#and arthur’s like ‘merlin what are you prattling on about | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

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Merlin goes missing, and they find him in chains, looking blank:

Stories of the great power of Emrys have been spreading. But Merlin is still young, and though powerful, control alludes him, from time to time. What happens when those who crave power for themselves take that control from him? By force?

Part 2(final part)

TW: Graphic ish descriptions of violence/blood.

(This was requested a while ago, mind control being broken by the power of friendship)

Merlin was meant to be on a three day trip to gather some rare herbs for Gaius.

The former manservant thought that it was quite ironic, how “herb picking” had been one of his most often used excuses (after “the tavern”) for where he disappeared to when he was still hiding his magic, but now he was Court Sorcerer, Gaius actually made him do it.

This just meant that no one immediately panicked when he wasn’t back by sundown on the third day.

All knew how capable Merlin was. None of the Druid advisors had been sent a message through the link, and an irate dragon hadn’t shown up asking for help.

Meaning he probably just got lost or distracted; lost track of time. He’d be home by noon the next day, prattling on about something he’d seen, or someone he’d spoken to.

Gaius would give him a raised eyebrow and Arthur would punch him in the arm and he’d be all indignant, insisting that “I can look after myself, and honestly Arthur, I was only gone an extra half day, no need to be so panicked.” with a smirk.

When he still wasn’t back before sundown on the fifth day, The Gang started to really worry. They gather in the council room, just the nine of them (the five knights, Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, Morgana) to try to come up with some sort of explanation, or if needed, a plan.

Morgana speaks first, and the uncertainty on her face heightens the anxiety in everyone:

“I’ve tried looking for him, sensing him, but I can’t feel him at all. Like he’s completely disappeared from the world-”

At that, Arthur interrupts her, panic showing on his face, and his voice shaking:

“You don’t mean?-”

Morgana widens her eyes at the meaning the others had taken from her words:

“NO! No, not that, if he were... dead, I would feel that. I would be able to find his… I would be able to find him, and feel a sort of echo, feel the recent effects he’s had on the world around him. But I don’t, I just feel…. nothing. Like he never existed in the first place.”

Everyone looks extremely troubled at that. Morgana wasn’t nearly as powerful as Merlin, but he had been teaching her, and she was getting stronger. If this feeling of absence worried her, then it worried all of them.

Gaius speaks up after a few moments of silence:

“We could ask the Druids? They have a strong, permanent bond to him. It may help in finding him. If not…”

Arthur nods firmly as he replies to the room:

“If not, we track him down the old fashioned way. We managed before, we might just have to manage again now.”

The others nod at that, determined to not let Merlin down.

(Not let Merlin down again. None of them (other than Gaius, Lancelot, and Morgana of course) had reacted all that well to Merlin’s magic when they first learned the truth. And whilst that was years ago, and Merlin claimed to have forgiven them all immediately, they still felt guilty for the way they’d treated him in those first few hours/days.)

As it turns out, the three Druid advisors were equally worried, and had been in the process of hurrying to the council room to inform The King of the severed tie between themselves and Emrys, just as Arthur had decided to call for their presence.

The whole gang had to quell their panic, and remind themselves of Arthur’s words. They’d managed before, they would manage now.

At first light the next day, Arthur and the knights rode out. Morgana was left with the crown, with Gwen and Gaius as advisors to stay and support her.

The King tried to insist on leaving one or two of the knights behind as well, just in case, but they weren’t having it, and Morgana’s reminder of:

“Merlin is incredibly powerful, Arthur. If someone has been strong enough to subdue or hurt him, then you’ll need all the help you can get.”

-he reluctantly allowed all five of them to come.

Gaius had provided them with the directions, so they could start their search where Merlin was supposed to be, and go from there.

After a full day’s journey, they arrive at the first of two clearings, just before nightfall. After a thorough look around, they found that Merlin had in fact been there, but he left peacefully, and they found no sign that anyone else had travelled through recently.

So he hadn’t been taken from the first clearing. Arthur and Gwaine had wanted to push on through the night, the second of the two clearings was only a few hours away, but Leon gave them a stern look, and with support from the others, insisted that they rest for the night.

They could wake early and continue in the morning, but the horses (and the knights) were starving, and tired, and needed rest. They would be no use to Merlin at all if they turned up dead on their feet.

Elyan tried to volunteer for the first watch, but Arthur insisted he take it. No one really argued with him, they knew he wouldn’t sleep well anyway, not with Merlin missing, and potentially hurt.

Elyan did however wake up a few hours later (a pure coincidence, it definitely wasn’t because he asked Percival to cast a low-level enchantment that would wake him (I like to imagine that once things had settled, Merlin tries to teach the lads a little sorcery. Arthur is hopeless, as are Lancelot and Elyan, but Leon and Gwaine aren’t toooo bad, and Percival is fairly alright)) and insisted that The King get some sleep.

He didn’t like to do it often (Arthur’s head was already big enough) but Elyan did use a little flattery to his advantage:

“Come now, My Lord. You’re the strongest of all of us, and it’s your orders we follow, how can we expect to win if our leader can’t walk or think straight?”

Arthur mumbles something about how “Flattery won’t get you anywhere in court, Sir Elyan.” But dutifully allows himself to slip into a fitful rest.

As promised, they rise and pack up just before first light, choosing to eat whilst they ride out just as the sun rises over the horizon.

The second clearing they reach, tells a much different story to the first. The knights slow their horses down, and stare on in barely concealed horror at the scene laid out before them.

Merlin’s horse lay dead to the side of the clearing. They had clearly killed her deliberately so that Merlin couldn’t escape if he freed himself. That could be the only explanation. She wasn’t wearing her saddle, and was still tied to the tree: Merlin wasn’t riding her when the arrow was fired.

The ground was scorched almost entirely, and a few trees had been uprooted, with the remaining standing ones bearing scorch marks and sword scars higher than naturally possible.

Merlin had obviously fought back, but the small puddle of blood next to his dropped herb bag tells them that he had been injured before the fight even began. Whoever took him? Knew who he was.

After a moment of shocked silence, Arthur starts barking orders:

“Percival, check the horse and the herbs, try and figure out how long ago this happened. Gwaine, Elyan, Lancelot, have a good look around, try to find anything discarded by his attackers; we need to figure out who took him. See if you can learn how many there were, and how they attacked, we need to know if they themselves are magic, or if they just know how to fight magic. Me and Leon will check the surrounding areas to find out where they went. Leave your horses at the edge, we don’t want to muddy up any tracks.”

Everyone wordlessly nods, and they go about their tasks quickly but thoroughly. No wants to make any mistakes here, Merlin is incredibly important to them, and they couldn’t risk going in to this blind.

They work in silence, and once Arthur and Leon return from their scouting ahead thirty minutes or so later, they gather the horses once more and huddle at the edge of the clearing.

Arthur looks to Percival expectantly, and he reports his findings quickly:

“Going by the carcass and the herbs Merlin had already cut, this happened maybe four or five days ago? Considering he was obviously still picking, and not just dawdling-”

(he gestures to the bag that he had picked up and attached to his saddlebags)

“-I’d say he was taken in the afternoon of the second day.”

Arthur clenches his jaw at that, that was five days ago. Hopefully they hadn’t travelled too far, and weren’t still travelling, otherwise it would take far too long to track them down.

He looks to Lancelot next:

“We found two bodies, average, plain armour, and it didn’t look like anything had been taken from them after they died. One of them did have this in his pocket-”

He looks grim as he says this, and hands over a very crumpled piece of parchment. On it, there was a rough sketch of Merlin’s face, and the Pendragon crest. It was rough, old, clearly drawn from memory, but there could be no mistaking who it was.

Arthur looks angry at that, but tucks it into his saddlebag before gesturing for Lancelot to continue:

“I don’t think they used magic, at least not combative magic-”

He gestures around the clearing, at the scorch marks:

“All of the blows seem to be extending out from the middle, from where Merlin was stood: he fought back with magic, but they used normal weapons.”

Lancelot looks to Gwaine, and he wastes no time in telling the group what he found:

“There was a broken off arrow shaft next to Merlin’s bag, someone shot him. I couldn’t find the head, so it’s still in him most likely, we need to be prepared to clean an infection when we find him-”

Percival interrupts him:

“I had a look through his bag, there’s a lot of useful stuff in here, so that shouldn’t be too much of a problem.”

Gwaine nods and lets out a sigh of relief before continuing:

“The arrow shaft stunk, and his blood was funky. I’m guessing they soaked it in mandrake or something to knock him out. Otherwise he would’ve decimated this lot. They would’ve only had to avoid his attacks for two or three minutes at most before he passed out. And even then, he wouldn’t have been all that coordinated.”

Everyone worries at this. Every new bit of information just tells them that whoever took Merlin knew exactly who he was, and what he was capable of.

Elyan speaks up next:

“Going from the tracks, I’d say there was six or seven others, not including our two corpses. They were spread evenly around the clearing so he could only attack at one at a time, all they had to do was aim one good shot, and wait it out. They may not have used magic to attack, but they must have hidden themselves somehow: there’s no way that Merlin wouldn’t have felt them coming, we’re in the middle of a forest, this is his domain.”

Arthur hums thoughtfully and nods, before speaking to the group:

“I agree with your assessment of seven other attackers. Me and Leon found a large group of tracks, from multiple people, coming from the North, but they split up and spread around the clearing about a quarter of a mile out. No has any idea who they were?”

Everyone shakes their heads, and Lancelot speaks once again:

“No. The armour was non-descript, the weapons left behind were nothing special. They had no tattoos, nothing of value on them, no defining marks, sigils, or crests. Nothing. Either they were randomly hired mercenaries, or they were clever enough to not carry anything that could identify them, or their masters.”

Arthur growls in annoyance and nods once again. The Knights all gather their horses and follow Arthur and Leon’s quick pace out of the clearing, towards the tracks they had found.

At Arthur’s instruction, they split into two groups, one following along about 10 feet to the left of the tracks, the other, the same to the right.

They needed to be careful, the group who had taken Merlin were obviously well informed professionals, and would know that it wouldn’t be long before someone came looking. They didn’t want to run into any traps or ambushes by following the exact same path the kidnappers had.

The Knights follow the trail for another couple of days, taking few breaks, and spending the majority of it in silence; not even Gwaine is being talkative.

A few hours into their tracking, there was another battle arena (though much smaller than the last).

They didn’t stick around for long, it was likely that the mandrake had worn off quicker than expected, and Merlin had tried to escape. Once they saw Lancelot turn pale as he picked up a bloody rock, they hurried their horses along the trail even faster than before.

It was around noon on the third day since they left the second clearing, that they notice the tracks getting significantly fresher: the kidnappers (who had been on foot, meaning the knights were making good time anyway) had slowed down; they must almost be there.

That evening, they finally came across what appeared to be a rundown farm. The roof of the house was caved in, and there wasn’t even one fully intact fence in the whole property. A large barn further to the back of the area however, was in good condition.

The tracks went all over the overgrown farm, but focused mainly around the barn (going no further than the edge of the property) and the Knights could see the flickering light of a fire glow through the gaps between planks of woods.

They tied their horses up a few metres in to the treeline. Normally having horses during the attack would be useful, but they were at least a four days journey from the capital (on horses, closer to two weeks on foot), and depending on the state Merlin is in, he may not be able to walk it. They needed to leave the horses undamaged and with energy enough to flee if they had to.

Arthur sends everyone off to scout the area, learn what they could, and they gather once more about five minutes later, hidden behind the rundown house to avoid being spotted.

Leon speaks first:

“I got as close as I could without being seen, there are about twenty-five men in there. I didn’t recognise any of them, and none of them had any identifying marks, but there was one man who was clearly in charge. Larger than the rest, had nicer clothes, a large key on a chain around his neck.”

Arthur perks up at that:

“Might unlock whatever is holding Merlin. Did you see him?”

Leon sighed and shook his head grimly:

“No, but the fire lit only the middle of the room, I couldn’t see in the corners or along the edges.”

Percival speaks next, quickly adding what he had learnt:

“There’s no one else in any of the other buildings, and no fresh tracks leading away from the area. Merlin must be in there with them.”

Leon hums in agreement before continuing:

“They weren’t... drunk. But they are drinking. It might be worth it to wait for a few more hours so we have more of an advantage. There’s only six of us remember, we-.”

Gwaine shakes his head roughly, interrupting:

“We can’t wait. Who knows what they’ve done to Merlin, but if they’re celebrating, and he isn’t fighting back, then it’s bad. We need to get him out of there as quickly as possible.”

Arthur hums thoughtfully as he thought through their options. Both of them had valid points, but the attackers wouldn’t go through all of this trouble just to kill Merlin, so he shouldn’t be in any imminent danger, and as much as he wanted to rescue him as soon as possible, they had to be careful.

He looks up at the group and replies confidently:

“We wait until the sun has disappeared completely. It should be no more than half an hour. That gives us the cover of darkness, and gives them time to lose a little more of their wits.”

Gwaine seems like he wants to argue, but a pointed look from Lancelot calms him, and the group go through the motions of checking their armour and weapons, preparing themselves fully for a difficult fight.

After spending the time preparing, and discussing their options, the group decided that the best plan was for them to split in to two.

Arthur, Elyan, and Gwaine were to rush through the large door at the front, and Leon, Percival, and Lancelot would sneak in through the small door at the back.

There was no way they would be able to hold on to the element of surprise for long, and it would be a difficult fight, but hopefully the first group would be distraction enough to allow the second group to kill at least a few people before they realised what was happening.

That, unfortunately, is not how things go.

After one last firm nod from Arthur, the group splits and heads as quietly as they can to their designated entrance. The King takes a deep breath before gesturing at Elyan, who pushes the door open with force, allowing Gwaine and Arthur to rush in without hesitation.

Elyan joins them, and they make a point to look at the enemy, so as not to draw attention to the other three sneaking in behind them.

It takes only a few seconds before Arthur realises something is wrong. None of the men seem angry, or even worried in the slightest, and as he spies Leon step silently forward to slit the throat of the man closest to him, he understands why.

Leon takes three steps fine, but on his fourth, he hits an invisible barrier, and is thrown back violently. He hits the wall with a crash, and falls to the floor, unconscious from the blow to his head.

The leader of the group glances briefly behind him before looking back to Arthur, amusement on his face. Arthur covers his confusion with anger, but before he can demand an explanation, the leader begins to speak:

“Looky here, boys! Kidnap one sorcerer, get six of Camelot’s finest knights free! That’s a pretty good deal if I do say so myself!”

The rooms breaks out into laughter, and Elyan takes a step forward, speaking in a dangerous tone:

“Well unfortunately, our sorcerer was not for sale. So if you would, we’d like him back.”

The leader chuckles once again, and the knights have to stop themselves going for an attack. Leon was just about starting to stir, and Lancelot stands protectively in front of him, waiting for the knight to right himself again.

“I’m not so sure he wants to be returned, good sir. I think you’ll find that he’s quite enjoying being under my service-”

He raises one hand and grips the ancient looking key that’s hanging around his neck, and looks to a darkened corner of the room before speaking again, louder this time:

“Isn’t that right, oh sorcerer of mine? Come here.”

The knights have to hold in a shudder at what they see.

Merlin, or what looks to be Merlin, judderingly walks out of the dark corner towards the key-holder. His left shoulder hangs oddly, and they can see the blood staining his clothes and dripping from his hand, leaving a trail on the floor. His feet drag across the ground, and his head nods and sways, like he is desperately trying not to collapse into unconsciousness. A wound on his temple still slowly seeps blood, and his hands shake.

He had a thick, metal collar around his neck, and two matching circlets around his wrists. Thick chains, the length of his arms, attach the cuffs to the collar (so that he still had full mobility, but all three circles of iron were connected), and as his body sways, the knights can see the skin beneath the metal has been rubbed raw, to the point of bleeding in some places.

But what was most striking, was the permanent golden glow of Merlin’s eyes, and the blank look on his face.

The golden colour didn’t quite match up to it’s normal hue, and seemed duller, sickly, somehow.

The knights stare on in horror as their friend, clearly not in control of his own actions, finishes his disjointed journey to his new master.

Arthur glares viciously at the man as he growls out:

“What have you done to-”

But before he can finish, a resounding thwack echoes around the room as a gauntleted hand connects with the side of Merlin’s face.

The other bandits laugh as Merlin’s head rocks violently sideways. His head is angled towards the floor for just a moment before he looks back up at the leader, the blank look not having left his face, despite the blood now dribbling from his mouth and the dark bruise already forming on his cheek and jaw.

Gwaine lets out a growl, but before he can take a step forward, the leader speaks once again, a horrid grin on his face:

“Be a dear and subdue our new guests, sorcerer.”

Without hesitation, Merlin sidesteps the leader, giving him a direct line of sight to Lancelot, Leon, and Percival. He waves his hand at them, muttering something under his breath, and the three of them gasp as they lift off the floor, and go flying across the room towards the other knights.

Arthur only manages to widen his eyes in surprise before he’s bowled over by Percival, and before the group can react, they find themselves unarmed, and kneeling side by side; lined up in front of the leader, with Merlin’s hand extended towards them.

The bandits begin laughing once again, the leader the most uproarious of them all, as the knights struggle to break free from Merlin’s grasp.

Arthur is the only one who holds still, not resisting, as he tries to get Merlin to look at him, but the sorcerer isn’t paying any attention. It almost seemed like Merlin just... wasn’t present. His body was stood in the barn, but his mind, his soul, were elsewhere, not even looking upon this earth, let alone stood in it.

Merlin’s blank face looks to the leader, and he doesn’t react at all as Arthur yells at him:

“Merlin! This isn’t you, he’s controlling you! You have to take back con-”

The leader interrupts him, his hand still gripping the slightly glowing key, as he directs himself to Merlin:

“Oh do shut them up, sorcerer.”

Merlin looks to the group once more, twisting his outstretched hand slightly. The knight’s voices are ripped form them suddenly, and silence permeates the barn for only a second before the bandits continue their laughter.

After a few minutes of the knights being unable to move or make any noise, the leader speaks up again:

“You know, sir knights,-”

He smacks Merlin again, in the same place as before, and the knights tense even more at their friend’s non-reaction:

“-I had thought, that the most fun part of having a pet sorcerer, would be the magic, and don’t get me wrong, it’s great, but-”

This time he aims a punch to Merlin’s abdomen. The Warlock bends over slightly, and takes a step back, before righting himself again, and returning to his original position:

“-I have discovered, in fact, that the most fun part is actually having a living punching bag, who can’t die as easy as the normal peasants and commoners I lay my hands on.”

He grins wickedly once more as he takes out a small dagger. The knight’s eyes all widen and they begin struggling even more against their magical bounds, as the leader drags the blade along Merlin’s outstretched arm.

The cut isn’t too deep, but it’s long, and bleeds enough for infection to be a definite worry.

Merlin’s head wavers slightly and his lip twitches, but he otherwise doesn’t move.

The leader looks to an almost tearful Arthur, and slowly, ever so slowly, pushes the blade into Merlin’s uninjured shoulder, as he grins:

“I wonder, sir knights, how much he can take.”

Arthur looks back to Merlin and sees him flinch, his face seeming more strained. Arthur hates himself for thinking it, but the more pain this jackass inflicts... the more aware Merlin seems to be becoming.

The glow in his eyes flickers, but only momentarily, and Arthur feels the ability to speak come back to him. He holds his breath for a moment, hoping that it’s just him (or that the others had the same idea as him). He lets it out a moment later when none of the knights make any noise.

He needs to pick his moment, wait until Merlin is most aware of his surroundings, before he tries to reach out to him.

It’s a difficult situation, a mix of not wanting Merlin to have to suffer, but also knowing that there is no way the knights could take him on. Not even with no other attackers to worry about. Not even with Merlin at partial strength. The only way for them to win this, is to get Merlin to come back to them.

The Knights watch on with horror, glares painted on their faces, as the leader removes the knife and steps away. He wipes the blood off the blade on Merlin’s clothes harshly, the pressure on his wound making the glow of his eyes flicker once again.

The arsehole looks to the rest of the grinning bandits, and yells:

“So, boys! Shall we see what our new pet can do? We have some lovely new test subjects after all!” A cheer goes up around the room, and the knights take in nervous breaths. They know what Merlin is capable of, and though he doesn’t show off his magic regularly, they’ve seen him angry, seen him when he has the least control of his magic; and right now, he has zero control. The only thing they could do is hope that this mercenary didn’t have a very vivid imagination.

At the bandit’s cheer, the leader turns around to sweep an assessing gaze over the knights. He hums thoughtfully, before waving his arm in Percival’s direction:

“He looks like a big guy, looks like he can take a lot. Break his arm for me, sorcerer.”

The others look to Percival in fear, but his only reaction is to take a deep breath, and clench his jaw.

Merlin tilts his head slightly, and moves his outstretched arm to be pointed at Percival. Arthur sees him swallow, and his hand shake slightly. He’s fighting it. The sorcerer stands still for just a moment, staring at a resolute Percival, but at the leader’s yell:

“DO IT!!”

