#I teared up when Gwaine came back

[ellie-the-awesome-11]

so I listened to the new episode

[justaz]

s1ep10 will says “oh so you told arthur your secret then?…face it merlin, you’re living a lie” and i desperately need someone to say that to him again in front of arthur and the knights. shiiit au where will survives and visits merlin in camelot years later when arthur is king and they have the same argument. will turns to the peanut gallery where arthur staring at him with a raised brow and goes “how many years have you lived here merlin? and you still haven’t told him. you haven’t told any of them. you may surround yourself with people you call friends, but you are completely alone here.” and storms off.

merlin who also storms off after standing still in shock for a moment, fighting back tears bc will is right. it’s been so draining for merlin to live a life built on lies, to hide himself from his friends, to pretend to be something he’s not. all he wants is to be loved and appreciated for what he is. everyone in camelot loves the merlin he’s carefully crafted, not the merlin he is. lancelot follows after him and is his shoulder to cry on after that whole show.

the other knights are sitting around going “wtf just happened” and theorizing on this secret will mentioned. there’s also a quieter, secret conversation going on where unnamed knights plan out will’s murder for making merlin cry. anyways, lancelot tells them to drop it after they prod him for answers and call him out for being the only one of the knights to know merlin’s secret.

from then on the knights keep at least a quarter of their attention on merlin when he’s near. they watch him as if he’ll slip and say whatever his secret is out loud. gwaine keeps the most attention on merlin and is the first one to find out. he follows merlin out of the room and lowers his voice and goes “you know, i would commit regicide for you if you asked. if you came into my chambers and were like ‘gods arthur is so annoying, lets kill him’ i’d do it in a heartbeat.” he then leans in closer and whispers “and if you had magic, i wouldn’t tell. i’d probably just convince you to use it for pranks.” elyan finds them hugging in the hall, merlin crying into gwaine’s shoulder and gwaine holding back his own tears.

the other knights are slow on the uptake but all eventually get there in the end, except arthur. the king cannot for the life of him sniff out this secret the other knights found out. whats infuriating is that they had banded together in determination to figure out the secret and said they’d help guide one another to the truth once they did or just outright tell each other. instead, every time one of them figured it out and the others asked them about it, they’d just get all sullen and serious and say “it’s not my secret to tell” so arthur really has no idea

merlin has to work up the courage to face arthur and tell him himself. it takes a while. like a WHILE. like A WHILEEEE. merlin makes up with will and the other knights find out about his magic one at a time and express their support and love and apologies for all the inconsiderate and harmful things they’ve said in the past. slowly, merlin’s resolve and confidence strengthens. yet he stalls and stalls and stalls and eventually gwen and audrey the cook and even george figure him out before he can tell arthur.

he’s so nervous he ends up just letting the words fall out of his mouth, “tomorrow you have to be up bright and early for a meeting about queen annis’s visit next week also i have magic” arthur just stares at him from his bed. he’s miffed bc he was SO CLOSE to figuring it out, he knew it!! if merlin had just waited like another week or two he would’ve got there eventually. probably. also he’s been lied to but that takes back burner rn bc merlin just spoiled all the progress he made in figuring out what he’s been hiding. he throws a pillow at him and complains about it.

[star-rie]

snippet of arthur snapping to banished!merlin in s4 of my fix it au

Arthur has really been an idiot hasn’t he?

He’s not one to overthink things. Arthur has always rely on efficiency. Running a kingdom needs to be orderly. He doesn’t have time to think unnecessary things. Mundane tasks such as ironing his clothes and preparing his food are left to the servants. Kings does not have time to think of such things, let alone dispensable things.

Now he’s cursing himself for being so negligent. It should be obvious from the very beginning. Branches does not fall from the sky at proper timings, nor do fire blows up indoors, dancing up the ceilings. Arthur thought it was merely coincidence, but after running a kingdom for a year he sees now that coincidences usually happens for a reason.

Arthur felt the blowing of the wind too often on his expeditions. He knows how unidentifiable creatures shows up in the morning, in the forests of Camelot. Or how assassins made a fool of themselves, dying before they even had the chance to take Arthur’s life. And each time it happens, he always saw a blur of a figure, so quick Arthur thought he is hallucinating.

He knows Merlin is there. Hiding in the shadows, watching Arthur from every corner. He was enraged at first. How dare he? Did he really think that Arthur was that stupid not to notice his little stunts? But every time he tries to catch him, it always ended up in concerns

Guard: (in a flashback) Is everything alright my lord? Arthur: …fine

The castle staff never question his disappearance, oddly quiet of Merlin’s banishment. Guinevere didn’t talk to him for a month. He didn’t miss the glare that came from his army. Lancelot and Gwaine have always been fond of the manservant. They stopped after a few months.

Arthur thinks that the camelot notice him. And they pretend not to. But he can’t really do anything can he? Not without sounding like a lunatic. So he never addresses it. Even when it’s so blatantly obvious.

Arthur is sick of it truthfully. It reminds him of him in a way. Is it too much for them to trust him? Morgana and his father too…and now Camelot. Is it because he’s such a fool for a king?

So one night when they were on an expedition, when Arthur is sick of all the lies, and the hypocrisy and everything. Arthur sneaks out of the camp, to where the banshee is last spotted.

Arthur waits for it to come. He waited and waited, until he heard a scream, when it almost got him, it dissolves into dust, hit by a spell so powerful Arthur still feels the intensity.

Voice: It is not safe out here, go back to your camp Arthur Pendragon

Arthur: Stop taking me for a fool Merlin, I know it’s you

When there’s no reaction, he groans, drawing his sword

Arthur: COME OUT MERLIN STOP BEING SUCH A COWARD!

It was quiet for a while and Arthur screams. He thrust his sword into the ground.

Arthur: I’LL LET YOU KNOW MERLIN- THAT’S RIGHT I KNOW IT’S YOU -THAT I HATE YOU! YOU LIAR! I TOLD YOU TO NEVER APPEAR IN FRONT OF MY SIGHT EVER AGAIN! AND WHAT DID YOU DO? YOU STALK ME LIKE A CREEP! HAVE IT EVER CONCURRED TO YOU THAT THE THINGS YOU DID AREN’T NORMAL? WELL YOU ARE! DO YOU REALLY THINK I WON’T NOTICE THAT YOU’RE IN CAMELOT THIS WHOLE TIME?? YOU’RE AN IDIOT AND A INEPT INCOMPETENT RUDE BUMBLING OF A FOOL!! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU SO MUCH!!

Arthur wipes the tears that starts to fall out of his eyelashes

Arthur: I hate that you won’t go away, I hate everything about you, I hate that stupid grin of yours, I hate your attitude, I hate your stupid face, I hate that stupid haircut, I hate your tears, I hate that I think of you each night

Arthur grips the hilt of his sword, struggling to speak

Arthur: I won’t forgive you Merlin of Ealdor. For as long as I breathe I will make sure you can never go back to Camelot nor will I ever allow magic to roam free in the land. I will follow my legacy as Uther Pendragon’s son

Arthur went back to the camp. He feels warm despite the cool winter air and his heart feeling like lead.

When morning came, there are no more banshees. Arthur saw a cloaked figure behind the trees, watching.

[hopelessromantic5]

Love in All Its Forms

Merlin liked to think he knew quite a bit. He's all of twenty and four, now. He's learned so much information in the last three years, his head feels it might explode. Only the magic of the Earth itself still holding him together.

But there were always reasons to keep going. Camelot, her people, that needed protection. His family, his friends, Hunith, Gwen, Lance, Gwaine, Leon, Elyan. They've all become a part of him now.

Merlin also liked to think he knew a lot about love. He was easily capable of feeling a love that passes between two people. Each different than the last.

For example, the love between Gwen and her brother Elyan was that of a comrade, a brother in arms. They teased and poked and worried feircly. As opposed to the love that Merlin can see slowly growing between Gwen and Lancelot. Theirs is a quiet feeling. But no less intense. They communicate with silent looks and soft touches. When they are together, their eyes never dim.

In his mind, Merlin considers this oddity as just another power in his arsenal. He can see love before the lover's even notice. Like Gwaine and Percival, for instance.

Gwaine is…a complicated person. That may be the understatement of the century, but there are many things that Gwaine never lets see the light of day. A brave knight in the face of his own memories, out of neccesity. Merlin would try his damndest at the beginning to get any information out of him at all, about his past, or his hurt. But Gwaine insisted he was fine, and Merlin wouldn't want to hear it. That was, until Percival came along with Lancelot, and Gwaine bloomed like a flower in spring.

Percival was shy, something that Gwaine latched onto immidiately. He always had a thing for the quiet ones. The gentle giant favored hanging around the stables or the royal kennels, looking after dogs and brushing down the horses in his down time. Merlin has caught Gwaine watching Percival on more than one occasion, but said nothing. Never bringing attention to the unspoken connection they seem to have. After all, Merlin couldn't judge either of them a bit.

In a group setting, Gwaine was still his boistorous, frankly blunt self, and in turn, he pulled Percival out of his shell. They would huddle together in council meeting, or close in the tavern, whipsering about training, or gambling, or just their days. Merlin does try not to eavesdrop, but its nearly impossible when he can feel the waves of affection rolling off of them and out into the room, making everyone around them, unknowingly, softer.

Even Arthur.

Oh, god.

Arthur. King Arthur. The Once and Future King of Albion.

A royal, supercillois prat with a heart of gold and hair to match.

Anywhere he went, he arrived like the sun each morning. Beautiful and regal and breathtaking. Merlin nearly choked on it.

Morgana would call him a hypocrite, if she were here. She went to stay with the druids shortly following the death of Uther. After Arthur was settled into Kingship, she said her tearful goodbyes and promised to return in the winter for Yule.

Before leaving, she hugged Merlin fiercly and whispered into his shoulder "Take care of yourself. And him." He did not need to ask who 'he' was. "You're the only person in the world that makes him truly happy."

With that, she took her leave. Stepping away from a sad, shell-shocked Merlin.

"She will return soon, Merlin." The King's voice pulled him out of his thoughts and back into the royal chambers. How had he known what Merlin was thinking of?

"I know, sire." He nodded, resolute to not look at the King in his private, sleepy state. "I just miss her, is all."

"As do I." Came a quiet response. "She was always better at this part." He shuffled parchments on the desk. "The paperwork and the delegating."

"She would vehemenately disagree." Merlin chuckled lowly, still staring at the pile of clean clothes he has yet to sort.

"That she would." Arthur's voice sounds far away, which caused Merlin to look up at him, only to find the King watching him do absolutely nothing. He almost couldn’t breathe. His magic rising up in his throat any time Arthur looks his way, these days.

"Are you…" the golden King began, unsure. Merlin's eyebrows pinched slightly. "Do you and Morgana-"

"No!" He practically shouted into a very quiet room, causing him to flinch at his own blunder. "I mean… no." He tried again, calmer. "She is very beautiful and kind, but it's not like that. It's just that…" he sighed, looking down at that same pile of clothes, trying to find the right words.

"She's a high preistess. Extremely, naturally, powerful. While there are other magical users now in residence here, it's not quite the same. The druids and everyone, they all look to me as some kind of…" He trailed off.

"God." Arthur finished for him. "They see you as a god."

"Well, yes." To busy his hands, he finally began sorting different piles. "Morgana was someone with magic who understood that I am not, completely, the immortal of legend. She's been to Ealdor, she's seen where I used to put my hands into the Earth and grow vegetables in the winter so that we would not starve." He shrugged. "She was a nice collaborator to have, a friend."

"I'm sorry." Merlin snapped his neck to look over at Arthur, still behind his desk, but work long abandoned.

"Whatever for?"

"That you must seperate peices of yourself in order to exist in a certain place. That there are those who make you feel as if you aren't human, but some savior sent to magically fix every problem we have." Arthur shook his head slightly. "You are more than that."

This. This is what Merlin can never find the words for.

He knew what he felt for Arthur was love. But it seemed so above and beyond any love he's ever felt, he hesitated to label it such.

Yes, he would die for Arthur without ever thinking, he would throw himself down at Arthur's mercy should he ever fail him. But that was only one peice of it. That was the love he feels for his King, that was the loyalty attatched to his affection.

Another part of him, the part that sits quietly with Arthur in his chambers, the one that wakes a sleepy man every morning with much more fondness than is appropriate. It was just Merlin, that fell in love with just Arthur. His heart, his kindness.

That part of Merlin would destroy anything and everything to see Arthur happy. He would burn down the world.

This was what scared him.

"Am I?" Is all he can manage to get out, in a cottonmouth whisper.

"Of course, Merlin. You are what keeps this kingdom afloat. Not just because you defend Camelot from grave dangers, or keep the grain stores stocked for winter. But because your light seems to bleed onto others and make us all unbearably happy. We would all be miserable without you."

"We?" Merlin can't help but point out with a small, shying smile. "Including you, sire?"

