#arthur pendragon can choke

[wizardteampod]

It's Cuss Out Arthur O'Clock!

A new episode of ##WizardTeam just dropped - things go from really good (Bree, Sel, and the FIREFLIES) to really bad (Erebus and ARTHUR). Squeal and scream with us and special guest/BNC Collective fam @talespinningdj as we discuss Bloodmarked chapters 52-54 on a podcast app near you!

[confused-wanderer]

Hunith is completely desensitised to murder and all that comes along with it being Merlins mother.

So what if when Merlin and everyone go to his village during that Will episode, Huntih recognises early signs of magic in Morganna. And so she teaches her some herbs that she can use for her headaches and so on, forming a bond of trust between them.

A few months later, she’s not surprised to see Morganna arriving at her doorstep crying about everything that’s happening and her nightmares that wouldn��t seem to leave her alone.

Merlin and Morgana become murder siblings where Merlin doesn’t like killing but Morgana actively advocates for it.

And Merlin’s jealous Morgana’s stealing his mother.

When Mordred comes back Merlin and Morgana just keep it a silent thing and co -parent the poor child. Merlin is obviously paranoid and Morgana slaps his head and tells him “I can literally see the future you dummy if anything happens I’ll let you know but till then he’s a baby”.

Arthur is very confused and jealous as to why Merlin and Morgana are suddenly very close. It doesn’t help when Gwen find out and suddenly Lancelot Gwen Morgana and Merlin hang out. without him.

Morgana and Gwen teach Merlin sword fighting and all that and in turn Merlin teaches them about magic. Merlin also has leeway in saying “Morgana sent him to do __” while hiding bodies or being suspicious around the castle. She always backs him up, and Merlin does the same for her.

One day when Arthur’s passive aggressiveness gets too petty for Morgana, she looks at him and makes a comment along the lines of “Why, you want him all to yourself?”

Arthur chokes on his drink, Morgana stares in amusement.

Both the pendragon siblings have a realisation that day.

They thwart the threats, Morgana becomes the ruler of the Druid’s and Merlins also like an honorary king but no thank you doesn’t want all that he’s had too much responsibilities for a while.

Both pendragon marry merlin and Gwen, peace in Camelot and balance is restored.

[theprinceofliones]

Tristan has always been scared of the dark.

It's a fear he's never been able to shake ever since he was little. Not being able to see what surrounds him, not being able to anticipate what would come next---it terrified him to no end.

Arthur Pendragon must be aware of this, as wherever Tristan is being held now is as black as night with no entrance or exit in sight.

His hands and legs have been wrapped in chains that obviously nullify his magic, his goddess wings have been strung to the floor, open and unable to move. He's on the stone concrete floor below, unable to muster the strength to lift any part of his body as they're weighed down so heavily. He keeps his eyes closed, attempting to focus on his breathing so he doesn't have to open his eyes to darkness.

He doesn't know how long he's been here, doesn't wish to know. He just wants to go /home/.

Suddenly, after what felt like hours, the door, entrance, opens wide.

Tristan's eyes snap open and they adjust to the light now spilling into the endlessly dark cavern that is this dungeon, and when they do, their he finds the man behind it all.

Arthur Pendragon smiles at him sweetly, head titling.

"Are you comfortable?" He asks. "Little prince?"

Tristan glares at him and his fists clench behind him. He doesn't say anything, choosing to keep his last remnants of dignity that he can muster to keep to himself.

The false king grins wider. "Shy now, are we?" He chuckles. "A shame. You were quite mouthy last time we met."

"I'm gonna kill you," Tristan suddenly seethes and Arthur laughs.

"There it is!" He cheers and claps. "Such /rage/. You look just like your father when you glare at me like that," He chuckles again and sighs. "I don't know why everyone says you look like your whore mother, Elizabeth---to me, you are a carbon copy of your monstrous father and all his demon kin."

At the mention of his sweet mother, Tristan /snarls/. "/Don't speak her name, bastard/!" He screams as he shakes with rage. "Else I'll rip your fucking tongue from your /throat/!"

Arthur just scoffs. "I will admit, you're either quite brave or quite /foolish/ to insult me when you're in the position you're in now," He says nonchalantly. "All alone, away from home. You poor thing, you must be so scared."

Tristan wants to claw the bastard's eyes out, rip out his vocal cords and shove them down his throat until he chokes and dies.

He's never felt such rage before---a wrath taking over him like nothing ever has.

"Well," Arthur sighs with a devilish grin as he turns around and away from him with a wave of his hand. "I hope you enjoy your stay here, little prince, because you're going to be here for a /while/, I'd wager. Who knows, maybe you'll even come to like it here? Perhaps you will one day come to lick my boot---"

Tristan doesn't even realize he's able to move until he's near inches away from Arthur's face.

Chains stops him, tugging him back and away from the bastard.

Tristan cries out as he nearly loses his footing and pain floods his senses as the brackets around his wrists and ankles nearly pull his skin off. His goddess wings attempt to flap uselessly and he nearly /screams/ in frustration.

Arthur rears back, obviously not expecting Tristan to be able to move with the magic wards and drugs in his system flooding his senses to make him dizzy and drowsy.

Tristan tries to get as close as possible, shrieking in rage as he can't get any closer and Arthur stares at him in complete disbelief before he begins to laugh, as though he were in shock and awe.

"Wow!" He gasps. "I shouldn't have expected any less! The fact that you're able to get past my wards at all is---"

Blood spills from a cut on his cheek and the God of Chaos stumbles.

Tristan pants for air and his one /freed/ wing floats beside him, feathers sharpened to the same sharpness of steel /blades/.

Arthur is stunned into silence.

"/I/ am Tristan Liones," He begins, gasping as he stands up as tall as he can. He can feel his magic flowing through him, as little as the wards allow. "I am the son of Meliodas and Elizabeth Liones, the Crown Prince of Britannia, the Four Knights of the Apocalypse of Pestilence, and, when I escape from here, I will take your /head/."

The only sound that can be heard is Tristan's gasps for air and the sound of chains rattling and Arthur's lips part as their eyes remained locked.

After several moments of silence, Arthur just smiles again, tiny scar and droplet of blood gone as he heals himself.

"I look forward to your meager attempts, sweet prince," Is all he says before he turns around and leaves the dungeon before he shuts the door.

Thus, encasing Tristan in a darkness that will now, unfortunately, become his home for a long, /long/ time.

[crithaus]

Morgwen Bodyguard!AU where it's the whole gang in mostly modern times. This is extensive, bear with me.

Through some series of events I haven't thought of yet England has not become England as we know it yet though most of history remains the same and Uther Pendragon is King Regnant of Albion, and he does about just as good a job rearing two kids as he does running a country and has a great vast many enemies so his heir apparent Crown Prince Arthur and his ward Morgana, now Duchess of Gorlois after the death of her 'father', are now in desperate need of a constant detail of bodyguards.

enter gwen and the gang

his capital city can only bear to send CIS' - Camelot Intelligence Services - finest on recommendation by his own friend and personal physician. Sends him 2 3-cell teams of their best intelligence agents or at least, least likely to kill each other while guarding bodys yknow.