-he closes his fist, quick as lightening, and a snap sounds out. Percival makes a pained face, but makes no noise as his arm hangs at his side.

Arthur casts a quick look at him, and is grateful for the lack of blood and odd angles. Merlin had managed to break his arm in the least damaging way possible.

Percival’s breath evens out, and he shakes the daze from his head before looking right at Merlin and saying:

“It’s alright, Merlin.” Arthur tenses slightly at that, but the bandit’s seem to be too drunk to notice the broken silence.

The leader bellows out again:

“Aw, well that was a little anti-climactic. Hmm... what about him-”

He gestures at Leon, who is now only slightly dazed, before continuing:

“-knock him out. Properly, this time.”

Merlin’s outstretched hand moves once again, pointing at Leon. Merlin hesitates for even longer this time. His hand shakes violently, and the glow in his eyes dulls (only slightly, but permanently this time) as Leon gives him a small smile, and nods at him.

The leader snarls before aiming a violent punch to Merlin’s side, before screaming:

“YOU ARE MINE!! STOP HESITATING YOU BEAST!″

This time, Merlin pulls his hand towards himself quickly, and Leon’s body tips forward. His head smacks off the floor with a sickening thud, and he doesn’t move from his place crumpled on the floor.

The others panic slightly at this, not being able to see Leon properly, but Arthur holds in a grin. He’s seen enough knights be knocked out to know that Leon was still conscious. Merlin had deliberately held back, cushioned his blow. There was no question that if he had really tried, Leon most certainly would have passed out, which means that Merlin is somewhat in control of his strength, if not his actions.

Arthur is grateful that Leon has the sense to lie still and keep his eyes closed. In order to remain convincing, The King plasters a sufficiently horrified look on his face as he looks from Leon to the Leader.

The man gives a satisfied hum, and turns to Lancelot, a loathsome smirk on his face:

“You, my friend, are far too calm for my liking. Let’s change that, shall we?”

The bandits let out yet another cheer (And Arthur is pleased to see that the majority of them are incredibly drunk at this point. He just needs Merlin to focus long enough for Arthur to grab the key) before he continues:

“Choke. Him. Out. I want to watch the life drain from his pathetically noble eyes. I want to see him panic as his breath is stolen from him. DO IT!”

Fear flash across Lancelot’s face, before he schools his features again. Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan do not manage to hide their panic at all, and Leon takes in an unnoticed deep breath from his place on the floor.

Arthur looks a tad worried, but this has got to be it. He knows how close Merlin and Lancelot are, there will be no better chance to try and break him from this pig’s control, he only needs a moment, and he can see Leon subtly preparing to pounce as well.

Merlin moves his arm to be pointed at Lancelot, and the knights can see their Warlock flinch slightly as Lancelot speaks a shaky smile on his face:

“It’s ok, Merlin, it’s not your fault.”

Merlin’s hesitation earns him a smack on the back of the head, and a second later, he turns his open hand to the ceiling. With that motion, Lancelot raises from the floor.

His hands go to his throat and his eyes widen a fraction as his feet kick, looking for purchase, but finding nothing.

Arthur gulps as he looks between Lancelot and Merlin, waiting for the last possible moment before he jumps into action.

The knights, thrash slightly trying to reach Lancelot as he begins to audibly choke. His legs kick more violently, and his face turns red, his eyes shut tight.

He manages to opens his eyes just a fraction, looking to Merlin and letting out a choked, barely audible:

“I... trust you... Merlin.”

Lancelot’s eyes close once again as his thrashing slows and he loses the last of the air in his lungs.

Arthur stares at Merlin intensely, and the moment a tear falls from his eye, he yells:

“Merlin, look at ME!”

The leader lets out an outraged yelp as Merlin drops his hand to his side, whipping his head around to stare at Arthur. Lancelot drops to the floor with a thud, and begins taking in sudden, deep breaths. The glow disappears briefly from Merlin’s eyes, and in that moment, he lifts a hand to his head, whispering “30 seconds”. The moment his fingers touch his temple, he crumples gracelessly to the floor.

Leon finally moves, jumping to catch Merlin before his heads makes contact with the floor and at the same time, Arthur leaps at the outraged Leader, tackling him to the floor roughly.

Percival moves to Lancelot, and quickly drags him, using his good arm, to the side of the room so that he can catch his breath. Gwaine and Elyan tackle the men who had been standing closest to them, and take their weapons, before moving quickly to stand above Arthur and The Arsehole (still wrestling on the floor).

Both of them hold their blades to his throat, and at his momentary hesitation, Arthur finally lands a good punch to his jaw, properly dazing him.

Arthur rips the chain from his neck and staggers back, leaving Gwaine and Elyan in front of him, not moving their weapons from the man’s neck.

All of this had happened in around five seconds, the knights following Arthur’s signal smoothly and in tandem (exactly like he had trusted they would), and the rest of the bandits too drunk to react quick enough.

The bandits had finally gathered themselves, and have their swords out and pointed at the gang, but before they could move forward, Elyan speaks:

“Take another step, and we’ll cut his throat.”

Arthur knew that that wouldn’t hold them for long. No honour among thieves, they didn’t care if he died because it just gave way for a power struggle, allowing one of them to come out on top as the new leader.

He glanced down at Merlin and Leon again before looking behind him to check on Lancelot and Percival. He counted in his head. Twelve seconds to go.

Elyan and Gwaine pulled the stuttering leader up by his clothes and drag him back. Gwaine stands behind him, his sword held across his throat, as Elyan takes his weapons from him and then moves to stand by Gwaine’s side.

Six seconds to go. Arthur isn’t really sure what he’s counting down to, but he trusts Merlin.

The bandits begin taking slow, drunken steps towards the gang once again. They may be pissed, but they also still vastly outnumber the knights, especially with Lancelot coughing his lungs out, Leon with at least a minor concussion, and Percival with a broken arm.

Three seconds... Two... One.

As the Arthur’s mental countdown reaches zero, he turns his head to check on Merlin, at the same time as the sorcerer opens his eyes once again.

His eyes shine bright golden once again (though still not quite normally), so brightly that Leon and Arthur have to shield their eyes for a moment. That moment is all it takes for the bandits to take action, and they surge towards the gang.

Gwaine pushes their leader into them, and his large form knocks two of them over. Gwaine and Elyan are the only ones who have weapons, so they hold off the first of the attackers as best they can. Percival picks up a still struggling Lancelot, and Leon and Arthur grab an arm each of Merlin. The five of them rush outside, and once Arthur yells back at them, Gwaine and Elyan turn and follow them. They shut the door quickly behind them, and Lancelot is dropped the floor, Merlin left standing blankly, as the rest of them throw their collective weight against the door. Percival speaks first, holding his broken arm to his chest, and bracing his shoulder against the middle of the door:

“Why isn’t... ugh... why isn’t he doing anything??”

Lancelot looks up from his place on the floor, and staggers to his feet, leaning on (a still blank) Merlin for support. He taps his face slightly and squeezes his hand, but still the sorcerer doesn’t react. His hand brushes against the cold metal of one of the cuffs, and he looks back to Arthur, still coughing lightly:

“He’s still bound! Please tell me you managed to hold on to that key?!”

Arthur nods, and Lancelot stumbles over, pressing his weight against the door with the others as another shove is felt from the other side. They wouldn’t be able to do this for long, the bandits were becoming more and more coordinated.

Elyan speaks up:

“We don’t have... no time to uncuff him, you’re in control Arthur just tell him to kill them or knock... or knock them out!”

Arthur looks angry at that, and shakes his head violently:

“No, I won’t take that control from him. I won’t.”

Leon yells next, his words slightly slurred, but understandable:

“You have no choice, Arthur. Just something simple!”

Arthur growls, and huffs as another, much harder shove hits the door. The gang almost stumbles back, but they brace themselves against the door once more, and Arthur shouts:

“Fine! Merlin, protect us!”

Without even a second’s hesitation, Merlin raises his hand towards them, and then pulls towards him. The knights all find themselves flying away from the barn, but land on their feet a few feet behind Merlin.

The barn door opens with a crash, the first three men falling forward, but quickly being trampled on by their... co-workers... as they escape the building. Before they can make it far however, Merlin throws up his other hand, muttering something under his breath, and all of them are stopped, frozen in place.

Merlin keeps his hand stretched out towards them, and the knights hear one of them go “oh shit” under their breath, as the realisation crosses their faces.

The Warlock’s face remains blank, and after a few moments of the knights catching their breath, Arthur steps forward hesitatingly:

“Merlin?-”

Merlin tilts his head slightly, but doesn’t turn to look at him and Arthur gulps, and moves around to stand in front of him. He holds the key in one hand, and grips Merlin’s arm with the other, he speaks over Merlin’s shoulder to the others:

“I don’t see a keyhole or anything. How do I get this thing off him?!”

The knights shrug and move forward, examining the iron from a distance. Gwaine speaks first:

“Well, Merlin would know, right? Ask him.”

Arthur frowns slightly, he is really not liking this, but none of them have seen anything even slightly similar to this before:

“Merlin, do you know how to release yourself from this?” as he speaks, he shakes one of the chains, and hears the bandits behind him begin squeaking in fear.

Merlin still doesn’t look directly at him, staring straight ahead, eyes still glowing, one hand still outstretched, but he does give a slow nod.

Arthur gulps once more, and takes Merlin’s lowered hand. He presses the key into his palm, holding his hand over it and quietly says:

“Do it. Take it off.”

Merlin mutters something else, forcing the barrier he had placed around the bandits to stay in place. He closes his hand around the key, and without looking, touches the end of the key to the cuff on his other wrist. A hole opens up in the metal, and he pushes the key in, twisting only slightly before the cuff falls off his wrist entirely, still dangling by the chain attached to the collar.

The glow in his eyes instantly dims a bit, and he takes a staggered step back. He shakes his head slightly, and the key swaps hands. He does the same to the other cuff.

He falls to his knees, shaking, and the knights step forward to support him. He slowly lifts the key to the collar, and the same thing happens a third time. As the collar falls to the floor, the glow in his eyes flashes it’s normal, healthy colour, before disappearing entirely.

His blue eyes find Arthur’s momentarily, just long enough for Arthur to smile at him and nod. That’s all the convincing that “everything is ok” Merlin needs, and he promptly passes out, slumping forward.

Arthur just about catches him, and looks over his own shoulder panicked, thinking that with Merlin unconscious, the barrier would disappear.

It would appear that Merlin had thought of that, even in his state, and the barrier stayed in place, leaving Arthur and the knights to let out breaths of relief.

Now everyone has had time to catch their breath, and Merlin was free, they had a moment to realise how furious they were.

Gwaine looks ready to slaughter every man there, and every person they’ve ever spoken to, and even Lancelot looks pissed.

Arthur gathers Merlin up in his arms, carrying him bridal style and looks to the others:

“Grab our weapons from inside, quickly, we need to get out of here, I don’t know how long that's going to hold, or how long Merlin will be out. We need to get him to Gaius, and bring that... thing.”

He gestures to the set of cuffs still sat in the grass, and Leon steps forward to pick them up. Elyan and Gwaine stand guard in front of Arthur and Merlin, (still being the only ones who are actually armed) and Lancelot and Percival rush around the group of bandits, still frozen in place, and through the door into the barn.

They come out not even a minute later with everyone’s swords, and hand them out. Merlin begins to stir, and Arthur spares him a quick glance before gesturing back towards where they left the horses.

The group huddles together, Arthur with Merlin protected at the back, pointing their weapons at the bandits as they shuffle back, moving as quickly as they could, not daring to move their gazes from the kidnappers.

Merlin stirs once more, but settles quickly, probably still a while from waking up, and the group reaches the treeline before they begin to pick up the pace.

They finally reach their horses, and Gwaine quickly helps Arthur load Merlin up in front of The King, head lolling back to rest against his shoulder.

Leon wraps the cuffs in a spare tunic before shoving them into a saddlebag, and the group takes one last look behind them, before galloping back in the direction of Camelot.

If they went by the crow flies, instead of detouring to those clearings, they could be back in three days, instead of the four and a half it had taken them to get here.

They ride through the night, trying to get as far away as possible, not taking any breaks, and only stopping to make camp a few hours after midnight.

Elyan splints and wraps Percival’s arm, Leon drinks plenty of water and tries not to pass out, and Lancelot coughs the whole journey, but other than that, there seems to be no lasting damage or serious injuries.

They have little food left, but (despite no one being willing to admit it) they were all a little shaken, and none were prepared to leave camp to hunt or forage for anything more substantial.

Merlin had stirred a few more times, and opened his eyes briefly when Arthur laid him on his bedroll, but it didn’t last long, and he was passed out again shortly after.

The King massages some water down his throat, has Elyan help him with digging out the arrowhead, and follows Percival’s instructions on which of the herbs Merlin had gathered would help best with pain, infections, and larger wounds. The arrow and stab wounds were stitched and thoroughly cleaned, before Arthur moved on to the less serious wounds: checking his jaw to see if it was broken (it wasn’t, thank the Gods), and dressing the burns and bruises on his neck and wrists. The head wound wasn’t serious thankfully, only requiring a thorough cleaning, and two stiches.

Leon takes the first watch with Arthur, on account of not being allowed to fall asleep just yet, but there isn’t much conversation as they watch their friends toss and turn, obviously not sleeping too well.

Gwaine takes over from Leon around two hours before sunrise, before informing Arthur that:

“If you don’t go to sleep, I’ll put you to sleep. And then we’d have to double-ride two horses. And that would slow us down even more. So. What’s it gonna be, princess?”

Arthur grumbles minimally, but he knows Gwaine is right. He doesn’t move from his spot however, choosing to lay down right next to Merlin.

Gwaine simply raises an eyebrow, (and wakes him before everyone else in the morning) at The King’s position.

Arthur has one hand gripping Merlin’s wrist, and the other splayed out against Merlin’s chest, his Warlock’s pulse, and breath, just under his fingertips whilst he slept.

They get back to Camelot when expected, around three days later, just before noon.

Leon’s concussion had cleared up completely by the time they had got there, and Lancelot’s throat wasn’t quite so irritated. Percival’s arm was still broken of course, but with the help of some medication they had brought with them, the pain hadn’t been too bad.

Merlin had woken up a few more times across the journey, but was far too exhausted to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, and despite his grumbling, he admitted that it would be best for him to continue sharing a horse.

He managed to get some food in him as well, which the knights were relieved at, and the herbs must’ve been very special, because the infection in the arrow wound was almost gone by the time they got him to Gaius, and they had managed to avoid infection in the stab wound entirely.

Speaking of Gaius, he fussed to the extreme when Merlin hobbled in to the infirmary, supported by The King. After double checking all of his wounds, and forcing a mixture of gross tasting potions down his throat, he had him asleep on one of the patient pallets whilst he checked over the others.

He set Percival’s arm with magic, gave Leon a potion for the headaches he would be having for the next week or so, and gave Lancelot a special tea mix to help with his throat.

The moment Gaius relaxed, Arthur did too, trusting the physicians assessment of his friends. Elyan had scurried off to find Gwen and the Lady Morgana, before joining Gwaine, Percival, Leon, and Lancelot, for much needed naps in their own quarters.

Once everything slowed down a bit, Arthur presented Gaius with the chains and key, and explained to him what had happened.

It was late in the evening at this point, so they spoke quietly, not wanting to disturb Gwen or Morgana, who had both fallen asleep in their chairs at Merlin’s bedside.

“His eyes were bright gold, but they looked... wrong? Like slightly the wrong colour. He was almost completely blank, barely reacted to pain, and just.... stared. Into the distance. Like he had no awareness of his physical surroundings.”

Gaius looked concerned, but not so much so that it worried Arthur:

“Ah. That would explain the severed connections with Morgana and the Druids, his consciousness was locked away, pushed far too deep for anyone to find him. What else?”

Arthur looked uncomfortable and shuffled his feet as he continued, recalling memories from the previous days that he was sure would haunt him as he slept:

“Well... he hesitated a few times, when he was told to... hurt us. Like he was fighting it. But when he was hit or yelled at, it looked like he sort of... re-set? And he would do whatever he was told.”

Gaius nodded:

“Yes. Merlin is incredibly powerful, but so are the enchantments on these chains. He would have fought against it viciously, but the sudden noise, or pain, would’ve have shocked his system into obeying without hesitation. I’m guessing that’s how you broke him free?”

Arthur glanced briefly towards Merlin, before nodding, and replying even quieter than before:

“Hmm. I waited until he looked most... unsure, most hesitant, then yelled at him to look at me. His eyes cleared for just a moment, he whispered “30 seconds” , then knocked himself out somehow. We got the key thing, held off the bandits for 30 seconds, then he woke up and I...-”

He clenches his jaw and looks away at this, letting out a harsh breath at the memory. Gaius pats his hand a few times consolably as he speaks:

“You did what you had to my boy, you didn’t take advantage, or force him to do anything he wouldn’t have willingly done anyway. If anything, from the sounds of it, you were far more merciful and forgiving than Merlin would’ve been.”

Arthur huffs a weak laugh at that, and Gaius smiles, before saying:

“I’m hesitant to analyse these chains until I know more. I’ll talk to the Druids tomorrow, and wait until Merlin’s strength returns before doing anything. You best get some sleep, My Lord.”

Arthur looks up sheepishly, and bites his lip not quite meeting Gaius’ eyes. The old physician raises an eyebrow, prompting him to speak:

“Would you mind if I... stayed here for the night? I can just pull out a pallet but I...-”

Gaius picks up where Arthur hesitates:

“Don’t want to leave him?-”

Gaius smiles once again at Arthur’s infinitesimal nod:

“That’s fine by me, though you’ll have to leave this room to talk to the council eventually.”

Without waiting for a response, Gaius gets up and walks away. He checks Merlin’s bandages briefly before shuffling off to what had been The Court Sorcerer’s previous room, before he had been given his own chambers.

Arthur sighs, and walks over to Merlin, standing above him. The colour has returned to his cheeks, and he looks much healthier now he was no longer covered in his own blood and was wearing clean clothes.

He sweeps the hair away from his forehead, and leans down to place a gentle kiss where his hand had been. He looks up to see Gwen looking at him sleepily, a fond smile on her face as she stares at Arthur’s blushing face.

She stands and stretches, before whispering:

“Why don’t you take my chair, Arthur? I should probably get back to Lancelot anyway, and I doubt you want to leave his side?”

Arthur nods slightly, and whispers his gratitude as Gwen gives him a quick hug, before sneaking out the door.

Arthur settles in the chair, finding a comfortable (or as comfortable as possible in a wooden chair with wonky legs) position, as he once again wraps one hand around Merlin’s wrist, and places the other over his chest.

He falls asleep after only minutes, and rests easier than he had in a week, satisfied with the knowledge that Merlin was safe and on the mend, and returned to the position Arthur thought he belonged in most: next to him.

THE END!

I dunno, I might write a part two, about the psychological effects on Merlin? Of having his magic controlled, AND of having to watch from behind his own eyes as he hurts his friends? Let me know if y’all wanna see something like that :)

EDIT: Part 2 is up! Link at the top

Same as always lads, you wanna write it out properly with paragraphs and descriptions and shit, go for it, but credit and tag me ✌

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xxonceuponafuckxx · 11 months ago

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"Then I don't want a royal servant. He didn't need to treat you like an idiot. You're not an idiot. So, let me be offended." He was angry, lashing out at Merlin a bit before trying to even out his tone. "I'm sorry, Merlin." Arthur sighed, slowing down. He sank the pitchfork into the ground again, leaning on it as he turned to look at Merlin. It was a look of confusion, clearly studying Merlin's face. "You're not going anywhere, Merlin. I don't want that kind of servant. The amount of arguments I get into when you can't hold your tongue. I do try to protect you as much as I can. I need you, Merlin." He didn't understand what Merlin was worried about. But, Arthur did have his own concerns when it came to the future. "I think about the future all the time. I have to. I have the potential to bring this entire kingdom to ruin. And, honestly, Merlin..." Arthur sighed, not wanting to admit it. "I am a bit scared of the future." He shook his head, deciding to amend the statement when a shiver ran down his spine. "I'm absolutely terrified." He took a deep breath, gesturing toward the stall. "See? You're a distraction, Merlin. I'd have this mucked out twice by now if you weren't prattling on." He felt too vulnerable, trying to think about something else. "Just know that I don't want a servant like George. My father doesn't even want a servant like George. He just likes that someone is willing to completely embarrass himself for his favor. You should pity George... He's never going to get what he wants, trust me. I've tried myself."

"To be fair, sire, a royal servant is supposed to know local animals. For hunting. When I was assigned as yours, Geoffrey in the archives tried to give me loads of reading materials." Merlin had found that his time was better spent helping Arthur in his own way. And it had never mattered that he couldn't recall what birds flew where or why the beaver population was important.

"I do not have a stick up my backside. You're my friend." And truth be told, Merlin hated seeing him hurt. Physically or emotionally. Closing the grain barrel again, he sat on the lid. "Do you think about the future?"

