#One of thee merlin Arthur moments for sure

[tink-wondering]

TITLE FOR THE THING FOR MERTHUR: I yearn for thee

So, I hope you will forgive me because here is the second proposal and it is mostly fluff... with a sprinkle of Gaius (sounds weird, but you'll see when you get to that part, wherein Gaius is also fluffy).

Same ask game as usual.

Here's a follow-up to yesterday's post (Pride & Prejudice AU, kinda)

Rated: Gen/T

Words: 999

I yearn for thee

“Lord Pendragon!” Merlin asks, surprised.

“What are you doing out here at this time?”

“I could not sleep.”

Merlin stares and stares and stares. How the new dawn has changed his perception of the man! He is glowing in the morning sun, his hair in disarray giving him a rambunctious look, opposite of his reputation, though he still seems unsure on how to act in Merlin’s presence.

“I could not either,” Lord Pendragon says slowly. “My night has been restless to say the least.”

Merlin doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he looks down. His outlook of Lord Pendragon may have changed, but the man will surely remember Merlin’s last words to him; he has kept his promise and minimized their interactions since then. Now, Merlin feels lost. How do you say to a man you have abhorred—and revealed outwardly such animosity—that your feelings have changed.

A gentle finger under his chin slowly tilts his head back up. “Am I so loathsome still that you can’t even look at me?”

“No, on the contrary!” Merlin breathes out, as lost as before but in a sea of blue this time. Lord Pendragon’s eyes look at him with so much kindness and fondness still, he can barely believe it. “It should be you who refuses to look at me for I have been nothing but an insolent child towards you.”

“You have not,” Lord Pendragon counters. “You have done nothing but bring the best out of me, even calling me out on my haughty behaviour. And I must sincerely apologize for my proposal”—he chuckles, depreciating—“I have talked to Leon and Morgana about it, and my words were ill-conceived. I am not surprised they were received so poorly, but if there is any chance your feelings have changed since then, know that my affection and admiration towards you are still as strong and deep.” Merlin remains silent, unbelieving. “I know you have spoken to Lord du Bois last night, and it has lead me to hope. Your continued presence gives me faith, but one word from you will silence me forever.”

“Then, before your lips are sealed, you must know that not only my sentiments have changed, but my heart now beats only for you. You have brought my friend, my family and I so much joy. I must thank you!” Merlin says, almost in an afterthought amidst his confession. “I know of the kindness you have bestowed upon sweet Gwen and Lancelot by funding her dot. That is not mentioning the hand, I suspect, you have played into saving poor Gwaine and ensuring his reputation remains intact.”

“Mr. Emrys, please,” Lord Pendragon interrupts, sheepish. “I have done those things only with your happiness in mind. I am alarmed that you know of those happenings considering I tried to keep them silent, but once again, you are always the one I think of when I act. So, if your… inclination towards me is merely a product of my actions, then I thank you. However, none of my deeds where accomplished with the thought to trap you.”

“Trap me?” Merlin exclaims. “Lord Pendragon, I am indeed trapped. Though these bars have been construed out of my own folly. My heart beats for you because I have seen your kindness, your compassion, your—dare I say—love?”

“Say it all you want, Merlin,” he says hesitantly, but at Merlin’s nod, a smile overtakes his features. “Because you have bewitched me, and I love and love and love you. If I may be so bold, one more time, I do not wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Merlin’s eyes fill with tears. He has never believed it Lord—Arthur, his mind says; Arthur, his soul screams; Arthur, his heart rejoices—would still feel the same.

Arthur very slowly, very gently—as though Merlin is a frightened bird—takes his face in his hands and leans down to press a tender kiss to his lips. Merlin catches his hands around his face and closes his eyes, and the kiss becomes passionate, emotions finally unraveled.

***

“Is this truly your heart’s desire?” Gaius asks him with a raised eyebrow.

“It is,” Merlin answers fervently. “It most ardently is!”

“I thought the man didn’t strike your fancy,” Gaius says with a fond smile.

“He did not at first, but I have misjudged him… so wrongly.” Merlin laughs at his own idiocy and prejudice. “He is nothing but a kind, gentle soul. A man whose heart is—and has always been—in the right place, despite is countenance saying otherwise. It is I who was too foolish to see past my enmity.”

“I am so glad you have finally found love, Merlin.” Gaius stands up, bones cracking, to hug him tightly. After a few seconds, he lets go to look at him, hands still bracketing his shoulders warmly, eyes a little misty. “I was starting to despair you would ever find happiness with another and be settled with an old man like me for the rest of your life.”

“It would have been my pleasure to stay by your side as long as needed.”

“I have raised four of you, and my wish has always been your happiness.” Gaius wipes the tears at the corner of his eyes, and with a laugh, he adds, “Now, let your gentleman in so I can speak with him. See if he is really worthy of you.”

“He is! More than anything else, and it is I who is not worthy.”

Merlin looks outside the window where Arthur is pacing back and forth amidst the chicken. He is a picture of nervousness, a side Merlin has never seen before. Or rather, a side he has never let himself see, knowing the moment he would find an ounce of humanity in the man, he would fall desperately, expeditiously and irrevocably in love.

And he did.

He still does.

A little more with every passing moment.

[emachinescat]

By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat ​

@febuwhump​ day 19 - sleep deprivation 

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.”  In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well.  Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.”  In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember.  His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day.  No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way.  It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again.  He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter.  Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie.  Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend.  “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him.  The wizard sighed.  “I’m sorry, Archie.  I just don’t want to talk, that's all.”  He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.  

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise.  He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal.  The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random.  He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana. 

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either.  He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.  

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you.  I want no part of a world without you in it.  And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.  

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look.  “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously.  “It was my fight.  And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled.  “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.”  A terrible, eternal beat of silence.  Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all.  It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.”  With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance.  Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take.  Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left.  His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep.  Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one.  He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots.  They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice.  He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff.  “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man.  You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak.  He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home.  Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.  

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie.  Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal.  “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.  

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone.  Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.  

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted.  “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?”  He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door.  He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home.  Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head.  Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar.  After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.  

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness.  A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm.  He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet.  He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim.  The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two.  “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion.  Shouldn’t she know what happened?  She had been there, for parts of it, at least.  She’d heard about the rest.  He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord.  This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin.  Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!”  He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him.  Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep.  He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it.  Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.  

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone.  “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand.  Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.  

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said.  “And you look sick.  You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself.  At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly.  “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her.  “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all.  Then I’ll sleep.”  It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep.  He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters.  And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone.  He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern.  He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief.  “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.  

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on?  How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak.  He’d lived 701 years.  He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections.  Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal.  The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone.  That wasn’t true.  Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really.  The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.  