And Morgana gets hers. Her team leader, sniper and combat specialist Lancelot, ex combat pilot turned all around agent Elyan and to her immense surprise, Elyan's super super gorgeous sister, Guinevere.

Arthur gets his cell, team leader Leon his getaway driver and head strategist, defense and combat specialist Gwaine and hacker Merlin, though the poor boy gets a secondary job as Arthur's PA too which takes up much of his time.

Morgana's spent every moment of her life that she can remember simpering with high society boys and girls, all of them either vapid and idiotic or worse yet, cruel and calculating and never ever has she met a woman more fascinating than Gwen. She's her new personal assistant much like Merlin is Arthur's, with an eidetic memory and the management skills of Hannibal fucking Barca, a parisian boutique's worth of seamstress ability and the personal upkeep, maintainence and even some smithing of all her cell's weapons. She runs shit like the navy and when Morgana asks why she isn't team leader, Gwen just laughs and oh man is her laugh pretty, and shrugs, "someone needs to be focused solely on you yknow." While looking at her with the biggest doe-iest eyes and Morgana finds herself blushing a lot more?? Beaming ear to ear, too. And

Idk Morgana dragging Gwen off to galas and Gwen taking her off to more low key spots, the club perchance, and Gwen getting wowed by morgana's rapier wit and political acumen and Morgana getting wowed by this absolutely radiant beam of sunshine who snatched a gun out of a mugger's holster before he could do anything and popped some other dude 30 paces away without a hair out of place and adventures. Gwen absolutely despises Uther, Morgana hates all the snooty folk that expect Gwen to kowtow to them. Gwen finds that though her job is to personally assist, the Duchess is actually quite nice, fiercely loyal to her as if just the doing of her job is enough to warrant such, though shes achingly lonely so maybe that's why, is very funny, and kind, and compassionate if a little impulsive and rash, and comes up with the funniest insults imaginable murmured directly into her ear as she stands at her post in the back of x meeting of uther's privy council or y public function. Also that her eyes are theeee most brilliantly clear shade of green, like the still clear pond near her house, like garnet-

Morgana has awful nightmares of totally not suspicious events that come true an odd amount of the time and Gwen is receiving back Intel from CIS and Uther about potential stirring of war from a King Cenred across ye Olde channel and they go on cool car chases and maybe there's a shopping montage or two but yea. Idk how to end this but uther realizes he doesn't have to die a shitty old man and legitimizes Morgana as a princess of the blood before he chokes and when she and Gwen get married it's princess style babyyy

Oh and definitely morgana giving herself up to some assailants cuz gwen is hurt and some baddies cracking poor morgana on the head and Gwen frantically trying to keep her awake and morgana is just griiiiiinning at her all restored even as concussed as she is cuz this angel is cupping her face in her hands and yea, that thing

[fluffypotatey]

Freylin is actually so freaking funny because you know, you know, Merlin never tells anyone about Freya. Not in the sense of actively keeping her a secret, but just...not mentioning it. Like, hey, when he's working, then he is working, and even though he does like to talk, he rarely talks about himself, and not many people ever seem to ask him, either, so it never comes up and therefore he doesn't discuss it.

Which is hilarious because imagine he brings Freya to Camelot to be Gwen's new lady's maid. He has not explained who she is to him beyond someone he trusts (which is about the best job reference you could hope to have in Camelot). Freya does not think to mention it, either, since Merlin obviously would have done that already. Gwen likes her, she seems very sweet and soft-spoken. Arthur likes her, she makes Gwen happy. All is well.

It isn't until like...a month later, when Arthur notices Merlin and Freya going to Merlin's chamber together, that he says anything because he knows Merlin's social awareness isn't always up to snuff. So he mentions, casual as Arthur Pendragon can be, like hey buddy, that's not exactly kosher, m'kay, it's not not allowed, but you gotta at least be subtle about it.

Merlin: No, I know, it's alright, she's my wife.

Arthur: *chokes on his wine*

Arthur: She's your

W H A T?!

things merlin remembers to tell arthur: what gwaine heard through the grapevine things merlin forgets to tell arthur: that

[juliansswimmingpool]

Merthur Fic Masterlist (Updating)

These are some of my favourite Merlin fics so far. A lot of these will contain spoilers for the show. They are listed in no particular order. I have also cropped some of the summaries to save people the scrolling time.

Formatting is as follows: [Title] by [Author] | Completion Status | Word Count (to the nearest thousand), Chapters or Parts (if series) | Rating | Warnings (if applicable) | Key Info/Themes | Summary (I did not write most of them)

Updates since first posted: 1

Under 10k:

The Tulip Thief by Polomonkey | Complete | 3.2k, 1 chapter | General Audiences | Modern setting, fluff, pre-slash, misunderstandings, hand-holding | 'Sometimes I steal flowers from your garden on my way to the cemetery, but today you’ve caught me and have demanded to come with me to make sure the “girl is pretty enough to warrant flower theft” and I’m trying to figure out how to break it to you that we’re on our way to a graveyard'

10-20k:

to go with grace by andiwriteordie | Complete | 17k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | Post-canon, character redemption, Morgana POV, angst, introspective, forgiveness | Morgana Pendragon is dead, at Emrys’s hand. Just as the prophecies had foretold. But before she can enter Avalon and find peace, she must first pay penance for all the sins she committed in her life. Her penance is quite simple: look after and heal Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King, until the time comes for his return to the land of the living.

The Sorcerer and the Lionheart by just_a_wavefunction | Complete | 16k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | Post-canon, historical references, friendship, Immortal Leon | Merlin spends fifteen hundred years waiting for Arthur's return. Luckily, he doesn't have to wait alone.

Hear Your Heart Sing (Love, Love, Love) by schweet_heart | Complete | 15k, 8 chapters | Mature | Soulmates AU, fluff, humor, angst, office romance | Merlin used to like the idea of finding The One – until he fell in love with Arthur Pendragon. Now he has a boss he can't date (but can't stop thinking about), a soulmate he can't find (who has terrible taste in music), and a best friend who can't believe he still hasn't got his act together (even though it's seriously not his fault).

From This Day On by lady_ragnell | Complete | 19k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | modern setting, canon era (it'll make sense), mystery-solving? (idk how to describe it) | While on a hike, Merlin and Gwaine stumble upon the Lost City of Camelot, cursed to wake up every morning a century in the future, and Merlin decides it's his duty to break the spell--with help from a prince, an imprisoned seer, and quite a few others. A Brigadoon AU.

A Metaphor of Human Bloody Existence by lady_ragnell | Complete | 19k, 1 chapter | Teen & Up | Modern with magic, humour, crack treated seriously, destiny | In which Merlin and Arthur (and others) band together to fight evil on the advice of a can of peas.

