#and i went with lance running away from morgana

[lit-in-thy-heart]

“ are you okay with me touching you? “ with Lancelot and anyone else?

sorry this has taken so long grem and thank you for the prompt!!!

this is inspired by the 'not a shade au' by @lemissingmask but was started before mask finished the au series and is therefore an au of their au...in essence

read below or on ao3

Mithian was accustomed to finding all numbers of injured creatures on her hunting trips. What they were not accustomed to finding, however, was injured strangers. So when they stumbled across a figure sprawled amongst the ferns, her first instinct was to freeze. The stag she’d aimed at was staggering through the foliage a little way off but Mithian paid no mind to it, tentatively approaching the frame curled up amidst the leaves. Her head turned at the distant calls of her companions before their gaze flickered back to the stranger at hand.

They were shrouded in a ragged cloak that obscured most of their body, face eclipsed by a tangle of dark hair, and Mithian tentatively outstretched her hand, fingertips brushing against what seemed to be a shoulder. There was a violent recoil and the figure bolted upright, scrambling backwards against a fallen tree. In the movement, their hair was tossed out of their face and Mithian almost flinched under the intensity of the eyes staring at them.

‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ she whispered. ‘What are you doing out here?’ They didn’t say that the stranger was technically trespassing. On no level would that be helpful. ‘What’s your name?’

The stranger remained where they were, their palms pushed against the ground to steady their quivering body. In the sunlight that gasped through the swaying leaves, their lips were painted with saturated colour as they parted slightly. Mithian instinctively leaned closer, their own fingers buried in the autumn leaves scattered on the ground, and she waited patiently for a response.

Their mouth closed again without a sound from them.

‘I’m Mithian,’ they softly said, adjusting her skirts and studying the stranger’s face. An expression that she couldn’t quite define flashed across their face and she continued. ‘I’m sorry if I startled you at all with the hunting. I wasn’t hunting you.’

Mithian fell silent with a frown. Of course no person would think they were being hunted – unless they were Druids and in the kingdom of Camelot – but the skittishness of the stranger’s gaze and the obvious positioning of their limbs to allow for a quick escape had forced the words out of their mouth. It was when the stranger leaned forwards that the light, which had been absorbed entirely by the gold band at the stranger’s throat, left a trail for Mithian’s eyes just below the jewellery.

The scarlet was layered with tender gilt, the dried blood flaking off like tears rolling down a face, and Mithian was transfixed. Had it not been for the clear clots and beginnings of scabs, then they perhaps might have been able to explain it away as lace attached to the collar. As she turned her head, the sunlight hit the collar again and exposed a chain of symbols carved into the surface.

‘This is magic,’ Mithian whispered, ignoring the calls of their name. She had ways of not being found when they didn’t want to be; her companions wouldn’t discover them until the precise moment she desired it. The stranger, however, was not so accustomed to ignoring shouts and started, the neck of their tunic falling to one side and unveiling part of their chest. ‘You’re a Druid?’

Their hand jumped to the triskelion mark on their skin and, hesitantly, they shook their head.

‘I’m not, either,’ Mithian murmured, removing their gloves. ‘But I can do this.’

A flame, with a single nudge from their eyes, ignited in her palm. The stranger, whom Mithian had been anticipating to flinch, drew towards the fire and the faintest of smiles pinched at their lips. Mithian looked down at the flames in their palm. They’d studied her fire against natural fire and, after many hours of coming very close to incinerating her own hair, Mithian had come to the conclusion that there was a cooler hue to her fire, a sharper quality. It was comforting, particularly on nights alone with their thoughts – and particularly since the Dorocha attack. Not that their magic had helped to defeat the Dorocha: the tale of Sir Lancelot had been scattered throughout the land after the balance had been restored.

Mithian didn’t usually make a habit of revealing her magic to strangers, but the triskelion had drawn an instinctive reaction from them and the stranger was watching the fire with an invested interest, even raising one hand. Mithian hesitated. ‘You want to hold it?’

As the stranger’s fingers brushed against her hand, Mithian tipped the flames delicately into their palm. The fact that they were letting her touch them, if only fleetingly, put them slightly more at ease and they took the opportunity to study the collar when the stranger was distracted. It was magic, that much was certain, but the way that the runes had been sketched out… There was a familiarity to them, in the way that the tails and flicks had been shaped, and they seemed to fall against Mithian’s soul like breath.

Their curiosity was broken by a gargling scream and the fire the stranger had been holding was flung to the ground. At a flash of Mithian’s eyes the tendrils were extinguished and her attention jumped to the stranger, whose trembling hands were hovering by their neck. The collar, which had before been ringed with dried blood, was weeping. Like visible seams, beads of blood trickled down the stranger’s throat in tributaries and they doubled over, alternating between trying to suppress their screams and whimpering.

Not only was it magic, then, but a method of control. Mithian flicked their braid over their shoulder and leaned as close to the stranger as she could without making contact. ‘Can you take it off?’ she urgently asked. At the frantic shake of the head, their mouth set in a thin line. She’d expected as much, but there had been a slim chance of it being easy to handle. ‘Alright. Alright. I might be able to.’ They pushed up her sleeves, hands outstretched. ‘Are you okay with me touching you?’

The hesitancy that flashed in the stranger’s eyes dissipated as they doubled over again, fingers digging into the earth. ‘Yes,’ they gasped out, flinging their head back as the tendons in their neck became more prominent. ‘Please, make it stop.’ There were tears squeezing out of their eyes. ‘Make it stop,’ they whispered.

Weaving their fingers beneath the stranger’s hair, Mithian placed her hands on the collar and hissed as it seared beneath her skin. The touch of the magic was familiar and ripped through to their very soul, but there would be time to analyse that after the collar was removed. Her palm grazed the stranger’s throat and a thin film of blood was drawn across the lines in her skin like a shroud but Mithian ignored it, focusing on the collar. If she could find where the band had been joined, if they could force their magic through the delicate crack in the finework…

The stranger was whimpering again and blood was flowing down Mithian’s wrist. If she couldn’t remove the collar, if they died in her arms without her even knowing their name…

‘Lancelot,’ came a gasp. ‘My name is Lancelot.’

Evidently she had spoken aloud. Tearing their eyes away from the collar for a moment, her lips parted momentarily. It had to be a different Lancelot, it had to be a common name after all, because Sir Lancelot had definitely sacrificed themself and there was no coming back from the veil between the two worlds. Mithian had been taught that well.

‘Alright, Lancelot,’ Mithian softly said. ‘I’m going to try and break the collar. It might hurt, it probably will hurt, but just hold on. It will be over soon.’

One way or another.

Mithian closed their eyes and allowed their magic to trip over the collar, feeling every surface as it stumbled, until it became caught like a finger in a door on a slight imperfection. Beneath her fingers she could feel it pulsing and could almost match the frantic heartbeat to the syllables of a name they had once known well. Mouth hardening, they opened their eyes and focused all her energy into splitting the collar. It fissured like ice beneath their hand and Mithian watched it break apart, golden shards spraying the ground.

The hand that had been buried in the earth flew to Mithian’s leg and Lancelot tried desperately to remain still as the collar around their neck was pulled apart. Through the thin layers of material Mithian could feel the panic Lancelot was pushing into her skin and she spared a moment to send a ribbon of harmless flames down Lancelot’s wrist. Their gaze, once they opened their eyes, settled on the fire and flickered in synchronisation with the flames and Mithian returned to the collar.

Shards that had broken off had been forced into their palms and their blood mingled with Lancelot’s as her skin met theirs. One hand slotted perfectly into the unshielded area she’d created and the jagged edges of the collar’s remains tore at their fingers as Mithian tried to stem the blood flow and remove the rest of the collar. An apology moved their lips senselessly as it was repeated and Lancelot’s forehead finally collided with hers.

‘You’re…doing me…a great service,’ they gasped out with a tone softer than leaves dancing in a summer breeze. ‘Stop apologising.’

‘I haven’t finished just yet,’ Mithian replied grimly, closing her eyes and giving one last push of magic.

A distant scream seemed to ripple through the grass as the collar dropped to the ground and Lancelot sagged forwards, collapsing on Mithian’s shoulder. Mithian wrapped one arm around their back and buried her hand in their hair to support their head, making soothing noises in their ear. The blood on her hand rubbed off in the roots of Lancelot’s hair, becoming entangled in their thick locks, and Mithian quietly exhaled. It was over.

Or perhaps not.

Mithian started as blood trickled down their sleeve, coming from the underside of her arm. She pulled away and saw that the blood from Lancelot’s wounds had not slowed, but was dripping down their body like they’d just emerged from a waterfall. They were a dead weight in her arms and, trying not to give into panic, Mithian carefully turned Lancelot’s body to lay them across her lap before ripping off her sleeves.

‘Lancelot,’ Mithian murmured. ‘Lancelot, can you hear me?���

‘Yeah,’ came the throaty whisper.

‘Look at me, Lancelot, look at me.’ Ever so slowly, Lancelot opened their eyes and tried to raise their hand. Mithian took it, pressing their lips to it. ‘Here’s the thing,’ they softly said, ‘you’re still losing a lot of blood. I know that after wearing that…thing you won’t want anything touching your neck but if I don’t apply pressure to the wound—’

Lancelot squeezed their hand. ‘Do what you have to do.’

Kissing their hand again, Mithian kept hold of it as they used their other to wrap the sleeve around Lancelot’s throat. Her fingers pressed against their neck and became veins to keep their life flowing. Blood blossomed along her sleeve like embroidered roses and Mithian allowed the defences that had prevented their discovery to drop. If Lancelot was to live, then they’d need all the help they could get. The back of their neck was cushioned on her thighs and the blood was seeping through her skirts but Mithian kept a tight grip on Lancelot’s hand and a fierce determination in the pressure on their neck.

‘Stay with me, Lancelot, stay with me.’

Above her own shallow breaths were the calls from her hunting companions, ringing out like a warning cry, and Mithian let out a brief shout before dropping their head to look at Lancelot again. They were watching them intently, eyes drifting across her face as if transforming her features into their epitaph, and the corner of their mouth flickered.

‘Thank you,’ Lancelot whispered. ‘Thank you for releasing me.’

‘You’re not going to be going any further just yet, though,’ replied Mithian, twisting her head to see if help was coming. There were healing spells, but the neck was so fragile and they were not in the best of conditions themself and so much could go wrong… ‘Only place you’ll be going is the palace at Nemeth.’

‘I wouldn’t want to intrude—’

‘You’d be a guest.’ Mithian tore their gaze away from the trees again. ‘And the best physicians in the kingdom can help you to recover, and you’ll be kept safe from Morgana—’

‘How did you—’

‘It’s not difficult to know who magic belongs to when it’s touched your very soul,’ breathed Mithian. The blood was smeared across her palms again. ‘I’m sure, should you ever come across something I’ve enchanted in the future, you’ll be able to know it was me.’

Lancelot’s eyes fluttered shut. ‘Bold of you to assume you’ve touched my soul.’

Despite everything, despite being decorated in violent splatters of Lancelot’s life as they bled out, Mithian quietly laughed. ‘There’ll be time to make sure I do.’

At thundering footsteps, Lancelot stiffened in Mithian’s lap and she turned her head, softly reassuring them when it proved only to be their hunting companions. Lancelot was lifted from the ground and, as they were carried back to the horses with haste, Mithian’s lips refused to part to say goodbye. There would be no farewells, not when they would see Lancelot again at the palace. She ignored the hand offered to them for several moments and took deep breaths, closing their eyes against the image of their body gilded by pieces of Lancelot. It was no use; the engraving remained in their mind. Bloody flowers studded her skirts and the sunset’s spittle formed mosaics across their palms and Lancelot was in her hair, in the folds of their skin, beneath her nails.

Mithian could only hope that Lancelot would be in their life for a little longer.

[kaiwrites-if]

How would the RO‘s react if they walked in on Merlin undressing ? If this ask makes you uncomfortable I’m sorry and pls ignore it

Don’t worry anon, unless it’s anything that would be considered “taboo”, there’s not much that makes me uncomfortable, in that sense.

This will be set after they’ve found out Merlin’s identity if relevant.

Under the cut because it got long.

Arthur is annoyed.

Merlin was supposed to meet him outside with the horses fifteen minutes ago. Instead, Arthur finds himself stalking towards Merlin’s room to drag them out by their ear. He makes sure to stay as quiet as possible so as to not alert Merlin to his presence, before bursting through the door, expecting to find Merlin still asleep in bed.

“Are you utterly incapable of…” the words die in Arthur’s throat as his eyes settle upon the sight in front of him. He feels vaguely mortified at the heat spreading over his cheeks and spilling down his neck, but he’s more preoccupied with forcing his limbs to move and get him away from this situation. The image of Merlin’s (nearly) bare chest is seared into his mind, making him clumsy as he hastily retreats. Arthur doesn’t once look at Merlin’s face, he can’t.

“Hurry up, idiot!” Arthur yells, not turning back. “We haven’t got all day.”

————

Morgana has been waiting to talk to Merlin about her dreams all morning. She had accosted Arthur about where his servant was, but he had just rolled his eyes and told her to try their room.

So, here she is, waving at Gaius as she makes her way to the back where Merlin’s room is. Morgana is so caught up thinking about what she needs to say, that she doesn’t realise that she has walked straight into Merlin’s room without knocking until she hears a yelp.

Focusing on Merlin, she sees the wide-eyed look they’re shooting her, before her eyes flick down to where Merlin is pressing a shirt against their chest in an attempt to hide it from her. Morgana makes eye contact with Merlin once again.

“I need to speak with you, Merlin, so I suggest you put that shirt on.” she smirks, flashing her teeth briefly. “Before we both become too distracted.”

————

Merlin had asked her to borrow the book she had been reading a couple of days ago. Gwen had since finished it, and decided to drop it off to them. She makes her way to their room, and gently raps her knuckles against the door.

No response.

Gwen frowns. Perhaps they aren’t in? She figures it won’t hurt to just leave the book in their room, so she opens the door, and promptly shrieks at Merlin’s half naked chest, dropping the book and covering her eyes.

“I am so, so sorry!” Gwen squeaks. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer, not that it’s your fault! I should have tried again, or left the book outside, or called for you- oh gosh, I really am sorry.”

Gwen is so flustered that as she whirls around to leave, she smacks straight into the door.

“Oh, there’s - there’s a door there. Right. I - sorry again,” she yelps as she practically runs out of the door.

————

Lance and Merlin had arranged to meet in the Physician’s chambers so Lance could drop something off before they went to meet Gwen and Morgana at the market.

“Merlin?” Lance calls in the direction of Merlin’s room when he sees that they aren’t in the main room.

“Just a moment,” comes the reply.

Lance places the herbs that he had picked on his patrol on Gaius’s worktable, and then leans against the opposite table to wait for his friend.