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention.  If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked.  “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all.  But, honestly, it was my friends.  But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head.  “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly.  “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely.  He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him.  Dream-Merlin had been right.  He didn’t deserve it.  “Don’t you see?  It’s my fault Merlin’s dead.  I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face.  For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him.  He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had.  Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter.  He’d not been in control of his own mind.  Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault.  You weren’t you.  But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend.  Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience.  “It wasn’t your fault.  You did everything you could to save Merlin.  You took a sword in the gut for him.”  Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.  

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in.  “You’re a hero.  You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.”  He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him.  “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion.  You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation.  Magic reacts to your emotions.  And Jim’s right.  What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added.  “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off.  He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside.  He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave?  Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice?  It was like what I did didn’t matter.  I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend.  Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes.  That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life.  Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it.  Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie.  “This was not your fault.  And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted.  “But then he didn’t.  Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up.  Something raw lingered in his eyes.  “It’s the lies you are telling yourself.  I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before.  “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands.  Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me.  For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies.  Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know.  And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.”  He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.  

“I miss him too.”  Archie repeated his words from a few days ago.  “And I am here for you, Douxie.”  He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened.  No one does.  The Merlin in your dreams is not real.  He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth.  The real Merlin told you.  Jim and Claire told you.  And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre.  And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do.  No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest.  “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple.  A giant bruise.  He chuckled, a bit madly.  

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time.  “I think you really need to lie down now.  You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down.  Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim.  “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again.  Remember that we’re here for you.  None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart.  “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer.  He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.  

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head.  “Let him sleep.  He needs it.”  

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize.  Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.

[blog-for-merlin]

A WIP DON’T KILL ME I’M A SHITTY NEW WRITER

i mean i know it’s not very good but if for any reason you like this, don’t steal it please!!! also give me you’re harshest critique, i will really appreciate it!!! tell me what you hate and what you like

The dear dark-haired boy who I've grown so fond of over the short time I've known him, pulls me along eagerly by the hand. He looks so happy. I've never seen that much joy on his face before. His smile is contagious and I can't help but grin as I happily let him guide me through the trees. Merlin follows hot on my heels, looking left and right, far and wide, even though we're almost half a day from Camelot.

The western sun splits shadows through the treetops and for a second in its ethereal light, everything shines––the leaves, the ground, Mordred. The mindless chirping of the forest birds sounds like a symphony of the most beautiful music. I feel so at peace. I'm not even there yet, but in this moment, between a giddy young Druid boy dragging me through a forest and a loving friend who would risk his life for me, I feel the most comfortable and loved that I've been in a long time. Maybe the most I've ever been. As if he can sense my thoughts, Mordred turns to me, slowing his pace but not stopping. In his smile, I can feel it. Something I've never felt before, yet I know exactly what it is. Home. Right on cue, a hand gently cups my shoulder. Merlin offers a reassuring smile–– the best he can do in his puffing out of breath state.

I realise that we're making our way along the side of a small valley. The forest to our side extends for a few yards until it reaches a drop. I'm too far to see how steep the drop is, but I doubt we're very high. Under the covering of the giant oak trees, the valley would be hidden from far sight. The perfect hiding place. The perfect home.

Mordred pulls me closer to the edge. We're approaching a group of huge boulders by the side of the drop. The rocks are wedged between the roots of a giant tree. It must be hundreds of year old. The rocks look like they've been embedded into the soil. 

Mordred slows to a jog, then a walk, "There. Behind the boulders."

Merlin bends over, gripping his knees, wheezing. "It's here? Are you sure?"

I wait a moment to catch my breath. "This is it," I whisper. This is all I've ever wanted. People who will accept me. Love me, regardless of what dreams I have. Regardless of what dark truths my nightmares reveal to me. Regardless of what cursed things my eyes show me. A place where there are others. Other like me, like Mordred. I let out a suppressed chuckle of disbelief. It all feels so unreal. This is it. This is what I've been craving since as long as I can remember. No more nightmares. No more hiding.

"Morgana?" Merlin walks to stand across me. He grips my shoulders. Looks me right in the eyes. I see nothing but love and care. What did I ever do to deserve such a friend? "They'll love you. I promise. If I can see the goodness within you, then the Druids, who have lived to see the goodness in the world, will be able to see it. You'll be happy."

I nod. My eyes are stinging. I hope he's right. I try and fail to keep in a single tear that slides down my cheek. Will it be all I've ever hoped for? Mordred stand there, watching on. He's trying his best to be polite, but he's clearly getting impatient. He hasn't seen his home and his people for days now. "You can go Mordred. Go ahead. Just give me a minute. Tell them I'm here." He takes a sharp breath, then smiles and nods. He sprints to the rear of the largest boulder and disappear behind it.

I grip Merlin's forearm. He places an encouraging hand aver mine, "Ready?" he asks.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, inhaling the joy, the comfort, the peace that I feel. It's now or never. "Ready."

We make our way behind the stone. There's a flight of steps carved down the side of the valley's drop. It winds down into a tunnel right through the side of the earth. We march through thee dark tunnel, careful not the trip over roots. They must be the roots of the ancient tree. The tunnels turns to a slight slope. We can see a bright light at the end. Distant laughter echoes through the tunnel. Children. Snippets of chatter and clanging and singing float through to us. There are two silhouettes waiting for us in the light at the end. I can make out Mordred's shadow standing by them.

As we get to the end, I can see it all. It doesn't look real. It looks like something you'd hear in a child's tale. It is a beautiful sanctuary. Ribbons are tied to trees and vines and sticks everywhere. Tents are set up all over the place. A small river runs along the side of it. Trees surround the entire site and I wonder how it's possible that an open space can exist so far below the forests we were running though just moments ago. Children are shouting and yelping and running all over the place, their mothers running after them with bowls full of porridge. Men and women emerge from tents to join those who are already gathering around large pot sitting on a fire. A small crowd had formed close to the end of the tunnel. Excited faces watch with squinted eyes and necks crane to get a look at us. The intruders. I hesitate.

"Morgana!" Mordred's voice instantly sets me at ease as the boy bounds up to us, tugging at both Merlin's and my arms, "Farah! Farah, look!" I the light, we can clearly see the two who stand at the entrance to the tunnel, waiting for us. They are two women. The elder one has a kind smile and twinkling eyes. She's maybe a bit younger that Gaius. She wears a faded red cloak and her hair is tied back neatly in a plait.

The other women is younger. My age perhaps. She is gorgeous. She has auburn hair, similar in colour to that of fire. Her fiery locks are let out in wild untamed curls. Her face is a perfect canvas for the freckles that are speckled all over her nose and cheeks. She wears a large crumpled white tunic, similar to something Arthur might wear, half tucked into a pair of worn brown trousers. She wears no shoes and has a sword in a scabbard fastened to her belt. She stands with a slight frown and her arms crossed. She is stunning.

"So," she glares as we approach, "You're the seer. One of Uther's own." My heart plummets. One of Uther's own? I look to Merlin. His lips are thinned and his eyes set sternly, but he gives me a confident nod.