Merlin saw, in the candlelight, as the King's cheeks turned a bright pink and he tore his eyes back down to his scattered desk. "Well I would certainly be miserable with George all the time."

The well put-together man only did half of the usual tasks given to a manservant of the King. Merlin woke Arthur, dressed him, served him breakfast. He attended him at feasts and every night, he readied the King for bed. No one was taking that from him, as far as he was concerned. Unless Arthur told him to go, he would be here, always by his side.

"Have no fear, your highness, I will always be here to save you from manservants with no personality."

"Thank the gods for that." Arthur said, all too serious.

Merlin tried to lighten the mood, with a small chuckle he asked "Did you honestly think that Morgana and I-"

The King cut him off, scrunching his eyes closed in embarasment. "Gods, I didn't know, okay? I knew you cared for her but I didn't know if it was more than-"

"It's not. I care for her as a sister. I care for her as you do."

Arthur smiled at him. "That is good to know." He tapped on the wooden surface of his desk with a finger, staring at the motion in thought. Merlin just watched him.

"So, you don't have your eye on anyone, at present?"

Merlin's brain froze still. How was he supposed to answer that? "I…wouldn't say that." He responded quietly, not looking away from Arthur's stark blue eyes.

Arthur seemed almost disappointed, but not surprised. "I thought as much." he said with smile that did not reach his eyes.

At Merlin's questioning look he said, "You're often daydreaming when I find you alone. With some dopey looking smile on your face." He tried to sound offhand when he asked, "Who's the lucky lady?"

Merlin decided, for once in his life, to be honest when asked a question. Looking at his feet once more, he responded. "Not a lady at all, actually." the man sighed, bereft. "A complete idiot that they somehow allowed to be King though he can't even dress himself most days. I don't know how the kingdom hasn't-"

His rambling was cut off once again by the King. But this time a completely different tactic was used.

The kiss was hungry, while Arthur's hold on him was gentle. As if he were afraid to break something precious.

They come up for air some minutes later, now grasping onto each other for dear life. "We should've done that ages ago." Arthur whispers into the air between them, causing a giddy laugh to ride up out of both of them.

Their love is like flowers growing up out of the frozen solid ground. Or a gust of cold air in the dessert.

[allthehumanflaws]

Reunion of Albion

[This is just a short headcanon that I had about BBC Merlin. Hope it helps you somewhat forget the pain of the finale. :)]

Nearly 1500 years after the death of the Once and Future King of Camelot. There is a shift in the air. The birds of Camelot seem more cheerful than ever. Everything seems as if shifting. The sun is brighter than before and the Queen stands in her room looking out in wonder. 

"Merlin! What is happening?" she called out. "I have no idea Gwen, but whatever it is I feel strangely happy." "You were looking for a counter spell, did you find it? It has been the same of years now." "No Gwen. Even the Great Dragon has no answers." said Merlin. 

Neither of them had aged a day. For 1500 years they were the same as they had been on the day when.... Some strange curse had befallen Camelot. The Queen, Sire Leon, Sir Percival, Merlin and Gaius had not aged a day. Nor had a lot many people. The world around them had reached many heights but how much ever Merlin tried he could never bring that change to Camelot. How much ever he tried he couldn't reverse the curse. It was as if Camelot was stuck at one place in the loop of time. Each year Merlin would try to do something to reverse it but nothing has worked. 

"Your Majesty! There is something happening at the Lake of Avalon." said Leon bursting inti the room. It wasn't far away so all of them set out immediately. 

"Merlin, Gaius do you know something of this?" asked Percival. "No. This is not something I know of." replied Gaius. The Lake was shining with a bright light. The trees were swaying to an unheard tune. There was some sort of movement in the middle of the Lake. 

Merlin stepped closer. In his heart, he knew what was happening. He had known a day would come when they would be reunited. A day when they all will return. All of them stared open mouthed. A bright light blinded them all. When they opened their eyes, it was a sight to behold.

Middle of the Lake their stood Arthur in all his might with the Excalibur glinting in his hand. Beside him stood Gwaine, strong and smiling his own sword in his hand. Elyan stood beside him, grinning from ear to ear and Lancelot, stood there smiling at his long lost friends. 

The Once and Future King has returned and with him have returned the Knights of Camelot. They were welcomed with open arms and flowing tears. There was a banquet and a feast. There was laughter and love. Camelot had returned to its full glory. But Merlin had not shed a single tear all day. It didn't seem real to him. To him, it seemed another of his many dreams. To him, it would all end. He had seen this before it ended with Gaius waking him up but as he decided that his going to sleep would end this, Gwaine came up behind him and said, "Merlin! There you are at last! I have been looking all over the place for you. I am a bit rusty, point me to the Tavern?" "Sir Gwaine has forgotten where the tavern is !? I must be dreaming!" said Percival. Leon entered behind him laughing followed by Elyan and Lancelot. Then came Gwen and then Gaius. Last of all came Arthur. They all laughed, and Merlin stared at them, tears finally prickling his eyes.

"Merlin, you idiot! What are you staring at?!" said Arthur smiling. 

He had them all back. He had them back and now he realized what had happened to Camelot. Albion was no other than Camelot. He was Albion and because he was awaiting the arrival of The Once and Future King with his Knights, Albion waited as well. And now the wait was over for Albion had finally been reunited.

[It's not enough to remove the pain, but I hope it's enough to give you hope that all was well after all. Hope you liked it!!]

[winters-mistress]

Cirilla's broken heart.

It's Geralt of all people who breaks the silence between them. Ironic, really, that the man of so few words finds them when nobody else can. After all this time, after everything that happened, it falls to him to speak, to comfort, do to something, when nobody else knows how.

Everard! Gwain! Wake up!

His daughter and his brothers had told him she had yelled, throwing the witch's blade as the two witchers shoot up in their beds. His girl, his strong, beautiful, brave girl, had had a few precious moments of lucidity in the midst of her docility, and with it, she had saved them, imprisoning the demon in her mind.

The time between Yennefer's betrayal and the hard, frantic ride to Kaer Morhen do not make sense to the witcher. From the moment he holds his sword to her throat to that where he pushes her off him as he seeks out his girl, time doesn't add up. That's why he's tried so hard to fill in the blanks, why he asked the two of them, and his father, what had occurred in their perspective. They could handle it, they were strong, and his daughter had made sure they had survived the battle, but coming to his daughter to ask what had happened to her was something he wanted to avoid for as long as possible. The last thing Geralt ever wants to do is hurt Ciri.

"Asking how you are is a stupid question," Geralt begins. He hears his daughter inhale, but he cannot see her, she's facing away from him. "so, what are you feeling?" He thinks that's the best way to go, honesty and bluntness.

Everard had told him the ivory-hilted blade had sat in the wall with a satisfying clunk as Ciri had yelled at them to get back, get to Vesemir, get help, before the demon had taken her again, her face falling slack before falling sly, emerald eyes glowing a horrific shade of neon.

His girl, his brave girl, had fought the demon, and she had won, but it had came at a cost. She's only just recovered enough strength from her fainting and vomiting spells she'd had once they returned from the mysterious sphere. She's not strong enough to walk the keep, so she doesn't know about the destruction and the bodies of the basilisks. Geralt hopes they can rid the bodies and scrub the blood and fix the tree and the walls and the tables before his girl is well enough to start her training again. The last thing she needs is more pain.

"I-" Ciri's voice is tired and soft, it doesn't speak of thirst or gritty like she'd swallowed sandpaper. Geralt had heard her speak in many ways, loud and relieved when they'd met in the forest, monotone and untrustworthy before Nivillen, tearful and shaky once they'd left, strong and stubborn when they would train and spar, angry and bitter when Geralt had denied her the mutations. But never like this, defeated and exhausted, it chills him. "I don't know," she pauses, pushing a lock of hair from her face. It's undone and falls in curls and waves, she hardly ever wears it down, it makes her look younger and more like the Princess she is, especially with the clean white linen tunic she wears. "I don't know what to feel, what to say." Now, Cirilla turns towards him, her legs folding up behind her.

"I understand." But he really doesn't, he doesn't understand it all. He so wants to, he wants to take that pain he sees in his daughter's eyes, he wants to hold her against his chest the same way he felt when they reunited in Cintra. Will she smile if he gives her a few of her favourite strawberry jam cookies? Or will a blade do it? Will she allow him to come closer, hold her and protect her from a world that hunts her for reasons neither of them understand?

By the time Vesemir had came to Everard's room, Ciri -was she still? Or would it be more accurate to call her Voleth?- had gone. She was on her way to the medallion tree by then. Was he there then? Going up the mountain, coming into the courtyard?

Trapped within her own mind, Geralt doesn't know what she was forced to see, and it startles him. No, it scares him. His daughter is so strong, so brave, whatever that demon had forced into her mind had hit below the belt. Ciri had survived the Cintran slaughter and weeks on the run, her night with the beast and the vampire, months with unruly witchers and the betrayal of Yennefer, she had survived it, and had never reacted as such.

"How many?" She looks up at him, eyes tired, but set, as if she's resigned herself to a horrible fate.

"What?" He frowns.

"How many did I kill?"

Ah. He supposes she wouldn't know what she did after the last monster was taken down by Coën.

He knows what it is to be resigned here. Just days ago, Geralt had walked cautiously around the keep, thinking that this next turn would be the one where he would find his girl on the ground, used and eliminated due to the demon's influence. Maybe Yennefer would have gotten to her again, lead her by the hand to her death in exchange for chaos.

Geralt's fist clenches. He's so furious with Yennefer. How dare she. How dare she do that to him? To them?

The battle had begun after Voleth had refused his offer of himself as a sacrifice to save his child. Witchers crowded around her, swords at the ready, after Jaskier had ran inside the room and told them about what Yennefer had done, about how her deal with the demon had lead to Ciri being possessed, and of how the girl clearly didn't want to do them any harm, with how she had broken out of her trance and yelled to alert the witchers of the danger.

Thankfully, all the swords were pointed at Voleth, and not Cirilla. He didn't know what he would have done if Ciri hadn't saved his brothers, and the vengeance had been turned upon her instead.

Ciri had had moments of lucidity, where she had managed to push the demon to the back of her mind, enough to ask him to help her, to warn a brother of an incoming attack, or a weakness in the basilisk, but he didn't know what the girl had been through in the moments where her body was not her own. When she herself had been locked inside her own mind like a bluebird in a golden cage, he had been too busy trying to figure out a way to free his girl.

He cringes as he steps forward, watching her neck as she moves her hair. He remembered the sick crunch when she had been forced into submission, when it looked like a black, shadowy hand had grabbed her hair and forced her back. Vesemir and Gwain had heard too, for they took a moment to stop fighting their shared monster to see the source of the noise, before coming back to reality.

"None." Geralt comes back to earth, realising that she was still waiting for an answer, loathe to leave her waiting for words like he had in those first couple weeks on the winter road. "Do you not remember what happened, after Yennefer?"

"No." she whispers, fiddling with her fingers, looking down in shame. "I don't remember much from being on the road until I fell into you." Ciri pauses, licking her lips, looking up. She meets his eyes, and she looks tired. "I only remember parts of the fighting."

"Would you like to know?"

"Yes, of course."

"Well, after Yennefer came into the room, she tried to give you a potion, clear the demon from you that way. All the monsters were dead by then, my brothers all coming over to see what she was doing."

"And?"

"It didn't work, clearly." Geralt walks towards her, and takes her weight as he sits beside her, his girl leaning upon his shoulder. He holds her steady, holds her strong, he will be strong so she can be weak, so she can be vulnerable and upset and frightened. Lord knows she must not have had the chance much since the slaughter. "Then she had an idea, cut her wrist and let the demon come to her instead, leave you alone."

"And that didn't work as well."

"No. It was a foolish plan. All that happened was that she fainted from blood loss quite quickly after."

Ciri chuckled humourlessly. "Sorceresses are always self centered like that."

"Indeed. I don't know what you said, what you did, but you whispered something, and then there was a loud noise. Horrid, really, even for a witcher." He nods. "A large, black figure appeared in front of you, it was shadowy, as if it was a ghost. You looked over at the room, yiur eyes were black, like all the other witchers, and suddenly you woke them all up. Even Marek, with his lack of face-" he notes that Ciri winces as if she was struck. "And Timron, with his no legs, Roose and Lukas, you brought them all back. Even Eskel and Remus, several others, too. They just appeared out of thin air, from boots to head. You brought them back."

"What? How? They weren't there." Ciri is surprised.

"You don't tend to obey the laws of the world, sweet girl. The word impossible doesn't seem to hold weight with you."

Ciri chuckles, her eyes filling with tears. She sniffles, burying her face into his shoulder.

He holds her, calms her, runs his fingers through her knotted blonde hair.

"Thank you, little wolf," Geralt says, once she's pulled back. He's lay a hand upon her cheek, comforting her as much as he is cleaning her cheek of tears.

"For what?"

"Bringing my brothers back. Thank you."

"It seems rather undeserved, when you consider I had no idea or no control over it."

"Even still. Thank you."