21-50k:

and with my opened mouth i join the singing light by intothefirewego | Complete | 33k, 6 chapters | Mature | Graphic descriptions of blood | Heavy angst, major character injury, emotional hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, magic reveal | Merlin frowned, and tried to inhale, but choked on a cough. He opened his mouth, trying to speak but his mouth was sticky and full and he felt warm, warm, warm, warm spilling down down down down… The world tilted on its axis a little bit, and Merlin leant into Arthur’s body. Why was the world tilting? Arthur’s face shifted from annoyance to horror.

Destiny That Darkly Hides Us by Nympha_Alba | Complete | 40k, 7 chapters | Explicit | Angst, WWI, Edwardian era, college AU | It's 1913, the practice of homosexuality is unlawful, so is the practice of magic. When Arthur Pendragon and Merlin Emrys meet as Cambridge undergrads, they're both hungry for a real and true connection without secrets. For a short time they believe they may have found it. But war breaks out and separates them, and it seems unlikely that they will meet again. After all, what are the odds?

A.S.S. (Agents of Secret Stuff) series by supercalvin | 39k, 8 parts | Mostly Teen & Up | Mostly none, one fic is marked with Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Spy AU, modern setting, humor, crack treated seriously, BAMF characters | Merlin & Arthur are an unstoppable spy duo. Basically merthur + the knights and other characters do whacky spy shit

51-100k:

Singing Trees by aescrof | Complete | 65k, 11 chapters | Teen & Up | Canon era, different first meeting, magic reveal, fluff, angst | Arthur knew about the magic from the start.

Tributes by TheAvalonian | Complete | 88k, 10 Chapters | Mature | Graphic Depictions of Violence | Hunger Games AU, angst, enemies to friends to lovers, emotional hurt/comfort | It is the 57th annual Hunger Games, and Merlin Emrys stands at the Reaping ceremony with his best friend Guinevere Smith at his side. In a twisted game where death seems the only certainty, Merlin will find himself tested in ways no one could have ever predicted - and may even find himself fighting for more than just his own life as he enters into an unlikely alliance with Arthur Pendragon, the Career tribute poised to win it all.

Over 100k:

To Bare Our Teeth and Our Hearts by queerofthedagger | Complete | 124k, 14 chapters | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | An execution was not exactly on Merlin's bucket list, wasn't even what destiny had intended for him. Arthur, for his part, really wants to catch a break, and to stop thinking about his late manservant. Or sometimes, things have to go downhill first before they get better, and if Uther had known about the eventual outcome, he might've changed his mind for once in his life.

What I'd Have Done by Flight_of_Fantasy | Complete | 119k, 14 chapters | General Audiences | Canon era, magic reveal, heavy angst, gen or pre-slash, Arthur-centric, character study | For better or for worse, Arthur knows Merlin's secret. The problem? Merlin doesn't know Arthur knows. This leaves Arthur with a predicament… and an opportunity. A test. Three trials and three opportunities for Merlin to prove he doesn't deserve death. Arthur hopes he will pass them. Maybe then the image of Merlin's golden eyes will stop haunting him.

The Heart's Search by rotrude | Complete | 115k, 2 chapters | Explicit | Some violence | Romance, AU - dystopia, modern setting | For thirty-five girls/boys, the Selection is the chance of a lifetime. The opportunity to escape the life laid out for them since birth. To be swept up in a world of glittering gowns and priceless jewels. To live in a palace and compete for the heart of gorgeous Prince Arthur. But for Merlin Emrys, being Selected is a nightmare. Leaving his home to enter a fierce competition for a crown he doesn't want. Living in a palace that is constantly threatened by violent rebel attacks.

The Great Merlin Bake Off by Elizabeth | Complete | 102k, 10 chapters | Mature | Modern setting, fluff, pining, schmoop | Because someone said, "What if it's Merlin, but they're on Bake Off?" AKA: The GBBO AU. It was bound to happen at some point.

Some bonus non-merthur Merlin fics:

Everyday Destiny (ffn, ao3) by Searchingforangels (ffn) or DancingInTheStorm (ao3) | Complete (only on ffn) | 53k, 200 chapters | General Audiences | Drabble collection, golden age AU, exploration of themes, non-linear narrative | Great destinies swing of small hinges; a collection of small moments that shape Albion. A pre- and post-reveal drabble collection.

[the-pen-pot]

For the WIP game, I would love to hear about Sigh No More (Merlin)! :) Or anything that you wished someone asked for haha!

*Gasps* Sigh No More, my beloved. Normally, I don't lean into intense AUs, but this fic is basically a fantasy mash up of Merlin and the Age of Sail. It's probably partly inspired by some Robin Hobb books I read decades ago and remember very little about except talking fingerheads? Maybe? I went feral on world-building (I love world-building) and I want more of this fic SO BAD but don't have as much time to write it as I would like.

Summary: Prince Arthur Pendragon, Captain of the Llamrei, would far rather spend his days patrolling Camelot's Waters than assume his place on the throne. Yet when he finds the wreckage of a vast ship and one lone survivor on board, nothing can prepare him for the path his life will lead.

Nor the demands his heart will make.

You can actually find all of chapter one here on tumblr at https://www.tumblr.com/the-pen-pot/728815629419888640/

and here's a lil' snippet of chapter two 😁

For the first time, the weight of the captain's eyes scoured his skin, assessing. 'So, some fool gave the order to flee in a Stables ship. Ealdor is not large. You must have been undermanned. Even if the whole population were on board and strong enough to work, it wouldn't have been enough to manage her.' 'There were no orders! There was no choice!' He did not say his magic had helped set and fill those massive sails. Funny, how the people who had reviled him on land suddenly looked the other way when their lives were at stake. Not that it had done them any good. 'I could not have captained such a ship, and I've been trained to sail since birth!' 'And how long have you been training to be a prat?' The words bolted free of him, and Merlin practically felt every man within earshot freeze. The bronze-haired companion didn't seem to know how to react, and Lancelot had snatched in a quiet sip of air. Over by the rail, a man with wavy brown hair that brushed his shoulders was staring at Merlin with wide eyes, his lips spreading in a slow grin of delight that he did not bother to hide. The captain's hand slipped off the wheel as he turned to face Merlin fully, looking at him as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. He wore the expression of someone who had never been insulted in his whole life, and a scoff caught in his throat. 'You can't speak to me like that!' Merlin rolled his eyes. 'Sorry. How long have you been training to be a prat, My Lord?' A choked laugh, hastily stifled, came from the grinning man. He looked like he was trying to stuff his whole fist in his mouth to stop himself from guffawing. At least someone was finding this whole disaster funny. The captain's bootsteps echoed on the deck as he approached Merlin, pinning him beneath the weight of eyes that matched the vault of the sky above their heads. The bronze-haired man took the wheel, keeping their course steady while also keeping one eye on the scene unfolding before him. Not that Merlin paid him much mind. He could protest all he wanted, but the captain had a presence. He was also younger than Merlin had first assumed. A year or two older than him, maybe, his face weathered by the elements, but handsome all the same. He stopped in front of Merlin, close enough that he could smell the faint tang of healthy, sun-warmed sweat over the brine in the air. Without thinking, Merlin straightened out of his habitual slouch, noting with some satisfaction that he was half an inch taller than the captain, and he did not have the advantage of boots. He looked like just the kind of man that would find that small fact endlessly aggravating, and Merlin could not bring himself to be sorry about it. 'Do you see that?' The captain pointed up, beyond the pregnant swell of the sails to the flags flying high at the top of the mast. Camelot's dragon was a splash of gold on an obnoxious crimson background, yet it was what fluttered in the breeze at the very peak of the flagpole that told its own story. 'Do you know what it means?' He wished he didn't. The Oriflamme was the twin-pointed, crimson banner of the royal houses. It was only flown in the presence of royalty. This man was of Camelot and too young to be Uther, which left only one possibility. The captain was none other than Prince Arthur Pendragon, heir to the throne.

