#because Arthur had never truly had anyone like Merlin in his life

[ladyofthelake]

Never forget that Arthur found it fucking hilarious when Merlin disrespected him in the beginning 'you can't address me like that' said with a smile like the sun. I bet he thought fucking finally someone is being real with me.

[splashstar01]

BBC Merlin/Merthur End

The ending was just so traumatic. First, you have Merlin telling Arthur his magic, expecting Arthur to live becos Arthur always has. Merlin likely thought he'd be able to save Arthur. One of his last words to Arthur in regards to saving his life was, "I can." So Merlin must've been thinking optimistically about their future. About magic being legal in Camelot once again, of him and Arthur working together as even more equals than they already were, of them spending a lifetime together.

You know how Arthur mouthed that he loved Merlin before he died? In that moment, there was no doubt—he had never been more certain of his love for anyone else in his life. Merlin was his sole life partner in everything he did. Merlin was always with him, protecting him, being his #1 counsel, his very best friend, the recipient of his forbidden feelings and deepest obsession. 

And then he grabbed Merlin’s head and tried to pull him in for a kiss—his last shot, but his strength completely failed him. Hearing Merlin shout his name one last time caused Arthur’s eyes to flutter open, and his life must’ve flashed before his eyes that had never been bluer. But death came too quickly, and the kiss—one he must’ve known far too late should have happened long ago—was left unfinished.

So when Arthur returns, drawn back because Merlin, the last piece of Albion, needs him so desperately, the first thing he’ll do is tell Merlin how he truly feels and finally kiss him. This time, he won’t hesitate. After all, he’s spent all that time in Avalon with Freya, thinking, regretting, and aching for his dorky manservant. 

And that would be all that Merlin needed after waiting all those years... Now, at last, both Merlin and Arthur would feel a completeness neither had known since Arthur's death so long ago. The two sides of the same coin would be joined together for eternity this time, never to part again. (I’m betting on the Sidhe granting Arthur immortality so that Merlin, magic incarnate, would never need him so desperately again, thus preserving the balance of magic forever... The Once and Future King WILL save Albion [Merlin] in the end!!!)

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I had a Good!Morgana/magic reveal idea. What if Arthur found out about Morgana’s magic? And decided to be rational and smart about it?

When the window breaks, he realises that only Morgana was anywhere near. It’s just a random thought, but then he remembers all the times her nightmares come true or that she warned him about something and he listened only for her to be right.

Then he overhears Gaius talking to someone and saying that Morgana is too close to Uther and that it’d be better if she never knew about her magic. (even though she’s loosing control and clearly terrified and in need of help, he’s furious about that because magic or no, she’s still Morgana.) Arthur storms off, not bothering to find out who Gaius was talking to because he’s just been hit by the reality that magic isn’t a choice therefore he might have to reevaluate his whole belief system because he doesn’t want to think people can be born evil.

Of course he isn’t happy about it, but Morgana is too good and she never would’ve chosen magic, she was too smart for that in Camelot and too afraid for it to be deliberate. For whatever reason, Gaius was keeping Morgana’s magic secret even from her, so he didn’t want to go to the physician. So he goes to Geoffrey, knowing that like Gaius, he knows about life before the purge.

The librarian apparently hid a bunch of illegal books? So Arthur gets reading and learns about magic, about those born with it, about those who use it for good, that magic could be like a sword to attack or defend. Then he learns that’s wrong, a stab wound is still a stab wound but if he wants to believe magic can be truly good then there has to be more to it than a weapon. He realises there’s no inherent morality in magic, just intent from the person using it and impact of those around. He starts looking at how useful magic can be, how it can heal, you get the idea.

Uther finds out somehow and summons Arthur, Morgana and the council to the throne room so he can sentence Morgana to death. No one knows how to react, but Arthur steps forward, gently pushes Morgana behind him, sending Merlin a look that says to keep her safe. Merlin nods and Morgana is trembling while he reassures her that she’s safe. He promises that no harm will come and that he’ll break her out of the citadel if he has to.

Arthur yells at Uther and eventually throws a gauntlet down, saying he’s challenging for the throne on account of madness. He basically paints Uther to be mentally unstable and therefore unfit to rule. They fight there, and like the scene where Arthur finds out about his mother, Uther is pinned to the throne when Merlin stops Arthur from killing Uther, (there’s significance to that, it wouldn’t bring Arthur peace. But Morgana ordering his execution? That helps her get closure.)

Anyway, Merlin takes the sword and holds it to Uther’s chest for Arthur, whispering something about “Morgana needs him now more than ever.” So Arthur takes Uther’s crown and orders Leon to take him to his chambers and not to let him leave. He then turns to Morgana, sees her trembling and holds out a hand to her. She looks at him suspiciously, so he sighs and tell her they’ll talk about repealing the ban once he’s figured out what to do with Uther.

Morgana frowns, so Arthur says something like “As far as I’m concerned, Camelot is your home. You’re my sister in all but blood, and I’m not going to watch you die for something you had no choice in. We’ll find you a tutor, someone to teach you control so your nightmares don’t bother you so much, and if you want it you’ll have a place on my council. As court sorceress or advisor or whatever you want.”

Then Morgana hugs him, crying and thanking him for everything. Merlin is looking proud but regretfully so because of the situation. Arthur has him clear the hallways so he can lead Morgana back to her chambers where she’ll be safe and where she won’t have to worry about anyone seeing her cry because Arthur knows she’s never really cried in front of anyone but Gwen, only ever fake tears to manipulate men in court to her favour.

They’ve got technicalities to sort out and whatever else but they work it out and basically everything ends up happily ever after.

[weepingpalaceathletelight-blog]

There's a difference between shipping two characters and acknowledging the intense (usually gay) bond between characters. You guys get what I mean, right? Like I'm not just going insane?

Like a BSD example:

-I casually ship Louisa X Lucy because I feel like their dynamic could work in a romantic context and because I love it when girls are in love and they both deserve to be happy 🩷

-HOWEVER Chuuya and Dazai have an intense bond, they are one soul in two bodies, written and designed to compliment the other, Chuuya trusts Dazai with his life and vice versa, Dazai believed in Chuuya's humanity from the very beginning, their old and sorted dynamic, Chuuya being like the only one who understands Dazai's motives, and so, knowing all of this, I simply have no choice but to acknowledge their homosexuality because if I don't then I'm just being willfully ignorant

Or a MHA example:

-I somewhat ship Dabi x Hawks because it's hilarious whilst also having beautiful potential for angst

-BUT Bakugou and Midoriya quite simply just are gay as shit for each other and I have no choice but to accept it. Rivals constantly pushing the other, their complicated history and how they've both grown because of it, their understanding of the other, Bakugou basically trusting Midoriya with his fears and insecurities, Bakugou being the first to know about One for All, Kaachan Bakugou.

Or a MTP example:

-I guess you could say I ship Microsoft X Albert because I think it's sorta very funny and extremely plausible.

-MEANWHILE William and Sherlock are like the only person who understands each other and can keep up with them and Sherlock is diving off of buildings and cradling William's head as they fall (in love).

Or a JJK example:

-I kinda ship Maki X Nobara because I can and I want to and they could work

-ALTERNATIVELY Gojo and Geto where each others one and only best friend, best friend they ever had, knows his smell, his heart and soul know otherwise. They're just disgustingly in love and I hate it but there's nothing I can do about it except cry

Or a Haikyuu example:

-I do ship Hanamaki X Matsukawa because lord is it hilarious and the fanon presentation of a romantic relationship between them is always the funniest thing ever and the fics are so good

-YET Hinata and Kageyama are exactly what the other needed, Kageyama found his better half, their constant pushing of the other to do better, promises fulfilled and matches won, casual moments and casual touch. I did not choose to see them in a romantic light, they forced me to. I am a victim

Or a Merlin example:

-I dabble in shipping Percival X Gwaine purely because I can and no one is gonna stop me

-ALTHOUGH Merlin and Arthur are so gross and icky and care about each other so much and repeatedly risk their lives for the other and Arthur asked Merlin to hold him whilst he dies and Merlin spends forever waiting for Arthur's return. I just can't view them platonically or something after everything I've seen them do and I don't believe anyone who says that they truly don't seem them as romantic or at least something other than platonic or brotherly because how could you not??

Or a Doctor Who example:

-I could ship the Doctor X Jack because that's actually class

-UNFORTUNATELY that would be asking me to ignore the Doctor and Rose. He burned up a sun to say goodbye. He loved her. She loved him, was willing to never see her mother again if it meant she stayed with him. I'm sorry but cmonnnn

Nah but you get what I mean, right? Like I don't 'ship' these people, they're just IN LOVE and I hate them for it.

[mysticsublimeperson]

NUMB pt2

(pt1)

Arthur had noticed something, he didn't quite understand what exactly, and that was frustrating.

Then Merlin cancelled the only date night the had been able to schedule in a month, because of the difference in their work hours, and Merlin spended less and less time with him at work...

So ditching him to go to a club?

Yeah... Arthur was pissed.

But then, "They have notice that I 've been absent, unless you want me to explain where do I spend my free time lately, I better go with them to get them off my back. We wouldn't want anybody knowing your secret right?"

And damn if that didn't hurt.

He knew Merlin wasn't really happy with the arrangement, he knew that he had been crossing the line lately. Going off at work, mostly to throw people off the track, but also to let out some of his frustration. But what could he do?

It was impossible to continue with his life as it was, and have Merlin. He would loose everything, his job, his family, his status, probably the flat too... His father was sure to ruin his life if he gave that step.

But for the life of him, he could not let Merlin go. He will never let him go willingly. Merlin was the happiest he had been in his life. Waking up next to him, he felt at peace, felt understood, felt seen. The way Merlin looked at him, like he meant something extraordinary, made him feel complete.

But then the little doubt creep in, What would happen if Merlin grew tired of this baggage?

No.

What will happen when Merlin grow tired of this situation?

Arthur felt his chest heavy with guilt. It was bound to happen, he knew that, he, himself, had made sure of it. He had enough scape routes in case everything went south, but now he found that Merlin could also use them, and that thought was the scariest of them all.

Merlin went radio silent after that call, and Arthur understood.

Then the next day he could not find him at the company, which was strange but maybe he was avoiding him, and Arthur understood.

He didn't answered any of his calls, or texts, and Arthur understood.

The dread expanding in his belly.

The following day he went to work with a heavy step and a heavier heart.

He knew that this whole circus was his fault, and therefore he had no right to complain or demand anything of Merlin, but that didn't make him feel better.

Merlin was still gone, so he went looking for him. And then Gaius told him that Merlin hadn't gone to work, he was sick, apparently. Gaius didn't know what exact illness but ... "he has been off lately, distant, cold, sad. And with all due respect, that you are keen on humiliating him on public lately hadn't really helped. I imagine it has to do with that. He didn't explain further, just told me he was going on sick leave"

Gaius spoke clearly, and with every word Arthur felt more shame. That dressing down was something he didn't know he needed.

Had he been so awful towards Merlin? Truly?

He bolted, didn't even told anyone, just went.

Went to his flat, and banged on his door, and called his name until the neighbors threatened to call the police.

It was useless.

The last time he spoke to him, he was going to go clubbing with his friends. He knew most of Merlins friends, basically because they were also Arthur's friends. But those friends... he knew them yeah, but he wasn't precisely close, Will, proper hated him, and the girl, Freya, was apprehensive around him, he didn't know why, but he hadn't particularly care up until that moment, he did not have any way of contacting them, not their number saved, not their social media profiles, nothing.

Shit.

The only thing he could remember was where Freya used to work, because Merlin had insisted on buying his coffee there for months just to spend his break catching up with her, at least until they happened.

He went there, his only clue, praying for the girl to be there.

He wasn't lucky, she didn't even had a shift that day. But he had obtained a contact info. He texted her.

And she answered vaguely, not understanding why Merlin's boss was asking for that kind of information. He didn't get much, but the fact that that whole ordeal was orchestrated by Gwaine.

So he went to Gwaine.

He was still hungover, or, more accurately, hungover again. And told him reluctantly that he had tried to get Merlin to relax, because he had been upset as of late. Arthur really ought to pay better attention, everyone had noticed this change in Merlin's behavior, so probably Merlin had been dealing with the burnt of having to lying to everyone.

"We just wanted him to unwind, It was fine... at least I hope so" Arthur's heart stopped at that very moment "What do you mean?" Gwaine was completely unaffected by his murderous tone and stare, and reentered his home trailed by Arthur "I don't know mate, he was having fun, he had been talking to this bloke on the floor, the seemed to have hit it off quite well... that was the last time I saw him, when we didn't heard from him in the morning, well we assumed he'd gotten laid, at least he had fun, but yesterday he told us that It didn't went well, but didn't explain" As he spoke his voice lost it's strength, and the insecurity he must have felt since that message was brought to the surface.

Arthur wanted to scream, to accuse, to point, to break, to do everything at the same time, but how could he? He stopped himself just before he started a shouting match with Gwaine, who was lost in thought in the sofa, because Gwaine was his friend too, and if he had known he wouldn't have done any of that.

His eyes started to sting from the sheer frustration.

Fact 1: Merlin's friends had taken him to a club, so he could cheat on Arthur, not that they knew that.

Fact 2: Merlin had gotten drunk, danced and left the club with another man, Arthur could not grasp how he felt about that just yet.

Fact 3: something went WRONG. WHAT THE HELL WENT WRONG AND WHERE WAS MERLIN? BECAUSE...

Fact 4: Merlin hadn't gone to work in two days, and no one knew where or how he was and the worry in his chest was clouding his mind and shit, he was crying.

He wiped his face quickly with the back of his hand, but couldn't hold back anymore so he struggled a bit saying goodbye to Gwaine and got out of there, didn't listen to whatever Gwaine was saying in the background.

He couldn't tell you how did he find Merlin, just that it was probably illegal and highly unadvised. But by that afternoon he was in front of that hospital door, with mixed feelings, a lot of guilt and one thought.

Hunith opened the door, Hunith was there. His gut twisted in different uncomfortable directions.

"Hunith?"

"Arthur? What are you doing here? Wait, let's talk outside, he finally managed to sleep for a bit" His throat closed off.

"I..He didn't show up at work" It was all he could manage, he could see her eyes harden.

"Yes, well, I am sure you can see he is in no condition to do so, now if you would kindly leave"

"Hunith" he was trembling "Can I see him?" he saw her hesitate.

"He doesn't want to see anyone" she ultimately answered a bit softer.

"What happened?"

"It's not my place to tell Arthur, I need to respect his decision, now more than ever" she said with finality "Look, I'll call you when he changes his mind.."

"IF.. if he changes his mind, you know how he is" he protested "Hunith I just..." he had to stop, before his voice broke "I need to know how he is, I need to see that he is ok"

"I know you are his friend Arthur" Arthur could hear his heart shatter "But this is... He is not ok" she said looking directly at him "He doesn't want to be seen like that, he doesn't want to be judged or pitied. He needs someone by his side right now, someone who would just be there with him, loving him, truly, boldly, despite everything else" Hunith broke down a bit and ran a hand by her hair, talking to him and to herself also "Don't get me wrong Arthur, I know you care for my son, you are a true friend, but you are not what he needs right now. I know the teasing and bantering is your... style, but I am afraid he cannot handle that. I'll call you if he changes his mind, but if not, please do respect his wishes"

She turned around visibly affected and went back into the room. Meanwhile Arthur had his world shaken to the ground.