Ciri closes her eyes, hiding back in his hair.

"Then what happened?"

"You looked back at the shape, and it disappeared. You fainted into my arms. We thought everything was okay when you woke up, because Yennefer was healed, too, and you were free, before all the doors and windows slammed closed. Fires burned out, the lot."

"Yeah, I remember." She settles into his shoulder. "She came back for me, and I portaled us to-" she sighs. "somewhere."

"Yeah," he shuffles. He wishes he could say something to comfort her about the wraiths, what they said to her, but he finds none. "Yennefer's fine, by the way, you healed her when you healed us."

"And her magic, is that back?"

"No." He whispers, "she still knows all her spells, but she tried to light the fires and couldn't. She was upset, but she's not the priority anymore."

"What'll happen to her?"

"I don't think I can let her go with the knowledge she has, about you and about here."

"What?" Ciri pulls back quickly. Geralt's shoulder is cold, he wishes she was still where she was. Her eyes are wide, disbelieving, bright emeralds in a sea of coal. "Are you kidding? You're letting her stay?"

"She told me she helped you make a portal in Nenneke's."

Ciri hung her head. "About what happened there-"

"Shh, it doesn't matter." Geralt soothes, bringing a hand back to her face. "She took you from me, but we are together now."

She sniffles.

"When did you speak?"

"When you were asleep, two days ago."

"And that's that, then? She's staying here?" Ciri sounds nervous.

"To be no more than a tutor to you. I don't trust her, you don't trust her, my brothers don't trust her, but she told me that she helped you with a portal, and that's more than what Triss ever did. I'm told a portal I'd complex magic, too."

"But-" she starts. "You can't-"

He frowns. "What's wrong?"

"You don't understand what happened. When she took me away, we ended up at Goldencheek's house, you remember, the wife that saved me? The husband that saved you?"

He nods.

"Geralt, the fire man-" she swallows thickly. "the fire man got them. Got them all, her, her husband, and the two boys." Cirilla reveals.

Geralt allows himself a moment of grief for four lives so needlessly wasted. For the two boys who were all in all innocent, yes, he knows one of them caused his girl a bit of bother, but children should never die in their parents' war. He grieves for a woman so kind to open her heart to Ciri for no other reason than that she wanted to. And he will grieve for a long while a man who was so generous and honourable that he qiuld save a lowly witcher and put up with his sharpness and hostility just because he felt it was the right thing to do.

"After I found them, Yennefer-" Ciri takes a calming breath, sniffling as more tears come to her eyes. "Yennefer told me they were keeping you hostage in Cintra. Hurting you. Torturing you, because of me." she reveals.

Geralt says nothing, just stares at this child. This sweet, beautiful, vulnerable child who had been betrayed by everybody in her world apart from a sweet farmyard mother and a handful of mutated witchers holed up in a crumbling castle.

By the gods, how could he be so blind? How could he have fallen for Yennefer's charms so easily that she could disarm him and illusion him into thinking she had his child's best interest at heart? Surely it was because Yennefer's one mission since he had known her was motherhood, and now she had an opportunity, she does this?

As he looks at her now, all he feels is rage for the woman. Her deception aches in his bones, the depths of it startling him. He knew she had trapped Ciri and was going to lead her by the hand to the demon, but somehow this -as small of a sin as it was in comparison to that- was worse. Yennefer had messed with Ciri's mind, told her that he was in danger because of her, manipulated her and deceived her. All for what? Nothing, in the end.

"Ciri," he starts. But he finds that he doesn't know how to finish the sentence.

It seems like he doesn't have to.

The girl sniffles and wipes her tears, a fruitless task as more simply streak her cheeks, before crawling over to him and placing herself into his lap, curling into his chest and neck. His arms bound around her, warming her and keeping her safe.

"I don't want her to be with us." she sniffles. "She betrayed us, everybody always does."

"You have me, Ciri. And my brothers and Vesemir and Jaskier, you should know that I'm not going to forget this. What she's done, to us and you. I promise, I won't forget this. And I will keep you safe from her if she tries anything."

"Where is she now?"

"Infirmary. Jaskier took her there after you healed her. Stitches."

"So, you promise not to fall to your knees to her if she flutters her lashes again?"

He chuckles. Ciri bites a grin, looking so conflicted with her red eyes and her wet cheeks.

"Promise. Me and you against the world, pup. I'll keep you safe. From monsters and men and mages alike."

Ciri smiles.

"I don't want her to be with us, but if you think it's best, then you need to play bodyguard. I won't trust her again, you do understand that?"

"Of course." He wipes her cheeks again. And thankfully, they stay dry.

Ciri cuddles into him. "Rest some more, sweet girl. When you feel up to it, you can come downstairs and meet the brothers you helped."

"As long as they're not all like Lambert." Ciri yawned. "Can't handle another arse in this place."

Geralt laughs. "You can see Remus throwing him off a snowplough if you like."

Ciri smiles. And closes her eyes.

"You'll be here when I wake up?"

"I will, little one. Rest now."

[morganalefay]

Could you tell us about AM Dream a little dream of me? And TSAC chap12? ☺

Thanks for asking! :) So Dream a little dream of me is an ArMor fic that is pretty much just in outline form now, but it's an idea that has been stuck in my head for a while now and won't let go.

This would be alternative version of Merlin s3, where Morgana wants to get rid of Uther, but doesn't hate Arthur - rather she wants to ensure that he will do better than his father, and decides to put herself in a position to control him. To ensure that she can manipulate Arthur, Morgana uses dream-walking to get inside his head and seduce him/learn more about him. This is heavily inspired by Salem 1x07 Our Own Private America, especially the line, "Dream-walking in any man is dangerous, let alone one you love. You could lose your way and never come back."

Morgause cautions Morgana against dream-walking too much, but Morgana obviously doesn't listen. Arthur struggles to tell dreams from reality, and at some point Morgana loses control and ends up too deep, seeing some dark memories of Arthur's (think Merlin 4x10 with what happened in the druid camp) Arthur also sees inside Morgana's head and gets a glimpse of some things she wants to keep hidden.

---

TSAC chap12 is obviously the next chapter of "the stars are crying (for what we could have had)" I have this and the last chapter all mapped out, I'm just moving very slowly. Chapter 12 includes Arthur & Morgause teaming up to overthrow Uther, which I love because fuck Uther lol. Also Gwaine is back (yay!!) because his moments with Morgana are some of my favorites.

Anyways here's a snippet from the beginning of the chapter:

Life in Camelot was grueling most days, though of late things were worse than ever, and Arthur was starting to feel worn thin. A group of his knights had ventured onto Cenred’s lands on Uther’s orders, and now all of them were reported to be dead. Including Leon. Gwen burst into tears when she heard the news, and Arthur couldn’t blame her. It felt like all they did was lose people they cared about anymore. Arthur had met with Morgause a few times since she found him in the woods, though they still hadn’t agreed on a plan to overthrow Uther. Morgause's original plan involved too many civilian casualties, and Arthur refused to harm his people when only Uther was to blame. Arthur was growing impatient, but Morgause insisted that they would find a way. Sometimes Arthur found himself questioning whether trusting Morgause was the right choice, but he knew she loved Morgana almost as much as he did. Morgause would ensure that Morgana came home again, and that was worth any risk to himself.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Don’t Run

Prompts: hello hello hello i have a merlin fic idea (which you are Not obligated to write /gen) merlins been hiding his magic from arthur for ages (but arthur already knows about it, doesnt really care, and has just been waiting for merlin to tell him on his own terms). merlins magic gets revealed and merlin is Terrified. he basically begs aurthur to not burn him and instead banish him or something. arthur (who was not expecting this) decides hey maybe its a good idea to let all these emptions calm down before I talk about this with him because clearly merlin isnt okay right now. and so he leaves merlin to let him have a break. but merlin freaks (or gets kidnapped or something idk /lh) and decides 'fuck it time to run before he decides to kill me.' arthur now has to go find this magic dumbass (he's probably very worried about him) However, when he finds merlin, merlin assumes arthur is there to kill him and figures 'well if arthur wants me dead i suppose i'll have to die' or something.  arthur is naturally horrified and rushes to clear things up. again, if you dont want to write this/dont feel comfortable writing it, dont /gen (i know its detailed brain went brrrr at like midnight and thought this up lmao) have a great day!!! drink water or get bonked /lh - anon

me, as the angsty person i am, am a sucker for the 'Person A gets kidnapped or captured for a bit and when they're rescued think they're dreaming/hallucinating' trope. no pressure for you to write this ofc, feel free to ignore this /gen - anon

prompt: can you please do a Merlin gets betrayed by someone he cares about h/c fic? also can merlin be aroace and trans? - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: panic attacks, betrayal, anti-magic sentiments

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3725

It was supposed to be a normal hunt. It was supposed to be a normal hunt. 

It was supposed to be this: they get out of the castle so Arthur can be less of a prat, the knights have that weird banter that they always do where it’s ‘we can make fun of him but if anyone else tries, you will be eviscerated,’ and Merlin gets to enjoy being in the woods because it’s nice outside and he doesn’t actually have to do that much. They only tend to hunt small things like rabbits and birds anyway. 

It was not supposed to be most of the knights having to stay behind for various reasons, including Gwaine who somehow got swept into helping Leon with a council thing. 

It was not supposed to be just him, Arthur, and three random knights. 

It was not supposed to end like this. 

Merlin grunts, hitting the ground hard as a sword slams into his back. He gasps, struggling to find purchase on the loose dirt as the sound of shouts reach his ringing ears. He turns over, trying to get up, only to have the point of a sword leveled at his face. 

“G-Gareth?”

Gareth, the knight who had actually been decent to him—which meant he’d helped put away his equipment, helped Merlin tidy up, and actually been nice to him—snarls down at him, sword still aimed right at his throat. 

“What—what’s going on?”

“Don’t play dumb, you wretched thing,” the man growls, the point of the sword perilously close to slitting his throat, “I’ve had my eye on you since I came to Camelot.”

“Your eye on me—what? What’re you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know!”

Merlin’s breathing grows ragged as the sword forces his head back down on the ground. Gareth leans over him, spittle flying from his lips. 

“You’re poison,” hisses the same mouth that called him kind, called him compassionate, called him hopeful, “you’re a plague that deserves to be wiped out. Scum and traitors, all of you, inhuman bastards that drag the rest of us down to your level.”

It’s the shock of the words that does it, bringing tears to Merlin’s eyes as the conviction in the man’s face drives the sword down further. “G-Gareth, I—“

“Don’t.” 

He winces as the sword digs in. 

“Keep my name out of your hell mouth,” the man spits, “don’t try and curse me.”

“What,” says the most glorious and furious voice Merlin has ever heard, “is the meaning of this?”

Arthur.

Arthur storms up to them, his own sword drawn, eyes like flame as he sees Gareth with his sword at Merlin’s throat. 

“Drop it,” he warns in a voice of steel, “and I might just let you keep your life.”

“He’s a sorcerer, sire.”

Merlin’s blood runs cold. 

No. 

No. 

No, no, no, no, this can’t be happening. 

Not like this. Arthur wasn’t supposed to find out like this. No, he was—he was going to tell him, promise, he was but—but after, after everything was fine and fixed and then—then he could—

Not like this. Please, not like this. 

“A sorcerer? Merlin? You must be joking.”

“It’s no joke, sire.” Gareth snarls again. “I saw him with my own eyes. His eyes glowed, he threw a spear halfway across the arena without his hands. He has magic, I tell you.”

Merlin looks helplessly at Arthur but all he sees is a stony face. The blade turns him back after a second, back into the face of contempt and hatred and all the things that hurt far worse than any sword. 

“We must kill him,” Gareth says solemnly, “to root out the poison before it destroys us all.”

And before Merlin can say anything, before Arthur can say anything, he lifts the sword and makes to swing. 

“Merlin!”

A blast and Gareth is flying back across the clearing, smacking against the tree and falling to the ground with a clang. 

It rings in the still air. 

Merlin’s eyes widen. 

He doesn’t hear the cries of sorcerer, magic, evil over the pounding of his heart in his ears. He doesn’t see the light glint off of blades as they’re pulled from scabbards. He doesn’t feel the threat of others getting closer over the dread of what he’s just done. 

He’s killed himself. 

He used magic to hurt one of the knights of Camelot. 

He revealed himself in front of Arthur. 

What have I done?

“Sire, what do we do?” He hears the voice from a mile away. “I’ve never killed a sorcerer before.”

Never killed a sorcerer before. 

He’s asking Arthur how to kill a sorcerer. 

Arthur knows how to kill a sorcerer. 

Arthur has killed a sorcerer before. 

Arthur is going to kill me. 

Merlin shies away from them, curling up into a ball before realizing that could be seen as defiance and whimpering, throwing himself to his knees with his hands raised. 

“I’ll go,” he croaks, “I’ll—I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again, just—just let me go. Banish me instead.”

Please, just let me run. 