#para #arthur #arthur006 #morethanweseem

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 4 years ago

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Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part II)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I, here is part II.

CLAIM #3: Arthur *constantly* denied that Merlin was his friend

This claim assumes that Arthur was 1)- serious when he did deny being friends with Merlin and 2)- unwilling to change that viewpoint.

Arthur had no need to either deny or admit to being friends with Merlin. Even when he said in episode 2x13 that, “I know I’m a Prince, so we can’t be friends,” the implication is that he does want to be friends. After all, he was insisting that Merlin confide in him. This pattern would repeat in many episodes to come.

Bear in mind that Arthur has described other people as friends, too. This includes people we never saw onscreen. A clear example comes from episode 5x05, when Arthur was so moved with grief by Sir Ranulf’s death that he personally led a collection of knights to bring the sorcerer Osgar to justice. He explained to Gwen that “...he was a friend. We knew each other as boys.”

So why would Arthur have trouble admitting that Merlin was his friend? The viewpoint that being more arrogant and prejudiced in the earlier seasons, Arthur would not admit to friendship with a servant, does not hold as much water as some think. As early as episode 2x05, Arthur called Merlin a “true friend”, because he (mistakenly) thought that Merlin was criticising Lady Catrina on his behalf.

Admittedly, the best examples of Arthur accepting Merlin as a friend come from Seasons 4 and 5.

In episode 4x01, Merlin said, “I always thought that if things hadn’t been different, we’d have been good friends.” Arthur’s response? “Yeah.” During the crucial episode 4x03, Merlin sat outside the throne room all right, facing a crossroads between the end of his dreams and remaining loyal to the king. Of course, Arthur had no idea about this, but he appreciated the gesture. “You are a loyal friend, Merlin.” In episode 4x05, Arthur called Merlin “old friend”, which is self-explanatory.

It’s also worth noting that even after claiming in episode 4x05 that he didn’t need friends, when Merlin later said, “I’m your friend!”, Arthur did not disagree.

Now, I could cite the example of episode 4x07, where Arthur said to Merlin, “I’ve had my heart broken once today. I don’t want to lose another friend.” Self-explanatory. But was this proof of their friendship? No. Arthur was essentially threatening to end his friendship with Merlin if the latter continued criticising Agravaine. Later, in episode 4x11, Arthur again threatened to banish Merlin for the second time (thus ending their friendship) if he accused Agravaine of treason again. This once again shows how Arthur associated loyalty with family first.

One of the best examples comes from episode 4x13: “I came back because you’re the only friend I have, and I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Is Merlin Arthur’s only friend? No. However, out of all Arthur’s friends, Merlin was his best friend, and losing almost everyone and everything else made him realise that yet again.

Then we have all the actions which prove Arthur considered Merlin as a friend.

For example relied on Merlin’s opinion, as Princess Mithian rightly observed in episode 4x11. “One thing I’ve learned since being here is that Arthur values your opinion above almost all others.”

He complained about Merlin’s periods of silence and broodiness, like in episode 3x05: “Come on: I’m missing your usual prattle!” In episode 3x09, after noting that Merlin was upset, he said, “For goodness’ sake, what is your problem?”

Another example comes from episode 5x01, where Arthur noted Merlin sitting outside the camp and took the time to find out why he was “so upset”.

The example from episode 5x05 is self-explanatory: “Seriously, I haven’t seen you smile these past three days.” Arthur relies on Merlin’s cheerfulness to remain optimistic, because he faces the constant threat of death. Notice that shortly after Merlin’s sombre mood, Arthur stopped dismissing Osgar’s warnings about The Disir.

As if this were not enough, look at Arthur spending downtime with Merlin. A great example comes from episode 3x04, where Arthur decides on “a nice, cold tankard of mead” after hunting. In episode 3x13, both were sitting on the courtyard steps discussing the future of the kingdom. Even despite his strenuous denials and ingratitude in episode 4x05, you can see Arthur gesture for Merlin to sit down the morning after they captured Caerleon.

What about all the hunting trips? Arthur knows that Merlin hates hunting (in fact, he takes pleasure in this fact), yet still brought him along, as episodes 1x13, 3x04, 4x11, 5x03, and 5x11 show.

By far my favourite example comes from episode 5x12, when Arthur and Merlin were playing dice at the tavern. (I don’t know iwhat this game was called.) In my view, this happened regularly. Why else would the common people watch and laugh while Merlin poked fun at their king? (Percival’s face was classic.) And why was Arthur playing against Merlin? When did Merlin learn how to play dice? Who taught him? When?

Obviously, I do not know, but it’s worth asking.

Despite being speechless after Merlin “won” the game, Arthur let Merlin “win” all of his money. (Clearly, Arthur was the better player: “Feel free to retire at any time.” The king only used theatrics to get the right dice roll, while Merlin cheated with magic each time. If Merlin hadn’t “coughed”, then Arthur would have rolled correctly a second time. Hence why Arthur said beforehand, “Enjoy this moment, Merlin… while it lasts.”)

Look at Arthur, who was dressed in a plain shirt, rather than his armour and cloak. When we put this scene in conjunction with episode 3x04, where Arthur again wore plain clothes, we can see that he enjoyed these moments of normality. “There’s no better place to measure the mood of your people than the local tavern… I’m just a simple peasant like everybody else.”

So where is this strenuous denial? Nowhere. Arthur never constantly denied that Merlin was his friend. Nor did he only admit this in secret, otherwise the great dice scene in episode 5x12 would never have happened. Sure, the people might have been astonished to see their great king playing against a servant, but they must also have known that if Arthur allowed himself to be “beaten” at a game by his servant, the latter must be his friend.

CLAIM #4: Merlin was usually/always (in the) right

Wrong. Being right most of the time does not mean being right all of the time. Merlin failed to realise this, and consequently made grievous errors throughout the series. The most grievous errors came when he tried to fight against death. Episode 3x05 shows this; all of the grief and pain suffered by Arthur, Gwen, and Uther stemmed from Merlin mortally injuring Morgana in a bid to prevent her from killing the king.

He effectively ignored the warning to “use what you see for good.”

Then we have the example to end all examples; Merlin’s recklessness, presumptuousness, bold-faced hypocrisy, coldness, prejudice, and most of all, jealousy towards Sir Mordred.

Even as early as episode 1x08, Merlin almost let the boy Mordred die on account of a prophecy. At least back then he questioned it before hiding in bed like a coward. Mordred also blamed Merlin for Uther’s carnage in episode 2x11, though in the case of that episode and episode 2x03, I think Merlin’s actions were no worse than presumptuous.

It gets far worse in episode 5x02, when Merlin yelled, “You should have killed him!”, to which Arthur rightly said, “What is wrong with you?” Mordred saw that he could not jump across the gorge, so he surrendered and walked away. (He probably knew that Arthur would arrive in Ismere soon, as his later conversation with Morgana demonstrates.)

Later on, Arthur gave Merlin another strange look after Merlin said, “I told you, you should have killed him when you had the chance.” How could someone usually so compassionate insist on executing a man who stopped threatening them?

Remember how Merlin reacted to Arthur killing Caerleon in episode 4x05, despite having plenty of evidence that Caerleon was a threat to Arthur’s life?

By the way, episodes 5x01 and 5x02 are my favourite examples of Merlin being horrendously wrong. Other episodes include 5x05, and the crucial errors he made in episode 5x11. (I watched most of episode 5x11 last Sunday, and I was floored. It shook me more than 5x12 and 5x13, which I had also been avoiding for years.)

Going back to episodes 5x01 and 5x02 (because episode 5x11 is too depressing): if Arthur had listened to Merlin’s “advice”, he would have abandoned his knights to a slow death in slavery. He would also have committed murder, simply on Merlin’s say-so. If you kill someone who is defenceless and has surrendered, that is murder-- regardless of whether, like Merlin, you are desperately scared of a prophecy and speaking without thinking.

Also, if Arthur had rushed back to Camelot on Merlin’s say-so, he might well have been assassinated by Ruadan.

Most of all, almost everything that Merlin “advised” violated Arthur’s core beliefs-- the very beliefs that made Merlin respect Arthur in the first place. It’s astonishing that Arthur had to explain no less than five times that he would never abandon any of his men, otherwise he would be abandoning his own values and the values that built Camelot.

So desperate is Merlin to fight against death that he either quietly ignores this advice, or claims he agrees, only to try dissuading Arthur later on.

Just to be clear: I perfectly understand that beneath all Merlin’s horrible advice and prevarication, he does not want to lose his friend.

However, just watch Merlin’s marvellous inconsistency throughout episode 5x01. First, he plays Devil’s Advocate by asking Arthur, “Do you really think Gwaine and Percival could still be alive?” Arthur says he has to find out, because they are knights of Camelot. Merlin says, “I understand.” Of course he did.

Bear in mind that this happened before Merlin learned of the prophecy. Some have therefore asked what made Merlin unwilling to look for the missing knights, who were his friends.

In Annis’ castle, Merlin said, “I’m not sure we should go to Ismere.” On the other hand, Arthur, acting on reliable information that Morgana had rounded up slaves, took this as a sign that his mission was right. Merlin tried arguing, then gave up. One might assume that after two rational explanations, Merlin would see reason, particularly since even Kilgharrah could not confirm that the fated battle would take place.

But no. After the knights left Annis’ lands, Merlin complained again that Morgana was “powerful… dangerous.” So, Arthur explained yet again that “no matter what lies ahead of me, I won’t abandon them.” Merlin respected this answer, because he said, “I understand. I wish I didn’t-- but I do.” (Why does he wish he did not understand why Arthur would risk his life for all of his soldiers?)

But the very next day, after the ambush, Merlin turned to rage: “The two of us against Morgana, are you mad?” He tried stopping Arthur from going any further. So Arthur explained himself again. Consequently, Merlin continued following Arthur.

The very same night, he once again insisted that, “We have to turn back.” Arthur explained himself yet again, and Merlin promised to “protect you or die at your side.”

Which one is it? Not to mention that in episode 5x02, instead of apologising for his carelessness, Merlin said, “And I told you to go back to Camelot.” This is silly, given that Arthur had already refused to return on numerous occasions until he had rescued his men, assuming they were still alive.

The most hilarious example comes later, when Merlin says, “We can’t let them hand us over to Morgana: we need to get out of here, we need a plan.” But when Arthur comes up with that plan, what does Merlin say? “You’ve got to be joking!”, “You should have killed him!”, “Next time, we might not be so lucky.”, “We’ll never make it in there.”, and “How did you talk me into this?”

Again, which one is it?

I know why Merlin behaved this way, of course. However, there’s a difference between the noble goal of protecting your friend, and ignoring everything and everyone else in order to reach that goal-- particularly through controlling means. Throughout the series, Merlin’s biggest fault comes from his controlling tendencies, which always backfire. And he never learns.

In this way, Merlin shackled Arthur with unrealistic expectations about a Golden Age based on prophecies that he could not verify. Somehow, this Golden Age had now become evading Arthur’s death. He wanted Arthur to share that belief. Worse, even while his motives came from a noble goal, he treated other people as expendable.

Another example of Merlin’s absurd reasoning comes from the fateful episode 5x05. Putting aside the fact that Merlin tried claming that sentencing Mordred to die was an acceptable price to pay “for Camelot”, he also previously claimed that, “I do care. About who you are, Arthur. Who you are destined to become.”

This makes zero sense, given that Arthur had already taken the throne and “brought peace to the kingdom” (episode 5x03). What more did he have to achieve? It depends on who you ask: bringing back magic, uniting the five kingdoms, eternal peace, avoiding the prophecy about Mordred, bowing to the Triple Goddess, being the greatest king this land has ever known…

Can you see how unrealistic this is? Moreover, can you see how Merlin used Arthur as a vehicle of his own unrealistic ambitions? This is why the Golden Age never happened: it was a myth. It allowed the Druids, Gaius, Kilgharrah, etc. to live vicariously through the new king.

Bringing back magic was impossible while Morgana continued using it for great evil. (And the Triple Goddess, who complained about Arthur persecuting sorcery, allowed Morgana to continue that evil conduct.)

Arthur did take considerable steps to uniting the kingdoms, particularly when he signed a treaty with King Odin in episode 5x04. But eternal peace? Impossible, otherwise episodes 5x01 and 5x02 would not have happened.

The unbiquitous prophecy about Mordred was never backed by evidence, leaving Merlin in a state of constant paranoia, and causing him to make horrible errors. This despite the fact that, by his own admission, “I like him [Mordred] myself.” [1]

Bowing to the Triple Goddess was nothing but blackmail using Mordred’s life as a bargaining chip. This once again shows how many sorcerers had caused chaos and misery. Remember, this same Triple Goddess used torture techniques such as controlling people’s minds using the Fomorroh, as Morgana explained in episode 4x06.

While I believe that the persecution of peaceful sorcerers was wrong, Arthur had no quarrel with the Druids (episode 5x11), and he still had good reason for banning sorcery (also explained in episode 5x11). Nobody, not even Merlin, gave him a reason to change his mind. Kara definitely did not, for she wasn’t executed for being a Druid: she was executed for murder and attempted murder.

As for being the greatest king this land had ever known… Well, Arthur appreciated that statement in episode 4x12. However, when Merlin spoke of the greatest kingdom in the world in episode 4x13, Arthur said, “You’re making this up.”

In episode 5x01, Merlin claimed that, “Arthur, without you, Camelot is nothing.” Arthur disagreed, saying that abandoning his men was worse than surviving Morgana. Even in episode 5x04, Arthur accepted his death. “So be it. But understand this, Odin: you kill me, and you’ll have all of Camelot to answer to.” Odin was astonished that a king could have such confidence in the face of death.

The most important example comes from episode 5x13. Merlin said the same thing about Camelot being nothing without Arthur, to which the dying king said, “There was a time when that was true. Not now. There are many who can fill the crown.” And of course, he gave the royal seal to Gwen. Can anyone argue with this?

I guess you could say that Arthur didn’t believe his own hype.

Indeed, Arthur felt satisfied about what he had achieved in his life. “Everything you’ve done, I know now. For me, for Camelot. For the kingdom you helped me build.” (Episode 5x13). That was it. Arthur knew that he had changed Camelot for the better, that Merlin killing his half-sister had brought “peace at last”, and that he owed Merlin an unpayable debt for helping him to achieve all of these goals.

Why did Arthur accept the certainty of his death for so long? Because he believed his cause was right, and his death would help save the lives of thousands in Camelot. Dying in service to Camelot was his real destiny. It was inevitable, and to him, it was the most honourable act he would ever undertake.

You cannot know how great you will be until you die. “That’s the way things work, I’m afraid. You get the glory when you’re not around to appreciate it.” (Episode 4x06). At that point, you will never see your legacy. Merlin either did not know that, or he did not want to know it.

Arthur’s death ultimately serves as the greatest evidence that Merlin was wrong the whole time.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART III

FOOTNOTES

[1] I don’t doubt that Merlin liked Mordred. In fact, the scene in episode 5x05, where Merlin buried Osgar, shows how difficult it was for him to maintain his mistrust when the druid was so polite and perceptive. So why the contradiction? Why claim you like someone, yet insist that they would commit regicide? The answer is that Merlin used the prophecy as an excuse. In fact, his prejudice against Mordred had more to do with jealousy than the prophecy. After being involved in an attempt to trade Arthur and Merlin as slaves to Morgana, Arthur knighted the druid for one noble act. Did Merlin aspire to be a knight? I don’t know. He definitely wanted that same level of trust and respect given to Mordred, though, and knighthood created a bond that a servant could not have.

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little-ligi · 4 years ago

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you have SIX PLANNED FICS OF CAGE FIGHTING GWAINCELOT???!!!

*unholy screaming*

and i will be checking out that published one later today 😌

it is such a good trope and you can get the ✨ angst ✨ in there too, it's wonderful

😁😁😁 I do indeed...! (you know what we were saying the other day about having two cakes?!! Well yeah..... HAVE SIX!!)

(Eee!! I hope you like Blindfolded, it is one of my favourite things I've written!)

Ok, so, since I love talking about my wips and I adore screaming about Gwaincelot, please allow me to prattle on self indulgently for a while...

I’m going to put this under a cut because it is kinda long and has some little snippets!! 😉

1. So first, one that is pretty much exactly like that post, set in episode 3x13. When Lancelot and Percival arrive, Gwaine takes one look at Lancelot and goes, ‘I know you’. And then immediately punches him in the face. The other soon-to-be knights split them up and Merlin has to try and reassure them that they are all friends (at which point they basically have a ‘Merlin is MY best friend! No, he’s MY best friend!’ kind of fight 😂) Equal parts angst and humour!

“Come and meet everyone,” Merlin said, leading Lancelot and Percival over to where the others were sitting.

“Good to see you again, Lancelot,” Gaius said gladly, a smile breaking over his tired face.

“Hang on,” Gwaine suddenly blurted, a frown tugging his eyebrows low over his eyes. “I know you.”

He stormed over until he was right up in Lancelot’s face, scrutinising him with disdain. Then, without warning, he drew his fist back and punched Lancelot solidly in the mouth. Lancelot staggered backwards, stunned and cradling his face. Percival caught him before he fell and practically growled at Gwaine.

“Whoa, whoa!” Leon cried, putting a hand on Gwaine’s chest and pulling him back. “What was that for?!”

2. This one is after they have become knights, and they can’t work out why the other seems so familiar, until Arthur pits them against each other in training and Gwaine does his cool disarming and catching the sword then fighting two handed thing and BOOM... ✨angsty flashbacks!✨

Lancelot’s fingers are bent backwards as the sword is twisted out of his grip. It jars his wrist painfully and he dodges back, suddenly defenceless. Gwaine catches Lancelot’s sword as it arcs out of his hand, bringing the tip down to point at Lancelot’s chest with an easy grin.

Lancelot falters. Only once before has he ever had someone disarm him in such a way; years ago, in a slaver’s fighting cage. He blinks, staring at Gwaine. He imagines him without his chainmail, his face covered in dirt and bruises, his beard longer, his hair tied into a ragged knot at the back of his head.

He stumbles backwards and falls to the ground. It was Gwaine. It was Gwaine fighting in that cage.

3. Another is basically episode 2x04, except Gwaine is there too. It’s Gwaine that does the first fight and sees Gwen (and because he hasn’t been to Camelot yet, he believes she is Morgana) After the fight he tells Lancelot about Hengist having kidnapped Morgana. Lancelot being the noble knight-wannabe he is, obviously wants to rescue Morgana, goes to her cell and finds Gwen instead. (This one is actually more Gwencelot 💕 than Gwaincelot really.)

“Hengist has captured a princess. He’s holding her for ransom.”

“This is no place for a princess,” Lancelot said darkly, his gaze fixed on the dank corner of the room, the echoing sounds of fighting coming from the main hall.

“Particularly not one as beautiful as the Lady Morgana,” Gwaine said. He shook his head sadly.

Lancelot sprang to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword. “The Lady…? Did you say the Lady Morgana?” Gwaine nodded. “We have to rescue her,” Lancelot said firmly, his voice brooking no argument.

Gwaine considered him for a moment; he knew Lancelot had a twisted loyalty to Camelot despite the way the king had treated him, but this seemed a little crazy. Although…

“Rescuing princesses?” He ran a hand through is hair and grinned. “Sounds like just my kind of thing.”

4. This one they are prisoners and after a fight they are shoved in a cell together and start talking. Lancelot mentions Camelot and being friends with the prince’s manservant and how he was banished, and Gwaine turns around and spouts basically the entire plot of episode 5 (minus the magic bits of course 😂) Lancelot is slightly freaked out and asks how the hell Gwaine knows his whole story. And Gwaine tells him how Merlin and Arthur and Gwen all talked about Lancelot constantly the whole time Gwaine was in Camelot. Basically everyone loves Lancelot, including Gwaine before he even met him!

“You’re Lancelot!” Gwaine cried suddenly, making the other man flinch back. His jaw clenched and alarm flared in his deep dark eyes.

“How do you know my name?” he asked warily. Gwaine didn’t miss the way his hand crept to his waist to draw a dagger.

“Merlin never shuts up about you; his friend who wants to be a knight but isn’t noble.” He grinned. “You killed a griffin.”

“No…” Lancelot shook his head uncomfortably, ducking his eyes away from Gwaine’s. “I… didn’t –”

“Don’t be modest!” Gwaine crowed, slapping him on the back. “Even Arthur mentioned how brave and honourable you are.”

5. A darker whumpy one, where they are really fighting for their lives, fighting to kill each other. They are both pretty badly hurt and are just left for dead by the bandits that were keeping them. They end up grudgingly helping each other. While delirious with pain, Gwaine starts talking about Merlin and Lancelot decides they need to try and get to Camelot (screw their banishments, they need Merlin!) Lots and lots of angst!