He would never have entered Merlin’s room without explicit permission usually, but when he hears a yelp of what appears to be pain, he’s moving faster than his mind can catch up.

“Merlin, are you alright?” He asks as he throws the door open.

Regret comes immediately. Merlin is standing there with the bottom of their shirt clenched between their teeth, revealing their bare torso and (nearly) bare chest. A red mark is blossoming over their ribs. Lance quickly schools his face, shoving any feelings aside in order to make sure that Merlin is okay.

He’s relieved when they drop the shirt in order to talk to him. A small part of him though, can’t help but feel disappointed.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Twin!AU Part 2:

Gwaine is ecstatic to find that he’s technically dating Royalty (Arthur still isn’t best pleased), and Merlin begins to recover his true heritage.

Part 1   Part 3

Gwaine stares at the two of them open-mouthed from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

Re-telling the story had re-ignited Merlin and Arthur’s anger, but they do a good job of keeping it in as Gwaine tries to process that his partner and The Prince of Camelot are... twins. Gods this sounds like something out of one of Leon’s ridiculous fiction books: long lost royal twins and insane Kings and emotional reunions with long-dead, ghostly relatives. But to be fair, Gwaine has found that in all of his travels, Camelot has definitely been the weirdest place he’s ever been. Or perhaps it’s just the people.

He finally shuts his mouth, nodding slowly as he takes a deep breath and stands. He wipes his sweaty hands down his trousers briefly before stepping forward and pulling Merlin into a hug, making pointed eye-contact with Arthur over his shoulder. The only thing that Gwaine and Arthur had ever agreed on was that Merlin’s safety was of the upmost importance; this whole ordeal had just strengthened that agreement:

“That’s... you guys have had one hell of a day, huh? You said Gaius, and your mo- Hunith, and that bloody Dragon knew?”

Merlin tenses in his arms before pulling away, and Arthur’s expression turns stormy once more as he nods. Gwaine frowns, keeping one hand on Merlin’s shoulder as the servant (Prince?) responds bitterly:

“Hmm. We haven’t spoken to Kilgharrah or Hunith yet, but they’ll be getting a bloody mouthful from me, when we get time.”

Gwaine nods sympathetically, muttering his reply more to himself than the others:

“...Bastards.”

Arthur nods, but takes a deep breath as he puts his own hand on Merlin’s other shoulder:

“Agreed, but we’ve been gone too long; Leon’s been dealing with the council for at least half an hour and we need to go explain things sooner rather than later. News of my- The King’s arrest will spread like wildfire once it gets out.”

Merlin sighs, sagging slightly where he stands, and Gwaine steps even closer to him, moving his arm to be over his shoulder in a side-hug:

“Hey, I’m sure Arthur and Leon can deal with this if you’d rather hide out in here for a little peace. We could always set Morgana loose on the council, she’s bound to whip them into shape.”

(Yes, this fic is ignoring the timeline both in terms of the knights AND Morgana. She knows about Merlin’s magic, and Merlin, Arthur, and Gwaine (and Lance) know about hers.)

Merlin lets out a quiet huff of laughter, leaning into Gwaine’s side slightly as he looks up:

“No, I can’t. Arthur’s right, we need to sort this out sooner rather than later. I’d be perfectly content to not tell anyone about who I really am-”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow and Arthur narrows his eyes, ready to protest, but is interrupted by Merlin’s loud continuation before he can say anything:

“-but I know neither of you will let me get away with that so... here we are.”

Arthur nods decisively and Gwaine hides a grin, clearly thinking about how he’s technically courting a Prince. Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s expression, a small part of him cursing himself for letting the drunkard stay in Camelot, but the rest of him is grateful, knowing that Merlin needed more than Arthur on his side, especially now he had lost, or partially lost, Gaius, Kilgharrah, and Hunith.

The blonde Prince lets out a deep sigh, looking towards the door despondently as he decides that they really can’t leave Leon to fend for himself any longer. The three of them make their way from the room wordlessly, but Arthur halts the group again at the end of the corridor, turning to Gwaine with a thoughtful frown:

“Go find Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, Morgana, and Gwen. Gaius is a member of the council so he should already be there but double check he isn’t in his chambers, and Leon may have fetched Morgana himself, but I don’t know.”

Gwaine turns to look at Merlin and speaks quietly:

“What should I tell them?”

Merlin’s frown deepens and he glances at Arthur, but he just shrugs slightly, giving the choice to Merlin:

“They’ll all find out in the meeting anyway, so it might be best to pre-warn them so they aren’t blind-sided. Tell them the truth, I was born with magic, and am Arthur’s long lost twin brother, confirmed by Igraine’s ghost and then Gaius.”

He looks bewildered as he says it, almost as though he doesn’t fully believe it quite yet; Arthur nods in agreement and continues his instructions to Gwaine:

“Have everyone meet us there as soon as possible, I want to get this sorted now and I’m going to need as many people on my side as I can get.”

Gwaine nods seriously, pressing a brief kiss against Merlin’s forehead before rushing off in the other direction, hurriedly knocking on the knights’ doors down the corridor as Merlin and Arthur turn the corner.

They make quick work of the journey back through the castle, stopping just outside the doors to the Throne Room with sweaty palms and shivering lungs. The two of them listen to the annoyed sounding murmurs coming from inside for a few moments and the guards try not to give them odd looks as Arthur glances to Merlin—stood at his side instead of behind him—with a fond, though nervous smile. He puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder:

“We’re about to cause one hell of an argument, you ready?”

Merlin takes a deep, calming breath, smiling briefly as he hears Leon pleading with the council to be patient for just a little longer, looking to Arthur with anxious eyes and pale cheeks:

“Yeah. Come on, I think Leon might hurl himself from the window if we make him wait much longer.”

Arthur chuckles quietly, and the guards quickly divert their gazes when he looks back to the doors, taking one last fortifying lungful before walking forward and pushing them open with a bang, Merlin at his side.

The room goes suddenly quiet and Leon visibly relaxes when they walk in, bowing briefly before stepping aside and allowing Arthur to take his place in front of the thrones. There is no table in the Throne Room, so the council stand gathered in the middle, staring up at Arthur incredulously as he runs a hand down the arm of The King’s throne absent-mindedly. He was grateful to see Gaius present, despite not being in any sort of mood to talk to the man; he holds a smirk in when he sees several of the councilmen raise eyebrows at Merlin, still stood at his side when he technically shouldn’t even be in the room. There was even further incredulity as Sir Leon moves to stand guard behind him, as opposed to The Prince.

One of the Lords nearer the front of the small crowd finally breaks the tense silence:

“My Lord, what is the meaning of this? We were told it was an emergency, that we were meeting in the Throne Room as opposed to the council room, and were then made to wait for almost a candle-mark. The King has yet to arrive, what is going on?

Arthur turns to look at them with a raised eyebrow, back straight and face impassive:

“Patience, Lord Angar, The King will not be joining us, though we are waiting for a few more-”

The doors open before he finishes and every head turns to see the remaining knights, Gwen, and Lady Morgana enter, led by a serious looking Gwaine. All of them give Merlin a small smile and a bewildered nod, bar Morgana, who looks nothing short of furious as she moves to stand protectively at his side, glaring at any councilman who dares to look their way. The knights spread out, standing to attention with hands on their swords around the edge of the room, whilst Gwen moves to stand against the wall behind Morgana, Merlin, and Leon. Only Gwaine, Leon, and Lancelot are in full armour, but all the knights are armed and angry looking.

The councilmen, looking more confused and annoyed, look back to a still impassive Arthur. He fixes a short glare on each and every one of them before turning to face them properly and speaking confidently, his tone inviting no argument:

“The King has been arrested and confined to his chambers for the murder of the late Queen, and gross crimes against the Kingdom.-”

The room immediately explodes into angry and incredulous yelling, and Merlin flinches away from the sudden noise. Morgana squeezes his wrist comfortingly, knowing that it was only going to get worse when the rest of the truth is revealed, and Leon steps out from behind him, moving to be at his side with his sword halfway out of it’s sheath.

The other knights and Gwen all tense in place and Gwaine has to resist the urge to run to Merlin, knowing that the council’s disdain for both him personally and his courtship with Merlin would just make things worse. Arthur rolls his eyes at the cacophony of noise and slams the metal part of his gauntlet against the arm of the throne with a bang:

“ENOUGH! You’ll find, gentlemen, that remaining calm and quiet will make this conversation much easier.-”

He glowers at everyone until the hall is drowning in another tense silence before taking a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his hands from fidgeting as he continues:

“-It has come to my attention, through the Witch Morgause-”

A few murmurs of dissent go around the room, but they quickly cease when even the ever-calm Sir Leon begins to glare at people:

“-and further confirmation by The Court Physician, that King Uther used sorcery, against The late Queen’s wishes, in order to conceive a child. He was warned of the dangers, and went ahead with his plan anyway, which resulted in not only the birth of twins, one of whom was magical, but the death of the Queen.-”

At the mention of Gaius, the elderly Physician gets a few confused glances, and even more glares; no one likes being kept out of the loop, especially when everyone there is a Lord except Gaius. At the mention of twins, everyone’s attention is abruptly back on Arthur, and the knights have to resist the urge to look at Merlin, in fear of giving anything away too early.

Before he can continue, Arthur is interrupted by Lord Angar again:

“My Lord, I very much doubt the validity of anything you have just said, but either way, is this really the sort of meeting to be had with servants, a Lady, and your peasant knights present? I know you’re oddly fond of them but-”

Arthur, Leon, and Morgana have to resist the urge to punch the Lord in the face at his words. Gwen, Percival, Lancelot, and Elyan manage to keep their faces neutral, though Gwaine glowers openly. The knight does however hold in his smirk when he notices the fury on Arthur’s face. The Prince takes a threatening step forward but doesn’t lower himself from the dais as he speaks, his tone cold:

“Lady Morgana, Guinevere, and Merlin have proven to be better advisors to me than you ever have Lord Angar; Sirs Percival, Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine are amongst the best knights this Kingdom has ever seen, and you will show every one of them the respect they deserve, or you will excuse yourself from this room, and this council. Am I understood?”

The red of Angar’s face gets more severe as he splutters:

“My Lord you can not be-”

“Am I understood?!-”

Arthur’s voice cuts through everyone in the room, despite it’s low volume, and where Leon hides his proud smirk, Morgana doesn’t hold back at all, especially when Angar takes a deep breath and nods his purple head in embarrassment. The rest of the council seems to finally have grasped the seriousness and severity of the situation and play close attention to Arthur as he continues, no one daring to interrupt again:

“-This information changes everything we know about sorcery; my father started a genocide against an innocent group of people because he was too much of a coward to admit his mistakes and refused to take the rightful blame for killing his wife. I will not stand for this, and things will change very soon. If you are not outraged at the unjustness of his actions, at the death and suffering he has caused our people, the people we are meant to serve and protect, then you are more than welcome to leave. Meetings to organise and begin the process of legalising magic will start early tomorrow, and I will be accepting no excuses, this is non-negotiable. As for the matter of my twin brother...-”

Arthur glances back to Merlin, and at his slight nod, Arthur shoots him a small smile and holds his hand out to him. Merlin walks slowly forward to the sound of the council gasping and muttering to themselves, Leon stays barely a hair’s breadth behind him with his sword fully drawn:

“-may I present Prince Myrddin Pendragon.-”

Lord Angar, among others, looks seconds away from bursting once more, so Arthur hurries to continue, though still manages to keep his voice forceful and confident:

“-This information was unconfirmed for both of us until around a candle-mark ago; I have never believed in fate before now, though I think we can all be grateful that The Prince managed to return to Camelot all on his own.-”

He settles his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t pull him forward too much, understanding that his serv- his brother, probably wants to be as far away from the centre of attention as he can get.

“-I want him presented to The Kingdom and crowned before the month is out, this matter is also non-negotiable. Any questions?”

Lord Angar looks desperate to start yelling, but he also seems to have finally accepted that his influence over this room, and now the council in general, was tenuous at best. One of the newer councilmen, a young Lord who Arthur has a slowly growing respect for, steps forward slightly, bowing his head before meeting Arthur’s gaze and quietly asking:

“And The King, My Lord? Should we plan for your coronation as well?”

It was clear that the question was unexpected and Arthur frowns at the realisation that he had... arrested The King. Uther may have deserved it, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to order his execution, and knowing Merlin he’d argue against it endlessly anyway.

Morgana senses Arthur’s hesitation after a second or two, thankfully before the council becomes restless and annoyed:

“You could always take over as Regent whilst we sort all of this out; that way we can revisit the issue of actually crowning you King later. Though we can’t confine Uther to his chambers forever, we’ll have to deal with him at some point.”

Arthur hums and nods, giving her a thankful smile before looking back to the young Lord:

“Lady Morgana’s suggestion is sound. I’ll take over as Regent,-”

He nods at Geoffrey of Monmouth, who takes a note down in the giant leather tome he perpetually has under his arm. If Arthur thinks about it for too long, he might come to the conclusion that the older man looks proud:

“-and we can revisit the issue when the dust has settled.-”

He rubs his eyes tiredly, as though the last day or so of drama had finally landed with it’s full weight upon his shoulders:

“-I think it goes without saying that, for now, none of this is to leave the room. I trust only Sir Leon with assigning who is to guard The King,-”

He glances to Leon, who nods seriously at his words:

“-keep it discreet Leon. I want to keep as much of this under wraps for as long as possible to avoid public panic; this is going to be a lot of hard work gentlemen, but I mean to see it through with or without your support, the choice is yours. The first meeting will take place in the normal council room tomorrow, two candle-marks after dawn. You’re all dismissed.”

The councilmen—including Gaius, after he sends a forlorn look Merlin’s way—slowly trickle out of the room, some looking angry, most looking resigned, but a few looking rather content, happy even (Arthur and Morgana take mental notes of who is who). The door shuts quietly behind the last man, leaving only Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, and the knights left, all of whom understanding that the dismissal did not include them. Arthur lets out a deep sigh when the room quietens, looking back up to Merlin with a tired smile and even more tired eyes:

“Ready brother?”

He quirks an amused, but hugely pleased eyebrow as he says it and Merlin grins, rolling his eyes fondly:

“Not even close, but that’s never stopped me before.”

Arthur chuckles as the others all move closer, an odd mix of exasperated, because Merlin turning out to be Arthur’s long lost magical twin is exactly the sort of insanely dramatic thing that’s likely to happen in Camelot, and hesitant, because... how do they even deal with that? Other than with a great deal of confusion?

Gwen is the first to reach him, pulling Merlin into a tight hug that is very well received:

“I’m sorry Merlin, I can’t imagine how difficult this must be, and I’m so terribly sorry for all the horrible things I’ve said about magic.-”

She pulls back but doesn’t let go of his shoulders, staring up at him with tears in her eyes and a desperate look on her face:

“-You know that we all love, and trust you, don’t you??”