[laurie-on-a-lark]

might be over now, but i feel it still

Rating: Explicit

Fandom: Merlin (TV)

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Summary: "The next day, Arthur begins to see an error in his judgments from the night before. It was fun, very fun, but there’s an ache inside of him, somewhere he is very unused to feeling pain. It’s a very general, ever present ache, and, though he’s loath to admit it, he likes it. Merlin’s talked about it before, how he likes that he can feel Arthur for a day or two afterwards, but Arthur never expected he'd experience that himself. ... Merlin is standing to his side, of course, and Arthur has steadfastly refused to make eye contact, but he can hear the way Merlin chokes back a laugh whenever Arthur winces."

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, First Time Bottoming, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Bottom!Arthur, Top!Merlin, Merlin is a Little Shit, Merlin's Magic Loves Arthur Pendragon, Sappy Arthur Pendragon

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49742080

[tiodolma]

Oh, this is fun! What if they end up in the Starz universe next? BBC Merlin wakes up as Lord Henry after having yet another nightmare of dying and BBC Morgana wakes up as Anna, a servant at the newly established Camelot.

Lord Henry comes in the company of his friend Lady Morgan, while Anna just serves people. Neither remember who they are until their eyes meet and Merlin and Morgana remember and both are cursing, because, dammit, seriously!?

It doesn't help that both notice that their counterparts are idiots.

hooo boy... these scenarios fkjafakj

im guessing Henry/Merlin is pretty much some kind of Lord

Anna/Morgana would be one of the women who took refuge in Camelot

sorry im too busy picturing colin morgan with long hair/scruff and luxurious cloak.while katie mcgrath wears simple medieval garments.

....

so basically lord henry is trying to look for his quarters before arthur's feast commence. when he finds his room (which is small) he bumps into the girl who was assigned by guinever. They both scream in pain and fall down. When they wake up they remember.

Henry: You!

Anna: You!

Henry: ...I know you

Anna: No

Henry: Morgana!

Anna: This can't be

Henry: It's you isn't it? Morgana? You..you look the same

Anna: What is happening to us, Merlin!?

Henry: You remember me!

Anna: You died! you died on me! and Arthur!

Henry: I didn't want to.

Anna: Wait... there is a Merlin in this world as as well.

Henry: I am Lady Morgan Pendragon's..friend and you live here...with King Arthur..

Anna: Oh no.

Henry: Oh no.

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

The items in the room shake, both their eyes grow gold and they hold onto each other.

Anna: You have to make it stop!!

Henry: I don't know how!

Out of fear he embraces Anna tightly and the magic seems to calm down. The objects stop moving. Guinervere bursts into the room in alarm and sees them in an embrace. They pull apart quickly

Guinever: Oh you two know each other?

Henry: Lady Gwen-Guinever, she was uh. helping me rest.

Anna: I-I'll take my leave (rushes out of the room)

............................

Starz Merlin senses a disturbance in the force.

Starz Merlin: Something is not right.

.............................

Henry hurries to the feast and gets teased for being a little late.

Lady Morgan: Ah Lord Henry here has taken a fancy to one of your ladies, dear brother!

King Arthur: I am glad you found pleasurable company here in my humble castle Milord.

Lord Henry: (chuckles nervously) ...she-she's a bright young thing um..sire. It is of no consequence.

Lady Morgan: Oh you must make sure Lord Henry is well attended to, Lady Guinevere.

Guinevere: (baffled) ...i-indeed

Merlin: (stares suspiciously)

Anna: (in mindspeak) what the hell are you doing! I now look like your whore!

Henry: (chokes on his wine and glances around the room) Morgana!? Are you listening in?! AND I CAN HEAR YOU IN MY HEAD! This is great!

Anna: I honestly thought wouldn't work

Henry: This makes things easier for us i suppose

Leontes: Milord perhaps you are searching for a certain dame tonight?

(everyone on the table laugh)

Henry: I was just marvelling at the.. wonderful interior.

Lady Morgan: (raises eyebrow) I am intrigued, Lord Henry. This is the first time I've seen you so besotted. Dear Guinevere, I suppose you can bring this wonderful servant girl in?

Guinevere: She isn't really a serving girl my lady. Anna a daughter of a minor noble that have sought refuge here after the raids. She helps me sometimes

Lady Morgan: Well then, get her inside. You don't mind Arthur, right?

King Arthur: meh, it's all good fun

,,,,,,

Anna is brought inside and made to sit beside Henry. They're both very nervous. Merlin can sense power from both of them but he couldnt understand. He keeps glaring bloody murder at the two.

......

FEAST END. MERLIN FINDS HENRY IN THE DARK

............

Merlin: What are you and what do you want? What did you do to Henry?!

Henry: N-nothing! I am Henry! You know me, Merlin! My father has been loyal to Uther for a long time! You knew me as a childe!

Merlin: (holds Henry's wrist and sees him kill the serving girl in one scene and embrace a dying blonde haired king in the same world. The scene changes and he sees Henry dying in the arms of the serving girl in another... A young blonde king lies on the corner, breathing) You.. what are you...

Henry: I...

Anna: MERLIN! (both men turn to her as she pushes starz merlin out the way and puts herself in front of henry) STAY AWAY FROM HIM!

Merlin: (crazed look in his eye. he tilts his head) You called him... Merlin...

Anna: No.. I.. I...

Merlin: You died... He killed you with a sword... Excalibur..

Anna and Henry both pale

Merlin: And then he died...protecting you... a queen...

Merlin: You are... a...

Lady Morgan: WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?

Merlin: ...Morgan

[theoakleafpancake]

Okay, I’m about to throw my dang phone across my room. Can someone please tell me what episode Uther dies, because I really REALLY want to watch him die.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

A New Kind of King

An alternative version of my alternative Kid Arthur concept:

Merlin doesn't catch up with Arthur until the man is already grown, and firmly middle aged. He and Morgan have remained friends all throughout childhood-- through Morgan getting kicked out by her homophobe parents at age 15, Arthur's injury that effectively ends his promising professional football/rugby career, and assorted adult trials and tribulations.

They've weathered it all, and now they live separately in London, with Arthur working construction and enjoying it fairly well. When his excavator unearths Excalibur, Arthur picks it up without thinking twice.

After that, things start... happening. Odd little moments he can't explain, glimmers at the corner of his eyes that are never there when he turns to look closer.

