#arthur pendragon one shot

[justaz]

merlin as the village tease/flirt who only ever has little flings with people (much like gwaine) and never develops feelings beyond “oh they’re cute” or “wow they’re a good friend” falling for arthur and having no idea what it means until lancelot has to spell it out for him and then merlin is just a mess. he has to hype himself up before so much as talking to arthur. he feels every time arthur even glances his way and as a result grows clumsier and clumsier to the point where people genuinely believe he was cursed by a sorcerer on one of arthur’s quests that he tagged along on. he can’t look at arthur and listen to arthur simultaneously bc he gets blown away by arthur’s beauty that the rest of the world falls away. pacing for like a solid minute outside arthur’s chambers before he has to wake him up for breakfast, the guards stationed outside watching him go back and forth and back and forth and back and forth and back and forth before one of them just opens the door for him.

[hannahhook7744]

Oh No! My Intervention! It's Broken!

Summary: King Arthur had tried to ignore Merlin’s not so slowly increasing visits to the tavern. But after Merlin's three day disappearance and reappearance he just can't ignore it anymore.  Merlin’s drinking has gotten out of control and their friends are all concerned. He has to do something. Or: Arthur tries to be a good friend by staging an intervention for Merlin’s non-existent drinking problem.  Trigger Warnings: Implied alcohol abuse and dependency, swearing, threats, etc. Inspired by this post. Merry Christmas @aconfusedvoid ! Hope you like it!

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Gwaine was, undoubtedly, going to hell for this. 

Oh sure, he had definitely earned his place down there long before today with all his drinking, galavanting, fighting, swearing, and wooing of many. But after today? He was most definitely, seriously, unequivocally going to a special place in hell. 

Why?

Well because Arthur was staging an intervention for Merlin because of a drinking problem Gwaine knew the younger man didn't have and the knight was enjoying every single moment of it like the little shit stirrer he was. 

The king had gathered the round table, Gwen, and even George for the intervention—saying that he was concerned for Merlin and his health and safety, and that he hadn’t invited Giaus because he was afraid the man enabled the behavior. He looked more and more embarrassed the longer he spoke, and honestly it would have been a pretty solid argument had Merlin actually been the alcoholic Arthur thought he was. 

Lancelot, Leon, Mordred, and George looked like they wanted the floor to swallow them up—which made sense since the four of them obviously knew what Merlin was actually up to. With George being an assassin, Mored being a druid, and Leon and Lancelot being extremely observant, and all.

Gwaine couldn't help but wonder if they knew that each other knew. 

He was willing to bet 20 shillings that the answer to that was no. 

Elyan, Gwen, and Percival looked just as concerned about Merlin as Arthur did and yeah, Gwaine was definitely going to hell for how much the whole thing made him want to burst out laughing. 

He was made all the more sure of it when Merlin entered with a pitcher and some cups, and stopped dead when he saw the looks on all their faces (Gwaine was sure it was obvious he was holding back laughter based on the glare Arthur was sending him). “If I didn’t know better, I would say this looked like an intervention.” 

Nobody said anything.

Merlin shot Arthur a betrayed look. “You told me this was a council meeting!”

Ah. That’s how he got Merlin to willingly come here.

Gwaine couldn’t help but snicker. 

Percival elbowed him in the side. 

“Ow! What was that for?”

“It was for you not taking this more seriously. Thank you Percival.” Arthur responded, rolling his eyes before turning his attention back to the subject of why they were all here. “Now, Merlin, I’m sorry for bringing you here under false pretences but I—we—are concerned about you.”

“I can see that. You don’t normally have interventions for people you aren’t concerned about.” Merlin scowled as George took the tray and pitcher from him, and crossed his arms. Giving them a baffled look. “What I don’t understand is why—”

“You have a serious problem, Merlin.” Gwen interjected. “Drinking to this extent isn’t healthy.”

The look of complete done-ness on the servant’s face was almost enough to make Gwaine start cackling again. He almost did when Merlin and Lancelot met eyes—no doubt having a silent conversation on how to get out of this mess. The only thing holding him back was the pain in his side from when Percival elbowed him. 

But oh how he wanted to.

He probably shouldn’t have found this as hilarious as he did. But he couldn’t help it—the whole situation was just so ridiculous in context. 

Gwaine knew he should intervene. 

But he didn’t. 

He would when he was needed. But for now, he was content with just sitting back and watching to see just how his best friend planned to get out of this.

“I don’t have a drinking problem.” Merlin sighed. 

“Says everyone with a drinking problem ever.” Arthur deadpanned, ignoring Gwen’s hiss of “Arthur!”

“What Arthur is trying to say—”Elyan cut in. “—is that we aren’t here to judge you. We just want to help you get better because we’re your friends and we don’t want you disappearing like that again because next time we might not be able to find you.”

“I am going to kill Uncle Gaius for this and then tell mother.” Merlin muttered, only loud enough for Gwaine to hear it seemed before addressing Elyan at a more natural tone. “Yeah…about that…”

“You always take on so much.” Percival frowned. “You take everything so hard and  you keep everything negative bottled up inside when you really shouldn’t—”

Merlin looked at Mordred, who have him a sympathetic grimace and Lancelot, who gave a ‘don’t look at me, you get us out of this’ look. 

“You should really tell them, Merlin.” George hummed, refilling Arthur’s drink. “He’s been planning this for weeks and they’ve all been oh so worried. They’d likely  be less worried if they knew the truth.”

The other servant looked alarmed. “How did you—”

“What are you on about George?” 

“What do you mean the truth—”

“Oh for Godsakes.” Leon grumbled, standing up. “Merlin isn’t an alcoholic, he's a sorcerer and he’s been disappearing so often because he’s always trying to save Arthur and the rest of Camelot. Now can we PLEASE just end this and pretend it never happened. This is mortifying.”

The room went silent. Dead silent, one might say. 

Gwen, Arthur, Elyan, and Percival all looked like several different things were all dawning on them at once—missing puzzle pieces no doubt appearing and sliding into place explaining things they had been suspicious of like too easily defeated foes, broken branches, and foes speaking in riddles that seemed to make no sense, for instance. 

Lancelot looked embarrassed. 

Mordred was staring at Leon in shock.

George refilled their cups as if nothing had happened.

All while Merlin stared at Leon gobsmacked. 

And just like that the damn that had been holding back Gwaine from laughing broke, causing him to have a fit. His laughter so loud that it echoed throughout the castle and the kingdom.

“YOU KNEW?!” Merlin screeched—eyes moving frantically from Leon to George to Gwaine, shock written all over his face. 

“All the servants in the castle know, Merlin.” The other servant rolled his eyes—actually rolled his eyes, which was the most emotion Gwaine had ever seen from the man other than when the meeting had started, that is. “How many times has Giaus scolded you loudly about being careful with your magic with the door wide open?”

Merlin swore, burying his face in his hands. 

“I told you.”

“Not the time, Lancelot. Gwaine! Leon! How did you two know?”

“You weren’t exactly quiet when you told the dragon to fuck off, Merlin.” Leon deadpanned, looking exasperated as if he wasn’t just as much of a menace. “Also I recognized Mordred as the druid boy Arthur spared. That along with the bandits tripping over nothing and flying tree branches, not to mention the Lamia not affecting you, made it very clear that you were dabbling in sorcery.”

“Strength.” Gwaine pointed at Arthur before pointing at himself. “And Courage. That makes you magic. Also plates don’t fly by themselves. I would also like to apologize for my previous bad faith comments regarding magic, I was trying to hide the fact that my sister had magic too and may have overdone it a bit.”

Lancelot stared into space, looking as if he was regretting every decision he had ever made in life. 

Gwen and Elyan were muttering to one another. Comparing stories. “It all makes so much sense.”

“That’s why Mordred called you EMRYS?! I just thought he was confusing you with the real deal because of how attuned with nature you are!” Percival sputtered, having an existential crisis. 

Merlin was two seconds away from a panic attack.

And Arthur?

He looked relieved. “Oh thank god you aren’t reckless enough to risk your life just for the sake of getting sloshed. I was afraid we’d have to lock you in a room to help you detox or something.”

“Arthur!”

“WHAT?!”

“You were gone for three days! We thought you were dead! Can you blame me—”

“How many times have I told you I’ve never been in the tavern?!”

“It was a genuine concern!”

[megafandombandgeekgirl]

So you know that scene in Season 1, Episode 13 Le Morte d’Arthur?

