#arthur deeply regrets sending merlin to do it

[goldenn-moments]

YES. YES. MERLIN BECOMING ONE OF THE QUEENS BEFORE ARTHUR EVEN PUTS A RING ON IT

literally I'll take any content where merlin interacts w the queens and they all accept that he is One Of Them🤲🏼🤲🏼

The Queens of Albion throw a ball every spring for noble families to introduce their eligible sons and daughters. It rotates from kingdom to kingdom each year.

Except Camelot doesn’t officially have a queen. So, Arthur makes Merlin help with the planning.

At first Merlin hates the idea but the Queens of Albion are a catty bunch who know every secret and rumor. They’re hilariously feisty and opinionated. Merlin fits in perfectly and by the time it’s Camelot’s turn to host the ball, the Queens are convinced that Arthur remains unmarried because he’s pining after Merlin.

It is tradition that the hosting King and Queen open the ball with a first dance and tradition cannot be ignored. It had nothing to do with the rather large betting pool that has yet to be claimed.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

1)

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

2)

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

3)

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

4)

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

5)

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

~

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

~

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

[onceandfuturewarlqck]

merlin magic reveal analysis

"I am a sorcerer, I have magic… and I use it for you Arthur, only for you."

I was thinking about this (as i often find myself doing of lately) and something i have already mentioned somewhere but never deeply explored is the deeper meaning behind Merlin's words.

in the episode, Balinor appears to Merlin when everything seems lost, and he tells him the truth about him: he is not only a magic haver, he is magic itself.

Merlin, you are more than a son of you father. You are son of the earth, the sea, the sky, magic is the fabric of this world, and you were born of that magic. You are magic itself. You cannot lose what you are.

without dwelling right now about how inspiring and beautiful the message itself is (maybe ill write an in-depth analysis on that later on), it is known that Merlin IS magic. he doesn't simply have magic, he isnt only born with magic, he is magic. Merlin is a part of the essence that magic is, a being of nature, in a way just like a mystical creature. he is both human (he has human parents, he is made of flesh and bones and blood, he was born like a normal child) and magical.

magic, the same magic that is the fabric of the world, gave birth to itself under the form of a boy - Merlin.

so. Merlin is magic. and magic is Merlin.

and, when he confesses to Arthur that he is a warlock, that he has been using magic for years, he knows this. he knows that Merlin and magic are synonym.

and thats why his confession of magic is also something deeper. when Merlin tells Arthur that he has magic, and that he uses it only for him, he is not just admitting of his powers.

he is giving himself to Arthur.

by saying that Merlin's magic is only Arthur's, he is saying that Merlin himself is Arthur's. Merlin whole existence belongs to him, is his. I have my reasons to believe that, if the circumstances were different and Arthur had discovered about Merlin's magic in a different way, Merlin would rather die than leave Arthur's side. even if Arthur exiled him, Merlin would either stubbornly refuse to go, or find another way to stay.

because Merlin's magic, without Arthur, has no reason to exist - and so Merlin himself.

Merlin, in this scene, is baring himself to Arthur, he is saying "I am yours. everything i am, my very soul, my very essence, has always been yours, and always will be. i use magic only for you, and magic is me, we are the same."

and what does Arthur replies to his admission? he orders Merlin to leave him.

he rejects him. even if Arthur has every right, at this point, of feeling confused and not knowing how to act (and I think that Arthur sends him away also because he doesnt want to hurt him, or do and say anything he might regret later, but he needs time, to process everything that happened), he rejects Merlin.

and Merlin's face is the most heartbreaking thing ever.

he is confused. Merlin. he is confused because Arthur told him to leave him. he is hurt because Merlin just told him that everything he is belongs to Arthur, that he is Arthur's, and, even if he knew that it would have not been taken easily, he is still hurt and upset and confused.

that's what breaks my heart the most. because by rejecting his magic (first by saying that Merlin cannot have magic, he would know, and then by telling him to leave), Arthur is rejecting him. he is not simply rejecting a part of Merlin, he is rejecting everything Merlin is.

if Merlin is magic, and Arthur rejects magic, then Arthur is rejecting Merlin as well.

not that Arthur knows the extent of what Merlin says, and this is the real tragedy, because we know, and Merlin knows, but Arthur doesnt. Arthur doesnt know everything Merlin did for him, he doesn't know what Merlin's confession truly is (one could say that it's a love confession, whether you call it romantical or not, it's a confession of love and loyalty, as Merlin is giving all of himself to Arthur).