[regulusrules]

Hi! Okay so you seem like a very well-read person and I’d love to know if you have a list of your favorite Merlin fics. I just bookmarked all the ones you recommended in relation to the 10 best episodes and now I need more! I’m going on a training camp and would love to have something fairly long to download to my kindle so I can read on flights and when I don’t have data 🥰

Thanks so much in advance!

(Also, I LOVE your writing, I’m so glad to be part of this fandom with talented people like you!)

Hey! Thank you so much for your kind words! OF COURSEE I'd love to recommend you some fics! Likewise— the creativity of this fandom never ceases to amaze me :)

*cracks knuckles and pretends my eyes aren't lighting up rn because my time has finally come*

Long fic recs (50K-100K+)

1. to the world that never let you be by ImperialMint. Look. I'll hand out my own throat so willingly to any scar reveal fic. The trope is just so dear to my heart, and this one in particular was something else. It broadly covered every single feeling you might be looking for in a Merlin fic, and its characterization of both Arthur and Merlin was top tier. I basically sell my soul to any fic that does justice to their characterization, and this one did so much more than that.

2. What I'd Have Done by @flight-of-fantasy. I solemnly swear you will never read something like this fic. I read it in one day from how on edge I was all the time. I had to recount it to my friends in the timespan of three hours because of how much screaming and dramatic pauses there was. Simply, the brilliance of plot here is unmatched. Arthur's characterization as a strategist shook my innards, and Merlin's unapologetic nature was chef's kiss. It's so hard not to give away the plot while recommending this so just.. just read it.

3. Redemption by flakedice, Zerda. Soon, you will find a parallel post to the best 10 episodes with the worst 10, featuring first and foremost The Disir. Honest to God, I could literally go on ages ranting about how much agony this episode brought me. It was the blow that awoke my eyes to the possibility of fuck, this show isn't going to end well. I once thought about shitting on that episode like I did with 5×13 in My heart is readily yours, but fics like these hold me back because they already gave us everything. It gave us the ending we deserved. Gold. Everything in this was gold. The world building, the character development, the fact that Arthur has been given time. Truly a fix-it that fix-ed my heart.

4. Talking about deviations from The Fucking Disir, The World I Built for You by Fulgance is a must. It was the first fic I've read from the How They Didn't Find Out (magic reveal one-shots) series, and from then on I was * s o l d *. Whichever fic you decide to read from this, I guarantee you, you will have the time of your life. Fulgance is the one author I will always recommend without a shadow of a doubt. There is not a single work of theirs that will disappoint you. They will only break you.

5. Deep In My Heart I'm Concealing by @citharaposts. True story about this fic, I squealed when I read its summary. “I'm not standing here as a king, Merlin!” was the quickest catalyst to ever make me start a fic. I specifically wrote a spoiler-free comment for the author and left it in the first chapter so that anyone who's thinking about whether or not to go into yet another 100K fic will rest assured that it's an amazing ride. Have real fun with this one.

6. It Was One Kingdom, Once by queerofthedagger. Two things, if they happen, you leave everything behind and go thank your God for blessing you with it: @queerofthedagger posting a new Merlin fic, and it being a Royal Hanahaki AU. Like so many other tropes the author has nailed, this was the best Hanahaki I've ever read (across fandoms). It's so intricate and detailed and the world building is on another level. If our world was burning and I had only one thing to save, it'll be the works of this author.

Hope I helped, and hope you have so much fun in your camp!◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕

[Short fic recs]

[stopper-my-heart]

"Nick/Charlie & Arthur/Merlin (AU Past Lives) – [Taylor Swift's] 'Timeless'" by @imagine-dragonlords

This is a Heartstopper blog and will remain a Heartstopper-only blog 99% of the time.

But this video really hits me hard.

Imagining a hypothetical historical Merlin-and-Arthur trying to be together and the meta level of remembering what it was like with the BBC / world and Merthur as recently as 2012, compared with having Heartstopper on Netflix and Nick & Charlie now.. There's so much further we have to go, but I have a lot of feelings about the progress we've made, too.

Also: "I'd like to think we'd find each other in any universe".

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

This post was originally going to end there but then I discovered this Merthur fanfic by @queerofthedagger and it's a perfect antidote to the video and goes towards healing my Merthur-broken heart.

The fanfic shows what Merlin and Arthur could've been if they'd had the time and freedom to talk about the things that matter. They become so "Nick & Charlie" in it and it's glorious. Also, Merlin's mum = Sarah Nelson. I think you'll need to have watched and cared about BBC Merlin to appreciate it, but recently isn't necessary (10+ years is fine).

The author has their own summary that you can find on the page, but I think this sums it up very well:

Happiness is bubbling in his chest, his blood singing with it and this, this is what they’re supposed to be. Carving their own way and finding alternate routes to be themselves, without being tied down and crushed underneath some distant destiny* that cares nothing for them.

*or the BBC, society, etc.

Below the jump are content warnings for the fic plus some quotations from it that remind me of Nick & Charlie, which are more for my sake than anyone else's.

CW: violence, murderous intent, 1 non-graphic sex scene (near the beginning of ch. 13, easy to skip)

Quotations:

“You don’t have a weapon,” he says because Merlin might’ve turned him into a lovestruck fool, but he’s never going to stop poking and prodding him to make up for it. Of course, it would be far easier if one symptom of said lovestruck condition wasn’t that it clearly makes him as much of an idiot as Merlin loves to claim he is.

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

“You’re brilliant,” he breathes into the safety of Merlin’s hair, revelling in the way Merlin tightens his grip on him. “It’s brilliant.”

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

“I—yeah no, I’d rather not,” Merlin agrees, though there’s something resigned lurking in the black of his eyes. “I’m—” “If the next word is 'sorry,' Merlin, I advise you to stop right there.”

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

“You’d miss me!” Arthur calls, having to raise his voice for Merlin to hear him over the distance as he’s walking away. He gets a rude hand gesture in response, and he can only be thankful that there’s no one else around to witness the grin splitting his face.

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

“Maybe it is,” he cuts in, shrugging. “But not so much that you have to sacrifice your own happiness for it. You’re—can’t you see how important you are, simply because you’re you? Because of what you mean to me and how you make my life better?" [...] It’s so much more than he meant to say, but he doesn’t regret a single word of it. He would say it a hundred times over if it got Merlin to finally believe it.

AKA Sports Day speech -----------------

The clarity of what, truly, is the root of the problem hits Arthur like a punch. “Gods, you—Merlin. Merlin, you don’t have to make up for it,” he croaks out, his voice cracking and breaking. He shifts closer, pressing his forehead against Merlin’s, and he can feel Merlin’s shallow breathing against his chest. “It’s not a burden, alright? It’s not a burden, and you aren’t a burden, and I will fight anyone who dares to tell you otherwise.”

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

His whole body is singing with it, his skin feeling too small to contain the magnitude of emotions rushing through him, and he has to break the kiss before it overwhelms him entirely.

Insert Nick gasping for dear life breath -----------------

Arthur keeps his eyes closed, their foreheads still pressed together, trying desperately to not unravel at the seams. He’s almost afraid that this is a dream, that he’s going to wake up any second now, with Merlin still close but not like this. Not like Arthur has been craving for aeons.

In which Arthur is also Charlie -----------------

Arthur splutters, though he doubts that it sounds anywhere as indignant as he’d like it to. “How could I not know? If you recall, I was the one who kissed you first, all those months back when we were travelling to Ynys Gybi.” “Yes, and then you never brought it up again.” “Because you never brought it up again. I thought that you simply wanted to forget about it, or that I crossed a line!” Merlin huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are still brimming with affection. “I thought you regretted it,” he says quietly, lips quirked at the corners. “I thought you were just panicking, and that if you had meant it, you would’ve said something.”

A.k.a. conversation in Charlie's bedroom after their first kiss (except it's later on here) -----------------

Hunith takes one look at them the next morning before she smirks. “Finally figured it out, did you?” Arthur promptly chokes on his food, coughing and spluttering as his face grows warm. Merlin isn’t much better off, even the tips of his ears turning red, though at least he’s spared the coughing fit.

In which Hunith continues to be Sarah Nelson (or the Sarah Nelson Charlie expects, anyway) -----------------

Snow starts falling in big flakes about an hour in, and Arthur didn’t count on how much of a distraction it would be. It catches in Merlin’s hair and his lashes, a stark contrast to the black of it, and his eyes appear even brighter than usual. It’s a struggle to not drag him off and kiss the crystals of ice off his face, and Arthur can’t remember when he’s become such a terrible, utter sap. That is, until he steps out of Hunith’s house after lunch, just about warmed up from the thick stew she made, and a snowball hits him straight in the face.

If Nick & Charlie's Snow Day came slightly later. Or maybe this is just the same -----------------

[yourlocalcoffeeenthusiast]

I don't think Merlin ever stopped thinking of himself as a monster.

His mother was a very careful woman, never use magic, control it, never tell anyone, hide it. Always hide it. And yes, hunith was doing it to protect him, but she also never considered that her son was magic, that maybe she should have let him talk about it, at least with her. She never let merlin express his magic, so merlin never learned how to let others see his magic, see him.

Gaius was, in many ways just like his mother. Even more careful, he lived in Camelot after all, he witnessed the purge. He did acknowledge it, helped merlin to control it but he also sucked the fun out of it. Magic is a tool, use it for good, not fun it's too dangerous. And like that, merlin lost yet another part of himself. He was taught to not even express himself alone. His existence was tied to Arthur's well being, his magic stopped being a part of who he is, he became a tool for Arthur. And Merlin lost his sense of self.

The dragon scared him. Not with his teeth and fire, with the knowledge that this majestic being that was made of magic could be so full of hatred. The dragon was a monster. So he who was also made of magic, who had done so many horrible deeds, must also be a monster. And that's how his belief was reinforced, he must truly be a monster.

Morgana turned evil. This fierce, stubborn and truly good woman turned evil. And yes, he knew it was because of fear, but maybe, just maybe there was a little voice in his head, telling him magic does corrupt after all, it does change people. And that's how he lost his hope.

Arthur was his purpose, his reason for existence. And in the end he believed magic was evil. Merlin understood then, that he could never be free, never be understood. Maybe he kept dreaming, but they were just that, dreams. And that's how he lost his purpose.

Merlin never supported magic in a way that mattered. At the most important moment he betrayed it, betrayed himself. Yes, he lived Arthur, he didn't want to loose him, he was scared, he wanted to protect him. But there must have been another reason, a voice in his head thay kept saying he didn't deserve to be free, that magic didn't deserve to be free. Merlins life was made difficult by his magic and he had just as many bad experiences with it as Arthur had. So would it be that surprising if he, deep down, had the same resentment as the rest of Camelot for it?

[escespace]

I've never wanted to say this out loud but why do most fics have Merlin as the first to fall in love or if Arthur makes the first move, either way Merlin is already in love and had even been in love for a long time before.

I mean, that could clearly vary. There is so much depth to these characters. The duty, the trauma, the self-induced isolation that undoubtedly took its toll on one for being a prince without the same socialization capabilities as the average citizen, and on the other for his Unique condition even among those who should be his equals and are not, and for all his secrets.

Finding a different premise than the one I just mentioned is like looking for a mint candy in water.

And I've personally never felt like Merlin were more emotionally intelligent than Arthur. Perhaps to perceive emotions of others and to act on them, but when it comes to himself, as I said before, he atrophied since he arrived in Camelot and his life began to revolve around the Prophecy

My theory (personal and quite possibly fallible) is that if the boys had had the freedom and ability to acknowledge their feelings for each other as more than platonic, the first to recognize it would be Arthur, not Merlin. He would never have acted on it, let's be honest, duty and tradition always come first. That's why he would have preferred to enjoy the small details, dreaming about the what ifs, He has him by his side in a way that few (sometimes not even lovers) give themselves and that should be enough

On the other hand, Merlin lost himself in his faith like a fanatic in the face of tragedy. Taking refuge from the pain of loss and sacrifice before his only god. Keeping the hope that his actions would be more than just mistakes or heinous crimes, that are worth it in the end. Full of blood, full of scars and a trail of bodies behind.All for the supposed greater good, for Arthur. So that he may be the prophesied king. The savior of many, though never Merlin's himself. Then you will understand how difficult it is for me to believe that within that spiral Merlin has the tools or enough peace to identify a romantic love.Merlin loves Arthur, He truly believes in him, he knows him better than anyone because they have lived together what no one before them has lived. He knows it, but I don't see him being able to identify the kind of love so hyper-focused on it being a love of loyalty and faith (which I'm not saying isn't romantic love, just that he would not understand himself)

[living-an-infinite-nightmare]

Master Of Grief, Lord Of Tears.

Merlin OneShot.

summary:

"You were my safest place, Camelot never was. But I understood that you are Camelot as much as Camelot is you. And you were the ones who shattered me into pieces and left me with nothing. I tried to save you, protect you and love you, Arthur. But at that exact time, I was slowly killing myself. I'm tired, My Lord, I wish to be truly happy, at least once. I deserve it."

Word count: 1,177

Please, do not copy on other websites, this story is mine.

please enjoy! tell me what you think! <3

——————————————————————————

Magic was never the problem, unlike some say and believe.

Magic just existed, always was and always will. It was neither good nor bad. It just adapted to the hearts and will of its bearers, a blank canvas ready to be painted. Whether it was with darkness and blood or light and love.

Magic was just there.

"There" as in everywhere. In life or death, good and bad. The elements, the people, to the core of the Earth.

All around you, you could feel it. Powerful, always moving, alive.

Even when Uther Pendragon, The Cruel King, tried to purge it, magic never left.

Pendragon was a simple man, he hated and was afraid of an entity he could not understand or control.

Yes, the hearts of the ignorants can lead to irreversible agony.

Now there he was, son of the Triple Goddess, the child made of Magic, living inside the corrupted heart of Camelot, serving and protecting the ones that only took from him, leaving the Blessed Child with agony and emptiness.

He thought that Arthur Pendragon would be different from his father, and maybe he was. Merlin tried, but in the end, he failed to see the difference. Promises were made, and loves were confessed but fears were not fought and overcame.

They were always there, at the back of his mind. Never letting him enjoy life, always staying alert for that day to come. For the pyre and the flames. For death.

“They are your friends, they would never hurt you..” he would tell himself, a lie he forced himself to believe.

“But are they really?” his mind would counter, “How can they be your friends when you can't be yourself around them? How can they be your friends when you live in fear for your life every day because of them?”

Arthur, Percival, Elyan, Gwen, Leon, and even Gwiane were all the same in front of his magic. Always warning him to never truly trust. Lancelot was different, Merlin felt safe, safer than he ever was when he was around. It was a different type of safe than the one with Arthur because Lancelot knew. And Magic knew that. Merlin likes to believe that the Triple Goddess sent the man his way. To protect him.

But then, his protector died, right in front of him. And Merlin wanted to follow him right after. He resented everyone. Why did they get to live, when the only person that truly made him feel at home was gone? Why happiness was so cruel to him? What has he ever done to deserve that?

That night he cried with Gwen and talked for hours. She grieved that man she truly loved, and Merlin grieved a friend, knowing that Lancelot was way more than that. He was his anchor, but he could not say that to anyone anymore. Because he was gone.

The Druids were calling for him. Telling him to leave that wretched place and come to them. His people, his kin. He always ignored them, too focused on the prophecy and his love for Arthur Pendragon. But maybe, if he had left sooner, his heart would still be in one piece, still beating with hope inside him.

Only once, he thought about leaving Camelot. With Freya, his first love. And Arthur took that way from him, broke him. That's all he ever did, bringing him only pain and misery. He really should have left sooner.