The one where Merlin is effectively telling Arthur goodbye because he’s not sure if he’ll make it back from fighting Nimueh?

You know, this scene-

Well, we all know that this episode was basically the epitome of Merlin stating his love for Arthur (see, “I willingly give my life for Arthur’s” and “I’m happy to be your servant until the day I die”).

But what if instead of Merlin just walking away to Arthur’s silence, the scene goes a little like this.

~~~~~~~~

“Any other pointers?” Arthur asked, glancing into his goblet again.

“No, that’s it. Just…don’t be a prat,” Merlin said softly, his gaze never leaving Arthur.

The prince stared at him at this, a curious expression on his face as he contemplated his servant.

Merlin turned to go then but before he reached the door, Arthur’s words stopped him.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Merlin stopped, not turning back, head bent. “Every moment is a goodbye, sire.”

“Wait. Come back here Merlin. What are you talking about?”

Merlin opened the door, still not glancing back for he knew if he did, he would tell Arthur everything. “I have to be going. I’m sorry. And- thank you. For everything.”

And then he was gone before Arthur could question him further. But Arthur being Arthur couldn’t let the feeling go that something was terribly wrong…

~~~~~~

And then of course, Arthur being Arthur, would have no choice but to follow him and after realizing what was wrong, do everything he could to help him.

Idk just thoughts. Merlin rewatch has me thinking….

[tiredcowboyy]

the next one shot I read that once im at the end makes me realise “oh this isnt a one shot its just an unfinished fic marked as complete” is gonna be my last straw of the year please dear GOD stop doing this or at least mark it as open ending

[escespace]

Comment:

Clearly entertaining! Bravo! I enjoyed reading this so much and I applaud how well grounded the medieval atmosphere is. Especially for the part of the contest to choose the court sorcerer. Every description of spells and characters in that fragment was delicately worded, I could see images of that scene very clearly in my head.

The first cut, where they explain Arthur's reaction to magic, was a success in terms of narrative, it really accentuated a good start for the rhythm and humor that the fic later presents.

I admit I get a little angry at Arthur as he continues to underestimate Merlin because HOW DARE HE?! However, I can never stay angry for long at the idiot, especially if he is as cheesy as in this fic. His pining is delicious, it doesn't go beyond the ooc but it remains in a princely internal gallantry worthy of fairy tales

And bravo for Merlin's displays of magic! I waited throughout the series for more scenes like the ones this fic describes. He deserved his "Wanda-switching-Scarlet-Witch" moment. (In his case, Merlin-switching-to-emrys) Demonstrating that he is pure power, a force of nature, the embodiment of his prophecies. There were hints of that in the series, but I imagine that, a he was still young, they didn't let him exploit his full potential. So it was very satisfying to read this fic where he freely overflows with power.

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gaius (Merlin), Lancelot (Merlin), Morgana (Merlin), Mordred (Merlin), Gwen (Merlin), Geoffrey of Monmouth (Merlin), Gwaine (Merlin), Leon (Merlin), Elyan (Merlin), Percival (Merlin), Lot (Merlin), Original Male Character(s), don't worry no OC is super important Additional Tags: Magic Revealed, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Post-Magic Reveal, Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), BAMF Merlin (Merlin), BAMF Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), magic legalization, Pining, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, they're so stupid guys, POV Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Emotionally Constipated Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Merlin (Merlin), Bottom Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), arthur likes that Merlin can beat him up I know this to be true in my heart, Everyone Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Canon-Typical Violence, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, War, Magical War, Blood and Injury, Kissing, Sexual Tension, Mild Sexual Content, Undressing, Rough Kissing, Restraints, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Angst, ITS MOSTLY FLUFFY ACTUALLY Summary:

Arthur sputtered. “I-I’m not sure that’s wise, I mean, no — I —”

Merlin interrupted. “That sounds like a good idea to me! No offense, but you guys are pretty useless against magical opponents.” He threw a smile at Lancelot that the Knight returned. “I mean, what’s the use having the most powerful sorcerer in the world on your payroll if you don’t use him?”

-OR-

5 times Merlin tells Arthur he's the most powerful sorcerer in the world, and 1 time Arthur believes him.

[apinchofm]

Love is a Battlefield

Camelot is falling and yet, Arthur has one thing on his mind.

Or the alternative royal wedding.

[aletterinthenameofsanity]

Merthur fic/playlist!

So when I finally got back into fic writing back in early October (can't believe it's been that long!) I started out with this four-part Merthur fic (it's one continuous AU where each of the four parts tackles an event that should have happened: in order, a love confession, a magic reveal, a reconciliation with Morgana, and taking down Uther). It's deliciously angsty and tender and the playlist greatly reflects that.

Excerpt:

Arthur's gaze is unnerving. It is wretched. It is impossibly close as Arthur leans in and their lips connect, a salty communion, a bitter goodbye, the sweetest of surprises, the sourest of reminders.

Arthur's kiss digs. It burrows beneath Merlin's skin and into his heart and shoves its roots in and he gasps into it, knowing that he will never be able to hold onto it.

Arthur goes to pull up, to pull away, and Merlin's hand shoots out instinctively, without thought, to grab the back of his neck and pull him back.

Merlin is a weak, craven creature, he knows. He is owed nothing save the other side of his coin. His destiny says nothing about love. It says pretty much the opposite, in fact, condemns him to be a lonely shadow to the greatest King to ever walk Albion's stones.

He should let go. He should let Arthur have his future with Gwen, his Kingship without nasty ties to sorcerous servant men who have three strikes against them in terms of love.

But even as his fingers slacken, Arthur's grab his and hold tight, tugging him close, holding him closer.

[junemo10]

Hiii! How about merthur and 13 for the ask game??

Hi!! Thank you so much for the Ask, I hope you are well! This got a little long, but the thoughts kept flowing and I got too excited about it, so I hope you enjoy my spin on the prompt! 💖

Sending you love ❤️💕❤️💕❤️

Ask Game: Write a Kiss…

13. discreetly

Arthur was never raised with the utmost affection. Anyone who had ever met his father could probably guess this. He grew up without affectionate touch, just the strong grip of his father forcing his every thought in the path of his future kingdom and the duties he would fulfill.

Arthur never really thought about it, how much affection a simple touch could hold, how much he desired to know what it felt like to have what most considered a natural way to communicate. Not to be earned through merit and trials, but to be gifted through trust and love.

It truly wasn’t until the worlds most unprofessional manservant was assigned to him that he even began to wonder. From the moment they met, they shared a touch that sent a tingle up Arthur’s arm. Albeit, brief and confrontational, Arthur couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling he had, thinking of the pretty looking man with funny looking ears sticking out the sides of his head.

Once Arthur happened to find himself unwillingly adopting the man into his service, the feeling only increased further. It was clear the man had never been a manservant before. Merlin’s hands were unpracticed and clumsy as he would help the prince into his armor, or tie his tunic, or brush his hair into place. Every slight touch that Merlin’s hands touched Arthur’s skin was a jolt, a shock and a strange curiosity. It wasn’t the practiced precision of the maids Arthur was used to, the slow distanced adjustments and objective necessity. Merlin’s way was always, different.

Though Arthur would never admit it, he didn’t dislike the way Merlin preferred to do things. Merlin’s touch was gentle, it was kind, it was caring- in a way that didn’t say “I’m helping the king-to-be” but almost saying “you are cared for”. Merlin always made him feel cared for, even when he could be the grumpiest, most annoying, Prince in all the lands. Merlin would take a gentle hand, smooth out the wrinkles in Arthur’s shirt, brush a few hairs out of place and put Arthur in place with his words about what a “right prat” he was being. But his comforting touch, never changed. As if Arthur was always worthy of it, no matter what.

As time changed, Merlin got better at his duties. No more was the clumsy grasping hands, or the crash of armor against the ground. Merlin’s hands had become decisive, practiced, and, dare Arthur say it, professional. It was like Arthur was a puzzle that Merlin had mastered again and again, until it was something he could do in his sleep.

Yet, even in the monotony of the task, Merlin found ways to ingrain those caring touches into the work. A swipe of the thumb along his wrist, a brush of his knuckle against his neck, a steadying hand on his back, fingers grazing his forehead as he pushed his hair into place.

Arthur watched Merlin closely with a curious eye, and tried to discern whether he was doing it on purpose. A few times, he would catch Merlin’s eyes, like when he was standing in front of him or when their eyes met in the mirror, and Merlin would blush and look away as if caught in the act. The act in question, Arthur wasn’t quite sure.