Arthur spent ten years without knowing just how much Merlin gave him and, when Merlin tells him, Arthur doesn't completely get it, he doesn't know.

"I thought I knew you."

"I'm still the same person.

this part is important as well, because Arthur tells Merlin that he thought he knew him - he thought he knew what he was. and Merlin answers by saying that he is still the same person. because he is.

just as Merlin is magic, magic is also Merlin. it's not another part of him. it's him, and even if Arthur didnt know that Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer alive and Emrys and all that, even if Arthur didnt know what Merlin did, Arthur still knew (and knows) Merlin.

but the depth of it all is lost in translation. Arthur is dying, and won't ever know about everything. Merlin is trying to save him, but he knows that he can't make it. they dont have the time to understand each other, not anymore.

[pendraigon-moved]

what are arhtur's feelings of his uncle post the sword in the stone ? i'm currently watching it now and he seemed like he wanted to attack his uncle? do all the other betrayals ( such as morgana ) play a part in the way he was going to act or would he have spared aggravaine?

 oh   my   goodness,   first   of   all,   i   want   to   thank   you   for   sending   this   🥺🥺   i   can’t   even   tell   you   how   much   i   smiled   and   gasped   when   i   got   this   ask,   so   thank   you!

 you’re   right   though!   when   him   and   merlin   are   trying   to   meet   up   with   gaius   and   such   in   camelot   after   arthur   was   injured   trying   to   defend   the   palace.   this   is   when   he   finds   out   that   agravaine   was   the   reason   why   morgana   was   able   to   enter   camelot   so   easily   and   without   warning.   and   yep!   sure   enough   he   tries   to   run   out   the   minute   he   sees   agravaine   to   attack   him   until   merlin   pulls   him   back.   it’s   safe   to   say   if   merlin   hadn’t   pulled   him   back,   arthur   would’ve   ran   out   to   confront   agravaine   and   morgana.

 and   yes,   i   think   morgana’s   betrayal   did   play   a   part   in   how   he   wanted   to   act.   because   even   during   morgana’s   betrayal,   you   can   see   arthur   tries   to   get   up   to   attack,   but   merlin   pulls   him   back   down.   arthur   seems   to   be   a   ...   try   to   attack   first,   deal   with   it   later   kind   of   person   ???   (   and   again   in   the   scene   with   guinevere   and   lancelot   when   he   did   just   go   for   it   and   attacked   lancelot   but   we   don’t   talk   about   that   episode   ‘cause   i’ll   get   angry   +    upset   askjf alskfjsa   )

 i   don’t   think   in   this   moment,   if   he   was   able   to   subdue   agravaine   that   he’d   kill   him.   given   agravaine   was   the   catalyst   for   him   killing   queen   annis’   husband   earlier   in   the   season,   and   that   being   something   arthur   deeply   regretted.   but   i   do   believe   he’d   have   him  executed   for   treason   after   the   battle.

 i   also   think   what   makes   it   worse!   is   a   few   episodes   prior,   merlin   was   straight   up   telling   him   that   agravaine   was   lying   and   wasn’t   being   honest   with   arthur,   and   arthur   didn’t   believe   him.   so,   the   fact   that   arthur   had   defended   this   man,   his   uncle,   his   mother’s   brother   so   much!   and   to   then   find   out   it   had   all   been   true   ...   it   makes   arthur   doubt   every   person   he   has   trusted   and   again,   he   says   that   in   sword   in   the   stone   pt. 2   “   i   trusted   the   wrong   people.   no,   i   was   a   fool.   i   misjudged   everyone.   my   uncle.   morgana.   ”

 agravaine’s   betrayal   does   play   a   big   part   in   the   long   run   for   who   arthur   feels   like   he   can   trust.   i   feel   like   it   is   something   he   struggles   with   after   that.   (   which   is   why   i   think   when   merlin   finally   reveals   he’s   a   sorcerer,   it   hits   arthur   a   lot   harder   than   it   would’ve.   )   he   becomes   much   more   wary   and   cautious.   arthur   doesn’t   speak   of   his   uncle   ever   after   the   battle,   or   at   least   not   ever   by   name.   he   tries   to   cling   to   those   good   memories,  of   the   man   ...   his   uncle!   that   stood   by   his   side   and   helped   him   when   arthur   stepped   up   to   take   over   for   uther   and   during   the   start   of   his   reign,   but   it’s   hard   when   now   knowing   the   entire   time   he   had   been   working   with   morgana.

 aaaa,   this   got   long   and   wordy   and   i   don’t   even   know   if   this   properly   answered   what   you   were   asking,   but   eeee,   i   love   speaking   about   things   like   this,   so   again   thank   you   so   so   so   much.