He can’t look at Arthur’s eyes, filled with rage and contempt like Gareth as he strikes him down. He can’t look at him like that, he can’t do it. He won’t survive that alone. It wouldn’t be the sword that kills him. 

“Please—please, I’ll go. I’ll go and you’ll never see me again,” he begs, “just—just let me go.”

“Pathetic,” another one of them says, “is that the best he can do? I’ve seen a dog beg better than that.”

Arthur still hasn’t said anything. 

“We need to kill him, sire,” Gareth says—oh, he must’ve gotten up— “who knows what he could do?”

Merlin finally looks up, if only to see how close they all are, and his eyes lock with Arthur’s. 

He can’t see any of the man he knows. 

“Return to camp,” says the stranger who wears Arthur’s face, “pack the supplies. We must make ready for a hasty retreat back to Camelot.”

“But sire—“

“Now.”

Two of the knights glance at each other and slowly begin to back away. Gareth remains for a moment longer. 

“Be wary, sire,” he says, “he’s tricky. Did his best to seduce me, he’s a wily one.”

“I can handle him. Go.”

Gareth shoots one last truly disdainful look at him before he retreats into the undergrowth, the sheen of his sword the last to vanish. 

Then it’s just the two of them. 

“Arthur,” Merlin gasps, “Arthur, please—“

“Shut up.”

The words are different. They’re not playful, not irritated, not—not Arthur. They’re cold. Impersonal. An order. They strike Merlin like rocks from a sling, making him flinch into a sharp rock that jabs right through the thin material of his trousers. His throat closes until only pained and pitiful whines can escape. 

They remain where they are for a long moment before Arthur begins to retreat as well, sword still held aloft, backing away until he’s far enough that Merlin can hardly see him. Only then does he turn. 

Merlin watches the single spot of red walk away from him until it vanishes into the forest. 

His magic tingles in the tips of his fingers and a soundless yell burns his throat as he shoves his hands against his chest, trying to make it go away, this is all your fault, you ruined everything, you always ruin everything!

He has to run. He has to run because sorcerers die in Camelot, they’re put to the sword or burned at the stake and he can’t look at Arthur while he kills him. He can’t. He just can’t. He’d sooner die of that than whatever execution they can dream up. 

With stumbling and clumsy steps that are dragged down by his traitorous magic that for some reason doesn’t want him to flee from the site of his execution, he scrambles to his feet and runs. 

If Arthur—if Arthur finds him after this, he can say he tried to run. He can run again, he’ll keep running. He’ll spend his life running if it means Arthur won’t kill him and he won’t have to see it. 

He runs harder and faster than he’s ever run before because Arthur is a warrior who’s been trained to kill since birth and he’s stronger and faster and can run for longer and if he catches Merlin—

He loses track of where he is. He just runs. 

But his magic, his damned magic, that has always loved Arthur more than it loves him, won’t let him. 

Like a tether from his navel that twists through the forest, he knows exactly where Arthur is. And exactly when he starts to give chase. 

A wretched sob tears itself from his throat and he pushes on, his magic dragging him back each step as Arthur gets closer, closer, closer, and he’s no longer just hearing his own breath and phantom footsteps as he crashes through the woods. He can hear the snapping of twigs, the rustling of leaves, and that voice. 

That damned voice. 

“Merlin!”

He can’t stop. If he stops he dies. If he stops Arthur kills him. If he stops he—he—

His magic all but throws him over a root and he yelps, turning into a frightened scream as he’s pitched down a hill and into a boulder with a crack. 

“Merlin!”

Leaves rustle as Arthur skids down the hill after him and he’s so close, he’s right there and Merlin has to run, he has to run now, but his legs are shaking and his arms won’t work and his magic keeps tugging him back toward Arthur and he just collapses into a useless, cowering mess at Arthur’s feet. 

“Merlin!”

“No—no fire,” he gasps out, “please, you—you can do it here, I won’t fight, I won’t—you can use your sword, please, no fire, I don’t want to burn—please, no fire—“

A strong hand grips his shoulder and pulls him in to—

No sword pierces his chest. No dagger finds a home in his gut. There are no hissed words, no glares, no low solemn speeches about magic as a plague. 

He can’t even see Arthur anymore. Just the hill. There are two tracks in it. One where he fell and one where Arthur skidded after him. Red fabric flutters in front of him too. Arthur’s cape. 

Why can he see Arthur’s cape?

Only when a head turns and breath starts to puff over his neck does he realize what’s happened. 

“A-Arthur?”

“Don’t you ever,” Arthur says in a rush, chest still heaving against Merlin’s where he’s pulled him flush against him, legs tangled in a heap, “scare me like that again.”

He’s…he’s in Arthur’s lap. Arthur’s holding him. Arthur’s hugging him. 

Arthur has his face buried in Merlin’s neck and he’s telling him not to scare him like that again. 

“Arthur?”

“You,” he says, and he sounds like Arthur again—a very angry Arthur, but at least it’s Arthur— “are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.”

He pulls back and his eyes are still on fire but he’s looking at Merlin like a starving man. 

“Why did you run? You could’ve been hurt! You were hurt, you slammed into the rock like it broke your back.” He runs a hand over Merlin’s spine as if reassuring himself Merlin’s not hurt. “You idiot, I almost lost you.”

Merlin just blinks. Almost…lost him? Doesn’t Arthur want to kill him?

“Well?”

Oh. Arthur’s waiting for an answer. “Aren’t you going to kill me?”

Arthur’s face goes white, slack in horror, then contorts anew in red rage. “No, Merlin, I’m not going to bloody kill you.”

“B-but you—“

“I didn’t want the others to try, you absolute petticoat,” he says, still glaring, “because you’re a little lamb who rolls over whenever anyone is trying to fight you except me—which is rude, by the way—and you wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to defend yourself if they tried!”

…that’s why he sent them away?

Arthur rolls his eyes when he voices that thought. “Yes, Merlin. They’re under the impression that they’re to start back to Camelot without me to gather reinforcements.”

Reinforcements—the knights—no— 

“Calm down, you idiot, they’re not actually going to—oh, for the love of—Merlin.”

Merlin listens to that. He freezes in Arthur’s arms as Arthur’s hand comes up to cup the back of his head. He stares at him pointedly, gaze flicking from one eye to the other. 

“I lied,” he says slowly as if he’s talking to a child, “so they would leave.”

“You…you did?”

“Yes. Because then I could talk to you about having magic—hey,” he says firmly as Merlin tries to pull away again, “none of that. Stay with me.”

Another order. He can do those. 

“Right. I wanted to talk with you about having magic so that now we can work together to keep things like this from happening and—where are you going?”

“What do you mean now,” Merlin asks, eyes widening as he tries anew to struggle away from Arthur, “what does that mean?”

“Merlin, I’ve known you’ve had magic for a while now, and—“

“You what?”

“Come on, you’re not exactly good at hiding it all the—hey!”

Merlin had flailed, succeeding in loosening Arthur’s grip and sending them both falling over. He scrambles up, trying to claw his way free but Arthur is faster and he’s on him in an instant. 

“This isn’t working,” he hears Arthur growl to himself before arms like steel bands close around him, hauling his back against Arthur’s chest as legs lace through his and pin him well and truly. 

“N-no—“

“Shh,” comes Arthur’s voice, suddenly soft and gentle and Merlin hates the way he instantly relaxes, “easy, now. It’s alright. You’re alright.”

A truly pathetic whine leaves his mouth and Arthur hums. 

“I’m not going to kill you,” the gentle voice says again, “I’m not going to burn you and I’m not going to use my sword. You will not die.”

But he’s a sorcerer. Sorcerers die in Camelot. 

“I sent away the others to protect you. They’re not going to hurt you either. The knights—our knights—won’t let you be hurt and neither will I.” Arthur’s lips brush the shell of his ear. “You’re safe, Merlin. I’m going to protect you.”

“But,” Merlin gasps, “but I’m a sorcerer.”

“Yes,” Arthur says patiently, “you are. I’ve known that for a while. You are Merlin, you are a sorcerer, and I’m going to protect you.”

“Sorcerers die in Camelot. You—you should kill me.”

“I am not going to kill you. You are mine,” and there’s a hint of steel in his words now too, “and no one is going to touch you.”

His magic thrums in his veins and slowly, slowly his breathing slows. 

“If I let you go, will you run again?”

“N-no.”

“Alright.”

Arthur lets him go and Merlin doesn’t run. He lets Arthur turn him around and cup his neck again, the other hand on his shoulder. He doesn’t look mad anymore. 

“Is that why you ran,” he asks, still speaking softly, “did you think I was going to kill you?”

When Merlin nods, looking away in shame, he just hums again. 

“I’m not going to kill you.”

“I know that now.”

“Mhm. So when we go back—“

“Back?” Merlin’s head jerks up. “You’re not banishing me either?”

“What part of ‘I’m going to protect you’ did you not understand?”

“B-but I thought—“

“No, you didn’t,” he says in that soft voice that makes the insult almost an endearment, “you didn’t think because you didn’t realize that I could never kill you or send you away. I’d sooner leave with you.”

His magic hums as if to verify the truth in his words. “You…you would?”

Arthur frowns, but it’s not an angry frown. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“How important you are.”

The forest seems to fall silent. 

Merlin’s eyes widen so much he’s afraid they’re going to fall out of his head. And Arthur’s just looking at him with his face all sincere and his voice is still soft and his hands are gentle where they hold Merlin like he’s something precious and—and—

“What?”

“All those jokes,” Arthur says, “about you and being replaceable and being the worst and a coward…I never really meant them. Never. Well, you are an awful servant, but none of the others. I don’t want you to leave.”

Slowly, like he’s coaxing a skittish animal to him, he pulls him closer. 

“I want you.”

Something in Merlin’s chest breaks and he’s sobbing into Arthur’s shoulder in the next moment, hands scrabbling uselessly at his cape, his armor, his hair, every bit of him that he can reach. Arthur weathers the storm like a castle in a gale, holding him tight enough that he won’t blow away. 

“I want you,” he whispers, sweet rain in the clouded sky, “I want you to stay, Merlin.”

————

He’s on his back. He’s got a sword at his throat. Arthur stares down at him like his glare is enough to burn him alive and he’s snarling out Merlin’s name. 

“Magic is a plague. You’re poison. You’ve betrayed me. How could you do this?”

Merlin can’t speak. His mouth trapped shut. Arthur lifts the sword. 

“You’re nothing but an inhuman beast,” come the words that hurt far more than any mortal weapon, “you, who cannot love, who are of twisted mind and body, you who do not understand what it is to be a human.”

All of the secrets he’d hoped to hide…exposed for the world to see.

“May all of Camelot curse your name,” he growls, “Merlin. Merlin, Merlin—“

“Merlin!”

Merlin gasps, jolting upright, trying to get away from the sword, just run—

“Merlin, calm down,” Arthur says, wrapping his arms around him and coaxing him to his chest, “it’s only a dream, Merlin, it’s only a dream.”

No, no, this must be the dream. Why would he be in Arthur’s chambers, at night, in bed, in bed with Arthur—this can’t be—

“Shh, shh, shh, sweetheart,” Arthur murmurs, lying back down with Merlin in his arms, “I’ve got you. It’s only me. You’re safe.”

“A-Arthur?”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s me.” There’s a mouth on his neck. “Just me.”

He’s still panting, the run still pushing through his legs. Arthur hums, settling him into the blankets and propping himself up over him. 

“Where are you right now?”

“Forest,” Merlin chokes out, “sword. You were going to—to kill me.” He swallows. “Said all of Camelot would curse my name.”

“You’re with me,” Arthur says gently, “we’re in the castle. I’m not going to kill you. Can you see?”

He looks around. There’s the desk. There’s the window. Arthur’s white nightshirt is shining in the moonlight. 

“…yeah.” He swallows. “I’m—I’m not abusing you, am I?”

Arthur almost reels back in shock. “What? What on earth are you talking about?”

“I—‘cause I can’t—I can’t love the way that—“

“Stop right there,” Arthur orders, leaning down and cupping his face in his hands, “don’t you give a damn about that, you hear me? I care for you, I’m fond of you, you care for me, you’re fond of me, yes?”

“Y-yes.”

“Then that’s all that matters.”

Merlin swallows again. “And I’m not…wrong?”

“‘Wrong?’”

“…you don’t mind—“ he blushes— “my—my body?”

“Your bod—goodness, Merlin, this must’ve been quite the nightmare.” Arthur shakes his head. “No, Merlin, your body’s yours. You do what you like with it.”

It says something about how rattled he is that he doesn’t reach for any of the jokes he could make right now. 

“Hey,” Arthur calls, leaning down and carding his fingers through his hair, “be gentle with yourself, alright? That was a horrible thing that happened, let it heal in its own time.”

“But it’s hard.”

“I know.” Arthur leans over to kiss his cheek. “Trust me, I know.”

Merlin rolls over, wrapping his arms around Arthur as he chuckles in surprise, pulling him into a proper cuddle. 