Merlin rolls his eyes fondly and pulls her back into a hug with a wide smile on his face:

“Of course I know that, I love you too Gwen. And don’t worry about it, you believed what you were taught, it’s not your fault.”

She looks like she wants to argue again when she pulls back, but Merlin just pats her cheek softly and gives her a warning glare. She huffs but dutifully steps back, allowing Gwaine to take her place as the rest of the knights pat his shoulders and run soft hands through his hair as way of apology and comfort. 

Merlin smiles at them, but sobers quickly when a particularly horrible thought re-occurs to him. Gwaine squeezes his shoulder in question and Arthur furrows his brows:

“Merls?”

Merlin just sighs and leans into Gwaine’s side slightly:

“I need to talk to my... Hunith. And Kilgharrah, but I really don’t have the energy for him right now.”

Arthur nods in understanding, thinking for a moment before looking up to the huddle of knights (most of whom look marginally confused at the mention of whoever the hell Kilgharrah is):

“Percival, Lancelot, you know where Ealdor is?-”

The two of them nod, remembering the route from visiting with Merlin a few months ago:

“-Leave at dawn, take an extra horse and bring Hunith back with you. With all that’s going on, me and Merlin can’t afford to be gone for even a day and it’s a four days’ journey there and back.”

They nod, but Lancelot quickly responds with a quiet:

“We can leave now if you like, it’s not like the journey will take much prep. What should we tell her?”

He looks to Merlin, who frowns slightly as he replies, his words slow:

“Don’t tell her anything, Arthur and I need to have that conversation with her. She’ll panic when you turn up without me so feel free to tell her that we’re all alive and uninjured and not in any danger but... just don’t tell her the real reason.”

Their smiles are understanding, and just a little pitying, but they turn and march off the moment Arthur nods at them in approval, determined to do everything they can to make things go smoothly and easily.

It’s Elyan that breaks the now slightly uncomfortable silence a few moments later:

“So... do we still call you Merlin? Or is it Prince Myrddin, My Lord?”

Merlin grimaces the moment Elyan mentions what would soon be his official title, and the others grin at his reaction, chuckling as he runs a hand through his hair:

“No one’s called me Myrddin since I was about five, and I think it would be a little odd if that changed now, so Merlin is just fine.”

The others nod in agreement, though Arthur sighs as he responds, faux annoyance in his tone:

“Paperwork’s going to be bloody confusing.”

~

It takes Merlin all of three hours to figure out that Arthur had subtly assigned him a constant guard. The guard consists of Sirs Leon and Gwaine, so he isn’t... complaining, per se, but it's annoying, to escape company for a quick piss to find his partner and friend casually hovering right outside the door.

But to be fair, Merlin only notices when his brain registers that Gwaine isn’t there, and how odd that is. Whilst Merlin is interrogating Leon, Arthur is cornering Gwaine in a seldom used corridor, though the rambunctious knight beats Arthur to the punch:

“I think we’ve been here before, Princess.”

Arthur raises an amused eyebrow at Gwaine’s teasing grin, before sagging slightly in place and sighing. Gwaine sobers immediately, putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and trying to meet his gaze:

“Arthur?”

Arthur sighs again, looking up to him with tired eyes:

“This goes without saying, but Merlin.... he is everything to me. As far as I’m concerned he and Morgana are my only family, though I suppose I believed that before all of... this; but that’s besides the point. I know you won’t ever mean to hurt him, and I do trust you, as... difficult as that is to admit, but I need to you understand, Gwaine,-”

Gwaine nods in understanding and agreement:

“I do understand, Arthur. He’s everything to me as well.”

Arthur shakes his head and steps back, bringing himself to his full height:

“No, you don’t. He is my brother, and he was taken from me. He has suffered, more than I think either of us will ever know, and that stops, this Kingdom is now being built for him. But I would burn it all down if it would make him happy. Everything is for him, for Morgana, for my family. Do you understand?”

Gwaine nods, only once, before holding his hand out. Neither his hand nor his voice shakes as he responds:

“I’ll pour the oil, you light the match.”

Arthur pauses for a moment, as if trying to gauge his own trust in the other man, before clasping Gwaine’s hand strongly. 

The seriousness of the moment ends when Gwaine lifts his other hand to tug sharply at Arthur’s hair before ducking under his arm and skipping down the corridor towards where they’d left Merlin and Leon. Arthur just huffs and follows him, definitely not sulking.

Merlin turns to them both with a scowl when they enter, immediately taking note of the residual gravity in the tightness of Gwaine’s shoulders:

“And what have you two been doing all of sudden?”

Leon bites his lip to stop himself from snorting in amusement, but fails miserably the moment Gwaine shrugs and opens his mouth:

“I don’t know, some sort of mutual arson pact I think.”

Arthur rolls his eyes first at Gwaine subtly, then at Merlin, far more obviously:

“Honestly Merlin, we’ve spent practically every second with you all day, you can’t go a few minutes without us?”

Merlin huffs noisily and turns around to grab Leon’s wrist, dragging him from the room and not looking over his shoulder as he snarks:

“Leon’s always been my favourite knight anyway.”

Gwaine and Arthur just look outraged, both speaking at the same time:

“Hang on, what about me?!”

They fix each other with narrow-eyed glares before shoving each other childishly, fighting over who could shoulder their way through the door first.

~

The next conversation, a few days later, is... a lot harder.

With Kilgharrah’s odd ability to seemingly know about everything that happens in Camelot, Merlin couldn’t get away with putting off speaking to him for long, especially with how The Warlock could feel the way he was angrily clomping about in his cave.

The short journey down through the dungeons, made by Arthur, Merlin, and Gwaine, was made mostly in silence. The oppressive feeling of Kilgharrah’s mishmash of emotions bouncing around in Merlin’s head made focusing on any other strain of thought impossible, and Gwaine and Arthur were too busy stewing in their own anger and worry to want to disturb him.

They pause momentarily outside the large iron gates leading to Kilgharrah’s lair, none of them looking to each other as they take deep breaths in an attempt to gather some bravery. Arthur and Gwaine have never said anything, but Kilgharrah terrifies the shit out of both of them; Merlin normally takes these trips alone—Arthur and Gwaine’s fear wasn’t difficult to pick up on and he never wanted to make them uncomfortable—allowing the other two their blissfully ignorant beauty sleep as he sneaks away to argue with a Dragon. But that’s obviously not in the cards today; no way either of them would let him face this alone.

Kilgharrah is waiting for them when they push open the gate and stalk out onto the ledge, and he raises himself to his full height, sparing barely a glance in Arthur’s direction and sparing Gwaine even less as he stares at Merlin with aloof, golden eyes:

“You have discovered who you are, Young Warlock, at long-”

Merlin interrupts him with a scowl and a held up hand:

“You had no right,-”

His voice is echoingly deadly, and the two knights find themselves being reminded of Merlin’s seemingly endless power. Merlin being angry at Gaius was... was like a child being heartbroken at a parent’s betrayal, which it was in some ways. But Merlin being angry at Kilgharrah... that was much more; like a God being angry at a creature of His own design. Merlin stands before The Great Beast, centuries old, full of unimaginable knowledge, and he stands tall, and proud, and angry.

“-no right, to keep this from me. You claim that no one can know their destiny, and then proceed to prattle on about mine in riddles. In my search for answers, you gave me more questions. In my search for comfort, you gave me fear. In my begging for help, you gave me nothing but pain. I’m done, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

Kilgharrah bristles, flaring his arched nostrils as his furious reaction ripples across his hardened scales:

“How dare you compare me to-”

Merlin interrupts him with a yell, his voice growling in it’s reverberation, a hidden power more ancient than the mountains themselves echoing in his words:

“You separated my brother from me and you had no right! You whine about how Uther took your kin from you, but you took my kin from me! You suffered so you made it your greatest goal to make everyone else suffer just as much. You are cruel, and cowardly, and I am done. You will not manipulate me anymore, you will not lie to me, or mislead me. You tried to get me to kill the boy, but I didn’t, and I forgave you. You tried to get me to kill Morgana, but I didn’t, and I forgave you. You keep trying to get me to free you, but I won’t. You will rot in here until you can tell me the truth, a truth I deem worthy, on why you kept my heritage from me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and marching out of the gate without another word, Gwaine following closely behind. Arthur stays, just for a few moments, though with Merlin’s sudden display of power over the beast before him he finds himself significantly less frightened:

“He’s right, you know. Every one of my brother’s successes has come to pass because he ignored you. You have haunted him every step of the way, causing nothing but grief; you should be grateful, Merlin has offered you a chance of redemption that I would not have.”

Arthur doesn’t wait for a response either, jogging up the steps to catch up with the other two just exiting the dungeons.

Merlin doesn’t ask what was said, though Gwaine does raise an eyebrow in The Prince Regent’s direction; Arthur gives him a short nod, acknowledging Gwaine’s need to know, need to keep a tight hold on everything so he could keep Merlin safe and happy. Or as happy as he can keep him in this situation. Gwaine relaxes when he understands Arthur’s promise to tell him later, trusting the blonde to have Merlin’s best interests at heart.

The slight relaxation doesn’t last long however; Merlin heads up through the castle towards the large doors leading into the courtyard. The other two follow him, knowing that the younger man likely needs some fresh air to recover from the pressing darkness and power and heaviness of Kilgharrah’s presence, but they quickly tense when he suddenly halts on the steps just outside the doors.

When they peer over his shoulder, they are abruptly reminded of the amount of time that had passed since Percival and Lancelot had left. And apparently returned.

Hunith dismounts her horse quickly, her mouth stretching into a relieved smile as she runs towards him. Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at her with blank eyes, and Gwaine’s eyes shift nervously between the two of them. Hunith’s relief is quickly dropped when she notices Merlin’s non-reaction, and she slows just before she ascends the steps, looking up at Merlin with her brow creased in worry:

“Son?”

Merlin’s expression hardens; his hands clench and his eyes and tone turn icy as he responds:

“I’m not your son.”

~

END of part 2!!!

Sorry to be a teeeaaasssee :))))) (Not really)

I’ve recently got a BUNCH more hours at work (which is like... good for me personally but not so great for my social life or hobbies lol) so things might take a little longer to come out from now, but I promise this blog is still ultra active and going!! I’ll just only have time to write in the evenings nowadays.

I’m not sure when part 3 will be, but it’s in the works and won’t be too long!! Two weeks at absolute MOST I imagine :D

[twosidesofthesameidiot]

Fall

Word Count : (1735) Characters: Merlin; Gwen; Will; Lancelot Summary: A series of autumns in Merlin's life Warnings: angst A/N: Fill for a5 "campfires" for @merlinbingo AO3 link

“Come ooon,” a brown haired boy shuffled his feet as he stood outside his best friend’s home, resisting the temptation to go in and drag him out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, I just need - hah!” a boy with black hair tumbled out of the hut with all of his usual grace and enthusiasm, which is to say, none and, in the first boy’s opinion, an unhealthy amount.

“What did you almost forget this time?”

“Doesn’t matter,” the shorter boy grinned, “I remembered it, and that’s what’s important.”

His friend rolled his eyes, “I swear you’d lose your head if it wasn’t attached to you,” he knocked his knuckles against his friend’s head.

“Oi, rude,” he stuck his tongue out in retaliation.

The brown haired boy just snickered.

The fallen leaves crunched underfoot as they made their way into the forest. The black haired boy kicked some at his companion who retaliated by throwing a hastily snatched handful back at him. Squirrels gathering last nuts into their hoards retreated to the safety of the trees as the boys rushed by stirring up the leaves. From above, the birds watched the forest floor spring to life in their wake. Leaves leaped and reached for the trees from where they had fallen, the mingling colours mimicking a fire like the one they sat near now.

The black haired boy’s eyes were wide, the light of their campfire making them appear a deep blue.

“... they’ll take your soul, the very warmth from your bones.” The brown haired boy paused, “ They say all that’s left is an icy corpse. Freaky, right?”

An icy wind cut through the otherwise still night and both boys start before moving closer to the fire.

“That’s creepy as heck, why’d anyone want t’go and do that for?”

“Dunno, don’t recon there’s anyone who would though, even if it could happen,” the taller boy shrugged.

“I thought campfires meant fun stories, not Samhain come early.”

“We ain’t little kids anymore, ‘sides you liked it,” he stuck his tongue out, recalling his friend’s childish tendency.

The boy just rolls his eyes before grinning and rummaging through his satchel, “Speaking of not being kids anymore - Happy birthday, Will!”

He holds out something carefully wrapped in a plain cloth.

“Merlin, I told you not to -”

“If you don’t accept it, ma’s gonna be upset,” Merlin cuts him off with a grin, “‘sides, you’re really gonna like it.”

“Insufferable, you are,” Will fakes a grimace before accepting the offering.

“Ooooh, big word there, maybe with age does come intelligence,” Merlin fakes wiping a tear away, “and here I had almost given up hope.”

Will ignores the comment, staring at the delicately shaped pendant in his hand. “Merlin, I,” his voice is thick, the words slow to come, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” his smile softens for a moment, “I told you you’d like it,”

“And the moment’s gone,” Will rolls his eyes even as he slips the cord over his head and tucks the pendant into his shirt, “just for that you get first watch.”

“No fair, i just gave you the best present ever, you should take first watch,” Merlin protests, completely forgetting the fact that they have never kept watch while camping.

“It’s my birthday though,” Will shrugs, biting back a laugh at the look on his best friend’s face.

================================================

“In hindsight, maybe I should have kept watch, when we got up the next morning the squirrels had gotten into our food,” Merlin grins, recalling the walk back to the village with Will chasing after every squirrel he found.

Lancelot laughed, “So, what I’m hearing is that we definitely should keep watch.”

“Can you imagine what Gauis would say if we went back without what he needs,” Merlin shuddered, “And I’d have to tell him what happened, too. I need to maintain some dignity, please.”

Lancelot only laughs harder and both men shift closer to their campfire as a cold wind cuts through the night. The flames flickered causing the shadows of the half bared tree limbs to shift eerily and the fallen leaves rustle softly welcoming their freshly fallen comrades.

Noticing his friend’s nervous scanning of the area, Lancelot nudges him gently, “You worried the blue ghosts are gonna pop up?”

Despite the teasing tone, Merlin can sense his concern and he shakes his head, “It’s fine, ‘s a bit stupid, but that story always freaked me out.”

Lancelot frowned as he draped his blanket over Merlin's boney shoulders, "It's not stupid. It is kinda freaky, but I don’t think they’re anywhere near this mortal plane, and even if they did somehow appear” he smiled reassuringly as Merlin glanced at him, “I’d fight them off.”

Merlin looks at him for a moment before a smile replaces the frown, “Really living up to the chivalrous code, aren’t you,” he lets out a small laugh, “gonna keep being my knight in shining armor?”