Now, there he was, wandering in the forest at night looking for a way home. He took nothing with him, just a little food and his handkerchief. Nature would give him the rest, he was Her child, after all. He didn’t say goodbye to anyone. They would not understand, especially Arthur. He only wished that he could’ve taken Morgana with him, she deserved happiness too. But it would have been too dangerous, Uther loved her too much, It was too risky. Maybe one day she would find her way to him, to her kin. He would give her clues to do so, and he left her a letter, hoping that she would not betray him.

It was a chill night, the moon was full, shining upon him. He sat under a tree, tired from walking all day. He needed food and rest, home was a few days away.

“You should light a fire, otherwise, you will freeze to death.” someone said, walking away from the shadows to be seen. There he was, Arthur Pendragon, looking down at him. Did he follow him all the way? But why? To imprison him for leaving Camelot without consent? To bring him back and slowly kill him again?

“What are you doing here?” the warlock asked, confused, and scared.

“I could ask you the same thing,” the prince replied. “Pretty sure Gaius did not ask you to look for herbs at this time of the night, so far away from the castle.”

Seven Hells, he never imagined to be followed, so he did not know what to say to the man now sitting in front of him.

“I’m going home,” he said, after a while, not looking at the man.

“Ealdor is the other way.”

“That’s not my home anymore.”

“Right, I thought that Camelot was.”

“It is not.”

They stayed silent after that, both of them thinking, too afraid to say what is inside their hearts.

“So you are leaving Camelot?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I wish to be free.”

The prince was confused, he could see it. ‘How can one not be free in Camelot’ That is what was on his mind. Little did he know, not everyone was Uther Pendragon’s heir.

“But I thought–”

"You thought wrong.” the warlock stated.” you were my safest place, Camelot never was. But I understood that you are Camelot as much as Camelot is you. And you were the ones who shattered me into pieces and left me with nothing. I tried to save you, protect you and love you, Arthur. But at that exact time, I was slowly killing myself. I'm tired, My Lord, I wish to be truly happy, at least once. I deserve it."

Silence was upon them once again. A heavy one, filled with pain and regrets.

“I love you,” the prince said, looking at the man in front of him, tears in his eyes.

“I deserve more than your love, Arthur. Your love is not safe, it’s not warm. It’s a prison.”

“I don’t wanna lose you.”

“You can’t lose me, because I was never yours. Let me go, let me be who I am.”

“I don't get it.”

“You could never:”

They were both crying. So in love with each other, but not destined to be together. At least in this life.

“Go back to Camelot, and forget about me. And if you truly love her, you would free Morgana too.”

That’s the last thing he said to the man, before getting up and disappearing into the shadows, never to be seen again.

Maybe in their next life, they could be together.

[mrs-bartowski]

Okay, this hooked me a lot harder than I thought.

Truth? Crazy as it sounds, Time and Space have always been bending and warping together to kick our gay asses into gear so that we keep fighting for ourselves and our families till we're all truly free from bigotry and magic has returned to us in full.

On God Herself, Morgana turned evil because The CW disrespected Lena and Kara the same way that BBC disrespected Arthur and Merlin. It's no mistake that Katie played both Morgana and Lena. Now, they're all raging with Martha and Sylvia to keep our hearts rioting till we're free from the bullshittery of genocide. Forgive me, because I never finished Merlin and therefore have to google the connections to make sense of it all, but I promise you it works together.

Morgana (Harbinger of Chaos, one of the last remaining High Priestesses of the Triple Goddess) is a warning about the wrath of injustice and the betrayal of a friend whose path diverged from hers without warning

Merlin killing Morgana with Excalibur was literally like returning the sword to the stone, as her heart at that point was Frozen (pun intended, magic is magic, stay with me)

So, Morgana dies from Merlin's betrayal. Her magic and essence dissipate, as Matter cannot be created or destroyed, and my brain and its multiversal resurrection theories immediately jump to This

"When I came to this city, I promised myself I would never trust anyone again, and...then I met you. And you chipped away at my armor with your warmth and your earnestness, and you convinced me to trust in people, in friendship again, and against my better judgment, I did. All the while, warning you about my achilles heel: betrayal.

I confided in you that everyone in my past had betrayed me! About how much it hurts to have someone you love lie to you and betray you. I spelled it out to you over and over again. Begging you not to violate my trust, begging you not to prove that once again that I was a fool.

You reassured me ad nauseum that you would never lie to me, that you would never hurt me. And all the while, there wasn't a single honest moment in our friendship – "

"No, NO, that is NOT TRUE!"

"NO, I KILLED MY BROTHER FOR YOU, FOR OUR FRIENDS, DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'VE DONE?!"

What you've done...

Lena Luthor pours her heart out to her best friend, Kara Danvers, after a series of deep and disastrous betrayals that lead her to bring Merlin's fear for Morgana killing Arthur to life in Kara's name (not that we're surprised or disappointed in this case, I mean it is Lex). But this is Kara's doing. Not hers.

This is not something she cannot bear the weight of. This is what it feels like to lose everything.

Lena steals Myriad, a mind control device that carries loads of family trauma for Kara, because Lex uses his last breaths to tell her Kara is Supergirl after years of secrecy and now she wants to rid the world of harm by overriding and forcing everyone's brains to cooperate (believe me, Lena, I get you). After all, if even Kara can betray her, who can she possibly trust?

This all happens in none other than the Fortress of Solitude...which...

Emotional Isolation + Magic = Frozen = Water Is Memory (thanks Olaf, so sorry I don't have space for your gif)

Relevance?

1. Lena finds out in s6 that her mother was a witch and she can weild magic, but her scientific nature and disconnect from her mother leads her to fear using it. In a fear-induced vision during a s6 episode that was thematically linked to COVID, Lena sees her mother as a Kelpie, a celtic water spirit similar to the Nokk (water horse) in Frozen.

2. Morgana and the essence of her magic remember the feeling of betrayal well. They did even before Andrea (first bff), Lex (brother), Lillian (mother), Eve (assistant/confidant), and everyone else betrayed Lena. It's the one thing Lena has always been most afraid of and a strong indicator of past life trauma.

Now, deep down, Merlin's betrayal of Morgana was to protect Arthur because, well, yeah...

Meanwhile, Kara - much like our young king as he reassures his "best friend" that magic is not inherently evil because Merlin is not evil - devolves into desperation in the aftermath of Lena's betrayal as she realizes that, while she supposedly kept her secret from Lena to protect her and their friends and family, she's now realized she's losing the most important member of hers because of that secret, and Lena still thinks it's because she's a Luthor (fuck you, heteronormativity)

Lots of screamworthy injustice follows. Nightmares full of "just like I would any other villain" and "you are a monster. But that doesn’t mean i have to be one, too." Reconciliation is a bitch, but it happens.

But then, THEN, we have the peak of Supercorp's bullshittery exactly 9 years after Merlin and Arthur's show ends (9 is the number of completion in Numerology btw, whis is like magic and math combined) and just as Supercorp's is starting to wind down with only 7 eps left in the series, Kara and Lena give us the Iconic™️ 6x13 quote of

"Do you really not believe in Magic?"

"...I believe in you."

Which leads me and my incessant brain to these gems

Hmm, sounds a lot like Lena being afraid of losing Kara to betrayal...and yet

The Gays always come around

Now, similar to Arthur and Merlin, this is after Lena finds out Kara is Supergirl, after they have a huge falling out, and after they come back together.

HOWEVER. The conversation in 6x13 is flipped. In 6x01 (I know what's in your heart), Lena has lost so much faith and confidence in herself that her Goodness is lost on her and she feels she needs Kara to guide her (if I have to hear Lena's post-"evil"-breakdown of "you can yell at me if you'd like, I know I deserve it" on repeat one more time, my head is going to take a permanent leave from my shoulders).

Imagine Lena's fear of her own abilities by 6x13 after "almost becoming a villian" because the CW can't produce good writing for shit combined with Morgana's knowledge that her last betrayal got her killed, but with the feeling that this one has led to her being pieced back together even stronger.

She's a literal supergenius scientist with Morgana's latent magical power. Talk about dangerous...

And now, this belief Lena has in Kara despite her betrayal is how we know God is a Dangerous Woman (thanks Ari). Because, on review, the Big Picture leads up to this absolutely insane phenomen (described as briefly as possible):

There's 1x13, For the Girl Who Has Everything, where Kara is under the influence of the Black Mercy and has to choose between staying in a dreamt-up illusion of Krypton where it never died and returning to her life on earth as both a confused and lost human and newly developed Supergirl (mind you, s1 was on NBC, so they really set the stage for Kara's grapple with humanity without them or the CW even knowing it). It's torture to watch, but her sister Alex brings her home.

2x13, Mr. & Mrs, Mxyzptlk, where a 5th dimensional imp with unmatched magical power, Mxy, tries to force Kara to marry him while Lena is offscreen because the CW hadn't actually planned to make her a permanent member of the series until Supercorp's chemistry took off, so they had to write her in elsewhere. Kara deals with the classic patriarchal heteronormative male bullshit her then-toxicly-jealous-boyfriend, Mon-El, so aptly disgraces us with on her own, and both Mxy and Mon-El face her cold wrath as she advocates for her needs and boundaries.

3x13, Both Sides Now, where Kara is trying to save Julia Freeman, aka Purity, and Lena finds out her second oldest friend, Sam Arias, is unknowingly hosting Reign - both of whom are Kryptonian Worldkillers buried in Julia and Sam's Subconscious. Their efforts and struggles to maintain the humanity in Julia and Sam are disjointed and unknown to each other because Lena still has no clue Kara is Supergirl.

4x13, What's So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?, where The Elite (a merry band of rogues) are targeting Agent/The Children of Liberty (a crusader and his group of anti-Alien terrorists). Aliens and Humans are fighting to coexist, and Kara is trying to maintain the balance. Meanwhile, Lena is learning to trust and work with Alex, who also doesn't know Kara is Supergirl at this point due to J'onn mind-wiping her to protect both of them from the clearly corrupt government as Alex defies their attempts at gaining control over the DEO and its mission.

5x13, It's a Super Life, where my brain eats itself alive as Kara travels dimensions with none other than Mxyzptlk to undo her mistakes with Lena and rewrite their friendship by telling her The Secret before Lex can. Only to find out everyone dies the other ways and the world falls to ruin if they never become friends. Shocker. So, the woman who watched her planet die and spent over a decade in a tiny pod floating through a timeless wasteland concludes this experience as the most emotionally draining of her life, and Mxy ends the episode talking about loneliness and love and friendship with the famous line "that magic...it can't be forced. It has to be found."

And finally, 6x13, The Gauntlet, where Lena is figuring out how to tell Kara about her recently discovered magical roots and come to terms with them herself as Kara embarks on a test of courage to gain control of the Courage Totem which ANOTHER 5th dimensional imp, Nyxlygsptlnz (Nyxly), is trying to master and reunite with the other 6 AllStone totems to obtain ultimate power over all creation: energy, matter, magic, and even life and death.

So, to recap, we have a fateful choice between False Dreams and Painful Reality in 2016; a personal rebellion against Patriarchal Force and Heteronormativity in 2017; two separate efforts to protect the planet from rogue Harbingers of Chaos and Death by appealing to their Inner Humanity in 2018; a national Crisis of Humanity coinciding with personal Crises of Self-Discovery through Defiance of Personal and Government Corruption in 2019; a Time Traveling nightmare confirming Quantum Entanglement and the Star-Crossed Lovers trope in all ways BUT canon in 2020; and a shared journey through finding Mutual Courage and Support in the person who most deeply betrayed them in 2021.

Not to mention the parallels/dichtomies on the journey from "having everything" (Arthur and his royalty, Kara and her powers); to a massive personal change motivated by claims of destiny and magic (Merlin's arrival in Arthur's life, Kara's triumph over magical attempts at forced connection); to looking at it from "both sides now" (Merlin and Arthur being complete opposites working together, Kara and Lena having similar approaches but with separate efforts); to Truth, Justice, and (theoretically) Freedom through uniting against a common enemy (Merlin choosing Arthur over Morgana, Lena choosing Kara over Lex); to reflecting on life choices and debating altering history (Arthur resurrecting Uther, Kara traveling through time to save her friendship with Lena); all culminating in a Gauntlet of Courage (coming together to save the worlds they've built and protected together).

The synchronicity with our own bullshit as a world is truly unreal, let alone the ways magic syncs up across other worlds. My brain is still processing, but it makes a sick amount of sense that the star-crossed lovers would be gay and this world would be too blind to see it, in the same way it's too blind to see that we're repeating history every day.

Now we could stop there and say yeah, yeah its all the same, but it gets better.

Because, thanks to a glimpse into the future in Supergirl's finale, we have the Lena Luthor Foundation, which Lena unveils as Kara catches her eye from where she floats in the sky to watch from above. I've officially died in this moment because I've reached the 10-photo max and can't fit the pic of Morgana's Rowan Tree, but listen: it's the world's greatest Easter Egg.

Same Tree, Same Magic, Same Love.

If the tree isn't enough with the (possibly intentional) whole 13th episode thing on their own, you should also know:

A 2023 series called Mayfair Witches, based on Anne Rice's series of the same name, is about a baby who is stolen from her comatose mother and raised by her conservative, magic-fearing, secretive family. This is almost exactly what happens with Lena and the Luthors. The baby's name just so happens to be Rowan (yes, like the tree, what a CO-INCIDINCE).

She's a neurosurgeon and also the 13th witch in the Mayfair line. So, Rowan (like Lena), grows up not knowing who she is or who her mother is or that she has magic. When she discovers her magic, it's tied to a spirit, Lasher, who is destined to be reborn as her child. She defies her family, falls in love with her protector, Ciprien, and gets pregnant with Lasher.

How is this relevant, you ask? Well, my friends. Rowan is white. Ciprien is black. And if you can't yet tell why that matters, here's our Final Word (copied from a video transcript on a post I reblogged earlier but can't attach the video for bc Tumblr):

https://www.tumblr.com/mrs-bartowski/742141345802665984?source=share

First person:

"Black people are treated like a sexuality. And I do not-"

Video cuts to second person:

"See, I actually like this video. And I think I got a explanation for you.

The reason that blackness almost acts as a sexuality is because antiblackness is something that is so innate in the minds of nonblack people when growing up, that them preferring not to date someone who is black is almost as normal as them preferring not to date someone who isn’t their preferred sex.

Did y’all follow that? Like, let me give you an example. Like, a straight white male saying that they don’t date black girls is just as normal in society as a straight white male saying that they don’t date boys. And straight white women saying that they don’t date black boys was almost as normal as them saying they don’t date women. And granted, that example might not be as prevalent as the last one, but still.

And I know in both of those examples, they were white, but it applies with nonblack POC too. And to add a little bit of intersectionality, let’s be honest, it probably applies to some black men, too. And that’s a shame, that we would treat our own women similarly to that of a sex we don’t prefer.

Oh, I just thought of something! Antiblackness is something that is so innate in the minds of nonblack people that they would almost have to come out! Come out! And say that they like black people. It’s like homophobia was so innate that you would have to come out and say you’re homosexual.

That’s the one. I’m not even gonna lie, that’s the one."

And you know what? It is The One. Our struggles have always been the same. And if this isn't roundabout proof for anyone who hasn't yet seen how deeply intersectional and interconnected our struggles are, I encourage you to dig deeper.

Palestinian genocide in Gaza is no different than the genocide of magic-users in Camelot. Their stories are just as real as ours, and our support is vital to their survival.

In fact, it's quite the same struggle for all of us. Monotheism and the wars it has created over what eventually amounts to inconsequential differences in theology continue to suffocate and divide this world. Uniting against those differences and making peace with our infinite systems of belief is the only way we Live and Breathe Again.