“You just have to stay, then, until it feels better.”

“Oh, Merlin,” he hears faintly as sleep begins to tug at him once more, “you don’t need to make reasons for me to stay. I’m staying with you, sweetheart, for the rest of our lives.”

[merlinisnotover]

Emptiness

Whumptober Day 31 tw: major character death

Merlin was no stranger to death. He had watched men die of illness, wounds, and self-sacrifice. He’d seen innocents put to death that he couldn’t save. He’d seen knights fall in battle, baring their teeth against the pain. He’d seen Lancelot give his life gladly for Camelot, despite Merlin’s protests. He’d laid his king to rest and the tears had not stopped for weeks. He’d returned to Camelot to find Gwaine gone as well and been inconsolable.

But this?

He couldn’t do this.

Hunith lay on her bed, only a trace of the strong woman he was raised by. She had been sick for months and Merlin had moved back to Ealdor to care for her.

His magic had been useless, even with all of Gaius’ books at his disposal, Court Physician in his own right now, and it soon became apparent that it was only a matter of time.

“Merlin,” Hunith whispered, and he fell to his knees at her side in an instant.

“Yes?”

“You’re a good boy,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”

Merlin’s eyes began to tear again and he blinked them away. He was so tired of crying.

Hunith coughed suddenly, and Merlin rolled her to her side to help clear her airways.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye,” Merlin whispered when she had recovered.

“I know, cariad. None of us ever are.” She patted his hand on the mattress, papery skin over boney fingers. “It’s time though. You can’t fight time.”

“I want to try,” Merlin admitted. “I wish you’d let me move you to Camelot. We could find something to help —.”

“I know,” Hunith said again. “But this is my home. I belong here.”

Merlin nodded glumly, not wanting to waste time having this argument again. “I know.”

She lifted her hand and cupped it around his cheek instead. “You’ll be fine. You’re a strong boy.”

Merlin laughed wetly, the tears pressing at his eyes again. “I don’t feel very strong. I feel like a small child again.”

Hunith patted his cheek. “And you’ll always be my small boy, my magical boy. All grown up and Court Physician like my uncle. I’m so, so proud of you.”

“I love you,” Merlin whimpered, clutching at her hand.

“I love you, too, cariad. More than I can ever say. But I have to go.”

“Not yet,” Merlin begged.

“Merlin, I know you can feel it, too.” Hunith looked up at him with sunken eyes.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You should rest.”

Hunith smiled again, her dry lips cracking.

Merlin pulled the blankets up over her too-thin chest and stoked the fire to make sure she was warm, then settled into the chair beside the bed to keep watch.

The rattle of her chest began sometime past midnight, startling Merlin from his thoughts.

“Mum?” he knelt beside her again, taking her hand, but she didn’t stir. It would be soon, then. The dying always knew.

He sat with her for hours, her breathing become more and more shallow as the night dragged on. Just as the dawn was beginning to break over the village, she took a breath in, out, and did not draw another.

Merlin turned her hand and felt for the pulse at her wrist, but none came. She was gone.

Falling back onto the floor, Merlin sobbed until he couldn’t breathe. His eyes ached as they produced more tears than he thought possible. And his heart constricted around the empty space his mother left there.

Merlin was alone.

[queerofthedagger]

Monaaaa beloved goose 💛 angst prompt #1 for Gwen/Gwaine 🥰☺️

Most beloved goose, of fucking course you'd make me unwell about them...

This Beltane Dance

Gwen finds him in one of the larger villages along Escetir’s border, an hour’s ride south from Ealdor.

It has been months since Gwaine left Camelot, a sentence of banishment and Gwen’s rejection dogging his steps; or perhaps that is considering herself too highly.

Perhaps she had got it right the first time, and he had been doing nothing but flirt with her as he did with every other remotely attractive person he came across. Perhaps she is going to arrive in Lyndhurst and make her way through the Beltane crowds, with Gwaine nowhere to be seen.

He shouldn’t be; she has not given him a single reason to meet her beyond Merlin being the one to send the letter, and surely, even someone like him has better things to do than wait for a servant girl from Camelot.

The village looms not far ahead, and the nerves in her stomach drive a merciless knife through her carefully constructed canvas of a life that is secure and certain and all mapped out.

Gwaine should not be here; she had sent a letter, offering no explanation to Merlin in the way that she knew would keep him from asking. She had accompanied him on his visit to Ealdor, and barely stopped long enough to greet Hunith before disappearing without another word.

If anyone were to understand, it would be Merlin, she thinks, letting it soothe the ache of regret burning beneath her heart.

She rides into Lyndhurst, stalls selling food and trinkets lining the main street, garlands adorning the spaces above, and knows that she will find him exactly where she had asked him to be.

She wishes that the knot within her stomach was anything less than excitement. ---

In the end, he finds her. In the end, he drags her along to the Beltane fires without any explanation regarding his presence here. He makes her jump across the leaping flames, again and again, until luck pants exhausted through their lungs, and his hand feels glued to hers as if it belongs there, always, always, always.

“You came,” she says, useless, hours later. He is sprawled out beside her on dry straw, the fires still dancing, and she cannot tear her eyes away from his long, elegant fingers wrapped around a cup of mulled wine.

He tips his head back to look at her; for once, his smile is small and private, something solely reserved for her. “You asked,” he says; as if it were that easy.

It sounds like a revelation. It sounds like absolution, the simple matter of his voice and his affection flushing away the weight that is Morgana’s name, Arthur’s expectations, Merlin’s secrets.

She smiles, her heart reckless, and presses her fingers to the corners of his mouth. She demands, “Show me more,” and he laughs as if that is all he has been waiting for.

He does; drags her across leaping flames and into spinning dances until their laughter is the only sound permeating the bristling night air. Twirls her, round and round, until their laughter merges into each other, his dark eyes so bright that she might drown in them.

His lips warm, unerring, when they find hers; peace, after all, as if she deserves it. ---

In the end, morning dawns; it has always been waiting to happen, but for just a few hours, Gwen had pretended that it would not.

Up north, Merlin is waiting for her, ignorant and too entrenched in his own secrets to ask.

Back in Camelot, both Morgana and Arthur still wait.

She looks at Gwaine sleeping beside her, tracing his sharp, beloved features, and wonders if she could not make herself a home here.

“You have to go,” he tells her, not an hour later; if it were anyone else, she might take it as a dismissal.

As it is Gwaine, she presses her fingers to the lines of grief in the corners of his eyes, and says, “And what if I did not?”

It is a reckless notion, stupid, except for how it is not.

His smile is brittle, all the same. He presses his forehead to hers and says, “Come on, your Majesty; don’t give me false hope.”

We both know that you are going to go back, he does not say.

She swallows the protest, the justifications, the hurt and the fury and the pleading.

Back at home, Morgana is still waiting. So is Arthur, Merlin, everyone else.

She presses her lips to the corner of Gwaine’s mouth and vows, “One day. One day, I’ll stay.”

He smiles at her, but the strength of his fingers against her waist tells her that he does not believe her.

The strength of her fingers clenching in his hair tells the story of how she does not believe him, either.

✨December Gift-Ficlets ✨

[mycheese-tasted-like-applepie]

Gwaine getting comforted by his s/o when he feels insecure?

Poor Gwaine 💖

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fun-Sized

Much to your surprise, Gwaine can get quite insecure. Here is one of those times.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the window. Gwaine was in his chambers, staring out the window, watching all the people laughing and smiling, walking by with all seeming right in the world.

Gwaine was not smiling at all.

The knight was still dressed in his usual Camelot red and chainmail, having just come from the tavern with the others. Normally, it was a real good time just drinking with all the other knights. However, like usual, the drunken knights made fun of Gwaine’s height.

“So much talk yet so little height.” Leon would say.

“You know I’m twice the size of you.” Percival would add with a laugh.

Gwaine would normally just laugh it off, maybe adding a couple teases of his own. He knows it’s all in good fun, but the other knights didn’t know they were hitting Gwaine where it hurt.

The poor man was rather insecure about his height.

“Hey honey, you’re home early.” You stated while walking inside to your shared room. There was a smile on your face that soon vanished when you noticed Gwaine still in his chainmail.

“Got done early today.” He simply said without looking back. That’s when you knew that something was wrong. Gwaine was normally very cheeky, sauntering over to you with a smirk as he went in for a kiss, probably hoping for more.

This time, he stayed by the window.

“Is something wrong?” You asked softly while walking over to him, placing a loving hand on his shoulder. You rubbed it slightly, knowing Gwaine wasn’t one who liked talking about his feelings. It wasn’t easy for him, and even though he opened up to you slightly since you guys got together, it was still hard for him.

It was no different now, and he sighed through his nose as he struggled with what to say.

He knew you were just trying to help.

“Y/N...do you think I’m...too short?” Gwaine asked hesitantly, swallowing nervously when he asked the question. You simply arched a brow. What was he talking about? I mean, he had a couple inches on you.

But where was this coming from?

“Too short? For what?” You asked in confusion, and he shuffled on his feet. You kept your hand on his shoulder, moving it to his other to hold him in a half hug.

“For a man...I look at the other knights and...” He trailed off, and you started to realize where this was going. However, you let him finish his thoughts.

“...I guess I’m just a bit...insecure about my height...the other knights bring it up a lot and I...” Gwaine trailed off again, mumbling the last of his sentence as he looked towards the ground solemnly. You frowned at his words.

Poor Gwaine.

The man was always so cocky and confident. You didn’t think there was anything that could ever bother him, but here he was confessing to you that the knight’s words actually bothered him. Gwaine was actually insecure about his height, and he used his flamboyant personality to cover it up. 

“Oh Gwaine...that has nothing to do with who you are...don’t let the others bother you about it, okay?” You said while hugging him from behind. Gwaine softened slightly at your touch.

“You are more than man enough for me...short or not.” You said with a grin while resting your chin on his shoulder slightly. For a short second, Gwaine’s cheeky grin came back.

“You’re perfectly sized...in my eyes...fun-sized.” You said with a giggle, and that’s when Gwaine turned around with that familiar grin and light in his eyes. He grabbed you by the hips and held you close.

“Guess I just needed to hear you say that.” Gwaine said softly, resting his forehead against yours, pressing a light kiss to it. You blushed slightly and hugged him. The two of you stayed in that embrace for a while as it was one of the things that really made him feel better. 

Needless to say, when Gwaine is feeling insecure, all he needs is to hear your loving words and be held for a bit. You would be surprised to see how much his confidence comes back.

And the knights better not mention his height again, or they just might have to feel your wrath

[fandomwriterstuff]

A Seat at the Round Table (10)

Mob!Stucky x Female Reader

Rated T

~1.3k words

Steve and Bucky explained to you that Barton was in fact a name. Clint Barton. Notorious prankster and Natasha’s official spy partner. Also known as Gwaine. You didn’t even know that super secret agent spies were a real thing in New York City. The more you know. 

They also reassured you that Clint had spoken to them and agreed to sharing his name with you. His words (a direct quote according to Bucky) were: “If you trust her Boss-man, then I trust her.” You were feeling the love with everyone sharing with you, but you were also feeling a bit of imposter-syndrome. What if you weren’t trustworthy? What if you were kidnapped and asked for information and gave away their names and location? 

When you brought it up to Steve and Bucky they agreed that that would be unfortunate, but they knew you would never do it intentionally and they would never let you get kidnapped again. You also got brownie points for approaching Natasha about self-defense (an endeavor that would be starting that very afternoon). 

Bucky also noted that you didn’t actually know where in the city they were, which you didn't even realize was true. You weren't observant the times you came back here. 

But it was for the best, you supposed. 

The prank war continued, you hadn’t seen Natasha since her guttural scream the night before, and you assumed Clint was in the doghouse.

“What are you thinking about, beautiful?” Bucky asked as he reached behind you and tucked your shirt tag back into your shirt. You smiled, life really was about the little things, and Bucky and Steve seemed to understand that. 

“I haven’t seen Natasha, I was wondering what Clint did to her stuff,” you answered as you popped a piece of fruit into your mouth. Steve chuckled from across the table, newspaper in hand. He looked over the top of it to give you a grin.

“He replaced her after-shower lotion with unscented self-tanner. You haven’t seen her because she’s been trying to not look like an Oompa Loompa,” your eyes widened into saucers. 

“I contributed to that,” you squeaked, your anxiety suddenly flooding your brain again. 

“Don’t worry, princess. Like I said, she won’t hold it against you this time,” Steve winked at you and it did calm your nerves the slightest bit. You felt like you were riding a rollercoaster with all the emotions you were feeling the past week, but it was so much better than the monotonous numbness you felt when you were kept at home and not allowed to do anything. These feelings were new and wonderful… And all thanks to Steve and Bucky (and Sharon and Sam, of course). 

“Thank you,” the words tumbled out before you could stop them. “I don’t know what kind of trouble I would be in right now if not for you two,” you looked up and made eye contact with each of them briefly. “I’d be alone at my house with nobody and nothing while my father got himself into deeper and deeper problems. Defenseless.” You sighed and Bucky, who still sat beside you, rubbed a comforting hand up and down your back. 