[iwannawritepls]

Le Morte d’Arthur Thoughts P5

Book 2 Chapter 11

Where's her fifth son

Who

How is this supposed to be all Owain because I know they change his name every now and then don't they

Arthur has masonry skills

I didn't know that it was a lot that died I thought Pellinore had died and I was just like now I don't really care – I didn’t like Lot

Is Balin trying to kill Arthur because if he is then why did he run from Arthur’s Castle surely he would just stab him and then leave ?

Oh no, I liked the other one I get their names mixed up

oh that's so cool. you know what else will do that cling film

Wait so Arthur doesn't ever have excalibur's scabbard Morgan le Fay gives it to her lover that’s low key really smart and wow I applaud her

Book 2 Chapter 12

7 chapters more I don't know I haven't counted actually that's a lie

Oh no Arthur’s sick no

look I know this is the beginning of Hamlet so if he gets poison in the ear he's gonna die

I'm sorry you know just big rip

Okay if people can just walk in and on their horses – this is a really shitty Castle

I'm so confused I thought he wanted to kill Arthur but now he doesn't want to kill Arthur where's his brother gone I'm so confused

‘By my head’ he would say by my beard but he doesn't have one ha ha ha

Wait what will you do

um wait so he doesn't hate Arthur but he ran away from Arthur because reasons Arthur imprisoned him and then he got a cursed sword from ‘the falsest damsel that liveth’ so now they’re just chilling and they’re friends in this? I think I prefer it when people sleep with other people’s wives because then I know they hate each other, you know

I'm not gonna lie I don't know what I just read but is that new for me?

Confused counter: 10

Book 2 Chapter 13

don't you hate it when you get to a new castle and its customary for you to bleed before you can enter

Oh no I think I understand wait maybe

I don't think Gawain hasn’t killed Pellinore apparently he's still going to which is confusing

also isn't this a blood feud at this point is it's there's just a lot of ‘this person will kill this person because they killed this person’ and you're like ‘ohh no…who is this person’ you get me?

Alas indeed yeah like why are these like prophecies coming to people who are going to die. You just can't give this message to anyone because they don't know half of the people it's like it's like giving your McDonald's order to the wrong table and being like well can you just go give that to the right table then without telling them who the right table is how is that gonna help anyone in anyway why can't you just take it back and give it to the right table you're the one who's better suited to this than me (but I would probably be like yeah and then if they told me that I would probably but like – that's besides the point I'm just really polite but you know) it's just kinda like why why why

I love that word so much portcullis

oh shit he got trapped under it

The requirements for these curses are so specific yet so general at the same time And I love it but also like how is how like why isn't anyone going out to solve these themselves why does everyone have to stay where they are can no one like leave their houses to go solve their problems have some agency people

I like how they just bring up people that we're not gonna meet for probably half a book like ohh yeah by the way possible is going to help play okay also it spelt Percivale and I love that

Book 2 Chapter 14

That's such a great name

oh he – he kills him

what

please chapter titles getting weirder and weirder

I feel like balling deserves more recognition true he's going out like just murdering a bunch of people which is kind of weird because like what's your reason behind this but at the same time like he's got a pretty cool Storey

you just know him casual

this King is so forthcoming with knowledge like ah I know exactly what you mean yeah let me tell you the Storey of how I smoothed my brother twice haha

They say smoked him with the back of his hand what they really mean is they just slapped him add it hurt but they want to sound hardcore say it makes him sound like he slapped him with fire but you just slapped him and it hurt and there's no shame in that we don't judge here

All these confrontations happen so fast

Book 2 Chapter 15

Yeah he deserves that

This spear is overpowered I would like this fear please um it's just so cool thank you very much

I feel like it's a bit traumatising to be saved by Merlin after being trapped with a dead body for three days or is really gotta start smelling by then especially as it's under the earth so it's very hot and so decompose quicker I just yeah that doesn't sound fun you know

Book 2 Chapter 16

I really can't tell whether or not Merlin loves or hates Balin because you know I love him um but you know I understand why people might not he is a bit of a crazy man I think someone I can tell

Oh no Oh my God my God God

fun have I got a picture on next page? No.

Yes King you tell that creepy swamp monster what's what

that's a bit of an oof moment

oh this is the Fisher King everything makes sense now ohmygod can we take numbers away from the confused counter it's all just wow Oh my God this is genius

I'm so easily impressed I just need things to make sense at this point in this book and I'll just be like wow

nothing good ever happens to this man nothing

Balin curse counter: 4

He must just really hate himself if you really think about all because he just took a sword from the ‘falsest damsel that liveth’

just live in the forest then no one can hurt you and you can hurt no one

is this Robin Hood

Eve

everyone is just like you're so cool he's also really cursed

I keep thinking about 90 day fiancé

my brother just walked in on me talking about 90 day fiancé looks at me as if I'm crazy

anyway I keep thinking about 90 day fiancé and really I just don't like big head he's funny as a concept but as a person he's a bit of a dick and I'm so happy that rose managed to you know get out there that relationship because he was just a bit of an asshole really wasn't he?

anyway back to the book um Balin bout to kill a woman just because she wasn't on time and if that was the case then all of my friends would be dead because I am always early

his name is Garnish his name is Garnish,,,

go on darling I believe in you

Oh no ohh no no no

Oh no that's so mean ‘the foulest knight that he ever saw’ like dude calm yourself

All of these superlatives before we even get to the good parts (when I say good parts I mean the parts people know the most so like Gawain and Galahad and Lancelot and the other ones) we've already had ‘the falsest damsel’ and ‘the foulest knight’ and the’ strongest King’ like we're just gonna have the kind of strong but not the strongest because the strongest is already dead you know

so, does that mean Lancelot isn't the best knight because Balin is

also this has a lot of like internal monologues in this I'm so sorry to everyone I really hope you've enjoyed this I've really cut down me talking because you know I don't want to bore you with my rants about superlatives

Book 2 Chapter 17

what the hell

he got so sad that his blood pressure shot so high that he started bleeding out of his mouth and nose I…find yourself a man who does that you know (jk don’t do that he’s probably not the healthiest in relationships)

everywhere he goes corpses follow

you killed her yourself it was your own choice to kill her

Now lady he swore fighting because last time he did that the that one Irish knight died and then his wife killed herself the knight his name was like Launcelot but it wasn't I Lancelone or something (some searching later) Lancelor

I don't know why but the very concept of putting a Knight and a horse in a boat together is just hilarious because I picture the boat being like a little row boat with the horse and then the knight sitting on the horses back full gear full saddle full Armour this boat is like barely floating and yeah it's just pretty funny

Book 2 Chapter 18

I'm not looking forward to this chapter because brothers against brothers is not fun to read

