find mocking humor in this.

Tears spilled back over as she couldn't seem to stop herself from continuing how worried she was, it would be a miracle if everyone survived!

Harry made a terrifying, rasping noise of fright, his whole body tensed as if ready for a fight while he was seconds away from reliving something of what that boggart had just shown him-

"It's going to be alright Harry," Sirius marched into his train of thought with a comforting squeeze on his shoulder, clearly taking his own fear he'd just experienced and forcing it aside to pay attention to anything else, even Harry's resembled one. "That Weasley family is as tough as they come, things will work out. You're fine, everyone's going to be fine."

Harry forced himself to meet his eyes even if he in no way felt the comfort.

Percy wasn't even speaking to them, what if something happened and they never made up!

Lily couldn't read that without a hard hitch in her throat as it was exactly the fear she held for the woman and child. She'd always felt pity for Percy, could almost see how his offense could have lived with his parents choosing some outsider of the family rather than refusing to see his side, but as she knew her son was the one in the right all she could really do was cling to the now bleak hope it all somehow just had to work out.

And Ron and Ginny were still so young, what would happen to them if her and Arthur-

Lupin cut her off firmly that was enough. Explaining the Order was much better off than the last time where they'd just been picked off one by one.

James hated that it all kept floating right there as a constant reminder. His friends, his wife, how soon they'd all succumb to this war... and who's fault it was. Even if he hadn't raised the wand, even if some of them would have died without the intel that had been provided, he could never look another member of the Order in the face again without always knowing there was one member to kill them all.

Sirius abruptly cut in telling her not to worry about Percy.

Remus was honestly grateful Sirius had stopped him, even now he didn't think that was the best line of comfort, he'd just been trying to fling around facts in hopes she'd quiet which is what normally worked for himself.

Sirius wasn't at all surprised that's what he'd caught on. He knew a little something about regret when it came to losing estranged family. He was still living through that highlight.

He'd come around when the Ministry had no choice but to admit Voldemort was back, he was bound to come into the open soon and then everyone would be begging them for forgiveness, which Sirius bitterly finished with he wasn't likely to give.

"Absolutely no one will blame you at that time mate," James agreed nastily while Harry gave an obligatory laugh for the statement while ignoring some vicious little thought popping up in his mind he hoped his godfather lived long enough to see that day. He stamped that right back out and refused to acknowledge it as anything other than his pessimistic side having some bad timing while watching Molly fear the same for her own loved ones.

While Lupin gently finished with of course Ron and Ginny would be looked after, the whole Order would see to that, no one was going to let them starve.

Harry had never even imagined the idea of where his best friend would live if not with his parents. His first assumption he supposed would be one of his older brothers, Bill seemed the most likely, but what Remus had just said really struck a chord in Harry as he realized how much Remus did care. Making him want to question all the more where his stance had been back when Harry had gone to live with the Dursleys. He was growing more confident by the day though he did not get an answer to that.

Mrs. Weasley gave one little smile for the lot of them as she again told herself how silly she was being, but as Harry stepped back out to finish going to his room, he could not find her silly for a moment.

It suddenly hurt James too much just to even look at Lily. To see the emotions that caused to play out on her face, to hear how broken her voice came out with that, so he turned busy eyes anywhere else while unable to remove himself from her side to keep her soft warm body as his comfort.

Without warning, the scar on his forehead seared with pain again and his stomach churned horribly.

This was certainly a big enough thing anybody normally would have eagerly flipped topics, to discuss and try to figure out why Harry's scar would be burning at a time like this, but for once they were all to clammed up in their own heads for fear of this future for that to have even made much of an impact past the smallest bit of registering it happening, and Harry immediately brushing it off.

He rubbed at his forehead and told it to knock it off, while the empty painting snidely told him the first sign of madness was talking to yourself.

"Absolutely not," Remus muttered to himself, "talking to yourself is perfectly normal."

"Most people still bother keeping it in their own head," Sirius remarked quietly, leaning just a bit more closely to Moony than normal for that reminder he still had one friend with him in this bleak future.

Harry ignored the jab, feeling suddenly old as he sunk down onto his bed and realized just hours ago he'd been worried about stupid little things like a prefect badge.

"I'm done," Lily snapped with triumph, wishing she could go back to that moment, to so many before of her sons more childlike memories rather than having the harsh reality of the life she was living slammed down around them.

"I know it's hard love," James promised, running his hand up and down her back and still looking vacantly around the room, "so if you need me to fini-"

"No, I meant with the chapter," she corrected, all of her features still brittle with everything she'd been feeling in these moments. James finally looked back over at her, and it took a moment to drag himself out of the depth of her eyes to remember he had a book to grab.

HPHPHPHP

I'm not sorry for how harsh I was on Hermione in the portion of this chapter you all know I'm talking about. She really ticked me off while she was talking about Sirius, just like Molly before. Both women just seem to have this high and mighty status when it comes to him where they think they know everything about him and are trying to correct his everything, thinking they know and understand the reasons he acts the way he does, and I just want to smack both of them and tell them to leave the poor guy alone because both aren't true even one little bit. The closest person is Remus and even he lost a lot of rights in telling Sirius anything after twelve years. Molly earned back some sympathy here at the end, but now Hermione's in the hothouse which probably won't last long because...well honestly because it doesn't really come back up again which really makes me mad, but doesn't hold much focus so there's no point in continually revisiting it.

I've heard that in some of the original drafts of this book Ron was slated to die at some point, and I feel like that's made pretty clear in this chapter in particular. Am absolutely not saying I wanted it to happen, I love Ron to much, but credit to this woman for constantly setting up so many things.

* I do realize I created my own little plot hole in saying this was the book Lupin used as boggarts can't be found in that, but rather than just making one up on the spot I wanted to incorporate that into cannon a little better, and just pretend that the actual book is longer than the version we all get.

#Harry Potter #The LIfe that Never LIved #HP #Ootp #Marauders #reading the books #fanfiction #jilly #James Potter #Lily Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black

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prismarts · 4 years ago

Text

Birthday Surprise (Camelot Era)

Plot: Douxie and Archie plan a surprise for Illy’s birthday after discovering an unfortunate event that happened on her 18th birthday, a year ago.

Notes: Douxie X OC, fluff fluff fluff,.... also I had to rewrite this whole thing when my laptop just crashed soooo enjoy!

It was a regular day in Camelot,

Douxie had just spent his first few months in the castle as Merlin’s apprentice, he had been learning spells but mostly, had been doing chores for his master...much to the apprentice’s frustration. Even so, he was determined and willing to do as much as he could to learn.

He was asleep at the moment, he got a day off from Merlin’s chores and is choosing to spend the day with some well deserved naps. What he didn’t know was that his familiar was approaching another apprentice.

Illy, a fellow apprentice and student to Morgana that he had met and befriended during his time in the castle.

Archie approached and sat down next to the girl as he noticed the lost and melancholy look on her face.

“Is something wrong, Illyria?..”

Illy turned to the familiar as she gave him a small smile, but it looked forced as she glanced away for a second, “Today is just.... a hard day for me, Archie.....shouldn’t you be with Douxie?...”

“For all we know, he’s still fast asleep..” Archie commented which made the apprentice laugh a little, the cat dragon turned back to look at the girl. “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong with today that’s gotten you so down?...”

The apprentice turned her head and stared at the ground, “....it’s...my birthday...”, she mumbled with a bothered look in her eyes.

Archie raised an eyebrow in confusion as he started to purr a little to cheer Illy up, he was still a cat currently.

“Did something happen?.... I don’t know much about human customs....but I believe a birthday is a celebration..”

“Well....your mother won’t usually send you to be executed by King Arthur for being magic....on your birthday..”

“....excuse me?...”

“....my mother sent me to be executed for being magic....on my eighteenth birthday...a year ago... she thought it would be easier....to get rid of me, so I wouldn’t cause problems for the family....but Morgana convinced Master Merlin to take me in....and well, you know the rest...”

“On your birthday of all days?.....” Archie sounded...shocked and concerned.

Illy began fidgeting with her long brown hair, her turquoise eyes avoiding eye contact with the familiar as she stared at the ground.

She never really thought about what happened and she tried not to really care about it. She was able to meet Douxie and Archie after all, a friend who understood and encouraged her love of magic and a familiar who felt like an older brother to her.

Then there was Morgana, the mother figure she wanted....even if they were a bit distant the past few days...

“I just....stop celebrating it now...” The girl admitted quietly..

Archie was about to say something, about how she should be able to celebrate, but the apprentice had stood up and petted the familiar’s head gently.

“Thank you for letting me talk about it, Archie.....but I should be heading to lessons now..” Illy gave the cat dragon a small smile that seemed a little forced, seemingly to keep the familiar from getting concerned before leaving.

But, Archie was concerned, more than the girl realize as he thought to himself and changed into his dragon form. He flew up to the tower and barged into Douxie’s chambers.

Slamming the doors so suddenly that the noise made the poor boy jolt awake and fall onto the stone floor on his back.

“OOWWwwwWWW FUzzBucKetS!!!”

“Good, you’re awake.”

“Because you startled me awake, Arch!” Douxie called out in an annoyed tone as he groaned when he stood up, “Why are you flying?.. you could have just pushed the door open and walked in?!” He sounded grouchy and confused, possibly from being woken up the way he was on the one day he gets to take naps.

“Yes, I could have but I do need your help.” The familiar said as he turned into his cat form and sat atop a stack of books.

“it better be important, Arch, I’ve been trying to catch up on some sleep here.” Yeah, he was a grouchy apprentice at the moment.

“it’s Illyria’s birthday...”

Douxie’s face softened a bit, “Oh...is it?....I never knew..”, but he soon looked confused again as he turned to his familiar with his arms crossed. “But, what does this have to do with you slamming into the room?”

Douxie was confused until Archie explained what Illy had told him....

Now he was downright fuming.

“Bleeding balroths. What kind of family does that!?!” The wizard’s tone was angered and had a tone of frustration as his crossed arms looked more tense. He and Illy were good friends, perhaps he wasn’t as close to her as he is with Archie...but he was still protective of her and he still cares.

“Apparently hers, I’m worried Douxie....she seemed to be trying really hard to hide how much this bothers her. She deserves a nice time for her birthday..” The familiar sounded worried as he could tell how upset Illy had been.

Douxie thought to himself, his hand on his chin before a grin appeared on his face, “You’re right, Arch and I think I know just how we can help with that.”

It took almost the entire day, but Douxie and Archie were able to get everything set up and were now ready to surprise their friend and fellow apprentice.

Thankfully, Douxie found her studying in Merlin’s tower. As he walked into the study with a fond smile, he cheekily made the book levitate out of her hands.

“Douxie?..” Illy looked up as her book was enchanted with the familiar sky blue magic and she looked at the taller apprentice.

“Greetings, love..” He grinned at her.

“Can I have my book back please?..”

The apprentice smiled as he made the book float higher, “Hmm, maybe. If you follow me, I’ve got something to show you!”

“And this isn’t a joke?.... Are you trying to trick me, Casperan?..”

Illy asked as she had a smirk on her face and raised an eyebrow.

“Now, why would i want to trick the birthday girl?” Douxie asked with a smile as he gently helped a surprise and flustered Illy up, he then gently made the book fall into her hands again.

“H..how did you-”

“Uh, nuh uh! That doesn’t matter now, what matters is you following me to your surprise!”

The apprentice gave her a grin as he walked behind her and held her arms before levitating a soft cloth up and blindfolding her.

“Uh....this...doesn’t feel safe..”

Douxie had been leading her outside of Merlin’s study and they were walking fine but Illy is now feeling scared as they walked down the stairs.

Her cheeks were slightly red, knowing how close Douxie was behind her...she could feel how warm he was.

“I got you, love. Don’t worry.”

“With your track record, Douxie...I kind of am..”

Douxie rolled his eyes and let out a laugh, “Cheeky today, aren’t you?” He grinned mischievously, “Well then, since you’re worried about walking..”

Illy soon let out a small squeal as she felt Douxie’s arm go behind her back and lift her up as his other arm rested under her legs.

Oh fuzzbuckets, Oh Merlin, he was carrying her...

The shorter apprentice felt her face heat up and turn red as she squeaked a little out of pure flustered feelings, “D...Douxie!!?”