When Merlin announces himself, it's almost a relief to get the explanation he offers. King of Camelot sounds pretty rad. Merlin is certain to show Arthur the best glimpses of his past life as King of Camelot, enticing him into his role.

There's just one catch-- an evil witch, fated to destroy Arthur. If they can find her, and end her before her powers catch up to her, then Arthur and his true legend will rise.

Luckily, Merlin knows just where to find her.

He leads Arthur to the heart of London, to a gentleman's club. They find seats just as a new dancer comes on stage. As she begins to dance, Merlin points. "There she is."

The dancer is beautiful, and fully comfortable in her role. She moves with grace and power, and the audience sits, enraptured.

"She may not have her powers yet, but she has the old magic even now. Look at the way she wraps these weaker men around her finger. Another month, and they would turn on you at a single word from her."

Arthur takes a swig of his beer, and watches.

They close the place down, and as they filter out with the other stragglers, Merlin grabs Arthur's arm. "She's alone-- we should move now."

They slip in a back door, and find the dancer in her dressing room, still in a silk robe. "Um, excuse me?" she says, rising to her feet. "You can't just--"

She freezes when Arthur locks the door behind them.

"I'm very sorry about this, miss," Merlin says. "You may be a very lovely person, but if you knew what you'd become in just a few weeks time, you'd thank me."

"What?"

"He means to kill you, love," Arthur tells her.

"Oh? Well..." Morgan's eyes sharpen, then gleam in a languid smirk. "Fuck you too."

Now it's Merlin's turn to pause.

"We've known you were coming for some time now," Morgan delivers smoothly, even as her hands curl into fists. "I admit, I expected more than...." Her eyes rake him up and down. "This."

"The magic has spread more quickly than I anticipated. Arthur, quick, Excalibur--!"

His words die with sickening crunch, as Excalibur's blade thrusts through his back and out his front. His eyes bounce from the source of his end to Morgan, who steps forward with a frame shaking with rage.

"You presumed you would be the only one to remember Avalon, sorcerer. That you would be the only one to remember the times you've murdered me. Not this time."

She grabs him by his filthy, ragged hoodie, and leans in to look him dead in the eye.

"It's my turn to live."

When Merlin dies, he disappears like the magic he lives in. There's no blood, no trace he was ever there, save for the sword in Arthur's hand and the tremble in Morgan's limbs as she steps away with a gasping sigh.

"You all right?" Arthur asks, looping her into a hug she melts into. She nods against his chest. "That was him? The geezer from your dreams?"

She nods again. Those dreams she had as a child never went away. They only grew sharper, clear enough to discern the story they'd try to show her. And they'd been preparing ever since.

"Thank you, Arthur."

"What are friends for?" He presses a kiss to her hair and gives a final squeeze before releasing her. "Give Gwen a kiss for me."

"You meeting Lance later?"

Arthur nods. "Gwaine's back on shore leave-- we were gonna take him out for a pint before he ships off again. Think you might wanna join?"

Morgan smiles. "Just might."

When Arthur walks out of the familiar club a few minutes later, it's with a jaunt in his step and Excalibur propped comfortably on one shoulder. See, what Merlin had forgotten about Arthur is that he isn't interested in fame and glory.

He protects his kingdom first-- however small it may be.

[startrekin-it]

Anyways guys after 4 years i have finally decided to watch season 5 of Merlin...formally I didnt because someone spoilt the end for me and my literal thought process was “im physically not prepaired for this.”

Wish me luck

[s4pphoiduser]

gwen/arthur is weird like there is no chemistry between them ldldkdl gwen/merlin or gwen/morgana would be nice because like they actually know each other they regularly talk to each other gwen/arthur just kinda sprang out of nowhere and their romantic scenes make me want to crawl into a hole and live there forever

[nonbinarylowkey]

(mechtober day 15 - high noon over camelot)

for day 15 of @mechtober2022.

Summary: It had been a spur of the moment decision to invite the Pendragons over—a decision Mordred’s trying hard not to regret.

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

"We ain't gonna disappear if you look away." Arthur sips his tea—a gift from Lancelot—and stares at Mordred through the steam. His voice is casual, his shoulders relaxed. He looks like he hadn't caught Mordred staring, save the slight upward pull of the corner of his mouth.

Mordred forces his eyes to his own mug. The tea smells of flowers. He does not drink it. Relearning life in the light has been a slow process. He's still not used to others really seeing him, even after two years in Camelot.

"Not much for tea?" Guinevere asks. She runs a finger along the rim. One foot is propped up on her chair, knee tucked under her chin. She's smiling, too. 

For a moment, Mordred is lost in a memory—Guinevere, finished with her morning exercises, coming to sit across from him at the breakfast table, one foot on the chair, knee tucked under her chin like so; Arthur next to Mordred, Excalibur in pieces before him, carefully and painstakingly cleaning each component before putting it all back again; Lancelot on his other side, one arm slung casually across the back of Mordred’s chair, quiet, reassuring; and Mordred himself as a child, leaning over the table to better watch the process of reconstructing Excalibur, nearly knocking over and spilling the tea Lance set down in front of him.

The strum of Dinadan's guitar pulls Mordred back to the present. 

Lance is not at the table now. He's still stood at Mordred's gun rack, examining each and every piece Mordred's collected since he got to Camelot. Lamorak is with him, telling the stories he knows about their origins. Some are run of the mill, nothing special. But there's more among 'em that are rarer, diamonds in the rough that the average gunslinger might not give a second thought, 'cept that Mordred was taught almost from birth how to spot a quality firearm and how to restore what needed restoring. And then there's more still with no roughness about 'em at all—fine pieces that'd get more than a couple gallons of water easy if Mordred were inclined to sell. He ain't. If he can't shoot well enough to impress the Pendragons, he can at least collect well enough for it.

He forces himself to sip the tea, to not choke on the taste of home.

Arthur taps one finger against the table to bring Mordred's attention back.

"Were your parents collectors?" Arthur asks. 

"We moved around too much," Mordred shrugs. He feels comfortable saying that much. Most Wastelander families lived the same way. Then, because he feels the irresistible need for recognition, he decides to test the waters and adds: 

"We couldn't carry a collection with us, but my father had one antique he never parted with." Relic is the word Arthur had always used when Mordred was growing up. It's on the tip of his tongue, too, but he bites it back. Not many things can be rightly described as relics s'far as Mordred is aware. Unless he fully commits to revealing himself, it's best he minds his words.

Arthur leans back in his seat, head tipped toward the ceiling. One hand falls to his side, brushing over Excalibur. 

Mordred wonders what he's thinking about. Is he remembering his promise that they'd figure out the proper technique for making Excalibur's bullets so one day, down the line, it could be passed from father to child without worry its ammo would run dry long beforehand? Is he remembering coming home from the flooded sector, only letting go of his hard won prize for the first time since he'd laid hands on it to clutch his newborn to his chest? 

Mordred sips his tea.

"What happened to it? The antique." Arthur speaks to the ceiling. His tone is inscrutable.

Maybe Arthur is thinking about sitting around a table with his family, Excalibur laid out in pieces, and watching his kid attempt to put it back together from memory alone. 