Lancelot grins at him, “Yes, and as such, I’ll even take first watch.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin protests, extracting himself from the blanket, “I can take it.”

“Merlin.”

“Seriously, Lance, you don’t have to - you’ve been training non-stop and I know how Arthur can be -”

“Merlin, go sleep, I’m taking first watch,” Lancelot rolls his eyes, “I’m used to this, and you deserve a break.”

================================================

“Merlin! The filling is for the pie not you,” Gwen laughs as she smacks his hand away from the bowl.

“I know that,” Merlin sniffs exaggeratedly, “ I am merely testing it, gotta make sure it’s safe for everyone to eat. And, you know,” he carefully snatches the bowl off the counter, “I really don’t think it is, I should prevent a disaster and eat it myself, spare everyone else.”

“How selfless of you, Merlin,” Gwen snickers, “But, I think everyone will be just fine, as long as you put that into the crust now.”

“Don’t say I didn’t try,” he sighs, complying with Gwen’s order.

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

The sky was clear and the campfire crackled softly, sending up translucent streams of smoke that curled into the pale tree branches.

“This is amazing, Gwen”, Morgana’s soft voice tugged Merlin out of the brief reverie he had slipped into, “Next time, you should let me help you?”

Merlin could hear the smile in his friend’s voice, “I’m going to be making another one tomorrow, you’re more than welcome to come,” she giggled softly, “I’m sure today’s assistant could stand to learn some things from you.”

“I am a perfectly lovely assistant, thank you very much.”

“Of course you are, Merlin,” Gwen patted his arm consolingly, still giggling.

Merlin’s reply was cut off by the sudden sound of clattering armor.

Morgana stiffened, then sighed, “I guess that’s my cue to return before I’m missed.” She stood, smoothing out her dress, royal mask sliding back into place, “Thank you for a lovely evening, I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwen. Goodnight, Merlin.”

“Goodnight, Morgana.”

As she slipped into the crisp autumn night, Merlin stared into the familiar flames, absently running his fingers over a pendant rubbed bright by continuous wear, reflecting the amber glow..

Gwen watched him for a moment before gently placing her hand on his shoulder. Turning slightly, Merlin rested his head against her shoulder, taking her smaller hand in his own.

A little ways off, at the end of a faint path a woodmouse happens upon a feast. Two slices of pie and two cups of apple cider, laid out side by side under a willow tree.

================================================

Lancelot feeds another log to the fire and the flames seem to burn a bit brighter for a moment. Their light makes the pendants hanging from Merlin’s neck glow, and the rings from Gwen’s glitter. The red of the fire makes the red of his cloak, draped over their shoulders, a deeper, warmer shade.

A wreath of Aster and Sedum lie under the willow tree with the woodmouse’s feast.

================================================

It’s not a campfire, not really, but it is a fire and it’s autumn and Lancelot recalls uttering these same words under similar, yet vastly different circumstances.

“Merlin, go sleep, I’m taking first watch,” Lancelot cannot mask the worry in his voice, “I’m used to this, and you deserve a break.”

Over the blanket Merlin has wrapped himself in, Lancelot has draped his cloak, but Merlin is too on edge to find his usual comfort in the gesture.

There is one bed in the little house they entered, and it is occupied by the frozen remains of its former owner. But the fire is warm, casting its protective glow to the corners of the room.

They are jerked out of a light sleep by the shrieking of a dorocha, Merlin immediately bringing the fire back to full flame before they run out of the house.

The dragon is a shock to Lancelot, but he takes it in stride, or at least he hopes he does.

After the immediate danger has passed, they feel lightheaded and Merlin starts to laugh.

Sensing Lancelot’s confused look, he manages to blurt out, “Will really was right after all.”

Confusion gives way to laughter, “On both counts, too. Should have kept a better watch.”

If had Kilgarrah cared to listen, he would have heard the hysteria laced through the sound.

================================================

For the first time in years, Merlin lights the campfire completely alone.

Gwen is safe in Ealdor and although he knows she probably has done it for herself, he still sets out her gifts under the willow tree.

The wind cuts through his thin clothes and Merlin shivers. He’d forgotten to bring a blanket and could not bear to touch Lancelot’s cloak. He cannot stop the tears that escape as he lays down the Sedum and Aster flowers he has gathered.

Tonight, the sound of happy harvesters cuts him more than the cold wind and he feels as lost as the yellow leaves it flings around.

================================================

The fire is warm, and a blue eyed man adjusts the camping kettle hanging over it. There is a soft clinking sound as he moves and for a moment something shines brightly as it reflects the flames, before it is covered again by his red scarf.

There is a container on the ground next to him with a slice of pie in it. On top of the container rests a heap of aster and sedum, which he is slowly braiding into a wreath and around him red and yellow leaves fall.

[6rookie-writer0110]

Don't take my confetti away

Sara Lance x Male Reader Lance

Request- Imagine being Sara Lance younger brother who's also a legend and her and the team finding out you've sleep with a lot of historical figures like Monroe to Cleopatra many queens and Amelia airheart

When you first joined the Legends, your older sister Sara was extremely overprotective of you. You always stayed on the ship with Mick or gave you simple tasks to do. You told her how you felt and she agreed to change. Laurel and Sara did teach you how to fight.

”Guys, we have a mission,” Sara said.

”What kind of mission,” Nate said.

”Cleopatra is using Alexa in 47 BC. In the timeline, Cleopatra changes history and her army with Julius Caesar gets stronger. Now they know there history and they want to change it” Sara said.

”How did she even get Alexa? They don't even have power in that timeline” You said.

”We will find out and stop whoever is helping her. Legends let's get ready. Gideon, take us to Egypt 47 BC” Sara said.

”Yes, Captain,” Gideon said.

Everyone changed clothes and Sara talks about the plan. Get close to Julius and Cleopatra and find out who is helping them. It's extremely hot in Egypt and you are happy that the air conditioner was invented.

Julius and Cleopatra are having a party. The team is watching their movements and who is around them.

”Ray and Ava make sure they don't leave,” Sara said.

”On it,” They said.

”Behrad and Nate keep an eye on Julius and don't lose him,” Sara said.

Nate and Behrad start to follow Julius. While Sara and Ava try to find out who doesn't belong in the timeline.

”You!” Cleopatra yelled.

Sara and others start to worry and they keep an eye on you.

”Y-yes, my queen,” You said.

”What is your name?” Cleopatra asked.

”My name is Y/N,” You said.

”Interesting name. Feed me grapes” Cleopatra said.

”Okay,” You said.

You start to feed her grapes.

”Y/N, keep her busy” Sara said.

Sara and Ava found the person who them the Alexa, Behrad, and Nate try to catch up with Julius because they lost him. Now Sara and Ava went to help them.

”Follow me,” Cleopatra said.

”Okay,” You said.

You and Cleopatra sneaked away from the party. Mick sees you kissing Cleopatra in the hall but he went to find more liquor.

”You are the most beautiful woman, I ever saw,” You said.

She touches your cheek and your chest. She drags you to her chambers, she pushed you on the bed.

”Can I ask you something, my queen?” You asked.

”Yes you can,” Cleopatra said.

She starts to kiss your neck.

”Who gave you the Alexa? The black box” You said.

”Astra Logue, because of Julius. Enough about them. I don't want to talk about them” Cleopatra said.

”Me too,” You said.

She starts to kiss you and it gets heated. You turn off your earpiece, the others are fighting Julius for Alexa.

”Where is Y/N!?!?” Sara yelled.

”He is keeping the Queen of Egypt safe!” Mick yelled.

He covered for you and he knows how you can repay him back.

Much later, Mick told you about the debt and you paid him back with six-packs of beers and upgraded his fire gun. Now his gun has different levels of firepower and he loved it.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

You and the team are in 1953 Hollywood, California and must find out, why Marilyn Monroe isn't an actress. You and the others found Merilyn working at a restaurant. Everyone is excited to meet her but don't want to scare her.

”Ms. Monroe we need to talk with you it's urgent,” Ray said.

”Monroe? You have the wrong person. My name is Norma Jeane” Marilyn said

”You should be an actress, not here working in a restaurant,” You said.

”He is right, you should be an actress,” Sara said.

Marilyn pours more coffee in your cup. She doesn't stop checking you out and you smile at her.

”I saw something that made me change my mind of being an actress,” Marilyn said.

”You can tell us,” Ray said.

She looks around then she starts to whisper.

”I saw someone steal Mr. Bennett’s soul. How can another person do that? After that, I ran away and gave up on my silly dreams of being an actress” Marilyn said.

”We believe you and we will find out what happened,” Nate said.

”Where did it happen?” Sara asked.

”Sunset Blvd 20th century studios,” Marilyn said.

”Let’s go before it kills another person,” Sara said.

Marilyn took you and the others to the company to show where it happened. Everyone expect Mick to start to look for clues. The killer appeared and wants to kill Marilyn.

”That’s him!” Marilyn yelled.

”Your soul is mine” He growled.

You and Sara start to fight him but his friends came to help him. Now everyone is fighting each other and Marilyn is hiding behind the desk. She is watching the fight, but mainly she is looking at you.

”Y/N get her out of here!” Sara yelled.

”On it!” You yelled.

You grabbed her hand and she starts to run. You took her on the wave rider and she is freaking out and you have to calm her down.

”Calm down, I promise you that you are safe here. I won't let anything or anyone hurt you” You said.

”Where am I?” Marilyn asked.

”This is called the wave rider. And we are from the future and we go in different timelines to save everyone” You said.

She is speechless and her mind is racing.

”The future?” Marilyn asked and she laughed.

”I will give you the tour, my lady,” You said.

She smiled and you smiled back at her.

”I’m ready,” Marilyn said.

You give her the tour and you asked about her dreams. She is still holding your hand and she doesn't stop smiling. You did show her the gadgets and she is curious and in shock.

Sara and the others are still trying to stop the enemy.

”Your sister is the Capitan and you go with her to save people from any timeline?” Marilyn asked.

”Yes,” You said.

”Thank you for saving me. I feel safe with you” Marilyn said.

She pressed her lips onto your lips. You smiled big and she giggled.

”Your welcome. Hungry? I will show how this ship can get any food you want” You said.

”Y/N, I will like to see that,” Marilyn said.

Much later, Sara and the others still haven't come back. But you are having sex with Marilyn in your bedroom.

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

Sara is checking the timeline making sure, Marilyn Monroe, Cleopatra, and Amelia Earhart are doing fine. Sara noticed they all have something in common. She told Gideon to call everyone to the lobby. Everyone arrived and they wait for Sara to say something.

”What’s going on? We just came back from a mission and I need to go to the spa” Zari said.

”My little brother apparently has made it in every history book!” Sara yelled.

”So? We all made it in the history books somehow” Nate said.

”He had sex with Amelia Earhart, Marilyn Monroe, and Cleopatra! They are talking about how they are in love with him! Y/N, I told you to save them not to have sex!” Sara yelled.

”Sara, take down a notch. Because you did the same way before you started to date Ava. I don't remember their names but you did have sex with quite a few women. And I did care about them” You said.

”Wait, a minute! Marilyn Monroe loved my book!?” Mick asked you.

”Yeah. She saw the book and she wanted to keep it and I said yes. I hope that is okay” You said.

Mick pat your back hard.

”That's fine with me,” Mick said.

”Woah, I can't believe you had sex with them,” Nate said.

”Who else you slept with?” Behrad asked.

”Besides her, I have slept with Morgana Pendragon, Amelia Earhart, Hedy Lamarr, Gong Li, Anna May Wong, Marie Antoinette, Hatshepsut, Zenobia-”

”Enough!” Sara yelled.

Behrad, Mick and Nate gave you high fives. Sara is annoyed by that and you are smiling.

All-day you and Sara didn't talk to each other. Ava did convince Sara not to be mad at you and Sara knew that Ava is right.

”Hey Y/N,” Sara said.

”Sara Lance,” You said.

You are in your bedroom and she sits in front of you.

”I'm sorry I freaked out, Y/N. I always see you as my little brother and as the older sister, I have to protect you. I'm sorry” Sara said.

”I’m not a little kid. You keep seeing me as a little kid and I hate that. I know since we lot dad and Laurel we only have each other” You said.

”I need to stop seeing you as a little kid because you are not. And you changed a lot for the better. Losing them, broke my world. I don't want to lose you then I have nothing to live for. Y/N, I promise for now on I won't look at you as a little kid anymore” Sara said.

”Hug me you big fool,” You said.

You and Sara laughed and she did hug you.

”I love you, Y/N Lance” Sara said.

”Me too, Sara,” You said and smiled.

[degrassi-fanatic]

Ten Years

Warnings for references to themes of vehicular accidents and substance abuse.

Ten years ago, Arthur had thrown his very first (and last) party in university. Although, party is a generous term, seeing as two of his guests were his roommates (Leon and Percival), one was his sister (Morgana), the other was his boyfriend (Merlin), his ex-girlfriend (Gwen), his ex-girlfriend’s boyfriend (Lance), and his ex-girlfriend’s brother (Elyan). 

So, yes, party is a generous term. Arthur had simply wanted to gather up his close friends and drink until the early hours of the morning, which they did. Drinks were poured and drained under a minute. The bathroom was constantly in use for either peeing or puking. Merlin was sure that he ended up in a different set of clothes than he had arrived in. Eventually, the drinking binge came to an end when their supply did and soon enough the fatigue had settled in. 

The lot of them had come to the unanimous decision that going back to their own apartments wasn’t worth the effort and took it upon themselves to stay the night. Merlin had crawled into his boyfriend’s bed. The tub seemed appealing to sleep in to Gwaine, even after all the bouts of piss and puke that had gone on in the bathroom. Gwen took the couch, while Elyan shoved Leon out of his own bed, forcing the man to room with Percival for the night. 

Morgana didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for a place to sleep seeing as she was the only one sober. Plus, she had told them she had a shift in the morning and decided to save herself the trouble of taking customers’ orders with a hangover. Unlike Lance, who also had to go to work in the morning, but had decided that an alcohol binge was worth it. 

Unfortunately for Lance, there wasn’t an available, comfortable spot for him to sleep, not in Arthur’s cramped apartment. The only option left for him was laying on the kitchen floor for the rest of the night. Taking pity on him, Morgana had simply ushered the man out the door, the two of them shouting their goodbyes.

If Merlin had known that was the last time he would’ve seen Lance, he would’ve made his goodbye count.

The details after that are scant but he knows the gist of it; Morgana had been driving Lance home when a drunk driver had slammed into the passenger seat. Morgana had suffered a broken leg, a concussion, and several fractures in her right arm. 

Lance was dead before the paramedics arrived on the scene. 