But he wasn’t listening and ended up carrying her the rest of the way, it felt...nice..he was quite warm and comforting.

Illy soon felt the wind blow in her long brunette hair as she wondered where Douxie had carried her off to. She felt him put her down and helped her stand.

“Alright, we’re here!”

The apprentice said excitedly behind her as she felt him untie her blindfold to reveal where they were.

Illy saw that they were in a beautiful grassy green clearing behind the castle, it was filled with flowers of various colours and scents and in front of them from afar was an enchanting willow tree.

Under the tree, a picnic blanket was laid down on the grassy ground with what looked to be a picnic basket on it and Archie who had been resting under said tree.

“D...Douxie...I...d...did you....do...i..is this for me?...”

Her voice was quiet as she sounded surprised and emotional, she let out a shaky breath as it hitched slightly. She was trying hard not to cry but already felt tears forming.

“Well, it’s your birthday, isn’t it love?...”

Douxie smiled fondly at her as he gently took her small hand and held it. He lead her towards the picnic setup before offering her a spot under the shady tree, “After you, m’lady..”

The birthday girl couldn’t help but giggle softly as she sat down, looking around at the beautiful scenery while Douxie sat down next to her.

“It’s beautiful here...”

“I know....it reminded me of you....”

Douxie hadn’t realized how much he made the apprentice next to her blush with that comment as he levitated a small pie towards her and into her hands. He wasn’t able to sneak much into the basket, just a few small meat pies and some pastries.

He was also able to get some fish for Archie as he levitated it towards his familiar who ate alongside them.

He was quite hungry himself as he wasted no time stuffing the small pies into his mouth. Though, Illy seemed a bit slow as she took a few bites of the pie, it was delicious but she was a bit lost in thought.

“Douxie..”

“Hmm?..” The apprentice next to her hummed in question as his mouth was stuffed with pies, Illy smiled and blushed, it was an adorable sight..

“Why...are you doing this?...you didn’t have to....”

Illy asked quietly, she looked at the grass as she was a bit confused, flattered but still.

They were good friends but she never would have expected Douxie to go above and beyond for her birthday this way.... at most she expected a simple happy birthday from him. But this was so much more..

Douxie rubbed the back of his neck and pursed his lips, “Arch....told me about what happened on your birthday....a year ago...about what you told him... and Illy, I’m...really sorry for what happened but...Arch and I planned this because you deserve it....to celebrate your birthday even if it is with just a simple picnic..”

“We both believe that, you’ve been through a lot a year ago..” Archie added as both wizard and familiar smiled at the girl.

“It’s...perfect....the best birthday I’ve ever had...”

“Yeah?..”

Illy nodded as she went back to eating with Archie...

As for Douxie, he would have eaten more if he hadn’t been smiling like a goofball.

Though after a while, he remembered they had two more things for their friend, “Oh! fuzzbuckets, I almost forgot..” Douxie nodded at Archie as if to signal him for something before looking into the basket.

“Douxie, you and Archie have done so much already....what else could you possibly-”

As she said that, Archie had jumped onto her shoulders and placed a woven flower crown on her head with a smile as Douxie used his magic to levitate a small cake.

It was a bit messily decorated, but still looked adorable and delicious, it had a few candles on it, not nineteen candles exactly but it was the though that counts.

“Douxie..” Archie said, possibly just now realizing the messy decoration on the cake.

“I know, Arch. I realize I’m not the best at decorating, but a birthday girl needs a cake.” The apprentice said back with a slight glare but it made Illy laugh as she teared up... she was genuinely touched.

Archie rolled his eyes and soon breathed out a bit of fire that Douxie was able to control and safely land them onto the candles with his magic, making the flames a sky blue..

Something about the two of them using their fire and magic to light the candles felt special to Illy. She couldn’t help but felt her breath hitch a little as she fought a sniffle with a giggle.

“Happy Birthday, Illy.” Douxie was the first to say before Archie wished her a happy birthday as well.

“D..Douxie..Archie...I..”

“Uh uh, make a wish, love....you can thank us after making your wish..” Douxie smiled as he held the cake up to his friend and watched as she wiped her tears away from her freckled cheeks and excitedly closed her eyes, quietly making a wish before blowing out the candles.

Illy opened her tear filled turquoise eyes as she took the cake and put it down for a second, she immediately hugged the apprentice and his familiar closely, tearing up shakily but she was the happiest wizard in the world.

“T..thank you s...so much...b..both of you...”

“Of course, love...”

“Your welcome, Illyria..”

The three soon pulled away from the hug as Douxie levitated a knife and cut up slices of the cake, putting them on two plates he ‘borrowed’ from the kitchens.

As the three sat to eat cake, Douxie looked over at the apprentice next to him, “So...what did you wish for, birthday girl? A prince charming, perhaps?” He asked jokingly as he earned a cute laugh from Illy.

He smiled at the sound of her laugh as he was soon elbowed by her.

“You wish, Casperan... and I’m not even supposed to tell you, then it won’t come ture..” Illy said with a grin.

“Aww, fuzzbuckets, you tease and after everything I did.” He joked as the two apprentices shared a laugh before enjoying the cake together..

But, Illy did wish for something...

She wished she could spend every day with Douxie and Archie by her side..

#toa #toa wizards #tales of arcadia #wizards tales of arcadia #toa camelot #douxilly #douxie x oc #toa archie #toa douxie #douxie #douxie casperan #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #tales of arcadia oc

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celestialvoid-fanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Rewriting Destiny

A stranger comes to Camelot and Merlin finds himself curiously drawn to the young man, however Arthur is not as welcoming.

For @spirk-erkel01

(You can read it on AO3, here)

Merlin shivered as the chill of the cool autumn air as a breeze rolled through the dense trees, pulling his jacket tight and adjusting his scarf to better cover his neck.

He dragged his feet through the dew-dampened grass as he wandered down the muddy tracks that were worn into the forest floor.

He shrugged the strap of his satchel further up onto his shoulder and dug into the bag, looking for the list of herbs Gaius had sent him to gather.

He made his way through the undergrowth, tracking his way along the familiar paths and collecting the medicinal herbs and plants on the list—chamomile, ginseng root, sage, milk thistle, dandelions and Echinacea.

He moved about the undergrowth, gathering the plants.

There was a rustle among the trees.

Merlin straightened, bolting upright. His bright eyes scanned the shadows of the trees.

“Who’s there?” he called out, but the only reply he got was the rustling of branches and the twitter of birds. “Gwaine, if that’s you, this isn’t funny. I thought you learnt your lesson after the last time you tried to pull a trick on me.”

He felt a swell of power grow within him, ready to protect himself.

A figure stepped into the clearing.

The young man had tanned skin and long blonde hair that was pulled back and tied up with a piece of cloth. His chin was shadowed by the scruff of a beard and his dark brown eyes looked about the clearing before falling on Merlin, his hand tightening on the strap of his bag as he shrugged it further up onto his shoulder.

“I don’t know who Gwaine is,” the man said. “But I swear I’m not playing a trick on you.”

“What are you doing here?” Merlin asked. “Not many people come to this part of the woods.”

“I think I got turned around,” the man said, looking around. “I was heading to Camelot but I think I took a wrong turn somewhere.”

Merlin let out a quiet chuckle. “Let me just finish collecting a few things and then I’ll show you the way.”

“Thanks.”

“You really ought to be careful, there are bandits in these parts of the woods,” Merlin told him.

“I appreciate the warning,” the man replied. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

“I’m Merlin, by the way,” he introduced himself, dusting off the dirt that clung to his hand before holding it out to the man.

“Eymund,” he replied, shaking Merlin’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Merlin said.

He finished collecting the medicinal herbs, stowing them away in his satchel before leading the way back through the undergrowth and towards Camelot.

Heads turned to watch as the young man made his way up through the markets, passing the small fruit stalls, stands with bundles of cloth and tailored clothes, and merchants. A few gazes turned his way, a buzz of chatter following after him as he wove his way through the crowded streets.

“So, what are you doing in Camelot?” Merlin asked, stopping to drop off a bottle of medicine to one of the shop keepers before continuing on through the crowded marketplace.

“Just passing through,” Eymund answered.

“How long are you staying?”

“A few days,” Eymund replied. “I’ve been travelling so long, it might be nice to sleep on an actual bed.”

Merlin chuckled.

“Besides,” Eymund said, his voice quieting slightly, “there’s a few things I need to get in order.”

Merlin nodded thoughtfully.

He opened his mouth to say something when a familiar voice rang out across the market place, interrupting him.

“Merlin!”

He turned, looking to where a man dressed in a faded grey shirt and an old brown leather jacket wove his way through the crowd. His long brown hair was a tousled mess and his jaw was shadowed by an unshaved beard. He pushed his hair back from his face, flashing a bright smile as he looked at Merlin.

“There you are,” he said, a hint of relief in his voice. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

Merlin was about to ask what he meant by ‘we’ when he looked over Gwaine’s shoulder to see Percival and Elyan making their way through the crowded street.

“I had to run errands for Gaius,” Merlin explained, looking back at Gwaine, but the knight’s eyes were focused on Eymund, his brow furrowed slightly with confusion—as if he were trying to remember something.

“Arthur’s looking for you,” Elyan told Merlin.

Merlin nodded. He turned to Eymund, offering him a friendly smile. “I’m sorry.”

Eymund returned the smile. “It’s alright. I’ll see you around.”

“See you,” Merlin farewelled.

Merlin crossed the town square, stopping before where Eymund sat at the foot of a flight of stairs.

In the few days Eymund had been in town, he and Merlin had spent a lot of time together—talking, mostly.

It was just nice to spend time with someone who wasn’t giving him orders or talking about his destiny; it was nice to be normal for a bit.

Merlin sat down next to Eymund, talking quietly as they watched people go about their day.

“I made something for you,” Eymund said after a little while, reaching over to where the whittled animals he had made sat on the stone step beside him.

He picked up one of them, handing it to Merlin.

It was a stag carved from a piece of pine. It was detailed and delicate, from the curve of its ears and the shape of its nose to the fragile outstretched antlers and upturned tail. There were small notches sliced into the wood to give the creature eyes and scratches along the body that added to the swirls of grain in order to give the illusion of fur.

“It’s beautiful” Merlin said, mesmerised.

“A deer symbolises intuition, vigilance, and caution, but they also symbolise mystery, power, protectiveness and grace,” Eymund said. His dark eyes flicked up to meet Merlin’s. “Much like you.”

“Intuition, vigilance and caution, maybe,” Merlin replied, “but grace? I know a few people who would disagree with that.”

“Then again, I’ve seen more than a few deer stumble over their own feet,” Eymund said with a low chuckle.

“Then, I guess, it’s accurate,” Merlin laughed, a bright smile lighting up his face.

He looked down at the whittled deer in his hands, his smile softening as he looked at it fondly.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“Merlin!” Arthur’s voice rang out across the square, frustration and impatience adding an edge to his voice.

Merlin let out a sigh and rose to his feet. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” Eymund farewelled, offering Merlin a friendly smile as he watched the young man walk away.

That afternoon, after training, Arthur stood by the window, his face set in a scowl as he looked down over the town square. His bright eyes were focused on the young man who sat on the far side of the square, leaning back against one of the pillars as he whittled away at a piece of wood.

"I don't think you should be spending so much time with him," Arthur said.

“Who?” Merlin asked, setting down the armour chest piece he had been polishing.

“That Eymund guy,” Arthur replied, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

"Why not?" Merlin asked.

"You don't even know the guy," Arthur argued.

"And how am I meant to get to know him if I don't spend time with him?”

Arthur didn’t reply.

“He's a nice guy,” Merlin said. “Besides, since when do you concern yourself with who I spend time with?"

"I don't want you to get hurt, is all," Arthur admitted.

"Just because you don't like people—"

"I like people," Arthur objected.

"Oh, yeah?" Merlin said. "Name one person you like."

You, Arthur thought.

The word caught in his throat; he wanted nothing more than to say it, but he couldn’t. So, instead, he said nothing.

Merlin raised his brow questioningly.

Arthur bit his tongue, drawing in a measured breath as he tried to ignore the way his heart ached.

"Yeah,” Merin said smugly. “That's what I thought."

Dawn broke over the castle, the dim light growing brighter as the sun crested the horizon.

Gwaine and Percival walked ahead through the streets, tearing apart and devouring the sweet roll they’d stolen from the palace kitchens.