6. And lastly, they are both in the fighting ring and have beaten everyone else so their captor keeps pitting them against each other hoping to name one of them as his champion. They are pretty much equal and there is lots of juicy 🔥rivalry🔥(my favourite thing 😉) They start betting each other, but they have nothing to bet with except their life stories so it becomes a case of every time one of them gets a good hit in the fight the other has to tell him a secret about his life. They become really close and eventually fall in love! 💗

Unfortunately you can’t have snippets from these two because neither of them actually have any words yet, just very long rambly plot plans and notes! 🙈🙈

So there we go! Ligi is finshed shamelessly talking about her wips!! (for now 😉😉) I will try and finish all of these at some point... but you know, I say that about all of my wips and then rather than doing it I create new wips instead! My wip count is now up to 84.................. 😑

While writing this post I have actually had two more ideas for new cage fighting gwaincelot fics as well.... 😂🙈😅

#i like talking about my wips way more than actually writing them #gwaincelot rivalry🔥#gwaine and lancelot cage fight #yup that's my kink now #to be honest i didn't realise i had used it quite so many times until i counted this morning #🙈🙈🙈#it's just such a good trope #you can pry it from my cold dead fingers #now i just need to finish these #i will try #i will get around to writing more at some point #god if i had a pound for every time i had said that #i would be so fucking rich #BUT AT LEAST I AM RICH IN GWAINCELOT CONTENT #I HAVE MUCH OF THAT #i have so many wips

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camxlots-retxrn · 4 years ago

Text

so I wrote this fic and I may or may not have just spent several hours recreating the cabin it takes place in within the sims🧍🏻‍♀️

+ the layout (yard looks v bare because I had to remove the trees for this pic so that the entire view isn’t obstructed by leaves)

okay I have headcanons to babble about so feel free to move on now :)

alright so I'd like to preface that the colors most likely mismatch because I am Colored Blind (TM). I still like building though so I just do the best I can skjfsdkjf. y’all can pretend they match

anyway

the little chest on the fireplace mantle is where Merlin kept Arthur’s crown, sigil, and ring while Arthur was, yknow, in Avalon

the boxes behind the house are where the chicken coup mentioned in the fic would be, but sims doesn’t have chickens, so. . .

these boxes are where he keeps a bunch of other stuff from Camelot bc I 10000000% think he kept everything he could

there are storage centers (or a cellar under the house??) with everything else he salvaged

the basket by the fireplace was made by him. Gwen taught him basket weaving once upon a time <3

I (and many others I think) also 1000% believe that Merlin adopts many talents during his wait for Arthur (instruments, advancements in medicine/potion making, art, gardening, keeping historical records, the works), so those little works of art pinned up by the dining room table are his

its mentioned in the fic that merlin rarely used the dining room table, but instead just ate at the armchairs by the fireplace (if he ate at all), so he used the dining table as a lil work space

but now there are fancy pitchers and such because Arthur is still a king who’s a prat

there’s an umbrella by the coat rack bc when Arthur returned he’s like “so these umbrella things exist?? why don’t you own one??” and merlin’s like “bc I can control the weather dumbass” and Arthur’s like “well I want one.” and merlin’s like “I could just stop the rai-” but it’s a freaking umbrella those are so cool. I think the first time Arthur opens one he would give that really confused ???what the fuck is this?? look he does sometimes

once Arthur returns he likes sitting on the bench by the lil pond bc dude is mourning but there are pretty birds out there

btw worth mentioning the pond isn’t meant to mimic Avalon it’s just a pond

Avalon is east of this house tho

ok I'm done prattling about this now!! I'm quite certain it looks like ass because of the colors all being off, but it looks like it matches to my broken eyes so thats good enough for me

#I'm js maybe I can see and everyone else is color blind #my post #bbc merlin #sims 4 #food mention #alt text #august posts

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i-write-stories-not-sins-bitch · 2 years ago

Text

Literally just watched this ep again and I wanted to punch Arthur for being so stupid and tunnel-visioned.

Instead of realising that Cedric was being way too forward with his advances to Arthur and being sooooo eager to do anything Arthur pleased, he instead focused on everything Merlin hadn’t done for him.

Merlin didn’t brush him off and pick every tiny lint ball off him - Merlin does keep him looking sharp, he just doesn’t obsess over Arthur’s image, which is a good thing since everyone looks to Arthur the ‘Prince who has to be perfect’ rather than Arthur the ‘boy who only just became an adult’.

It’s one of the things he likes about Merlin, the fact that he was the opposite of the people who treat Arthur only as a prince rather than a person.

Merlin saw Arthur. Not a crown.

Merlin isn’t there bright and early, and brings him a single plate of food instead of a feast like Cedric. He also doesn’t hover and top up his glass as soon as Arthur takes a sip.

Merlin is there when Arthur needs to be awake. He isn’t there at a set time every day because if Arthur doesn’t have a meeting or important thing, why shouldn’t he get as much sleep as he can? Merlin annoys him awake by prattling on instead of coaxing him out of bed.

In later seasons we literally see Merlin bodily drag Arthur out of bed. And what does Arthur do? Complain. He doesn’t scream and throw Merlin in the stocks for touching the Crown Prince/King (can’t remember what he is when we see it), he gets annoyed at Merlin for making him leave his bed.

Merlin brings enough food for Arthur. He doesn’t need a feast every meal, and in no way will he finish it all on his own. Merlin provides Arthur with enough food to fill him without it being a complete waste of resources.

Merlin doesn’t hover because Arthur doesn’t actually like it. Any time we’ve seen him do it, Arthur’s waved him off. So he uses the time to talk and tend to other chores in the room, unless he has other responsibilities then he brings the food and leaves.

There’s the belt joke at some point and find it even funnier considering Merlin actively gives Arthur healthy amounts of food - and sometimes he just gets a fucking bread loaf for his troubles.

Arthur believed Merlin ‘fell asleep’ in the stables - on a literal pile of shit - and also managed to undo all the knots securing the horses. Which would be impossible for both.

It’s insanely obvious that Merlin hadn’t just laid down and rested his head in horse shit. And Arthur knows Merlin would’ve just left the stables. It’s so stupid that Arthur didn’t connect the dots in some sense, how Merlin had fallen unconscious rather than slept.

And if he did realise that - which apparently he didn’t - he should’ve at least been mildly concerned that Merlin had passed out. Accidentally or through external forces, he should’ve at least checked that Merlin was ok. He’s called Merlin a friend before this, he should at least go ‘you ok?’ Fucking hell.

HOW COULD MERLIN HAVE UNTIED THE HORSES IF HE WAS ASLEEP? How does Arthur believe that they all freed themselves??? Arthur knows the knots they use. Knows the horses are secure. And yet he expects them to be able to free themselves (I know we see that the knots aren’t tied tightly in the ep but like, that’s for convenience of the filming. They needed Cedric to untie them fast) so he was out his damn mind.

Merlin outright saying that Cedric was vying for his job should have set off warning bells in Arthur’s mind. Merlin has never once accused anyone of this, and he’s never been jealous of people helping attend to Arthur before. It was out of character. And he trusts Merlin. Should have had some faith in him at LEAST.

Oh Merlin called Arthur a mean name he just made up cause he’s angry that he’s being ignored. Then Arthur takes the side of a man who he’s known a fucking day over his manservant that’s been nothing but loyal to him.

Arthur acts as if Merlin doesn’t regularly insult him.

He listens to Cedric and basically tells Merlin to fuck off and sort himself out or he’ll be sacked. As if they hadn’t already done this and Arthur had already realised Merlin is his manservant. His friend. Nope, character development? Who’s she?

Arthur let’s Cedric eavesdrop on Merlin’s conversation with him rather than give him the respect of privacy. The he protects Cedric from Merlin and arrests him instead of pulling him away and getting to the bottom of it like a friend would.

Why

Just why

Arthur throws everything Merlin had done for him - as well as Merlin’s trust - right back in his face when he favours this new boot-licking overachiever over his friend. Throws Merlin in jail for getting angry as if Arthur hasn’t done the same. Practically writes ‘We aren’t friends’ on Merlin’s face.

He wholly betrays Merlin’s trust and undermines his friendship value when he says “Ok, Cedric come in.” He knew Cedric was listening and didn’t give Merlin the opportunity of privacy and solidarity. Something a friend would do.

I just wanna punch him.

Then after everything (and yes I know Arthur is an emotionally constipated little bastard but he managed to thank Gwen for saving his life) he just puts Merlin back to work. He doesn’t ask is Merlin wants to work for him again, or apologises for being a bad friend.

He just.

He just assumes Merlin won’t fight back.

No ‘sorry for being a bad friend/employer’ or ‘would you like your job back’. Just “Here’s all my armour, clean it by tomorrow even though it’s almost midnight.”

AND HE GIVES MERLIN A TASK THAT (we know he’s magic but Arthur doesn’t) ANYONE WOULD STRUGGLE WITH IN THE TIME FRAME WHILE TRYING TO GET A DECENT NIGHTS REST. HE JUST EXPECTS MERLIN TO CLEAN AND GO STRAIGHT TO WORK?!

AAAA HE ANNOYS ME SOOO MUCH THIS EPISODE.

This episode doesn’t show Arthur, Merlin’s friend.

It shows Crown Prince Arthur Pendragon Of Camelot.

It’s such a stark difference, bond wise.

Ok I’m done but it still fucking aggravates me

this poor baby looks like hes going to cry after arthur's dismissal

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #he deserves better #arthur pendragon #prince arthur #merlin and arthur #merthur #Merthur I guess #I ship them but only after Arthur’s heads far enough out his own ass #I mean #Bradley James points out that he disliked the fact that Arthur changed his actions towards merlin a lot #and the fact that his character development dissipates #Arthur learns a lesson one episode and forgets the next

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rosedavid · 4 years ago

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Head cannon idea: Merlin gets kidnapped by sorcerers in the night and of course Arthur is really concerned and going out of his mind to get him back. However Merlin is actually having a lot of fun and learning a lot from his kidnappers who are actually really kind.

This is so great!! It should have been canon at some point tbh. Thanks for the headcanon idea :)

...

So first of all, Arthur just assumes Merlin is being Merlin and has gone off somewhere random, so he’s not super worried. He’s not worried when Merlin doesn’t serve him breakfast or lunch because Merlin is a pretty bad servant, especially when he gets invested in something else.

Arthur decides to see if Gaius knows where his idiot manservant happens to be, so he wanders down to ask him. What he doesn’t expect is to see Gwen and some of his knights chatting worriedly with Gaius.

Arthur: What’s going on?

Everyone immediately goes silent and send directed looks at each other. Finally, after a few seconds, Gwaine is unceremoniously shoved forward unwillingly.

Arthur: Well then? Explain.

Gwaine: Why do I have to do it?!

Elyan: This is payback for making us cover your drunk hijinks so often!

Gwaine: Fine. I’m just going to come out and say it then. We think Merlin’s been kidnapped.

And Arthur immediately starts Freaking Out.

Arthur: WHAT?! WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME? WE NEED TO ORGANIZE A SEARCH PARTY IMMEDIATELY. WAIT, NO, 2 SEARCH PARTIES-THAT IDIOT IS NOT GETTING OUT OF HIS CHORES FOR ANOTHER DAY JUST BECAUSE HE GOT KIDNAPPED!

Gwen: That is why we didn’t want to tell you, at least not until we had a solid plan. We knew you’d get all worried-

Arthur: Me, worried? No, I’m not worried about Merlin, not at all. I’m angry that he’s the worst servant in history!

No one believes him, of course.

Meanwhile....

Merlin wakes up with an awful pain in his head. He groans, clutching at it before sitting up and looking around. He’s in some sort of prison cell, and from the light coming in through the windows, he can tell it’s daytime.

He assess his surroundings, thinking of ways to find his way out and attack, when suddenly his kidnappers come in.

Kidnapper #1 (Darryl): Oh good, you’re awake!

Merlin, snarling: Come to torture me?

Kidnapper #2 (Eliza): Torture you? We’d never do that, Emrys! The Druids are peaceful people.

Merlin: Wait, you’re druids? Also, if you don’t want to torture me, why did you kidnap me?

Darryl: We had to get King Arthur’s attention somehow.

Merlin, on guard again: Are you planning on killing Arthur?!

Eliza: Oh, of course not! We just wanted to talk with him about letting druids trade again.

Merlin: ...but why did you kidnap ME?!

Darryl: Isn’t it obvious? The King is enamored with you. We’ve heard of your special connection from others.

Merlin, blushing: S-special connection? No way, Arthur doesn’t think about me like that.

Eliza: Trust me, it’s true. We figured kidnapping you would get his attention, but we also wanted to talk to Emrys beforehand to try to gain his support.

Merlin: You know you could have just asked me, right?

Eliza: We couldn’t risk being in Camelot for too long. I’m sorry we had to do it this way. Now, come here, your head wound must hurt. I did not want to risk using magic in Camelot to knock you out. Let me heal you.

Merlin: Really, that would be great! Can you tell me what you’re doing? I need to learn more healing magic.

Eliza: Of course!

Darryl: Would you like some tea? I’ll go brew you some.

A few hours later, Arthur gets intel from some servants about Merlin’s whereabouts. He’s still extremely worried, although he refuses to admit it. The others go with him just to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed out of negligence.

When they do find the place Merlin is being held, Arthur storms in, sword held high, expecting the worst....

Then, he sees Merlin sitting on a pillow in an open cell, sipping tea with two other people. He drops his sword, gaping.

And Merlin just grins and waves: Oh, hey Arthur! It’s about time you showed up.

Arthur: I-I thought you got kidnapped!

Merlin: Oh, technically I did, but Eliza and Darryl are actually really great. It’s just a big misunderstanding. They needed to talk to you, but were too afraid to go in person because they’re Druids, so they kidnapped me to get you to come. I told them that you wouldn’t be very worried, and I’m surprised you came so quickly.

Arthur, stuttering: I wasn’t worried at all! I figured you were just being an idiot again. It was the others that insisted on searching for you immediately.

The others snicker at him from behind, along with Eliza and Darryl.

Merlin: Maybe I’ll just stay with my kidnappers. They treat me way better than you, prat.

Arthur: You can’t stay with your kidnappers! That’s ridiculous. You’re coming back to Camelot at once.

Merlin: Hmmm, can I get a day off if I come back?

Arthur: Can you get a-Merlin, I came here to save you from your kidnappers, and now you’re seriously bargaining for coming back?!

Merlin: Well, is that a yes?

Arthur agrees, of course, because there’s no way he could survive without Merlin for very long. Also, he talks to Eliza and Darryl, despite the fact that they kidnapped Merlin, because Merlin insists that they didn’t intend any harm. He finds himself agreeing with their proposal about druid trade, too. Arthur still finds himself in a weird situation though, because how can he just let two kidnappers go free? I mean, technically, they did kidnap Merlin?

Merlin: You can’t punish them, Arthur, they’re my friends!

Arthur: Now you’re friends with them?!

Merlin: Come on, Arthur, everything turned out okay in the end!

Begrudgingly, Arthur decides to not punish them. After all, they are friends with Merlin, so they can’t be that bad.

They head back to Camelot, listening to Merlin prattle on about how great his kidnappers were.

Arthur: Next time you get kidnapped, don’t expect me to show up. You’ll just make friends with your kidnappers and everything will be fine! I won’t even worry.

(Everyone, including Merlin, know that’s a lie).

#bbc merlin #merthur #merthur headcanon #merlin headcanon #merlin #merlin bbc #my headcanons #prompts #answered #asks #anonymous

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hayleysstark · 4 years ago

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I always wondered what would have happened if Merlin hadn't ducked the chair in the tavern brawl (S3 ep 4-Gwaine). A sort of delayed response like in more severe concussions. Maybe a coma or some of the other serious side effects. I'm excited to read your work.

Thank you

okay okay i would like to preface this by saying i have been fortunate enough that i’ve never experienced a delayed concussion, and all that comes with it, so this is probably not 100% medically accurate, but consider, Merlin has magic and if we can believe in magic, we can believe this is how delayed concussions work. okay?? okay. thank you.

"What happened to your head?" Arthur asks, on the way back to Camelot, with Gwaine—passed out cold, probably still drunk, and absolutely dead to the entire world with the knife lodged firmly in his thigh—slung over his saddle. "Looks like you took a bad blow back there."

"I didn't," Merlin waves him off. It would be a lie to say the impact didn't rattle him a bit, but he's sure he'll be all right when he's had some sleep—his magic usually heals his everyday bumps and bruises in the night, and there's no reason to think it would let him down now. "I'm fine. I got lucky, he only just clipped me."

Or, well, he supposes the man only just clipped him, because he has to suppose that, because supposing is all he can really do about it, because—if he's being completely and wholly honest with himself here—he doesn't know for sure. He doesn't know what the chair did. He doesn't even know what the man with the chair did. All he knows is the moment right before—a real big muscly fellow, as Gwen would call him, with long, scraggly blond hair hanging limp and greasy around his filthy, sneering face, clutching a truly enormous wooden chair in his massive, meaty hands, and his mean, dark eyes narrowed, and locked firmly on Merlin—but that's it, that's all, that's where it cuts out, that's where it fades to black, in that tiny handful of seconds between one heartbeat and the next.

He didn't pass out.

And he knows he didn't pass out.

But he opened his eyes, and he was on the floor, with the chair some ten feet away, tipped over on its side, one of the thick legs snapped off in a shower of sharp splinters, and that's all he knows, that's all he remembers.

"Well, it is bad form to hit a girl, you know," Arthur tosses a quick, smug glance back over his shoulder, but the minute his eyes fall on Merlin, his face does a funny little spasm, and the smirk slides off his lips like water. "Merlin, you're bleeding."

Merlin hastily rubs away the wet, warm, bright red trail streaking down his temple with the edge of his jacket sleeve, until the blood smears into a dull brown stain on the thin cloth. "I'm fine. He just scraped me when he—" I suppose he just scraped me, but if he says it like that, Arthur will ask, and he's sure it'll come back to him, he's sure he'll remember, there's no need to fuss about it right now, "—head wounds bleed a lot," he says, instead, a little too quickly. "It's normal. Gaius told me."

"Gaius said that?" Arthur's wrinkled brow smooths back out. "Oh, that's all right, then." He pokes lightly at Gwaine's limp frame, sprawled slackly out in the saddle in front of him, and adds, "Reckon he'll have his hands full with this bloke, anyway."

"Yeah," Merlin nods, "I reckon he will."

As it turns out, Gaius does have his hands full with Gwaine, and Merlin feels fine, so he just doesn't bother to bring it up with the old man at all.

When he finally scrubs off the last of the dried, sticky blood still clinging to the side of his head in dark streaks, he sees the scrape runs far deeper than he thought—less of a scrape, and more of a cut, but it's fine, it's nothing, it will probably be scabbed over and well on its way to healing up in the morning—one of the many benefits of magic—so he rinses the red stains out of the clean white rags he used, and he goes to bed, and he thinks no more about it.

From the minute Merlin opens his eyes, he knows something's wrong.

The world feels wrong—uneven and off-center, like the earth's off its axis, and when he stands up, he feels almost lopsided, like a little girl's doll, too limp and loose to hold himself up, but that's nothing to the way the chamber spins and spins and spins around him, like a child's top. The cut hasn't scabbed over, and he's got what has to be the worst headache he's ever had in his entire life, with a dark, furious bruise on his brow, purple and swollen and painful.

But he hasn't got the time to wait around here for Gaius and tell him about it—he's got far too much to do today to bite his nails over a headache of all things—and anyway, his magic has never let him down before, so he's sure he'll be fine in an hour or so, it's probably just taking a bit longer because, well, a chair clipped him 'round the head, it's not so simple as a bad fall or a brutal spar with Arthur.

He doesn't bother with breakfast—he feels a bit sick, honestly—but he does take a plate up for Gwaine and check the man's leg while he's at it (one less thing for Gaius to worry about when he gets back) before he heads down to Arthur's chambers.

"You're bruised," Arthur says, the minute Merlin walks in the door, like he thinks maybe Merlin hasn't got a mirror, or a pair of eyes in his head.

"You take a hit like that to the face and see how you look," Merlin fires back, and that's the end of that.

Merlin thinks, maybe, it was a mistake to not talk to Gaius.

Merlin thinks, maybe, it was a mistake to come in to work at all today.

The everyday noise of the castle is just such a nightmare—the quiet chatter of the busy servants going about their work, the boisterous prattle of the bored guards stuck at their stations, the click and thud of high heels and heavy boots on cold marble floors and hard stone stairs, the soft clinks of the dishes down in the kitchens, it all makes his head pound like a drum, until it feels like his brain might burst with it—but the courtyard is nothing short of murder.

The sun stabs into his skull like a knife, even when he shuts his eyes and turns his head, but it's the sound that really does him in. The snorts and whines of the horses fresh from a hard ride, the clank and clang of swords and shields, the groan and grunt of the water pump as a thin, nervous maid fills up her bucket, the shouts and hollers of the knights and squires out on the training grounds.