The Christian Crusades killed Magic. Islamic and Christian radicals sent it Raging with War. But Jewish genocide in Palestine has Awoken its determination to put an end to our suffering and unite us - as humans and everything beyond us - once and for all.

Yes, there are many people who know little of any of this and continue to live in the dark. It was honestly a trigger for me to see a post with someone minimizing genocide with the nightmares in Gaza, so this post is literally the only thing I've been able to focus on today. Desensitization to others' struggles is learned, but it can also be unlearned.

Seeing these connections is your chance to meet them with hope. Most people don't pay attention because they feel overwhelmed by the reality of Chaos in this world. It seems a poor excuse to those who can't afford to turn a blind eye, but I can't say I haven't felt it myself. That seeing it all every day doesn't tear me apart.

But we are all born from Chaos. Chaos is Darkness. Darkness is the home of The Unknown. And The Unknown is the Home of the Bridge between Science, Art, and Magic.

As the unknowns of our world becomes less and less, as our connections and collaborations as a people and world grow and places like Tumblr and TikTok and Twitter come together (yes, against all odds, considering most people on here do have all 3 whether you use them or not) to bridge gaps and share stories and traditions and dances and ideas and experiences, the fear of that darkness starts to dissolve. The less of each other we fear, the stronger we are. And that's what El Mayarah is all about.

TLDR; Katie McGrath and her brilliant Irish mind dropped the seed of Morgana's Rowan tree into our magic-deprived brains as a reminder of the perpetual systemic injustices (real-world and magical) that are still possible to overcome. The ripple effect can be seen in all art, and it's always interconnected.

Right now, we're all dealing with and healing from the consequences of the senseless divisions that have rippled through our lives and all the stories we know and love by restoring their connections and making it all make sense with art, which we share to build even more connections with each other. Learning to love each other's art even when we don't understand it by finding the human connection within is the first step to true peace. Even the fandoms you hate, even (and especially) the problematic shit. Art is life, and we're all just trying to make sense of it. Lack of access to other perspectives is the only thing that has ever really divided us. We're already changing that. We just need to make space for the opportunity to learn.

Shoutout to all our tumblr fandoms for seeing and saving the worlds through art. Keep going. Bring the connections between that art and the real world to life. We can all heal. It just has to be together.

From the River to the Sea, Palestine Will be Free 🇵🇸

The fact that Merlin was such a huge thing despite having of one the worst plots ever really goes to show just how important actors are . Seriously do people actually remember the plot ? The entire plot was : “

The King is a tyrant that is literally committing genocide against magical people . Our hero the wizard Merlin must protect this tyrannical King because ….. the prince is supposed to become a great king but he needs some time to live ,love and laugh before he becomes king . So yeah we will let the genocide continue until our boy has gotten out of his system and can grow up? What’s that? The kind hearted Morgana who stands against injustice and genocide from the start ? Yeah we will turn her into a mad villain. How ? Well that’s not important . We will just have a time skip and she will suddenly be evil now . Stop questioning us , shut up and just ship the two quite obviously straight male characters

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Kilgharrah: “Kill that child, Merlin.”

Merlin (like a normal person): “No?? What the fuck???”

And with that, everything changed.

Part 2   Part 3(final part)

“You must let the boy die.”

Kilgharrah’s voice echoed incessantly through Merlin’s head for days after the Druid boy’s appearance, and subsequent disappearance. 

Merlin had, of course, ignored the scaly old bastard, and hadn’t once questioned if he’d done the right thing by hiding Mordred away in his tiny bedroom.

If the boy truly had such a terrible destiny, then the best thing for Merlin to do was to keep him close, if not to steer him away from his fate, then to at least be able to see it coming if it was indeed inevitable.

Currently, Morgana was the only one aware that Mordred was still here (other than Gaius of course, who was somehow disapproving and proud at the same time). As far as everyone else was concerned, Arthur and Uther included, the boy was never found, and must have slipped out of the city somehow (going by the extra patrols in the woods, as opposed to the castle and town).

The Warlock was nervous about anyone knowing at first, but when Morgana had tearfully thanked him for saving Mordred, and proceeded to sneak in spare blankets, food, and money for clothes, Merlin was glad for the co-conspirator.

The boy was currently curled up in the corner of Merlin’s room, a pile of blankets and pillows organised like a bird’s nest around him, wearing a soft shirt and sleeping the night away.

Merlin watched him from his bed, realising with growing horror just how protective of Mordred he had already become. He was so young. How could Merlin even consider punishing a child for some stupid destiny he didn’t even know about?

He had to think of a solution quickly. He couldn’t risk sending him away, not even to the Druids, they were as much slaves to the so-called prophecies as Kilgharrah was, and Merlin had once been (”Gods. Sounds like I’ve been dealing with destiny for years. It’s been like six months. I’m too young for this shit.”). But equally... what could he do with him??

Thankfully, no one had really gotten a good look at the boy, so hopefully with a change of clothes and a haircut, he wouldn’t be recognised, at least not if Merlin came up with a convincing enough story.

To be honest... the cover story worried him far more than the prospect of someone recognising him. Uther hadn’t recognised Nimueh, the woman who had been his court sorceress for years... the man was apparently not very observant.

In the end, it was a throwaway comment by Morgana a few days later, about a week after the Druid boy had “escaped” that gave Merlin a very stupid idea. So stupid, that it might just work.

~

Morgana had once again snuck away from the main castle to sit with Merlin and Mordred in the servant’s room. 

Gaius had said nothing as she’d entered the Physician’s chambers, enough food for four hidden away in the picnic basket she carried, just raised his eyebrow slightly, and thanked The Lady for the food offering that was definitely-not-a-bribe.

She gave him a quick wink, and the old physician rolled his eyes fondly as he set an overturned bucket in front of the door; if anyone came in, they would come in loudly.

Mordred was happy to see her, and Merlin hid a fond smile at the boy’s quiet giggles. He still didn’t speak much, so it was a relief to see him finding joy in something, even if it was clandestine visits from Uther’s ward.

She ruffled his hair slightly, resisting the urge to pull the touch averse boy into a tight hug, and set the basket on the bed. Merlin sat against the pillows, and Morgana sat down opposite him, the basket in between them as Mordred clambered up to sit just in front of Merlin.

Morgana and Merlin talked quietly as they ate, Mordred staying silent as the adults (or...as adult as they could get. Like Merlin kept thinking to himself, he was too young for this shit at sixteen, and Morgana was only two years older than him) avoided the elephant in the room.

The elephant being that they couldn’t keep this up forever. Arthur had a habit of bursting in whenever he so pleased, and it was a miracle he hadn’t done so already. Plus, it would be cruel to expect Mordred to stay cooped up in here for much longer. He was a child, he deserved to play outside and explore and do all the other things he couldn’t do in Merlin’s bedroom.

Once they finished eating, Mordred moved to his makeshift bed in the corner, tightly clutching a book that Morgana had bought him, and furrowing his brows in concentration as he read.

Morgana stared at him with a soft smile, and Merlin sighed, once again worrying about his new ward’s future.

Morgana tilts her head, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her, and looks slowly between Merlin and Mordred as the servant raises a questioning eyebrow at her.

“You know Merlin, the two of you look remarkably similar.”

Mordred is engrossed in his book, and doesn’t react at all to Morgana’s quiet comment, but Merlin’s eyebrow goes even higher as he huffs out a laugh:

“You think? I don’t see it.”

Morgana looks at him with a deadpan expression:

“Merlin, you don’t have a mirror in here. I’m fairly certain you have no concept of what you look like.-”

Merlin looks indignantly offended for all of two seconds before he sighs and nods, she’s right to be fair. He’s tall-ish, with pale skin, and he thinks he has brown hair. That’s about all he knows.

Morgana chuckles as she once again looks at Mordred:

“You both have very dark hair, bright blue eyes, pale skin. You know...-”

She looks back at him with a thoughtful frown on her face:

“-if someone told me you were brothers... I’d believe it.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow:

“Really?”

She nods decisively:

“Yeah. I mean, the more I think about it, the more I look between you, yes. You could definitely be related.”

Merlin nods his head slowly, thinking. He takes in a deep breath and tilts his head slightly:

“It could work. I haven’t really talked to anyone about my family so... we could say that... he came to live with me? Because life here is... good?”

Morgana snorts slightly, rolling her eyes before looking back at him seriously:

“You’d have to be more convincing than that. You could say that the harvest was poor in your village? That Mordred was better off coming to stay with his big brother in the big city?”

Merlin nods at her words, grimacing slightly as he mutters:

“If we’re running with the whole... brother thing, I need to write a letter to my mum, just in case. Gods she’s going to laugh so much.”

Morgana laughs at him quietly, but the noise finally catches Mordred’s attention and he looks up in confusion. Merlin moves the basket to the floor, and gestures to the boy to come over.

He walks over wordlessly, climbing up to kneel between them, biting his lip nervously.

“Is it time for me to leave, Emrys?” echoes through Merlin’s head, and he gives the boy a comforting smile, shaking his head slightly, before saying out loud:

“You’re staying with me, Mordred-”

The boy smiles slightly as he stares at Merlin in reverence, and Morgana quickly hides her questioning gaze. She could see that there was more between them than simple protectiveness over a child, and thankfulness for being saved, but she kept her thoughts to herself as Merlin continued:

“-but we can’t keep you hidden in here forever, so we’re going to tell people that you’re my younger brother, come to live with me. Is that alright?”

Mordred nods his head vigorously, and Merlin chuckles slightly as the boy’s grin grew:

“Ok. We’ll get you a haircut and tell Gaius the plan. Probably wait a few more days for things to settle down further, and then see how it goes, ok?”

Mordred nods once more, smile not leaving his face. Morgana bites her lip to stop herself from laughing at Merlin’s shocked face when the boy threw himself into the servant’s arms for a tight hug.

~

Merlin spends the next few days teaching Mordred all about Ealdor and his mother and Will, so that the boy could have at least a little knowledge on what was supposedly his home and family.

The next time Morgana came to visit, she brought a comb and a sharp pair of scissors, as well as a few more changes of clothes that looked less... Druid. By the time she left that evening, Mordred had much shorter hair, and a wide grin on his face at the prospect of finally being able to go outside (he was Druid after all, he needed trees and fresh air).

The letter had been sent home, and Merlin was expecting a reply any day now. The only thing left to worry about was how to hide Mordred’s Druid marking. It would be easy to cover with clothes, but Uther’s increasing paranoia meant that it would be best if they could find a more permanent solution.

Gaius suggested some sort of glamour spell fairly quickly, but Merlin was unwilling to cast one on the boy until he’d mastered it.

And THAT meant showing up to serve Arthur with ink all over his hands that he had tried and failed to cover.

Merlin had also realised with dawning horror, that he would have to tell Morgana the truth. She knew about the marking, and she was smart, there was no way that hiding it wasn’t something that had occurred to her. She would bring it up eventually, and how could Merlin explain without having to... explain??

Morgana was already risking her favour with the King, and frankly, her life, by protecting a Druid... she would do the same for Merlin, right? But Mordred hadn’t actually done any magic... BUT she’d always spoken against executions... BUT Merlin had lied and hidden it from her, his friend...

Hmm...

In the end, he’d decided he would just have to suck it up, and tell her. Fuck whatever that dragon said. After Kilgharrah’s last round of... advice, Merlin had been ignoring his calls. If there was an emergency, the cryptic bastard would tell him, and until then he could just sulk in that cave on his own.

That two weeks was also enough for Uther to become convinced that the mysterious Druid boy really was long gone, and to just forget about it. He was pissed of course, but talking about it and extending the search just highlighted that a child, barely eleven summers, had managed to evade all of his forces and that... did not cast him in a good light.

It took Merlin about two weeks to fully master the spell, which was longer than the three of them were hoping, but he was adamant that he perfect it before he cast it on Mordred, and Gaius was incredibly impressed at his ward’s determination.

Morgana was of course confused about why they kept pushing it back, she thought they were only going to wait a few days before they started introducing Mordred, but she trusted Merlin and saw no harm in waiting a little longer.

When Morgana arrived that evening, she could tell that Merlin was... anxious. They’d agreed on a specific day to make introductions but it wasn’t until the end of this week, it didn’t make any sense for Merlin to suddenly be nervous about it.

Mordred wasn’t quite as good at hiding his emotions, and didn’t even giggle like he normally did when Morgana came over, just stared at his “brother” anxiously.

Morgana rolled her eyes and huffed as she shut the door:

“Alright, Merlin. What is it? Spit it out.”

Merlin opened his mouth, about to come out with an excuse, before he snapped it shut again and took a deep breath.

It worried him, how easy, how automatic it was for him to lie, but that was a worry for another time.

Mordred reached up and took his hand, squeezing it, and Merlin looked down at him with a weak smile before sitting on the bed and gesturing that Morgana join him.

She looked at him worriedly, but settles where he gestures, and doesn’t acknowledge the way Mordred sits defensively between them.

The boy looks back at Merlin:

“Are you sure, Emrys?”

Merlin gives him another smile, and squeezes his shoulder slightly as he raises an eyebrow:

“I’m sure. And you need to get used to calling me Merlin at some point.”

Mordred pouts slightly, and Merlin ruffles his hair as he laughs, before looking back up at Morgana’s questioning stare.

He takes another deep breath, before slowly speaking:

“I... we’ve found a way to properly hide Mordred’s marking.”

Morgana looks taken aback, but relieved:

“Oh. Is that all? That’s good isn’t it? I have to admit, it was worrying me.”

Merlin gulps:

“Yeah it... it is good... it’s just, it involves... magic.”

Morgana raises her eyebrow, and nods slowly, as if it were obvious:

“I figured it would be. It’s not like it would be easy or reliable to cover it with make-up every morning, or hide it with clothes.-”

It’s Merlin’s turn to look taken aback now, and Mordred fixes her with an unreadable expression. Morgana continues:

“-The problem, lies in finding someone willing to do whatever spell it is. Someone we could trust wouldn’t share the secret, no matter what.”

Merlin grimaces slightly, more gulping, and taking yet another deep breath:

“We already have someone. Me.”

Morgana gasps slightly, and she’s vaguely aware of the brothers in front of her tensing up, but all she can focus on is the gold of Merlin’s irises.

The gold fades, and Merlin clears his throat, breaking her out of her stupor. She reaches over and punches Merlin harshly on the arm before getting up and beginning to pace, speechless.

Merlin and Mordred panic at first, but when she makes no moves towards the door in her pacing, they relax. That only lasts for a moment or two however, before she looks back to Merlin, furious:

“Are you thick Merlin? Why on earth would you learn magic in Camelot of all places?? Do you have a death wish!?”

Merlin laughs slightly, cheeks turning pink as he rubs the back of his neck:

“Actually uh... I was born with magic; I’ve always had it. My mother sent me here because she thought I would learn to control it better.”

Morgana looks incredulous as she continues to rant:

“What? With the fear of execution hanging over your head?! That’s not control, that’s terror.”

Merlin shrugs:

“It works though. My magic is mostly instinctual, the threat of torture by pyre sure as hell stops me from losing control when I’m angry or scared or whatever...”

Morgana huffs, crossing her arms and fixing him with a glare. Both Merlin and Mordred cower slightly as they are reminded of angry and disproving mothers; as if they were about to be scolded for getting their clothes dirty, or ruining their dinner with too many snacks.

She just stares at him for a minute, before she sags slightly, and begins chuckling at the boys’ fearful faces:

“You are ridiculous. But it’s far too late to persuade you to leave now. Does Arthur know?”