“One day you two are going to get caught,” Elyan lectured them.

Percival let out a low chuckle, but Gwaine didn’t reply; he was lost in thought.

“Okay, seriously, what’s wrong with you?” Elyan asked turning to face Gwaine. “You haven’t been yourself for days. You’ve been disturbingly quiet—and I never thought I’d say it but I miss you talking. You didn’t even make one remark when Leon fell over in training yesterday.”

Gwaine didn’t rely. He didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard what Elyan had said.

“Are you sick?” Elyan asked. “Do we need to take you to see Gaius?”

Gwaine’s feet slowed to a stop, his body stiffening. His eyes widened with fear as realisation crashed over him like a wave, knocking the air from his lungs.

Elyan and Percival stopped, turning to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” Elyan asked, his voice hitching with worry as he looked at the expression on Gwaine’s face.

“Oh no,” Gwaine uttered.

Without another word, he turned, digging his feet into the cobblestones as he took off running. He sprinted into the castle, ignoring Percival and Elyan as they shouted after him.

He ran up the stairs and sprinted down the hallways.

He threw open the doors to Arthur’s chambers, stumbling into the room. His wide eyes scanned the room.

He wasn’t there.

“What is going on?” Arthur asked, standing up from behind his desk.

“Where’s Merlin?” Gwaine asked, panicked.

“With Gaius, I assume,” Arthur answered. “Why?”

Gwaine didn’t answer. He turned and took off running again. Arthur grabbed his jacket, pulling it on as he stepped out into the hallway.

Elyan and Percival were in the hallway, exchanging confused looks as Gwaine sprinted back down the hallway.

Arthur opened his mouth to ask them what was going on but they both looked at him with confusion and shrugged.

Arthur chased after Gwaine, Elyan and Percival following after him.

Gwaine burst into the physician’s quarters.

Gaius jumped, letting out a startled cry and knocking over a tankard of water.

“Is Merlin here?” Gwaine asked, his shoulders rising and falling as he heaved in heavy breaths.

“No,” Gaius answered. “He left with Eymund about an hour ago.”

“Damnit,” Gwaine cursed.

Arthur, Percival and Elyan stumbled through the doorway.

“What is going on?” Gaius asked, looking at the four of them with a look of shock and confusion.

“I don’t know,” Arthur replied.

“I knew I recognised his face,” Gwaine rambled, lost in his thoughts. Frustration added an edge to his voice, but his anger was directed at himself. “How did I not realise it sooner?”

“Gwaine,” Percival said firmly, pulling the man’s attention back to reality.

“What are you talking about?” Arthur asked.

“Merlin’s in trouble.”

The dry husks of leaves crackled beneath the soles of their shoes, the rich smell of sweet petrichor filling their lungs as they walked along the muddy trail, away from the grassy knolls and castle gates and further into the woods.

The tall trees towered over them, thin beams of wavering light shining through the canopy and dancing across the forest floor. The leaves were beginning to change, a few trees were turning golden or auburn as the autumn chill hung in the air.

Crystal-like droplets of dew gathered on the wavering blades of grass and delicate flowers grew along the edge of the path, filling the undergrowth with bursts of colour: white, purple, orange, yellow, and blue.

Merlin ducked under the low hanging branches, brushing aside the spindly limbs that reached out for him.

“Where are we going?” he asked, looking around at the dark shadows that lingered among the undergrowth.

“To make change,” Eymund replied.

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

Merlin followed him regardless.

They came to a small clearing.

Eymund slowed to a stop, his back turned to Merlin.

Merlin turned about in circles, looking at the trees that surrounded him. “What are we doing here?”

“Do you believe in destiny?” Eymund asked.

“I guess,” Merlin replied half-heartedly. “Why?”

“Do you believe destiny can be changed?”

“What are you talking about?” Merlin asked.

“Arthur is destined to be the Once and Future King,” Eymund said. “But if he were to die, Camelot will fall without its king and magic will rule again. The only thing stoping that from happening, the only thing protecting Arthur, is you—”

He turned to face Merlin, the collar of his shirt falling open enough to reveal the black lines of a spiralling triskellion that was tattooed onto his chest.

Merlin blinked in surprise.

He was a druid.

Eymund’s eyes darkening with rage. “—Emrys.”

The name sent a chill down Merlin’s spine, his eyes widening as ice flooded his veins.

In one swift movement, Eymund drew a dagger from where it was sheathed in the small of his back and lunged at Merlin.

Merlin dove to the side.

Eymund swung again.

Merlin ducked under his arm, turning into his body and slamming his elbow into Eymund’s chest.

The man let out a choked breath, staggering back slightly as Merlin stepped out of his reach.

Maybe all those years of training and sparring with Arthur had actually paid off.

Eymund regained his footing, his shoulders rising and falling with ragged breaths. He was livid, snarling s he glared at Merlin.

“Without you to protect him, Arthur will die and magic will return,” Eymund said. “I thought you would understand. Sacrifices must be made.”

He lunged at Merlin again.

Merlin dove aside and rolled across the forest floor as he narrowly avoided another blow, muttering under his breath, “Easy for you to say if you’re not the one being sacrificed.”

Merlin rose to his feet, his eyes focused on Eymund. He felt a swell of power grow within him, his eyes glowing gold as his magic soared through his veins.

Eymund charged at him.

“Merlin!”

He felt something crash into him, knocking him aside.

There was the sickening sound of a blade tearing through flesh and a strangled gasp of pain.

Merlin hit the ground with a painful thud. He felt a stab of fear pierce his heart as he turned around, the glow from his eyes fading as he watched the other man collapse back against the trunk of a nearby tree. The front of his shirt was stained red, streams of blood gushing from the wound.

His heart sank into his stomach, his stomach twisting and a wave of bile rising into his throat. He swallowed hard.

“Arthur,” he gasped breathlessly.

Eymund stumbled back, the dagger still in his hands, the blade now slick with blood.

Arthur weakly reached for where he had dropped his sword.

A wicked smile turned up the corner of the man’s lips as he looked down at Arthur. “Or I could just cut out the middle man and eliminate you myself.”

“No!” Merlin shouted.

His eyes lit up with a golden glow as he held out his hand, sending Eymund flying.

Eymund struck a tree, letting out a cry of pain. The dagger fell from his hand and his hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Merlin watched him for a second before pushing himself to his feet and running over to Arthur’s side.

“What were you doing out here?”

“Saving you,” Arthur said.

“I suppose you’ll want to say ‘I told you so’,” Merlin muttered.

“I don’t have to,” Arthur replied.

“How did you find me?” Merlin asked.

“Gwaine knew him,” Arthur told him, his words broken as he gasped in pain. “They crossed paths back when Gwaine first came to Camelot. He knew he was a druid and he thought you were in trouble. I came looking for you.”

Arthur tensed, drawing in another sharp breath.

“Hold still,” Merlin said as he carefully rolled up the hem of Arthur’s blood-soaked shirt, looking at the gash that was torn across his stomach.

He felt his stomach twist nauseatingly, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat.

Smears of blood covered his tan skin, the bitter metallic smell burning at Merlin’s nose and making his stomach churn.

He swallowed hard, his hands shaking slightly as he ran the tips of his fingers across Arthur’s skin.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Arthur lied.

Merlin didn’t respond. He held his hand over the wound, his eyes lighting up with a golden glow as his power soared through him.

He watched as the flesh stitched itself together, the wound healing itself.

He slowly sat back, his eyes fading back to their natural hue.

“You have magic?” Arthur asked, stunned.

“I was born with it,” Merlin admitted, his voice quiet and his eyes focused on the ground, unable to look Arthur in the eye.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Merlin looked up, levelling him with a look.

“Oh, right,” Arthur said quietly.

Merlin dropped his gaze again.

“You need rest,” He said as he sat down, leaning back against the trunk of a nearby tree.

A heavy silence settled between the two of them.

“What are you thinking?” Arthur asked after a while, studying Merlin’s thoughtful expression.

“If I go back to Camelot, I’ll be executed,” Merlin said quietly. “But I have nowhere else to go. If I run, you’ll only find me; I’ll only be delaying the inevitable.”

“Come back to Camelot,” Arthur pleaded.

“I can’t,” Merlin replied.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Arthur said.

“You have a duty as the future king to uphold the law.”

“I will not let them kill you!” Arthur shouted.

Merlin looked at him, shocked.

“Why not?” he asked, struggling to find his voice. “I’m just a servant boy.”

Arthur shook his head, glistening tears welling in his eyes. “No, you’re not. You’re more than that. You’re so much more than that.”

Arthur let out a sigh.

“Merlin, you’re my friend,” he said quietly, dropping his gaze to the blanket of leaves that covered the forest floor. “But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that there are times I wish you were so much more than that.”

Merlin didn’t say anything.

“The way I feel about you…” Arthur continued, struggling to string his thoughts together with words. “…I’ve never felt that way about anyone before.”

Arthur lifted his gaze, his cobalt blue eyes full of emotion as he looked at Merlin.

“It’s always been you,” Arthur said. “It’s only ever been you.”

Merlin was stunned. All he could manage to say was, “I never knew you felt that way.”

“I never knew how to say it,” Arthur admitted.

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but his words fell short of his lips when Arthur winced, drawing in a sharp breath between his gritted teeth.

Something was wrong; the wound had healed but Arthur was still in pain.

Merlin pulled himself over to Arthur’s side. He lifted up the blood stained shirt.

The skin around the wound was marred by black lines that radiated outwards like shattered glass.

“We have to get you back to Camelot,” Merlin said.

There was a rustle among the trees.

Merlin grabbed Arthur’s sword, leaping to his feet and bracing himself. His eyes darted about the shadows, listening as the snapping of branches and rustling leaves drew closer.

He swallowed hard, tightening his grip on the sword until the skin stretched over his knuckles turned white.

A figure burst through the foliage, riding atop a white stead.

They pulled hard on the reins, pulling the horse up short and breathing out a sigh of relief.

“You do not know how relieved I am to see you two,” Lancelot said.

“Arthur’s hurt,” Merlin said, not wasting any time. “I need you to get him to Gaius.”

Lancelot dismounted his stead, rushing over to Arthur’s side.

Beads of sweat dampened Arthur’s brow, strands of blonde hair clinging to his flushed skin.

“He’s been poisoned,” Merlin explained. “I’d treat it myself but I don’t have what I need.”

“I’ll take him to Gaius. Help me get him on the horse,” Lancelot said.

“I won’t leave you out here on your own,” Arthur objected.

“Arthur, we don’t have time to argue about this,” Merlin said, lifting Arthur’s arm over his shoulders and hoisting the prince to his feet. “You need help, otherwise you’ll die.”

Lancelot helped him lift Arthur onto the horse, watching as he swayed weakly and struggled to stay upright in the saddle. Lancelot climbed up behind him, holding one hand around Arthur’s waist to steady him.

“Take him straight to Gaius.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Arthur said, his sharp glare softening as he looked at Merlin pleadingly.

“When you two are done bickering,” Lancelot interrupted. He lifted his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle.

A few moments later, there was a rush of noise—the crack of branches and the sound of hooves pounding the damp earth. The rest of the knights rode into the small clearing.

Leon slowed his horse beside Merlin, holding his hand out to the young man. “Need a ride?”

Merlin smiled up at him. He took his hand, letting Leon pull him up onto his horse.

The horses’ hooves thundered against the earth as they rode back to Camelot.

The light had begun to fade, the dusk sky lit with vibrant colours. The streets were quiet, the only noise coming from the few people who were securing their animals or the raucous laughter that filtered out of the tavern.

Arthur’s condition had stabilised. He was still weak from blood loss and he needed rest.

Merlin held Arthur’s arm over his shoulder, steadying the young prince on his feet as he helped him walk slowly up the stairs that lead to Merlin’s chambers.

He walked him over to the bed, pulling back the sheets and lowering Arthur onto the bed.

The bed wasn’t as large or as soft as Arthur’s bed, but he was in no condition to walk back to his room.

Merlin pulled the blankets up over the young man’s shoulders, watching as he settled among the soft sheets.

Arthur’s heavy eyelids fell shut as he let out a deep sigh.

Merlin couldn’t help but smile as he watched Arthur for a moment. But the smile was short-lived, falling from his face as he rose to his feet and turned to leave.