Mordred had been so determined to prove he didn't need his parents to hold his hand all the time—that he could be as good at building as Gawain was at brawling and Gareth was at shooting and Agravaine was at complaining.

"Still with him, I'd guess. Wherever he is." He keeps his eyes fixed on the tea. He hopes the truth isn't written on his face. He hopes it is and his parents will confront him with it; that they'll force him to reveal everything so they can either reject or accept him instead of whatever it is Mordred’s got them doing now.

Lancelot, Dinadan, and Lamorak make their way to the table. Mordred breathes easier with Lamorak and Dinadan around. He made the right choice asking them to be here for this, rather than ask Gawain or Agravaine. He knows his brothers will give him an earful for hanging around people they hate, but they’ll have to deal with it. Less pressure from two people with whom he's got no familial relationship. Neither of them give a shit about Mordred coming clean to his parents 'cept as far as they care that Mordred is happy with his decisions.

And they're decent enough not to publicly question him when it's clear he isn't.

"And you still don't want help finding him?" Lance takes the seat to Arthur's right.

Mordred holds the mug tighter. The heat stings his fingertips. He shakes his head. "No."

Do you need help finding your kid? and I already know where he is; he's sitting right in front of me and if he wants me in his life, he can find me and I'm not ready for him to know the truth all run though his mind. ‘Course he can't say any of it; wouldn't do any good.

The Pendragons share a look that Mordred ignores, even though they're open enough with it he wonders if they want him to say something. Not for the first time, Mordred wonders if they all really do know the truth and they're—himself included—just too stubborn to be the first to acknowledge it. Dread and hope fill him in equal measure at that thought.

"Well," Arthur starts, holding Mordred's gaze. "You ever change your mind, you know where to find us."

Mordred nods and finds himself unwilling to look away until Lance cuts in—

"Come off it, Art. The kid said no." He nudges his shoulder against Arthur's; to Mordred he nods, deferential. "You’re packing some impressive heat, for a man who hates using it. You ever need someone to help fix ‘em up or test ‘em, you just holler.”

There's some part of Mordred that knows exactly what Dinadan is going to say before Mordred even sees the look on his face. It's the sort of corny joke Dinadan would never pass up when the opportunity arises, but Mordred's head is still so stuck on memories and emotion he can't react fast enough to stop Dinadan from drawling,

"If you think that's impressive, you should see what else he's packing."

Beside Mordred, Lamorak is unashamedly cracking up. “I think he’s been waiting to use that one for a while.”

Across the table, Gwen’s got tea coming out of her nose and Lance looks half a second from joining Lamorak. Arthur’s got his mug held up to his face again, looking very much like he’s trying and failing to play the calm and collected sheriff. It’s—nice. And despite the mortification worrying at the back of his mind, when Mordred meets Arthur’s gaze through the steam this time, he feels something he hasn’t felt in years.

He feels like he’s come home.

[the-kingshound]

The third Arch Deleted Scene

The snippet here is a bit rushed at the beginning and in some other parts, as I did not want to go into even more spoiler territory. If you want to send me asks about this please be sure to advertise them as spoiler at the beginning, since not everyone will want to read them.

SPOILER

TW: blood, injury, poisoning, strong language.

3rd Arch – the seventh Trial

 Your stomach was knotted by dark swirling anxiety from the moment Arthur announced the diplomatic visit. You were familiar with the House, it kept being, after all, one of the most influent beside yours before and after the Emperor’s fall. This did not mean anything, though. Your homeland was beautiful but deadly, ready to swallow anyone whole to quickly digest them.

You promised yourself you were going to be at Arthur’s side at all times, and that’s precisely what you are doing now.

 Four days in, and the only major threat has been the amount of people wanting to interact with you. For the most part, Arthur smoothly deflects them to himself, for which you are endlessly grateful. You’re not in the mood to socialize, instead you keep on high alert, especially against the House leader and formal Ambassador.

You do not think he will pull anything while you’re here, after all you grew up together and you respected each other deeply, but one cannot be too cautious when the King is concerned – as demonstrated by the multiple scars that litter your body. You would go through all of it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping your King safe, but all you can do for now is stay by his side and keep the risks at minimum.

For this reason, when the Ambassador proposes a meal together with both yours and his knights, you are instantly weary.

“I don’t like this one bit, Arthur.”

“Me neither,” agrees Evaine, all the while lazily making their dagger spin on the table.

“I don’t deny that is not an ideal situation. On the other hand, a wrong move on their part would jeopardise their own negotiation,” counters Arthur as Morien finally snaps, blocking Evaine’s wrist with a tight grip and hissing an irritated “stop fooling around, for God’s sake!”

Evaine pouts. Yniol ignores them in favour of the matter at hand “they are certainly going to outnumber us, but if they wanted to attack us head on they would have done so before now, there were better opportunities. MC?”

You really think it through before answering “I wouldn’t put it past the Ambassador to try something, direct or more subtle, while we’re so exposed and out of our physician. Lania is not the head of his House for nothing, but aside from that he was always particularly attached to the Empire. We can’t afford to underestimate him.”

“Yes, yes” interjects Morien, having by now freed Evaine’s hand and left the table, dismissing themselves from the meeting “I’ll be prepared in any case. I swear you manage to hurt yourselves everywhere we go.”

And so dinner begins. It is a boring affair, but you won’t let yourself relax until it’s over. You sip on your wine, closely inspecting the hosts for any sudden or unusual movement. You find none, but you stiffen and your brows furrows. There’s something strange in your mouth, something strangely… bitter.

Time seems to freeze in front of your eyes. With an uncoordinated, panicked movement you jerk on the table and bat away Arthur’s cup, spilling its content on the table.

You place your hand on the table to support you as you rise, your dilatated pupils numbly fixed on the red liquid that’s quickly staining the tablecloth. It feels like an hour but actually only a second has passed before you regain your senses.

“Seize them.”

Arthur and his Knights are no longer seated by now, but the Ambassador’s men have drawn their weapons as well and pointed them to your delegacy, effectively halting their movements. You see icy red and do not spare another glance at the man now placed on your back while you snarl in the envoy direction.

Placing your fingers on the hilt of your sword, you hiss an enchantment to track the magic residue and the culprit is revealed in front of your eyes. Ignoring the taste of iron on your tongue, you spit out another enchantment and the room’s door is locked close with a lout snap. They will not get away.

Unfortunately, you lack the ability to free Arthur and the Knights, you are now surrounded and painfully outnumbered, but you know they can hold on until you have taken care of the threat at hand. You cough blood and half crash on the floor, but you ignore the alarmed voices of your Knights and crawl in the Ambassador’s direction.

How dare he. How dare.

“My, Lord…”

“Let them,” a voice says to your back “they will not go far.”

“How dare you” your breaths are ragged, your intestines raw and burning, your voice rough for the acid that invades your throat. The Ambassador’s face is a mask of contempt and stony resolution. He watches, halting his men while they try to block you, as you half-crawl to him, gripping with iron strength the wooden chairs to keep yourself upright.