Oh no who

no

oh no please don't do this to me

why doesn't anyone ever take that helmet off

oh gosh hello goodnight that's so sad

Oh no they realised its each other

‘thou hast slain me and I thee for all the wide world shall speak of us both’ – Balin or Balan a long time ago

Alexa play despacito

I hate to say it but you know it was prophesised so it was going to happen but at the same time didn't really wanna put myself through that

on the plus side nobody slept with someone's wife

this is what happens when you just run the head first into battle you know

what is a Yeoman (a man holding and cultivating a small landed estate; a freeholder.)

aw so sweet

‘we came both out of one tomb that is to say one mothers belly and so shall we lie both in one pit’

you know for people who are dying they go on for a while

just you know shove some essential oils on that shit you'll be fine

oh that's so sad just sitting with your brothers corpse for a couple of hours like ‘hey remember that time we chased that squirrel?’ no reply ‘yeah me too’

Book 2 Chapter 19

Oh God Merlin’s back

they really like gold

which ones Balin which ones Balan

why would you do that

no just no melon needs to be punched in the face as hard as humanly possible because you can't just keep giving this cursed sword to people

‘Sir Lancelot or else Galahad his son and Lancelot with this sort shortly the man that in the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawain.’ We stan

If you just threw this damned sword away then nobody would die omllllll

petition to punch man in the face needs one vote change dog

what the fuck

F in the chat lady and gent ladies and gentlemen for Balin and Balan ‘two brethren born in Northumberland, good knights’

sequitur iii liber

book 2 finished three begins next time on –

[renee-writer]

From Gladiator to Knight Chapter 25 Knighting

Claire Jamie Tianna Paul Arthur Merlin

Claire

We all head back to our own rooms after the shock of my revelation fades a bit. The fact that we are to become legends is a bit hard to digest. Jamie and I enter our room. I strip down to my shift and Jamie down to his shirt and we get into bed, exhausted by the events of the day. Jamie pulls me close, spooning me to him and I come to understand that part of him isn't tired. He moves purposely against my bum.

"What do you think you are doing?"

"I would think that would be obvious Sassanech."

"It is. I meant why. Do you think I would be open to that after the way you treated me today?"

"I was just.."

"Being an arse. Not happening today Jamie."

"I am sorry. I worry when you pull away from me."

"I pulled away from everyone. I needed to think."

"I know that now. Will you forgive me for being an arse?"

"Of course. Good night Jamie." He sighs but accepts my no. He just cuddles against me and breaths,

"I love you Claire."

"I love you Jamie." We drift to sleep.

I woke with the first rays of sun coming through the window. I slip out of Jamie's grip and pull my dress back on. I walk into the hall and see Tianna doing the same. I suggest we go check on Arthur. We head that way.

We find him under the guard of Bors and Merlin. I walk over and take his pulse, count his respiration, and check his color. All are much better. I am quite relieved.

"You are doing extraordinarily well. I am clearing you to get out of bed today." I tell him.

"Thank you. That is wonderful news for I plan your knighting for today."

"Today! I thought it would take several days." I sputter out.

"All came together faster then I expected."

"Well that is...ahhh thank you sire'."

"Arthur." He corrects with a laugh as we courtsies our way out of the room. Merlin follows.

Merlin

"You told them?" I ask Claire after they leave.

"Yes, you knew, didn't you?"

"I did. I do. That is why it was so important that you told them."

"We are to be legends." Tianna says with awe.

"You are. Well deserved ones."

"Thank you Merlin. Come Tianna. Let's go check on Lancelot before we have to get ready."

Tianna

We knock on the door and a female voice calls out," Who is it?"

"Claire and Tianna. Come to check on Lancelot." Claire answers. We are invited in and find one of the.ladies-in-waiting washing Lancelot. This doesn't phase Claire who walks right up and kneels, taking the ankle of his injured leg.

"I am checking the pulse to make sure it is getting proper blood flow." She instructs. She had explained pulses and blood flow, the heart and such to me already.

"Your pulse is good. It means the cast is not to tight and you should heal properly. We are.sorry for barging in like this." Claire tells Lancelot.

"Oh that is fine." He says. His smile towards us and an even bigger smile towards the lady, says more.

"Someone.got some last night, didn't they?" Claire mumbles under her breath. I giggle and quickly cover my mouth. "Okay. I am allowing you up today. You may walk around here and outside with the crutches." Said louder and directed to Lancelot.

"Crutches?"

"A gift from Jamie." She turns to fetch them from where they lean against the door frame. "They will help you keep your balance and keep your weight of that injured leg."

She explains how they work: about how they are placed under his arms, how he is to lean into them, keep his injured leg up, push with his arms then with his foot. She gets him up, makes sure he can use them right, and is steady. He catches on quickly.

"Are you both okay with this?" She asks them both. They both agree they are and we leave.

Jamie

They walk in talking and laughing. It takes all I have not to grab and shake them. I see Paul restraining himself too.

"Where were ye!" I shout out.

"We checked on Arthur and Lancelot. Took him the crutches. He caught on to how to use them quickly." Claire calmly says.

"That.is all well and good but, you left without informing me and.Jamie where you were. And you must!" Paul informs his wife and mine. I see Tianna give him a furious look. He drops his head. I am not so easily intimidated by Claire's matching look.

"What he said is right. We are tasked by the order of the king and our wedding vowes with your protection. That is hard to do when we dinna ken yer whereabouts."

"We are sorry. You are right. We will wake you next time. By the way, we are.all to be knighted today. We best be getting ready." That takes anything else I think of telling her, right out of my head. She directs Tianna and I to follow her back to our room and sents Paul after some warm water.

Paul

I watch as Claire directs Tianna to lean back over the pot and pours water over her head. I am soon distracted by the way that position pushes her bossom out. I can't hold back a soft groan. Both Claire and Jamie look at me and grin. She then adds some of the strange liquid( the shampoo, I remind myself) to her hair. She massages it in and my wives hair is soon a mass of suds. I have never seen anything like it. She then rinses them out and directs Tianna to go sit by the fire so it can start to dry. She does Jamie's next. And then the bit of hair I have. Tianna then does hers and then offers to braid it up in a twist for the ceremony. Jamie and I watch our wives fix each others hair. There is a knock on the door.

Claire

The servants bring in four sets of clothes. Two gowns, one deep green, like Tianna's wedding dress. The other a deep blue with gold accents on the sleeves. The men have fancy shirts and breeks.

"Nice. But I bet they itch too." Paul grumbles. I laugh.

"Get used to wearing breeks lads. I've a feeling that where we are going next, you will still have too and not even as a true Scot. Neither will Tianna and I."

"What do you mean Sassanech?"

"You will see Jamie." We dress and walk hand in hand into the great hall. It has been transformed for the ceromony. The tables are moved to the side leaving the middle completely open. The king and queen sit on thrones at the end of the room. Merlin stands behind Arthur and the knights stand in a half circle behind them. We pass by his subjects lining our way like they are on a parade route.