He felt something grab his hand, turning to see Arthur’s hand weakly holding onto his wrist.

“Stay,” Arthur rasped.

“Is that an order?” Merlin asked, his voice softened by his teasing tone.

Arthur opened his eyes slightly, the bright blue depths of his eyes weary and unfocused as he looked at Merlin.

“Merlin, stay with me,” he pleaded.

A small smile turned up the corners of Merlin’s lips. He stepped back over to the bed and sat down on the floor, leaning against the mattress. He reached up, taking Arthur’s hand in his own and whispering, “Always.”

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Merlin accidentally becomes Legolas/Katniss/Merida… you know the type;

He may be shitty at sword fighting, but Merlin begins to use a traditional bow and arrow and… actually becomes very good at it??

I imagine the first time he does it, it’s a complete fluke.

The five knights, The King, and Merlin are on their way back from yet another (frankly, ridiculous) quest.

They have been, of course, ambushed by a group of bandits, twenty to their six (six plus Merlin, though no one bar Lancelot knows about his magic, so he isn’t counted as a fighter). Though the knights outweigh them in skill, their sheer numbers makes it a… challenging, fight (meaning that they are winning, but far too slowly for their liking, and no one wants to admit it).

Now normally, Merlin hides behind a tree or in a ditch, and performs his spells quietly without being noticed, slowly helping and speeding up the fight. Except this time, the Gang was in the middle of a barren, open field, the bandits had disguised themselves with magic until the moment they attacked, and Merlin was right in the middle of all the action.

Everyone worried for his safety. There was nowhere for him to hide here, so they had to keep an eye on him, lest he get hurt (and Arthur sulked, or kicked off, depending on how badly he was hurt).

With nowhere to hide (and no branches to drop, or roots to trip people with), and one of the knights throwing a glance his way every ten seconds, he couldn’t use his magic.

He was currently on his hands and knees, Leon directly in front of him, Percival to his left, holding off four attackers between them (Merlin would marvel at how impressive that was if he weren’t otherwise preoccupied).

He keeps trying to get to Arthur, crawling between legs and over the groaning, injured bodies of bandits (he made a point to land sharp elbows and harsh knees into the more… sensitive areas), but with everyone moving around so rapidly, and the vicious swinging of swords and axes and maces inches above his head, he kept getting side-tracked and blocked and almost knocked out.

With a frustrated huff, he notices yet another bandit rounding on The King. Said huff turns into a pained gasp when he realises that Arthur hasn’t seen him yet.

The bandit raises his weapon in the air, seconds from bringing it down on Arthur’s back, but Leon is right there, and there are no branches to drop on him, and Arthur still hasn’t noticed!

The noise is too loud, grunts and yells and clashes of metal drowning out any sort of warning yell that Merlin could throw Arthur’s way, and he scrabbles around on the floor desperately; hands raking through sharp grass and over bloodied bodies as he stares in horror at the triumphant smirk on the future-King-killer’s face.

Time seems to slow (no magic, just adrenaline) as Merlin’s hands find purchase on a smooth, curved piece of wood. He picks it up without looking, at first intending to throw whatever it is as hard as he can in the bandits direction, before something (magic, instincts, periphery vision, who knows) tells him to look down.

He obeys, and widens his eyes as he sees the longbow gripped tightly in his right hand, and a stray arrow on the floor next to his left.

Merlin is no expert, only having actually hunted once or twice back home in Ealdor, when he was younger, but that was just enough knowledge for him to know roughly how to notch the arrow and fire. He pulls the two up quickly, a plan formulating in his head:

Step 1) Notch arrow.

Step 2) Close eyes.

Step 3) Magic? Hope?

Step 4) Come up with some sort of lie that explains how he managed to make the shot from sixty yards away, through a crowd.

Thankfully, it would appear that Merlin’s bad luck has given him a rest today; the first three steps go off without a hitch (the fourth will come a little later, when the battle is over), but he doesn’t have time to congratulate himself before he’s thrown into the fray, the bandits now obviously seeing him as some sort of threat.

Arthur finally defeats his own attackers, looking behind him in shock to see his unknown enemy lying on the floor, gurgling up blood and grasping weakly at the arrow through his neck. His head whips to the side, trying to find whoever had made the shot; his bewildered gaze meets Merlin’s for only a second before the servant is dragged to his feet, and promptly punched in the face.

He stumbles back and can just about hear Leon yell something from beside him but he pays it no mind, righting his balance once again and swinging his arm back, before bringing it down harshly on his newest attackers head. The resounding crack echoes over the field as the wood of the longbow splits in two on the bandit’s skull, and he drops like a sack of potatoes.

The fight doesn’t last much longer, each knight taking advantage of their enemies' fatigue, and Merlin using his now broken longbow to whack them in the shins or trip them up when they weren’t paying attention.

He was sad to see it broken, but two of his closest friends literally owned a blacksmith's, and he had easy access to the Castle’s armoury; he could get a hold of another one easily enough, as long as he survived the journey back home.

The battle finally came to a close. Everyone was exhausted, and each of them was sporting more than one hefty bruise, but they were all alive and there were no serious injuries, so they could be grateful for that. After Arthur had counted his men, and generally taken stock of things, he traipsed tiredly over to Merlin, who had abandoned his broken bow in favour of cleaning a still weeping cut on Elyan’s temple.

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Merlin.”

The servant ignores him at first, biting his lip in concentration as he carefully wipes the grime away from the wound. It was small, so an infection wouldn’t be too worrying, but it wouldn’t be comfortable and would make the scarring worse, so best to avoid it if at all possible. He hums in satisfaction as he leans back on his heels, Elyan gives him a grateful smile, and Merlin finally throws a glance Arthur’s way, before focusing back on threading the needle in his hands; it would only need two or three stitches, thankfully:

“Hmm. I'm not fond of hunting, but we had to for food back in Ealdor. Except we didn’t have fancy crossbows or hunting dogs, so we had to make do with hand-whittled longbows.”

Arthur nods, frowning slightly:

“Still, if I’d known you were that good, I would’ve demanded you had a bow of your own; that way us lot wouldn’t have to spend so much time making sure you don’t get yourself killed.”

Merlin smirked and quirked an eyebrow, but doesn’t look away from Elyan’s stitches, whispering an apology at the man’s wince before he speaks slowly, concentrating:

“Careful Sire, that almost sounded like a compliment.”

Elyan snorts out a laugh, but Merlin tuts and lightly slaps his leg disapprovingly, and he stills again. Arthur rolls his eyes with a huff:

“As if. Hurry up, I want to get moving as soon as possible.”

Arthur wasn’t the only one that noticed Merlin’s outstanding shot, and over the course of the next few day’s journey home, he received a multitude of compliments from the other knights.

Including an hour long excited infodump about the history and use of longbows from Leon, which Merlin eagerly hung onto every word of, a fond smile on his face (Leon was a noble, and had it practically beaten into him to not ramble, so Merlin always did his best not to discourage the man. That, and the fact that it was actually very interesting, and useful, if he were to keep up this charade that he was an expert marksman).

When Merlin finally had a moment alone with Lancelot, a few days after they had gotten back, he burst:

“Please please tell me you know how to use a longbow??”

Lancelot raises his eyebrow from where he was sat on the bed in Merlin’s room. Merlin was staring at him with unconcealed desperation, and the knight chuckled as he answered:

“Why? It’s not like you need any more training, that was a cracking shot.”

Merlin huffed loudly, running his hands through his hair as he looked back at the knight:

“I used magic!! I closed my eyes so no one would see and I guided the arrow with magic! Now everyone thinks I’m some master marksman! This is bad. What if next time I can’t use magic, or what if someone notices that I have my eyes closed when I fire?”

Lancelot clamps a hand over his mouth in a poor attempt to stop himself from giggling, but he gives up quickly, bursting into laughter at the younger man’s panic. Said younger man fumes, sputtering as he picks up one of the knight’s discarded boots and throws it at him:

“It’s not funny, Lance! I’m being serious, this is an actual issue!”

Lancelot calms himself, rubbing the mirth from his eyes as he takes a deep breath:

“Ok ok, sorry. Yes, I can teach you to use a longbow properly. Have you ever actually used one before, or was the hunting thing a cover?”

The red fades from Merlin’s face slightly as he realises the other man is intending to help him, his panic lessening:

“Sort of. Yeah, I went hunting with a bow a couple times, but not enough to be that good at it.”

Lancelot sighs fondly and nods his head:

“Well, that’s a start at least. Come on, I’ve not got patrol until after dinner, and Arthur thinks you’re busy helping Gaius, so we’ve got a few hours.”

So I imagine that’s how it goes for a while.

After their last big adventure, Arthur was reluctant to head out as a group again, wanting to give everyone time to recuperate and get back into the swing of things.

Merlin’s skills with a bow were bought up constantly by everyone, news had even reached Gwen (who gave him a proud smile and a cute little dance to congratulate him) and Gaius (who raised an eyebrow, and had much better skill than Lancelot at holding in his laughter).

Gwaine, Elyan, and even Percival were desperate to set up targets and watch him shoot shit (their words), Leon wanted to talk about the specifics of technique and crafting, and Arthur... well. Arthur sounded like he was taking the piss, but there was something else in his tone that Merlin couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Affection? Pride?

Probably not, probably jealousy and annoyance that Merlin is so effortlessly good at something that Arthur himself was average at at best.

Merlin manages to avoid it for a while, showing his “skills” off, but he and Lancelot are running out of excuses, and Arthur is starting to accuse him of being a fake who got lucky. Normally, things like that didn’t bother Merlin, and technically Arthur wasn’t wrong... he had got lucky, and cheated with magic, but that wasn’t the point. It was nice for Merlin, to be good at something, really good.

He was good at plenty of other things. Magic for starters, though not even Lancelot knew the full extent of his power in that area. But he cooked well (shown by the fact that the knights always scoffed the lot), he was a good physician (shown by the fact that the knights trusted him just as much as Gaius when it came to treating injuries and sickness), and he was a BRILLIANT servant, if he did say so himself.

But he never got any actual praise for that. Merlin hated to think badly of the knights, his friends, but they only complained when Merlin wasn’t there, never praised him when he was. Well, apart from Lancelot. And that had just started a bunch of rumours that they were... uh... boinking.

(False. Anyone with more than two braincells could see that Sir Lancelot was head over heals in love with the newly-promoted Housekeeper, Guinevere, and that The King’s Manservant had an affinity for certain a blond prat-King.)

ANYWAY

It was nice for Merlin to have a skill that others thought worth complimenting, and with Lancelot monitoring his practice sessions, correcting any mistakes and offering congratulations whenever he did well, he hoped it wouldn’t be too long before he no longer had to come up with excuses.

Luckily, Merlin picked it up very quickly.

Despite being clumsy by nature (though Lancelot is starting to suspect more and more that it’s all for show), the dark haired servant can consistently hit bullseyes from fifty yards within a month. The further away from the target he got, the less astounding his aim was, but that was to be expected, and another month later he could successfully hit a moving target from seventy feet.

A training session, around three months after he started properly practicing, he finally “gave in” to Gwaine’s begging. Lancelot helped him set up a bunch of targets, and fetched a bag of apples to throw.

Merlin put on quite the show, grinning at the uproarious applause he got from the knights when he hit every single bullseye, and every single thrown target. Thankfully the knowing, proud smiles between the servant and Sir Lancelot went unnoticed, and even Arthur gave him a clap on the back and an impressed nod.

The first time Merlin met the knights in the courtyard to find Leon holding a longbow and quiver of arrows out to him, he panicked slightly, but one reassuring smile from Lancelot boosted his confidence, and he took them with a quiet thank you.

(After the fifth time, Arthur huffed, and told him to just keep them. He was the only one that regularly signed them out of the armoury anyway, so it would just be easier if he just took possession of them.)

It settled everyone’s stomachs, knowing that not only did the group have a master marksmen, hiding in the trees and taking out enemies that they didn’t see coming, but that Merlin personally now had more than his frankly horrifying (or... horrifying as far as they were concerned) stealth skills to keep him safe.

And that (a master marksmen in the trees) is exactly what happened.

In the early days, it involved a lot of bruises; Merlin could fire well, but firing and balancing at the same time? Took some getting used to, and involved a lot of falling out of trees at inopportune times.