[endless-whump]

Morgana’s Message Pt. 2

Part 2 to my prompt about Morgana capturing and torturing Merlin.  Lots of comfort and fluff in this one, as well as angst

Part 1 can be found here

(TW: flashbacks, ptsd, feverish, general angst, description of burns and stab wounds,)

“We need to get him back to Arthur” 

Urgent voices swam around Merlin as his spasms calmed into limpness.  

“Oh my God, get something to stop the bleeding”

“Merlin, stay with us.  Can you hear me?”

He opened his eyes slightly, his lids hooded and eyes glazed over.  As he felt pressure on his stomach he let out a guttural whine before his eyes rolled back, the shouting of those around him fading once more. 

 He felt arms underneath him, and a comforting person holding him close.  The cold wind bit at him, even through the wool blanket he could vaguely feel wrapped around him.  

Arthur

Merlin shuddered in the cold, his breath faltering with each step.  The movement jostled his wounds, sending more convulsions through his body.  The coppery taste of blood coated his lips and the inside of his mouth as he coughed, almost unable to breath with his filling lungs.  

“Leave me,”  A cough sent him shaking again as he fought to stay conscious.

“Your funny, Merlin, as well as a complete fool.”

“Ple- agh!”

Merlin clutched his stomach, gagging with a sob.  

“Merlin? Merlin can you he-”

Blood spilled from his mouth, and a sharp curse could be heard under his rescuers breath.

“He’s choking! Hurry it up!”

Stars entered his vision again, swirling and making patterns in the sky.  Another spasm racked his body, his mind finally slipping entirely from the world.

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

Morgana’s looming smile hovered over Merlin yet again, her cold fingers tracing along his injuries and scars.  

“Please stop Morgana, please.”

“Oh Emrys, you know I can't do that.”

Merlin thrashed, his sobs turning to screams.  

“Stop, stop, Morgana, make it stop, please make it stop!”

His eyes opened abruptly, pain raking through his body as he shook with his cries.  Arthur sat next to him, Gwain next to him.  An alarmed look was spread over his face as he clutched Merlin’s shaking hand.  Without thinking, Merlin ripped away from him in fear, seeing only Morgana and her leering smile.

“Agh!” 

Merlin fell to the floor, his head slamming onto the cold stone beneath him.

“Merlin!”

He felt arms under him, lifting him as they ignored his weak struggles against them.  His eyes wide in fear, Merlin thrashed as the floor spun underneath him.

“He’s going to hurt himself. Gaius, can't you do something?!”

He felt a vial at his lips, and cold liquid went down his throat.  Quickly, he felt its affect as his limbs became heavy and limp; and his muscles relaxed against his will.  He looked up at Arthur, his face no longer Morgana’s.

“Ar-Arthur?”

He whispered as a cool cloth was put to his forehead.

“Sleep, Merlin.  Your safe now, you hear me?  You're safe now.”

He struggled to keep his eyes open, but eventually succumbed to Gaius’s potion, drifting into a deep, deep sleep.

When he eventually awoke, he looked around, realizing he was in Gaius’s chambers.  He was alone.  His head throbbed painfully, and when he tried to lift his hand to his head, he found his wrists bound to the table.  Panic seeped into his mind, his breath quickened.  Tugging at the restraints, he whimpered.

“Gaius! Gaius where are you.  Arthur?”

Tears started to stream down his face.  They left him alone.  He was alone again, tied down and helpless.  They abandoned him.  Tremors started to rack his body again, and he heard the wooden door creak open.

“Merin?  Gaius, he's awake!”

Arthur rushed to Merlins side, looking down on him concerned.

“Sh, Merlin, it's alright, I'm here.  You hurt yourself, so we had to restrain you.  I can't undo these until you calm down.”

Merlin locked eyes with him, trying to slow his breathing.  His hands twitched and shook uncontrollably, and Arthur clutched them, steadying Merlin.

“Your alright Merlin, you're alright.  Can you understand me?”