The group had taken it hard but Morgana was the one who had it the worst. She had shown up to Lance’s funeral in a drugged out haze, and she spent the next two years in a similar state. Her life had fallen apart. Her grades suffered; she went from an honours student to barely passing. Gwen had to move out of the apartment they shared because she couldn’t handle her addiction. Morgana had lost her job but that didn’t seem to matter to her since she had Uther’s guilt money. Her arms were full of track marks, she had perpetual nose bleeds, and her teeth had begun to rot. 

The last straw was when Morgana had overdosed in her apartment. If it weren’t for Arthur barging into her apartment, they could’ve lost another friend. 

It was a mess. A spectacular one that Morgana didn’t seem to keen on cleaning up. In fact, she hadn’t shown any care after waking up in a hospital room, only asking the nurses when she could go back home. 

It may have only taken several screaming matches to finally get it through Morgana’s head that they needed her alive and healthy but, it had taken a lot of time, patience, crying, yelling, and rehab to get Morgana sober and to have her stay that way. 

It was all worth it though because they all silently came to the agreement that they weren’t going to lose another friend, not if they could help it. 

Now, years later, Morgana was clean, and though the group still remembered Lance, the sharp pain of hearing his name had been dulled to an ache; still there but, less persistent.

Tonight, Arthur had gone out with Leon, Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival to the bar to pour one out in Lance’s honour. It had become their little tradition. It made the rather morose day a little more lighthearted, a little more easier to digest that it had already been another year since their friend died. Both Gwen and Merlin didn’t like to partake in it, the two of them felt like it was an activity reserved for the others. Instead, Gwen would go and visit Lance’s mother, while Merlin would prefer to stay home and flip through old photos of him. 

No one ever knew what Morgana did. She kept her grieving quiet and close to her chest, and none of them bothered to pry either because whatever she did was certainly better than drugs. 

The once pouring rain comes to a lot pattering against the gravel and pavement outside the house. He’s sitting at the dinner table. There are scattered photographs of Lance everywhere; some of when he was only ten, others are of his days in high school and university, and a couple are from the night he died. His fingers trace over Lance’s smiles in each photograph. All of the grins are identical to each and Merlin wonders if Lance would’ve kept the same smile if he got to turn thirty like the rest of them. 

A knock at the door steals Merlin’s attention away. Getting out of his chair, he strides over to the front double doors. As he walks, he hears the knocking get sharper and quicker, the rapping turning into a frenzy. Through the translucent glass panels on the sides of the door, he can see a frantic looking figure. 

His mouth is already forming a playful jibe when he opens the door expecting a drunk Gwaine, only to be stopped as he takes in the sight of Morgana standing at his front door. 

She’s still dressed for work; a pencil skirt, a blouse, a blazer, and a pair of heels. Her dark hair drenched from the heavy rains earlier. Mascara runs down her face. Blood drizzles out from a deep gash on the side of her leg. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes are hazy, in a way that makes Merlin feel like he’s twenty-two again trying desperately to get Morgana sober. 

God, Morgana was only three months short of eight years being clean.

“I killed Lance.” she blurts out, her hands shaking by her sides.

Merlin feels like he’s been hit in his solar plexus. The wind is knocked out of him and he struggles to take in a breath. His whole chest aching at her words. 

Even after ten years, Morgana still blamed herself for Lance’s death. 

He brings out his hand to grant Morgana a comforting touch but she can only flinch. As she takes half a step back, Merlin’s arm falls to his side. 

Not knowing what to say, Merlin simply attempts to usher her inside the house only to have Morgana plant her feet and square her shoulders, not letting herself be budged. 

“I killed Lance.” she declares again, “I was driving and I should’ve seen the driver and I should’ve done something and I—”

Her words are cut off by the gritting of her teeth as if she’s trying not to cry. It’s useless though because not a second later her eyes give out, tears streaming down her face. 

This time when Merlin moves to her inside, she goes easily. An arm wrapped loosely around her shoulders. 

“You didn’t kill Lance.” Merlin whispers.

Once Morgana is in the house, he closes the front door, locking it right after. Merlin squats down by Morgana’s feet as he unbuckles the tiny straps on her heels. He feels her settle a hand on his shoulder as Merlin pulls the shoes off her feet. 

After he’s done, he stands up and guides Morgana towards the guest bedroom. He settles her at the edge of bed in the middle of the room before excusing himself to grab a first aid kit from the ensuite bathroom. He makes his trip quick, afraid to leave Morgana alone for even a short amount of time. 

Returning to the bedroom, he kneels in front of Morgana. With gentle hands, he grabs her injured leg steady as he cleans the wound easily. Within a moment or two, the ugly wound is covered by a white, sterile bandage. Closing the kit, he shoves it behind himself before sitting back on his haunches. He lowers his head to make eye contact with Morgana, who has her chin resting on her chest. 

“Morgana,” he says quietly, “Did you do anything tonight?”

Immediately, her whole body seizes up. Her breathing stops for a second as panic surges through her system.

If Merlin didn’t already know his answer, he did now.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. I didn’t mean to.” she rambles on, “Please, Merlin, I didn’t mean to—”

She looks so frightened. Her eyes wide as she clasps her hand in front of her chest; begging for Merlin to listen to her. 

“I’m not mad.” he reassures as he encircles her wrists with his hands, “Morgana, I’m worried about you.”

The words break something inside of her. Her mouth contorts as she lets out a loud sob. Her eyes squeezing shut as she claws to get out of Merlin’s grasp. Right away, Merlin lets go of her, unwillingly. 

All the tension in her body is released as she leans her elbows onto her knees.

“I wish I died that night.” she cries out, into her hands, “I know you all do.”

His hands seem to be working on their own accord because soon he’s tugging Morgana into a hug. Rubbing her back as he tries to hush her sobs with soft murmurs. 

“No one wants to see you dead.” he whispers into her still wet hair.

It takes some time for her to calm down but eventually, her cries taper off into whimpers and her breathing isn’t as harsh. Merlin still doesn’t let go, though. He won’t, not until Morgana asks him to.

“I’m sorry.” she mumbles into his neck, “I’m sorry that I messed up, that I keep messing up. I’m sorry that I’m more trouble than I’m worth.”

“Morgana,” his hands clamber to the back of her head, cradling him closer, “You’re not too much trouble. And even if you were, I would rather have you alive and pick up behind you, then see you lowered into a grave.”

Not like Lance.

The skin of his throat grows wet with Morgana’s tears.

A silence overtakes the two of them. Not like the ones he shares with the others, the ones filled with comfort and the reassurance that they don’t always need more. 

This silence is filled with tension, the two of them waiting for the other to say something. 

Morgana is the one to break first.

“Please don’t tell Gwen.” she asks brokenly.

Sighing, Merlin brings her up to look her in the eyes. 

“I have to, Morgana.” he says, “She needs to know.”

“Please Merlin. She’ll be so disappointed in me.” she whispers, her voice cracking at the end of her words.

As her breath picks up again, his hands come down to rub soothingly at Morgana’s sides. 

In a minute, Morgana’s breathing evens out again and she can take in air, without gasping. He watches her reluctantly pull away from Merlin’s embrace, though not straying too far. 

Her muscles must be aching, Merlin realizes as she lets out a little groan when she stretches. She must’ve walked all the way here from wherever she was because he didn’t see her car in the driveway and Morgana was not one for impaired driving. Not after Lance. 

Her high still seems to be there but she's cognizant, which means it’ll only take two or so hours for her to reach the border of sobriety and intoxication, if Merlin remembers correctly after all those years. 

“I’ll call her after I take a nap.” she concedes, knowing nothing short of this will convince Merlin.

“I promise.” she adds, after Merlin shoots him a wary look.

He stares at Morgana for a second. Sometimes, he remembers her as two different people. Clean Morgana and Addict Morgana. 

Clean Morgana had her life together. She could go to work and she could have fun and she could look at Gwen without wanting to break down. She could close her eyes and drift off into sleep without worrying about whatever was going to plague his dreams. 

Addict Morgana’s whole life was falling apart at the seams. She was in a constant drugged out haze, and when she wasn’t, she was busy retching up the contents of her stomach, all while she thought about how to get her next fix.

Addict Morgana couldn’t even sober up enough to hold Morgause’s baby.

Right now, as he looks at her, he’s not sure which Morgana he is looking at. Though it doesn’t matter much because he loves Addict Morgana as much as he does Clean Morgana.

Ten years ago, Merlin was the one who had to sit his friends down in Arthur’s tiny living room and tell them that the man they were laughing with just a few hours ago was dead. 

Ten years ago, Merlin was the one who had to sit all of his friends down again in his own cramped apartment and tell them that the woman who used to wrinkle her nose at white wine was shooting up in her bathroom every other day. 

After that, after having the look of anguish on his friends’ faces seared into his memory, Merlin was determined to not be the bearer of bad news. Not again. 

So, hesitantly, he nods. 

A look of relief washes over Morgana’s face before being replaced by one of exhaustion. Soon, she lays back against the bed. She doesn’t bother with the covers. Sweat collects around her forehead and along her neck. 

Fearing overheating, Merlin cracks open the window all the way before he cranks on the ceiling fan. At the cool breeze, Morgana shuts her eyes and lets out a pleasant hum. Still not sure, Merlin decides to take one last measure and fill up a glass of water for her and get a small snack.

When he comes back with water and food, he suspects that Morgana didn’t even notice his absence but he doesn’t bother commenting on it like he would any other day. Instead, he simply sets the glass and the granola bar down on the nightstand.

“If you need anything, I’m in the living room.” he says before turning off the lights. 

The sounds of the fan and the low buzz of the neighbourhood lull her to sleep. Merlin hopes it’s enough to dispel thoughts of disappointing and dying

Morgana shoots up from the bed, chest heaving, sweating profusely. By the sight of the sky outside the window, it couldn’t have been more than an hour since she fell asleep. 

It feels like someone poured ice into her veins and now she’s freezing. Or it feels like she’s been dunked into a vat of hot magma. Everything feels like a juxtaposition of itself and nothing makes sense. 

All she can remember is that she had killed Lance. She remembers looking out the windshield and then turning to look at Lance, only to find him dead.

She killed Lance. 

Her hands scramble to pull out her phone from her blazer, fingers dialing away a familiar number.

Her mind is all over the place. She can’t tell the sheets of the bed apart from the metal of the car wreckage. She can’t figure out if her blouse is wet from Lance’s blood or from her sweat. The days begin to blur together.

The grip on the phone tightens as Morgana swings her legs over the side of the bed. She bounces her knee as she waits for Gwen to pick up. 

The rings seem to have an infinite stretch between each other before the line finally connects.

“Hey Morgana, I was just about to call you.”

“I killed Lance.” she whispers into the phone. 

She hears Gwen shuffle around through the phone. She can even hear Lance’s mother’s laughter through the phone.

God, Morgana should have been paying more fucking attention to the road. She should’ve been able to tell that the driver in the next lane was drunk. Lance and her even joked about it because of the way he was swerving. 

She killed him. She killed her friend. She killed Gwen’s boyfriend. She killed Merlin’s first crush. She killed Elyan’s future brother-in-law. She killed a son, a grandson.

Something in her voice must trigger Gwen’s demeanor to change, going from happy to concerned in milliseconds and light years at the same time. 

“Morgana, where are you? Are you at home?”

“I’m at Merlin and Arthur’s.”

The call ends after that. 

A few minutes or a few hours later, Morgana can’t really tell, she hears Gwen’s car pull up in the driveway. She hears her enter the house. She hears her talk to Merlin in hushed tones, as their footsteps get closer and closer to the bedroom. 

She’s still sat in the same position she was in when Gwen had first picked up the phone. Body refusing to cooperate with her mind. 

When the footsteps are right outside the room, the door opens. Hallway light leaks in behind Gwen, who enters promptly and shuts the door as gently as she can. 

She races towards her, kneeling in front of Morgana. She gathers her up in her arms, hugging her taut against her body. Morgana relishes in the moment, being held by someone she cares about. Unbothered by the way her clinginess must look. 

Too soon, Gwen pulls away, leaving only an inch of space between them. She holds Morgana’s face in her hands, thumbing at her cheekbone. 

“Morgana,” she breathes out, “Are you alright?”

“I’m on drugs.” Morgana blurts out.

Better to rip off the bandage. 

Gwen doesn’t answer her, going silent as she stares at her. She doesn’t rip away either, like she did all those years ago when she first discovered her drug use. 

“I’m sorry.” she mumbles, clutching at Gwen’s wrists, “Please don’t be disappointed in me. I’m really sorry.”

“Morgana, I’m not disappointed. I’m worried about you.”

She doesn’t want to make Gwen worry. She already does too much of it. Always worrying if Elyan is going to his doctor’s appointments, if Gwaine is cutting down on the drinking, if Merlin is getting enough sleep.

She’s always worrying about others. Morgana doesn’t want to be added to that list. 

“I tried to figure it out by myself.” she heaves out, “I tried so hard, Gwen, to be enough.”

Morgana has seen what pain looks like on Gwen’s face. Far too much for her liking. She’s gotten used to, in an almost horrific manner.

Yet nothing could’ve prepared her for the look of utter despair, her face twisting up as she struggles to form the words. 

“Morgana...”

She wishes she could just get better already, so Gwen can get back to more pressing issues in her life. It’s been ten years. Why can’t her stupid brain just shut up?

Maybe she can pretend that she’s okay. Gwen can mention Lance without feeling like she’s going to set Morgana on a bender, and she won’t have to worry about her anymore. 

“I’ll be fine.” she lies, rather unconvincingly. 

“You’re not fine.”

Gwen pulls away from her body, and she can only pathetically whimper as her touch is gone. Even though Gwen ran warm, it was like Morgana’s body had been momentarily cooled by her. 

She stands up from the ground, her arms crossed at her chest, as she watches Morgana.

“I am fine, Gwen. I’ll be okay enough.”

“No, you’re not, Morgana.” she says as she looks at her dismayed, “Okay, you haven’t been for a long time.”

Shakily, Morgana stands as well, her heart ready to plummet out of her stomach. 

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“Listen, you are—  you were clean for a long time.” and the way Gwen corrects herself makes Morgana want to vomit, “But, you never sought out mental health. You never went to therapy.”

“None of you guys did either.”

“None of us were stuck in the driver’s seat, forced to look at their dead friend until help came, either.” she reminds.

Morgana flinches at the memory and Gwen must have seen because she presses a hand to her shoulder to help her relax. 

“I don’t need to go to therapy.” 

“Morgana,” Gwen mumbles as she wades closer to her, “Please? I cannot keep watching you do this to yourself over and over again. Therapy will help. You need to talk to someone.”

“I talk to you.” she responds earnestly.

“No, you don’t.” Gwen denies as she trails her finger against the inside of Morgana’s soaked blazer, “Not about the important stuff.”

Gwen is right. She can’t even lie to herself about it. She never talks about it. Not to her. Not anyone. She’s always worried that if she does one day, she’ll somehow remind everyone how Lance’s death was on her hands. 