The knights, Gwaine and Arthur especially, laughed endlessly at that, but quickly stopped after a particularly tired and irate and bruised Merlin fired an arrow so close by Gwaine’s crotch, that it stuck his trousers fast into the tree just behind him.

At first, it was meant to be just as back-up; Merlin was no knight. He still refused to wear armour, and Arthur didn’t want his manservant to make himself a target... at least that was his excuse.

Really, it was because (as far as Arthur was aware) Merlin had never deliberately killed before. Even now, years into his Kingship, and even longer into his knighthood, Arthur hated killing; it made him sick, and took a lot of practice at compartmentalization before it no longer bothered him as much.

Merlin was his manservant, his (best) friend, the love of his life (secretly). He was not a warrior, he was not meant to kill, he was meant to be protected from that.

But alas, Merlin did not get the memo, and the first patrol he went on with his bow and quiver slung over his shoulder, he killed at least five bandits.

After the fight, it was Leon who approached him first, a concerned look on his face despite Merlin’s nonchalant expression as he checked over the string for wear and tear:

“Are you feeling alright, Merlin? You got a few good shots in there, you’re not feeling sick?”

Merlin looked up at the hand on his shoulder and the soft words, a confused look on his face:

“Why would being good make me feel sick?”

Leon tilts his head in sympathy, which just makes Merlin even more confused:

“The man you killed the other month was spur of the moment, protecting your King. But you... you killed a fair few men today, Merlin. I know that can be incredibly difficult at first, I just wanted to check in.”

The others had finally walked over to join them; Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and Arthur looking equally concerned, whilst Lancelot hid his proud smile. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at them:

“You seem to be under the impression that I’ve never killed anyone before?”

Everyone (bar Lancelot) looks taken aback at that, and Arthur frowns whilst Leon drops his hand in shock. The King speaks slowly:

“Merlin, are you telling us you’ve killed people before?”

The manservant clenches his jaw at that and looks back down at his bow, resuming his checking of the string and its knots. He speaks lowly, and the knights can tell it’s not a topic he’s fond of:

“Hmm. It’s a tough world, Sire. I’ve done what I had to, to keep myself and the people I care about safe.”

At his dark reply, conversation stopped, and didn’t resume for the rest of the day as everyone contemplated Merlin’s words.

That is, until he was the first one to successfully catch dinner later that evening. At which he got an incredulous look from Arthur when he made it back to camp with his half of the patrol:

“I thought you despised hunting??”

Merlin didn’t look up from the hares he was skinning, and the rest of the knights tuned in, curious:

“No. I hate hunting for sport; it shows hubris and cruelty. Hunting for food is not only necessary and natural, but humbling, if you do it right and honour every part of the creature.”

Arthur, ever the eloquent one, stared at him blankly, and said, rather dumbly:

“...What?”

Merlin huffed, finally looking up:

“Going after helpless animals on horseback with crossbows and hunting dogs is like giving yourself a huge pat on the back for winning a tournament against an unarmoured, unarmed, unconscious opponent, and then calling yourself strong and brave for daring to fight in the first place. It’s an egotistical act of violence for no other reason than cruelty for the sake of cruelty.-”

The knights looks on him with shock, Percival and Leon at least having the decency to look a little ashamed. Merlin looks back down to the hares, and everyone notices the careful way he cuts at the fur:

“I’ve taken these lives to feed us as a necessity. The meat will be eaten, but that isn’t all. I’ll take the bones home for Gaius, the marrow is useful in a lot of medicine. The fur can be repurposed for winter gloves or socks. The organs and other bits that we won’t eat: I’ll take for the pigs in the farms, or the dogs up at the castle. In using every part of them we are... honouring them, in a way. As a thank-you for their... sacrifice.”

Arthur looks a little dumbfounded. As royalty, he of course had never really considered the waste that comes about with hunting, but Merlin, a farm-boy from a rural village who barely scraped by every winter? Of course he saw a deeper meaning in hunting. He would have to.

Elyan is the first to break the silence:

“You almost sound religious, Merlin.”

Merlin looks up at him, a strained smile on his face. As magic incarnate, he has a particularly strong, temperamental relationship with nature and her creatures, a bond that some might call faith. To be wasteful or cruel in any way hurts him in more ways than one:

“Not really, I just have respect for nature, is all.”

No one mentions the thinly-veiled insult, but everyone creeps closer, wanting to see the way he disassembles the creatures for future reference.

It’s been eight months since that first, perfect shot.

Merlin’s skills with a longbow had become a normal, expected part of The Gang’s experiences, but the knights never stopped praising and thanking him when he saved their lives (something that Merlin still hadn’t quite gotten used), and The King had apparently not stopped thinking about it for barely more than a second.

Yule was approaching quickly: Merlin, Gwen, and the Steward being constantly busy with preparations in the castle, the knights being run off their feet escorting emergency aid to the border villages for the harsh winter, and Arthur himself having every minute of the day taken up with speech writing, invite sending, and his other general King-during-Yule duties.

That however, was all to be expected, and of course did nothing to keep Arthur and Merlin from their annual traditions.

It wasn’t official, it wasn’t even spoken of, but the last evening of Yule, the night before the new year, the two of them always spent together.

The last feast of the year would finish, Arthur would stay to see his guests off, thank the staff for all of their hard work, and finally retire to his chambers, his tired manservant barely a hair’s breadth behind him. They would sit in front of the lit hearth (in comfy chairs that only they used), work their way through a jug or two of wine, exchange small gifts, and fall asleep in front of the fire. Their hands, dangling over the side of their chairs, seem to be creeping closer and closer with each passing year; though have yet to become entangled by morning.

This year was somehow no different, and very different, at the same time.

The King and his Manservant settled in their chairs, tired and already a little more than tipsy from the wine drunk during the feast. Arthur looked up at Merlin, the fond smile dropping from his face when he sees the other man’s features pulled into a contemplative frown:

“What’s on your mind, Merls? I don’t think I’ve seen you this serious since the start of the celebrations.”

Merlin looked up at him suddenly, his eyes wide, but he smiles and shakes his head:

“Nothing, nothing. Just thinking is all.”

Normally, Arthur would raise an eyebrow and let a scathing tease on the state of Merlin’s intelligence fall from his lips, but not tonight. This is the only night of the year that The King allows himself to entertain the idea that perhaps he and Merlin were more than friends, or at least could be. So instead he resumes his smiling, and looks back to the fire, taking another sip of his wine before responding softly:

“What about?”

Merlin hums, copying Arthur’s wine-sipping, before taking a deep breath:

“The future, mostly. You, me, Camelot. Secrets and truths, and when one might turn into the other. Soon, I think... yeah. Soon.”

Arthur huffs slightly in amusement. He knows that Merlin hides a great deal of himself, but he always becomes more cryptic after a few glasses of wine, like he desperately wants to say something and doesn’t have the power to stop himself from hinting at whatever it may be.

He asks his next question good-naturedly, a smile sweetened by wine gracing his face:

“The hell does that mean?”

Merlin lets out a short laugh, looking up at the other man:

“Oh, you know. Thinking about spilling all my deepest darkest secrets to you, at some point soon.”

Arthur snorts, saying, only for the sake of keeping up the charade they’ve built:

“You don’t have any secrets, Merlin. Certainly not any that are deep or dark.”

Once, Arthur would have believed that. Then, when he stopped believing it, he was angry about it, and now? Now, he finds he doesn’t mind so much. He is confident, he has faith, in both himself and in Merlin. He knows that those secrets are there, and Merlin knows that he knows, but that’s ok. Nothing either of them could reveal would tear them apart, at least not for long, so Arthur was happy to wait until Merlin was happy to share.

Merlin chuckled at Arthur’s response, shaking his head slightly before reaching down and picking up a small wrapped parcel that he’d stowed away before the feast:

“Come on, I’m a little nervous about your gift this year, so let’s get it over and done with.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the change in subject, and set his wine down so he could pick up the (much bigger) parcel by his own chair.

Merlin raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. After the first gift-exchange happened, Merlin had put his foot down and made Arthur swear to not go overboard on the expense side of things. Arthur may have been a prince, and now a King, but Merlin was still just a servant/physician; he could hardly afford anything worthy of a King.

He had a feeling that Arthur might’ve broken his word this year, but where Arthur had likely gone overboard with expense, Merlin had definitely gone overboard with sentimentality.

They swapped parcels, Merlin placing the large, heavy box carefully at his feet as he gestured Arthur to open his first. Arthur got to it, tearing the paper off without a second of hesitation, and Merlin allowed himself to smile fondly at the child-like excitement on the blonde’s face.

Arthur’s brow creased as he dropped the paper to the floor, stroking soft fingers over the worn leather of an old, well-loved book. Merlin took deep, fortifying breaths as Arthur carefully opened the first few pages, butterflies in his stomach as Arthur’s eyes wandered the yellowed paper in curiosity.

The King looked up at him, amused confusion on his face as he asked:

“Is this yours? I didn’t know you could draw, Merlin.”

Merlin gulped, and shook his head as memories of the exquisite sketches filled his mind; detail-perfect renditions of the castle, the town square, waterfalls and knights in action and people that Merlin didn’t recognise (for the most part. Arthur evidently hadn’t gotten to any of the pages with young Uther on them).

“No, not mine. This one requires a little explanation-”

Arthur nodded, carefully closing the book and holding it protectively in his lap as he gave Merlin his undivided attention:

“-I mentioned off-handedly to Leon a few months ago that I thought the lack of... of paintings of the late Queen in the castle was odd.-”

Arthur gulped at the mention of his mother, but nodded with a small smile when Merlin paused:

“-He said that when she passed, The King had everything to do with her moved to the vaults. He couldn’t force himself to destroy any of it, but looking at it, day in and day out, was too painful. We found the keys, with the help of Geoffrey, and went down to have a look, see what we could find. We didn’t tell you about it because we didn’t want to disappoint you, in case we couldn’t find anything.-”

Merlin once again looked a little nervous at this, and reached a hand out towards Arthur. When the man didn’t flinch away (if anything, he leaned into it), he moved to grip his shoulder blade, running his thumb over the exposed skin at the base of The King’s neck.

“-We found... a lot. Old clothes and paintings mainly, some jewellery. But then I found that;-”

He nodded at the book in Arthur’s lap, and tightened his grip on his shoulder. Merlin spoke his next words so quietly that Arthur almost doesn’t hear him, a soft smile on his face:

“-your mother was quite the artist, Arthur. I knew you had to have it.”

Arthur gasped softly, his eyes widening as he looked down at the book:

“You... you think my mother drew these?”

Merlin smiled at him, moving his hand to squeeze Arthur’s wrist slightly, before dropping it entirely:

“Check the back page.”

Arthur took a deep breath before doing what Merlin said, handling the book with even more care than he had before now that he knows who it belonged to. He turned to the very last page, to see an inscription written in beautiful cursive. Merlin recited it aloud, having memorised the words weeks ago:

“My dearest son, my silly sketches are able to hold only a fraction of our Kingdom’s beauty. I know one day that you will see what I see, treasure it just as much, and make it your own. You have my support, forever and always, your loving Mother.”

Arthur bites his lip harshly, lifting the book to press his forehead against the words as he shuts his eyes tightly, though that does nothing to stop the tears. Merlin replaces his hand on The King’s shoulder as the man shakes. He sniffles slightly, putting the book back in his lap, though keeping his hands wrapped around it securely, as he looks to Merlin:

“Merlin, I... I don’t even know what to say. This is... amazing. I... Thank you.”

Merlin smiles, shaking his head slightly:

“Technically, it wasn’t even mine to give, it’s always been yours. But I thought it might make a nice surprise. There’s plenty of other stuff down there, I’ll show you in the morning.”

Arthur nods his head, wiping his tears as he carefully places the book on his side table and gestures to the box at Merlin’s feet. He was itching to scour through the book, dedicating every single line to memory, but whilst Merlin had been nervous about Arthur’s gift, Arthur was buzzing about Merlin’s, and he was desperate to see the man’s reaction.

Merlin huffs out a laugh, but picks the box up, noting once again how heavy it is. He sets about removing the paper, much calmer and more methodical than Arthur had been, with his face pinched in concentration.

He frowns in curiosity as he sets eyes on the wooden box. It had a hinged lid, and a logo that he’s certain he recognises burned like a brand into the corner. He can feel Arthur bouncing in his chair slightly, and looks up at him in amusement, laughing once again when he nods excitedly back down at the box.