That is until all was revealed in an explosive fashion, which happened to be Merlin’s style. The magic reveal, the love confessions, the fear, the shame, the love. Then everything clicked into place and made sense. All the slight touches, they were affection. They were Merlin’s way of showing affection.

Merlin taught Arthur about affection, about how he deserved to be loved, about how a simple unknowing touch could say “I’m worried about you” or “I’m here for you” or “I love you”. Because while in the privacy of Arthur’s chambers they could say and do as they pleased, it was like they were in their own little world.

The world beyond, however, they couldn’t risk it. At least not until Arthur was king. For the sake of keeping Merlin safe, even though to Merlin it was to keep Arthur safe. No one could know that Merlin had magic, or that he had Arthur’s heart.

At first Arthur was anxious, worried if it showed on his face, or in the interactions he and Merlin had. It became clear, though, that they were able to continue their normal habits without anyone being the wiser, as they had always been a peculiarly close pair. A shove to the shoulder, a nudge of a leg, a tap on an arm, a ruffling of hair.

Arthur became more aware of how much more it represented now. Slowly, as they got more comfortable, they got bolder with it too, sneakier. Almost like a game with how affectionate they could be.

This sudden change, also included something they had never done before: kissing.

In the privacy of Arthur’s -their- chambers, they could explore each other with a freeing lack of worry. But outside of the chambers, they had to be more cautious. Arthur never wanted to risk it, for merely attempting to sneak a kiss was too much for Arthur. However, Merlin felt more daring at times, no matter how much Arthur scolded him for it.

It started when Arthur had a bad hunt, out with the knights in the woods. There was no sense of privacy amongst their bedrolls, or sitting near the fire. But when Merlin bent down to hand Arthur his stew, Arthur felt the familiar weight of a kiss pressed to his hair. Fleeting, gone quickly, but comforting nonetheless. Arthur froze, glancing around at the knights, but if anyone had seen it, they made no indication. Arthur raised his eyebrows at Merlin, trying to look stern but he was sure the grateful look in his eyes gave him away by the grin Merlin sported.

From then on it only increased. A kiss to the wrist as Merlin worked Arthur’s glove onto his hand, a peck to the neck as he adjusted Arthur’s armor, lips brushing his hair as he refilled his cup, a quick smooch to a bruise as Merlin tends to an injury on the training field, a touch of lips to his finger when Arthur scolded Merlin in front of the knights and stick it out in front of his face.

Arthur would never get enough of his idiotic warlock, no matter how many heart attacks Merlin would give him.

“One day, I promise you, we won’t have to hide or worry about how much affection we show each other,” Arthur vowed as he laid into their bed and pulled Merlin into his arms. Merlin yawning as he was gently guided, pliant in his tiredness from the day, melted into Arthur’s touch and molded into his side.

“I know, Arthur. I can’t wait for that day,” Merlin smiled brightly, cupping Arthur’s face in his hand. He raised his eyebrow comically, a teasing smirk on his face. “And until then, discreet is my middle name,” finishing off with a wink.

Arthur couldn’t help the cackle that escaped his chest, pulling Merlin’s arm until he was practically laying on top of Arthur.

“My sneaky little warlock, I love you so.” And without any further thought, he pressed his lips to his lover’s, feeling all the love in affection he could ever ask for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

💖 thank you for reading! Please send me an ask for the ask game: Write a Kiss

[thekingspersonaldumbass]

Wrote another merthur one shot but this time its staying a one shot lmao

Summary:

Merlin finds himself needing one of Arthur's keys for whatever magical endeavor he's on but as he tries to steal from Arthur's room, the prince himself and Gwen walk into the room, Merlin hiding himself in Arthur's wardrobe when Arthur admits the very thing Merlin had been waiting to hear for months; that Arthur was in love with him.

Basically a fluff fic

[boggywitchin]

The Fear of Losing Him

“I’m sorry.” Arthur choked out. “I was so scared.. when you left, I-“ Merlin felt something warm and wet fall onto his shoulder. Arthur was crying.

Merlin said gently, “It’s normal to be afraid of death, Arthur.”

“I wasn’t afraid for me.” Arthur whispered “I was afraid for you. I was afraid of losing you. Please.. let me stay like this for a little while. I need to know you’re actually here.”

--

The Fear of Losing Him (4557 words) by Boggywitchin

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Merlin (TV)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Characters: Merlin (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Gaius (Merlin), George (Merlin)

Additional Tags: Gay Sex, One Shot, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Neck Kissing, Insecure Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Top Arthur Pendragon/Bottom Merlin (Merlin), Merthur - Freeform, Comfort, Fluff, Morning After, Banter, Slow Burn Vibes, Caring Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Hugging

Summary:

Overwhelmed from their latest battle, Arthur seeks Merlin out; he just wants to hold him for a second, a minute at most.

[rosekiller-addict]

Important!!

Okay so I'm thinking of writing some sort of Merthur thing on here, kinda like a collection of one shots (thing the length of the longer headcanons I post) that all line up in some sort of story about Merthur.

Would y'all read it? If so please let me know by either commenting, liking, reblogging or just telling me personally.

Thank you guys so much!

-Lyric

[hehewh0r3]

Call It What You Want

My castle crumbled overnight

I brought a knife to a gunfight

They took the crown, but it’s alright 

All the liars are calling me one

Nobody’s heard from me for months

I’m doing better than I ever was

‘Cause

Arthur never thought that he’d come back, many years later, and manage to become King again. Especially in England, well specifically a small part of England. He rules the kingdom where users of magic (if they still exist) are protected and safe, people have rights and choices, and there are gardens that have a multitude of crops that anyone can use if needed. His bedroom is big, it rivals a football field with a bed that’s made from special fibers and memory foam. Arthur’s still getting used to all the new revelations and technology that now exists, far different from when he ruled Camelot. His closet holds thousands of clothing items, thousands of shoes, and everything that’s made for King. Everything was great, his people loved him, crime rates were down, people were accepting magic, and it was peaceful. 

Until Morgana managed to come back as well, with a fire that made the sun shrink. Arthur was slightly hopeful that maybe he’d get his sister back and welcomed her with wide arms and a glowing smile. It was going great, for a while, and Merlin came back to him. Merlin, the most powerful, and beautiful sorcerer to live. Merlin, the tall, lanky, pale skin, a raven-haired man that Arthur’s always loved- with every atom in his body. Merlin ruled next to him, A King and a Court Sorcerer ruled the kingdom and Arthur thought nothing could go wrong. He was extremely wrong. Morgana had slowly been turning everyone against Arthur and Merlin, causing the kingdom to overthrow both men, and everything Arthur built, and worked for, came crumbling down. They took Arthur’s crown, they tried to murder Merlin because they thought he was planning on annihilating everyone. Merlin, who uses his magic to flourish crops, makes small butterflies and figures of dragons to make kids smile. They called both men liars and banished them with only a few bags and the money Arthur’s been hiding away. 

The two managed to find a small cabin that was abandoned, rather far from the Kingdom but in the most beautiful spot. Plenty of trees towered and created shade, colorful flowers bloomed and created a portrait, and animals roamed. The river next to them roared, fish swimming through the currents and frogs on lilypads. 

“Arthur, you’re the best King the world has ever known,” Merlin speaks softly coming up behind his lover and wrapping his arms around him. Merlin presses his chest into Arthur’s back and kisses his shoulder lightly. “You ruled Camelot with passion, and you ruled Westshire with love and peace,” Merlin knows Arthur probably isn’t listening, he knows the blond is probably in his head thinking of how he fucked everything up. Merlin knows Arthur is beating himself down to the point where if Merlin doesn’t do something he’s afraid Arthur won’t come back to him. 

“They tried to kill you, Merlin,” Arthur’s voice cracked as tears started to cloud his vision. He never cries, but the possibility of losing the love of his life is enough to make him break. Back in Camelot, when they went on hunting trips and Arthur had multiple panic attacks due to Merlin getting into deathly situations. “Yeah I lost my crown, we lost the Kingdom, but I almost lost you,” Arthur turns around and crushes Merlin into a hug, burying his face into his chest and sobbing. Letting the anger and sadness roll through like rocky waves and letting his body shake. His grip gets tighter as if he’s afraid the moment he lets go, Merlin will be gone. 