Merlin’s face morphs into a mournful frown, as he looks to the floor and mumbles:

“No. I wish I could tell him but... with Uther...”

Morgana sighs, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“Uther won’t be here forever. We’ll just have to keep Arthur from turning into too much of a prat before he becomes King.-”

Merlin laughs at that, and looks up to give the woman a grateful smile. She returns his smile before continuing:

“-So, you can do the spell?”

Merlin winces slightly and gestures for Mordred to pull the collar of his shirt down, to reveal a blank patch of skin:

“I’ve actually already done it. It’ll stay there permanently until I take it off. Though we should keep checking, just in case.”

Morgana looks surprised, and smiles:

“What’s the problem then?-”

She rolls her eyes when Merlin looks at her incredulously:

“-Oh, come on Merlin. I’m not going to turn you in, you’re safe with me. You both are, and you always will be.”

The servant jumps up to give her a tight hug, which she quickly returns as Mordred nervously joins in. Morgana smiles to herself, and squeezes her boys tighter.

She may love Uther and Arthur, and she knew they loved her back, in their own way, but this? This was family.

~

The time finally came for Merlin to introduce his baby brother. Hunith had supposedly dropped him off late last night and left immediately, having to get back home quickly. 

Morgana had gone to gather Gwen and Arthur whilst Merlin and Mordred waited in their room (it was definitely their room now, instead of just Merlin’s).

It was early in the morning, and to say that Arthur was grumpy at being woken by Morgana instead of Merlin, was an understatement.

But he eventually caved, and dressed himself as he grumbled, allowing Morgana to drag him to meet Gwen (who was equally confused) before the three of them made their way to the Physician’s chambers.

Gaius was suspiciously absent, and Morgana knocked on Merlin’s door, before slowly opening it and walking in, Arthur and Gwen following her quickly.

Gwen was surprised at the sight of Merlin stood behind a child, hands protectively on his shoulders, but smiled and gave Mordred a soft wave in greeting.

Arthur however, froze, and stared at the boy with a shocked expression.

Morgana moved to stand next to Mordred, and took one of his hands as Merlin began to speak:

“Gwen, Arthur, I want you to meet my baby brother, Mordred. He’s come to live with me.”

Gwen waved again, and bent over to Mordred’s height:

“Hi Mordred, I’m Guinevere, but all my friends call me Gwen. I didn’t know that Merlin had a brother, but it’s lovely to meet you.”

Mordred gave her a small smile, and Merlin suppressed a chuckle as-

“I like her, Em- Merlin.”

-echoed through his head.

Arthur’s gaze moved away from Mordred finally, up to Merlin.

Merlin stared back at him blankly, but Arthur saw the way his jaw clenched as he moved a protective hand down, to pull Mordred closer to him.

The Prince let out a deep sigh, growling slightly as Gwen looked at him in confusion, and Morgana and Merlin stared at him challengingly.

He shook his head as his shoulders sagged, and he rubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands before looking back to Mordred with a strained smile:

“It’s nice to meet you, Mordred. My name’s Arthur.”

With that, Morgana smirks slightly, and Merlin relaxes. Gwen just rolls her eyes:

“Sorry about him Mordred, he doesn’t spend much time around people your age.”

Mordred gives her another smile, and Merlin glances to Gwen, before looking down at Mordred:

“Why don’t you go with Morgana and Gwen to see the city a little? Me and Arthur need to talk, I’ll catch up with you later, ok?”

Mordred turns around quickly, and grabs Merlin’s hand tightly:

“You promise??”

Gwen holds in an “awww” and Morgana hides her smile. Mordred rarely talks aloud (she’d been told of the mental link), but she’s glad to see he was feeling at least a little more comfortable.

Merlin crouches down, and pulls the boy into a tight hug, stroking his hair slightly as he stares straight at Arthur:

“I promise. I’ll never leave you for long Mordred.”

Arthur gulps at Merlin’s hard stare, but gives him an almost imperceptible nod, which Merlin returns as he stands up. Mordred gives him one more look as he takes one of Morgana’s hands, and one of Gwen’s, and follows them out of the room.

Morgana shuts the door quietly, and Arthur sighs again before looking at Merlin:

“What are you thinking Merlin?? You just thought I wouldn’t notice?”

Merlin crosses his arms, his glare still hard:

“No, I knew you would notice, I just had faith that you’re a better man than your father.”

Arthur is still deep in his “my father can do no wrong” faze, and takes great offense at that, taking a threatening step forward and growling:

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin just huffs and raises an eyebrow slightly:

“I had assumed that you were not the type of man to have a child executed, just for existing.-”

Merlin copies Arthur’s step forward, raising his chin and continuing, his voice low and dangerous:

“-Did I assume correctly? Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect that kid, Arthur. Nothing.”

Arthur stares at him incredulously, only managing to hold Merlin’s surprisingly confident stare for a few moments, before nodding and stepping back:

“Of course. He’s a child, Merlin, I won’t see him hurt, if I can help it.”

Merlin nods slowly, not looking away from Arthur as he softly says:

“I’ll hold you to that.-”

He walks around The Prince, opening the door and stepping halfway through before looking over his shoulder, and quietly saying to a confused Arthur:

“-If you truly believed that all magic is evil, and always corrupted, no matter what, then you wouldn’t care that he’s a child; you’d want him dead anyway. So perhaps think about your... prejudices, a little more deeply, maybe you’ll discover you are different to Uther in other ways as well.”

Before Arthur can even really process what Merlin said, the servant is shutting the door behind him, and rushing off to find his new brother.

~

OK SO!!! 

I really LOVED writing this, there will definitely be more parts, I just figured I should end it here before I got carried away

This series is finished!! (Links at the top <3 )

[archies-litterbox]

of poison, forest floors, and terrified wizards

Summary: Out all alone on what was meant to be a simple errand, collecting herbs for Merlin, Douxie is downed when some pickpocket throws a fistful of black powder in his face - a magic surpressant and poison to wizards, he comes to find out the hard way. Unable to move or use his magic, as attempts to do both cause nothing but agony, the moppet has no choice but to rely on the slim hope of someone finding him before the poison overtakes him.

A/N: This is my first toa fic! I’ve spent the past year mostly just doing fic for witcher, so this is a nice change of pace :) I had fun with this! I thought about what would happen if there was some sort of substance in TOA that acted as a poison/magic surpressant to wizards... and ofc it turned into douxie whump (but it’s moppet!douxie which is even more painful :( ). Enjoyyy!

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Poisoning/Sickness, Temporary Paralysis, blood mention (but no bleeding)]

---

All Douxie had been sent out to do was collect some herbs for Merlin. It wasn’t even in the uncertain ground like the Wild Wood, but a patch of forest he’d been sent to fetch ingredients from countless times. It should have been a simple enough task for the moppet, which is why he hadn’t woken Archie from his afternoon nap - which he was taking on Douxie’s bed - to have his familiar accompany him. And truly, the task itself was simple; it didn’t take Douxie very long at all to go into the woods and find a patch of the plants Merlin told him to fetch - something about a potion ingredient, the apprentice vaguely recollected.

Indeed, he found it without any trouble, but when he felt a figure speed past his back and steal away the little pouch of herbs he’d collected before speeding off into the woods, that was when the trouble started.

The rational part of him (which said exactly what he’d reckoned Archie would be telling him right now) told him just to pick more, but it was overshadowed by how downright insulting this woodland pickpocket was! Before he’d been taken in by Merlin, conning and using slight-of-hand to his advantage was one of his only means of survival, so to not only be stolen from, but in a way so lacking in cunning? The audacity!

It was the principal of the matter that sent him running after the thief, darting this way and that until he was lost in the thick of the woods, focused only on tailing the pickpocket.

“Hey! Stop!” Douxie panted, “You’re stealing from a master wizard!”

That didn’t seem to entice the thief to stop.

“Well… his apprentice, anyway!” he added for reasons unsure to even himself. Maybe honesty would help?

Well, thanks to his trusty, gangly legs, he caught up to the thief and got close enough to grab their wrist, and he thought it would be smooth sailing after that.

Yeah! Alright! I’ll just get my herbs back and deal with this thief and -

The thief turned around and threw a handful of black powder in his face.

Fuzzbuckets.

Douxie squeezed his eyes shut as soon as he felt them sting, coughing into his elbow to hack up the charcoal tasting powder that flew into his mouth and nose. That little trick stopped him in his tracks, but he wasn’t deterred. Not mentally. He still wanted to try to catch up… 

...but his legs wouldn’t move.

No matter how badly he wanted - demanded his legs to obey him, they remained tense, frozen in that position of one in front of the other.

What?

One terrifying moment later, they did move. But not into the sprint he wanted to take - no, to do something worse: to buckle underneath him and send him falling onto his side against the forest floor. 

And he couldn’t get up.

No matter how much he willed his body to do it, he couldn’t get up.

It was like when he’d have nightmares and he’d realize he was having a nightmare; it took forcing his body to toss and turn and shift from side to side as much as he could to rouse him back to the realm of the fully conscious.

But he couldn’t even do that. He couldn’t rouse himself from this nightmare because he couldn’t push himself up.

Wait.

No.

He couldn’t move.

Nearing complete panic, he internally begged and pleaded to find some sort of mobility, but his limbs grew numb by the second, and wherever he still had feeling, it ached - utterly, reprehensibly ached. Not only that, but it was cold. So, so cold, despite the warm atmosphere of the summer afternoon that hung around him so tauntingly.

He’d never felt more scared in his life. Not even being threatened at swordpoint by Sir Galahad and his men, knowing that he’d be killed for something like a measly alley trick, was as terrifying as this - not even that made his blood run cold (literally, it felt like, as well as figuratively) like this did.

And he was sure that was clear to the thief he’d tried to catch. They stood over him, and he couldn’t see their face from where his head lay on the ground, cheek against the grass, but with his glassy, wide eyes flickering between straining to look at his poisoner - because that’s what this was, a poison -  and darting around wherever they could look without him moving his head - because he couldn’t even do that - as black strands of hair lay loose on his cheek because he couldn’t lift a hand to move them, he was sure looked every bit as terrified as he felt.

The thief laughed. Laughed.

“A master wizard’s apprentice, eh?” they spoke, their voice dripping with mock fascination that made Douxie wish that someone, anyone would come to help him, “And your great master never told you to pick your battles? He must not have, if you felt so inclined as to chase me all through the woods for a plant you could have just picked a little more of. It was right in front of you, after all.”

The realization which dawned on Douxie would have made his blood run cold if it didn’t feel like it already was. They’d pickpocketed him because they counted on him pursuing them, even to the point of ending up in the thick of the woods, far away from where Merlin or Archie expected him to be - far away from where they’d know to look for him.

Douxie finally tried to shout for help, but his throat was just as tense - as frozen as the rest of his muscles, and his jaw was too tight to open as much as he’d need to scream. All he could do was gasp and force shuddering breaths in and out of his lungs, which was still a trying ordeal - too trying for something like breathing to have been.

“Trying to scream? Really?” the poisoner-thief asked as if it was an absurd thing to do in the moppet’s position (which it wasn’t), “Next thing you know, you’ll try mustering a spell.”

Against his better judgement, for trying a spell couldn’t have been a good idea if his own assailant was suggesting it, he tried to force a little magic to his fingertips.

It burned. Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, it burned. His hand hadn’t even hurt this badly after he’d botched a lightning spell and scarred his wrist in the process.

Douxie wheezed at the sensation, and the thief laughed again.

“Oh, this is rich!” they exclaimed, “this has already paralyzed you hand and foot, and you thought some conjuring would help? What do you think this was made to diminish, Apprentice of Ambrosius?

Douxie couldn’t even think of a swear worthy of this (“fuzzbuckets” was too tame), his mind still flooded with fear and his hand still aching from his botched magic attempt. How had they already known he was Merlin’s apprentice? Sure, he’d mentioned being an apprentice to a master wizard, but he wasn’t that specific.

But he wasn’t worried about that as much as what this implied about his magic, and what this - whatever it had been - was doing to it.

“This,” His assailant bent down and held up their fingertips to his face, showing him the black powder on them. “Seeps away your magic. Or poisons it, or diminishes it, or eats away at it - I’m not a poet, and apt synonyms aren’t my strong suit.”

They stood back up all the way, and Douxie wanted to plead, but the words wouldn’t come out. They wouldn’t even form. This - he couldn’t lose his magic. Not on something as measly as an herb collection.

“All of this-”

They gestured to his paralyzed, twitching form.

“Is just a side effect. A byproduct of attacking your magic.”

Douxie tried curling his hand into a fist. Not only were his muscles so weak that he could only curl his fingers for a second in what looked more like a spasm than a conscious movement, but grabbing the wrong end of a knife would have hurt less.

The powder-tosser winced mock-sympathetically.

“Shame, really. I hoped the master wizard you served could be the one to deal with this.”

For a moment, in his agony, he wished he was. Douxie squandered the thought as quickly as it came up, hating himself for conceiving it. He couldn’t wish this on anyone, least of all the wizard who saved him, who plucked him off the streets.

But why couldn’t he save him now?

“Ah, well.” They reached down to Douxie’s face and put a strand of hair behind his ear.

Douxie wanted to cry.

“S’pose you’ll do. It’ll be a kick in the teeth for him anyway, when you don’t come back from your little errand after hours and hours, and by the time they send out a search party…”

The smugness and certainty in their tone made Douxie whimper, the first vocal noise he’d been able to make in all of this, after naught but wheezing and gasping. Where was he going to get dragged off to? The Wild Wood? Were they in league with trolls, hoping to get an edge on King Arthur? Or were they a bandit, hoping to take all his goods off of him (which weren’t much, unless they counted the black cat fur on his vest) and keep him in some rackety shack until a ransom note made its way to Merlin?

(Would he even pay it, considering Douxie’s incompetence?)

“Well, they’ll find you right here, I’m sure, but…”

Douxie could hear them mock-wince again, and their implication was worse than anything he’d assumed in the moments before. He couldn’t hear the rest of their sentence over his own panic that, combined with the poison, made his head swim.

He wasn’t going to be taken anywhere.

He was going to be left here, to - to - to - 

His panic pushed him to try his magic again on impulse alone, and it felt like both his hands were on fire. His throat, as tight as it was, finally let him groan through his teeth.

“An exercise in futility, little wizard.” his attacker taunted, “In fact…”

They took his bracelet - only three fingers wide at this point in his training - right off his wrist, which made him squeak as he tried, tried, tried to shake his head, and threw it into a bush in what was both further assurance of his powerlessness and an insult to injury.

“I would say you should try to get comfortable…” 

They stood up and took a few steps back, leaving the little field of vision Douxie had from where his head lay on the ground.

“...But I suppose that would be another exercise in futility.”

He heard the poisoner-thief run off, their footfalls fading as the pounding of his racing heart, which drummed against his ears in sync with their steps, drowned out the noise until they were out of earshot.

He was alone.

He couldn’t move, some poison was seeping away his magic - his very lifeforce - and tensed his body up so rigidly that he couldn’t even scream, and he was alone.

If he could’ve, he would have curled up into a ball as small as he could make himself in hopes that the dangers of the woods and the dire circumstances of his situation would pass him by.

If he could’ve, he would have screamed, even though he knew he was far away from the earshot of anyone who might have come looking for him by that patch of herbs where he said he’d go, and he knew that Archie, who could have tracked his scent here, was still sleeping because, in his arrogance, he hadn’t thought to wake him.