Merlin nodded his head weakly.  Arthur gently unhooked the straps on his wrists, being careful not to press on the bandaging.

“Who did this to you, Merlin?”

Merlin broke eye contact, avoiding Arthur’s strong gaze.  He didn't want to say her name.

“Was it Morgana?”

He flinched at the mention of her name, feeling her cold touch with a shiver.  Looking back at him, he nodded softly.  

“Shit, Merlin.  I swear she’ll pay for this”

He shifted in his seat, his eyes darting around the room.

“Your injuries were very severe, Merlin.  Gaius was barely able to save you.  He had to use, um, all of his medicinal capabilities.  Trust me when I say no punishment will come to him; I instructed him to do so.”

He replaced the cloth on Merlins forehead, setting his hand to his shoulder.

“I almost thought I lost you, Merlin.  Don't scare me like that again.”

He smiled weakly, standing up.  

“I’ll fetch Gaius, you get some rest.”

Merlin sighed, the shaking having finally stopped.  The throbbing in his head had receded, although he could still feel the sharp pains in his torso and leg. Staring up at the ceiling, he almost didn't notice when Gaius entered the room.

“How do you feel, Merlin?’

He shifted his head to look at him.

“If I'm being honest, not great,”

“Well, that's no less than I expected.  Morgana’s blade pierced your lung, Merlin.  I almost couldn't fix the damage.”

He sad down beside him, lifting a hand to his face.  Merlin panicked, hastily slapping him away.

“Don't touch me,”  He said with a whimper.  Gaius’s hands were warm, but he couldn't help but feel the cold touch of Morgana, cupping his face triumphantly.

“Whatever is the matter, Merlin?”

Gaius’s face was worried, looking down at Merlin gently.

“J-just don't touch me, please.”  Another shiver ran through his body.

Gaius shifted to his workbench, grabbing a potion.

“This will help you relax, and maybe ease some more of your pain.”

Merlin cautiously took it from Gaius, sipping at it until the vial was empty.  The cushions sunk deeply as he sat back into them, sighing.  Gaius silently got up and left, closing the door softly.  Merlin took a deep breath, propping himself up and swinging his legs over the bed despite the sharp stabbing pain. Sniffing, he rubbed his eyes and gingerly lifted his shirt, cringing at the stained bandages wrapped around his torso.  He touched it, inhaling sharply at the soreness.  Bruises colored his ribs and chest, stretching up around his shoulder.  

Probably from the beating I got while being dragged to Morgana’s hut

He thought;  He looked up to see Arthur enter the room.

“I saw Gaius leave; I wanted to see if you wanted company,”

Merlin forced a smile, nodding.  Arthur pulled up a stool, sitting in front of Merlin.

“Here, let me replace those.”

“Wha-”

Before he could protest, Arthur started peeling away the bandages around his stomach, revealing the ghastly scarring around his stab wounds.  Merlin sat speechless, staring at his king as he changed out his bandaging for fresh ones, a look of worry and determination on his face.  As he peeled back the last gauze, the fresh brand on his side came into sight, and Arthur faltered, staring at it.

“Merlin, what did she do to you?”

Merlin hastily grabbed the fresh gauze from Arthurs hand, wrapping it around his torso hurriedly.

“I,,its nothing, sire. I-”

“Nonsense, Merlin.  Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Merlin let Arthur pull the bandage back to see the scar; a rune burnt into the side of his torso, at the ribcage.  It was crude work, scarred skin surrounding the mark itself by an untrained hand.  Silently, Arthur carefully replaced the bandaging, slowing down and glancing up whenever Merlin flinched, waiting for him to nod to continue.  After they were done, Merlin dropped his shirt back down, sighing heavily from the effort.  

“Well, you'll be in good shape in no time, isn't that right Merlin,”

Arthur said lightheartedly, lightly ruffling his hair.  Merlin froze, his expression falling.  Arthurs face turned to concern, and he lifted a hand.

“Merlin, what's wron-”

Merlin pulled back from the touch, his breath hitching.

“Whoah Merlin, calm down.”

Panick setting over him, Merlin abruptly tried to stand up, crying out as he collapsed from his bad leg.  Arthur caught the boy as he broke into a shaking, sobbing mess in his arms.  Now sitting on the floor, Arthur held Merlin carefully, unsure of what to do.

“Your safe Merlin, you're safe.  I promise.”

It took a minute, but eventually Merlins breath evened out, and the shaking calmed a little.