“But you didn’t my love,” Merlin coos placing a kiss on the other’s head and rubbing soothing patterns on his back. His magic is screaming to come out and ruin everyone who hurt the man in his arm. His magic wants to rip the world apart for making Arthur cry. Yeah, Merlin knows that their normal banter is important, but Arthur’s always been a sucker for softness during stressful and hurtful times. “You didn’t lose me, I’m right here and I will be by you for the rest of your life,” He didn’t say our because Merlin’s immortal and Arthur is still human. He may have come back as the same age when he died, but he’s aged a bit now. His beard was a little grown out, and wrinkles littered his face. 

“You know, we can make a living in this cabin,” Arthur eventually stops crying and just sniffles as he leans back, making sure his hands never leave Merlin. “We can decorate it with your magic, and we have plenty of money for necessities and we won’t have to work for the rest of our lives,” The air in the room shifts from tension to cozy, to comfy, to safe. “The forest is beautiful, you’ve always loved nature and there are lots of animals we can see and we can get a dog,” He knows he’s rambling, but losing his Kingdom is the best thing that’s happened. “Merin, we can live our lives peacefully here and nobody has to hear from us,” Arthur lets his excitement slip through as his blue eyes dance with hope as he looks into those gorgeous, deep blue eyes that are slightly glazed. “Or not, that’s probably a dumb idea I’m sor-” The blond gets cut off by a kiss and it’s probably the best kiss they’ve shared. It’s slow, it’s filled with hope and promises and it causes Arthur to feel light like he’s flying. His skin is burning and his heart is soaring like a jet. 

“Of course we can you dollophead,” Merlin smirks as he pulls back, keeping his hands on Arthur’s face, rubbing his thumb gently. “I love you, I’ll always love you, and I can’t wait to live my life with you in our home and wake up every morning to your face.” 

My baby’s fit like a daydream

Walking with his head down

I’m the one he’s walking to

So call it what you want,

Call it what you want to

They stayed in that cabin for a couple of years, they had dinner together every night. Arthur would hold Merlin while they laid on the ground so Merlin could watch the stars, and they never matched Merlin’s beauty. They would hunt a little for food, but the majority of the time Merlin whipped up something with his magic. They got a dog after a year of living there and named her Maple. She was a puppy, with a fluffy coat mixed with different shades of brown, and wide eyes that made anyone fall in love, and loyal. All three went to sleep together, woke up together, and Merlin would practice and Arthur would write. 

He started writing in a journal, just his thoughts and feelings at first. Then, he started writing about Merlin. He started writing about how breathtaking Merlin is. How beautiful Merlin is when he’s tripping over nothing and (not so) gracefully catching himself. How beautiful his gold eyes are when he’s using magic, and the smile that’s full of life and freedom that always appears when he’s either staring at Arthur, petting Maple, or using his magic.  He’s always thought that Merlin was a daydream, full of want and need and love. Full of peace and safety. He still thinks that Merlin is the best daydream he’s ever created, and he can’t believe he gets him all to himself. 

Eventually, Merlin got restless and Arthur knew it was time to move. He loved the woods, and how it was the three of them with no distractions or troubles. But, Merlin’s always been a social butterfly, and he needs to be around people. So after two years of no contact with people, and doing better than ever, they moved to America. They moved to a small town called Carmel-by-the-Sea in California. It was a small town, with a grand ocean that homed dolphins and seals. The houses looked like cottages out of a fairytale and nature was blossoming. The people were nice, they welcomed Merlin and Arthur with open arms and made them feel at home. It was small, quiet, no trouble, and Merlin was in love. He loved how small it was with the right amount of people who radiated positive vibes. Merlin fell in love when he saw little kids play with magic, and how everyone just supported them and taught them. 

They got a rather tiny home, with a big enough yard where Maple could run and play and get pet by the kids who would walk by. The walls were scattered with pictures of Merlin and Arthur and Maple, and cheesy signs. Their kitchen was warm and Arthur was making cookies every day and even finding recipes for dog cookies. Their bedroom was just right like it was made for them. The closet was big enough for their clothes, and their bed was wide enough that Maple could sleep between them if she got scared. They had a flat screen on the wall, that was used to watch trashy dating shows and play music while the two men did their own thing. Merlin would paint, and Arthur would play guitar. Arthur never thought he’d play guitar, but one day Merlin looked at someone playing a guitar with admiration and Arthur knew he had to learn it. Turns out, he was a rather fast learner. 

Arthur got a job at a bakery in the middle of the town, called Amelia’s Bakery. He was in charge of making the pastries and displaying them creatively. He loved it, he ended up learning everyone who came in and kept up with their lives. Amelia was an 80-year-old woman who called Arthur her son and even left him the Bakery when she passed. Merlin didn’t have an official job, but he did end up teaching people how to use their magic and he would put on magic shows every night for the kids. He would use his magic to make sure everyone’s grass and plants stayed alive and occasionally help heal someone. Merlin’s favorite place was a little bookstore. It was dusty, looked like no one’s been in ages and it was absolutely perfect. The shop owner ended up being Amelia’s husband, and when he saw how happy Merlin got and saw how much time he spent there, he gave the store to Merlin. Merlin didn’t want to accept it at first but eventually accepted when he realized it was almost the old man’s time to go and he wanted to be with his wife. Merlin used his magic to dust the bookstore and straighten up the books. He added some new furniture and brightened up the place. Soft, jazz music played and all the people in town would come in to read books and talk about them and there was even a book club every Friday night. 

Merlin is beautiful, Arthur knows that. He’s stared at his lover’s face for countless of hours and can draw it with his eyes closed. Arthur knows that Merlin’s the most breathtaking person on Earth, he’s so handsome that Aphrodite must’ve created him. Arthur also knows that a lot of people love to hit on Merlin. Who wouldn’t? From his spacious blue eyes that mimic the sky to his mouse ears that turn red anytime Arthur flirts with him. Merlin is a beautiful person, and he’s also completely set on Arthur. Thousands of people have approached Merlin to flirt with him or pick him up, but Merlin doesn’t even give it a second. Not because he’s oblivious, no he knows what’s happening, but his heart belongs to Arthur and Arthur only. Merlin’s mind, body, magic, everything about Merlin belongs to Arthur and no one could even dare to compare to the former King. 

Arthur knows that no matter where they’re at, no matter how far, Merlin will walk to Arthur and it makes Arthur have butterflies and a sporadic heartbeat. Everyone always asks how long they’ve been together, and they’re always confused about it. They’ve never actually had a talk about what they were, as they’ve always been just Arthur and Merlin, Merin and Arthur. They didn’t need to have a conversation, they knew that no label could encapture what they are to each other. Two sides of the same coin, made for one another. So people can call it what they want; husband, lovers, friends with benefits (actually that one Merlin always takes offense to because it makes Arthur sad) because Merlin and Arthur are just Merlin and Arthur. 

All my flowers grew back as thorns

Windows boarded up after the storm

He built a fire just to keep me warm

Arthur has rough nights. There are nights when he wakes up gasping for breath and his nails claw at his throat. There are nights were Arthur wakes up feeling like he’s being stabbed or worse, losing Merlin. His mind has remained frazzled, scattered like a puzzle, despite how happy he is with his life now. How happy he is that Merlin is always next to him and he gets to wake up to that dopey smile. When the weather hits a certain temperature, Arthur shuts down and curls up in his mind feeling hollow. Merlin knows this, Merlin always knows when his lover is about to slip into a dark place, and he’s always prepared. He makes tea appear with the snap of his fingers, made just the right way, and some fresh cookies. He lowers his voice and slows down his movements so as to not startle an already on-edged Arthur. When Arthur feels Merlin’s arms around him, feels Merlin’s energy it brings him out of the cold, dark place in his mind. It’s like he lights a fire inside of him that protects him from the shadows. 

Merlin has bad nights, nights where he can’t fall asleep because if he closes his eyes god knows what will pop up. From the choices he made in Camelot, to the choices he made when he was waiting for Arthur to come back to him. It haunts him like an angry ghost that’s tied to him forever. Merlin has days where he withdraws from the world and curls up in his spot on the couch. Where Maple lays her full weight on him to bring some warmth and ground Merlin from slipping away. Arthur knows when Merlin’s about to slip into that awful place when Merlin is letting everything pile on him and suffocate him. And, Arthur is always ready. He lowers the lights, turns on rain noises, and wraps Merlin up in blankets. He wraps him in a cocoon and holds him, making sure his grip never wavers. He whispers sweet nothings and sometimes sings and Merlin feels the darkness go away when he’s with Arthur. 