If he could’ve, he would have dragged himself to his gauntlet, wherever it had been thrown, because even if it wouldn’t have done anything to get him out of this, at least he wouldn’t have felt so helpless, even though helpless was exactly what he was.

But he couldn’t.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and feel his tears run down the bridge of his nose as his lips contorted into a grimace, the only two things he could do with his body where the movement itself didn’t outweigh how badly he wanted - needed to do it.

All he could hope for, against hope itself, was that he’d be found here.

Before all that could be found was his body.

---

He wished he could just sleep.

The grassy ground underneath him was soft enough, and his position on his side could have been comfortable enough. Maybe it would have helped pass the time until the poison ran its course, whatever that entailed.

But whatever this was, it didn’t even grant him that luxury. Whether it was an effect of the poison or a product of his own adrenaline and terror, Douxie was wide awake.

Not only that, but after what might have been an hour or two (judging by the sunlight’s reflection off the dewey grass), his body would periodically twitch because of the poison. Sometimes his leg would kick out like a dog, or his shoulder would seize up to the point where it touched his ear, or his hand would ball into a fist.

But his poisoned body didn’t care which of his movements were voluntary or otherwise - it stung all the same. Not like the horrific burning that came with his attempts at magic, but a grating, awful ache right down to his bones. The spontaneous twitches never let him even come close to unconsciousness, and maybe that was a good thing - every breath was more or less of a laborious gasp, a conscious effort of his, and if he’d lost consciousness and stopped forcing them in and out of his lungs… he didn’t want to imagine it.

He wished his panic would quiet enough for him to get bored laying here - he would have preferred it to this, and it would have made sense, considering that he was stuck staring at the same blades of grass and patch of trees that he’d been staring at for the past hour.

And they weren’t even particularly interesting trees or blades of grass, not that they would have distracted him very well if they were.

He wondered if anyone had started looking for him by now. Maybe Merlin was growing impatient without the ingredients he asked for, and maybe Morgana had started to wonder why “Little Douxie” hadn’t come back to the castle.

He wondered if Archie had woken up from his nap and noticed Douxie’s absence yet. If anyone could insist that someone go out and search for him, it would be his familiar. He didn’t want to delude himself by thinking it would help though.

He wondered the importance of those herbs he was collecting before. Were they really that important to whatever Merlin had been working on? Were they worth chasing that thief down? Were they worth all of this?

He was pulled from his thoughts when a shadow cast over the grass he’d been staring at - the shadow of a creature flying overhead and hovering above him.

If he could’ve curled into himself, just to look as small as possible, he would have. What if it was a vulture, waiting to scavenge him? What if it was a monster, or a winged troll, here to carry him off to some trollish nest in the Wild Wood? None of the thoughts that came to mind were soothing by any means. As the creature swooped down, all Douxie could do was squeeze his eyes shut and hope he wouldn’t be harmed any further.

Even when the figure landed in front of him and stepped closer and closer, he didn’t look at it. It wasn’t until he could feel it’s breath on his face, one of the only sensations of the past few hours that didn’t hurt, that he opened his eyes.

A face of black fur greeted him.

And yellow eyes.

And a round pair of glasses.

Archie!

He couldn’t even say the word, but a sob escaped his throat - a sob of relief? A sob of terror that this might have been the start of an onslaught of hallucinations, the first of which being a sign of rescue? He wasn’t sure. Either way, all he wanted to do was reach up and pet the cat-dragon familiar, or hug him and not let go, but he couldn’t. His arm felt like it weighed half a ton, just like the rest of his limbs.

So, he sobbed. It was all he could do.

“Douxie!” Archie cried.

Merlin’s apprentice could hear the worry in his voice as he stepped back a few paces, his ears back and his wings to his side. Of course, he’d shifted into his dragon form - he must have been able to track Douxie’s scent like that. But Douxie hated the thought of his familiar being in danger because he’d flown here. He was already suspicious enough as a black cat, since they carried the notion of being bad omens. What if he’d gotten taken down? He wasn’t worth that!

Douxie was too relieved - yes, he chose relief, not terror, because that’s all he could afford - to think about all of that though.

“Douxie, I’ve been looking for you! What’s happened to you?” Archie asked, “Merlin expected you back hours ago!”

The first thing that came to mind, despite everything, was an apology for his absence - an apology he couldn’t even say. He couldn’t even say what happened to him, not like -

A spasm cut off from his speeding, scrambled thoughts - a large one in his left arm (his right was still mostly underneath him) that reached all the way from his fingertips to his shoulderblade, forcing his hand to ball into a fist, his arm to fold so tightly that his fist touched his shoulder, and his shoulder to tighten so much that his shoulder pressed to his ear.

The sound of agony ripped from his throat was the closest to a scream he’d gotten yet.

Archie looked horrified, and Douxie could only imagine what the sight of him was like - black strands loose from his bun strewn over his face, his eyes puffy and tear-ringed, his lips contorted in a pained grimace. He imagined he looked as pitiful and helpless as he felt.

(In fact, he didn’t have to imagine it. He could faintly see his reflection in the lenses of Archie’s glasses, and he was right in what he pictured, save for the addition of smudges and speckles of that powder still on his face, the black splotches of dust contrasting his color-drained skin, pale as death.)

His arm relaxed again after a few agonizing moments, letting his hand fall in front of his face and leaving a throbbing ache down to his bones, and Douxie tried to collect himself. He had to tell Archie what was wrong. He had to try. If Archie knew, he could fix it. He could get Merlin to fix it. Right? Right.

“P-” he started, trying his absolute best to form words despite the constriction in his throat and lungs that barely let him breathe at all, “puh- poi-”

His own wheezing cough cut him off.

“Poison?” Archie asked, getting it right much to the little relief that Douxie could manage. He nodded - at least, as close to the motion as he could accomplish - and tried to hum a “mhm” of affirmation, since trying to talk hadn’t exactly worked. Far from it.

Archie stepped forward and sniffed his face. He immediately recoiled, his big eyes widening, and Douxie was proven wrong for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

“Oh, dear.” His eyes glanced to what must have been a few more clumps and speckles of dust on the ground, “Ohhh, not good. Not good at all.”

No. Archie couldn’t be scared. If Archie was scared for him, then this was so, so much worse than he thought. How could it possibly be worse?

Douxie squeaked out a whimper in fear, and Archie’s attention snapped back to him (as if it could have been anywhere else).

“Douxie, don’t worry.” he said, “You’ll be alright.”

Archie was never a good liar, much to Douxie’s dismay. If Archie was going to hide the truth to soothe him, he at least would’ve liked it to work. His immediately telling Douxie not to worry had the opposite effect of what was intended; it showed him his worry - his terror - was entirely warranted, which was the exact thing he didn’t want to know. Even if all he said was “You’ll be alright.”, the fear that seemed to bristle through his fur was indication enough of the contrary.

Archie’s eyebrows, indicated by the grey patches in the fur above his eyes, upturned as if in dread.

“...But I need to go.”

NO!

If Douxie could have screamed the word and reached out to hold Archie, he would have done it right at that moment, but all he could do was whine like a kicked puppy, his eyebrows raising as his head shook - an unconscious movement, minute despite his desperation.

“Douxie, Douxie, listen.” Archie said, softening his voice, “I can’t carry you back to the castle. I wouldn't be able to fly carrying you anyway, but especially not with your-”

Archie got cut off by another one of Douxie’s spasms - this one made his left leg curl up so tight that his thigh touched his torso, causing the apprentice to nearly involuntarily hit Archie with his knee, which the cat-dragon barely dodged.

“-that." Archie said, "Not with that.”

Douxie saw the sense in that, despite his panic. He did, he did, he did.

But - 

He sobbed again.

-But he didn’t want to be alone.

Sweet heart of Avalon, he didn’t want to be alone. 

The worst of his pain and terror wasn’t from the paralysis, or the aching, or the random twitches, or the burning that came from trying to use his magic, or even the tightness in his throat and lungs that robbed him of speaking or even screaming; it came from being alone in this - from wondering if anyone would come for him, or find his body; it came from knowing that there was nothing he could do but lay there, at the mercy of nature, the poison wracking his body with every beat of his heart, and the determination (or lack thereof) of someone else to find him.

And when he opened his eyes to find Archie there, all of that went away - all of that fear that told him he’d die alone here. He didn’t want it to come back. He would’ve rather the poison take him right now.

“I just need to go back to the castle and bring Merlin here. He’ll know what to do.”

Archie put his paw in Douxie’s limp, open palm. All Douxie wanted to do was hold it, and he so desperately hoped the next twitch would be in his hand so he could.

“I won’t be long. I promise.”

But what if it was too long, even if he hurried?

What if Merlin was too late, even if he hurried?

What if it took too long to convince his master to come here? Would the fact that he’d been poisoned and needed help be enough, or would Merlin refuse because it served Douxie right for his insolence?

(No, no, he wouldn’t do that. Merlin said that mastery over magic was mastery over life, and he had to learn how to live. He couldn’t learn to live if he died here in the woods.)

What if… 

What if this killed him before Archie came back?

...No.

It wasn’t the same this time. Douxie wasn’t lost here, hoping against hope that someone would find him. This was hope - someone knew where he was, and help would come. He could handle a little bit more fear for that hope, he knew.

So, fighting the grating, awful ache in his bones, Douxie closed his hand around Archie’s paw and put on as brave a face he found himself able to muster, nodding as much as he could while causing as little pain to himself as possible.

He didn’t trust much in this - not even his own body to keep fighting the poison - but he trusted Archie, and he trusted his promise.

His familiar gently pulled his paw away before slipping it under the side of Douxie’s head, lifting it a little off the ground. The little apprentice was confused for a moment, until Archie reached behind Douxie’s head with his mouth. He could hear the sounds of the woods stifle as fabric came over his ears, warding off the now-coolness of the woodsy air around his head as Archie pulled the hood of his vest over his head and gingerly laid it back down.

Ah, he got it now - it was a little comfort, a little shelter from the world.

And of course he took it, hoping his eyes conveyed his gratitude.

He kept up his brave front as Archie turned away from him, something Douxie could tell he’d done reluctantly, and flew off. It wasn’t until he couldn’t see his familiar anymore - until the sight of the cat-dragon vanished behind the treetops - that he let it fall and shatter.

He just had to keep waiting. That’s all he had to do - wait and trust Archie to come back with Merlin. He knew that.

But he could still feel new tears come down his face.

---

Douxie wished he could see the sunset from where he lay. It would have been beautiful, he knew.

The spasms subsided a little while after Archie flew back, leaving Douxie limp on the ground - still unable to move without hurting himself or try to use his magic without thrusting himself into agony - with a lingering pins-and-needles sensation in his hands and feet that felt like it was crawling up from his ankles and wrists.

(Honestly, Douxie still wasn’t sure if the spasms had truly subsided for good, or if this was just a rather long interval between them. He hoped it was the former. The spasms never hurt any less as they went on, and he was so, so tired of the pain.)

Archie still hadn’t come back with Merlin yet, obviously, and at this point, it seemed like Douxie was fighting off his doubt more than the poison. At least he knew what the poison was doing to him - he could feel it every waking moment. But Archie… Douxie didn’t know what had happened to him, and he wouldn’t unless he came back.

(No, until he came back. Douxie had to keep that certainty alive in his mind.)

But how was he supposed to know that his familiar hadn’t taken a tumble? That he hadn’t been brought down by some witch hunter’s net? What if Merlin was being stubborn about coming for him? What if he’d been busy in another row with King Arthur?

...Indeed, he would have loved to see the sunset - to at least try to let it distract him from the tornado of worst case scenarios in his mind.

But he couldn’t.

For a bit, he tried distracting himself by thinking about how Merlin might’ve reacted to him being in danger - to hearing that he’d been poisoned. He sort of liked imagining how scared he’d be, for he preferred fear to indifference. The mental image of his master dropping whatever book he’d been flipping through and rushing to follow Archie… it was a comforting one, as strange as it might sound. That fear meant he mattered.

But Douxie soon grew tired even of that. He hoped he might’ve ran into a patch frequented by fireflies. Those would at least come low enough to dip into his line of sight, and they were always so beautiful, like stars visiting earth for a night before going back to the sky…

Douxie grew cold again at some point. Not just cold, but damp. Since it hadn’t started raining, fortunately, he rightly assumed that it was sweat. Perhaps he was finally sweating this out, like a fever, but that was too good, too fortunate to figure. This was another progression of the poison, he was sure. Just like…

Douxie noticed something in his left hand that lay in front of his face, something wrong…

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

His veins were black. 

Hoping, begging, praying to be wrong, he pushed through that dreadful ache in his arm so he could pull it closer, but it only confirmed his suspicions - his dread - his terrors.

The veins in his wrist, in the creases of his knuckles - they weren’t deep blue anymore, just barely visible underneath his skin, but as black as that powder that got blown in his face. Ink could be coursing through them right now, and he’d have been none the wiser.

In that moment, Douxie was proven wrong once again for thinking he couldn’t be more terrified.

He gasped as much as his throat and lungs let him, and he didn’t stop gasping. But then his chest -

No no NO!

-his chest started to seize up.

He fought the growing tightness in his chest with every breath, forcing each one in and out like a wheeze, but it wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t tell if it was from poison or panic, but it wouldn’t go away. He’d even started coughing, which was inevitable, but the black splotch that splattered into his hand terrified him all the more.

This was it. He was going to die here. He was going to succumb to this. He’d never come back to the castle - to Archie, to Morgana, to Merlin - from a trivial herb picking. Archie would come back here, but all he’d find was - was - was -

“HISIRDOUX!”

Douxie burst into tears.

He could recognize the voice of his master - his father - anywhere, but he was so, so scared that it was a hallucination. The fear in his voice already sounded so foreign, coming from the great and powerful Merlin Ambrosius, and if the sound of his voice and his footsteps coming near him came only from his desperate imagination, then he’d - he’d -

A hand gripped his shoulder and turned him onto his back. Finally, he could look up at the sky, aglow with sunset, but his glassy eyes only saw Merlin kneeling down at his side, and Archie flying above him.

The terror in Merlin’s eyes was the exact opposite of comforting, but Douxie didn’t get to see it for long before Merlin conjured a damp cloth and wiped off his face what had to have been the rest of that poisonous powder. He hadn’t realized how flushed he’d been until that moment, when that rag felt so cold against his cheeks.

Merlin finished wiping off Douxie’s face and made the cloth disappear. Douxie missed the coolness on his face. He wanted it back.

“Hisirdoux, say something!” he demanded. But Douxie couldn’t - didn’t Merlin think he would’ve already been screaming his lungs out if he could?

“D-” he choked, “Da-”

He hacked up another throatful of black phlegm, whimpering as the violence of his cough made his torso curl up. Merlin dodged the cough, but put an arm under Douxie’s back before he could fall back.

An apology lay at the back of his throat - one he didn’t know the reason for, even if he could’ve said it.

Merlin brought his other arm behind Douxie’s knees and lifted him like he weighed nothing (and he probably didn’t weigh much to Merlin, being the gangly moppet he was). The edges of the plating of the master wizard’s armor dug against him uncomfortably, but it was the least discomforting thing about this, overshadowed near-completely by the comfort that came just by being held. But he was still scared - if more of that powder was on him, and Merlin touched it by holding him, then -

He stifled a cough, and his leg kicked out unconsciously like a thumping rabbit’s foot. He didn’t realize how badly he’d been tremoring until it was contrasted with the steadiness of Merlin holding him.

Yes… steadiness, safety - two things he’d wanted to cling to more than anything since all this had started. And now, he had them. He had his familiar, and he had his father.