Arthur

"We are here to knight the Fraser's as knights and dame's of the round table. They have been a gift from God to the kindom. Claire and Tianna, with the assistance of Merlin, saved my life from the evil plan of Morgarna and her son Mordred. Jamie and Paul, tracked them down and brought them back for justice. Claire, step forward."

Claire

I walk towards him on legs that feel like rubber. I can feel the eyes of the people on me and the beckoning eyes of the king. I kneel before him. And, as I have seen depicted in numerous paintings, he places his sword on first on one of my quivering shoulders then the other.

"I dub thee, Dame Claire Fraser of the round table." He says. He places his hand out and I take it, thinking he is helping me up. From behind him, Merlin hands him something. He slips it on my middle finger. A ring with a amethyst stone in the center.

"Thank you sire'."

"Thank you Claire." He helps me to my feet and I rejoin the others.

Tianna

He calls me up next. I know what to do from watching Claire. I am so thankful she was called first.

"I dub thee Dame Tianna Fraser of the round table." He slips a ring, Merlin hands him on my finger too. It has a sapphire in it.

"Thank you sire'."

"Thank you Tianna."

Jamie

I kneel before him as I have at the feet of my uncle. The difference is I respect him much more.

"I dub thee Knight Jamie Fraser of the round table." Merlin hands him the most beautiful sword I have ever seen. In the hilt is a stone, an amethyst to match the one in Claire's ring. I am speechless for a moment.

"Thank ye sire'." I finally get out.

"Thank you Jamie.

Paul

It feels unreal. To be kneeling before a king to be honored. Me, a former slave.

"I dub thee Knight Paul Fraser of the round table." I am handed a sword that is designed like Jamies. In the hilt is a beautiful blue stone like the one in Tianna's ring. Honored and presented with a valuable gift!

"Thank you sire'."

"Thank you Paul."

Arthur

"In the morrow we will all gather around the round table to discuss what is to be done with Morgarna. Until then, eat, drink, and be merry!"

[dorochas]

writing tag game - first line openers

Rules: List the first lines of your last 10 stories. See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some people to take part.

Tagged by @princess-of-the-worlds

given this is a merlin blog i will only do the last 10 merlin fics, and not any co-written fics. ok here we gooo

for the one who stands outside the prison-wall

For the first time in hours, Kilgharrah had gone quiet in the back of his mind. Days, perhaps. Ever since he was fastened into cold iron, and Balinor was dragged away in chains of the same. Betrayal, Balinor thought, always seemed so distant and bizarre to him.

let go of yourself for a new beginning

Under the cover of night, their small ground of riders on horseback and the slow moving carts they dragged behind were nothing but large, clumsy shadows in the middle of a deep forest. Gwen rode on the front of one of the open carts, her legs dangling between the hitch that attached the cart to the horse. She lifted her chin and looked out into the canopy of trees.

take your sleeping heart into the vast fields of light

There were few moments where the entire city fell silent. It had been unnaturally quiet for two nights; the lower towns were spotted with the glow of candlelight as a procession marched from one end of the citadel to the other. Merlin spotted the distant movement of shadows as Camelot’s people marched, their heads bowed and altogether silent.

why must it be carried at all?

For a few quiet moments after battle there was a lull, and then a quiet inhale. Holding in the breath, daring to ask — was it over? Had they won? When no further enemy faces appeared marching through the walls, and Arthur raised his hand, then clenched it in a tight, victorious fist.

a song and dance of subduing self

Growing up, Elyan was never one to seek out gossip. Gwen took to it — the gossip, that was — at some point during his absence, and he returned to find her not only a frequent subject of gossip, but also in fair share spreading tidbits of information that entertained her fellow servants.

some have called thee mighty and dreadful

Green and red blurred Gwen’s vision as she ran. Their only warning was offered in the short moments in a quiet clearing. Her brother was teasing Sir Gwaine, as Arthur pretended not to be amused, and Gwen hid her laughter in her hand.

not all roads lead to destiny

Morgana returned before the sky lightened. Morgause slumbered still, growing paler and frailer with each passing day. She woke rarely, frighteningly confused and other times exceedingly lucid. The haze of confusion seemed to come more and more frequently now, and lasted longer.

and they lived apple-y ever after

The morning Arthur woke to an empty bed, he bolted upright, and then immediately relaxed upon seeing Guinevere standing behind his desk, peering pensively out the window. Arthur flopped back into his bed with relief. He was still adjusting to the routine of a husband and wife – and Guinevere was an early riser. Probably retained that sense of time from her days as a servant.

it’s the sound of your heart beating like a wardrum

Arthur was having a normal morning. He was served breakfast, and then dressed by George, and fitted into his armor for training. The sun was shining, the dragon outside of his window was snoring happily, and all was well. Arthur was practically whistling on his way to his council meeting, when of course everything went to shit.

and go as a dream

When Morgana stopped him outside Arthur’s chambers, Merlin really thought nothing of it. As it was not unusual for Morgana to stroll around the citadel, or pause to speak with servants. Sometimes she would join in Merlin and Arthur’s banter to drop some truly delicious morsels of gossip and blackmail (mostly about Arthur).

.....

well. clearly i have a pattern of referencing time passed and the word "moment" seems to crop up everywhere. not even sure what to call this. prose??? character pov monologue? i guess???.

tagging uhhhh whoever sees this <3 if you want to do it go wild and tag me ig

[swanqueeneverafter]

45. The Dark Swan, Pt.5

Merlin's Tower. (Regina slams a book closed in frustration. Robin is there, along with a mute Zelena.) Robin Hood: “It's all right. You'll get it. Perhaps it's time for a spot of tea. Calm nerves lead to clear thoughts.” (Regina nods and Robin leaves. Regina turns to see Zelena rolling her eyes.) Regina: “You're here so I can keep an eye on you, mute handmaiden. I don't need you rolling your eyes at me. We need to clear the air in fact.” (Regina restores Zelena’s voice.) Zelena: “Ah! (Laughs:) Oh, there you are, my lovely voice. It's so... light and feminine.” Regina: “Enough. Now... let's have a little chat about you trying to escape back to Oz. Zelena... you know you can't take that child away from Robin.” Zelena: “Well can you blame me? You're going to take it from me. This child could be my only chance for someone to truly love me, and... you got a second chance. Why can't I?” Regina: “Why do you think we brought you along? Robin seems to think you’re worthy of yet another second chance, even after you threatened his life. You can't keep painting yourself as a victim. It's absurd.” Zelena: “A second chance, with Robin? You do realise I only shacked up with him to mess with your happy ending?” Regina: “Yes, and how was that supposed to work exactly?” Zelena: "Well, when I followed your girlfriend back in time, I managed to find the Author. We had quite the little chat, Isaac and I. Even back then he was already writing fiction. But, try as I might, I couldn't convince him to do my bidding and change your fate. Something else must've done that. Anyway, I did manage to get something from him." Regina: (Thinks:) "Like what?" Zelena: "Remember the page depicting you and forest-boy kissing? (At Regina’s look:) Oh yes. I knew exactly what to do with that. So, after I returned to the present as Marian, I merely had to wait for the right moment." Regina: "You put that page in Robin's bag?" Zelena: "Oh, absolutely. I thought that if you believed you were destined to be with Robin, it’d tear you up inside, make you question everything. And by the time you decided you loved Robin, I’d already be in place to ruin your chance at happiness.” Regina: “Yeah, well nice try, sis. But you clearly didn't account for my feelings for Emma.” Zelena: "Obviously not. Still, (Rubbing her stomach:) at least I got something out of all my hard work. You can tell me that life is fair all you want. All I can tell you is that I'm still seeing one sister with all the...” Regina: (Taking Zelena’s voice once more:) “Be quiet and listen for once in your life. (Zelena stomps her foot:) You forget who I am. The Evil Queen. I can be a far greater nightmare than you can possibly imagine. Robin believes you can change, so for now... my gift to you is a promise. I will make sure your baby is fine and loved and safe. But if you betray us again, the same will certainly not hold for you.”