I want to wear his initials 

On a chain ‘round my neck

Not because he owns me

But ‘cause he really knows me 

Which is more than they can say 

Arthur’s never been one to show affection in public. He’s not one to parade their relationship; and Merlin’s usually the one who gets matching clothes, jewelry, and Merlin’s the one to always have his hands somewhere on Arthur. But, lately, Arthur’s felt a need to show he belongs to Merlin. Maybe because there was an incident where someone tried to flirt with Merlin and persuade him to leave Arthur. Or men like to his on Arthur and think they own him.

“What do you think about me wearing your initials around my neck?” Arthur asks, breaking the silence that had settled in the house. Taylor Swift was playing softly as Arthur fell in love with her music a long time ago. “I belong to you, I’m only yours and I want everyone to know it.” And Arthur does belong to Merlin. His mind, his body, his soul, everything that makes Arthur belongs to Merlin. A blush creeps on his cheeks, as he keeps his eyes down on the guitar he was fiddling with a while ago. He knows Merlin probably won’t make fun of him, but this is also out of his comfort zone. 

“Or I could just give you multiple hickeys that are impossible to hide,” Merlin smirks, glancing up from the book he was reading curled on the couch. Maple with her head on his lap. “That would show people that I own you, especially those touchy men who think they have a right to you,” A growl escapes his lips, his magic revving up as if there’s an active threat around. Merlin knows Arthur is handsome, he also knows that he’s different from how he was in Camelot. He’s a lot softer, wears softer clothes, and has gained a little weight. His voice has gotten softer, and Merlin feels the happiness that Arthur feels safe enough to let down his walls and be his true self. 

“Merlin!” Arthur chokes on his spit and is now blushing a ruby red. His body warming up and his clothes suddenly feel a little tight. He’s always known he was submissive, but he never allowed himself to really pursue it because he had masculinity and dominance beat into him as a child and teen. But, now that Merlin is there, and there’s no judgment he can give himself over to Merlin without the panic he used to feel. He also loves when Merlin gets possessive. 

“Come on, you know you love the idea baby,” Merlin lowers his voice, to a sultry tone that flows like honey and he knows he’ll have Arthur into a puddle. “But, I do like the idea of you wearing my initials, I love to let people know you’re mine and only mine,” Merlin looks back down at his book, quickly trying to change the tone so Arthur doesn’t get horny. Arthur’s been feeling a bit down lately and he knows that Arthur wouldn’t be up for anything and he would never force it. 

“And you could wear mine?” It comes out soft, so soft that Merlin struggled to pick it up. “Because you’re mine, and I love you and I want people to know you’re mine,” Arthur is proud of himself that he didn’t stutter like he normally would. 

“Oh Arthur, of course, I’ll wear your initials,” Merlin speaks just as softly, looking up with wide eyes that are filled with love and affection. “Come here,” He puts a bookmark in his book and sets it on the table before shifting and opening his arms to make room for Arthur. Arthur puts his guitar up and stumbles over, excited to feel Merlin’s arms around him. Arthur sits on the couch, making sure not to disturb a sleeping Maple and he practically lays his entire body weight on Merlin. Merlin loves when Arthur does that, because it provides warmth and because he can’t get enough of Arthur. Arthur’s scent, his milky skin, and when Arthur is on him all is right in the world. 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

[slowroad]

Ten years

Author: slowroad93

Title: Ten years...

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Arthur/Merlin

Characters: Arthur Pendragon, Merlin Emrys

Summary: It's been ten years since Arthur became the king of Camelot. As he dwells on his memories and regrets, Merlin shows him that it's okay to let the past go and move on.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 996 words

Prompt: Milestone

Written for: Camelot Drabble

Ten years…ten years I have been King of Camelot. It’s been a tumultuous time. There’s been war and bloodshed, much of which I might have prevented, had I known about Morgana’s magic and the fact that she was my half-sister long before I did, had I only talked to her and made an effort instead of blindly following my father on his self-destructive and ultimately pointless war on magic. Morgana’s been dead five years now and with her and Mordred gone, Camelot is at peace and so is Albion. The last five years have been peaceful, my people have prospered, magic has been restored to its rightful place and no one has any reason to hide or to be afraid any more. We have more friends than enemies these days and now that that people have stopped trying to kill me at every turn to avenge something that my father did to them, I can rest easy.

It's not a bad list of accomplishments, I think to myself as I stand at my window and watch the sun come up. There’s a big celebration planned today. The Druids are visiting, Queen Annis is here with her entourage and so is King Olaf, who’s relaxed considerably, now that his daughter is safely married. Queen Mithian will be here as well, with her spouse and so will Princess Elena. I think fondly of Elena and Mithian. I’m glad they’ve both found someone who makes them happy. I thought I would have found someone too, by now, but I continue to be depressingly single.

After Guinevere told me that she was flattered by my attention, but that she wanted to be with Lancelot and not me, I gave up looking. Okay…that’s not entirely true. I realised after she left me that she was right. I had never actually been in love with her. I’d liked her a good deal and thought she’d make a wonderful queen, but I’d been in love with someone else entirely. I still am, if it comes to that. I just haven’t found the courage to tell him yet. I’m not sure I’m worthy of Merlin. He’s been nothing but loving and loyal in all the years that I’ve known him.

As a prince I was selfish and capricious, I stood by him one day and treated him like he was nothing to me the next. And when I became the King, I pushed him away, choosing to listen to that traitor Agravaine instead of Merlin. Why he continued to stay with me, I will never know. Things changed, I changed after he saved my life yet again in the final battle after Modred stabbed me and I fell. I’ve spent the last five years trying to prove to Merlin that I can be good and kind, that I can be a true friend and love him as steadfastly as he loves me. I sigh as that familiar ache settles in my chest. I feel it every time I think about Merlin.

There’s a knock on the door. I assume that it’s my manservant. I’m surprised to see Merlin instead. My heart lifts and I smile. He’s carrying a tray with tea and cake on it.

“Good morning,” he says cheerfully as he puts the tray on the table.

“Morning. What are you doing carrying food around? Why didn’t you get a servant to do that for you?”

“Because I wanted to do it myself. I wanted to share the morning with you without any nosy servants around.”

That makes me smile. “Thank you,” I say, as I take a chair.

Merlin sits down and pours the tea. “I wanted to get you alone for a while before the festivities start and things get busy,” he says.

“That’s thoughtful of you, but then you’ve never been anything less.”

Merlin quirks an eyebrow at that. “What’s on your mind?” He says.

“Just thinking about today…about the last ten years.”

“It’s been interesting, hasn’t it?”

“That’s one word for it.”

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Not entirely. There are a few things I’m not proud of, particularly the way I treated you.”

“I think you can forgive yourself for those things now. I know I have.”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve changed, Arthur, and it’s made me so happy to see. Now if you will just quit feeling bad about who you used to be, we can both be happy.”

“Aren’t you happy now?”

“I am. But I need you to stop torturing yourself over Morgana’s death, stop wondering about everything that you could’ve done differently and I definitely need you to stop feeling guilty about the way you treated me in the years that led to that final battle. All of that is in the past and it shouldn’t, needn’t affect the present. Today is the tenth anniversary of you being King. The people are happier than they’ve ever been. They want to celebrate. I want to celebrate.”

I understand what Merlin is saying. Maybe it is time to let the past go. I sigh.

“You’re a good king,” he says gently. “You deserve the love of your people. You deserve my love and devotion and you’ve always had it.”

That makes my eyes well up. I’m still not sure I deserve Merlin, but maybe I should just listen to him when he tells me that I do.

“I love you,” I say, unable to keep the words inside me any more.

“I know. I love you too.”

Merlin comes over to my side of the table. He leans down and kisses me softly on my lips. I pull him down into my lap and we hold each other as we continue to kiss, finally giving expression to feelings long held in check. I will now remember and celebrate the day I became the King for an entirely different and definitely more life altering reason. It will forever be the day on which Merlin took me for his own.

[hannahhook7744]

The Princes' Bodyguard;

Summary: Arthur Pendragon, tired and stressed by the surprising amount of danger two of his and Gwen’s eleven children manage to get into, hires a bodyguard. When the number of assassins that threaten his sons skyrocket after he does, the king thinks that his money has been well spent and so does his wife and the rest of their family. The princes in question, Llacheu and Loholt, however, know the truth.  Not all of those assassins were after their lives, they were after their bodyguard’s!  And now the young princes are determined to find out why, and get to the bottom of who exactly Morgar (or Morgie, as he prefers) is.  Trigger Warnings: swearing, child endangerment (via children themselves), arguing, mention of assassin attempts, etc.