It's all so loud, and it's all so much, and he can hardly think past the sharp shocks of pain up and down his brow, and maybe he should just tell Arthur—he knows Arthur will be fair about it, he knows Arthur is a good man, he knows Arthur will give him a few hours off to see Gaius, he knows it, but the melee is only a few days off, and Arthur needs a servant to see to him while it's going on, and it'll all go a lot smoother for him if he's got his servant, who already knows everything, his schedule and his preferences and his quirks, seeing to him until it's over.

Where Arthur strolls down the wide stone steps to say hello to Sir Oswald, Merlin stumbles—his legs feel funny, shaky and weak, and he's sure he'll trip over and fall flat on his face any moment now (and won't Arthur love that) but he makes it all the way to the ground without a single nosedive.

"—my servant, Merlin," Arthur claps a hand on Merlin's shoulder—

—and he has to bite his bottom lip to hold in a gasp, because it jostles his neck, sore and tender from where his head snapped back when the chair hit him and that—

—that—

—that can't be right, can it?

No, no, that simply can't be right, because the chair only clipped him, remember, because he was all right on the ride back to Camelot—a little dazed and a little dizzy, sure, but who wouldn't be after a blow like that?—and he was all right that night, too, nothing but the slight sting when he cleaned the cut, when the edges of the broken skin stretched with the scrub of the cloth over it. No, no, he's all right, he's fine, it didn't hit him in the face, it did not hit him full in the face, because his head would hurt a lot more if it had.

It clipped the side of his head a bit hard, that's all.

"—loves hard work," Arthur says, with another painful clap on Merlin's shoulder, and he bites back a wince this time, "so, anything you need, just give him a call."

"Believe me," Sir Oswald says seriously, "I will."

Sir Oswald is as bad as his word.

Merlin's ears ring louder than the biggest bells in the Camelot cathedral, and it feels he's got a blunt sword stuck in his skull, and he's shaking all over, dripping with sweat and shuddering with cold, and little white stars pop and pop and pop before his tired eyes, but he stays on his feet, and he finally shoulders the door open.

He hauls the heavy trunk inside.

"What took you so long?" Sir Oswald, leaning elegantly back in his chair, his dirty boots up on the table, pops a blueberry in his mouth.

"What?" Merlin rasps, because it takes him a second to really hear it, takes a second for the words to make sense to him. Everything is taking a second to make sense to him today. "It—it weighs a ton," he points out, rather fairly, in his opinion.

Sir Oswald stares coldly back at him.

"The stairs," he adds quickly, because he knows what it means when a knight looks at him like that, he knows it means if he doesn't come up with a damn good excuse, he'll be in the stocks—or in the dungeons, or tied to a whipping post—faster than he can blink. "It's seven flights." He's so exhausted, it might as well have been a thousand.

"That's very kind of you," Sir Ethan smiles at him, almost kind, so he musters up a small, tired grin of his own before he pushes himself back up on his feet—the room spins and spins and spins, like Gaius' chambers, around him, and he thinks he might really be sick, here on Sir Oswald's pristine floor—

"—but you can't leave it there."

Merlin turns—the room spins and spins and spins like Gaius' chambers, like a child's top, and his stomach churns and his head hurts. "I-I can't?" he says, uncertainly, mostly to make sure he's heard right, because everything sounds different with the funny ringing in his ears, because everything is taking a second to make sense to him lately, because the world is wrong, because the world is uneven and off-center, because the earth is off its axis.

"It's in the way," Sir Oswald jerks his chin at the trunk—which is, admittedly, very much in the way.

"Okay," Merlin nods, but it hurts, and he has to stop. "Where do you want it?"

For the first time all day, Merlin doesn't feel sick, so when he gets home, he downs an entire bowl of soup, and he thinks, maybe, he should wait for Gaius to get back, so he can tell him about his head, about how awful he feels, but he hasn't even rinsed his bowl before the door swings open, and Gwen peers inside.

"Merlin," she says, seriously, "I think you need to come with me."

Merlin follows Gwen all the way down to the tavern, where he finds Gwaine in a stupor, with a tab longer than his own leg, and a red-faced, furious barkeep.

He drags a very drunk Gwaine back home and gets him settled safely in bed where he can't hurt himself (or drink anymore) before he goes back downstairs, to a dark and empty room, and vomits up that bowl of soup.

"S-Sorry," Merlin rasps out, the next morning, as he comes into Arthur's bedchamber and puts his breakfast down—even the light little thud of the plate on the desktop makes his head ache, and he doesn't think he'll ever remember what it's like to not be dizzy ever again. "I-I know I'm late."

"Not at all," Arthur says easily.

"Um," Merlin says, blankly. Is he not late? He certainly feels late. But Arthur's not looking at him like he's late, so that must mean— "Good." He takes a small step back—his skull screams at the sudden move, but his skull screams about everything lately—and turns away to make Arthur's bed.

"You're not sick?" Arthur says, all of a sudden, out of the blue. "Unsteady? About to burst into song?"

Merlin thinks this must be one of Arthur's jokes (like how he says shut up, Merlin at least a hundred times a day, but God knows he'll get all huffy and pouty and moody if Merlin ever actually does shut up) so he doesn't say, yes, my head hurts so badly I can barely think straight anymore, and I think that chair might have hit me harder than I realized. He only pulls the blankets up higher and tucks in the edges and says, "No, why?"

Arthur snatches up a sheet of parchment off his desk, shakes it out with a soft rustle, and reads off, so loudly it makes Merlin's skull scream again, "Fourteen quarts of mead—"

Oh. Merlin's stomach drops. Oh, so that's what this is about.

"—three flagons of wine," Arthur drones on, relentless, "five quarts of cider—"

Merlin comes 'round the bed, head ducked down so the light won't hit his eyes. "I—I can explain," he says, weakly.

"—four dozen pickled eggs," Arthur never looks up from the paper in his hands, but he raises his voice even more, and Merlin has to wait until the pain—so sharp he sees the white stars again—dulls down enough to let him talk.

"That was Gwaine," he says finally, and a little shakily. "He went to the tavern, and he couldn't pay for it."

"So you said I would," Arthur says, in a huffy sort of tone that leaves no doubt as to his opinion on this decision.

"You know, if I hadn't," Merlin says, quickly, but he can already tell Arthur is well past listening, "th-that innkeeper, he would have strung us both up."

"I fail to see the downside," Arthur says harshly—which feels, just now, tremendously unfair, so Merlin fires back with the first thing he can think of.

"You said he should be given anything he needs."

"Four dozen pickled eggs?" Arthur wails, incredulously.

Merlin squeezes his eyes shut and swallows back a wince. "I'm sorry," he says and, before he can stop himself, before he can really think about it, before he can tell himself to shut up, to have some sense, to stop making absurd and impulsive promises he knows he can't possibly keep, he adds, "I'll pay for it."

Arthur sits up in his chair and flings the paper back down on the desk with another soft rustle. "You most certainly will."

Well, on the bright side, Merlin has to admit, it could be far worse than a few hundred pairs of filthy boots.

Gwaine disagrees. "Arthur is a thoroughbred little braggart."

Merlin has to swallow back a laugh—if only his head didn't hurt so much, he's sure he wouldn't mind the work at all, now he's got Gwaine here to crack his usual jokes. "Why?"

Gwaine peers down at the boot in his lap like he thinks the tough, cracked leather will tell him what he's supposed to do with it. Hasn't he ever cleaned his own boots? "For making us do this."

Merlin shrugs—it's easy work, even if it is, admittedly, a touch tedious, certainly repetitive, and hopelessly mundane, and it's a far lighter load than he expected in the face of Arthur's fury this morning. "I think it's fair."

Gwaine throws him an incredulous look and jabs a finger at the endless line of grimy boots stretched out ahead of them. "For the entire army?"

Merlin clicks his tongue. "If you admitted your father was a knight, you wouldn't have to."

Gwaine tosses his head to get his shaggy hair out of his eyes. "Maybe," he concedes with a little huff, "but I'm not making the same mistakes that he did." He runs the brush lightly over the boot—oh, so he does know how to do it, and thank God, Merlin thought he really might have to teach the poor man—and a bit of dried mud crumbles off and floats down to the wood floor below.

Merlin turns back to his own work without a word—he's not going to push it—and the quiet swish of the soft brush on the dirty leather is a faint but familiar music to his ears.

"How's your head?" Gwaine asks, finally, with a quick glance over at Merlin. "Looks pretty bad to me."

"It's fine," Merlin says, and he's not sure what shuts him up, what holds him back, what makes him say it's fine when he's almost certain he's never felt less fine in his life, but there's simply nothing else for it—he has to be here for Arthur until the melee is over, so there's no point in whining or moaning about it when he's got no choice but to grit his teeth and get on with it, anyway. "I'm fine."

Merlin isn't sure what makes him pull back the red silken cloth on the table—he's only here to take the dinner plates back to the kitchens—but he pulls back the cloth, and the glint of the swords beneath fascinates him, in a way swords have never fascinated him before. The cold gleam of steel is murder on his throbbing head, but it's like he can't look away, and before he knows it, he's picked them up, the hilts cool and heavy in his hands, and he stares and he stares and he stares.

He's not sure what's wrong with him. It feels like his mind is moving too slowly, all of a sudden, like a hand has ripped his skull open, and poured thick, sticky syrup inside, gumming up his brain until he can't think straight, until he can hardly think at all, and it takes him far too long to remember he's only here to pick up the dirty plates, he shouldn't be playing with the swords, he has to put them down and get on with it and—

—and the blunt blade slips, and cuts him, much deeper than a blunt blade should.

He stares at the blood on the tip of his finger, bright and thick and red—

"What are you doing with that, boy?"

He whirls around—he knows he shouldn't, he knows it will only make his head hurt, and it makes him look guilty besides, like he's doing something he shouldn't, like he's doing something he knows he shouldn't— "Uh," the sword slips from his slack fingers, and he presses his bleeding hand, on reflex, into his chest, so the knights can't see the cut, but—but why's it is so important that the knights can't see—? "I-I was just tidying—"

"Keep away from things that don't concern you," Sir Oswald snaps, sharp and cold as the sword at Merlin's feet, and his eyes like ice as he glares, and for the first time since he met the man, Merlin feels the tiniest thrill of fear.

He gathers up the plates, and he leaves, and he's much happier than he should be, to get away from Sir Oswald.

Merlin tells Gaius about the sword.

It takes him the entire walk down to the kitchens, and the entire walk back to his chamber, to work out what the knights want with blunted-sharp blades, and that feels unbelievably, embarrassingly long, and he's sure if this horrible headache would just go away, he could think much clearer, he's sure if he could just stop stumbling and tripping, if the world would stop tilting, if those white stars would stop popping—

So Merlin tells Gaius about the sword—or, he means to tell Gaius about the sword, but the minute the old man sees him, he lets out a little gasp, steers him over to the nearest cot, and pushes him down onto it, and Merlin is far too tired to fight him on it.

"What happened to your head?" Gaius demands at once.

Oh. Oh, that's right, isn't it, Gaius hasn't seen him in days—the old man is always out when he gets home at night, and he's just too tired lately to wait up the way he usually does. He rubs lightly at his temple, where the pain burns hottest, with a little wince, before he forces himself to shake his head, to shove it down. "It's nothing," he says, and he tries to sound firm about it, too, but his voice sounds slow and slurred and small in his ears, "it's nothing, I'm fine—listen, I was in Sir Oswald's chambers just now, and I—"

"Merlin," Gaius says sharply, "what's happened to your head?"

"Yeah, I'm no physician," Gwaine tosses out, from his spot on the bottommost step in the dark, narrow stairway, "but you really don't look so good, mate, you should get yourself checked over."

Merlin throws him a glare.

Gwaine stares back, entirely unrepentant.

Gaius raises his brow.

"Okay, fine, I-I hit my head," Merlin concedes, because he knows he can steer the talk back around to the sword much quicker if he gives a bit of ground here, "in that fight in the tavern, but it's not important, it doesn't matter—I have something to tell—"

"The fight in the tavern?" Gaius echoes, like he hasn't heard about that already, like Merlin and Arthur didn't fill him in when they brought Gwaine to him, except they did. "Merlin, that was days ago!"

"It's fine," Merlin says, again, except he sounds worse than ever, weak and wavery, and he balls his hands up in fists on his knees so Gaius won't see he's shaking, "it's not a big deal, it doesn't matter, it'll heal up soon, I'm sure the chair didn't even hit me that—"

"The chair?" Gaius' brow has never jumped so high so fast.

"The chair?" Gwaine squawks and leaps up off the stairs.

Merlin realizes far too late that he's said far too much. "It doesn't matter, it was just—" he shakes his head, "—some madman chucked a chair at me, all right, but some other madman is going to—"

"A chair?" Gaius says, again, his pale eyes very wide. "Merlin, you could have died from a blow like that! Why didn't you come to me and—?"

"Please, Gaius!" Merlin blinks against the sudden burn of furious tears behind his eyes. "Please, listen to me, this is important. Sir Oswald's using a trick sword! He means to murder Arthur in the melee!"

And Merlin has never, ever been more grateful for the old man in his entire life, because Gaius listens. He sits up, a bit straighter, on his stool, and he drops his withered white hand back into his lap—out of the corner of his eye, Merlin can see Gwaine edging a bit nearer—

"All right," Gaius says at last. "All right, Merlin. Tell me everything. But let me have a look at your head while you're here."

Oh, thank God. Merlin drags in a shaky little breath of relief, and hastily gabbles it all out as quickly as he can. "H-He's got a sword in his chambers, and to the eye, it appeared—" it takes him too long to come up with the word, because thinking too hard makes his head pound, "—blunt—but when I touched it…" he holds up his bleeding finger for Gaius to see.

The old man clicks his tongue. Like it's Merlin's fault he thought a blunt sword wouldn't cut him.

"Trick sword?" Gwaine frowns. "Then you were lucky it was just your hand. I've seen those blades in action. They're forged using sorcery."

Gaius lets go of Merlin's hand and stands up to prod at his bruised head again instead. "But what would they want with such a blade?"

"To kill Arthur," Merlin says, because it's obvious, now that he's finally realized it. "In the melee."

"But in front of all those people?" Gaius says, doubtfully, his brows pinched, and he presses his finger lightly to Merlin's temple.

"—perfect cover—" Gwaine's voice, quiet and loud and quiet again, rings suddenly through the room, "—nobody will suspect—"

"I-I need to warn Arthur," Merlin pulls back from Gaius' touch with a little wince, and hegets up, but he is so dizzy, and so tired, that the minute he's on his feet, he crashes right back down to the cot in mere moments.

"Not so fast, Merlin," Gaius says grimly, like Merlin was making any great leaps and bounds to the door, "—bad shape—no fit state to—"

"—I-I've got to!" Merlin tries to stand up again, but it's so hard, and his head feels so heavy— "—I've got to—I've got to tell Arthur—"

"Sir Oswald's a knight—from a well-respected family—" Gaius says, "—good friend to Arthur—can't accuse him without proof—"

"—then—" a sudden shock of pain pulses through his head, and Merlin rubs at his brow, "—then I need to—to get the sword from Sir Oswald—"

"No, Merlin, absolutely not—completely ridiculous—no fit state, as I said—a chair to the head, and you still—foolish boy—" Gaius' voice goes quiet and loud and quiet again, too, like Merlin's slipping in and out of deep, dark water, over and under the rolling black tide of pain.

"I'll get it," Gwaine says, suddenly. "I'll get it, Gaius."

And the last thing Merlin hears—before the stars flare up in front of his eyes again, big bright bursts, radiant and blinding and almost beautiful, before he slumps down sideways onto the cot, and passes out—is the quiet creak of Gaius' door, and the thud of Gwaine's boots as he leaves the room.

Merlin wakes up slowly.

The room is dark. The windows are shut, the curtains pulled tight over the dirty glass, and the candles on the table burn low.

It's cold. Gaius has taken his jacket from him while he slept—he can see the rough brown cloth flung over the back of the nearest chair—and his shirt is wrinkled from where he slept on it. He's not sure he wants to go to all the hassle of straightening it.

He still feels funny—fuzzy and bleary, like he's lost in a thick fog, like he's looking out at the world through dirty glass, like he's looking out at the world through a dark veil—but there's only the barest ache at the back of his skull, and when he opens his eyes, the room only slopes a little to the left.

He's still so exhausted, and he already wants to go back to sleep, but he can't go back to sleep—he's supposed to be with Arthur right now, or he's supposed to be doing something for Arthur, isn't he? Isn't that right? Hasn't he got something to do for Arthur? Hasn't he got something really important to do for Arthur? Isn't there something really bad he can't let happen to Arthur—?

It hits him in a cold shock of ice, and he bolts upright in the bed. "Sir Oswald."

"Merlin!" And, all of a sudden, out of the blue, utterly inexplicably, Arthur is there, his hands on Merlin's wrists, gentle but firm, his brow pinched, his face pale. "For God's sake, you idiot, lie back—!"

"S-Sir Oswald," Merlin gasps, breathless, frantic, "he's got a—a sword, and it—it looks blunt, but it's actually—"

"Merlin," Arthur says, sharper now, and he shoves Merlin back down to the bed, hard, "for God's sake, stop being an imbecile. Everything's all right, Gwaine showed me the sword, Sir Oswald's been dealt with."

Merlin almost doesn't believe it, but he can't think what would make Arthur lie to him, either. "H-Has he?"

"Yes." Arthur's blue eyes darken. "And it wasn't Sir Oswald. It was that thug from the tavern, Dagger."

"Oh." Merlin slumps down a little deeper into the pillows—now that he knows Arthur's not in danger, he's sorely tempted to go back to sleep again.

"Wonder if Dagger was the one," Arthur says, in that casual sort of voice that means he's actually seething with sheer rage, "who threw a chair at your head in the fight."

There it is.

Merlin winces. "Look, Arthur, I—"

"You know, there's one thing I'm a bit curious about," Arthur cuts him off, talking deliberately louder than he needs to. "Are you really stupid enough to think you can take a chair to the face and just walk 'round like nothing happened?"

Merlin flushes. "I thought I was all right, I-I felt all right—"

"You don't just take a chair to the face and feel all right!"

"Well, I did." Merlin feels he has to point this out, if only to see if it will finally shut Arthur up.

"Well, that's not normal!"

Apparently not. Merlin rolls his eyes. "What are you doing here, anyway? Haven't you got the melee to worry about?"

Arthur waves him off with an impatient little flick of his hand. "The melee's over."

"Over?" Merlin echoes incredulously, and he looks at once to the window, but it's still shut, and the only light in the room is the faint glow of the candles, so he whips back around to face Arthur. "H-How long have I been asleep?"

Arthur shrugs. "About five days. Give or take."

"Five days?"

"Well," Arthur says, in a rather sanctimonious sort of way, "that's what happens when you take a chair to the face and walk 'round like nothing—"

"Whatever," Merlin says, and it makes him feel sixteen all over again. "So," he adds, quickly, "so, the melee's over with, and Sir Oswald—Dagger," he corrects himself, "is gone?"

Arthur nods. "Dead. My father had them hanged for attempted treason and, once the life left them, the sorcery wore off, and their true faces were revealed."

"Right," Merlin says. It's rather hard to feel sorry for the brutes. "Right. Good." He nods, and he's surprised it doesn't make his head hurt. "How's Gwaine?"

The corner of Arthur's mouth ticks up in a small smile. "Highly offended. My father's just tried to give him a reward for his part in all this."

Merlin laughs. It's hard not to—he can already see Gwaine's outraged face in his mind. "He hasn't got much love for nobles."

"So I gathered," Arthur says peevishly.

"Well, you can't blame him," Merlin says fairly. "Hard to like nobles when they're all arrogant, supercilious prats—"

Arthur yanks one of the pillows out from behind Merlin's head and stuffs it in his face. "Shut up, Merlin."

The door creaks open and Gaius shuffles in. Merlin hastily peels the pillow away from his nose and mouth.

"Merlin!" Gaius tears the empty basket off his arm and tosses it onto the nearest chair before he hurries over to the bed. "You're awake!" He grabs Merlin's wrist to feel the pulse there. "Any pain? Nausea? Dizziness?"

"No," Merlin says, truthfully, "no, I'm fine."

Gaius' eyebrow creeps up an inch or so.

"Just tired," Merlin admits, a bit sullenly.

Gaius nods. "Right, then, that's good. Thank you for staying with him, Sire," he adds, over his shoulder to Arthur. "You may leave now."

"Of course, Gaius," Arthur nods and gets up on his feet, stretching his arms over his head. When the old man turns away to pull a few glass bottles down off a higher shelf, Arthur leans in and adds, in a low whisper, "Don't run into any more chairs while I'm gone. You really haven't got the brains to lose, you know."

And, with a light little pat to Merlin's shoulder, he's out the door.

#merlin #bbc merlin #fic #filled prompt #anonymous

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

Text

It’s Not That Bad, Right?

Prompt: Feel free to write this prompt (or not)- Merlin is cursed and turned into a dragon/wyvern. Arthur commands him to stay in the forest until they figure out how to change him back, but when Merlin senses that Arthur is in danger during a tournament in the City arena, he flies in front of everyone to rescue him, proving how willing he is to protect Arthur even if it means putting his life at the mercy of a shocked Camelot and angry Uther. Also Merlin breaths fire and is BAMF as a dragon.