“Your gonna be ok Merlin; you just need some time to recover, ok?”

Merlin looked up at him, nodding with a sniff.

“Alright then.  Lets get you back into bed, and I’lll fetch some food.”

He scooped Merlin up into his arms, smiling when he realized the boy was now sound asleep, his head laying against his chest.  Setting him down onto the bed, he drew up the covers around Merlin, taking note of his twitching and shivering.  Frowning, his temper flared at the thought of all Morgana had put him through.

“I will come after you, sister.  And you will forever regret trying to make an example of my friend.”  

He muttered to himself, sitting back down and clutching Merlins hand with both of his. 

Hope you enjoyed part 2!  I thought I might end it here, but if you enjoyed it so far let me know ideas for a part three!

[agentdagonet]

Echoes, Ch. 14

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr:  1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

  And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

          There was a moment Merlin had near instantly regretted: turning off the screens after Valentine had killed Harry in Kentucky.

          By doing so he’d not only turned off the audio transmission that would have likely given him more notice of Valentine’s plan (instead of waiting for Eggsy and a fucking corpse to come through the train) but had shut off the homing beacon. Of course he knew where the church was, but by the time everything had settled enough to try and locate Harry’s body cleanups had long since begun. There were too many injured for hospitals to contain, and the dead were collected and families contacted before being cremated- those without easily contacted families were tagged anonymously with their place of death and their general physical appearances. The assumption was that anyone who knew those people would search through the databanks until everyone was claimed.

          Unfortunately, a man in his fifties with spectacles and chestnut-salted hair and a square jaw was a rather common description. And, to prevent people from claiming ashes of people they did not know (for whatever reason they would do so, though Merlin couldn’t think of one), the companies who ran the databases required a photograph of the deceased to compare against the one in their physical files. They did not put the gruesome photographs of those in question publicly on the sites for rather obvious reasons, but that made it difficult to wade through the vague descriptions at anything near a fast-pace. You had to send a message to every file that may apply individually, and then wait for responses to each of those individually, and only THEN would they request the photograph to compare against their own.

          It was tedious. Maddening. And something he’d quickly delegated to a program while trying to dual-wield the most important positions in Kingsman.

          Eggsy had been very gung-ho about finding Harry, and Merlin had used cold facts to dissuade him from going off on his own to find him. There likely isn’t even a body anymore, he’d said, don’t dishonour his memory by flitting off on some useless quest. Let the computer do that, and do something to actually help the world move on from this. Be a proper Kingsman. Eggsy’d done so, begrudgingly, and had never really stopped mourning- stopped trying to hide it sometimes, even.

          Now Merlin felt like a right tit, staring blankly at a message that not only debunked his assumptions of there being no body to go back for, but made incredibly clear that he’d actually abandoned his closest friend in his greatest time of need. It was a difficult pill to swallow.

          Eggsy’d just started looking proper human again, after the whole hologram fiasco. And he’d have to shatter the man anew, and deal with the blows as they fell. Likely literally, considering his temper.

          Merlin gave himself a moment longer to come to terms with his likely-imminent future before springing into action, setting himself to track the message back to its destination. There were footsteps incoming, but he ignored them; stopping what he was doing to look up wouldn’t stop the inevitable.

          But, instead of the shove or angry slap he’d expected from Eggsy, there was a delicate hand on his shoulder. Lancelot leant her body weight against him to get a better look at his screen, and her hand tightened near-painfully moments later.

‘You’ve found the body?’

          ‘There is no body.’

‘Then what’s the frantic typing for?’

          ‘He’s not dead.’

‘... Pardon?’

          ‘The bloody peacock just sent a message- to the Merlin and Arthur lines.’

-

          The day’d started out like most of the ones that had passed since Eggsy’d come to terms with sharing a house with a holographic ghost: slowly. He got up, made himself a quick brekkie and idly pulled up a file at random from the laptop in the Office. As personable as Haz was, it was still not Harry- it had been, but it wasn’t if that made any sense outside of his head.

          1 new message a small pop-up at the base of the screen read, and Eggsy was far too impulsive a person no to immediately click on the thing.

Galahad,

Eggsy, if you’re reading this then, as I’d hoped most dearly, you’ve become a Kingsman. More than that, you’ve gotten into my system and likely gone through the files in here- good show.