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

No one had been down the overgrown path for years, yet…

“No.” 

“But—”

“Absolutely not–”

“Loholt, just listen—”

“No!” Prince Loholt Tom Pendragon of Camelot snapped, cutting his twin brother off as he lost the last of the patience he had for him that day. “No! You listen to me, Llacheu. We are not going down the spooky, abandoned, most definitely cursed path that no one has tended to in years just to satisfy your curiosity!” 

Prince Llacheu Ewan Pendragon of Camelot (totally did not) pout and crossed his arms. “Why nooooooooot ?”

“1. Because it will give our poor mother a heart attack. 2. Because we are the oldest and supposed to set an example for our siblings. And 3. Dad will flip his lid if he finds out, because he will find out when Uncle Merlin no doubt has to come and save our dumb asses because we went down the stupid path, you dollop head!”

Llacheu snorted. “Come on, we’re eighteen and will become knights soon. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Loholt, always the more sensible of the two, gave him their Uncle Merlin’s famous ‘are you kidding me right now’ and ‘did you really just ask that’ look. “I don’t know….We could DIE maybe? Is that ‘worst’ enough for you?”

“That isn’t grammatically correct—guess all that time in the library is failing you, brother.”

“It is not—”

“Is too—”

“Is not—”

RROOOOoooOOOOARAAAAARRRRRR!

“AAAARRRRAHHHHAHHHHHHHH!”

The twin princes halted their argument immediately—staring at each other in silence momentarily before one of them finally caught up with the situation. “What was that?!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?!”

“This is all your fault!”

“How is it my fault?!”

“YOU KNOW HOW!”

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

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood behind his desk, resisting the urge to pace as the sunlight poured in through the opening windows of his room. In front of him, his two eighteen year old sons—his oldest children who were born only a few months after the Battle of Camlann (which the king of Camelot didn’t like to think too much about for obvious reasons, less the bitter ‘what-ifs’ and  ‘could have beens’ of Morgana, Mordred, and other lost friends and innocents consume him)—sat sheepishly. Not meeting his eyes.

Arthur didn’t blame them. 

Quite honestly he was beyond furious with both of them—because in all of his forty six years, he had never ever, ever had this bad of a near heart attack. Not during any of times he had nearly died because of an attempt on his life, not with any of the times any of his friends had nearly died, or any of the times Gwen had nearly died—not during any of the battles he’d rode into, not sure he and his friends would even make it out alive. Absolutely none of it compared to the grey  hairs and heart palpitations his oldests had just given him. 

“A banshee, bandits, and a griffin?!”

The universe hated him. 

It was official. 

Because honestly, there was absolutely no other way to explain how that had happened in this day and age when most of the people who had tried to kill him were dead or no longer foe. Not since he’d legalized magic, anyway. Yet his children all still managed to get into trouble somehow. 

Even his toddlers got in trouble!

“Well, you see—” Loholt, who dressed in mainly shades of green and black, was the first to start  stammering as he shot a glare at his brother.

“We were, uh, well there was this path—”Llacheu, who dressed in orange, wasn’t far behind as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Refusing to meet his brother’s eye. He was no doubt the reason why they were on that path in the first place.

When Arthur was calmer, he’d talk to him about that. But for now…

“Yes. A path. The path of no return which both your mother and I, along with your aunts and uncles, have told you and your siblings and cousins all explicitly to stay far away from to avoid situations exactly like these from happening.” The blonde took a deep breath, pinching his nose a bit harder to bat away the stress induced headache that was starting to develop before breathing out. “Right. Your mother and I are hiring you two a bodyguard.” 

One that Arthur was going to have Merlin, George, the knights, Giaus, Freya, and the Steward help him and Gwen vet very thoroughly before they even stepped foot in the castle or anywhere near his children for that matter. Call him paranoid but he wasn’t taking any risks or cutting any corners where his children’s safety was involved. 

“What?!”

“But dad—”

“No buts. You two will not live to be knights at the rate you are going. Need I remind you of the sledding incident of last week? Or the River incident the week before that? Or any of you two’s other exploits recently and not so recently?” Being harsh was the last thing Arthur wanted to be but this was not a matter he nor Gwen were willing to compromise on—not when their boys were far more danger prone than Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Merlin, and the round table combined had ever been.

Gods above, they had gotten in far more trouble than Arthur ever had in his forty six years and a good ten of those years he’d spent dodging nonstop assassination attempts. Well-earned or not. 

They were definitely getting a bodyguard. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. One that they would be stuck with until they learned to be more mindful of their surroundings and to just think for a few seconds at the very least. Arthur would very much like both him and Guinevere to live long enough to see their grandchildren, thank you very much—which currently was not in the cards with all the stress their children and their friends, on top of the kingdom, were infecting them with. 

“No sir.” Both boys sighed in sync, shooting glares at one another once they realized it. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Thank the gods for the little mercies. 

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

“Daddy real mad at you.” 

Loholt bit his lip to stop himself from making a snide remark, knowing that snapping at his youngest brother just because he was mad at his twin brother for getting them into this mess wasn’t going to do him any favors. “I know, Artie.”

Artie—or Arthur the Less as some very foolish people had called him before their parents swiftly put an end to that nonsense after adopting the three year old—looked at him with big blue wide eyes, sucking his thumb. “He thoughts you were hurted.”

And wasn’t that a slap to the face? 

Loholt took a deep breath, silently cursing his twin’s thoughtlessness. It was his fault they were near the path in the first place and now they were going to be stuck with a bodyguard—a glorified chaperone—all because Llacheu had wanted to impress a girl. He had made their parents worry to impress a girl—it was infuriating. Especially since he didn’t even seem to realize how badly he had messed up when a three year old that had been living with their family for less than two months could see it. 

“I know, Art. I know. I’ll try not to scare him and mom like that anymore.”

The blonde flashed him a big toothy smile. “Pwomise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.” 

“Don’t say da D word!”

The older boy couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just an expression buddy. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Artie didn’t look like be believed him. 

Which was far, he supposed. It wasn’t like he and Llacheu had the best track record after all (which, admittedly, was partially his fault).

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“That sounds stupid.” Kay the Tricky, one of Llacheu’s best friends, said scrunching up his nose at his friend’s plight. “How are you supposed to become a knight if you have a bodyguard watching your every move?”

 Llacheu threw his hands up. “That’s what I’m wonderin’! This is going to be so embarrassing! ”

Cai the fair, Loholt and Llacheu’s other best friend, on the other hand had no sympathy for his friend. “And it serves you right. What were you thinking—going near the Path of No Return? That’s not going to impress Lady Florie of Kanadic! She’s going to flip her lid when she finds out about this, you nitwit!” 

“Hey, who’s side are you on?!”  

The blonde gave him an unimpressed look. “Your parents and Loholt’s side. That was a bad idea and you know it.”

The prince did know it, though he wasn’t going to wound his pride by admitting it; not when he was going to need said pride when the new bodyguard came and killed his most gracious social life—which he didn’t doubt for a second was going to die because no one his age wanted a babysitter, let alone deal with someone else’s  babysitter. So yeah, his social life was definitely going to be dead. 

And all for a plan that didn’t even work, because surprise, Cai the Fair was right about Florie not being impressed that Llacheu had chosen to foolishly endanger himself and his brother to get her attention instead of just asking to court her, like a more mature person would have—and now she wasn’t talking to him (or Loholt, when he was present) until he ‘saw the errors of his ways’. Great. 

Just great.

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

Two months. 

It took their parents and their parents’ friends, as well as the castle staff, two—not one—TWO MONTHS to find the pair of princes a bodyguard that met ‘their requirements to a satisfactory extent’, as George put it when he fetched them that morning in place of their manservants (his sons) Brahms and Wendell. 

Apparently the bodyguard had been vetted personally by almost every adult they knew. 

Something the two princes agreed (for once) was humiliating. Honestly, their family was far too paranoid and protective at times for their liking—which of course was why Morgar was even here to  begin with. 

Morgar, that was the name of their bodyguard. 

Their bodyguard who had beat out everyone else and met every expectation their family threw his way, answering all their questions the way they wanted him to or close enough that it didn’t even matter that it wasn’t what they fully wanted. 

Somehow.

Even Loholt was in complete disbelief regarding those little facts that George had let slip after meeting the man in question. Because Morgar? He was nothing at all like they expected. 