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3 Part 2!

Pairings: Merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none. Merlin’s a little shit but what did we expect

Word Count: 3511

Okay, Merlin’s gonna take the blame this time. This one’s on him. Definitely. No two ways about it. He’s big enough to admit he screwed up. He is! This one’s definitely on him. Absolutely not a question about it.

In his defense, what was he supposed to do when he saw a sorcerer with a magic circle around a dragon’s egg chanting ominously as a bunch of storm clouds formed overhead, not run into the middle and push it out?

Yeah, as if.

“Merlin!”

Well, it sure hurt like hell, that’s for damn sure. Merlin can feel his teeth chattering against themselves as energy courses through his body, into through his fingertips and out through the top of his head, sending bolts into the ground, through his legs, through his chest. Something reaches deep beneath him and pulls, stretching him like putty. His throat screams in a soundless roar until he registers that, oh wait, that deafening noise is coming from him. Huh.

“M-Merlin?”

Why does Arthur sound unsure? Merlin’s fine. Merlin’s so fine right now. Everything is so fine and good right now, what’s wrong? Merlin turns around to say that, yeah, it’s alright, prat, he’s fine, no need to sound so nervous, only his head seems really really heavy right now and since when has his neck been that long?

“Sire, stay back! I don’t know what’s happened!”

“Stay low to the ground.”

“One of these buggers wasn’t enough, huh?”

Oh, are there more sorcerers? Merlin turns his—why the hell is his head so heavy?—head to look, scanning the trees for more sorcerers.

…that’s funny, why is he suddenly higher? And where are his arms? Or his legs? Or…

…oh, bollocks.

Merlin sighs, only to realize that hey, you guys remember that dragons can breathe fire, right?

“Get back!” Oh, there’s Leon. Merlin wondered where he got off to. “I don’t know where you come from, beast, but you must leave immediately.”

“Beast,” Merlin mutters, “how rude.”

It’s worth it for the way Leon’s arm drops dead to his side. The knight’s mouth gapes up at him. “Merlin?”

Merlin’s gotta get used to this freaking head. He looks around at himself, tests his four feet—claws? Paws? He doesn’t know—and flaps his wings experimentally. “Pretty sure. Just, er, a little different?”

“A little different, he says,” Gwaine mutters from Arthur’s other side, “Merlin what the hell have you done now?”

“I think,” Merlin says, testing out the words in his new mouth—so many teeth—“I’ve been turned into a dragon.”

“Stellar observations there.”

“How is this possible,” Lancelot murmurs, the only one of the knights who dares step closer, close enough to rest his hand on Merlin’s flank. Wow, he’s tiny. “Merlin, did—did you do this?”

“Why would I do this?”

“You are dramatic,” Lancelot says, winking up at him.

“Hey!”

“He’s not wrong.”

“Thanks, Gwaine.”

“Alright, alright.” Arthur sways on his feet, looking every bit about to faint, except he grits his teeth and puts his sword decidedly at his side. “Merlin’s a dragon. Sure.”

“In the flesh!”

“I think you mean in the scale,” Elyan adds helpfully.

Arthur glares at him, only to glance around and see Lancelot happily petting Merlin’s scales, Leon looking him over like he does the new armor, and Gwaine sauntering over to a stump and sitting down. He cocks his head and looks at Merlin, before shrugging and pulling out a waterskin. Even Percival and Elyan look a little nonplussed.

“Are all of you just—fine with this?”

Gwaine shrugs. “Hardly the weirdest thing to ever happen to us, is it?”

“Merlin is a dragon!”

“And not too long ago Gaius was possessed by a goblin.”

“Don’t forget the manticore,” Percival supplies.

“Oh,” Lancelot calls, “and the immortal army!”

“And,” Leon says, “let us also not forget, Sire, that Uther once was married to a troll.”

“Wait, he was what?” Gwaine leaps up indignantly. “Why have you not told us this story?”

“Enough!”

Merlin doesn’t sigh, but he does exhale noisily through his nostrils. While Arthur prattles on about respecting the king or some such nonsense that he’s sure only Leon is really listening to—and then it’s only out of politeness and because he’s heard it a thousand times—Merlin fidgets.

Scales itch, did you know that? It feels like he’s wearing scratchy clothes that don’t fit right on his skin. He huffs, trying to keep the smoke to a minimum, scrubbing his legs and arms along the ground to try and get some relief. When it doesn’t work, he flops his head down with a resounding thump, out of the way of any of the knights. Wow, his head is the size of Lancelot.

Lancelot, of course, because this man is the definition of unflappable unless it comes to Gwen, simply smiles and reaches out to gently stroke the ridge between Merlin’s eyes. Merlin rumbles gratefully and nudges Lancelot with the tip of his nose.

“Right there, hmm?” Lancelot pats him a few more times.

“He’s not a horse, Lancelot,” Leon says with a smile.

“No, he’s a dragon.”

“He is sitting right here,” Merlin grumbles, “thank you very much.”

“So you can still talk.” Gwaine downs the waterskin and saunters over. “Can you fly?”

Percival glances at his back. “He’s got wings, doesn’t he?”

“Can we ride him?”

“Gwaine!”

“What? You lot were thinking it too!”

“I’m going mad,” Merlin hears Arthur say faintly, “I’m going mad because my manservant is a dragon and none of my knights seem to care.”

“Oh, we care,” Gwaine says, “this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while.”

“Merlin appears to have his wits about him still,” Leon murmurs in an effort to soothe Arthur’s nerves which, honestly, Merlin’s a dragon, so that’s fair, “and I do not believe Merlin is likely to attack us.”

“Merlin trips over his own two feet when he’s only got two and he’s the size of a string bean,” Arthur mutters, not taking his eyes off of him.

“Oi!”

“It’s true and you know it.”

Merlin hides a smile, partly because he doesn’t want Arthur to see he’s happy, and partly because he has no idea what dragon smiles look like. Kilgharrah didn’t really smile. But the banter seems to have calmed Arthur down a little, at least enough to walk up to Merlin and look at him. Properly.

Merlin lifts his head, just so they’re eye level, and waits.

Arthur hesitantly reaches a hand out.

Merlin holds his breath.

Arthur’s hand clenches into a fist and he turns away.

“We’ll have to find a way to fix this,” Arthur mutters, stalking back toward his horse. “Back to Camelot. We speak of this to no one except Gaius.”

“You just want to leave him here?”

“If we brought a dragon back to Camelot, my father would have all of our heads. And Merlin would be killed. Or chained up.” Arthur shakes his head firmly, already back on his horse. “We tell no one.”

“So what do we do then,” Gwaine yells, “just abandon him out here?”

“He’s a dragon,” Arthur says, “I’m sure he can fend for himself.”

Something pinches inside Merlin’s chest as Arthur turns away. He growls, ignoring Lancelot’s concerned look as he straightens, his head turning to look down at his massive chest. It aches, like something in him is reaching for the end of a rubber band that just won’t snap back.

“Merlin?”

“I’m fine,” he manages, testing out his body again. He’s definitely not used to having six limbs, let alone wings. “I’ll figure it out.”

“We will find a way to change you back, old friend,” Leon promises, “you will not be stuck like this forever.”

“Might not be the worst thing in the world to be stuck as.”

“All the same, we will try.”

“Thanks, Leon.”

Leon nods deeply, mounting his horse and setting off after Arthur. The other knights do the same, each bidding Merlin farewell. Lancelot is the last to leave.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay?”

As tempting as it is, Merlin shakes his massive head. “You might get hurt. And Camelot might, er—“

“Since when have I listened to Camelot over listening to you?”

In response, Merlin nudges him—gently!—with his nose back over to his horse.

“Alright, alright,” Lancelot laughs, “I’m going.”

Still, Merlin can’t help the dull ache of loneliness from settling in his chest as Lancelot disappears into the trees. He looks around. This clearing is nice. It’s just large enough to fit him comfortably. He can lie down—which he does—and curl up with his tail tucked around his legs. He has a tail, does that mean he has seven limbs now? Does a tail count as a limb?

Oh, the ground feels really nice on his sides. Can he—he can roll to his other side too. Oh yeah, that’s fun.

Merlin spends several minutes just rolling around on the ground, letting his wings splay out a little and flap to the sides, stirring up little storms of dust and dirt. He ends up on his back, his wings splayed out, looking up at the dark sky. His eyes drift closed and he rumbles happily.

He isn’t sure how much time passes but his wings are starting to get a little sore. He grunts and rolls.

…only to rock right back.

He tries again. No luck.

Maybe if he flaps his wings, he can—nope. The other side maybe? Oh, nope. Nope, that’s not it either.

He’s stuck.

How undignified. Good thing there’s no one around to—

“Young warlock?”

“No,” Merlin groans, shutting his eyes and instinctively going to cover his face only to remember that he’s got dragon legs and that’s not going to work. “Go away.”

“No, young warlock,” comes the voice that is definitely laughing at him, “I don’t think I will.”

Merlin opens his eyes. Sure enough, there’s Kilgharrah, who looks way too happy. Merlin gives up and lets his limbs hang uselessly. “I’m stuck.”

“I can see that.”

“…how do I get unstuck?”

“You roll, young warlock.”

“I’ve tried that!”

“Well, then you must not’ve tried hard enough.”

Trying to roll over and failing miserably in front of the Great Dragon is possibly one of the most humiliating things you can do. Especially when you’re exerting yourself because you’ve never had a dragon body before and you’re making all sorts of embarrassing grunts and squeals. Merlin doesn’t recommend it.

Eventually, Merlin stops, panting and looking back at Kilgharrah who looks all too pleased with himself. “Are you just going to stand there?”

“Did you need something?”

“Help me!”

“All you had to do was ask, young warlock.”

Merlin wisely bites back the many insults on his tongue and rolls again. This time, Kilgharrah sticks his nose under the flap of Merlin’s wing and pushes him over with a graceless thump. Merlin shakes himself.

“Thanks.”

“But of course. You know I live to serve you.”

“Have you gotten more sarcastic or have we not spoken in a while?”

“That is an answer you must seek for yourself.”

“You’re still as vague, good, I was beginning to think you were some other dragon.”

“There are no other dragons,” Kilgharrah says softly, suddenly growing serious, “at least…there were no other dragons.”

He inclines his head, moving with a grace that shows unlike Merlin, Kilgharrah understands his body.

“What happened, Merlin?”

Merlin explains.

“That was very brave, young warlock.”

“You can say stupid.”

“That was very stupid, Merlin.”

“Yeah, well.” Merlin kicks a rock next to him. “What else is new?”

“I must say,” Kilgharrah muses, looking him over, “you are not an unhealthy dragon.”

“That is…a compliment? I think?”

“Well, typically when it comes to anamorphic magic, it does not perform…nearly this successfully.” Kilgharrah nudges Merlin’s wing with the tip of his snout. “I suspect it is because you are magic that you have transformed so completely.”

“And also why I’m still able to talk?”

“Precisely.”

“Great.” Merlin snuffles a little. Wow, he can smell a whole lot more. “So how do we fix it?”

“Unfortunately, anamorphic magic is…temperamental.”

“Okay, so I can still speak normally, which means it’s not a dragon thing to speak in vague stupid cryptic sentences. Speak normally.”

“Your tongue is still as sharp as ever.”

“Well, now that I’m not a tiny human anymore—“

“Most humans are tiny.”

“Kilgharrah.”

Kilgharrah sighs. Ooh, he’s gotta show Merlin how to do that so he can still sigh. He misses that. “It will take time. From what you described, the spell was not completed, which means it will only last as long as the magic holds.”

“And how long is that?”

“Perhaps until the next full moon.” That’s only a week and a bit away. That’s not so bad.

“So what do I do until then?”

“You never did learn how to hunt with Arthur, did you?”

If you told Merlin he would be spending a week with Kilgharrah learning how to be a dragon and actually enjoying himself while doing it, he would have laughed, slammed the door in your face, and muttered some spell to make you trip as you walked away.

And yet, here we are.

Merlin does always insist that they stay close to the clearing. If someone comes back, he doesn’t want them to worry. Kilgharrah just shakes his head and tosses him another deer. Merlin can sigh now! That’s nice. His body doesn’t feel so itchy all the time either. His head doesn’t feel like a ridiculous weight anymore. His wings feel right. It’s not bad, this whole being-a-dragon business.

There’s still something wrong though.

That pain he had in his chest when the knights first left hasn’t gone away. It feels like he’s missing something. Sometimes when he lies down he rests his head on the ground too, tries to press his chest to the earth as much as possible. See if there’s something he can slot back into place. Nothing ever works.

Kilgharrah, for once, isn’t being cryptic when he says he genuinely doesn’t know what’s wrong. But he does rest his head on Merlin’s back. That feels nice and warm.

He doesn’t trust himself enough to try and breathe fire.

Two days before the spell is supposed to wear off, the pain spikes. In an instant, Merlin crumbles to the ground and whines. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

“Merlin,” Kilgharrah rumbles, at his side in an instant, “Merlin, what is wrong?”

“M-my chest, I can’t, I—it hurts—“

“Where is it coming from, young warlock?”

“I just told you—!”

“No,” Kilgharrah says sharply, “where?”

Merlin opens his mouth to snap back when he feels a line in his chest yank taut.

Oh.

With two flaps of his wings, Merlin is airborne. The line pulls him over the trees, out of the forest, toward the castle in the distance. Camelot.

Arthur.

Of bloody course it’s Arthur. What else could it be? As he flies, Merlin racks his brain trying to think of what’s happening, what could be hurting Arthur, what’s going on—

Right. There’s a bloody tournament going on.

What is it about tournaments that make every single magic-user with a grudge against Uther come out of the woodwork?

…well…

There’s the arena. People are fleeing in droves. Merlin tucks his wings and dives, thankful to the lessons Kilgharrah gave him. He spots Arthur, he spots Uther—

He spots a wave of soldiers in black armor surrounding Arthur on all sides. Their blades gleam in the light. Magic crackles around them. Arthur is bleeding.

Not on his watch.

Merlin opens his mouth.

A dozen soldiers melt away like dew as he bathes them in fire, the black armor vanishing. Another dozen vanish as torrents of flame spill from his throat, mouth open in a righteous scream. Arthur whirls around to look. His cry of surprise is lost in the roar of the dragon’s wings. Uther’s face is pale. Another jet of fire incinerates the knights as Merlin lands with a thud in front of Arthur.

A knight charges him. Merlin whips his tail around and swipes four of them off their feet. Another one launches a spear at him and lodges itself in his wing. Merlin cries out and lunges forward. The armor tastes salty. The other knight is torched before he has a chance to throw the spear.

At his side, Arthur seems to snap out of his stupor, brandishing his sword and fighting off one of the last remaining knights. Merlin gets his snout underneath another and throws him into the distance. He swings his head around like a hammer and slams two more into the arena wall.

The last one—well, he just screams at the last one.

It seems to do the trick; the armor falls apart in a series of heavy clanks.

Merlin stops, panting heavily. There’s still a spear lodged in his side and it burns. Arthur is safe. That’s all that matters. Arthur is safe.

“…Merlin?”

Merlin turns his head, his head hanging low. Arthur stands there, covered in blood, but alive, and holds out his hand.

Merlin lays his head on the ground and closes his eyes.

Arthur reaches out.

A soft glove lands on Merlin’s cheek. Rubs his scales softy. Merlin purrs.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear, “welcome back.”

“Kill it!”

Ah, yes, right. Uther.

“No!”

Arthur’s cry forces Merlin’s eyes open, spotting Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Percival, Elyan, all writing spears and javelins away from other knights. A sharp pain comes from his side and he turns to see Arthur trying to pull the spear out. He has to brace his foot against Merlin’s side to get out. Arthur tosses it away and holds his hand over the wound. Thankfully it seems like it just lodged in between two scales, Merlin’s not bleeding too much.

“Father,” Arthur pants, “Father we can’t kill it.”

“It’s a dragon, Arthur!”

“And it just saved our lives!”

“It’s nothing but a beast,” Uther snarls, seemingly regaining some of his composure as he spews his hateful speech from his comfortable box, “mindless and hungry. It will kill us all!”

“Does it look like it’s about to kill us?”

No, no it most certainly does not, thank you very much.

Arthur glances between the two of them, before leaning in close to Merlin.

“Fly back to the clearing, we’ll meet you there.”

Merlin turns his head. Arthur stares at him insistently.

“Go!”

He takes off, hearing Arthur’s long, fake cries about how they will chase after him, slay him, for the good of Camelot. He smiles and lands in the clearing. Kilgharrah is gone. Well, that’s kind of to be expected, isn’t it? He thinks a message of gratitude, hoping it will reach him, wherever he is. He doesn’t get a verbal reply, but a warm spark of magic spreads over his damaged scales and he smiles.

Sure enough, the knights crash through the brush a few moments later, Arthur scrambling off his horse and up to Merlin.

“You,” he says, grinning breathlessly, “are an idiot.”

“Idiot dragon,” Merlin corrects, “who just saved your arse.”

“That was so cool,” Gwaine crows, “you—“

“Yes, yes,” Percival mutters, “you’ve been saying that since we left.”

“They’re a bit excited, Merlin,” Lancelot chuckles, “forgive them.”

“…it is pretty cool,” Merlin admits.

“Are you hurt?” Arthur glances over at his side. “You were hit.”

“I think it’s healed up pretty well.”

“We, er, weren’t able to find a way to fix you.”

“I think it’ll wear off by the next full moon.”

“How would you know?”

Merlin gives Arthur a look that’s definitely just a rip off of Kilgharrah’s. “I know many things, young king.”

“You stop that right now.”

“So,” Elyan muses, “two days?”

Merlin nods.

“Camping trip, boys!”

Gwaine’s holler makes the rest of them laugh and they quickly go about setting up camp. Merlin bows his head to carefully light the fire as the knights make themselves comfortable. It’s not so bad, actually, out here in the clearing with them. Arthur leaning up against his chest, Lancelot by his side. Leon tosses him a large chunk of meat as Percival watches. Elyan double-checks his side and pronounces him all clear.

Yeah. Being a dragon isn’t so bad.

“I get a ride before you turn back, right?”

“Gwaine!”

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #merthur fic #arthur 'disaster bi' pendragon #dragonbabbles #fic

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merlin-emrys-wyllt · 2 years ago

Text

Arthur chuckles, "that's actually a good idea Gwaine, I may have to do just that". Gwaine grins and ruffles Merlin's hair, "aw it's okay, he knows I love him, don't you Merlin?" Merlin sighs, "that is debatable". He then turns to glare at Arthur, "don't you dare!" Arthur smirks, "and what are you going to do about it?"

"You have no idea what I am capable of". Arthur snorts and gives him a poke, "you're not really capable of much right now though, you've tied yourself out". Merlin grumbles and eats some more of his Risotto pretend huffing with the two of them. He gives Gwen a smile when she tries to defend him, "it's alright I'm used to it". He continues to eat while pretend huffing with the two.

Gwaine pouts at him, "aw c'mon Merl's don't be like that, you know I'm only teasing". He hated when the man was quiet, it was quite unnerving, and unnatural for Merlin. Arthur nods in agreement, "yeah, I'm not going to hit you... unless you really annoy me. It's not the same without your usual prattle". Merlin can't help but chuckle at that, as he looks over at Arthur, "promise you won't ever hit me and then we have a deal". Arthur shakes his head, "I can't do that!" Merlin sighs dramatically and says, "well I'm very sorry then, but I'm afraid i won't ever be able to talk again unless you agree".

Gwaine was happily grinning and watching the movie, while Lancelot chuckled, "yeah me too it's quite a good one". He knew Gwaine had a crush on atleast three of the characters from the movie. He turns to the man with a mischievous smirk, "so if you had to chose one person out of Jack, Elizabeth or Will, who would you chose?"

Gwaine gives him a mock offended look, "you can't make me chose one of them they're all so beautiful!" Lancelot chuckles and shakes his head, "you have to chose one". Gwaine sighs and leans his head back against the sofa, "okay Will I guess". Lancelot raises an eyebrow at that, "why Will?" Gwaine gives him a slight glare. "Well Jack is hot and cool and all but he's a bit of an idiot, Elizabeth is amazing but I'm more into men than women so I chose Will. He's also loyal and brave".

Arthur watches them with a curious look on his face and a smile, he wasn't exactly out to anyone, Uther had deterred him him from such a thing. He was blatantly homophobic, and it scared Arthur to death about being open. His closest friends probably suspected he wasn't straight, but he neither confirmed nor denied those suspicions. It was nice to see them both being so open.

Gwaine gives Lancelot a curious look, "what about you? Who would you chose, out of Will or Jack?" He knew that Lancelot wouldn't chose Elizabeth, due to him being gay in this lifetime. Lancelot pretends to mull the thought over and then replies, "probably Jack. He's an idiot, but he's hot, and I don't know I fond his stupidity apealing". He chuckles, both of them unaware that they had chosen characters that match each other. Arthur nods in agreement with Gwen, "yeah I'm quite hungry but I'd rather wait for the other two". Gwen shuffles over slightly to make room for Morgana to sit beside her.