He lifts the lid, and takes in a shocked breath.

Inside was a beautifully crafted long bow; the wood smooth and varnished and carved, and a leather quiver. The patterns embossed in the leather and carved in to the metal at the base, match those carved into the wood of the bow, and Merlin traces soft fingers over the intricate swirls, stopping with a teary smile at the Pendragon crest, carved just next to a Merlin bird.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding as he looks up at the excited King:

“Arthur this is beautiful. Gods I almost don’t want to touch it, I feel like it should be on display behind glass.”

Arthur lets out a laugh, obviously pleased with Merlin’s reaction:

“Nope. It will be going with you every time you leave the city, and considering how much trouble we always seem to attract, I have no doubt that it will see a lot of use.”

Merlin laughs, closing the lid carefully and setting the box back on the floor, before launching himself bodily at Arthur. The blonde laughs, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s middle with no hesitation as the other man mutters endless thank-yous in his ear.

The servant finally pulls back, settling in his own chair again, and the two of them hope that the other puts the flush on their face down to the wine, and nothing else. They look to each other with wide grins on their faces, and Arthur breaks the stare first, taking another gulp of his wine before laughing jovially and speaking:

“Well. Here’s to an amazing year, and hopefully an even better one, starting in a few minutes.”

Merlin nods, lifting his own goblet to tap it against Arthur’s:

“Here’s to the past, that guides us-”

He gestures to the book on Arthur’s table:

“-and the future, that calls to us.”

He gestures to his new bow, and they both finish their wine off, a healthy flush to their cheeks and fond smiles on their faces.

They fall asleep in their respective chairs, the same as every year.

In the morning, they wake with pounding headaches, a promise of a golden future, and hands intertwined.

THE END!!

We love a cutesy/hopeful ending😌

Like always lads, you wanna write it out in full, go for it, credit and tag me✌️

Head over to This List to see what I’m working on next, and cast your vote!

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rosedavid · 4 years ago

Note

Ooh ... Childhood toy for the Merthur prompt please

Thank you for the prompt!!! I got too carried away on this one so I posted it on AO3

Here’s the link

however, in case someone wants to read it on tumblr, I’ll post it here too :)

...

Merlin heaves up the final crateful of his stuff. He looks over the tiny, ramshackle room fondly, a smile gracing his lips. It’s strange seeing it completely bare again, just like the day he first arrived in Camelot. Things were so different back then. Merlin never would have expected to be where he is today in his wildest dreams, yet here he is moving into the King’s bedchambers not as a servant, but as a companion. Despite his happiness about officially moving in with Arthur, leaving his old room is bittersweet. So many memories were made in this little room, from trying to turn a stone dog into a real one to clumsily trying to hide his spell book when Arthur came rampaging in unannounced. With one last glance and a deep breath, Merlin closes the door for the last time.

Merlin runs into Gwen on his way to Arthur’s (or, he supposes, his and Arthur’s) chambers. She’s long been promoted as a key advisor to the King, a position well deserved. Her affections have been stolen by Lancelot once again, and the two have been courting for quite some time. It’s obvious to everyone how besotted they are for each other.

“Finished moving in yet?” Gwen asks.

“Last crate,” Merlin responds. “Shouldn’t you still be in the council meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

Technically, Merlin is supposed to be at the meeting. As Court Sorcerer, attending all meetings and royal functions is in his job descriptions. However, he skives off enough so that when a meeting is particularly boring, Arthur doesn’t even nag him into going realizing it’s a futile effort. Not to mention, today’s meeting was supposed to be especially dull. Arthur constantly reprimands him about his complaints, saying that “All meetings are equally important to the King.” Of course, they both know that’s not true, especially when Arthur continuously sends looks at Merlin throughout the meeting.

“Well, you know me,” Merlin shrugs. “But I actually have permission from the Royal Prat today. I’ve been so busy recently with these new magic laws that I’ve hardly had time for a break, let alone to move all my things into Arthur’s chambers.”

“Are you nervous?”

A few months ago, Merlin may have said yes. Despite him and Arthur being as close as they were for so long, a romantic relationship brought with it a lot more awkwardness and learning than either of them expected. It took some trial and error before they got back into a rhythm again and felt completely comfortable around each other. Now, though, Merlin can safely say that he’s not nervous about moving in with Arthur officially. It just feels…right.

“No, I’m not,” Merlin replies. “Although, I’m not looking forward to Arthur’s inevitable complaints about my stuff sharing his space.”

Gwen stifles a laugh. “He’ll get used to it, but he’ll never stop complaining.”

“Exactly. But you still haven’t answered my question. Did you leave because the council meeting is over?”

“Just about. I made an excuse of having a headache, which was about to be true if I stayed in there for any longer.”

“I bet Lancelot tried to carry you down to Gaius himself,” Merlin teases.

“I had to swear to him that I would go straight there multiple times before he let me out of his sight.”

They laugh together. Merlin adjusts his grip on the crate as it begins to slip out of his arms.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I totally forgot that you were still carrying that.”

“I’m strong Gwen, remember?” Merlin jokes. “Don’t worry about it. I always like talking to you. We need to catch up soon.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

They part ways. Merlin finishes his trek, a trek that he’s taken so many times before. Still, this time feels different. This time, he’s entering his room as well. He doesn’t have to worry about knocking or barging in unexpectedly (not that he ever worried about that before). Merlin kicks open the door with his foot, nodding at the guard that’s stationed outside.

He drops the crate with a thud next to the bed and looks around. Arthur’s chambers don’t look much different even with Merlin moved in. Merlin never had much stuff to begin with. In fact, most of his things came from Arthur eventually. A new wardrobe, nicer blankets and pillows, and even a magic book he came across while traveling. Still, his stuff is nothing compared to the grandeur of Arthur’s possessions. Of course, it doesn’t bother Merlin. He has everything he needs as long as they’re together.

Merlin finishes unpacking the crate, storing some books away and folding some cloaks. Then, suddenly, that’s it; he’s all moved in. He lives with Arthur. He gets to go to sleep and wake up every morning at Arthur’s side. They can eat breakfast together without Merlin having to walk across the castle and meet him every morning.

The door opens behind him. He turns and sees Arthur dressed regally, cape flowing behind him. He looks brave and fearless and powerful, as any King should. When he looks at Merlin, though, his expression melts into one of softness and adoration.

“Is that the last of it?” Arthur asks.

“Yup. I’m officially moved in! You’re stuck with me,” Merlin says, poking his side.

“Hmm,” Arthur contemplates. “Are you sure it’s too late?”

“Too late.”

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just have to make the most of it.”

With that, Arthur swoops in and kisses Merlin. A gloved hand cups Merlin’s face, while Arthur’s other hand sneaks down to the dip in his spine, tracing over it. Merlin’s hands fly up to Arthur’s hair, knotting his fingers in the tresses. Arthur’s mouth tastes like the watered down wine the castle staff serves during most meetings. Soon, Arthur starts backing Merlin toward the bed, and Merlin giggles when the back of his knees hit the frame. Arthur starts trailing kisses down his neck, just about to push Merlin down onto the bed when he suddenly stops, staring at something behind Merlin.

“Arthur? What’s wrong?”

“What is that thing?” Arthur asks incredulously, pointing toward their bed. Merlin cranes his neck behind him to see what Arthur is pointing at.

It’s Merlin’s stuffed bear. Beary, to be precise. Merlin has had him since he was a baby. According to his mum, the stuffed bear was always Merlin’s favorite toy. He remembers toting it around with him everywhere, especially before he met Will. It was a comfort object, something to keep him company when he felt most lonely. It helped him through a lot of dark times. Many nights, he remembers crying himself to sleep after being constantly rejected by the rest of the village. He would hold the bear tight to his chest all night long, refusing to let go. Now, it’s more of a comfort just to have it near. He brought it to Camelot with hardly any hesitation, as it was something familiar in a completely new place. He’s never thought to get rid of it, despite it being completely worn down and falling apart He’s had to resew Beary numerous times, yet the stuffing inside of him always seems to come out, and the button eyes always seem to be missing.

“That’s Beary, my childhood toy,” Merlin says simply.

“And why pray tell is it on our bed?”

“He is on our bed because he that’s where he belongs.”

Arthur stares at him. “You’re kidding, right? Why do you even have that thing, anyway?”

“He was my favorite toy when I was a child, Arthur,” Merlin explains, picking Beary up gently. “He always brought me comfort when I most needed it. I don’t know if you knew this, but I didn’t really have friends growing up besides Will. I was pretty much ostracized from the rest of the village. I guess you could say he was a friend of sorts.”

“And you brought him to Camelot.”

Merlin shrugs. “He still brings me comfort, when I look of him, and he reminds me of Ealdor and my mum. Plenty of people still have their childhood toys.”

“Girls, maybe.”

“Hey! Toys are for everyone. Didn’t you have a favorite toy when you were little?”

Merlin sits down on the bed and puts his bear back in the center against the pillows. Arthur sits down next to Merlin, so close that their shoulders and thighs touch.

“I did have a toy sword,” Arthur muses. “Father wanted me to start training to be a knight as early as possible.”

Merlin’s eyebrow furrows. “You didn’t have any stuffed animals? Or blocks? Or puppets?”

“I had books on Camelot and royal etiquette.”

Suddenly, Merlin feels a bit guilty. Although he knows Arthur’s life has been anything but easy, oftentimes he forgets some of the struggles he’s had to deal with. Merlin’s childhood was nothing to boast about, but he was relatively happy. He had his mother by his side, a loving and caring figure. He had his needs taken care of, as well as they could be for a peasant. He eventually came to have Will, his best friend. Back then, Merlin knew nothing about his destiny. Arthur, on the other hand, has known about his destiny to become King since the day he was born. And Uther was anything but a sweet, loving father. Arthur has told him stories before about leading raids as a teenager, killing while he himself was still a boy. Yet somehow, Merlin never considered that he didn’t ever have a childhood even though it makes sense.

“Well, since you’re sharing your chambers with me, I can share Beary,” Merlin offers with a grin.

“I’ll pass,” Arthur says dryly.

“Come on! He’ll be your beary best friend!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Arthur laughs.

“I’m sorry, Arthur, but Beary and I are a package deal. You can’t have one without the other.”

Arthur suddenly tackles Merlin against the bed, playfighting with him as they laugh. It doesn’t take long for them to eventually tire, though, leaving Arthur to collapse beside Merlin as they lean up against the pillows.

“I think the bear is more appealing at this point,” Arthur jokes.

Merlin mock frowns, reaching over Arthur to pick Beary back up. He nuzzles the bear’s face against Arthur’s neck, pouting at Arthur’s previous expression.

“Well I think you’re unbearable,” Merlin huffs, unable to keep a straight face for long. Arthur snorts, grinning with him.

Beary is then taken carefully from his hands and brought under Arthur’s scrutinizing gaze. “Why in the world would you name him Beary? That’s the worst possible name I could think of!”

“I can think of one worse name.”

“You’re just so funny, Merlin.”

Arthur then takes the bear in his hands and places it face down on his nightstand. He pulls Merlin’s body flush against his own. Thankfully, Arthur has forgone his armor for the afternoon, making it much more comfortable.

“Why did you do that?” Merlin asks, referring to his bear.

“Because I don’t want him to see this next part,” Arthur grins, causing Merlin to blush. He joins lips with Merlin again breathily, but Merlin pulls back before they can do much else.

“Does that mean Beary can stay?” Merlin asks smugly.

Arthur rolls his eyes, but it’s followed with a smile.

#merthur #merthur fanfic #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur fanfiction #fanfiction #merlin bbc #fluff

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romioneficfest · 5 years ago

Text

Halloween at the Burrow

Title: Halloween at the Burrow

Prompt/Day: Day 8 · Skirt

Tumblr name:

Rating: K

Brief summary: Halloween has been a yearly affair at the Burrow ever since Teddy Lupin declared it was his favorite holiday, and this year is no exception. Harry and Ron, with little Rose in tow, are convinced they have the best costume this year— but their wives may give them some competition.

“It’s perfect,” Ron snickered under his breath, slowly pulling on the black skirt over his gangly legs. “Oh, Harry, this is bloody genius, they’ll never see this coming.”