“You’re not defenseless of your own accord, and none of this is your fault. Your father kept you safe, but he also kept you very sheltered, and not in a good way. You’re very strong to stand up to him like you did and to trust us,” he offered you a soft smile and you looked over as Steve folded up the paper and smiled over at you.

“We care about you, Y/N. We don’t want you getting hurt because of what your father did,” you offered a slightly watery smile back.

“I haven’t had a lot of people openly care about me,” you rolled your eyes and tried to force the tears back. “I mean clearly my father cares about me in his own twisted way, but no friends, no family, no… anybody,” you reached out and grabbed the hand that was closest to you, Bucky’s metal one, for comfort. “It’s new and I feel all warm and fuzzy inside,” you giggled at the thought. “And I…” You paused, hands suddenly clammy. You weren’t sure if Bucky could tell since you were holding his prosthetic hand, but you sort of hoped he couldn’t tell how nervous you were. “I care about you two as well. A lot. It’s a little scary and everything is happening so fast. But I also feel connected to Sharon, Sam, Clint, and Natasha. Everyone here has carved out a little place in my heart and I’m honestly terrified to lose you all,” you let out a shuddering breath. “I’ve never had something I could lose before.”

“You’re not going to lose us,” Bucky’s voice was soft and Steve came around to sit on your other side. You still held Bucky’s hand as Steve cupped your chin and tilted it towards him. 

“Do you know why?” His voice was soft and you blinked up at him, shaking your head gently in his light grip. “You’re special, and we don’t want to let you go.” With those words swirling around in your mind, you weren’t altogether shocked with Steve’s next move, but you also didn’t totally see it coming. 

With his hand still cupping your jaw, he leaned in so your foreheads were touching, and your eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he breathed the words, lips a hair's breadth away.

“Please don’t stop,” you whispered back, and then he caught your lips in a soft kiss. It felt so new, having someone kiss you who genuinely cared about you. 

You’d kissed people before, sure. But you’d never kissed someone who you planned on seeing for more than one or two dates. You’d never been kissed with such gentleness and care. And when Steve brushed his tongue against the seam of your lips, you let him in. You reached up to hold the back of his neck with your free hand and brushed your fingers through the short hair at his nape. He tasted like strawberries and syrup, the remains of the delicious breakfast you’d shared. When he pulled away, you opened your eyes to see his soft smile. You would have been content to stare at that beautiful face all day if not for the gentle tug on your hand, the one still holding Bucky’s.

“You gonna give me some love too?” He asked from beside you, mirth in his voice. Everything felt as if you were experiencing it in HD IMAX slow motion in the most wonderful way. You pulled your hand away from Steve and turned towards his partner, excited at this new turn of events.

“Only if you ask nicely,” you teased him, smiling as he chuckled. 

“My sweet, beautiful, charming princess, would you bestow upon me a kiss?” He was charming and he knew it. So you did what your body was begging you to do, you pulled him closer by his hand, reached your free hand out and ran your fingers through his thick hair and pulled him into a kiss. You knotted your fingers into his hair, his own hands reaching out to grasp your waist. The kiss was just as wonderful as Steve’s, but different in a good way. Bucky slid his tongue into your mouth with practiced precision and you felt every stroke of his hand up and down your side. His thumb snuck its way under your shirt and was rubbing circles on your soft skin there. 

When he finally pulled away, you were breathless and wanting for more. 

“That was…” You started, blinking owlishly at the brunet in front of you who was smirking with pride.

“Yeah, it was,” you giggled at his response and leaned back so you could see both of them.

“I would like to do more of that,” you admitted, smiling shyly. You received giddy, boyish grins in response. 

“Feel free, darling. Anytime, anywhere.”

Part 9 Part 11

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Everything is right with the world;

The gang discover a hidden talent of Merlin's whilst they enjoy the peace:

It’s been one year since the ban on magic was repealed. One year since Merlin became Court Sorcerer. One year since Sir Mordred and Lady Morgana became his students. One year since the never-ending peace began.

Sir Gwaine was the one to insist on a celebration, though the others were pleasantly surprised when he ardently denied that he was just looking for an excuse to drink (”You're all well aware that I don’t need an excuse. I just think we’ve... we’ve done some incredible things, ya know? We’ve worked ourselves to tears, to the bone, to the point of bleeding; do you not think we deserve an evening to just relax and be merry?”).

So an evening was put aside. Everyone’s schedules were cleared; things were taken care of earlier in the day or pushed to the next afternoon, and they all gathered in a clearing an hour or so from Camelot’s city walls. The captain of the guard had been informed where they were at Arthur’s insistence, it wouldn’t exactly be safe to have the city go without the entirety of the Inner Council, even for only a night.

Percival had dragged a cart of firewood behind him (none of them had wanted to waste any time collecting it), and once he and Elyan have it arranged in a neat tower, Mordred waves his hand, mutters a spell, and encourages it to burst into hot, energetic flames, under Merlin’s proud gaze, of course.

Merlin was happily wedged between Morgana and Leon, content to watch conversation flow between his friends as he thinks back on the last year, on all the things that had changed. His pleased gaze slides over to Gwaine when the man bursts into loud, drunken laughter at something Lancelot had said. Not everything has changed.

A quick breeze whips through the clearing and Merlin can feel the knight next to him let out an involuntary shiver at the sudden drop in temperature. Whilst everyone’s distracted by the flaring of the fire, he slips their fingers together, muttering a few golden words until Leon untenses, leaning slightly into his shoulder to soak up his warmth. The knight turns his head, dipping a quick peck to Merlin’s shoulder and muttering a quiet:

“Thank you, Merls.”

Merlin’s grin grows, and if another flash of his eyes has the flames morph into a Dragon, swirling around the circle and conveniently blocking the two from view? Well... no one notices. Everyone cheers as the fire roars and spits and flies about, and Merlin copies Leon’s earlier affection, pressing a kiss to the knight’s shoulder before letting his head fall to rest there softly. He waits until everyone’s excitement over the Dragon peters out completely before lifting his head, and reluctantly wishing it away.

It wasn’t that they were ashamed, but the relationship was special and new and just for them. It wasn’t anyone’s business, and though they loved their friends endlessly, they weren’t quite prepared for the questions and prying and teasing that came with them knowing. That, and the two of them had a bet going: would Arthur have seen it coming, or would he be caught completely off guard? 

Leon would go as far as to say that Arthur already knew, what with how long and how well he knew them both. Merlin thought the exact opposite, the man was oblivious; it took Merlin saying “Arthur, I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, but you’re in love with Gwen.” for him to realise his own feelings. At which point The King had gone “Fuck. How long?” and Merlin had to tell him that it had been, unfortunately, years.

Thankfully for everyone (the pining really was unbearable) the two had quickly sorted themselves out, and were sitting on the opposite side of the circle to Merlin and Leon, hands intertwined under Arthur’s cloak in a way that they thought was subtle, but really wasn’t.

Merlin silently congratulates himself on all that he had achieved (including their union), and by default, thanks the heavens for giving him Leon, an expression of gratitude that he asserts often; the First Knight was the only reason Merlin felt worthy enough to give himself the credit he deserves. He spent the first ten years of his life in Camelot absolutely certain that he was the monster under the bed inspiring bravery in others, yes he was... essential, in a way, but he was by no means a hero. That, and he was convinced that Arthur would’ve managed just fine on his own, at which point he once again has to remind himself of how much of a dumbass The King can be sometimes.

The laughter is boisterous, fuelled by good alcohol and rich food and a buzzing happiness that they all want to hold on to forever. Merlin takes a few more seconds to quietly observe before throwing himself into reminiscent conversation, reminding everyone, much to Arthur’s chagrin, of the stint of time he had spent braying like a donkey. Arthur retaliates by bringing up the time he and Gwaine found Merlin head to toe covered in mud; the Warlock raises a challenging eyebrow at that, stating that, in no uncertain terms, if Arthur wanted to turn this into a competition on who had seen the other do the most stupid shit... then Merlin would definitely win.

Arthur grumbles some more, but can’t help the grin that spreads across his face when Gwen pats his shoulder consolingly. The bright smile on Merlin’s face certainly helps as well; Arthur had been deliberately ignorant of the way Merlin was suffering for years, choosing to ignore cracks in the man’s façade because it wasn’t what he wanted to see. He hadn’t realised quite how dark his manservant’s eyes had gotten, how fake his smile was, until the brightness returned on the day of the ban repeal.

He’d never quite stopped kicking himself for not realising sooner, and he figured if Merlin taking the piss occasionally and knocking him down a peg is what gave him that wide smile... then Arthur was just fine with that. He would begrudgingly admit, to no one but himself, that it was probably good for his ego as well.

The evening slowly dims around them, but no one’s spirits drop with the sun, instead being elevated to even higher levels in the moonlight.

~

Darkness had fallen an hour or so ago, and a gentle lull in the conversation has everyone staring into the flames tenderly, thanking whatever deities they each believed in, or perhaps just the universe itself, for granting them such a golden chance at perfection. There were still bandits and difficult trade negotiations, still slavery in neighbouring Kingdoms and beasts roaming the wilds, but Camelot was prospering, and the world would soon follow.

Merlin, in a fit of...courage or sentimentality or something else equally as soft and warm, swelling in his lungs and up his throat and down to his fingertips, untangles his hand from Leon’s and mutters a few words, waiting for the inevitable weight to materialise in to his lap. Everyone feels the familiar prickle of magic, but no one looks away from the fire, and Merlin feels that gratefulness crackle in every bone of his body; never before had he dared to imagine a time when the feel of magic didn’t make his friends even a little bit afraid.

No one bar Leon notices what he’s summoned, not at first, not until his fingers, now soft and free of callouses, pluck the first few notes of an old, barely remembered song. They all look to him softly, and though none of them knew he could play, no one dares break the peaceful spell, content to save their questions until another day. The introduction to the song is long, and after he plays it over a few times, Gwen finally speaks, her voice, barely a whisper, carries through the clearing:

“Do you know the words, Merlin?”

He doesn’t stop in his playing, but nods softly, his voice even softer:

“Hmm, yeah, but I’m not much of a singer.”

Gwen widens her eyes and sits up straight, a playfully outraged smirk on her face despite her still gentle tone:

“Liar. I never said anything because I didn’t want you to stop but... you sing while you work. You’ve got a lovely voice, Merlin.”

Merlin flushes slightly and he almost refuses again, but Gwen’s desperate face and Leon’s warm hand on the small of his back encourage him; he smiles gently, taking a breath before softly beginning to sing.

“Her eyes and words are so icey, oh but she burns, like rum on the fire...”

The knights and Morgana all start slightly, taken aback by Merlin’s voice, but Arthur, Gwen, and Gaius just smile to themselves. They’d never heard Merlin sing so deliberately before, but they’d definitely been unintentional audiences to the odd verse, here and there. Leon holds in a grin; part of him was definitely bitter than it was no longer his secret, a guilty pleasure he could indulge whenever sleep eluded him, but he could still do that whenever he wished, and a greater part of him was proud that others got to share in the beauty that was Merlin’s singing voice.

The softness of the moment was captivating in a way that made them wish for the moment to never end, as if they were bathing in starlight or being painted with the colours of a sunset. But they each had to remind themselves that, just like the stars would shine every night and the sun would never stop sinking, Merlin was here to stay; they could ask him to sing at any time.

No one moved an inch as Merlin sang, and though this gathering, with fire and starlight and magic and music, was something they could do every night if they wished, something about this specific event felt special and memorable; they all had a feeling that this image, this atmosphere, would hover in the back of their minds for the rest of their long lives, a reminder of all they once worked for, and all that they worked to keep.

The song comes to a soft ending, and the few second of silence afterwards is too long and too stifling, the absence of Merlin’s ethereal singing too heavy, so no one argues when Arthur softly requests another, nor does Merlin deny them:

“Of all the money that e’er I had, I spent it in good company...”

The lute is plucked again, though not nearly as insistently as before, but no one minds, all accepting easily that the strings were accompanying Merlin’s voice and not vice versa. 

Arthur turns to his love, and no one can find it in themselves to gag or mutter something vulgar when he presses a soft kiss to her forehead; not even Elyan can bring himself to send The King a protective glare.

Gwaine has his eyes closed, hands folded serenely in his lap as he leans his back against a tree, face angled to the starlight. Merlin doesn’t think he’s ever seen the energetic man so calm; he always seem to be on the go, though Merlin always got the impression that his jumpy playfulness was to cover his paranoia and constant need to watch his own back. Percival and Elyan look equally peaceful, in a way that Merlin had never seen in them before; the former had met Lancelot after some sort of terrible disaster had befallen his family, and the latter never stopped carrying the guilt for abandoning his sister. The darkness in their eyes had been a constant until now, and Merlin found himself willing to play forever if it meant the three of them would stay this happy.