“I have the upper hand, King Arthur. I’m afraid you are in no position to make such demands.”

“Release us, and call a physician for my spouse, and I will consider letting this incident go without consequences.”

Arthur’s voice is steady, calm and there is only a hint of something sharper, at least for now.

You can’t see your King, but the sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine. They tried to kill him. The House you grew up to respect is full of nothing more than vile traitors.

As your strength start to waver, you lose your balance and crush to the ground with the chair you were pushing your weight on. Still, you get up again and you and fix your gaze on the second born, now Ambassador and traitor “I’ve had enough of you.”

You take a shuddering breath, your lungs filled with blood that’s now spilling over to your lips as you speak, but the pain you feel is nothing compared to the hot, blinding rage that’s consuming your every thought. Still, your voice is, as ever, cutting cold “you invite us here, offering a pacific discussion, and all you provide are poison in our drinks and weapons against my Knights and my King’s throat. You’ve exhausted my patience, Lania.”

You see him flinch at the use of his name. You remember a time long gone when you played together as kids, swearing you would be the ones to restore the Empire uniting your two Houses. Now these are broken promises and rotten friendships.

“MC,” the Ambassador says, “it’s over, you have to understand that.”

“Oh, you just wait,” interjects Evaine, almost immediately silenced by the Ambassador’s men.

You cough and choke on blood, and you can feel the physical weight of Arthur’s and the Knights’ worried eyes on your back, but you exhale and grip tighter your sword’s hilt. A wave of raw power invades your body and you are able to focus again.

“You know what I’m capable of, what I am willing to do for my King,” your voice is almost devoid of intonation, save for unforgiving hardness. His gaze falls on your non dominant arm and then on your throat, scarred by a thin horizontal line “I will gut you and feed you to my hounds. You’ll die like the backstabbing coward you are.”

They know as well as you do that you don’t make empty promises. There is a rustle around you that culminates in a sharp sigh from the Ambassador and swords pointed at your neck.

“Must we really do this, MC? I cared for you once, but you know that I will not hesitate to strike you down if you give me reason to do so.”

You don’t draw black nor move a single muscle, your eyes find Arthur’s blue ones and you find the King is dangerously immobile, his fingers brushing against Excalibur’s hilt in what could be mistaken for a soothing caress. When he speaks, his voice bears nothing else but firm command “you will not do that.”

Lania cocks his head to the side, appearing quite unbothered “oh?”

“How is your sister, Ambassador?”

At the same time as Lania stills, you blink. A violent cough than shakes your chest, and when your senses are fully back and you can breathe again Arthur has kept going with the same calm, calculated demeanor “I want to remind you that together with the Lord the wedded she’s now head of the Merthian feud, the nearer one to the south-eastern border.”

“What does it-“

“I am the one in control of the knights tasked with their protection. As per the arrangement we signed weeks ago, the border is under Camelot’s defence. But if I die, or if my spouse dies, my knights will retire, Ambassador.”

Oh, Arthur is not King for nothing. He is striking where it hurts the most – family – without even an drop of blood shed. You don’t hide a proud, feral smile at this. Almost immediately, blood invades your throat again, you can feel its taste on your togue, but you shove the pain back where it started in your burning stomach. You shiver. You love and hate seeing your King like this.

Lania swiftly unsheathe a long, curved dagger and you are immediately ready to bolt– swords to your throat be damned, you’ve had worse – but he makes no move in Arthur’s direction for now.

“Figured you had to hit low to get a reaction.”

“Release us,” Yniol commands, standing tall near the King.

“No” spits out Lania, his composure now fully broken “you stole our independence and our pride, Pendragon, you humiliated us and stripped our Houses of the opportunity to unite again. You are every bit of your father’s blood!”

He then turns to you, his eyes frantic, his expression pained and almost feral “I thought you were on my side!”

Blood rushes to your ears, a high-pitched whistle the only thing you’re able to hear at the moment. You feel sick. Sicker than before – sicker than what you’ve felt in years. You spit blood on the floor, your answer is weak and unnaturally subdued, “it was a- a long time ago.”

“We were like siblings!”

You can’t say anything, you only choke on your words. All that you manage to do is keep yourself upright only thanks to your sword.

“They are right, you really are your King’s hound, nothing more than Camelot’s bitch,” he tries the next word in his mouth like they were both foul and inevitable “the haghàn bajek*.”

Your vision is overcome by whit spots, your skin hot and freezing cold.

“Kill them all.”

You force yourself to focus. Protect your Knights. Protect your King.

After that it is pure, unbidden chaos. You tighten your grip on your sword, assessing where you’re needed the most. With the corner of your eye you spot Arthur, he’s a beautiful fighter, he is no match for – Lania.

Your magic flares alongside most of your nerve endings as you sprint in his direction, interjecting his blow with your own weapon. Unfortunately, the Ambassador is a skilled opponent and you’re already considerably weakened, all you can do is channel in your arms the strength of your steel determination to not let him reach your King.

“Stop trying to defend an enemy, MC!”

“Stop trying… to kill him.”

You are barely managing to defend yourself when Lania strikes back. You catch the dagger with your arm, it pierces through your skin just over your elbow but it won’t reach its intended target. No one will hurt your King while you’re still breathing. No one.

Pain paralyzes your arm, your breath is stuck in your throat together with a blood clot that feels intrusive and that fills you with panic. The finishing blow never comes, though. As you inhale again, you refocus on the room’s occupants and notice how Arthur’s Knights have the clear upper hand.

“Ah, and you thought you could beat the Round Table so easily,” Evaine all but purrs in a knight’s ear “that’s precious.”

“Stand down” Gawaine commands “you’re surrounded.”

You can hardly distinguish the shapes of your own knights, you’re nauseous, your stomach and throat are on fire. You fall down on your knees, exhausted and hurt. You feel like you’re going to throw up–

“MC’”

Where is Lania, where is –  

“Wh-where…?”

“Kai, get Morien here, please.”

Arthur’s voice is soothing, as ever, but tainted with worry. You can’t make his face out. There are arms supporting your weight, not his but equally familiar – Yniol?

“It’s going to be alright, dear.”

It’s the last thing you hear before the world goes black.

  *haghàn bajek = [REDACTED] traitor

[queerofthedagger]

these quiet nights

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon

Rating: G/A || Warnings: None || Word count: 1,500 || On AO3

Tags: Arthur Returned, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Injury, Established Relationship, Protective Arthur, Idiots in Love

Summary: The first time Arthur gets hurt after his return, Merlin doesn't take it well.

Merthur Week Day 3: “You’re hurt. Please, just let me heal it.” + Hurt/Comfort

*

The sound of the key in the front door floats to where Arthur’s standing in the kitchen, and he curses softly to himself.

“Arthur?”

Right, no time left to clean up the mess he’s made, not with the blood-soaked towel still wrapped tightly around his hand. He will just have to own up to being exactly as hopeless at cooking as Merlin always accuses him of being and deal with the endless amount of teasing.