I want you to know how incredibly proud of you, that despite every sign otherwise I could not be more proud of the man you are. Soft-hearted or sentimental, we are all human at the end of all things- and you happen to be one with an incredible strength I couldn’t understand. Your caring so deeply is not a weakness- it is your greatest strength; your sense of justice is far more important than any order. You do the right thing even when it is the most difficult, you put yourself at risk to protect those weaker than yourself- and that’s the mark of a true Gentleman. A proper Kingsman.

I told you that Kingsman only condones the risking of one life to save another- but in my foolishness I assumed that it only applied to people. Life doesn’t stop at humanity, and I thank you deeply for reminding me of that.

With that out of the way, I’d like to ask a rather personal favour:

Get me out of Kentucky

Sincerely,

H. Hart

Eggsy couldn’t stop himself from gasping, one hand clutched at nonexistent pearls as the other pulled at his hair. A bit painful but, much like pinching oneself to be sure they weren’t dreaming, it grounded Eggsy and reminded him that this was reality. This was real, had really just happened- he wasn’t imagining it in some desperate bid to get Merlin to let him go across an ocean for what was left of a man he’d known a scant few months.

Harry was alive.

Eggsy wandered from the room in a daze, pulling on his trackies and a tee before slipping on his trainers and running out the door- straight through the Haz by the downstairs loo. He couldn’t remember if he’d locked the door or not- but no matter, Merlin wouldn’t let anyone take anything from Harry’s house.

Merlin. He had to tell Merlin. Eggsy changed his mental route a little, deciding against simply stealing a plane from the hangar and instead going straight to Merlin to break the news as gently as he could before commandeering a way to Kentucky with or without his permission. The taxi stopped at the Shop, and Eggsy tried to be inconspicuous as he walked at at an idle pace to the proper Dressing Room and slipped inside. Difficult in street clothes, what with it being so high class and all, but he managed. Eventually the train let him out at HQ, and he was greeted by silence.

That in and of itself was odd, considering how much was going wrong in the world at any one time, but what was stranger was the open door at the end of the hall. Merlin didn’t leave his door open, didn’t like the unspoken invitation into his space and relished in the moments between knock and someone encroaching on his territory. Eggsy relished in ignoring those unspoken rules and breaking in anyway, which wasn’t happening today, apparently.

Eggsy had intended to walk into Merlin’s office, intended to be breathing evenly and speak calmly when upturning Merlin’s worldview. Unfortunately, Eggsy’s body made a few rather different decisions without the input of his brain.

‘HARRY’SALIVEINKENTUCKY!’ It wasn’t yelled, but only by a fraction- and only Roxy looked up at him at the exclamation.

‘Oh?’ She raised an eyebrow at him, and Merlin didn’t pause in his typing- though his lips twitched. Eggsy took a fortifying breath before trying again.

‘Harry. He’s alive. In Kentucky. Sent a message. I need a plane.’ He panted it out between breaths, leant heavily on the desk, and eventually looked up to try and meet Merlin’s eyes.

‘I’m trying to pinpoint his location now, actually- he sent a message to Arthur. And Merlin.’ Somehow Eggsy was disappointed with the revelation that he was not only not the only person to receive a message from their thought-fallen Knight, but he had also lost the opportunity to share this moment with Merlin, the only other man who had mourned Harry past the Kingsman Toast.

‘Why don’ you just ping the specs, then?’

‘He was shot in the face Eggsy, I highly doubt that any of the homing beacons are functional between that and whatever aftermath led him to wherever he is now.’

‘Then what’s the harm in tryin’? Worst tha’ could go wrong is you get no response, but best? At best you get his location right now and we’re en route to the bastard before noon. C’mon- let’s bring him home, yeah?’ Eggsy whispered, looked at the surface of the desk instead of Merlin’s face until after he was done. The typing slowly stopped, and instead Merlin leant over and pressed a button.

The screens flashed a few times, black then white and black again before clearing up. What remained was a world map, with little “You Are Here” arrows scattered about seemingly at random. Gawain was in Madrid, Percival Honduras, Dagonet at the Shop, and a small cluster labelled Lancelot, Merlin, and Galahad in the middle of England.

Another arrow labelled Galahad in Kentucky, which seemed to blink out of existence every few moments- but it was there.

‘Well? What’re we waitin’ for?’ Eggsy idly memorised the coordinates, and began making his way to the hangar. Merlin and Roxy took a moment more to catch up to him, but he barely noticed when he was no longer alone. He was a man on a mission.

Bring him home.