“Keep it down, Ron,” said Harry, though he was also trying his hardest to stifle a giggle as he struggled to pull on the tight khaki Quidditch pants. “Last thing we need is for them to come snooping ‘round and find out before it’s time.”

“It’s bloody brilliant, I tell you,” said Ron enthusiastically, now shaking on a black top. “Blimey, I think this is the most excited I’ve been for Halloween in a while.”

Halloween at the Burrow had become a yearly affair ever since Teddy Lupin, in a shock of bright blue hair, declared it was his favorite holiday because it was the only day of the year he could freely Metamorph without earning some weird looks his way. Of course, Ron thought fondly, it may just also be the only day of the year the bugger knows he can outdo us all: having grown up between magic, Teddy whined constantly about not being able to do with his wand what he saw his family do, and telling him that he’d be able to do it when he went to Hogwarts seemed to be of little comfort. This was the one are where he knew he could do something not even Aunt Hermione’s strongest Disillusionment charms could measure up to.

So the greatest event of the night was always seeing what Teddy had chosen to Metamorph into. Last year, he’d appeared as a porky, greasy short boy with a piggy nose and a nasty shock of blond hair, inspired —as he’d told them— by how “Uncle Harry always tells me about that mean boy from when he was my age”, and Harry had had to leave the room wheezing at how well Teddy had incarnated Dudley. This year, Ron thought, he’d do something less revolting: he’d noticed him staring at Victoire, whose usual fairy attire accentuated her long silver-blond hair, and he thought this year he may go for impressing her.

Arthur and Molly always paired up and went as a variety of Muggle character duos, which Hermione happily kept supplying when they looked for new ideas: Archie (which paired nicely with the hair) and Betty, Gomez and Morticia Addams, Sherlock Holmes and Watson, Fred and Velma Flintstone… They didn’t always get them 100% right, which was understandable, and Harry and Hermione didn’t have the heart to tell them they highly doubted Bonnie and Clyde would’ve approved of Molly’s bonnet.

Fleur, in an attempt to improve her English, had once purchased a thick book on the history of the United Kingdom, and had pulled images from it to dress like a new English royal every Halloween. The most notable one was where she dressed like Anne Boleyn and Bill (who always went as a rockstar, given all he had to do was wear a different band tee under his usual clothes) joked all dinner about how he was losing his head over how great she looked.

In a similar move, Hermione was partial to dressing like Jane Austen heroines, and she once had gotten Ron to don tails and a top hat to accompany her (which he’d sworn, gasping and pulling at the tight collar, he’d never do again), and she’d likely be going as one tonight. Ron found ways to dress up as every snack available at Honeydukes: a giant cardboard box became a carton of Every-Flavored Beans, a small Hover charm and some tulle made him a convincing Fizzing Whizzbee… His costume was usually Teddy’s favorite, since he was too small to understand some of the adult’s references, but candy? Oh, candy he knew. Ginny picked a different Hogwarts professor to embody every year, and so far, her McGonagall had been the most convincing, though her Flitwick had been funniest. Harry usually just wore jeans and a blue T-shirt and, to anyone who asked what he was supposed to be, he’d amusingly pull out his own Chocolate Frog card (where he was wearing the same outfit) and would say, in a mock insufferable voice, “I’m the Boy Who Lived, haven’t you heard?”

But tonight, he and Ron were switching it up. They’d gone into town and made off with a couple of wigs, some dark black women’s clothing, a Gryffindor scarf, and Quidditch robes they’d gotten at a fan store: in short, everything they needed to turn into their wives. As a two-year-old James whizzed around their legs, knocking into their ankles with the handle of a toy broom and dressed as a Hippogriff, Ron adjusted the bushy chestnut wig on his head and kept fussing with it, saying in awe, “Blimey, how does she manage with all this hair?”

“Beats me,” said Harry as he struggled to button the tight pants that’d go under the emerald robes with WEASLEY in gold on the back. “How Ginny can fit into these and still look incredible, now, that’s the real question…”

“Oi, mate, that’s my sister you’re talking about,” said Ron in faux offense, tossing a box of hairpins at him, which he caught easily.

“Also my wife,” Harry smiled, looking down at James as he made his way around them, hooting gleefully. “Say, Ron, how does it feel to be in the clothes of the brightest witch our age?”

“I wouldn’t know, just last week the instructions to building a couch stumped her,” said Ron, now draping the Gryffindor scarf around his neck. “I told her we were gonna do it with magic, but no, she said it had to be the Muggle way— granted, I almost impaled Rose last time I tried to charm a screwdriver…” he said, gesturing vaguely to Rose, who was bumbling contentedly on the bed. To complete the Hermione Granger look, her rosy toddler face was shrouded in ginger fur, part of the Crookshanks costume they’d gotten her into. “How about you, Harry? What’s it like to be the youngest player ever signed by the Holyhead Harpies?”

In response, Harry merely did a whirl to send the tail of his uniform and the tips of his long orange-red wig flying, and attempted to pose defiantly, but lost his balance and tripped back onto the bed.

“Mate,” announced Ron as he pulled Harry to his feet again, “let’s hope to Merlin she’s not that clumsy on the field, otherwise the Harpies have lost the season already.”

Giving the last finishing touches to their costumes, Ron picked up Rose and held her in the crook of his hip, bouncing her lightly: “We’re gonna give Mummy a surprise, aren’t we, Rosie? She’ll never see it coming… You ready?” he said, turning to Harry.

Harry nodded, his face split in a giddy grin, and opened the door slightly to let James whizz out on the broom— a herald of their eventual descent. Then, Rose in her father’s arms and Harry clutching a broom, they tiptoed down the stairs stealthily, careful not to send any boards creaking so their appearance could remain a surprise, containing their snickering as they imagined the look on their wives’ faces.

When, finally, they reached the landing, Ron turned for one last knowing look at Harry, cleared his throat, and put on a mock high-pitched voice as they swung into the kitchen: “Oh, Molly, do you happen to know whether Ron and Harry have come—”

He and Harry stopped cold in their tracks when they saw the sight that met them: Hermione bore a shock of red hair and an almost-exact replica of the dreadful dress robes Ron had once worn to the Yule Ball, while Ginny had appropriated Harry’s usual blue tee and jeans, drawn a lightning scar across her forehead and placed glasses on her nose, and carried baby Albus —who was lost, just like Rose was, in a sea of white feathers, the Hedwig to Ginny’s Harry— in the crook of one arm. Shocked, the two men looked at their wives with their mouths ajar, disbelieving the triumphant looks on their faces. Silence pervaded for a few more instants as the two couples (Harry and Ron in shock, Hermione and Ginny in victory) examined one another— and then shattered as they both broke out laughing at the same time.

#Romione FicFest 2020 #Fic Post #Romione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Submission #Queue Up for the Dragon #Rated K #Ace Safe

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Pushed Around

Prompt: i looooooove you protective knights Merlin drabbles from over quarantine, the frantic energy of these large children fretting over Merlin is hilarious and so precious (': would you ever write your take on the classic "a visiting knight/noble is a dickwad to Merlin but he doesn't tell anyone bc of either worries of diplomacy or something else and then when Arthur and the knights do find out they have to have a serious chat w Merlin about his priorities and self-worth?" bc,,, it would be awesome

Thanks for the req! I do love this trope...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, but can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Warnings: uhhh nobles can be dicks

Word Count: 3372

The problem with Merlin is that he doesn’t say nearly enough for all the talking he does. Honestly, the man can ramble on for hours and hours without being interrupted and never say one word about himself. He’s spoken about how Arthur sits wrong for longer than a council meeting for goodness’ sake. And yet in all that time, he’s never said a single thing about himself.

It would be impressive if it didn’t get them into nearly so many stressful situations that could’ve been avoided had he asked for help.

In fairness to Merlin, servants asking for help from anyone other than fellow servants isn’t exactly normal. In unfairness to Merlin, when has ‘normal’ ever been very high on his list of things to strive for?

They’ve all gotten fairly used to it. Merlin will be doing something and one of them will notice that perhaps there’s a…better way to do that. Or perhaps he’s doing it with a little less skill or proficiency than he normally does and gods, Merlin, how long have you been hurt for? Merlin will shrug and smile sheepishly at them and say that it’s nothing to worry about. Only Gaius seems to be immune to that, raising the Eyebrow of Disappointment and Merlin will bow his head and let him tend to whatever he’s done to himself this time. The problem is Merlin seems to know this and does all he can to avoid doing these things in front of Gaius. Which leaves the rest of them to struggle frantically to keep track of Merlin while he’s frantically keeping track of them.

But they’ve gotten used to it.

Arthur is allowed to be an absolute prat—Merlin’s words, not his—in the mornings, insisting Merlin do all sorts of ridiculously elaborate chores to assess whether he’s hurt himself, whether something’s wrong, or whether he’s done something to upset Merlin more than tossing the occasional boot at him. If Merlin doesn’t snipe back or calls him ‘sire’ unironically, something is definitely wrong and everything is on pause until they fix it. No exceptions.

Leon, as the closest thing to Arthur’s right hand aside from Merlin, takes every opportunity to stand next to him, regardless of how proper it is. Leon may not be immune to Merlin’s impish little excuses, but Merlin is not immune to the protective-older-sibling looks Leon gives him or the gentle way Leon arranges his cape so that Merlin looks even more inconspicuous behind the copious amounts of red fabric. Leon never says a word, and Merlin would never admit it, but there are times when, if you looked at them from behind, you would see Merlin reach out to clutch Leon’s cape and Leon reach to hold his hand.

Percival is not a small man. Anyone standing opposite him better think very carefully about whatever they’re about to fight over. Odds are it won’t be worth it. Often all he has to do is stand up and they’re babbling apologies or excuses. Merlin, on the other hand, is a slight man who looks as if he’s always about two seconds from tripping over his own feet. Percival makes sure to stand in front of him.

Elyan has a way with words. Not that he’s the most loquacious speaker, nor the most forceful, but he’s got a voice that makes people listen. It’s not Arthur’s authority, nor it is Uther’s unmistakable iron, but it is a quiet power. Oftentimes, people don’t seem to respect Merlin. Some go so far as to refuse to remember his name. Elyan’s never had a problem making them see reason.

Gwaine is not known for being discreet, nor is he especially reserved in demonstrating that he’s here for Merlin, not for Camelot, not for Arthur, but for Merlin. Sometimes Merlin just needs a little reminder that he’s worth fighting for, and not just because he’s fighting for something bigger than himself.

Lancelot is the only one that can actually get Merlin to talk, reliably. The man can see through Merlin’s nonsense in a way that rivals Gaius. Unlike Gaius, Merlin won’t fight him on it. It’s difficult to get Lancelot to tell the rest of them, despite what he’ll have you believe. But if Merlin looks a little happier afterward, then it’s all fine.

So yeah, they’ve gotten used to it. What they haven’t gotten used to are the people that go out of their way to make life for Merlin harder.

“There’s another tournament?” Merlin huffs as he throws the blanket over Arthur’s bed. “Didn’t you just have one?”

“That was a joust. This is a melee.”

“You’re all throwing yourselves at each other with various pieces of metal,” Merlin remarks dryly, “what’s the difference?”

Arthur rolls his eyes as he gets up, glancing out the window to see the approaching knights. There aren’t nearly as many as the last tournament, thank goodness, but that does mean that this one won’t be nearly as easily decided.

“As long as I’m not cleaning up after all of you this time…”

Arthur frowns, looking back at Merlin straightening the bed covers. “What do you mean?”

“Last time. I was working non-stop. Had another knight almost as demanding as you are.”

“I’m allowed to be demanding,” Arthur says, “you’re my servant.”

“Mhmm, sure.”

“No one else is.”

“You tell them that, sire.”

“I will. Who was it?”

Merlin shrugs. “Don’t really remember his name.”

Arthur sighs, walking forward and resting his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “Yes, you do. That’s what you say when you don’t want to tell me someone’s name.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Arthur says softly, turning Merlin to face him, “so you can tell me.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Sure it is.”

“No, it really isn’t.”

“Merlin,” Arthur huffs, “if something is wrong, you know you can tell me.”

“But nothing’s wrong!” Arthur just gives him a look until he sighs, picking up the laundry basket. “Alright, fine, his name was Tobias, are you happy now?”