His head, still covered with the hood of his vest, lolled back uncomfortably without any support, but he felt something soft push against the back of it- it was actually Archie, though Douxie couldn’t see it - until the side of his head lay against one of the shoulderpieces of Merlin’s armor, cushioned by the cloth of his hood.

He sighed as much as his tightened chest would allow.

He was so scared.

Douxie was still so, so terrified that Merlin couldn’t save him after all; that he’d die tonight; that he’d never use his magic again; that he’d never get to become a master wizard or get his own staff to wield; that he’d never again get to go back down to the marketplace and talk to that pretty girl who frequented the shops.

(What was her name? Zelda? Zona? Zola? Zo-)

He felt something warm settle on his abdomen - Archie had turned back into a cat and curled up on his tummy, purring as he nestled where Douxie’s legs curled.

At least, despite everything else he feared, he didn’t have to be terrified of being alone anymore.

---

Douxie wasn’t sure if Merlin used a portal, or the relief of being found by his master had finally let him lull out of consciousness for the length of the time it took to be carried back, but the next thing he knew, he was in Merlin’s study. Despite the fluttering of his eyelids, he could recognize the shelves, the desk, and the stained glass window letting in the last light of day.

Home.

He was home.

No matter what happened next, he was home.

“Douxie!” He could hear Morgana’s voice shouting his name in worry, followed immediately by her fast-approaching footsteps.

“Mmh…” Douxie whimpered. It wasn’t clear whether or not the noise was just a pained whine or an attempt to try saying her name - not even to Douxie himself. He couldn’t see her very well, but he could tell when she’d come to them, stepping to the side as Merlin walked forward to his desk.

“Is he alive?” she asked.

“Somehow, yes.” Merlin answered. Douxie hated that “somehow” and the fear it brought, but it was just a little more to add to the onslaught of the past hours. He could just add it to the pile, he supposed.

In the middle of the room, Merlin’s big desk was empty, so the wizard laid him down on the surface, having him lay flat on his back with his hands at his sides, his legs straightened out, and his head facing up. Now, he could fully see Morgana, the sorceress he’d come to see as something of a big sister just as he came to see Merlin as a father, looking down at him. Her face was upside-down from where she stood over him, but he could still see her upturned brows and glistening eyes, and the way she clasped her hands close to her chest so they didn’t even touch him. He hated that look of worry on her face. Seeing Morgana - always fearless, always grasping for more from the world than what others had permitted, always steadfast in her ruthless ambition - look so scared for him… 

...It was worse, if such a thing was possible, than when he saw how scared Merlin was for him, and there was so much he wanted to say, but he was still just focused on trying to breathe as deeply as he could.

Archie got off his abdomen and sat next to his head, gently headbutting his temple before putting a paw on his forehead. It was a little comforting, almost enough to distract Douxie from realizing that Merlin wasn’t at his side anymore.

Almost, though. Not enough.

Douxie tried turning his head to the side, but Archie gently kept it still with his paw.

“He’s just finding a spellbook, Douxie.” he assured, immediately knowing what the apprentice was trying to turn his head for, “He’ll be right back.”

Morgana looked down on the little scene and closed her eyes for a moment, as if to quell her tears, before opening them again.

“You shouldn’t have held him.” she warned, turning her head to wherever Merlin stood now, “You know what that can-”

“I’m well aware.” Merlin interrupted from wherever he still was, “And you know I’ve little concern for that.”

Douxie didn’t understand. There was still so little he understood about whatever was doing this to him, and he didn’t know how to ask about it - he couldn’t.

But apparently, his upturned brows and whimpers of confusion were enough to indicate - at least to Archie - how lost he was.

“Douxie, that powder - it’s called Draining Dust.” Archie explained, “It’s a magic suppressant, and… a poison, as you know by now.”

“Witch hunters would put this in shackles.” Morgana said, finally speaking to him, “To nullify wizards’ and witches’ magic on their way to the gallows. Or the stakes.”

“Trace amounts, yes.” Merlin came back into his view, an open spellbook floating near him with a signature green aura around it, “Pinches of it, cast in the metal. It would suppress the wearer’s magic as long as it was on their body, with a few side effects. Fatigue, headaches, nausea…” he started listing as he flipped through the pages.

Douxie remembered the handful of the stuff that had been thrown in his face. That was far from a few pinches. And those side effects he’d started listing - they sounded tame, menial compared to what was happening to him now.

“But direct contact with raw powder…” Archie started. Douxie knew he was hesitant to finish that sentence, and it wasn’t hard to assume why (but it was terrifying).

“It’s deadly.” Morgana said, “Few wizards have ever survived inhaling or digesting it. More sadistic witchfinders have used that to-”

“Morgana!” Merlin snapped, urging her to leave off. But she didn’t.

“He should know!” she snapped back, “It’s already in his bloodstream, old man. It’s killing him, and he deserves to-”

Douxie started crying again at Morgana’s brutal honesty, as if this all weren’t brutal enough. His eyes squeezed shut as tears streamed down his temples, but when he opened them again, it was darker, like he was looking through a veil. The sight made him want to cry even harder.

It was in his tears.

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon, the poison was in his tears.

It made sense now, why Morgana was so scared to touch him. His own body fluids - his blood, his tears, probably his sweat soon enough - were turning poisonous from this. The only reason Archie was still touching him was probably because he wasn’t a wizard, but a familiar, and this wouldn’t affect him so badly.

(It actually very well could have affected Archie for the worse, but watching Douxie endure this without any comfort would have been worse than any poison.)

“It’s not killing him.” Merlin denied as if he was trying to convince both Morgana and himself, “His death is not certain. If it were, I would have already placed a sleeping spell on him by now.”

Douxie clung to that little hope and tried to watch Merlin scan for the spell he’d been looking for. Merlin had a way to fix this, of course he did; it’s as he said - he would have already put Douxie to sleep to grant him some peace if he didn’t.

Douxie watched his master’s page flipping stall as his eyes scanned over one particular page. His face fell - a minute, near-unnoticeable change in expression, but one that made Douxie’s pounding heart sink.

“Merlin?” Archie asked, “Have you found something?”

Merlin said nothing at first, only taking his place by stepping right to the table’s edge, coming right to Douxie’s side.

“I’ve found a spell to expel the poison and it’s remnants,” he explained, still only scanning the book, “But purging it from his body when it’s progressed this far will be…”

His eyes fell on Douxie’s.

“...quite excruciating.”

But Douxie was already so, so tired.

Not physically - the combined force of the poison and his own adrenaline warded off any chance of fatigue - but in his heart. He was so tired of being scared. Of being in so much pain. He didn’t want to do it - he didn’t think he could…

...But he remembered something Merlin said to him before.

“If there is a universal truth in this world, it is that struggle is the flame which forges one’s soul into steel.”

Well, if there was something tougher than steel, that’s what his soul would become.

Because wizards were strong. Brave. Unrelenting to pain or fear. That’s how Merlin was, that’s how Morgana was, and that’s how he would be.

He put on a brave face - as brave as he could possibly muster in the face of what he’d endure - and nodded. He could do this. He had to do this.

And he would.

The green aura around the spellbook faded as Merlin set it down. Archie lifted his paw from Douxie’s head and stepped back a few paces.

“Morgana, keep him still.” Merlin said, “His thrashing may cause him to injure himself.”

Morgana nodded and brought her hands up, an unsaid apology in her eyes. Seconds later, Douxie felt warm, gentle heat around his wrists and ankles. It didn’t hurt, but it was unrelenting. He didn’t test the bonds, lacking the strength or any actual will to do so. Still under a sort of paralysis, he wasn’t scared of being pinned down, for he knew it was just a precaution; he was just scared of how bad the pain would be in order for restraining him like this to be necessary.

The precaution was far from unwarranted, he came to realize in the coming moments.

Merlin hovered one hand over Douxie’s chest and the other over his abdomen. Douxie watched him say some incantation, but he didn’t catch the words. He was too busy bracing himself for the pain as he saw the green aura of his master’s magic out of the corner of his eye, glowing above his torso.

Before Merlin even got to take a breath after the incantation, the pain started.

And no amount of bracing could have prepared Douxie enough.

The sudden agony in his torso ripped the breath from his lungs. He thought - hoped it would start small and get worse and worse, like a simmer that got hotter and hotter, but instead it was like a pot of scalding water got poured over his chest. No, even that would have hurt less. This… it started at the surface, but it bled deeper and deeper under his skin, and then -

Oh, sweet heart of Avalon.

-then it started to spread.

In moments, as if searing agony itself coursed through his veins, there was nowhere on his body that didn’t burn, not even his fingertips or the tip of his pinky toes. If he could feel it, it hurt, and it hurt unlike anything he’d ever felt before.

As the agony overrode his paralysis, he thrashed against Morgana’s magic that kept his wrists and ankles in place, arching his back one moment and curling forward the next.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to try to open his eyes. It hurt to keep them squeezed shut. It hurt to try to hear the voices of those around him - Morgana trying to tell him to be strong, Archie trying to soothe him, Merlin repeating the incantation. It hurt even to think - the pain, blinding and deafening, flooded out all other thoughts.

For a moment, like a fire burning so hot it feels cold for a fleeting beat, he stopped feeling the searing, searing agony.

But the moment was too, too fleeting before it wracked him again.

Finally, finally, he screamed.

It was a raw, shrill, agonized thing. He felt it come up from the base of his throat, and when Douxie realized, through his hysteria, that he was actually screaming, not wheezing or whimpering or anything he’d had to settle for tonight, he couldn’t stop. He screamed for all the torture of the day, all the fear of being alone, all the panic and terror and despair that he couldn’t let out in the woods, tense and spasming and paralyzed. 

All the screams that couldn’t come out before, when his throat was so tight that it barely let him breathe, came out right now, bursting at the seams of his pain-delirious mind.

He didn’t stop screaming until he finally felt Merlin’s magic let off.

Even then, his screams settled only into groans and wails until the burning across his body finally cooled; until the pain weakened from a searing sensation all over him, like the most brazen of fires, to a low ache, like the embers of a dying camp flame.

Once he fully stilled, which took a few more moments, Morgana’s magic came off his wrists and ankles.

Finally, he came back to his senses and see Merlin, Morgana, and Archie still around him. Archie looked relieved and nuzzled the side of Douxie’s head. Morgana smiled a shaky, hesitant smile - still so foreign to see from her.

And Merlin…

Well, he seemed as difficult to read as usual, but at least he no longer had the expression on his face of a man watching his apprentice die. Traces of relief lay there, and Douxie gladly took them.

So… was it over?

Douxie groaned and lifted his arm. It didn’t hurt to do anymore - well, it did, but more like a soreness left in the wake of heavy lifting, a residue of what happened than a symptom of it. He brought it up to his face so he could see his wrist.

His veins were blue again.

Sighing, he let his hand fall on his face and wiped away some tears - lifting it to see they were purely clear, like before - before letting it slide off his cheek and fall limp next to his head.

“Master…” his voice was so little, so hoarse, “‘s it gone?”

“Every bit, Hisirdoux.” Merlin said, putting his hand on Douxie’s shoulder, “It's over.”

He sounded weary. Douxie hoped that spell didn't take too much from him.

“Mm… my magic… 's it gone too?”

Merlin’s eyes said he wasn’t sure himself.

Douxie sought to answer the question on his own and willed forth his magic. He felt his fingertips thrum with the life of his sorcery. Lifting his hand again, he saw little specks of light, blue and true. It didn’t burn anymore, but it felt warm and gentle, like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. Exactly as it always felt.

He sighed. Not shaky, not fighting to keep his breathing level - a tired, relieved sigh. Despite how sore even the muscles in his face felt, he smiled a little smile.

“Thank you…” he said, “If you all hadn’t… I’d be-”

Merlin moved his hand from Douxie’s shoulder to his forehead.

“Don’t pay that scenario any mind, Hisirdoux.” Merlin urged, “You’ve survived, and although you and your magic have been weakened, both will fully recover.”

Douxie’s little smile fell.

“Wha… what about the poison? It couldn’t just be gone.”

“That it can.” Merlin assured, taking his hand off Douxie’s head, “As brutal as it is to the wizard affected, an unaffected wizard with strong magic can eradicate it from their body and return it to it’s untarnished condition.”

...Well, that was that, and Douxie wouldn’t question it. Besides, he remembered something.

“Mmmy bracelet… I lost it. That - they took it off. It’s in a bush out there.”

“I can see that. That’s alright.” Merlin said, “It can be retrieved.”

“And… and I'm sorry.” He said to Merlin’s subtle but obvious surprise, indicated by a little raise in his eyebrows.

“What for?”

“I… the herbs.” he answered, “I couldn’t bring them back. They got stolen.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin said, “They aren’t a rarity, you know.”

...Douxie sniffled.

“That… they only snatched those plants so I’d follow them deeper into the woods. So I’d get lost. So they could throw that dust in my face and - and leave me there, knowing I’d gone further into the forest than… than anyone would’ve looked, and I wouldn’t be found.” 

“But you were found, Douxie.” Archie said, “They weren’t counting on you having a dragon that could track scents for a familiar.”

Douxie’s voice started to break.

“I should have left it alone - I knew I should have left it alone. There was more right there, I should’ve-”

“Hisirdoux, cease this.” Merlin said in a tone that left no room for insistence, “You must grant yourself some relief in you and your magic��s survival. I won’t have you fret over something as menial as a handful of herbs, so-”

“But Master-”

“-Don’t “But Master” me.”

Douxie sighed. That statement didn’t leave any room for argument. It never did.

Finally, a little normalcy tonight.

Morgana put her hands to the sides of Douxie’s head. After she’d been so scared to touch him this whole time, the feeling of her fingers against his temples, brushing his hair away from his face, was a final, true assurance that the poison had been well and truly purged.

“Sleep, Little Douxie.” she soothed, “I promise you’ll wake.”

He couldn’t tell if she cast a sleep spell in that moment, or if this was from his own fatigue, but he obeyed without hesitance as he was finally lulled away from the realm of the conscious and fell into slumber.

---

Merlin looked down at the boy lying asleep on his desk, the color slowly trickling back into his face as his chest rose and fell in deep, steady breaths. 

“He’s a brave little moppet.” Morgana said as she kept her fingers against the sides of his head, her voice hushed despite the fact that the boy’s exhaustion had lulled him into a deep slumber, and he’d sleep like a stone until morning no matter what.

“...No, he’s not.” Merlin denied, “Not for this.”

Morgana snapped her head up.

“He’s just gone through more torment from that powder in one day than either of us have in all our lives!” Morgana she contested, “Not even you have endured effects that brutal from Draining Dust.”

“To be brave requires a choice - being faced with the ultimatum to either run and give up, or face your fight.” Merlin said, too proverbial and righteous-sounding as he stood over Douxie, “A choice was the exact thing he didn’t have in this. Perhaps if he’d been withholding something from that assailant, even with the threat of this, then it might be different. But as it is, even if he’d wanted to succumb to this before Archie had found him, his adrenaline hadn’t let him.”

“Maybe so,” Archie started, “but when I found him there in the forest, and I told him I’d have to come back with help, he was terrified of being left alone again. I could tell. But he put on as brave a face he could have. He chose that for himself, at least.”

“He did the same thing moments ago, when you told him how much that spell would hurt.” Morgana added, “He may not have had a choice in enduring this, but he did choose to steel his nerves when faced with every reason not to, and there’s bravery in that, old man.” She crossed her arms. “Even you have to admit that.”

Merlin almost found it endearing, seeing them both try to defend his apprentice’s honor when they felt it threatened, and maybe he could’ve seen the bravery they saw, if he’d been looking at anyone else.