He wasn’t prim, proper, all work, and no play like George or bossy and annoying like the Steward and their childhood nanny who would sometimes watch them when their family was away for long periods of time were. He wasn’t overly protective like Uncles Elyan and Merlin, or constantly exasperated like Leon was. 

No, he… was different. 

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

Morgar was a strange fellow with dark brown hair—swept off his forehead—and sharp hazel eyes that were ever seeing, who stood at just an inch or two shorter than the twins themselves. He had a snake tattoo on his right arm that seemed to switch positions every time they saw him and some kind of rune tattoos on his left arm that seemed to disappear under his clothing. 

He wore long and tight looking black trousers with a matching scarf, faded brown boots that looked too small, a tan undershirt, a green tunic with medium length sleeves, and a dark green armored vest with a lighter green, almost yellowish, rose pattern on it that was like nothing the younger boys had ever seen before. 

Morgar insisted that they call him ‘Morgie’ (what an odd nickname) and was rather laid back for someone who was being paid to defend the lives of the king’s children. 

He was also snarky—always having something to say, oftentimes something wicked that would send both Llacheu and Loholt into fits of laughter that they tried and failed to suppress. Knowing that it wasn’t something their parents would approve of them finding funny. 

He was goofy and made exaggerated faces and movements that would have annoyed the boys if they weren’t sure that it was just how Morgie was, and not him treating them like children. 

Morgie was a few years older than the two of them—twenty, he said once when they asked—and he didn’t kill the social life of the princes by meddling, like they had feared he would. In fact, he was far less involved in their goings on than Loholt suspected their parents knew. Almost always out of sight of them when they went to hang out with their friends or to train, and rarely ever getting involved in their shenanigans until danger was posed and not before. 

It was odd and not at all like the ever looming, never straying, boundary stomping bodyguards the two brothers had seen accompany other royal children before. 

Morgie actually seemed to care about them and their privacy, more than he did his job, even. 

It wasn’t anything like he was expecting.

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

The assassination attempts didn’t start until a few weeks after Morgie had started working for The Pendragons. 

Most would assume it was a coincidence or would say that their father’s paranoia had finally paid off with him having been well-prepared in advance for this type of thing (something their own father’s father hadn’t been nearly as prepared for), but that didn’t feel quite right. At least not in Llacheu’s mind—something he pointed out to his brother and their friends once Florie started talking to him (and the others while he was there) again.

“The assassination attempts on your dad’s life didn’t pick up until he was nearly twenty.” Florie pointed out, always the rational one of the group—never one to jump to conclusions—resting her chin on her fist out of boredom, readjusting her lavender dress. “Maybe the assassins just didn’t feel comfortable killing you before you had facial hair?”

Kay snorted at that, almost stabbing himself when he failed to catch the dagger he’s been tossing up and down for fun. Like their Uncle Gwaine did with his apples usually before he ate them—a habit his little son, Everard, was starting to pick up on. Luckily he didn’t thanks to Brahms’ quick reflexes. That could have ended in disaster and a long lecture from both their fathers who still weren’t happy about the last time that had happened.

“It…is a bit odd, though, don’t you think?” Wendell hummed, frowning thoughtfully—a look that was mirrored on both his brother’s face and Loholt’s. “That they started not too terribly long after Morgie was publicly dubbed L & L’s bodyguards?”

“Or that none of the assassins seem to be trying to actually get close to the princes they’re supposedly trying to kill in the first place?” Brahms added, swatting at Kay’s hand when he tried to take his knife back. Clearly not trusting their friend with it while he was distracted. 

“That assassin from last week actually seemed pretty surprised when he was told he was under arrest for trying to kill the king’s sons, too.” Cai chimed in, peering down at the plate of fruit he’d borrowed from the kitchens for their hang out with furrowed brows. “As if he didn’t know who Loholt and Llacheu were.”

Florie still didn’t look completely convinced. “He could have been playing dumb in the hopes of getting a lesser punishment.” 

“No.” Loholt finally spoke, shifting from where he was sitting on his bed. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t most assassins willing to die if they fail? And those who aren’t wouldn’t be willing to bet their lives on that flimsy excuse. Not after how badly all the previous attempts on the rest of our family’s lives have gone.”

Llacheu pointed at Loholt. “Exactly! How is that not suspicious sounding!”

“I don’t know!” Florie groaned, frustrated. “None of this makes sense either way. Why would all these assassins be after your bodyguard who no one’s ever heard of before he showed up looking for a job?”

“That’s what we need to find out!” 

The room went dead silent momentarily at the prince’s words, everyone looking at him with dread. 

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Llacheu, no.”  Cai put his head in his hands. Florie grimaced. Wendell and Brahms sighed, looking resigned. Loholt looked like he couldn’t believe that the two of them were related (a look his girlfriend, Angelica, who had decided that she was firmly staying out of this conversation,  shared as she glanced between them) and Kay?

He stopped trying to snatch his knife back from Brahms and snapped his fingers. “Llacheu, yes! That’s brilliant and exactly what we need to do!”

Loholt threw a pillow at him. “Don’t encourage him! Don’t you two ever learn anything?!”

"Ow! What was that for?!”

"This is why the twins even have Morgie as a bodyguard in the first place." Angelica groaned, burying her face in a throw pillow, her long silky black hair draping over the sides of it. Clearly done with both Kay and Llacheu, and rethinking her dreams of marrying Loholt and joining his family because of it. At least, that's what Llacheu—ever the one for theatre—thought she was thinking. "At the rate this is going, your father is going to lock you two in a tower and throw away the key so you'll stop getting into danger!”

"No he won't." Llacheu bristled. "Our dad's overprotective, sure, but he would never do anything like that. And even if he tried, I'm sure mom and our aunts and uncles wouldn't let him.”

Cai glanced at Wendell. "Ten silvers says that Sir Elyan will be the one helping the King lock them up." 

The manservant gave him an unimpressed look. "I'm not taking that bet; It's so obvious that that's what's going to happen that it's physically painful.”

“Fair. I probably wouldn't have taken that bet either.”

“Aw come on guys!”

“No Llacheu!”

“I'm with Florie and Loholt here, this is a really bad idea.”

“Is it though?” 

“You aren't helping Kay!”

“We are not snooping into your bodyguard’s personal life!”

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

To absolutely no one's surprise, the group did in fact end up snooping into Morgar’s personal life after both Kay and Llacheu talked them into it. 

At least that's the word they would use. 

The others would say that they just got tired of them asking and.that they were going along with it so that the two trouble makers wouldn't get themselves killed. 

(Not that anyone would believe them, if they said that, of course). 

One would think that with the combined forces of two princes, two manservants, two princesses from separate kingdoms, and two squires (a total of eight people) and a library filled with scrolls that most people often forget even exist would be able to find something on one highly qualified young man turned bodyguard. Multiple somethings or just a single something, even. 

But no. 

To the group's absolute frustration, they couldn't find anything on the man.

No record of his birth. 

No family lines. 

Not even a whisper of a Morgar or a Morgie from  any kingdom that could be even remotely capable of what they'd all seen the princes’ bodyguard do. It frustrated Llacheu so much that he was tempted to start throwing the useless books and scrolls across the room. But he didn't. 

Mostly because Loholt, Geoffrey, Florie, and not to mention his parents would kill him if he destroyed any of the books in the castle or made more work for the castle staff. But also because he didn't really want to make more work for the castle staff in the first place and he knew that it wouldn't help their search if he did. 

So, in a great show of restraint, Llacheu bit back his frustration and his complaints (unlike Kay) and continued his search. His friends all doing the same. 

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

“What are you up to?” 

Llacheu gave his Uncle Merlin an innocent look that he didn't buy for a second. “What? You always tell me I should read more.” 

“Yes, but court genealogy doesn't really seem like something you'd be interested in without an ulterior motive. So, I ask again. What are you up to and do I need to be prepared to stage a cover up?”

If Llacheu was seven again, he would have immediately given in and confessed to everything upon seeing Merlin cross his arms and raise the eyebrow of doom. But alas, he was not a little kid anymore. He was fifteen, so much more mature and so much more stubborn. 

“I’m not up to anything. Honest. I'm just curious.”

Merlin sighed, shaking his head and sounding almost fond as he muttered “You are your parent's son.” Walking off with the herbs he'd collected for whatever potion or spell they were needed for. Which, considering that he was both the Court Sorcerer and the New Court Physician with a family and three apprentices (Gwenhwyfach, Guiomar, and Nyneve who had agreed to cover for Llacheu if asked, bless them) of his own, could be anything.