“Yes, I am, thank you.” Arthur gives his shoulder another pat before moving away. “The next time he’s here, I’ll make sure you’re nowhere near him.”

As it turns out, that doesn’t go as planned. Because Sir Tobias didn’t just sign up for the joust, he’s here for the melee too.

“Arthur Pendragon,” the man roars, clapping Arthur firmly on the shoulder, “thought you’d seen the last of me, eh?”

“Thought that bruised backside you got from falling off your horse would’ve kept you away.”

Tobias throws his head back and laughs. “You’ve got spirit about you, lad. It’ll serve you well if you can hold your nerve.”

“My nerve has never failed me before,” Arthur replies cooly, gesturing up the stairs, “though I’m sure you know that by now.”

“We’ll see come the melee.”

Merlin is out of sight, helping the stablehands tend to the horses. As Arthur walks up the stairs, he sees Tobias glance around and huff softly to himself.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, no,” Tobias says quickly as they enter the hall, “just glad to see you’ve not assigned me the same servant this time.”

Arthur straightens. “Excuse me?”

“The gangly boy that tended to my chambers last time,” Tobias says, waving his hand, “right awful he was. Glad you’ve fired him.”

“I see…”

Arthur does not, in fact, see, but he makes a point to tell the knights not to let Tobias near Merlin.

As it turns out, they don’t have much of a choice. Arthur needs Merlin to help him get ready, and Tobias is of high enough rank to be near the prince as he does so. Luckily for Merlin, he just has to stay inside the tent.

Unluckily for Merlin…

“Arthur,” Gwaine calls from outside, “they need you to come look at the shields.”

Arthur gives Merlin’s arm a squeeze and steps away, ducking out of the tent. Gwaine leads him over to a table laden with shields, each with a different insignia painted on it. The Pendragon crest gleams in the light, next to the sigils from each of the other knights fighting. None of them has so much as a scratch.

“Very good, sire,” the attendant says, sweeping them along to finish the final preparations. Arthur follows Gwaine up the hill to where the others are standing, Leon turning and nodding solemnly ate his approach.

“Are all of you competing, then?” Arthur leans against the wall.

Leon shakes his head. “Lancelot and I will be sitting this one out.”

“Not growing weary are you, old friend?”

“Weary of people attempting to kill you while I’m already engaged in combat,” Leon replies wryly, “and weary of Merlin being the only one able to do anything about it.”

“They won’t listen to him when he calls for a stop to the tourney,” Lancelot adds.

“And so you can keep anyone away from him,” Gwaine says firmly.

“Precisely.”

They head back down the hill, just in time to see a flutter of movement from Arthur’s tent. Gwaine frowns, rushing forward and throwing it open.

“Merlin?”

“I’m here,” Merlin says, getting to his feet, “just fell.”

Arthur rolls his eyes fondly and reaches down to help him up. “At some point, Merlin, I do have to wonder.”

“It’s fine, I just picked up something without realizing it was attached to something else.”

“I see.”

The rest of the knights glance at each other over Arthur’s shoulder and Elyan stalks off toward a neighboring tent. Leon bows deeply and tells Merlin that he and Lancelot will wait for the others to finish their training before coming to collect him.

“There’s still a few more days to go,” Merlin says softly, “I don’t see why you all had to come here so early.”

“It’s to make it fair, give the knights the chance to get used to fighting in the same place.”

Merlin grumbles to himself as he goes about finishing up. Arthur catches him gently by the elbow as he turns to leave.

“Are you alright? Really?”

“Arthur, I’m fine. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Arthur sighs. “I would really like for one of these to go off normally for once.”

Arthur does not, in fact, get what he wants.

Not that anyone is particularly surprised that there’s a knight who managed to sneak a poisoned weapon into the training grounds, but someone clips Arthur through his armor and he winces, immediately aware that something’s wrong. Merlin spots it a mile away, because of course he does. The knight is quickly escorted away and Arthur shakes his head, calling for a search of all the knights’ belongings and weapons.

“You’d think we’d get better about this,” Lancelot mutters as he and Merlin approach, Merlin rubbing his shoulder, “and that they’d stop trying.”

“At least we caught it before the actual melee.”

“Merlin, there you are,” Gwaine says, pulling Merlin to his side, “good. Now, you and I are going to have a talk.”

“About what?” Arthur looks around. “What’s going on?”

Lancelot just mouths that they’ll be back as Gwaine sweeps them both along the corridor. Arthur brushes it to the back of his mind. That’s not the first time they’ve done something like this.

It’s the night before the melee. Merlin is late. Arthur paces up and down the length of his quarters. The knights have all vanished hours ago. Merlin is late.

A knock.

“Enter.”

Leon sweeps inside, a stony look on his face. He glances around the quarters and bites back a curse. “Merlin’s not here, is he?”

“No,” Arthur says, his blood beginning to run cold, “no, he isn’t. Where is he?”

“Gwaine and Lancelot are already looking,” Leon says, shutting the door, “but…sire, may I ask a question?”

“Always,” Arthur says immediately, “you don’t need to ask.”

“How long has Tobias been…allowed near Merlin?”

“He hasn’t,” Arthur growls, hustling down the corridor, “but what has he done?”

“He was more brazen during the joust.” Leon shoulders a door open. “But now—“

“Merlin!”

Arthur rushes forward as Merlin turns the corner. Startled, Merlin barely has time to turn all the way before Arthur’s wrapping him up in a protective arm and turning him back toward the safety of Arthur’s chambers.

“Where were you?”

“I was, um…”

Arthur bites back a curse and hurries faster, Leon hot on their heels. Along the way, they come across Elyan and Percival, coming up from the armory.

“Arthur, we need to—“ Elyan breaks off when he sees Merlin in Arthur’s arms. “Merlin?”

“My chambers,” Arthur growls, “now.”

“What about Gwaine and Lancelot?”

“They’ll find us.”

“Guys, whatever this is, it’s fine,” Merlin tries but Arthur simply opens the door to his quarters and sits Merlin down. “Really!”

“Merlin,” Leon says quietly, “where were you just now?”

Merlin glances at Arthur. Then back to Leon. “Helping Amelia.”

“And who were you helping Amelia help?”

Another glance at Arthur. Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Merlin,” he says slowly, “I need you to answer me honestly, please.”

Merlin nods, evidently a little taken aback at how soft Arthur’s voice is.

“Were you helping Amelia because she asked for your help, or were you helping her so Tobias would get angry with you instead of her?”

The silence that fills the room is more than enough of an answer.

“I’m going to kill him,” Gwaine announces, kicking open the door, “now where’s—there you are.”

“Gwaine, I—ah!”

“Don’t break him,” Lancelot chides gently as Gwaine sweeps Merlin into a hug, “he’s probably still hurt.”

“Hurt?” Arthur looks from Lancelot to Merlin. “Merlin—“

“It’s fine.”

“Can you allow us to be the judge of that,” Leon asks, settling a hand on Gwaine’s shoulder and moving him away, “please?”

“It’s just a few bruises, he doesn’t even hit that hard.”

“Not exactly helping your case here,” Gwaine snarls, stalking toward Arthur.

“Merlin.”

“…why’re you guys so upset?”

Arthur winces. Merlin looks back and forth between them.

“No…really, I don’t—I don’t understand. You lot hit me.”

“Not like that!”

“It’s fine, I don’t—“

“This isn’t fine, Merlin, you’re being hurt.”

“So?”

The room falls silent. Leon draws back as if Merlin reached out to smack him across the face. Percival bows his head as Elyan bites back a curse. Lancelot stares at Merlin like he’s grown a second head. Gwaine looks at Arthur.

Arthur’s chest clenches so painfully he fears he’s going to have to send for Gaius. Merlin…Merlin doesn’t believe that he’s worth worrying about when he’s hurt? Merlin doesn’t care that he’s getting hurt? Merlin is letting someone hurt him?

“Merlin…”

“What?” He looks around at all of them in confusion. “What it is? Why do you all look so…so…”

“Upset?” Leon tilts his head. “Because you just told us you don’t think you’re important.”

“But…this isn’t that big of a deal. It happens all the time. Why is this time any different.”

“How often,” Lancelot says, “would you say this happens then?”

“Every time there’s a tournament.”

“Every tournament,” Leon repeats quietly, “there is a knight that does this?”

“Sometimes more than one.”

“And you…let them?”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

No.

No, no, no, this isn’t right.

This isn’t right.

Merlin is the man who waltzed right up to Arthur on his first day in Camelot and told him to stop being a prat.

Merlin is the man who spat in Uther’s face as often as he could.

Merlin is the man who demanded that everyone is treated as a person, be they servant or noble or royal.

This is wrong.

“Merlin,” Arthur manages, “Merlin, of course you have a choice.”

“If I don’t do it, they’ll hurt someone else. And I’m used to it.”

“But you never should’ve gotten used to it,” Arthur cries, rushing forward and grabbing Merlin’s shoulders, “damnit, Merlin, why don’t you protect yourself?”

“I’m fine, Arthur.”

“You’re letting yourself get pushed around and beaten by someone, you’re not fine.”

“I have to put up with you, don’t I?”

Arthur burns.

Something in his chest squeezes so tight it breaks. He takes his hands off of Merlin like he’s been stung, backing up until he hits the poster of his bed. His mouth is open in shock and he can scarcely draw breath.

Merlin thinks…Merlin…did he do this to Merlin?

“I don’t understand why this is such a big deal,” Merlin is saying far, far away, “it’s not like I’m not…why’re you all looking at me like that?”

No, no, Merlin is Arthur’s Merlin, he—he’d never hurt his Merlin, he’d never—no, he hasn’t—but—Merlin—

“Arthur, are you—are you crying?”

This is Arthur’s fault. This is Arthur’s fault, isn’t it, he’s messed this up, he’s messed Merlin up, he’s ruined it—he’s ruined everything.

“Sire,” comes Leon’s—is that Leon’s?—voice from somewhere to his left, “you have to breathe, come on…”

Arthur gasps, the air burning the inside of his throat. He does it again, frantically blinking to clear his eyes. Tears stream down his cheeks—so he did start crying—as the image of Lancelot and Gwaine talking to Merlin swims into view in front of him. Merlin’s brow is furrowed and he keeps shooting concerned looks Arthur’s way.

“I never meant—“ Arthur swallows— “I never meant to hurt him. I didn’t—I never meant any of them, I—“

“Shh, sire,” Leon murmurs, “we know. Nothing is simple right now.”

“But that’s not what Arthur does,” Merlin protests, “he—is that why you guys are so worried?”

Merlin turns and flies at Arthur, hands immediately coming up to cup his cheeks and numb away his tears, muttering all the while.

“That’s not what I meant, Arthur,” he babbles, “I didn’t—I didn’t mean to—you’re not like them, I just—that’s what I’m used to, I didn’t know that there was a difference—“

“I never meant to hurt you, Merlin,” Arthur says, gripping Merlin’s arms tightly, “I just—you must believe me—“

“I do, I do—“ now Merlin’s crying too— “I just—“

“Alright, you two,” Leon hushes, gently laying a hand on both of their shoulders, “let’s have you two sit before you fall over.”

The knight guides them both to the bed, sitting them on the edge. They’re no help; they’re too busy crying and clinging onto each other.

“Now, why don’t you two have a chat, and we’ll be outside.” Leon ruffles their hair affectionately and sweeps the others out into the corridor despite Gwaine’s protests.

Arthur swallows. “I never meant to hurt you, Merlin,” he mumbles, “nor do I believe that you’re—a fool or an idiot or stupid or anything.”

He clutches Merlin tightly. “You’re important to me.”

Merlin nods. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you lot, it’s just…that was how the older boys in Ealdor treated me. I got used to it. And it always made sense.”

Arthur shakes his head furiously. “It doesn’t make sense, Merlin. They were hurting you. People are hurting you. That’s not alright. That’s awful. And I’m going to stop it.”

“You can’t just fight all the nobles who don’t like me.”

“Watch me.”

“Your father will—“

“To hell with that,” Arthur snarls, “they’re hurting you. And I won’t stand for it.”

Merlin sighs, slumping forward. Without a thought, Arthur catches him, pulling him closer and tucking his head over Merlin’s.

“…you really would fight them for me?”

“Yes, Merlin. I would. And I will.”

He feels Merlin grin against his shoulder. “You’re going to make Tobias never come back to Camelot, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #dragonbabbles #fic

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