Merlin had to search some more to find anything else that he would want to bring forward. He'd already brought quite a few things forward, he didn't want to bring too much and end up overwhelming him.

@indigoinformant

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halothenthehorns · 3 years ago

Text

BAGMAN AND CROUCH

As James started, he prayed to Merlin and anything else that this was the Quidditch chapter already, he'd waited long enough for it!

Harry had to unravel himself from Ron and his siblings, then looked around to find himself on the edge of a moor. In front of him were two oddly dressed wizards, one holding a watch, the other a long sheaf of parchment. Both had made an attempt at wearing Muggle garb, though both failed;

Remus already had a grin flickering on him, he loved hearing about wizards poor attempts to dress like Muggles.

The man with the watch wore a tweed suit with thigh-length galoshes;

Remus and Lily collectively snorted with amusement at that mental image, while James and Sirius exchanged curious looks, but decided they didn't really want to know what a galosh was. It sounded like some noise one of Hagrid's pets would make.

his colleague, a kilt and a poncho.

Lily lost it, and had to press her hand firmly to her mouth to suppress her giggles.

Harry and Remus weren't much better, and this time Sirius did ask, "Which one of those is wrong?" He may know a fair bit about Muggle technology and some of their other things through his Muggle Studies class, but they hadn't gone into great detail about dressing. Mostly, they just wore blue jean material but he wasn't certain why.

"Both," Harry managed to choke out, only having managed to restrain himself back then because he and Hermione had been the only ones to get the joke, and they hadn't wanted to make the wizards feel bad.

Arthur greeted the man with the list by the name of Basil

"Does Arthur just know everybody?" Remus asked, only half intelligible since he was still laughing. "I've yet to see him meet anyone he doesn't know the name of."

"I consider this a good thing," James shrugged back.

while picking up their portkey and handing it over. It was tossed into a bin full of other seeming junk, such as a punctured football.

Basil greeted Arthur back, noting that he wasn't on duty, and how lucky he was. The two of them had been at this post all night, then he ushered that they should move along, they had a huge party coming in next. He consulted his list, found the Weasley name, and told them to go seek out Mr. Robert's for their campsite.

Harry strangely felt a wash of sympathy at the mention of that name, which was puzzling since he had no real feelings towards the actual man. Still put off by the last time he'd dug into a name, he didn't press at it.

The Diggory's were sent in a separate direction, so Harry's group wandered off, coming across a Muggle stationed at the crest of a hill.

Harry's feeling of concern only increased, but it only managed to confuse him all the more. Why would he be worried for a Muggle? Why would he be getting worried at all?

"Oh, I guess he owns the campsite then," Sirius said in surprise.

"That poor thing," Lily sighed.

"Why?" James asked at once, feeling that was a bit harsh, wizards weren't that bad around Muggles.

"I can only imagine how confused he must be, wizards aren't very subtle at hiding themselves," she smirked at her husband, who clearly wanted to argue back, but at a loss as to how, he was aware he was pretty bad and he knew plenty of people, like his wife, who tried to correct him on it all the time.

They greeted each other politely enough, and Arthur told his name and that he'd booked two tents here a few days ago. Mr. Robert's agreed, then asked if they'd be paying for it now? Mr. Weasley agreed, then pulled Harry aside to help him with the Muggle money he'd brought along for this. He correctly identified a ten pound note, then glanced at the next one, saying this was a five? Harry corrected it was a twenty.

"Where did he get a five from?" Remus asked. "There's a twenty on the note, and he got the ten right."

"I guess the pound symbol looks like a five to him," Lily offered with a shrug, not really sure how he could make the mistake herself, as she found Muggle money far easier to understand then the wizard money that had taken her quite some time to work out.*

They returned to Mr. Roberts watching them wearily, asking if they were foreign?

"I'm not surprised that's his first guess," Lily nodded.

Mr. Weasley was confused by the question, so Mr. Roberts elaborated that he wasn't the first person to be confused by the currency, two others had tried to pay him in giant gold coins.

James couldn't help a little smile though, at least he wasn't the only one who'd try to do that first in hopes it would work.

Mr. Robert's continued on in a vague tone now about how strange it was of people pre-booking to come, most just showed up.

"Yes, well, there's a very big event going on this weekend," Sirius said with a completely straight face.

"That's cause for a little oddity." James agreed.

He kept going on about how weird some of these people were, running around in kilt's and ponchos.

Lily, Remus, and Harry began snickering all over again, but this time James just ignored them.

Arthur was getting anxious now as he tried to get his change and leave, but Mr. Robert was still prattling on about how all of these odd people seemed to know each other, like they were all here for some party. Then another wizard in plus-fours apparated right in front of them.

Remus sighed in pity, thinking it was an accidental apparition, and one more thing poor Mr. Robert's would try to analyze. The man's brain would turn to mush by the day's end if this kept up.

He quickly shot the spell Obliviate at Mr. Roberts.

"Or he could do that," Lily yelped in mild surprise.

"He was pretty fast on the draw," Sirius nodded in agreement.

Mr. Robert's face instantly glazed over, an unconcerned smile now floating onto his face, and Harry recognized all of the symptoms of someone who'd recently had their memory modified.

Which gave them all a bit of a dark laugh, for the first time wondering if Lockhart had ever recovered from that mishap, but none of them able to care too much.

Mr. Robert's finally handed over Mr. Weasley's change, along with a map of the camp, and bid them good day. The wizard in plus-fours accompanied them out of earshot, muttering about how that was the tenth time he'd had to do that today.

"Oh dear," Lily squeaked in real fear this time. "That cannot be good for him."

"You'd really think they'd have someone with some muggle knowledge at least around where Mr. Robert's is working, try to keep these people under control at least in front of him so that wouldn't be necessary," Remus agreed with a pitiful frown.

"Would that give him, like permanent brain damage or something?" Harry frowned in sympathy for the poor muggle, deciding those memory charms on him was probably where his memory gap on this man stemmed from.

"I don't think so..." Sirius' tone showed he really didn't even mean that, "But I can't say it's a tested theory either."

"I'm sure he's fine," James couldn't stop a little frown of his own, but he tried to keep up the confidence. "They won't do anything permanent to him." No one could think of anything else to say though, so he decided to keep going and hope this man explaining things would say just that.

Ludo Bagman wasn't helping anyone,

"Ludo Bagman's running around there!" Sirius practically screamed, leaning over like he wanted to snatch the book away from James, who held it tightly to his chest now and glared at his hand like he'd bite if he came closer.

Sirius turned his attention on Harry instead, begging, "Please tell me you meet him! I'll take even a passing glance!"

Harry's shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter, but what flowed out of his mouth was a pure gut reaction he didn't have to much problems deciphering, "I've got a good feeling at least, yes."

Sirius looked likely to faint from happiness his little pup was meeting a Quidditch star, so Harry neglected telling him another sinking feeling he was getting about Bagman. He decided he didn't really like the man, something about him bothered Harry, but as always he had no clear idea what.

running around screaming about Bludgers and Quaffles, not even bothering with the anti-Muggle security. The man still talking couldn't wait for this whole mess to be over, then he bid good day to Arthur and disapparated.

"I feel so bad for the people who have to work during this," Remus sighed.

"You're right," James nodded along. "This should be a national holiday!"

Lily and Remus snorted at how much he clearly meant that, while James gave an agreeable smirk at Sirius when he agreed before he kept going.

Ginny turned to her dad in surprise, asking since Bagman was head of a department, shouldn't he know better then to be doing that? Arthur defended him by saying that he'd always been a lax man, but you couldn't ask for a more enthusiastic Head. He'd played Quidditch for England and was the best Beater for the Wimbourne Wasps yet.

"I wonder what year he retired," Sirius couldn't seem to stop himself from blurting out, though James in no way looked upset as he grinned at Sirius getting wound up about this. "What do you think his stats were like by then, better and he ended on a high, or slowly going down so he retired early? Who do you-"

"Sirius," Lily cut in, knowing he could go on like this for hours. "Please, you lot can talk about this over dinner and I won't say a word, but let him get through this first."

Sirius stuck his tongue out at her and crossed his arms in a pouting gesture, but bit his tongue as James kept going.

They made their way into the campsite, finding most normal looking tents, but a few standouts, such as one that housed a chimney, or one done up in pure silk with peacocks out front.

'Wonder if the Malfoy's showed up' Remus thought in surprise, knowing that was their preferred animal, and they'd do nothing less than the best even in tent form. He really hoped Harry didn't run across them though, really hoping for just a nice calm Quidditch filled weekend.

One even had three tents stacked on top of each other, complete with a sundial in front.

Lily had been giggling almost none stop for all of those descriptions, remembering her plans of taking the family camping, and just imagining James and Sirius trying to set all of that up as well, oh they were going to have so much fun.

Arthur was smiling as he passed all of this by, saying that it was common when Wizards got together they'd always try to show off.

"That's always true of communities," Sirius muttered, thinking it wasn't always a good thing either.

Then he spotted their place, right on the edge of the woods, with a small picket marking their spots, with the name Weasley misspelled as Weezly.

James couldn't help a little snort of surprise, then spelled out how Weasley had been misspelled, causing the others the same reaction. "How did they screw that up?" Harry demanded with an eye roll. "Mr. Weasley would have given them his name to mark the spot."

"Maybe he has bad handwriting," Sirius shrugged.

"Or it was someone's idea of a joke," Remus offered, thinking of the time he'd convinced most of Gryffindor house to call Sirius and James Brown and Pottam for the day.

Mr. Weasley couldn't be more excited, saying they'd gotten the best spot as the trail leading to the stadium started right next to them. Then he set himself of setting up the tent, with no magic allowed.

"Oh this should be fun," Lily smirked, already thinking of poor Arthur trying to work all of this out, though at least he'd probably get a kick out of it.

Harry had never been camping before, but he and Hermione worked out how the poles and pegs were to be set up. Mr. Weasley was more of a hindrance than a help, but not from lack of trying. He just tended to get overly excited when the time came to use the mallet.

"At least he's enjoying himself," Remus agreed with Lily, thinking of an over enthusiastic James and Sirius acting much the same way.

They finally managed to erect a pair of shabby two-man tents.

"He only brought two?" Harry asked in surprise, thinking that would hardly be enough space after doing a headcount.

James just gave him a knowing smile though, he had a very good idea that Arthur wasn't doing this all Muggle, but kept going to see if he was right.

Arthur ducked into one and called back they'd be a bit cramped, but they'd make it work. Harry exchanged a puzzled look with Hermione before they ducked in and their jaws dropped.

Something Harry did again now as he visibly remembered what he'd walked into, causing the four of them to give affectionate laughs, knowing they'd never get tired of watching him react to magic.

It was a miniature version of an apartment, complete with beds and a stove. Harry found it strangely reminded him of Mrs. Figg's place,

"That's probably just coincidence," Remus shrugged. "The Engorgement Charm placed on them would have reacted to the person who'd placed it. Though it might adapt to the person setting it up," he added on thoughtfully, never having considered the idea, but magic was known to change form.

"I think it's the second," Lily nodded in agreement. "It wouldn't be the first time I've heard magic acting like that."

as it smelled strongly of cats. Mr. Weasley explained he'd borrowed this from Perkins,

"Wasn't that the guy Mr. Weasley works with in his office?" Sirius puzzled. "Guess that means he's not coming to the game."

who used to go camping a lot until his lumbago got to him. Then he spotted an empty kettle, and said they'd need to find a place to collect water. Ron had ducked in behind them, saying he'd seen a spot for that on the map. He showed no reaction whatsoever at the interior being larger inside than out.

"Well of course he isn't," Harry sighed, now feeling slightly foolish for his surprise, of course Mr. Weasley would think ahead like that, though since Hermione had been thinking the same thing at the time at least he wasn't the only one.

Arthur asked Ron and his two friends to go fetch it while they stayed back and cooked up a fire.

"Even more fun," Sirius perked up, "I hope you get to roast some marshmallows!"

Ron asked why they'd need to do that as they had a stove, and Arthur said that they were supposed to be doing things as Muggles, and they cooked over fires at these campsites. The three departed, wandering through the endless sea of tents, and Harry was looking around with interest as it only just began occurring to him how many wizards there were in other countries.

Harry nodded to himself as these thoughts trickled back to him, wondering why he had a feeling his knowledge of the world of magic was fixing to expand quite a lot this year...something about Hogwarts, or maybe it was another wizarding school, did those even exist? Of course they did, he corrected himself, Hogwart's couldn't be the only one.

The camps with small children were already beginning to arouse, toddles seen crawling out of tents. They passed one of about two, who held a wand in his hand and was poking a slug, with each prod it grew larger until it was nearly the size of a loaf of bread.

Sirius gave the baby in his lap an affectionate little cuddle while Lily and James exchanged indulgent smiles, treasuring every moment they had with their toddler, and already trying to picture him when he got to that age.

As they drew level with him, his mother came hurrying out of the tent, telling off the infant, Kevin, for touching daddy's wand, and ending with a squeal of disgust.

"Tell daddy to stop leaving it around," Lily smirked, already picturing herself instead of that mother, Harry instead of little Kevin, James being thoroughly confused, then abundantly pleased, when he found out his son was engorging slugs with his wand.

She'd stepped on the slug, causing it to burst. The sound of her scolding her child faded as they walked past, along with the little boy's delight that his mommy had squashed his slug.

Causing all five of them to laugh merrily, that was a picture perfect moment.

Not too much farther away were two little girls gliding along on miniature brooms that barely rose a foot off the ground.

Sirius' eyes sparked with interest, he had already pre-ordered one of those for Harry for his first birthday, and couldn't wait to see his little pup gliding around this living room carpet on it.

A Ministry official had spotted them and came hurrying past the trio, muttering about how the parents were letting them do that where anyone could see, probably sleeping in.

"They are on vacation," James shrugged. "And I don't see why Mr. Robert's would come wandering into the campsite, give them a bit of a break."

Some adults were starting to come out as well, taking a quick look around, and then shooting a spell to create a fire before anyone could notice. Others were clearly tempted to do this soon, looking at a box of matches as if sure this couldn't be useful.

"Then I hope they all get a real surprise," Remus laughed.

Three African wizards sat in serious conversation,

"Wow, they're even talking about me in Africa," Sirius smirked, happy he was on the opposite side of Harry so none of his friends could take a swing at him.

all of them wearing long white robes and roasting what looked like a rabbit on a bright purple fire,

Harry blinked in surprise at the color, the question bursting out of him before he even had time to process, "Do other countries have to say the same spells in the same language as Hogwarts? Is that why the fire's a different color, because they translate them, or are they universal?"

Lily's eyes brightened as they always did whenever she had the opportunity to look into new things, starting out by voicing, "Well I know for a fact that saying the spell is just a way to channel magic, but the incantations themselves aren't set in stone. After all, accidental magic doesn't require a command word, it's simply your mind using your magic in an uncontrolled way. The wand and spells are designed to help you direct your powers, which makes your magic more focused and powerful." She only paused for a moment, thinking through her answer to make sure of it, before concluding, "So I would have to say no, other countries most likely do have a different system for their spell casting. Most of ours are in Latin, with some exceptions, but I presume these African folk for example have a different spell to create fire then our Incendio, creating the different color through their own phrasing of it."

Harry was watching her with wide eyed fascination, even James and Sirius looked pretty intrigued as they'd never thought too deeply about this, but when Remus made to jump in, that old light in his eyes saying he may even be creating a debate's worth of commentary on the subject, James quickly jumped in saying, "Alright, more fun things to discuss later. Sirius and I can go crazy badgering Harry about Quidditch stats he will hopefully remember, and you two can have a gay old time discussing that." This time Remus stuck his tongue out at his two friends, but didn't protest.

while a group of middle-aged American witches sat gossiping happily beneath a spangled banner stretched between their tents that read: THE SALEM WITCHES' INSTITUTE.

"What's that?" Harry asked quickly, for the first time trying to get information about other wizard schools other than his own, "The American Hogwarts? Salem is in the United States, yes?" He vaguely recalled, either from his History of Magic or perhaps his primary school, he'd never payed attention to either honestly, some terrible movement against witches involving a place called Salem.

"Yes there's a Salem in the United States, but no, there school is called Ilvermorny,"** Remus shrugged. "I think this is some kind of women's organization."

The longer they walked, the more conversations they heard from all languages, but they all held the same tone. Excitement. Then Ron suddenly pointed out that everything had gone green. The trio had wandered into a patch of tents, every inch of which were covered in shamrocks.

Sirius began laughing anew, having known a few Irish supporters in his time at Hogwarts, and they were well known for going all out like this.

As they were walking through, they heard their names shouted from behind, and turned to see a fellow Gryffindor in their year named Seamus Finnigan, his mother, and his best friend Dean Thomas, also of their year and house. Seamus greeted them by asking if they liked the decorations?

"Yes, yes I do," James nodded happily, knowing he wouldn't be much better if his preferred team had made the Cup.

Adding on that the Ministry wasn't happy about it,

"I just can not imagine why," Lily rolled her eyes indulgently.

but Mrs. Finnigan happily said she didn't care, they were proud to show their colors! She also added on it was still better than what the Bulgarians had done, then quickly asked them if they were Ireland supporters?

"Here's hoping Harry has more sense than those two," Remus muttered quietly to Lily, who nodded while she watched James and Sirius smirk. They knew full well they'd love to start a Quidditch fight by supporting the opposite team in the middle of that field, possibly start a riot, it would be plenty of fun.

They all quickly said of course they were, while walking away, Ron adding once they were out of sight that they could hardly say anything else.

"Such a missed opportunity," Sirius sighed, shaking his head tragically, still unable to keep that smile off his face.

Hermione asked what the Bulgarians had done.

"With any luck, Vultures will be circling everywhere," James snickered.

Harry said they could go check, as he spotted their flag waving nearby. When they got there, they found every available tent surface covered in the face of the scowling Seeker, Viktor Krum.

"Ooh, new blood," Remus nodded.

"He must be good, to be the star player on everyone's tent," Lily shrugged.

"Wasn't Charlie talking about him earlier," Sirius mused. "Hadn't he said he was such an excellent Seeker, it would be a tough game just between him and the whole other team?"

"This match is going to be wicked," James looked like that smile was going to be frozen in place very soon, hoping it would come up anytime now!

Hermione's first comment was that he looked grumpy.

Harry gave a funny laugh, though he wasn't sure why. Something about Hermione and Krum though, why would he have a feeling about that?

Ron was flabbergasted that's what she noticed. He was the best Seeker in the world, and so young, only eighteen!

"Wow, and their star player," James was practically bouncing in his seat by this point. "He's got a nice long career ahead of him."

"Or early retirement, assuming a Bludger doesn't knock him stupid," Lily muttered.

They finally reached the water pickup, to find a line had already formed. They got a few paces behind a man in a flowery nightgown,

Lily, Harry, and Remus cracked all over again, even James and Sirius joined in this time as they were certain that even in the muggle world, blokes weren't exactly supposed to be wearing gowns.

arguing with a Ministry wizard holding a pair of pants, and nearly crying from exasperation as he tried to explain to the dressed man named Archie that Muggle men don't wear those. Archie argued back he'd bought what he was wearing in a Muggle shop.

"Well, he's not wrong," Lily managed to get out breathily.

Muggle women, the Ministry wizard corrected, trying to get Archie to take the pants, but the elder man wouldn't hear it, saying he liked what he was wearing, it created a nice healthy breeze around his parts.

Causing the boys to continue melting into the cushions with laughter, tears nearly coming to their own eyes they'd been laughing so much lately. Why couldn't they have just started with this book, it was certainly the most enjoyable yet. Waving aside that pesky first chapter which they had all adamantly put behind them, they were all finally starting to hope this good feeling would last a whole year.

Hermione couldn't stop giggling through the whole exchange, which lasted until it was Archie's turn to collect his water, which he did with dignity, his dress swaying in the breeze as he left. Having to walk more slowly now weighted down with the water, they reversed course and this time through the maze of tents found a few more fellow Hogwarts students, including Oliver Wood, Harry's old Quidditch Captain.

"Ooh, there's going to be a new Quidditch Captain this year," James yelped in remembered excitement, now realizing that Harry wasn't it, and wishing he'd gotten more of an insight into the rest of his team to see who it was. He was upset for his son it wasn't him, but he supposed as a fourth year it would be too soon for him anyways. Surely someone else would graduate and his son would get the chance before he left school though.

He dragged Harry over to his parents while informing him that he'd been assigned on the reserve team of Puddlemere United.

"Congratulations to him," Sirius nodded, really meaning it. They'd all had some irksome moments when it came to Wood's captaining, but the boy was a good player and he did deserve that at least. Hopefully working with professionals would help him with his, ah, team problems.

Then they ran into Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff in their year. Then Cho Chang, a very pretty girl who was a year above them and Seeker for Ravenclaw, gave Harry a wave as he passed.