She hates herself for thinking it. It’s an irrational thought because none of her friends have ever made her feel like it but, deep down, she knows that at least one of them has to blame her. That at least one of her friends hates her for killing Lance. 

The thoughts swirling around her head have her veins crying out in need, just as they did a couple of hours ago. It seems the needle she plunged didn’t seem to be enough to stop the onslaught of pain that she’s been carrying around in her chest. 

Morgana doesn’t cry again but it’s a near thing. She’s probably too dehydrated considering she’s sweat out all of her fluids and the glass of water that sits on the nightstand is still filled to the brim. 

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” Morgana croaks out, ducking her head down in shame.

“Sure.” Gwen murmurs sadly, knowing that Morgana is lying, “We can talk about it tomorrow.”

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.20

Camelot. Valley. Continued. (Queen Annis heads toward her niece as Morgana turns with a scowl and disappears into Caerleon’s army.) Merida: "What in heaven's name have you done?" Queen Annis: "Hello, Merida. What a pleasant surprise to see you." Merida: "You cannot trust Morgana, she's-" Queen Annis: (Interrupting:) "Allowed me to do what you could not? The once mighty Arthur Pendragon lies dead at my command, not yours. I should always have been the one to claim Dun Broch's throne after Fergus' death." Merida: "I am his daughter and rightful Queen of Dun Broch." Queen Annis: (Scoffs:) "Your people are welcome to you. I have just claimed half of all Camelot in Caerleon's name. You can barely control the members of your own clan." Merida: (When Annis turns to leave:) “Don’t be taken in by Morgana’s fine words. She is consumed by bitterness, it spreads within her like a disease.” Queen Annis: “Have you forgotten how Arthur killed your father? Do you not deny that you sought revenge?” Merida: “Yes, I sought revenge. But that doesn’t mean it was the right thing to do.” Queen Annis: (Laughs with derision:) “You are weak, Merida, as I always thought you were.” (Annis walks away. Hidden in the crowd, Morgana sees Xena and Gabrielle searching for someone. Suspecting that they mean her harm, Morgana turns her attention to Darian and, her eyes glowing, uses her powers on him. Grimacing momentarily, Darian shakes his head. Looking beside him, Darian pulls his long sword from Arthur’s chest and stalks toward his new targets. Spotting Morgana before she disappears further into the crowd, Anastasia turns to see the giant about to split Xena in two with an overhead swing. Thinking quickly, Anastasia uses her powers and Darian's sword disappears mid-swing. Turning to face their attacker, both Xena and Gabrielle draw their weapons.) Gabrielle: "By the gods, he's almost as big as-" Xena: "Grinhilda, I know!" (Ducking a fist from Darian, Xena rolls out of the way. Gabrielle fearlessly jumps onto the behemoth's back but is flung to the ground for her trouble.)

(Xena runs up behind Darian and slashes him across the back. The giant falls to his knees and Gabrielle kicks him down. Xena is poised to strike when soldiers surround them, aiming their crossbows while Agravaine looks on from above. Seeing Xena and Gabrielle stand back to back before being restrained and shackled, Merida surges forward, but is held back by Anastasia.) Merida: (Struggling against her:) “Let me go! We have to help them!” Anastasia: “No! No! We can't help them now. But we can help each other!" (Anastasia waves her hand and they disappear in a cloud of smoke.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Returning from the station, Regina walks along the pathway to admire Emma's handiwork.) Regina: "Hey." Emma: (Turns:) "Hey. Be careful not to trip over any branches." Regina: (Smiles, looking around:) "I'm very impressed." Emma: "Thanks. It's been needing a good going over for awhile now." Regina: "Haven't we all." Emma: (Chuckles:) "You're insatiable." Regina: "Only for you." (They kiss.) Emma: "I've raked the leaves, mowed the lawn and now I'm just finishing up with the hedges." Regina: "Well don't work too hard, you can always just do all this magically." Emma: (Wipes the sweat from her brow with her arm:) "Yeah, I know, but sometimes it's nice to do things the old fashioned way, get a good sweat going." Regina: "I can see that." Emma: (Smiles:) "Don't worry, now that you’re home, I'll use my magic to clear the rest up once I'm done." Regina: "Okay, good. Is Maria sleeping?" Emma: "No, I've got her picking apples from your tree. (When Regina raises an eyebrow:) Relax. (Leans down and picks up the baby monitor:) She went down about half an hour ago." (Tosses it to Regina.) Regina: (Catching it:) "All right well I'll leave you to it. But you know... (Curling her finger into one of Emma's belt loops and pulling her close:) if this is the kind of thing I'm going to be coming home to, I think our retirement is going to be pretty sweet." Emma: "Oh, you have no idea." (They kiss once more, pulling each other close with their free hands as Emma holds the chainsaw in one and Regina cradles Maria's baby monitor in the other.) Forest. Stream. (Lancelot and Guinevere walk along the forest path beside a stream.) Lancelot: “We’re not far now. This stream leads to the lake.” Guinevere: “How did you know?” Lancelot: “I’ve been here many times.” Guinevere: “No, not about the lake. How did you know my feelings for Arthur weren’t real?” Lancelot: “Well... because he’d only been back a day and there was no way you could have possibly forgiven him for those years he kept you by his side against your will.” Guinevere: “Did you suspect, even back then?” Lancelot: “I suppose I always held out hope that you would one day leave him, but I couldn’t have imagined Arthur capable of such an evil act.” Guinevere: “Well, they do say love makes you do strange things. Despite everything that came after, I believe Arthur truly did love me in the beginning.” Lancelot: “What he did to keep you was not an act of love. It was cowardly and unforgivable. Love is about finding someone and thinking about them all the time. It’s about caring about them more than anyone or anything. The Arthur I knew was only ever concerned about his destiny. He never deserved you, Guin.” (Their conversation is cut short at the sound of a rider approaching. Morgana rides through the woods and pulls her horse to a halt at the sight of them.)

Morgana: (Smiles:) “My my. What a delicious coincidence?” Lancelot: “Run Guin! I’ll hold her off.” Morgana: “Aw. How sweet.” (Guinevere begins to run as Lancelot pulls his sword and charges at Morgana. Urging her horse into a gallop, Morgana rides straight at Lancelot. Conjuring a lance into her hand at the last moment, Morgana almost decapitates Lancelot with it, knocking him down to land hard on the forest floor, unconscious. Laughing, Morgana drops the lance and turns her attention towards Guinevere.) A Short Distance Away. (Guinevere dashes through the forest, passing a tree and inadvertently snaps one of its branches in her rush. Morgana continues her pursuit and stops to look for any signs. Spotting the snapped branch, Morgana smiles and heads off in that direction.) Storybrooke. Granny's Diner. (Snow White and Henry sit together in a booth while Henry wears a stunned expression on his face.) Henry: "You're not serious?" Snow White: "Well why not? I'd say you'd be uniquely qualified for the position." Henry: "How did you come to that conclusion?" Snow White: "Henry, you've literally written the book on everyone in this town. Plus, growing up with Regina, you must have sat in on your fair share of Town Hall meetings?" Henry: "Yeah and I was bored out of my mind through all of them. I'm sorry, Grandma, but I'm not the guy you want to run as mayor." (Henry stands.) Snow White: "Promise me you'll at least think about it. It would mean working shorter hours and a heck of a lot less time spent in your car." Henry: "Hey, the taxi service might be a dead end job but at least it has the possibility of excitement. Listening to people complain all day and then going blind doing paperwork is about as far from where I wanna be as I can think of." Snow White: (Slides out of the booth:) "All right, so where do you want to be?" Henry: "I don't know... off on an adventure with my fiancee somewhere. As a matter of fact, I'm only back driving because Ella and I couldn't decide on where we should start looking for one."

Merlin: "I might be able to point you in the right direction." (Snow White and Henry both turn to look at the Sorcerer who sits alone at a table.) Henry: "You know where Ella and I can find ourselves an adventure?" Merlin: "Yes. I believe I know just the place." Henry: "That's great. Where is it?" Merlin: "Ah. Before I tell you, you must first do something for me." Henry: (Looks to Snow White who is unsure about this:) "All right, what is it?" Merlin: "You must promise me that you won't tell your mothers I had anything to do with aiding you on your quest." Henry: (Smiles:) "Deal." Swan-Mills House. (Regina checks in on Maria who's still sleeping soundly, laying on her back with her arms up over her head. Smiling, Regina wonders just what her child could be dreaming about. Although not prone to crying like her big brother was at this age, Maria would nevertheless refuse to sleep alone during Emma's prolonged absence. Indeed, Regina would often find herself watching Maria drift off on those sleepless nights they shared a bed. The fact that on the night of Emma's return, Maria resumed sleeping in her cot without fussing once, only helped confirm Regina's theory that her daughter didn't much like the idea of her mother spending her nights alone. Backing out of the room, Regina leaves the door ajar and heads towards the staircase. Stopping at the large window that overlooks the garden, Regina notices that Emma is still hard at work. Captivated at the sight of the muscles in her wife's arms flexing, accentuated by the perspiration glistening in the sunlight, Regina sinks down onto the window seat to continue watching the show.)

Forest. Continued. (Guinevere runs at full speed now as Morgana gallops through the woods. Guinevere falls, but gets up quickly and keeps going only for Morgana to catch up and cut her off.) Morgana: “Guin. Nice to see you again. Oh, you’ve forgotten. I’ve hunted these woods since I was a child.” Guinevere: “Morgana, please, we were friends once, were we not?” Morgana: “You misunderstand me. I only wish to help. The path to Camelot is that way.” (Morgana points.) Guinevere: “It’s you who has forgotten it seems. I know these woods, too.” Forest Road. Past. (Morgana and Guinevere ride through the woods with an escort.) Morgana: “You look troubled, Guin.” Gunivere: “I’m fine.” Morgana: “You’re very secretive these days. I’m beginning to think there’s a man involved.” Guinevere: (Scoffs:) “When do I get to meet any decent men?” (Suddenly, their party is attacked.) Sir Robert: “My ladies, you must follow me!” (The knight is shot in the back. Guin and Morgana are pulled off their horses. A knight kills the men holding them.) Morgana: “Guin! Head for the path! Go! (Guinevere and Morgana run up the hill, but Kendrick is waiting for them:) I warn you. I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon. He’ll have your heads if any harm comes to me.” Kendrick: “I have no intention of harming you. At least not yet. You’re much more valuable to me alive, Lady Morgana.” Bandit’s Camp. (Morgana and Guinevere observe the bandits from inside a tent.) Morgana: “He’s coming. You know what you must do?” (Guinevere nods.) Kendrick: “I trust you are comfortable?” Morgana: “I demand to know where you’re taking us.” Kendrick: “You’ll find out soon enough. We’ve a long journey ahead of us. Get some rest.” (Kendrick turns to leave, but Morgana walks out of the tent after him.) Morgana: “I wish to bathe.” Kendrick: “You wish to bathe?” Morgana: “I am the King’s daughter and accustomed to certain standards. I am sure you are quite contented to stink like a pig, but I am not.” Kendrick: (Speaks loudly so his men can hear:) “The Lady Morgana wishes to bathe! Who wants to help me guard her?” (Coarse laughter rises from the men.) A Short Time Later. (Morgana begins to undress by a stream, two men guarding her and Guinevere.) Kendrick: “You may find the water a little icy.” Morgana: “I’m sure I’ll manage. (Glances over to see one of the men holding on to Guinevere’s arm. To Kendrick:) If you were any kind of gentleman, you’d give me some privacy.” Kendrick: “Well, unfortunately for you I am no kind of gentleman. Now get on with it.” (Kendrick chuckles and moves closer to her. Morgana removes her outer garment and the second bandit lets go of Guinevere to get a closer look himself.) Morgana: “You can at least turn your backs.” Kendrick: “So you can make a run for it. Do you think I’m that stupid?” Morgana: “I think you’re very stupid. (Guinevere pulls Kendrick’s sword and Morgana hits him, Guinevere tosses her the sword and Morgana slashes both men. To Guinevere:) Run! (The men pursue them through the woods:) No, no, this way!” (Guinevere stumbles and twists her ankle, Morgana stops and goes back to her.) Guinevere: “Run!” Morgana: “Put your arm around my shoulder, come on!” Guinevere: “No, no, no. We’ll never outrun them, you must go on without me!” Morgana: “I’m not leaving you behind!” Forest. Present. (Morgana smiles at the memory.) Morgana: “I remember very well. Truth is, it doesn’t matter which way you go. As long as you’re around, the people will always love you more.” Guinevere: “Morgana, please...” Morgana: “I can’t say I blame them really. You are far too delicate a soul to be mixed up in all this, Guin. I think it’s time to take you off the chessboard and release you from your burdens. (Not sticking around to find out what Morgana means by that, Guinevere starts running. Morgana’s eyes glow and Guinevere screams as she is thrown against a tree. Guinevere falls to the ground, unconscious. Moving her horse to stand over Guinevere:) Nu bebiede ic þe þæt þu lætest þine flæsc sclice gelic nysse. Wyrþ deor!” (Morgana’s eyes glow and a golden shimmer glows over Guinevere’s body. Morgana leaves with a smirk.)

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Pleased at a job well done, Emma waves her arms in all directions, magically sending all the garden debris into the recycling bin. Brushing her hands together, Emma starts whistling a familiar tune while she gathers up her gardening tools. Her arms now fully laden, Emma turns around to walk back up the path when she catches sight of a vision sitting in the upstairs window. Emitting a long appreciative whistle, Emma drops the tools noisily to the ground as she stares up at Regina, who is clad only in her underwear where any passerby could see her.) Window. (Smiling at Emma's reaction, Regina crooks her finger at her, indicating that she should come inside.) Outside. (Smiling at her wife's brazenness and not needing to be invited twice, Emma walks towards the house.) Forest. (Merida walks several paces ahead of Anastasia, clearly agitated.) Anastasia: (Stops walking:) "So you're pissed at me, is that it?" Merida: (Rounding on her:) "I am furious at you. How could we just leave them there?!" Anastasia: "If we had stayed, we'd be prisoners too." Merida: "Not necessarily. We could have fought. You could've used your magic to-" Anastasia: "To what? Blast the soldiers out of our way?" Merida: "Well it would've been something!" Anastasia: "I understand full well that you only invited me into this little gang of yours because I have magic. But if I used it as callously as you think I should, wouldn't that make me just as bad as Morgana? (Merida says nothing:) You know I'm right." Merida: "Yeah, but I don't have to like it." Anastasia: (Smiles:) "Come on, it'll be getting dark soon and I'm starving. What say you catch and I cook?" Merida: (Softening:) "I wouldn't hold your breath, there doesn't look to be any signs of life out here." Anastasia: "Well, I could always give you a five minute head start, Merida." Merida: "Funny." Anastasia: (Spots movement in the bushes:) "Deer!" (They chase after a doe running through the woods. Splitting up, Anastasia slows to a walk while Merida carries on ahead. She spots the doe and it looks at her. Anastasia senses something and hears Guinevere’s weeping. Anastasia realises what’s happened when she sees Guinevere’s running reflection as the doe passes by a small puddle. Merida arrives and passes Anastasia before taking aim.) Merida: “Well aren’t you a beauty?” (Coming to her senses too slowly to react, Anastasia watches in horror as Merida fires.) Anastasia: “No!”