“I’m here,” he calls, drawing up an innocent smile as he hears Merlin moving through the hallway. He has to suppress a wince at the sting of pain shooting through his hand where he’s pressing it against his chest—it’s not like he didn’t have much worse, but the knife had been rather sharp.

“Hey love, did you get my message about the dinner—”

Merlin breaks off as his gaze falls on Arthur, and all the colour drains from his face so quickly, Arthur’s afraid he might just faint. The picture is only worsened by how still Merlin’s suddenly become, except for where his chest starts to rise and fall increasingly fast.

“Merlin?” Arthur asks, not bothering to mask the worry that’s curling around his ribs, and he takes a step closer, pain all but forgotten.

“No,” Merlin presses out, choked, his hands beginning to tremble at his sides. “No, Arthur—no, not again, please I—”

“Hey,” Arthur interrupts, crossing the remaining distance in two quick strides. The sudden understanding of what Merlin must be thinking is crashing into him with the literal weight of centuries, and he’s sure his heart is struggling under the sudden strain. “Hey, I’m alright. I just cut myself while cooking.”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him; he’s still staring at Arthur’s chest with horror etched into every line of his face, his breathing shallow. “I can’t, Arthur, I—”

“Merlin,” Arthur repeats, louder, and he grasps Merlin’s shoulder with his uninjured hand. “Come on, look at me.”

Finally, he does, and Arthur aches at the utter panic in Merlin’s eyes. Leaning forward, he presses their foreheads together and trails his fingers along Merlin’s neck until he can card them through the nape of his hair. “I swear, I’m fine. All that happened is that 1500 years have done absolutely nothing to improve my skills in the kitchen. You may tell me that you’ve told me so.”

It takes long, agonizing seconds, but some of the tension starts bleeding off Merlin’s shoulders and he takes a few, deep breaths.

“Show me.”

Arthur’s first impulse is to protest, to keep the cause of Merlin’s stress as far away from him as possible, but he also knows Merlin well enough to be sure that it would only make it worse.

Merlin’s always been over-protective of Arthur, and—understandably—even more so after he’s had to wait centuries for Arthur’s return.

It’s the first time that blood is involved though, and Arthur wishes he would’ve considered to not soak his shirt in it, of all things.

“It’s nothing,” he says, but he draws back anyway, just far enough to unwrap the towel he’d haphazardly tied around his hand when he slipped with the knife. “It only bled a lot because I cut right into my palm.”

The wound is barely oozing blood anymore, but Merlin still takes his hand so carefully, one would think Arthur’s going to break any second.

In another time, Arthur might’ve teased him about it; now, he only watches closely as the fear slowly, finally seeps out of Merlin’s eyes.

Arthur’s heart feels too big for his chest, and he has to swallow a few times against the familiar guilt that’s crawling up his throat. “See? It’s barely a scratch,” he murmurs, and if his voice comes out hoarse, Merlin doesn’t seem to notice.

“I’ll heal it—”

“Merlin, really, it’s nothing—

“You’re hurt. Please, just let me heal it,” Merlin says, his voice teetering on the edge of panic again, and under different circumstances, it would be ridiculous how fast Arthur’s protest crumbles to dust.

“Yeah—yes, of course.”

Merlin’s fingers still tremble where they’re hovering over Arthur’s hand. He visibly swallows before his eyes turn gold, and the cut on Arthur’s hand knits itself together.

Even when there’s no sign of it left on his skin but for the remains of blood, Merlin’s staring at him as if he’s still expecting Arthur to drop dead or vanish.

Arthur bumps their heads together lightly. “See? All good.”

Exhaling in a rush, Merlin’s shoulders slump and he presses his face into the crook of Arthur’s neck. “Never scare me like that again.”

“I promise,” Arthur says, and as much as they both know that small accidents are bound to happen, he can’t help but mean it, can’t help how the naked terror on Merlin’s face is still replaying in his mind.

Can’t help but think how it was too close to the expression Merlin wore all those centuries ago, and that he’ll never touch a blade again if only it means that he’ll never have to see it again.

He turns his head to press a kiss to Merlin’s temple, his arms coming up to wrap around Merlin’s waist, tugging him closer.

Merlin makes a sound in the back of his throat that’s somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and the next second his lips are on Arthur’s in a kiss that’s just this side of desperate.

“What were you trying to do anyway?” he asks when they break apart, glancing over Arthur’s shoulder at the kitchen counter and raising a brow.

Usually, Arthur would feign offence at the obvious mocking, but all he can do is grin, the relief rushing through him so strong that it nearly makes his knees buckle.

By the goddess, they really are a bit of a mess.

“I wanted to cook for you. Because, you know, it’s been half a year since—” Arthur breaks off, turning his head away and cursing himself for the embarrassment that’s heating his cheeks despite all his resolve to not feel awkward about this.

Merlin stares at him for a second before a smile breaks out over his face, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheeks dimpling. He presses another kiss to Arthur’s lips and winds his arms around his neck. “Since you shoved me up against a dirty wall in some deserted back-alley, out of nowhere, and kissed me senseless for the first time?”

“Well, when you put it like that—”

“Oh, how would you put it then?”

“I’d say that after weeks of dropping hints—”

“Staring at me isn’t a hint—”

“—and it having no effect whatsoever, I simply chose a more direct approach.”

Merlin laughs softly, and the tidal wave of fondness that’s washing through Arthur at the sound is nothing new, but he still tightens his grip on Merlin.

They stand in silence for a while, wrapped around each other and only the distant sound of the city beyond the windows bearing witness.

Arthur’s not sure who’s comforting whom between the two of them, but then, it doesn’t really matter; the time where they’d pretend to not need each other is thankfully long in the past.

“Thank you,” Merlin finally whispers, a multitude of meanings wrapped into two words. Arthur can do nothing but nod, glad that his face is still hidden in Merlin’s hair.

“As much as I appreciate the thought, though,” Merlin adds, and the cheerfulness in his tone still has the faintest note of forced, “I don’t think I want to see you close to another knife today.”

When Arthur pulls back to look at him, Merlin’s smiling, but it’s brittle around the edges. Something must be showing on his face because Merlin frowns, rubbing a thumb over Arthur’s jaw. “Stop that. It’s not your fault I freaked out.”

“I could’ve—”

“No, Arthur, really. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself like this.”

He sighs, closing his eyes briefly before nodding. “Alright, but the same applies to you.”

A small huff slips past Merlin’s lips, but his smile has lost its strain. “Whatever my Lord commands.”

Arthur laughs, shaking his head and pushing him away. “Come on, let’s order some food and watch a stupid movie. I think we’ve had quite enough excitement for tonight.”

“You just want an excuse to not move for the rest of the night,” Merlin says with a grin, already grabbing his phone from the counter and moving into the living room.

Later, when they’re curled up on the sofa, Merlin’s head resting on his chest, solid and warm and familiar, Arthur thinks that Merlin is right; he’d take quiet nights between the two of them over any excitement the modern world could possibly offer him.

He makes sure to tell Merlin that, and when it finally dispels the lingering shadows in Merlin’s eyes, he vows to keep telling him for as long as it takes to vanish the fears too.

*

Thanks for reading! ❤️