Both James and Sirius gave Harry not so subtle little nudges, which he still dutifully ignored despite the blush trying to prove otherwise. For some reason whenever he thought of Cho, he didn't get a real feeling for her. Sure she was still pretty even in his memory, and while he was certain he may have liked her at the time, she held no interest to him for any length of time.

Harry sloshed most of the water he was carrying down his front as he waved back.

Causing all of them to smile at him now, and Harry to burrow even deeper into his seat, trying his best to avoid all eyes and brush his bangs onto his forehead with nerves. The exact opposite reaction of what James would have done giving Sirius and Remus an extra shot of delight.

In hopes to change the subject, the next time they passed a group of kids their age but he in no way recognized, Harry asked what school they went to, certainly not Hogwarts. Ron just shrugged and said it was probably some foreign school. His older brother Bill had pen palled with one from Brazil for a while, but when they'd tried to set up an exchange and Bill couldn't afford it, his pen pal had got all offended and sent Bill a cursed hat, which shriveled up his ears.

"Wasn't that one called Castelobruxo?" Sirius asked, finally stopping his smirking at Harry.

"Sounds right," James shrugged, wincing in sympathy for Bill.

Harry was shocked to hear there were more wizarding schools besides his own, but in retrospect he felt stupid as it made sense that there were several nationalities here, and not all of them could be attendance at just one place.

"Not stupid," Lily corrected at once. "It only just now occurred to you of the wider world, all kids come to that moment at some point."

Harry gave her a bright smile back, never growing tired of anyone in the room trying to correct his negative side, always feeling a happy bubble the more he realized he'd never had the experience before, though it only increased the craving every time that he had grown up not knowing all of them.

He gave a quick look at Hermione who was unphased by the news. Surely she'd come across this fact in one of her books.

"Would not surprise me," Remus agreed.

When they got back to their campsite, George complained at them they'd taken forever.

"Well you were taking your time," Sirius chuckled.

Ron just shrugged that they'd met some people along the way, then asked why the fire wasn't going yet? They looked around and saw Arthur was trying with enthusiasm, striking the matches against the box as he should, but several littered attempts around him proved what they saw next, he lit the end then dropped it in surprise.

Giving Lily and Remus another friendly giggle, picturing that all too easily.

Hermione kindly went over to him and helped to show him how to do it without killing it, then they had to wait some time for the fire to get warm enough to cook anything. While they waited, Mr. Weasley kept up a running commentary of everybody who ran by, mostly for Harry and Hermione's benefit as his own kids knew most of this already.

"Well I'm glad for it," Lily's eyes continued to brighten with interest, knowing she'd much rather enjoy the thoroughfare of the Ministry rather than Quidditch.

One man named Gilbert Wimple was hurrying past, he was on the Committee on Experimental Charms, and happened to have some horns sprouting, though according to Arthur they'd been there awhile.

"There's a point of conversation," Sirius smirked.

Then two men passed named Bode and Croaker, who were Unspeakables. Harry asked what that was, and Mr. Weasley explained they worked for the Department of Mysteries, and no one outside that field knew what they got up to.

Harry felt a terrible tightening in his gut at the mention of that place, unconsciously moving closer to Sirius, causing his Godfather to give him a look of surprise, though neither of them said anything, knowing if they did Harry would be the one to pay for it. Still, the motion bothered Sirius, and he was finally distracted from the upcoming game to let his mind wander back and wonder what he was up to, had he gotten Harry's letter yet, and why would that place have any connection to him?

Just as they were setting the kettle on, the rest of the Weasley's appeared, Percy greeting them by saying they'd just got done Apparating.

"Thank you, captain obvious," James snorted. "Here I thought you'd frog marched."

"How did they know where we were?" Harry asked in surprise.

"Remember that little post from where your portkey landed," Remus reminded him. "They would have gotten the same instructions as you from there."

The next person to arrive, Mr. Weasley greeted very warmly, calling him the man of the hour as he greeted Ludo.

Which gave Sirius an instant distraction, Harry's odd moment completely lost in his mind. The Ludo Bagman! "So you do meet him!" he practically screeched in Harry's ear, causing him to quickly reverse course and edge away from him, rubbing at his ear but grinning all the same.

"Guess I was right that time," he agreed easily, though still unable to shake that feeling that he didn't enjoy the man's company long.

Bagman certainly stuck out, even more than Archie in his dress.

"Now that's saying something," Lily smirked.

He was wearing his old Quidditch robes, slightly too tight around his girth, which had thick yellow and black stripes all down it, with a wasp pressed into the chest.

"Thinking someone's being a wee bit nostalgic," Remus snickered.

He had a round, childishly happy face, with large blue eyes, and a squashed nose, which could easily have come from one to many bludgers crushing it.

Sirius was practically quivering with excitement, wondering when that had come up, had it cost them the game, had he persevered through it and Bludgeoned someone off in retaliation!?

He practically bounced to their side, giving them a warm greeting, and walking as if he had springs in his heels.

"As he should be," James nodded along, his tone conveying the exact same feelings.

He greeted Arthur, then began at once talking of the coming match, speaking of the perfect weather and how all the arrangements had turned out perfectly, there was hardly anything Ludo could find to do! Behind him, Harry spotted two Ministry officials gesturing to a large purple plume of smoke that was rising.

"Timing," Remus exclaimed, not even bothering to fight down his laughter much anymore.

"Guess those African's got out of hand," Lily chuckled.

Percy jumped forward at once. Clearly whatever he disliked about the way Bagman ran his department, he still wanted to show a good front.

"Let's see him say that to his face," Sirius sniffed, never liking two faced people.

Arthur introduced first Percy, then Fred, quickly correcting that one was George, and that one was Fred-

"Even the parent's get them backwards," James smirked, still nursing and quite liking the idea if he could somehow have twins in his future.

before continuing along the lot, ending with Harry. Bagman's eyes at once flashed to the scar on Harry's forehead, but then he easily met Harry's eyes and gave him a smile.

"Least he was subtle about it," Lily sniffed, still sore as the rest of them from Mr. Diggory's presence.

"He's an international Quidditch player," Sirius offered. "I'm guessing he's used to fame, and he's being polite enough not to shove on Harry about it."

Then Arthur introduced Ludo Bagman as the one who'd gotten them their tickets! Bagman waved him off, saying it was no big deal, then asked if they'd like to put anything on the match? He gave a bag hanging from his belt a suggestive clinking noise.

Harry's instincts rose even more, his eyes narrowing as he was now sure this had something to do with his own disapproval of Bagman, something about him...and maybe Ron? It was definitely one of the Weasley's...at least he thought so...

He mentioned a few other people who'd already placed money down, and Mr. Weasley agreed he'd give a Galleon for Ireland to win. Bagman was clearly disappointed at those low stakes, but wrote him a slip for it anyways. Then Bagman offered if any of his kids wanted in, and Arthur tried to say they were too young, Molly wouldn't approve-

"Molly's not there," James scoffed. "It's their money, let them be."

Lily narrowed her eyes at her husband, she didn't much approve of gambling and quite agreed with Arthur, and most likely with Molly, that those kids shouldn't be until they were at least of age, but didn't pick an argument for it now.

the twins completely ignored him and offered up a huge sum of money,

Harry's gut went haywire, there it was, it was the twins and Bagman that made him feel so uneasy, but then Remus gave a breathy whistle as he said, "Well they're certainly playing to win," and the feeling was gone at once, to be replaced by a sharp pain for his trying to understand the connection. He just crossed his arms in disappointment and agreed aloud that he hoped it payed off.

that Ireland would win, but Krum got the Snitch.

At once, Harry again felt a pull, something in him saying that he should have a memory about this bet, but considering he'd just dealt with a mental backlash he wasn't going to push it.

Then they threw in one of their fake wands. Percy tried to tell them off for that, saying Bagman wouldn't want to see such rubbish, but Bagman turned out to be delighted when it turned into a rubber chicken, causing him to laugh loudly.

"I'm loving him more and more," Sirius cheered, his own eyes shining with childlike glee. "Any man who can laugh at that has a great sense of humor, oh I really hope those twins win now! Can you imagine them getting in good terms with Bagman! They might even get a sponsorship and-"

"Breathe Sirius," Remus said peaceably, at least trying to reign his friend in. "Let's see if they win the match first." Though privately he was thinking it could work out the way Sirius was picturing even if they didn't win their bet, if Bagman did like their ideas enough there was some great potential room in there.

Bagman happily agreed to the terms. Percy's face looked like he'd been smacked he was so disapproving.

"I still don't care," James happily chirped, like his friends all too pleased at where that could head.

Arthur tried one more time, saying that was their life savings,

"Bagman really should consider that their father is telling them no," Lily sighed, "And back him up. It's rude otherwise."

"They're, what, about a year from turning seventeen?" Sirius shot back. "When's their birthday Harry?" He directed, looking to make his point.

"April first," Harry shrugged.

The boys blinked in surprise, before all four of them cracked up laughing at how perfect these twins had been born on April Fool's day. Sirius quickly collected himself though, continuing like Harry had just made his point for him, "Less than a year then, their father really shouldn't get too much of a say what they do with their money."

Lily sighed, still in disagreement that Bagman wasn't showing proper manners, but before she could say anything else, Harry asked, "You guys got any predictions for the game?"

"Sadly not," James pouted, "as we don't know their stats or anything, otherwise I would put some money down."

but Bagman laughed Arthur off, saying they knew what they were doing. He wrote down their bet and a slip for them, adding on five Galleons to the boy's deed for the fake wand.

"Oh I definitely want to meet this guy in person," James wriggled around in pleasure, more than pleased to meet someone who was giving such vivid support to the twins.

Arthur stopped arguing the point as the twins handed over their money and tucked their slip safely away. Bagman turned back to Mr. Weasley cheerfully and asked if he'd seen Crouch around? He'd just had a run in with the Bulgarian minister, and he needed a translator, and as Crouch spoke over fifty languages he'd be a help.

Harry blinked in surprise, trying to process how you could cram so many languages into your head, but looking around he saw this wasn't new information to the others, which meant Crouch must have made this public knowledge often. He'd probably been at it for years then.

Percy happily jumped back in now, saying his boss knew over two hundred! Beginning to list some, such as Mermish, Troll- but Fred cut him off by pointing out anyone could speak troll, you just point and grunt.

Giving the boys yet another happy round of chuckling, fully agreeing with Fred on that point.

Percy gave his brother a fire shot look.

"Was he really expecting them to be impressed or something?" Lily snorted. "I'm positive Percy's mentioned this a dozen times to them, does he keep expecting a different response?"

"He's fighting a losing battle if so," James agreed.

Arthur then asked of Bagman if there'd been any news of Bertha Jorkins?

Then James gave a deep sigh, wondering why he couldn't go one chapter without that being brought up of late. He just wanted to enjoy the Cup, not keep thinking of that poor dead girl and the return of Voldemort, was that too much to ask for?!

Bagman didn't seem concerned as he brushed that off, saying this wasn't the first time she'd gotten herself lost. She'd probably show up in October still thinking it was July.

Making all five of them wince in sympathy, sadly knowing that not to be true.

Arthur tried to say it was time someone went looking, but Bagman just laughed and said Barty kept saying the same thing, but it really was pointless. As if their talking had summoned him, a new wizard appeared on their sight, making a stark contrast to Bagman. He held himself impeccably, wearing a fine suite and proper tie.

"I can already see why Percy's in love with him," Sirius snorted.

His hair and beard were perfectly groomed, and it was easy to see why Percy thought so much of him. His every demeanor showed he was a rule follower, he'd accorded himself so well to the Muggle clothes he looked like a broker.

"I at least give the others credit for trying," Lily gave yet another smirk as she flashed back to all of those flashy outfits she'd heard about. "Not all the wizards have the means to look into that kind of thing before hand, I'm sure he probably had someone lay the outfit out for him and probably didn't even look into it himself."

Harry doubted even Vernon would have spotted him for what he really was.

"You are not encouraging him to us," Remus sniffed in disdain.

Bagman happily offered him to take a seat with them, but Crouch said he hadn't the time, he'd been looking all over for him. The Bulgarian minister had found him, and was insisting they needed twelve more sets up in the Top Box. Bagman was surprised that's what was going on, he'd thought the chap had been asking for some tweezers.

All of them couldn't help another snort of amusement, picturing that conversation taking place a nice laugh.

Percy reacted at once to Crouch's arrival, giving him a bow then asking if he'd like some tea? Crouch only gave him a half glance, saying that would be nice, then referring to him as Weatherby.

"Ouch," Lily winced in sympathy while the boy's only laughed harder. She felt bad for him, clearly all of his hard work at the office wasn't paying him too much good yet if Crouch didn't even know Percy's name yet.

His siblings choked into their drinks while Percy turned pink and went to work.

"He's not going to correct him?" James asked in surprise.

"I'm sure Crouch could call him Grindelwald and Percy wouldn't correct him," Sirius snorted, not really noticing Harry give an odd start at the name.

Crouch then turned to Arthur, saying he'd needed to speak with him as well.

"That almost feels like a slap in the face to Percy," Remus still had a bemused smile in place even if he was starting to feel a little bad for it. "He's literally talking to Percy's dad, and didn't acknowledge the name mess-up."

"I've got a feeling Crouch would sooner eat his highly polished shoe then correct himself," Lily huffed.

A man named Bashir was demanding that flying carpets be let into the country, and Arthur gave a heavy sigh as he said he'd had this conversation before. Those were classified under Muggle Artifacts by the Registry of Proscribed Charmable Objects! Crouch agreed as much, saying that Bashir was still looking to export here in Britain. Bagman jumped in saying they'd never replace the broom, but Crouch countered that Bashir had the idea they'd become a family mode of transport.

"Well he's got a point there," Lily nodded, her mind spinning curiously. "I suppose if they were charmed to simply look like a cloud or something, Muggle's wouldn't even pay too much attention to them. I really can see how they could work."

"I still don't see those replacing brooms," James shrugged, "plus, it's the same problems with the flying car. You can enchant it all day, but the charms will wear off, and eventually some Muggle will notice. It'll cause more harm than good I'm sure."

A spark of interest was still there in Lily's eyes, she looked fully prepared to actually start a debate with her husband about it, but Sirius groaned and pleaded, "can we do this later, I want to hear about the Cup, and this book's been dragging on it long enough already."

Lily huffed as she muttered "you never let me have any fun," but didn't argue as James happily kept going.

Crouch agreed his grandfather had owned one that could seat a dozen, before they were outlawed of course. His tone making it perfectly clear even his ancestors had abided by every law.

Harry felt a funny feeling about that, like he should laugh at Crouch and something to do with a law? Does he do something illegal? Harry couldn't process it very well, he was too busy watching Sirius pantomiming like he was trying to remove a stick from his arse.

Bagman changed the subject then, asking if he was very busy? Crouch agreed he was, it wasn't easy getting five continents organized. Mr. Weasley asked if they'd both be glad when this was all done, and Bagman was shocked, saying he was enjoying himself! Then again, there was something else to look forward to organizing, giving Crouch a conspiratorial wink.

"Now what's this?" Remus asked in surprise. "Something else that the Head of Sports is also involved in?"

"Clearly not just some dull meeting then," James nodded in curious agreement.

Crouch gave Bagman a stern look which he ignored, as he went on to say that everyone had signed, these kids would want to know! It was happening at Hogwarts-

"What?" All five of them yelped in surprise this time.

"Now what on earth-" Lily began faintly, shooting furtive looks at Harry, a sad but familiar feeling of fear starting to creep into her already. She was being paranoid of course, just because something was going down at the school this year didn't automatically place her son in danger, but she really couldn't beat the feeling away anymore, it had too much practice settling a coldness in her chest.

Harry was blinking spastically, just knowing something was there, this was a part of the echoing feeling he'd held when this was mentioned earlier, but it wasn't complete yet. Nor was it boding well that his first instinct was to not be pleased about it.

Still, none of them had a clue what this could be, so James kept going for now in hopes Bagman would say more.

Crouch cut back in with force this time, saying they needed to see to the Bulgarian's. Just as Percy was done with his tea, he handed it back and thanked him, again calling him Weatherby.

That wasn't as distracting and funny the second time, only Sirius managing a faint laugh at Percy's expense while the others were still wrapped up in curiosity.

Bagman happily agreed they could get going, then promised to see the rest of them tonight. He was commentating up in the Top Box with them.

James actually almost passed out, that distracted him! "Y-you-you're in the t-top-" he was clearly unable of stuttering that out, his eyes likely to fall onto his glasses any second they were getting so wide with excitement.

"You've literally got the best seat in the house," Sirius half screeched, "and they were just given to you! I'd pay my weight in gold for that kind of seat!"

Harry had a wide smile indeed on his face, childishly pleased at the experience he was fixing to get. The only thing that would make it better was having the four of them hear about it with him, so that he could picture all the more easily what it would have been like had they really been up there with him.

James was left a gasping mess before he slapped his brain back into action, already half yelling his excitement as he continued.

Bagman gave one last cheerful wave before they both Disapparated, and Fred at once pounced on his father, demanding to know what was going on at Hogwarts? He just gave a small smile as he said they'd see.

"Now that's just cruel," Lily sighed, though clearly none of the boy's noticed. She seemed the only one left to ponder on the Hogwarts part, the males were all jittering in place for the match to come.

Percy agreed that was classified, Bagman had been foolhardy even mentioning that much. Fred snapped at him to shut up, now referring to him as Weatherby as well.

"That jokes not going away anytime soon," Remus muttered to himself, more excited then he would care to admit to listen to this coming game.

As dusk began to settle, the Ministry gave up. More and more wizards were releasing their pent up excitement, so much so that it was no longer possible to contain.

Lily sighed, already rubbing at her ear in discontent, but still unable to tell off James for being so blatantly excited for what he was reading. He needed this release, Peter's betrayal would most likely return eventually and continue to eat away at him, so she knew she'd let him carry on like this as long as he could.

Salesmen were starting to appear, carts full of memorabilia for both teams, including Bulgarian scarves that roared like lions.

"I'd buy one of those just so I could take it back to Hogwarts," Sirius smirked, "it's a two for deal."

Ron happily told his friends he'd been saving up his pocket money for ages for this, buying a shamrock hat, and a miniature figure of Krum.

"Good to see Ron supporting his team," Remus snickered, now more unclear than ever which side he was rooting for.

Harry spotted something else and darted off to look at brass binoculars, which were covered in knobs and dials.

"Ooh, another good buy," James all but squeed. "Can be more than useful outside of just watching Quidditch games at Hogwarts too. We used them all the time to spy on the other houses, and the teachers, and-"

"Okay," Lily did cut in this time, "I sleep better having less knowledge of what you lot did in your free time in and outside of that castle."

"You know you love our stories," Sirius shot back at once, and his smirk only grew when Lily didn't deny it. Still, James was too pent up for the Cup to let them keep at it.

The sales wizard happily told them they were omnioculars, could be used to show play by plays of the game, reverse footage so you could replay, and only ten Galleons. Ron pouted that he wished he hadn't gotten his hat now, but then Harry bought three pairs for them. Ron tried to protest, always having been embarrassed his family sported so little money.

"Ah they get over it," James said from experience, watching Remus pretend to ignore his friends eyeing him. "You just got to keep at it and wave away the thanks, they repay you back in other ways."

Harry laughed it off, saying he wasn't going to give Ron anything for Christmas for ten years instead.

Causing Sirius to release a bark like laughter as he joked, "that's all you spend on his presents, a galleon? For shame Harry, I think you actually owe him a few more now."

Harry pretended to look offended for a few moments, but he couldn't hold the expression long as he started laughing.

Ron happily agreed now, and Hermione showed back up, thanked Harry and said that she'd gotten them programs.

"Oh yes, I'm so sure that was on their to do list," Remus nodded, feigning a straight face.

"She really saved them some gold by taking that task on," James agreed with a solemn nod, before the chuckling continued.

Their money bags considerably lighter,

"Worth it," Harry smirked.

they went back to find the others also bedecked with souvenirs, except the twins.

"I'm sure they won't regret that if it pays off," Sirius snickered.

Mr. Weasley was just saying how it would happen any minute now, when a gong went off, and lights began coming to life in the forest, glowing red and green lanterns marking a path. Arthur's excitement was as visible as anyone as he told them it was time to go.

James mouth sagged in shock when he realized that his chapter was over, then he turned the wide set eyes to Sirius, before his face turned just as quickly away and he handed over the book.

HPHPHPHP

A lot of this chapter turned out to be Remus and Lily ganging up on James and Sirius, and I'm not sorry for that. It was pretty fun, and the reason I sat those two beside each other.

*I googled what British money looks like, sorry my American is showing, and from what I could tell British have the numbers on their money as well, so that was my best guess at Arthur's confusion. If I'm wrong and there's something else going on, please correct me.

**Childishly happy shout out to the American and all other wizarding schools being revealed after all these years. I got sorted into Horned Serpent, let me know yours.

#Harry Potter #fanfiction #reading the books #Marauders #GoF #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Lily Potter

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