The Round Table. (Now clad in armor, Arthur shows David his selection of weaponry.) David: “Wow.” King Arthur: “I like to be prepared.” (They each take a sword. David turns and spots something.) David: “Is that... Percival’s chair?” King Arthur: “Yes. But no need for more apologies. A leader does what needs to be done. I'll find a man worthy to fill that seat. (Arthur gestures to the tallest chair at the table:) This is the one that will stand empty forever.” David: “I assume that was your chair. Suitable for a King.” King Arthur: “No. Mine is no different than the others in the same way that the table is round. Many of our order are kings and princes in their own realms. Nonetheless happy to sit shoulder to shoulder with the rest of their knights. No one of us above the other. Except for this one. This is the Siege Perilous. Reserved for the knight with the purest heart, the one destined to carry out the most sacred quests. It once belonged to a man I trusted more than a brother. But he betrayed me. It's been vacant since.” David: “Lancelot.” King Arthur: “You've heard of him.” David: “Well, all of you are kind of legends.” King Arthur: “Really? I shudder to think what our tale must be.” David: “Oh, only one of the greatest romances of all time. Your love for Guinevere was ripped away by your best friend, Lancelot. It's a tragic story that clearly had a happy ending. The two of you seem like all that's in the past now.” King Arthur: “Yes. Lancelot was a good man. The situation was difficult.” David: “I understand. Actually, Snow... Mary Margaret and I, we met him.” King Arthur: “You did? How is he?” David: “I'm... very sorry to tell you this, but we... learned that he died. I'm sorry.” King Arthur: “Lancelot failed to resist temptation, but he was a good knight. He tortured himself for his sins far more than I would've done. I wished him happy. Just not with my wife. (The door opens and a page enters, carrying a large trunk. As it’s placed on the table, Arthur opens it:) This... is our reliquary, containing sacred magical items our knights have recovered.” David: (As Arthur pulls out a burning torch:) “I've never seen magic like that.” King Arthur: “It's the Unquenchable Flame. Said to be part of the burning bush itself. This will light our path, and where we're going, we're gonna need it.” Brocéliande. The Forest of Eternal Night. (David and Arthur trek through the forest.) David: “What is it, noon? You weren't kidding about eternal night. I'm glad we have a torch.” King Arthur: “I'm glad we sent Grif home with the horses. These woods would make him restless.” David: “Your squire works hard, Your Majesty.” King Arthur: “‘And you don't thank him enough.’ I can hear you saying it even when you don't. You're right, though. I don't even have the excuse of ignorance. I was born a common man and I've been in service myself.” David: “You weren't born noble?” King Arthur: (Chuckles:) “I'm as peasant as they come.” David: “Shepherd.” King Arthur: “Ah. (Chuckles:) I can feel my backbone relaxing already. Let's stop with the ‘Your Majesties,’ shall we?” David: “Of course.” King Arthur: “As for my squire, I assure you Guin more than makes up the difference. Showering him and the others with gifts. She really is the kindest woman I've ever met.” David: “Sounds like my wife. When she decides you're family, she'd die for you.” King Arthur: “That's not to say Guin doesn't have her fierce side. With a bow and arrow, I've seen her take out the eye of a dove in flight.” David: “Mary Margaret could do that. She wouldn't, but she could.” King Arthur: “We should have a tourney. Get them to compete.” David: (Chuckling:) “Right. 'Cause I'm sure they'd love to be pitted against each other to let us feel good about ourselves.” King Arthur: (Hands David the flame:) “Here. (Opens a flask and offers it to David:) Then perhaps there are better ways for me to show off.” David: “You're a competitive man for someone with a round table. I thought the idea was you didn't want to sit above anyone.” King Arthur: “Someone who isn't competitive doesn't need a two-ton table to remind him to be humble. I know my weaknesses. Lancelot and Guinevere weren't the only ones to blame for what happened to them. I was a difficult man to live with. But I made a conscious decision to fix things.” David: “I understand that.” King Arthur: “This way.” The Lake. (They come to a lake and stand at the end of the bridge.) King Arthur: “Look upon that, brother.” David: “So it is real. (Uses an eyeglass to spot the toadstool:) Crimson Crown. (Puts the eyeglass away and steps on the bridge, which sinks into the water:) It'll never take both of us. I'll go.” King Arthur: “I'll wait here. Let the torch be your beacon back.” David: “Thank you.” (The wooden bridge beneath his feet creaks and cracks as he begins to cross. Halfway along, he falls. Picking himself up, David continues on as we see armor shining in the water.) 

(Upon reaching the other side, David cuts the mushroom from the island, while the enchanted armor of slain knights rise out of the water. The armor attacks David, one piece of pulls him underwater. Eventually Arthur saves him by pulling David up.) David: (Gasping for breath:) “Thank you.” King Arthur: “Think nothing of it. It would appear you did it. Well done.” (Quickly they both cross the bridge to safety. David suddenly looks panicked.) King Arthur: “David, what is it?” David: “The toadstool. It's gone. Either the phantom knights took it, or it was lost in the bog.” King Arthur: (Looking back at the lake:) “We could search for it.” David: “No. It's gone.” King Arthur: (Sighs:) “The word ‘quest’ means to seek, not to find. It's the seeking that matters.” David: “You believe that?” King Arthur: “Not truly, no. If the finding is what makes a difference in this world, then that's what I want. I'm sorry.” (David ruefully begins to laugh and Arthur joins him.) David: “My father, he drank his life away. My brother accomplished nothing but evil. There was a time I thought I'd be different. Change the world. But I just... I don't want to only be remembered as the man who kissed a sleeping princess awake 30 years ago.” King Arthur: “I understand.” David: “You do? You're King of Camelot.” King Arthur: (Chuckles:) “Yes, some large rock decided I was a hero. Prophecy fulfilled. (Both chuckle:) But since then, I've had victories and I've had losses. And I've learned that it's the losses that require us to be brave. So, if anything will make us heroes...” David: “It's the never giving up. Even after a loss.” King Arthur: “Indeed.” David: “Well, we might as well get out of here. (Stands and offers his hand:) There's work to be done. And it's not here.” King Arthur: (As David pulls him to his feet:) “Good man. David, if you want to be part of something, do something that matters, I have a place for a man like you.”