Gaius looks ten years younger, the frown lines on his face almost non-existent as he stares at his ward with proud wonder; even Mordred and Morgana, who feel the oppressive weight of their destinies on a constant basis, even now, suddenly look light, like they had no troubles in the world, and knew for certain that it would stay that way forever.

The song comes to a quick close, but Merlin doesn’t need prompting to start another. The Warlock’s eyes are drooping, but his fingers don’t freeze and he uses the long introducing instrumental to press another brave kiss to Leon’s shoulder; Merlin can feel the knight’s soul flare with happiness at the affection, and he wonders why he ever thought he’d need bravery to kiss this man. 

Leon moves his hand to the floor behind Merlin, holding himself up and welcoming the Warlock’s back as he tucks himself into this semi-embrace, still playing. No one seems to notice the casual affection, or if they do, they don’t react, too caught up in their own peace to be bothered about questioning or prying or teasing (though Gwaine, when he cracks an eye open and sees it, definitely makes a mental note to do all of that tomorrow, when the world isn’t quite so still).

The words begin, and though both the lute playing and the lyrics are just a little quicker than the previous songs, no one minds the change in tempo, all happy to sit and listen to whatever Merlin saw fit to play, and frankly, Merlin thought this one was the most fitting of them all.

“Oh, hot sand on toes, cold sand in sleeping bags, I’ve come to know that memories are the best thing we ever had...”

A song all about memories made with friends, warmth in their bones and the feeling of starlight and the blessed morning that they know is coming.

They stay in the clearing until the edge of the sky turns pink and the fire burns down to embers, and whilst they had spent the majority of the night dreading having to return to the real world, they find the walk back to the city is an easy one. They know that, whilst they’re leaving the evening behind, they’re taking more back home with them: a sense of peace, wrapped in a ribbon made of bonfire smoke and starlight.

It goes without saying that Merlin and Leon walk back hand in hand at the back of the group, and Gwaine decides that it isn’t quite tomorrow enough yet for him to start taking the piss.

The world unfreezes, but the peace stays.

~

THE END!!!

Ok so I really wasn’t planning for this one to be so... quiet? I’ve never really written like this before, I think I like it, but I’m not sure, so let me know what you think! :D

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check out This List and let me know which y’all would like next!!

[blog-for-merlin]

someone read this merthur WIP for me bc it was so good writing it <333

Arthur had been going on these rides ever since Morgana's death. He always went alone, but Merlin knew that no matter how far he rode, he'd end up at the grave. The first few times, Arthur would still be out at the early hours of dawn and it was Merlin who'd go out to find him under the willow tree by the lake where Morgana had been laid. Arthur had insisted she be buried, not cremated. I want her by my side. If not in life, at least in death. On those dark mornings Merlin would find his King, so strong and dignified when leading his people, drunk and sobbing on his knees, begging for his sister's forgiveness, always clutching a bouquet of baby's breath. Merlin would crouch down next to the mess that he called his king, cup his face, red from either all that crying or all that mead. He'd wipe away the tears from his cheeks, and let him tell stories from his childhood that he'd heard a thousand times before. He'd hold him in his arms when his voice cracked and the tears came splashing down again and when the first light came, he'd gently pull him up off the ground, use his fingers to comb his sweaty hair, golden in the sun's rays and mount him onto his beloved horse Phillip. Then he'd walk the horse back into Camelot, making sure to enter through the backside of the city walls where Gwaine would be waiting to let them in.

[xviruserrorx]

Title: "Be But Sworn My Love"

I delivered!!! Based off of This post from/for @nextstopparis! Enjoy Roya and everyone else who wanted to see it.

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Relationship: Merlin & Arthur, Merlin/Arthur

Rating: Teen & Up

Warning: None

Word Count: 3,630

A smile grew on his face. "Merlin," He drew out his name.

Merlin's eyes flickered up from his book and gave him an intense glare.

Arthur countered with a smile. He won.

"Merlin?" The teacher called again when he didn't start reading.

Merlin gave the teacher a small nod with a grin, confusing Arthur. He waited to see if Merlin was either going to admit that he wasn't reading the right book or reach into his bag for the correct one, but neither came. Instead, he scoffed lightly as he looked Arthur directly in the eye and smirked.

Continue reading below or over on Ao3

Arthur wasn't having a good week, it was one thing after another of unruly circumstances that only seemed to happen to him. He'd initially put it up to Sunday night when he had neglected to write an essay and left it to be done approximately two hours before the deadline. He had only finished it with five minutes to spare on the clock, though that wasn't the problem.

In the rush to finish, he had fallen asleep and completely forgot to set his alarm for the following morning. As soon as his mother had woken him up that following day, he had thrown on the first thing he saw and rushed out the door. And yet, in all his rush, he had arrived mid-way into his first class, frazzled and with a lecture from the teacher.

The day followed with many missing pencils and pens, along with running into someone and dropping all his books. Granted it was Gwaine, who he lectured as they both picked up his books. Though at least things didn't get worse from there.

But...Tuesday was no better. It had snowed in the middle of the night, leaving everyone thrown off. His alarm had gone off and he had given himself enough time to get ready and eat breakfast but, again, that wasn't his issue.

He had started the car early to warm up but when he went out, he found it was not on. He climbed in and tried to start it, but it sputtered and didn't turn on. His heart skipped a couple of beats as he tried a couple more times. But after too many attempts and many yellings of profanities later, he gave in. Letting his head lay forward on the wheel as he fought back tears of frustration.

He had taken a deep breath and ran back into the house, asking Ygraine if Morgana was awake or had left the house yet. He had received a much grateful no before promptly running to her room, knocking and asking—no, begging for a ride.

With pity, she had agreed. Getting ready herself before she dropped him off and he rushed to class. The bell had rung as he had thrown open the doors. Rules were long forgotten as he ran as fast as he could, down the hallways and up the staircases.

Though not before the sharp turn around the top of the staircase had him tumbling into someone. Papers scattered everywhere of the rather large stack they were holding as they hit the ground.

He normally would have stopped, apologized and helped the person, but he panicked. He fumbled out an apology as he jumped to his feet, not giving the person a second glance as he ran to his class.

Another lecture and warning was received as well as some sympathetic looks from his classmates. The rest of his day did not go much better than the first aside from the news when he returned home that his car started magically working again.

Someone was out to get him. Maybe someone had put a curse on him like the stuff Morgana believed in. Or maybe he just had the worst luck in all of humanity that liked to taunt and tease him out of pure fun.

Nevertheless, Wednesday came. Halfway through the week, he only had to survive three more days, how much worse could it get?

He had given himself extra time for the morning, setting his alarm earlier than the normal time to make sure he was nowhere near being late. All his work was done early in the evening, everything was set out in perfect arrangement so that he wouldn't forget and would be time-efficient.

The day was set up and prepared for him to do good. No weird weather, the car was working, with everything okay, he went to bed at a reasonable time with peace on his mind.

Much as his plan worked, he had time to spare. Texting Lancelot and Gwaine as he took his time eating breakfast. Lancelot teased him about not being late while Gwaine jumped into the conversation halfway in having barely woken up. The man he was, Arthur was jealous of his ability to always somehow be a put together mess of a person.

"Oh, Arthur!"

He turned, hearing his mom's voice calling him.

"Morgana left this for you," She handed him a folded piece of paper from the counter.

He grabbed it and scowled at the messily written words upon the post-it note.

You owe me for yesterday little brother, I had an emergency at work, be a good uncle and take your nephew to school for me.

-love, your favourite big sister

He groaned. Of all days, why today?

Ygraine looked at him, "what's wrong, Arthur?"

"Mom, I'm…" he hesitated to finish his sentence. Mordred's school was on the way to his, plus it was Mordred. As much as he and Morgana disagreed sometimes, he always loved Mordred and was more involved in his life than his and Arthur's father included.

"What does it say?" Ygraine questioned, unaware of the contents of the note.

He shook his head, "nothing, It's okay." He pushed the concern away. "Mordred!" He called as he got up and ran up the stairs. He took them quickly as he rounded the corner till he saw the door with wizard stickers messily placed on the door.

He stopped and knocked before he opened the door. "You ready for school, Bud?" He pushed open the door and was met with a half-dressed four-year-old sitting on the floor. He had his trousers on, though his shirt was missing and so was his left shoe.

Blue eyes looked up at him as he shook his head, "no shoe." He moved his blue sock-clad foot showing Arthur that there was indeed no shoe on his foot.

Arthur scoffed, "I see that, but I don't think that's the main problem here, buddy." He moved to his closet and pulled one of his favourite shirts off the hanger before moving back over to the boy.

"Arms up."

Mordred did as told as Arthur pulled the shirt over his head, quickly getting to work on finding the missing shoe.

"Did grandma or your mom not get you ready?" He asked, searching the room before looking under his bed and finding said missing shoe along with other toys and lost items. He knew one of them had, but what happened between then and him finding Mordred, he didn't know.

He got no answer as Mordred played with his fingers while he tied his shoelaces. "Alright," he lifted him to his feet, "are your teeth brushed?"

With no answer again, Arthur gave him a stern look before the small boy shrugged his shoulders.

"It's okay, go to the bathroom, I'll be there in a second."

Mordred skipped off as he searched the room for what the preschooler needed for the day. He found the backpack and shoved the colours scattered on his bed in, as well as his homework which was just large printed numbers that were supposed to be coloured. He sighed as he zipped it up and glanced at the clock by Mordred's bed.

He was going to be late. Getting up early or not, something just had to happen.

He made quick work of getting Mordred's teeth and hair brushed before getting him out the door and Into the thankfully working car. Trying not to break the law, he successfully dropped Mordred off with minimal repercussions before rushing to his school.

No time was spared checking the clock as he ran out of the car and into the school. Seeing some few people staggering the halls, he let out a sigh of relief. The bell hadn't rung, he wasn't late, finally.

He let his heart rest as he walked to his first class. Glad that he could finally relax so early in the morning and not be in a rush. The halls emptied out as he turned the corner at the top of the staircase, the class just at the end of the hall. He took his time as he reached the door and reached for the door. The doorknob jiggled in his grip but didn't budge. He tried it again to no avail, before he stood back confused.

He pushed the curtain aside as he saw the white of something peak out from under. The words In-Library were scrawled out in black on a paper taped to the door.

He felt his heart drop. No… no, no, no, no, this was not happening! He did everything right, everything as planned, today was supposed to be the day he got off of his streak of bad luck. The library was across the school from his homeroom, walking would take five minutes at the least, but if he ran he would be able to get there in two, maybe less.

He ran off as fast as he could, taking the stairs three at a time as he took the shortest route to the library. His heart raced more as the second he turned the corner from the hallways down to the library, the bell rang. He cursed his stupid heavy bag as he ran the rest of the way, only stopping when he was outside the library, he peaked in.

Lancelot caught his eye from where he was at the back of the tables, he gave him a thumbs up and quickly waved him over.

Arthur took Lancelot's word for it as he sneaked his way in and to the back. There was no teacher and half of the kids were too busy talking or half-asleep to see him as he took the spot next to Lancelot.

He slouched down. "That was close," he sighed in relief. Lancelot patted him on the back as he lightly shook his head.

"Alright," the teacher walked into the room a brief second later, "who was late?"

Lancelot winked at him as he relaxed in his chair. No one saw, only Lancelot and he knew Lance wouldn't rat him out. There was a single second of silence before a voice spoke up.

"Arthur was," some kid chimed in, not even looking up from the book he had his nose dug in.

He shot up in his seat. "Dude!" He hissed under his breath.

"Were you, Arthur?" She looked at him and asked with a cocked eyebrow.

He hesitated before giving in. He sighed, "Yes, ma'am."

"That's the third time this week, once more you'll get a strike on your attendance."

"I know…" he grumbled.

"Thank you for letting me know, Merlin."

The kid looked up from his book for the first time, letting Arthur see his face as he gave the teacher a shit-eating grin.

Asshole…

He left the class the second the bell rang, hardly waiting for Lancelot as he marched out of there.

"Am I gonna have to drag you out of bed myself just for you not to be late, Arthur?" Lancelot came up beside him

He sniffed, "I'm not Gwaine."

"Heard that!" Gwaine ran up beside him with a faux hurt look.

"I would have been perfectly fine today If it wasn't for that Merlin kid," he ranted.

"Oh, Merlin?" Gwaine asked, "He's nice."

"You know him?"

"I told you, he's a nice guy once you get to know him. Lancelot would agree."

He looked at Lancelot who gave him a half sympathetic look with a half shrug of his shoulders.

He scoffed, "Yeah, whatever." He brushed them both off as all three piled into their next class, English.

"Alright, class, we're going to pick up where we left off yesterday." She held up Romeo and Juliet, "Would anyone like to volunteer?"

He looked around with others as no hands shot up and no one said a single word.

"Alright then. Lancelot," she called as his head shot up to attention, "would you be so kind to start us off?"

Lancelot nodded and looked down as he flipped a couple of pages, "scene two?"