Including another prank on Llacheu's father or some kind of cleaning powder for George, who had taken over Merlin's duties when Giaus retired and Merlin was doubly promoted. Or so Uncle Gwaine's stories told. 

(And who knew if those could be accurate, since he claimed that Uncle Will, Aunt Freya, Uncle Lancelot, and several other family friends had risen from the dead. Honestly, Llacheu wasn't born yesterday). 

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

“Hey Artie, what are you doing, buddy?” Llacheu asked, as casually as he could manage while praying for forgiveness to whoever was listening for the scheme he had just cooked up. 

The three year old jumped away from his friends, looking guilty. “Nothin’.” 

Everard and Dragonet (Merlin and Freya’s son) were hiding something behind their backs. If Llacheu was anybody else, like Loholt, he would have pried further. Unfortunately for everyone in the castle however, Llacheu was not Loholt, and thus did not pry further or even make a mental note to warn anyone ahead of time that the three were probably going to be causing chaos. Because what would the fun in that be?

Not to mention it would be rather hypocritical of him considering what the prince was about to ask the three toddlers to do. 

“Do you want something to do?”

The trio of trouble making toddlers looked at him, immediately intrigued as every ounce of guilt drained out of them. Artie shared a look with his two friends briefly before finally answering, albeit hesitantly. “Maybe…”

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

Llacheu's plan went off without a hitch, despite not being very-Loholt approved. 

Artie’s trio of friends had barely even needed to be bribed with the offer of sweets at all after the older Prince had showed them his (non lethal) handmade, very realistic knock off version of Uncle Merlin’s spell book that he never willingly let any of them touch unsurprised and told them that he wanted them to run around the castle with it. He'd only really needed to bribe them into doing it in front of their parents but even then it wasn't really hard to convince them. 

The offer of getting to play with a spellbook, even one that wasn't excitedly dangerous, was just too tempting of a chance to pass up. Just like Llacheu knew it would be. 

“Arthur Gaius Pendragon the 2nd—”

“Everard, please, before you give your old man a heart attack—”

“Dragonet William Bailnoir Hunithson, put the spellbook down!”

Llacheu would have felt bad if it wasn't so funny watching his dad, Uncle Merlin, and Uncle Gwaine get evaded again and again by three kids barely out of diapers with a kid friendly spellbook. If only he had a sketchbook and some artistic talent so he could capture this moment, and remember it forever. Alas, he had neither of those things nor the time. 

As soon as the teenage prince was sure no one was around he slipped into the Physician Chambers and snagged his Uncle’s real spellbook. Silently sending his Uncle an apology for the chaos he'd sent his devil spawn to cause as he slipped back out, and headed back to the stables where the others were supposed to meet him.

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

“This isn't going to work.” 

“Yes it will.” Llacheu rolled his eyes. 

His brother and friends didn’t look convinced, and neither did his father’s prized horses (Hengroen and Llamrei) and favorite dogs (Cavall and Glessic). Which, rude, because as far as his plans usually went this one was actually probably one of his better ones. 

“You need magic to make a spell work and you don’t have magic.” Loholt reminded, apparently unwilling to let go of that particular argument. 

“Yeah, well none of you have magic either and we can’t afford to wait for Nyneve or Gwenhwyfach to get off work. So me it is—Guiomar!”

The physician-in-training immediately peaked his head into the stables. “All clear so far.” Then he retreated back into position before anyone could say anything else, throwing in his own two cents as he did. “And for the record, I believe he can do it.”

Kay cackled, the only other one who believed that there was even the slightest chance of this working. 

“See, this isn’t a complete lost cause!” Llacheu smirked. “Now, everybody stand back—ah bollocks, where’d I put the chalk?”

Wendell handed it to him. “This better work because cleaning that off the wood before anyone notices is going to be a right pain—”

“It’ll work!”

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

The outline of Morgie was drawn. 

The herbs and oils were applied. 

The candles were lit and Morgie’s anchor (in this case, his scarf) was pinned in the center of it all.

All that was left for the group of nine to do was the spell—but Llacheu just couldn’t seem to get it right.

On the first attempt, the candles went out. On the second, the doors blew open—hitting Guiomar in the backside. On the third, the building shook and by the fourth, the young prince was starting to lose the high confidence and small amount of hope that this would work; which made it all the more fitting that that was when he finally managed to pronounce the damn thing right. 

“A éireachtach Dé Lúth-chuimhne, tabhair dom an t-údarás a implaim, agus tóg an ceanglaigh seo ionas go bhfeicim an fhírinne.” The words felt awkward on the youth’s tongue and sent a strange warmth throughout his body, his eyes especially and if he had to guess he’d wager that they were glowing—which would explain the startled looks he was getting. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that as the flames of the candles raised high into the air and the outline of Morgie blazed to life.

The spell of truth was a spell created to sniff out imposters and trace children’s liege in the hopes of finding someone who could take them in—but it was a spell that many had forgotten existed. Their uncle Merlin included. But Llacheu? He remembered. The summary and name of the spell not having left his mind since he’d first read about it all those years ago when he’d first gotten a peak at his godfather’s spellbook when he was eight years old and bored while waiting for the man to finish brewing the nasty medicine required for whatever affliction he’d had at the time. 

Llacheu hadn’t known if the spell would actually work if he’d been the one to read it, but he’d had a hunch. Just like he had a hunch that when the light faded, they would finally know at least some of the answers to their questions. 

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

Loholt stared at the words that had appeared in the outline of Morgie, feeling faint as he leaned against one of the stalls. 

“Who the fuck is Madoc? I thought his name was Morgar?” Kay grumbled, crossing his arms. “Are you sure you grabbed the right scarf?”

“Yes I’m sure!” Llacheu snapped, tired of people asking him that question—tired of just questions in general, actually. Which is what they had just gotten more of because it turns out they didn’t really know their bodyguard at all. 

Because the spell of truth? 

It had just revealed to them that his name was not in fact Morgar or even Morgie, as they’d previously thought, but instead Prince Madoc Pendragon, son of Morgana Pendragon. As in, Llacheu and Loholt’s father’s evil half sister, Morgana Pendragon, who had died at the Battle of Camlann when trying to kill their father and likely everyone else they loved and held dear. 

Which beared the question—if the spell had actually worked, which it most certainly had, then why was Morgana’s son currently acting as their bodyguard and what did he want?

Why hadn’t he killed them yet?

The number of assassins that threatens the prince skyrocket after the king hired the new bodyguard. The king thought that is money well spent, the prince however know the truth. Those assassins weren't after his life, they are after his bodyguard's! And he is determined to find out why.

[escespace]

Where freaking are Merthur's tiktok edits with Hayloft?

[apinchofm]

“Guinevere”

Gwen's eyes flew open at the sound of her name. Only one man called her Guinevere. One man who could say it so reassuringly and so meaningfully.

She was lying in bed, her clothes gone but she was still warm. This was their chambers - from the red silk curtains and sheets and her lavender cloak discarded on a bench next to her husband's own deep red cloak.

She turned her head and lying next to her was Arthur. Her Arthur. Just as he looked the last time they saw each other and yet, younger. Relaxed. He smiled gently when she looked at him, his eyes as gentle as always.

“Arthur.”

“I've been waiting for you. A change for us, is it not?” Arthur says and she laughs softly.

“Is this real?”

“Of course it is. I love you, Guinevere."

“I love you too." Gwen whispered, “It's been so difficult, Arthur. So difficult.” her voice breaks. Keeping the kingdoms united to honour his wish of Albion. Being strong for Camelot and their son.

Llacheu had only been ruling a year. He would be a great king - with Merlin by his side and the knights of the Round Table.

Arthur gently hushes her, “That is all over now. I am so proud of you, Guinevere.” He reached out and stroked her cheek as he did when she was upset or fretting about something or the other. She had missed his touch, and she stroked his hand, her eyes fluttering closed.

"Llacheu...he is so like you." She whispers. Their son was nearly his image. A blessing most days and a curse on other days.

"I think he is more like you." Arthur smiles, "He is so beautiful. I have always watched over you. Always."

She let out a content sigh as Arthur leaned over and pressed his lips to hers, brushing his nose against hers.

"I have missed you so much." Gwen whispered.

"And I, you. But no more sadness, my love." Arthur says, "Do you want to stay with me?"

"Of course I do," Gwen smiled, "With all my heart."