The Round Table. Night. (There is applause as David enters the room, followed by Mary Margaret.) King Arthur: (As David kneels before him:) “I dub thee Sir David of the Enchanted Forest. Now of the Round Table. (To David:) I know 'Knight of the Round Table’ is pale fire, indeed, next to the title of prince.” David: “No. I am beyond honored.” King Arthur: “Then rise, Sir Knight. Take your place.” (David moves towards Percival's chair, but King Arthur clears his throat and points to the Siege Perilous chair.) David: (Murmuring:) “Really?” King Arthur: “I never thought I'd find anyone I trust enough to fill that seat. But it's yours. (They cross to the table, Guinevere holding David’s shield:) It will bear your coat of arms. (They shake hands:) Not bad for a shepherd, eh?” David: (Chuckles:) “Thank you.” (As David takes his seat, applause breaks out again. As baby Neal starts crying, Mary Margaret steps outside the room, and sees a shadow move.)

Mary Margaret: “Someone there? (As the figure steps into the light:) It can't be.” Lancelot: (Approaching:) “It is.” Mary Margaret: “Lancelot. We thought you were dead.” Lancelot: “That is a long story. But trust your eyes... it is me. And right now, my struggles don't matter. What does is that there is a terrible villain in Camelot.” Mary Margaret: “The Dark One. We know. It's our daughter. We're going to fix it.” Lancelot: “No. There's another villain. Arthur.” Mary Margaret: “What?” Lancelot: “Trust me. Camelot is not what it seems.” (Troubled by this, Mary Margaret stares back into the room where Arthur is applauding David along with everyone else.) Later That Night. The Round Table. (Arthur sits alone at the table as Guinevere stands watching him.) King Arthur: “Today was a difficult day.” (Arthur unwraps the previously concealed toadstool.) Queen Guinevere: “You lied to him, to David.” King Arthur: “And it brought me no pleasure. He's a good man. A noble man, but I must think of my kingdom first.” Queen Guinevere: (Placing her hand on his shoulder:) “Of course you must.” King Arthur: “That is always the burden of a king.”

The End.

[rei-the-rat]

Iron Rose

Thank you @orlaithsstar so much for your help! I hope you don’t mind a little poetry. I also hope it reads nicely. Sorry for the delay, I hope to have the other ko-fi fics done soon.

Does my iron clad heart beat for thee, A soft rose of the deepest red, When we last met under moonlit…

“Agh, that is awful.” Arthur pushed back from his desk and set aside the quill. He stared out the window at the night sky. He should be sleeping, but his thoughts would not rest. The desire to convey his feelings through poetic description had seized him shortly after dinner. Just a simple poem that he could slip to his desire without bringing attention to himself. Depending on how it was received, he may write another.

Or none at all, given how this one was going. He thought about the lengthy verses Merlin could recite off the top of his head with ease. With a sigh, he turned back to the parchment. It didn’t have to be long…

With a new idea, Arthur picked up the quill again and set about finishing the poem.

“Merlin,” Arthur called to his manservant as they were heading out to train with the other knights. He passed the rolled piece of parchment to him.“This slipped out of your pocket.”

Merlin quirked an eyebrow at it but took it regardless. “I don’t recall having this…” He unrolled it and read the short poem penned upon it.

“What is it, Merlin?” Gwain asked. He slowed his pace to fall back with him as Arthur moved ahead. The other knights were also lingering, curious as to what could possibly bring such a endearing, if not confused, smile to Merlin’s face.

“It’s a poem.”

“One of yours?”

“No…” Merlin read over it again.

“Oh? Well read it out loud then. Perhaps you have yourself a secret admirer.” Gwaine elbowed him playfully. They both missed the way Arthur turned around and stared wide-eyed as Merlin began to read aloud.

“Does my iron clad heart beat for thee, A soft rose of the deepest red, When we last met under moonlit steps, A wish I whispered in secret, Demands an answer, What will it be? Dost thou cherish me, Or shall I forever observe from afar?”

“Oh my…” Gwaine peered over Merlin’s shoulder. “You can truly hear the longing in their words.”

“Short and simple,” Merlin rolled the parchment backup and placed it in his pocket for the first time. “I like it.”

“Oh, really? How will you respond?”

“That’s for their ears only, don’t you think?” He met Arthur’s gaze. “I’ll think of something tonight.”

An hour past dinner, Arthur was sitting by his desk watching the sky out the window. He was unsure what to make of the reaction the poem received. The door opened and closed with Merlin bringing in new linens, and after a moment, he came and stood beside him.

“I’ve thought of a response.”

Before Arthur could ask what he meant, Merlin continued.

“In the gleaming sun, A rose of deepest red rests, Glimmering shields protect, And the waters of Camelot nourish, A heart of strength and steel, Beats with passion,

And under the moon, Upon the steps leading to one’s desire, An answer whispered in secret, Forever thou will be cherished, Forever held close and dear...”

Merlin whispered the last lines as Arthur turned away from him to face the window again. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize your handwriting, sire?” He placed poem on the desk.

“So, you come mock to me?”

“Not at all. I came to deliver an answer.” Merlin bit his lip, unsure of his boldness now that he had seen Arthur’s reaction. He wasn’t sure he what he expected. “And now that I have, I bid you goodnight.”

“I didn’t dismiss you.” Arthur caught Merlin’s wrist as he was turning to leave and stood to meet him as he pulled him back. Gently cupping Merlin’s cheek, he pressed a kiss quickly to his lips and held him close. When they parted, Merlin was watching him with a dazed expression.

“I…” Merlin licked his lips, unaware of he was leaning into Arthur, letting him support his weight. “My apologies, Arthur. I’ll stay as long as you wish.”

[derieri]

Unsaid Things

I wrote something kind of ugly but I like it anyway. It was intended for ship week when I started but went in its own direction that isn’t well-suited to a celebratory week (I write too much angst). Enjoy a quick lil’ 500-word drabble about Merlin.

a fragment of a letter recovered from the hearth of Lady Merlin’s workshop in Camelot, partially burned:

          “Avert thine eyes from death, my Lord            and what you never see            eventually arrives in force            to someday sneak upon thee.”