She nodded.

He took a breath as he started Romeo's dialogue.

"He Jests at scars that never felt a wound…"

Arthur slouched in his seat as Lancelot trailed off reading the rest of Romeo's dialogue. He was exhausted and wanted to take a nap even though he had just woken up. And now he had to stress about his attendance being marked thanks to asshole number one who ratted him out.

His eyes flickered over said asshole, his nose buried in the same thick book from earlier that wasn't the play they were reading. Arthur looked around thinking maybe it was off to the side but found it not even pulled out. He scoffed, not only was he an asshole but he was a cocky asshole at that. Risking getting called on without even having the right book out that they were all reading and working on.

Arthur felt a small grin grow on his face as he got an idea. It would definitely be a real shame if he was called on and wasn't even reading the right book.

As turns passed he looked ahead to see the longest passage coming up. Gwen read the last of her dialogue as she looked up. He discreetly waved to Gwen, getting her attention and pointing to himself. Pick me he mouthed as she furrowed her eyebrows with a confused look on her face.

"Ar-thur…?" She cautiously said.

The teacher's attention shifted to him. "Can you continue the next part?"

He nodded and looked past the next piece of dialogue which read Romeo's line. He cleared his throat.

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak of this?"

"Good," she said. "Next?"

A smile grew on his face. "Merlin," He drew out his name.

Merlin's eyes flickered up from his book and gave him an intense glare.

Arthur countered with a smile. He won.

"Merlin?" The teacher called again when he didn't start reading.

Merlin gave the teacher a small nod with a grin, confusing Arthur. He waited to see if Merlin was either going to admit that he wasn't reading the right book or reach into his bag for the correct one, but neither came. Instead, he scoffed lightly as he looked Arthur directly in the eye and smirked.

"Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague."

Arthur's smile fell as he felt his heart start to pound out of pure anger. What was he doing? That was impossible, he was supposed to get his payback.

Eyes stayed locked as the poem was recited line by line from perfect memory without a single stutter.

"What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet; So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, Retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name. And for that name which is no part of thee take all myself."

Each word hit like an arrow to the heart as the last words fell off of Merlin's tongue with mirth and his head held high.

Arthur tightened his jaw and gripped the corner of the book in his hand harder and harder. He wanted to scream, to throw the stupid book across the room and for it to boomerang back and knock him unconscious for the rest of the godforsaken day—maybe week. He felt himself scoff in disbelief, his head slightly shaking as he tried to control his anger. Though the control was increasingly fading and slipping away.

Almost to antagonize him, Merlin's eyebrow popped up in a quick flick while a smug grin plastered his face. He won, he knew it and now he was rubbing it in Arthur's face.

Arthur had to take a deep breath as his feet dug into the floor and his hands battered the edges of the book in his hands. That little—

"Gee, get a room, you two," he heard someone mumble under their breath. A series of giggles and stifled smiles all followed, some in agreement.

Arthur broke the staring match with Merlin as they both looked at the person who said the comment.

"Gwaine," the teacher chided him.

He held up his hands in defence, "Just saying what we're all thinking Miss."

"What?!" He and Merlin both exclaimed at the same time. They glared at one another.

"I don't even like him!" They both pleaded at the same time, only increasing the laughter in the room and their own individual anger.

He caught Merlin's eyes again before the teacher hushed everyone down, yet with a smile of her own. "That's enough everyone. Merlin," she looked towards him, "choose the next person."

"Gwaine," Merlin called out. Hiding a chuckle with his hand as he shook his head. He looked at him one last time with vainglorious triumph before going back to his book. The spine reading, Le Morte d'Arthur…

Arthur didn't want to admit it, but he sulked the rest of the day. Lancelot and Gwaine laughed and teased him about it, while the latter made things worse with jokes and whatnot. Lancelot offered him much more sympathy but it was a cover for his hidden humour at the situation as well.

He was glad when the end of the day finally rolled around, being able to ditch Lancelot, Gwaine, and the whole blasted school. He wanted to go home, throw himself in bed and cocoon himself in blankets so he could wallow in his own self-pitied misery.

He trudged his way to his car and fumbled with his keys as he opened the door. Much to his non-existent luck, he dropped them on the floor. He threw his head back to the sky before he bent down to get them. Though a hand came into view, black nail polish caught the light as they reached his keys first and held them out.

"Thank—Oh...It's you," his voice fell at the sight of his torment that day.

Merlin plopped the keys down into his hands, "You're welcome." He rounded his car and stopped at the one next to his.

Of course, Arthur had to park right next to him. Out of the whole place, he had to choose that one exact place.

"Enjoy your payback?" Merlin chimed with glee.

He scoffed, "Payback? Cause I was the one who ratted someone out for coming in two seconds late? That was supposed to be my payback to you!"

"Well, it was mine to you," Merlin said with another sassy grin as he got to the driver's side of the car.

"For what?!"

"Oh, I don't know, how about running into me in that hallway, knocking me down and not even giving me a second glance?"

Oh… Arthur really should have stopped to see who it was he had knocked into. He groaned, "I said sorry!"

He smirked, "better luck next time, Pendragon." He opened his car door and moved to get in.

"Wait!"

Merlin stopped and stood with the door open.

"How did you do that, the Romeo and Juliet?"

He scoffed, "I played Juliet's part in a play." He ducked down into the car and turned the keys in the ignition.

Arthur stood for a moment, before cohering his thoughts. He bent down and looked through the open window on the passenger side. "Don't you mean Romeo?"

Merlin gave him a light but humorous soft smile, "Goodbye, Arthur."

He stood back as Merlin pulled out of the parking spot and watched him drive off. He stood, letting his arms fall limp to his sides. Blinked… he felt in a daze. He weakly shook his head as he situated himself and got in his car. He looked at his keys in hand before sticking them in the ignition.

The day was weird, the whole week was weird. Maybe he would ask Morgana about curses, spells and anything else when he could. That started to be the only viable reason for everything in his head.

He got home still in a daze, barely recognizing his welcome hug as his lower half was tackled by Mordred.

Morgana stood in the kitchen, chopping up fruit and vegetables onto a platter. She spared him a glance as Mordred let him go so he could walk over to her.

"How was your day?"

"Fan-fucking-tastic…" he plopped down onto the island chair.

She chuckled, "that bad?"

"You have no idea."

She walked and disappeared behind him with a small plate of what she cut up, presumably giving it to Mordred. A hand ruffled his hair as she quickly reappeared, pushing the rest of the fruit between them, she leaned over across from him.

"Try me."

Granted, he should have known not to tell his big sister something that could be used against him, but to his surprise, there wasn't that much teasing. She took pity on him, though he left out his and Merlin's last encounter. Leaving something only for him and Merlin to know.

Why exactly? He couldn't tell. Words plague his mind for the rest of the day till he laid looking up at his ceiling from his bed in the dark of the night. The small encounter should have faded as did every conversation and non-important memory of the day, but it didn't or maybe he didn't let it.

Something else he couldn't understand. But even when the last image in his mind that night was that stupid smug grin that faded into the soft sweet smile… who was he to say.

[weakforarwen]

Rewatching Queen of Hearts after Arthur's Bane, Arthur and Gwen's growth are amazing. As King, Arthur disappointed me, but I really appreciate the strength and confidence he projected, even if he was faking it sometimes. I can't tell if I prefer King Arthur or Prince Arthur, but I probably like the Arthur of The Coming of Arthur the most, and season 1 Prince Arthur over seasons 2 and 3 Prince Arthur.

In Queen of Hearts, he and Gwen were still so hesitant around each other, even after years of liking each other (if you count each season as a year, plus the year long gap between seasons 2 and 3). The first time Arthur confessed to loving Gwen was late season 2, in Sweet Dreams, and he did it again in The Castle of Fyrien, early season 3. If they had loved each other for so long, shouldn't their relationship have been more evolved at this point? It was still so underdeveloped.

There was little progress in season 2, though we knew they liked each other, and I can understand why - it was a combination of Uther, Lancelot, Arthur and Gwen's personalities, and the novelty of their feelings. Nevertheless, their relationship still progressed somewhat, culminating with a mutual admission of their feelings in Sweet Dreams. Sadly, Gwen pulled away from Arthur at the end of the episode, but, in spite of that, the season ended with Gwen figuratively and literally embracing their relationship. Arthur saved Gwen from Kilgharrah's rage in the Last Dragonlord and told her he couldn't have let anything happen to her - distance hadn't lessened his feelings for her; then, Gaius gave Gwen hope for their relationship when he told her love could make the impossible possible, and Gwen ran into Arthur's arms, in public.

Gwen had been bold enough to embrace Arthur in front of everyone, so it was a bit sad to see that in The Tears of Uther Pendragon she was back to distancing herself from Arthur. Even if she ran into Arthur's arms in the season 2 finale, it had been a very emotionally charged moment for her, and nothing had changed since - they still couldn't be. It was frustrating though, that their relationship couldn't really evolve. It had been a year since season 2, but in that year, Arthur had been away most of the time, which also justified the lack of progress in their relationship. But wouldn't they have missed each other terribly, enough to throw caution to the wind?

In Goblin's Gold and Gwaine, it was more of the same - despite everything, they still loved each other, so they got jealous and wanted to look good in front of the other - nothing deeper than that... Everything changed in The Changeling though. Their fears actually came true and they were forced, once and for all, to make a choice. Gwen had been ready to give up in the beginning, and I can't blame her because Arthur wasn't the type to disobey Uther, but Arthur chose Gwen in the end. And Gwen didn't push Arthur away afterwards. Progress, right? In the Castle of Fyrien, Arthur again proved his love, and showed Gwen he would be her person - Gwen was used to looking after people, like her brother, but Arthur showed her he would be her support system. In The Eye of the Phoenix, Arthur and Gwen's relationship seemed to have become more domestic, but Gwen was still surprised he kissed her.

Truly, despite multiple professions of unconditional love, their relationship evolved very, very slowly, or not at all. In Queen of Hearts, Arthur and Gwen were still immature and awkward around each other. For a couple that couldn't go on dates or be seen together, that wasn't exactly unexpected, but it was still a shame. Arthur couldn't even admit to Morgana that he loved Gwen. He said he had "such feelings for her" and was surprised when Morgana said Gwen felt the same. How was he surprised? Maybe not surprised, but happy that his crush talked about him to her friend.

At least, Queen of Hearts truly and irreversibly changed things for them. Their relationship being exposed made it realer. I think Uther's cruelty lit up a fire inside Gwen. She became even more certain that Arthur had to become King, and finally chose to believe in their love and wait for him - I mean, she had already been waiting for him, and would've waited regardless of her fears, but I think, from this episode onward, she became fearless. She wasn't scared of Uther anymore. I think she saw the power she had over Arthur and that emboldened her. She wanted to see him become King and she'd be by his side, watching over him and encouraging him, until he did - for the love of Camelot. She wanted to defy Uther and show him a servant could marry a King.

I hope no one thinks I'm implying Gwen's feelings for Arthur weren't genuine. But, naturally, Gwen feared one day a princess would come along and Arthur wouldn't be able to talk himself out of marrying her - Uther's hold on Arthur was too strong. But, as Gwen learned in this episode, her hold on Arthur was stronger, and he truly believed he belonged with her.

Anyway, funny how Arthur "fell" for Vivian in a day and Uther thought nothing of it, but when he fell for a servant, it was "suspicious".

I know Arthur had no way of helping Gwen without leaving with her, which wouldn't have boded well for the series. I also assume Arthur had been making arrangements with his guards when he saw Dragoon walk by. But, his inaction regarding Gwen's predicament was unfortunate. That's something so frustrating about seasons 2 and 3, in particular. In season 1, Arthur was a lot more involved, a lot more independent, a lot more capable. But the more powerful Merlin became the less they allowed Arthur to do. How was Arthur suppose to become a great King if he couldn't do anything himself?

Merlin told Gwen Arthur had been trying to convince Uther to spare her and that he would do everything to save her. I know he wasn't stupid enough to think talking to Uther would work. The episode would've been considerably more romantic had we first seen Arthur's solo attempts at saving Gwen, perhaps culminating in their escape before getting caught by the guards, and only then should Merlin have stepped in to save the day like we knew he would. The episode quickly became Merlin-centric, and he didn't need the screentime.

I think Queen of Hearts is a bit disappointing. After the shock and excitement of watching it for the first time, it's an average episode, and Gwen and Arthur's relationship should've been way more developed at this stage. That is what I like about season 4 - Arthur was sure of, and open about, his feelings for Gwen, and she, in turn, was confident in, and of, their relationship. Gwen and Arthur were very much happy together. The will-they-won't-they, schoolboy and schoolgirl crush, phase of their relationship went on for too long.

I do love all the Arwen moments we got in this episode though! But I prefer more settled, mature relationships. I really do love Arwen more in season 4, despite Arwen and Gwen's lack of screentime. If only Gwen had been allowed to have a bigger role in the series... Same with season 5.