[toocool2btrue]

All you need is Strength, Loyalty and Magic

Chapter Three: The White Lily

The swords clashed against one another and Lancelot took a step back panting heavily as he looked up to meet Arthur’s eyes. The king didn’t look any better, his face was red with exertion but there was fire in his cool blue eyes. Neither of them was ready to give up just yet and hence the fight continued. “I love this,” Gwaine declared, taking a bite of his apple as he watched the training take place from the sidelines. “I know! Both of them are so skilled. I can’t seem to figure out who will win” Merlin whispered from beside him, his eyes keenly following the fight.

“It’s not just that. This whole scene feels like I am watching a scene out of a poem, two men who are in love with the same woman fighting each other. You can practically feel the tension between them” Gwaine giddily stated as Merlin punched his shoulder, “You idiot! I told you that in confidence. Stop announcing it here!” he hissed. Gwaine heartily chuckled, “Ok but still as if it isn't obvious on it’s own. I now understood why I myself never stood a chance, who would want to go against such a handsome man and...Arthur” Gwaine disdainfully stated. “Honestly speaking...he hasn’t got a lot going for him but at least he is the King” Gwaine chuckled and Merlin found himself laughing as well.

“Speaking of which..” Gwaine said, nudging Merlin’s shoulder. “What’s going on between Gwen and Arthur? I have barely seen them together” He added and Merlin’s brows rose up in surprise, he forgot how dangerously observant Gwaine could be. “I don’t know” Merlin replied, shrugging his shoulders. He really hadn’t got the time to notice such things, it had become busier than usual with Arthur’s extra duties as King, his apprenticeship with Gauis and now the nightly hangouts with his friends. Gwen had her hands full as well ever since Arthur had made her the head of the royal household. “They are perhaps too busy with their duties. You should see Arthur at dinner, he can barely keep his eyes open but other than that I am sure everything is just fine” Merlin assured. By the time they turned back to the fight, Arthur had managed to defeat Lancelot but as opposed to what Gwaine had stated, there existed no grave tension among them and Arthur’s eyes glinted with pride at his knight’s progress.

“You are up next, Gwaine!!” Arthur shouted, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Finally!” Gwaine grinned as Merlin handed him his sword. “I will avenge you, dear friend” He said to Lancelot, who slowly walked towards them. Lancelot gave Gwaine a small smile, gratefully accepting the glass of water from Merlin. “Well I already exhausted him so your part will be easy” he cheekily stated, swiftly avoiding Gwaine’s playful punch whilst throwing a wink at Merlin. “Well I think you did great! I was pretty sure Arthur was gonna lose but then again-” Merlin abruptly stopped his babbling when he realized that Lancelot wasn’t even listening. There was a far off look in his eyes and when he followed his best friend’s gaze, he spotted Gwen standing several feet away from the training observing Gwaine and Arthur fight.

“You lost on purpose didn’t you?” Merlin questioned, narrowing his eyes. Lancelot jumped at his accusation, his cheeks flushed for being caught red handed but he still stubbornly shook his head. “No! Arthur’s just fought better than me” he excused, his eyes dancing around the surroundings in effort to avoid Merlin’s gaze. Merlin sighed, deciding to give his hopelessly in love yet devoted to his King friend a break. “So do you think Gwaine will be able to avenge you?” Merlin asked, nudging his shoulder. Lancelot smirked in response, “Well I certainly hope so”                            ________________________________________

 “So you see sister” Morgause grinned, as Lancelot’s face flashed in the crystal ball. “Sir Lancelot is Arthur’s most trusted knight and even one of his closest friends. There is no way Arthur would ever suspect him being the traitor to Camelot” Morgause informed, turning back to Morgana who smiled in agreement. “Even Arthur’s nosy manservant, Merlin is awfully fond of the commoner and would never go against him but..sister your plan has a great flaw to it. Lancelot would never willingly join us and betray Arthur” Morgana protested.

“Who says there will be any will involved?” Morgause smirked. “We will torture him till his mind breaks and then he will become nothing more than a puppet who will do our bidding” she explained. A faint shiver went down Morgana’s spine at Morgause’s cold words. “How will you lure him here?” she questioned and in response Morgause smirked. “If Arthur has Lancelot, that doesn’t we lack when it comes to loyal servants. Dear sister, it's time you meet my most gifted disciple”

“Elaine!” Morgause shouted at the cave’s entrance. “Come inside” she ordered and Morgana’s eyes widened in surprise when a girl around her age stepped inside, she had long strawberry blonde hair which strung into loose curls and captivating dark brown eyes. “My lady, you called for me?” Elaine asked softly, her voice was barely more than a whisper. Morguase nodded, “Dear Elaine, I have finally a mission that is worthy of your talents. Go to Camelot and lure Sir Lancelot to the abandoned castle. We will be waiting for you there”

“I’ll do as you desire” Elaine promised, the determination evident in her eyes as she bowed to Morguase. Morgana could see the pride evident in Morgause’s eyes, who stepped forward and handed Elaine a silver pendant. “This will greatly aid you in your quest now...don’t fail me” Morguase warned with a sudden flick of anger. “I would rather die” came the unwavering reply.

                                                               _________________________________________

 “You know what’s the best thing about being a knight?” Gwaine asked Elyan as they walked through the markets. Elyan quirked up a brow in amusement as he tried to balance the basket of fresh fruits he had received alongside the other small trinkets. “The honor of fighting alongside your King?” he teased. “No the free gifts!!” Gwaine protested, stealing another red apple from Elyan’s basket. “Hey! you have your own” Elyan reminded, his eyes narrowing towards Gwaine’s own supply.

“If I eat from mine then I’ll run out before midday besides it’s not like you actually like apples” Gwaine reminded him. “I don’t but they are Gwen’s favourite and she will be very happy to see them” Elyan explained. Gwaine slumped in defeat, “Fine keep your fruits. I’ll just go and get Lancelot's share” Gwaine decided, walking towards his other friend who was trying to kindly decline the baker’s offer of freshly baked bread. The knights of Camelot were already adored by the common people but it was no secret that the people held a special regard for those knights who once used to be commoners themselves. Whenever they visited the market on a day off, they were showered with various gifts ranging from food, at times fruits from foreign lands and even materials for clothes. Gwaine and Elyan wholeheartedly accepted each present while Lancelot and Percival were more reluctant in that matter. If by chance, the gift was being given by a fair maiden then Lancelot would kindly refuse to take it without a second thought leaving many young women heartbroken. Today would have been no different if Gwaine didn’t intervene. It all started when the pair was bickering about the fruits, “All I am saying is that I am willing to trade you the apples for your share of strawberries and black berries” Lancelot stated.

Gwaine huffed in annoyance, flicking his hair back. “You didn’t even want to take the fruit basket. Why all the deals now?” Gwaine wondered. “I didn’t know at first that it contained strawberries and blackberries before. Those are Merlin’s favorite” Lancelot informed and Gwaine’s face lit in remembrance. “Well if it’s for Merlin then I am willing to compromise” Gwaine agreed. Lancelot rolled his eyes bringing his basket forward, “How noble of you, Sir Gwaine” he sarcastically stated but before the exchange could take place, the pair was interrupted by a soft cough.

The friends turned around to find a beautiful young woman standing before them. At first the pair parted, making space for her to go pass them but she made no effort to do so. Instead she stood there with a nervous look in her eyes and that's when Gwaine noticed the bouquet of white lilies clutched tightly in her hands. He briefly glanced at his friend who seemed equally enchanted by the maiden before them and even she shyly glanced in Lancelot's direction in return. It was clear for whom the flowers were meant for, "Sir Lancelot.." she finally began, clearing her throat in nervousness. "Please accept these flowers as a token of gratitude for your services" she stated, pushing the bouquet towards him. By now Lancelot was broken from his enchantment and just as he was about to shake his head, Gwaine decided to step in. He had already heard Merlin's theory of Lancelot purposely losing and was tired of seeing his friend in such emotional distress.

"Would you give us a moment?" he interrupted, dragging his friend away. Lancelot felt deeply puzzled by his actions, "What are you doing?" he hissed at Gwaine. "Saving you from making another stupid mistake. Look Lance I know you are noble and all but why the hell do you reject every girl that shows interest in you?" he cried out in frustration.

"You already gave up Gwen for her happiness. What's stopping you from achieving your own? Are you waiting for Gwen? Do you want her to leave the freaking King and come to you?" Gwaine furiously questioned as Lancelot vigorously shook his head. "No I would never dream of that" he sincerely stated as his cheeks turned slightly pink. "Then are you making yourself go through this emotional torture. You literally have one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen, offering you flowers. You go there and accept those flowers!” Gwaine ordered.

“But-” Lancelot began to protest but Gwaine’s glare was enough to shut him up. His friend was only looking after him, Lancelot couldn’t disagree with his logic either, it was a high time that he tried to move on and as he glanced back at the lady, their eyes met and once again Lancelot found himself going brain going blank, all thoughts and worries were erased from his mind and nothing else in the world seemed to matter aside from the fair lady in front of him. “Fine” he agreed, sparingly glancing at Gwaine before walking towards her.

Gwaine him with a wide grin on his face as Lancelot accepted the lilies and then kissed the top of the maiden's hand in gratitude. The maiden blushed furiously, radiating with happiness. After that they talked briefly and Gwaine had to admire his friend's skills, for a guy who was so reluctant a few seconds ago now was quite smoothly able to converse with his admirer. Gwaine made his way to Elyan and Percival who seemed frozen in shock at the sight. “Please don’t tell me this is all part of a dream, I really like my gifts” Elyan groaned. Percival numbly nodded in agreement, He had known Lancelot the longest and yet never seen him act like this before.

Gwaine grinned wider, crossing his arms against his chest. He couldn’t wait to tell Merlin what he had managed to accomplish.

Read what happens next on

[cupcakezys]

Fun challenge for you! (If you wanna do it): Re-write an Arwen scene to Merthur😉

Oooooo yes! Sorry this took a while, I just had so many different ideas and life did not want to give me a break to write any of them. Also, I know you said an Arwen scene… but I might have written a little more than that. So have this way-bigger-than-I-meant-it-to-be fic. ^_^

Read on AO3.

Merthur under the cut!

“I can’t believe you convinced me to stay with you.” Arthur groaned, looking around Merlin’s tiny room. “Was there nowhere else I could stay?”

Merlin rolled his eyes and shoved his semi-clean tunics back into his closet. “We need to keep you out of sight, and Gaius may not know you’re here but he does know your magical beast is about as real as-“

“Your serving skills?” Arthur asked, amused, as he lifts an old bowl Merlin had been meaning to clean for weeks now. The inside had turned a slight red from the soup that had been in it. “Truly, Merlin, this is disgusting. You can’t expect me to stay here.”

Merlin, having spotted his magic book peeking out from under his bed, dived for it, feigning grabbing for his fallen pillows. “You really can’t go without your big bed and your soft pillows? Maybe I could ask Gwen if she’d let you stay with her, or we could hide you in Morgana’s chambers if you really can’t live without your precious royal bed.”

Arthur’s face pinched and he turned away from Merlin, allowing him to grab the book and throw it into the bottom of his closet. He breathed a silent sigh of relief and went back to fixing his bed.

“This will be fine.” Arthur finally said, tense like Merlin was telling him he needed to walk through hot coals.

He rolled his eyes. “Prat.”

Arthur pretended not to hear him. “How are the preparations coming along? Have we found someone to play our knight in the tournament?”

We, he said, like it wasn’t Merlin doing all the work. “Absolutely. He’s a farmer from one of the outlying villages, and no one will recognise him.”

Arthur didn’t look convinced. “But does he look the part?”

Merlin shrugged. “Well…”

“Merlin.” Arthur hissed the moment he opened his bedroom door, making him drop the large pile of washing in his arms, and gods, why did he have to do that.

“What?” He snapped, irritated. He’d only half cleaned the leech tank and still had to do the laundry and scrub the floor. His knees hurt just thinking about it.

“Do you think anyone suspects us?”

Merlin sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Arthur had taken it the first night, and though Merlin could have complained and gotten it back, he didn’t. Arthur had offered to sleep on the floor the instant he’d seen Merlin lay down, of course, because he may be a prat, but he was a noble knight too. Merlin had refused and gotten a pillow to the face, Arthur’s laughter following him into sleep.

Now he shifted so he was facing Arthur, just barely able to make him out in the darkness. “I doubt it. From what Gwen’s told me, the ladies of the court are quite impressed with Sir William. They think he’s very handsome.”

Arthur snorted. “Typical. He wouldn’t know a real knight if he whacked him round the head with his lance.”

Merlin shook his head, though he couldn’t stop the grin crawling onto his face. “Is all this really worth it?”

Arthur sighed. “Yes. I don’t expect you to understand, but when I’m competing as William, my title doesn’t matter, nobody gives me any special treatment. So when I win this tournament-if I win this tournament, it will be because I deserve it and not because I am Prince Arthur.”

“I think I understand.” Merlin said, though he wished he didn’t. If Arthur’s status as the future king of Camelot kept him from harm then Merlin wasn’t complaining. He hesitated a moment, but Arthur didn’t say anything more, so he stood. “I need to finish these chores for Gaius.”

Arthur sighed, tired and quiet. Merlin gathered his washing and slipped from the room, careful not to wake him.

Merlin startled awake to Gaius standing over him, eyebrow raised, and his head pounding from a night spent sprawled uncomfortably on the floor. A quick glance outside showed the late morning sun shining brightly in the sky. Arthur would have left by now, nervous as he had been this whole tournament. Merlin wasn’t sure why he hadn’t woken him, but he knew he’d be in for it when he went down to the tournament grounds today.

“Merlin, on your feet.” Gaius said sternly. “Arthur may be away, but I’m not. And why is my leech tank still dirty? Where do you get the idea you can sit around all day doing nothing?”

“Wha-?” Merlin pushed himself up, irritation and anger born from all the stress and exhaustion of the past few days rising up before he could stop it. “Do you think I sit around doing nothing?! I haven’t had a chance to sit around and do nothing since the day I arrived in Camelot! I’m too busy running around after Arthur! Do this, Merlin! Do that, Merlin! And when I’m not running around after Arthur, I’m doing chores for you! And if I’m not doing that, I’m fulfilling my destiny! Do you know how many times I’ve saved Arthur’s life?”