I have taught my student this proverb, which he does not know originated in the ancient times of war preceding the entombment of the Demon Clan. He also does not know that it was his idol who taught it to me in the first place many thousands of years ago.

There are moments when I wish I could tell Arthur who I am and who he is, and how we are bound through time to our unique roles in the course of this world. In most instances, I have no problem with deception. In fact, there are many times when I believe it to be necessary. When he beams up at me in moments of delight, his violet eyes gleaming with unabashed wonder and unquestioned trust, however, I am overtaken with a feeling I have no adequate term to describe.

As he is a child, Arthur does not yet have the presence of mind to ask the questions I would rather shy away from. When he does, I know even as I write this that I will lie to protect him. No child needs to be burdened with such things; I will not thrust this terrible weight upon him. Yet it will hurt me to do so.

Have you experienced this difficulty with the rebirths of your lover?

Bearing the responsibility for raising a young man has reawakened many memories of my own childhood that I had forgotten until now. I selfishly wish that life’s circumstances had been different, so that I could experience a childhood uninterrupted by turmoil and death. There is an emptiness to my memory of that time – every person and place within those hazy recollections has been gone for many centuries, except for you. So much has changed, and yet time passes steadily around you and I with naught but the subtlest of alterations wrought upon us.

I resolved long ago that I would be a better mentor than those who guided me; that is one of the many things that the turning of decades has left unchanged. You have never been good at giving advice, and I’m sure the fictitious you I write to now is no better. My determination to be better must be enough.

This letter, like all the others I have written, will of course be discarded in the hearth. At this point, the ash in my study knows my secrets just as well as you do. I cannot say why I write letters to you despite knowing the moment I begin that I will consign every letter to the flames. I suppose it is for the same reason I come whenever I think you may need me, and the same reason I fear the day you succeed in your quest.

Even after all this time, I cannot add to your struggle with my own, Meliodas. What does that say about how much of a fool I have remained after all these years?

[anchanee]

Work in Progress - I don't even know the title yet! by Anchanee

Another outlook for my story. This is not edited (not even once), so please forgive the mistakes. 

Merlin checked his reflection in the highly-polished entrance hall of Pendragon Papers. Every wall and column reflected gold with subtle burgundy appliances. It should look tacky but clearly the interior designer had done a marvellous job. "I still can't understand how you could get me an interview with Uther Pendragon so fast." Bluetooth technology really was a blessing.

Morgana sat in her office at the other side of town, offering some last-minute insight for her brother who was about to meet the founder of the publishing house. She could be a high−class lawyer, having finished her studies summa−cume−laude, but her brother was in fact her only paying client. Well, at least the only one paying her with money. Still, since she made good investments and was considered the 'go to' address for all fey who found themselves in a tight spot, she rarely was short on good luck. That and occasional advice that paid off in the future. Since her brother was now in the known, she felt free to admit, "I've made this appointment three weeks ago. I was hoping to find a better editor for you. Chance has it, that P.P. is in a bit of a tight spot right now. So Uther hopes to score you as an author for the next 'Fifty Shades' trilogy.

"My books hardly have enough sex in them to fall into that category. And they are far less tacky, thank you very much!"

“And thank the goddess for that. Those books are embarrassing! Still, you write best–sellers, even with a mediocre publisher. Pendragon Papers is in dire need of money.”

Sobering from their banter, Merlin asked warningly, “Morgan, … Morgana, tell me that you had nothing to do with this company’s streak of misfortune.”

Calmly his sister replied, “Ever mind the rule of three, what ye send out comes back to thee.” When she heard his relieved exhale, she added somewhat impish. “But I can make no promise for one of my clients. Last year I represented a Cluricaun against Pendragon Papers.”

Snorting he interrupted. “What was he writing, a vine review?”

“I’ll have you know,” Morgana snapped, “That he was a connoisseur of all things concerning grapes, be it wine, spirit or sweets. But back to the point, P.P. had promised him a contract, only to take their offer back last minute I might have implied, that I didn’t want any money, merely for him to get even. His magical skill–set extended way past the souring of wine. Ever since, the publishing house is in a bit of a tight spot and descending ever since.”

“Well, that shouldn’t get you in too much trouble, since you never took it upon yourself to punish them. Tough you have every right to hate your father for abandoning you.”

“You know me better than that,” she deadpanned.

Merlin, however, only straightened his jacket for the last time and approached the elevators. Once the doors had closed behind him, he admitted, “See, that’s the problem. I have so many versions of you in my head, that I have troubles separating the old you from the person you are now and all the people you were in–between. And honestly, I am not even sure that the Dark Witch Morgana, wouldn’t be more helpful in the current situation.”

“That is exactly the point, Merlin. There is no difference between the ‘Dark Witch’ and me. I’m on your side, irrevocably, that should be the only thing that matters. For you I will be as dark or as light as you need me.” His sister assured him. “Explain the situation to Uther, he knows about magic, Arthur is living proof of that. If he is not willing to submit, give him the contract.”

“That’s basically a slave–contract for Arthur.”

“Yes,” Morgana confirmed coldly. “Mind, Body and Soul.”

− { } −

"This is ridiculous," Uther growled. "If you think that I will let you fuck me in the middle of the woods, just to fulfil this little fantasy of yours, you're insane!" He was just about to rise from his chair, when Merlin's eyes burned up, commanding, "Sit." The very moment the lock to Uther's office engaged, effectively sealing them in.

Swallowing down the rising trepidation, the founder of Pendragon Papers asked, "My god, what are you?"

Merlin slowly rose from his chair and leaned over the table threateningly. "You know who I am. More importantly, you know what I am. Go on, Uther Pendragon, proof to me that you are not as ignorant as you seem."

"A witch!"

"Close."

"A warlock then," the man corrected himself, barely managing to remain in his chair and not cover before the force that stared him down with golden eyes.

"Your warlock, to be precise." The young man relaxed back into his chair, allowing Uther some reprieve. "You are the eldest living member of the Pendragon bloodline. The wellbeing of our kingdom is your responsibility. I can only support you, but never take your place."

Proving that he was aware of his family's history of providing the king for medieval England, Uther protested. "That's absurd. The Windsors have ruled this country for generations."

"The Windsors may direct the political fate of our nation, but the Pendragons are the blood and the soul of this land. A century ago, I could not get a hold on you. I won't let you shun your responsibilities a second time." Throwing the contract across the table, Merlin rose. "You or your son. I don't care either way. You sign this and I will write your books and safe your country. If you don't sign, things will become far more unpleasant. You have until tomorrow at sundown. Bring the contract to my doorstep and the terms will be fulfilled."

An arctic blast made Uther's blood run cold when Merlin excited his office. Taking a deep breath, he opened the fold and started reading. An hour later, he activated his intercom. "Morgause, please call my son to join me after lunch. We have a lot to talk about."

− { } −