Gaius opened his mouth, but Merlin didn’t give him the chance to say anything. He was too angry, and it was like a dam had been broken within him. He didn’t think he could stop himself now, even if he wanted to.

“I’ve lost count. Do I get any thanks? No. I have fought griffins, witches, erm- bandits! I have been punched, poisoned, pelted with fruit, and all the while I have to hide who I really am, because if anyone finds out, Uther will have me executed! Sometimes I feel like I’m being pulled in so many directions, I don’t know which way to turn!”

He was panting by the end of his rant, and all of a sudden he felt exhausted. Gaius was looking at him like he’d never seen him before, but Merlin didn’t feel like talking anymore, let alone apologising, so he spun on his feet and all but ran for his room. He slammed the door behind him and all but collapsed against it.

He heard a door close, knew Gaius had left, and sighed.

Then promptly screamed when he opened his eyes and saw Arthur sitting in his bed, hair sleep tousled and eyes wide.

He clapped his hands over his mouth. “How much did you hear?”

Arthur blinked. “Why would my father have you executed?”

“Arthur-!” Merlin stepped forward, only to jerk back when Arthur flinched, reaching for a sword he didn’t have.

“Are you a spy?” Arthur hissed, more awake now, and Merlin panicked.

“No! I was just- I was born differently. In a way that the king wouldn’t approve of.” He wanted to run, rather than have this conversation.

But Arthur was staring at him in confusion, and Merlin knew if he ran now he might never get the chance to explain himself. He wasn’t sure if it would even matter, if he could lie his way out of this one, but he had to try.

Arthur frowned. “You were born- what, because of magic? Some sort of spell?”

“No.” Merlin shivered, his voice dropping to a whisper. He didn’t even think, too caught up in his earlier anger and the panic now making his heart pound. “Arthur. I was born with magic.”

He immediately clamped his hands back over his mouth. Damnit. Curse his stupid mouth for speaking before he could think. Fear crawled up his back as he watched the prince closely.

Arthur blinked twice before he slowly shook his head. “No. You don’t- I would know if you had magic!”

“I’ve had to hide it all my life, for fear of what would happen if the wrong person found out.” Merlin swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. “If your father found out. How was I supposed to tell you?”

They stared at each other for a long time, until Arthur grabbed his cloak and pulled it around himself. Merlin pressed himself into the door as Arthur approached him, and hated that Arthur refused to even look at him.

“Move.” Arthur growled.

Merlin shivered. “What are you going to do?”

Arthur’s jaw twitched. “I have a tournament to win.”

“O-oh.” He slid out of the way, shoulders hunched, as Arthur slipped past him.

Arthur paused. “Your services are no longer required.”

And then he was gone, and Merlin collapsed onto the ground, heart shrivelling in his chest.

Merlin wondered the marketplace in a daze. He had no idea where Gaius was. He suspected he was at the tournament – watching in case anyone got hurt, ready to tend the stupid, bull-headed knights that liked to stab at each other with sharp objects.

Merlin didn’t know for sure. He couldn’t know for sure, because he refused to go anywhere near the tourney grounds. The risk of running into Arthur wasn’t too high, considering the prince was pretending to be away on a mission, but still Merlin didn’t want to risk it. He was afraid of what he might do – whether he’d beg Arthur to forgive him or scream at him for being such a prat when it was Merlin that had to live his life in fear.

No, it was best to stay far away, and that was why he was wondering the marketplace, a bag full of his belongings over his shoulder, as he contemplated leaving.

He wasn’t sure he actually could. Camelot had become his home this past year, and he was reluctant to leave it, whether Arthur hated him or not. He didn’t want to leave Gaius, or Gwen, or Morgana, and who knew how long Kilgharrah might have to wait alone in the dark before someone made their way down to his cave and spoke to him again. The old dragon might have been selfish and just a little manipulative, but Merlin couldn’t imagine spending twenty years alone in the dark, and the idea of leaving anyone to that fate made his gut twist uncomfortably.

On the other hand, if Arthur truly did hate him now, could he trust him to keep his secret? Merlin didn’t know, and it was both terrifying and infuriating. If Arthur couldn’t see all that Merlin had done for him, maybe he wasn’t the once and future king Kilgharrah had foretold he would be.

Maybe he wasn’t everything Merlin had believed him to be.

“Merlin?” A voice called, startling him out of his thoughts.

He jerked around. “Gwen?”

She hurried over to him, a basket in her arms, and Merlin idly wondered what was in it. “What are you doing here? I thought you were helping Sir William.”

Merlin felt his smile turn forced. “He didn’t need me today.”

“Does that mean you missed his bout against Sir Leon?’

Merlin didn’t want to be curious, but he was. “Why? What happened?”

Gwen bit her lip. “Well, he looked really distracted. Sir Leon almost unseated him twice before Sir William managed to catch him in the side and knock him off. He made it into the final.”

Merlin released a quiet breath. “That’s good.”

“I also happened to pass by his tent after the match.” Gwen said, in that knowing way of hers, and Merlin immediately winced.

“Gwen-“

She held up a hand. “It’s alright. He explained. I mean, I understand, to an extent, why but- I mean obviously I couldn’t ever really understand why, I’m not a knight but- you know what I mean.”

Merlin smiled, a real one this time, even if it was only small. Trust Gwen to cheer him up by just being herself.

“He also asked me the best way to apologise to someone he cared for.” She glanced at him meaningly, then chuckled to herself. “Well, he asked in his own way, without asking.”

Merlin swallowed thickly, his throat suddenly dry. “What did you say?”

“I told him that actions speak louder than words, and if he really wanted to apologise he should do something to prove it.” Merlin would be surprised that Gwen had spoken up to the Prince of Camelot, but he knew how determined she could be when allowed the courage to speak freely. Arthur wasn’t someone she needed to hold her tongue around. “So he came up with a plan.”

Merlin leaned close, trying to ignore the way his heart was beating faster by the second. “And what is this grand plan of his?”

Gwen grinned. “He’s going to cook you dinner.”

Merlin jolted. That he was not expecting. “He’s… cooking? Arthur?”

Gwen nodded, almost laughing now, and Merlin had to wonder if this was all some elaborate prank.

Then he imagined Arthur, Prince of Camelot, cooking him dinner, and the fear for Gaius’s tower had him sprinting for the castle.

Merlin only slowed when he reached the bottom of Gaius’s tower. He could hear the faint sounds of cursing coming from the top, and although Gaius should be making potions for tomorrows patients, he suspected his mentor wasn’t the one currently condemning all chickens to an eternity in hell.

He pushed open the door slowly, almost afraid of what he would see.

Thankfully, nothing was on fire. Arthur stood in the corner of the room by the fire, a raw chicken in his hands, and as Merlin watched he frantically tried to find a way to dispose of the chicken in the fire. Eventually the prince threw it in the empty cooking pot and turned back to the rest of the room.

Two dinners from the palace kitchens sat on the bench, and Merlin wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or disappointed.

Looking at Gaius’s still-intact rooms, he decided he was very relieved.

He swallowed and opened the door. “Gwen told me you were cooking.”

Arthur jumped and glanced up at him, guilt and just a touch of fear on his face before he swallowed it back behind his princely mask. “Merlin.”

He inclined his head to the dinners on the table. “You’re not cooking.”

Arthur glanced at it and grimaced. “Look, I can kill a chicken from a thousand paces, just don’t ask me to cook it. That’s what servants are for.” Merlin raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. Arthur winced. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Merlin sighed and pushed the door closed behind him. “I’m not ashamed to be a servant. I told you before, didn’t I? I’m happy to be your servant until the day I die.”

Arthur made a small, strangled sound. “Why?”

Merlin turned around and shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable. “Because I believe in the world you will build.”

“Even though you’re a sorcerer?”

Arthur’s voice was tense, hard, but it wasn’t cold like Merlin had feared.

“Yes.” Merlin met Arthur’s eyes, the first time he had since he had admitted his secret, and was surprised to find Arthur unwilling to look away. “I know you will create a land free and full of peace, a world where ordinary people no longer have to fear for their lives and the rulers of Albion don’t fight each other, but join together to create a golden age of prosperity unlike any other.”

He shifted, looked at his feet as his hands clenched behind his back.

“Even if you never learned of my magic.” He whispered. “Even if it was still banned and you only ever believed it was evil, I would still believe in you. I would still protect you, no matter the cost.”

This time, Arthur sounded a little bit awed, and a little bit broken when he spoke. “How can you be so sure?”

Merlin simply smiled at his boots, a sad thing, and shook his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Arthur moved forward slowly, giving Merlin plenty of time to move away. He didn’t. A hand rested on his shoulder, another on his chin, tilting his head up gently, and Merlin didn’t resist. Arthur’s eyes were a storm this close, all dark and deep and blue.

He swallowed, and saw Arthur do the same.

“I know I have much to learn. There are some things that I am terrible at – cooking being one of them, and knowing what to say to someone I care about.” He sucked in a breath. “And also apologising when I know I’ve done wrong.”

Merlin’s breath stuttered. “Arthur-“

“Let me finish.”

Merlin hesitated. He’d never heard Arthur sound like that. Like he was begging. He nodded, as much as the fingers on his jaw would allow.

“I’ve had some time to think. About what I heard, and what you said.”

Merlin was tempted to ask about the bout with Sir Leon, but he’d promised to let Arthur finish, and he was almost afraid to interrupt him now, in case this was all a dream.

I’m sorry.” Arthur whispered, and Merlin had to wonder if that was the first time Arthur’s lips had ever formed the words. “I’m sorry you grew up with such fear. I’m sorry you still live with it, every day. I’m sorry it was my farther that forced you to live a life of hiding. And most of all I’m sorry I made you feel too unsafe to tell me.”

Merlin, embarrassingly, felt tears welling up in his eyes. “And I’m sorry I lied to you. I know it hurt you.”

Arthur nodded, accepting the apology easily, and then he released a shaky breath. “Your magic-“

His voice seemed to give out on the word, like he couldn’t force the rest of his sentence past it. Merlin understood. It was difficult, terrifying even, speaking of magic in the heart of Camelot without condemning it.

“My magic?” Merlin prompted, because he needed to hear what Arthur was going to say.

Arthur licked his lips nervously and moved away. Merlin’s chin tingled where his fingers used to be.

“I know you’re not evil. I know if it’s yours then the magic isn’t bad.” Arthur forced out, and now it was his turn to avoid eye contact. “but…”

“It still makes you uncomfortable.” Merlin said, understanding.

Arthur went to protest, but Merlin knew him too well, and Arthur knew it. His face twisted into a slight grimace instead, and rather than admit it he turned to their cooling dinner.

“Come on, let’s eat.”

Merlin smiled hesitantly and joined Arthur at the table. “Does this apology meal include you washing the dishes too?”

“Shut up Merlin.”

Merlin laughed, but after they had finished eating Arthur took his plate, and when they went to sleep that night Arthur slept on the floor, no matter how much Merlin protested.

They woke the next day and silently got ready, Merlin helping Arthur into his clothes as he always did. It felt unreal, that Arthur knew and still trusted him to do this. That he still saw Merlin as Merlin, despite the lies and his father’s hatred of all things magic influencing him his whole life.

“One more match.” Arthur murmured, breaking the silence. “Then the tournament will be over.”

Merlin fixed his cloak around him and stood back. “Then you can go back to being Prince Arthur. To being waited on hand and foot, the giant comfy bed, with the ability to order around innocent servants and knock around your thick-headed knights.”

Arthur frowned in mock offense. “My knights aren’t thick-headed. Some servants are just too much of an idiot to understand the mind of a knight.”

Merlin pressed a hand to his heart dramatically, and then they were both laughing and smiling softly at each other, and Merlin’s heart missed a beat at the look in Arthur’s eyes. He reached up for his neckerchief and gently tugged it free from his neck, ducking his head shyly as he offered it to Arthur.

“For luck.” He said by way of explanation, and hoped that would be enough.

Arthur rolled the fabric between two of his fingers. “Is it… you know?”

Merlin looked up. “Charmed? No, it’s just an ordinary favour.”

Arthur took it, a slight grin on his lips. “An ordinary favour? Do you know what favours are, Merlin?”

Merlin’s breath caught. “Yes.”

Arthur stared at him, unblinking, before he slowly wound the cloth around his arm. He stared at the red bit of cloth for a moment, breathing shallowly, before turning back to Merlin.

“Thank you.”

Merlin grinned, was going to say no problem prat, now try not to die out there, when suddenly Arthur’s lips were on his and he couldn’t think, let alone speak. He simply allowed himself to be kissed, and when Arthur tried to pull away he tugged him back, throwing his fear and inexperience to the wind and kissing his prince with everything he had.

Finally Arthur managed to pull himself away, and Merlin let him go, no matter how he wished he didn’t have to.

“I must go.” Arthur whispered, and Merlin nodded, because he knew he did, and then he was gone, leaving Merlin alone in his room.

He raised a hand to his lips. They tingled, and Merlin couldn’t wait until this stupid tournament was over so he could kiss Arthur again, preferably in the prat’s rooms, where they could lock the door and not be disturbed for hours.

When Arthur inevitably won the tournament – with only a little help from Merlin and his magic, considering his knightly opponent had mysteriously been replaced with a deadly assassin – Merlin was the first one to congratulate him. It was also the first time he told Arthur he had saved his life, and exactly how, and they first time Arthur had reacted to the mention of magic without a flicker of hate or fear.

It was also the first time Arthur allowed Merlin to use magic on him, the deep cut in his side fading to a thin scar, near invisible unless you knew what you were looking for. Arthur had been uncomfortable, but he hadn’t told Merlin to stop, and after he was healed he had ordered Sir William of Daira to go collect his trophy.

Merlin had kissed him senseless for that.

It was later, late at night in Arthur’s chambers, when Arthur addressed what they had both been avoiding thinking about. Merlin had an arm around Arthur’s shoulders, Arthur’s head on his chest, and Arthur’s fingers tracing patterns onto his side.

“What we have between us, my father would never understand. Least of all if he were to discover your magic.”

Merlin shushed him. “I know. You don’t have to explain it to me.”

“We’ll have to be careful.” Arthur continued, as if he hadn’t heard him.

Merlin snorted. “I know how to be careful Arthur.”

Arthur sighed. “I know you do.”

Merlin pulled him closer, and golden hair tickled his nose. “Things will be different when you’re king.”

He felt Arthur smile. “They will. I swear it.”

It was dangerous, but Merlin was used to danger. Living in Camelot was dangerous, but it was worth it. Similarly, loving Arthur was dangerous, but Merlin knew it was worth it, had the moment he’d saw what a noble man the prince was inside. So Merlin let himself fall asleep, Arthur curled up in his arms much in the same way he had curled up in his heart, and dreamt of the golden future they would bring.

It was their destiny, after all.

-

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