But as he looked down at Hisirdoux… that’s all he saw. Hisirdoux. His apprentice. His son. His gangly little moppet who tended to cause more messes than he cleaned up, but smiled like the embodiment of joy itself.

If daylight decided to make itself corporeal and walk among humans for a while, Merlin wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if it took the form of Hisirdoux Casperan.

So, the sorcerer didn’t see bravery when he found Hisirdoux writhing and gasping on the ground in those woods, he didn’t feel bravery when the boy trembled in his arms, and he most certainly didn’t hear bravery when the boy wailed and screamed his lungs out as that poison was taken out of him, black tears streaming down his face until they became clear again.

No, if Douxie had been brave, pride in that laid nowhere in Merlin’s mind. 

After all, when fear for his son’s life flooded his mind, and hatred for whoever did this to him flooded out that fear, where, pray tell, could pride reside?

Morgana kept looking down at Douxie as he slept.

“How could you risk that?” she asked Merlin.

“Risk what, Morgana?” he asked, “Be specific.”

She snapped her head back up.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Morgana almost shouted, stifling her volume so the sleeping moppet wouldn’t hear, ““Eradicate” my foot, old man. I know the spell you used. You didn’t use a spell of eradication, you used a spell of transference!”

Arhcie had been staring down at his own sleeping familiar, but he snapped up when he heard that word, “transference”. First he looked to Morgana, then to Merlin.

“You told him it got destroyed, but you just - all you did was soak it up like a sponge!”

“Merlin… is that true?” Archie asked, obviously afraid that after all of this, Douxie would wake up without his mentor - his father - because he’d taken the poison for him. The little apprentice left without a master would never stop blaming himself, no matter how hard Morgana and Archie tried to tell him it wasn’t his fault.

Merlin sighed, an affirmation without words or nods.

“I spent the years since it’s conception,” he started, “building an immunity to the dust and its properties. It was too big a risk, potentially having a weakness to something so daunting - something I’d seen subdue and poison countless wizards. Too high a risk - a threat to the greater good.”

“So… the poison’s not having any affect on you?” Archie asked, stepping around Douxie to approach Merlin, “It’s not… he couldn’t have gone through all of this just to lose you.”

“And he won’t.” Merlin assured in confidence, “Much more than a handful of that powder would have had to be thrown at him to have any severe affect on me. No, this won’t need more than a night of rest to fix. Besides, what’s the good in spending all that time building up an immunity to Draining Dust if not to make use of it? A waste of time and tolerance built.”

“You couldn’t have known it wouldn’t...” Morgana said, “You couldn’t have possibly known you’d survive taking all of it like that!”

“I didn’t.” Merlin snapped.

Morgana’s eyes widened, as if everything about what the boy meant to him fell into place.

Because he hadn’t worried about his survival - the matter didn’t even cross his mind, not when he could still hear Douxie whimpering in pain with each page of that spellbook he skimmed. No, he only concerned himself with the likelihood that it would save the boy, his only worry being about how badly it would hurt Douxie when he’d already had to go through so much senseless, ludicrous torture.

Merlin always prioritized the “greater good”, some vast, staggering, intangible concept that encapsulated so much - the lives of thousands, the wellbeing of millions, the good of humanity.

But when he found his son writhing, hurting, suffocating, dying, he found he couldn’t spare any more regard to the “greater good” in that moment than he would a layer of dust on one of his books. If saving Hisirdoux’s life meant casting aside the greater good, then there was no question about it - he’d let the greater good rot.

It didn’t matter to him if his magic would’ve been permanently diminished by extracting the poison, or even if it killed him. Cast the greater good aside - the greatest good was the life in Hisirdoux’s eyes, and by all the heavens, he’d protect it.

And thankfully, he did just that tonight, at the cost of neither his life, his health, or his own magic. And that was the greatest good he could have asked for.

With another sigh, relieved that Morgana chose not to pry, Merlin looked down at the boy, still sound asleep, laid out on his desk. He put one arm under Douxie’s back and the other behind his knees, picking him up just like he did when he found him in those woods.

But this time, instead of trembling in his hold, Douxie made a little noise and unconsciously put his arm over Merlin’s shoulder, snuggling closer, if it were possible, to the master wizard.

Yes. he thought. There’s no greater good than this.

Morgana put her hands over her mouth and looked at the two of them as if the sight was something adorable, and Merlin huffed. Archie took his same spot curled up on Douxie’s abdomen.

“I’m taking him to his room.” he said, hushing his voice even though he knew the moppet wouldn’t wake, “And I’ll let him sleep in tomorrow morning. He needs to rest.”

The sun had set sometime during the painstaking ordeal, but torchlight along the walls of the castle made it easy to take his sleeping apprentice back to his room even once night has fallen. After using a simple spell to swing the door open while his arms were in use carrying the boy, Merlin walked in and used another little spell. The green aura of his magic glowed around the blanket on Douxie’s bed as he folded part of it over using his magic, providing room to lay Douxie down on his bed with head nestled right in his pillow’s usual dent. Once Archie stepped out of the way, Merlin reached over and laid the blanket back over him.

Douxie stirred a little, but only to turn from his back onto his side, his back to the wall and his front facing Merlin. Once the boy settled again, Merlin tentatively reached behind his head and let his bun loose so it wouldn’t get tangled if he moved around too much in his sleep. He doubted it would, considering the exhaustion and soreness in his muscles would probably enticement enough to stay still, even unconscious, but the gesture couldn’t hurt.

Archie crawled right underneath one of Douxie’s arms and nestled against his chest, and the moppet unconsciously held the bespectacled cat a little tighter.

And that was Merlin’s unspoken cue to leave Hisirdoux to rest for the night, so that’s what he did. He needed rest too, after all - his built-up immunity may have saved his life, but the poison, like everything else in the onslaught of the evening, left him weary.

Tomorrow, a search would begin.

Tomorrow, Merlin would find out who was behind this.

Tomorrow, the greatest and most powerful wizard in Camelot would not relent until he found the monster, human or trollish, who almost killed his son.

But tonight, Hisirdoux lay curled up in his bed, sound asleep as he kept his familiar close. Tonight, his life was saved.

And tonight, that was enough.

[witchmd13]

Your post got me thinking, and I was wondering what you think would’ve happened, long-term, had Arthur killed Uther? Would the kingdom follow a king who killed his father, how would Arthur treat magic knowing the deal took Ygraine but Uther knowingly entered a deal that was “a life for a life” to have Arthur, how would Arthur handle his ascension resulting from patricide, etc.? I’ve always wondered about the long-term consequences of that episode and all AUs resulting? Arthur hates magic for a good chunk of the show, in large part because he never learns the real reason behind the Purge (and people keep trying to kill him, but they’ve also been hunted for years because of Uther’s bad decisions, so 🤷‍♀️), but how would the kingdom and the council respond to Arthur committing regicide. There’s a bucket load of AUs that can happen from this episode alone, and we were ROBBED. I agree that Merlin should’ve told Arthur the truth, because it’s not Merlin’s secret to keep and he should maybe focus on trying to reverse the laws on magic since it’s actively killing his people and putting him in danger, along with the lives of the people keeping his secret, and I always enter a rabbit hole when thinking this episode, so I wanted to know your thoughts on what would have happened had Merlin not told Arthur Morgause was lying.

oooh this is such a good ask. thank you for the ideas! I'm gonna put this in bullet points so I wouldn't lose my thoughts.

Arthur wouldn't have been able to forgive himself. I think he'd try to live with it for a while, telling himself over and over that he did the right thing by his people and his mother, but eventually the guilt would be too much and his heart wouldn't be able to take it.

this can only lead will lead to 2 possibilities, imo, either he would become totally closed off, not allowing anyone in, or he'd turn the whole thing off and turn darker, a slightly more noble version of uther. I would go with the later if I'm writing an au because it's more interesting (and would totally crush my heart into ashes

the people would definitely follow a king who killed his father. especially if the incident got contained early on. history is full of stories like that. what i think would be a problem however are uther's men and council. someone would definitely try to use it to their advantage to cause an uprising or something. that would be such a good plot for an au with this premise. it would make things even darker for arthur, that he caused the kingdom to fall apart and ushered it into a civil war. it would at least triple his guilt.

i love your point about arthur's conflicted view on magic after he would kill uther. i think killing uther would make arther just cast everything he's ever told him about magic aside. after all, from what he said, arthur truly believed uther was just trying to "ease his guilt" by killing all the magical folk. i think with a little help from merlin and morgaus (who'd most likely become an ally in this scenario) he'd come to understand how magic is just a tool.

side note, i would kill for an au with merlin having to coexist in camelot with morgaus. he'd absolutely hate her influence on arthur, which let's be real, would be huge since she triggered this whole sequence of events and how lost arthur would be after it. she'd definitely try to create problems between him and arthur, seeing merlin's influence on arthur is clear to a blind man. the clashes would be epic.

merlin loved arthur too much. he can't think properly when it comes to him. he's so terrified of not only losing him, but causing him the tinniest amount of pain, that he makes such dumb choices in an attempt to protect him, even on his own and his people's expense. it's just who merlin is, he loved arthur and camelot and their friends. if you take that away, he wouldn't be merlin anymore, that's exactly why it's a tragedy, because everything that's happened was inevitable.

[pendragonsclotpole]

Jumping on here to add that much of Arthur’s characterization in this series is built on the amount of times he has been betrayed, whether intentionally or unintentionally, by the people around him. Sure there’s Agravaine and Morgana, but Arthur’s first breach of trust was committed by his own father.

Uther’s A+ parenting and his steadfast adherence to being a king first and father second is in itself the first betrayal Arthur suffered. Not only is his own father an emotional wall of hatred and self-hatred, but based on what we know of Arthur pre-series, a younger Prince Arthur took some of that behavior and internalized it.

The first few episodes are the destruction of the just King and great (not good) man Arthur knew. I’ve always been of the opinion that for Arthur it was also a matter of: If Uther can be so cruel, vindictive, and tyrannical, what can that mean for magic? This breach of trust, destruction of childhood ideals—we all go through it with our parents, but Arthur experiences it in way that are so much worse because of the position of power his father holds. We watch as Arthur’s own father hurts his friends and ruins his son’s life. If anyone else did this, Arthur would seek out justice, but this is his father—the same man who taught Arthur these ideals. Uther’s death leaves Arthur with so many questions.

And then we have the Problem of Morgana. As far as I know, barring a few scenes in Season 1, Morgana was a sister/the closest thing Arthur had to a best friend before Merlin. Morgana was the picture perfect princess, the kind heart, the bleeding soul, the person with the upright morals who did not understand the hard choices a ruler had to make for the good of the kingdom. Morgana believed in fairness and justice, but without the cruelty. She was unequivocally a good person.

Morgana switching sides for reasons that are not even fully explained to Arthur given the Merlin factor is the second betrayal. There was a post on here I saw earlier about the deleted Merlin scenes and Morgana’s potential fleshed out characterization being more sympathetic, and their elimination reducing her to a cartoonish villain. I agree, but I also think the lack of those scenes makes Morgana into the cartoonish villain that Arthur needed her to become. If Morgana is that evil, then Arthur does not have to confront the other possibility: that he betrayed her, that he drove her to it, that he failed her, that his father was to blame, that magic has nothing to do with it, and that if it were anyone else, he might even be sympathetic toward her. But it also leaves him without closure.

Only one person understands the truth: Merlin. Throughout all of these years, throughout wars and poisonings and assassinations, only one person has maintained a steadfast and undying faith in Arthur. Merlin bites his tongue and becomes the one person Arthur can unequivocally trust. If Uther is a horrible man, if Morgana is evil, then Merlin can be the one person Arthur has in his corner and whose faith is Arthur’s faith.

The magic reveal has always been about Merlin lying to Arthur as opposed to having magic because Arthur has known for years that magic is not what he has been told it was all his life. Arthur has been able to bury that part of himself because of the people he trusts and who trust him. Merlin having magic, Merlin having fought by his side for years, that destroys the illusion.

Magic is just a metaphor for Arthur’s previous doubts in everything he has been taught and in himself. The biggest irony here is that Merlin is Magic. Arthur’s faith in himself was dependent on Magic itself. Arthur could never truly hate magic because he could never truly hate Merlin, but he could and did hate Merlin lying to him. Either it meant everything Arthur believed in was wrong, or magic, like Merlin, Morgana, and Uther, would always be a lie. Arthur asking Merlin to hold him was for me, Arthur understanding. Merlin may have lied to him, but Merlin would always be someone he could trust. The fanfiction that characterizes Arthur as anti-magic ignore the amount of genuine love Arthur has for Merlin. Sure, Arthur can react horribly to the reveal, but to make him behave like a monster toward magic just ruins who we know Arthur to be: a deeply compassionate but lost man trying to do the right thing by the people he loves. This entire series should just be renamed The Adventures of Miscommunication.

I have discovered that I don't like when fanfics have Arthur react badly to a magic reveal and then continue to have him be insensitive/rude/mean/discriminatory towards Merlin afterwards.

Of course, Arthur canonically reacts negatively to Merlin's magic reveal, but he comes around fairly quickly and the real issue was the deception rather than the magic.

Sometimes I'll read a fic and Arthur will be incredibly stubborn about magic being bad to the point where it's out of character. He had lost his mother to magic, but he still wanted to see the good in it when Uther was dying. Even after Uther died, he wanted to see the good in magic to save Mordred. He's always tried to consider the alternative.

Season 2, Episode 08 - "The Sins of the Father" "What if my father's attitude towards magic is wrong? Perhaps it's not as simple as he would have us believe. Surely not everyone who practices magic can be evil."

Season 5, Episode 05- "The Disir" "Perhaps my father was wrong, perhaps the old ways aren't as evil as we thought."

If it was the magic that bothered him in canon, he would've reacted far different. For example:

Arthur just watched Merlin (possibly) kill those two men. He watched his best friend and the person he trusted most use magic for violence; this is what magic is falsely associated with, but Merlin potentially confirms it in front of Arthur.

If the problem was the magic, he probably would've said something more along the lines of Merlin being a bad person or a monster. Instead he's far more focused on the fact that Merlin lied to him.

I don't mind if characters in fanfics are out of character sometimes, but I guess in this case, since it leads to Arthur being horrible to Merlin, it bothers me. It's an added reason to make him be cruel to him when there's plenty of reason there for a negative reaction already.

Maybe I'm just a snob or overly sensitive, but I guess an inaccurate portrayal of Arthur in magic reveal situations gets under my skin for some reason.

[weakforarwen]

A Remedy to Cute All Ills

This episode isn’t particularly exciting, but some important things happen.

Gaius’s past comes back to bite him in the ass and it’s honestly not undeserved. I can understand why Gaius chose to save himself and pledge his loyalty to Uther, but I can’t understand why he is genuinely loyal to Uther, when the King turned his back on him any time a stranger showed up and accused him of something. The fact that Gaius initially refused to choose between saving Uther or Melin is truly baffling. All the good characters are loyal to Uther and would rather save him than see him dead, even if he’s a cold-blooded killer. It’s as if the writers believed loyalty to the King was a pre-requisite for being good. Giving your life up for a tyrant is rarely a good thing. 

Truly, any episode in which saving the day means saving Uther is questionable at best. Edwin may have been “evil”, but killing Uther wasn’t such a bad idea. And we don’t even know if he was evil. He was manipulative and dangerous, but he only tried to kill the men who murdered his parents. When Arthur wanted to do the same, he wan’t evil, but Edwin is, of course, because he’s a sorcerer who does evil magic. The only people he really hurt had in coming, but sorcerers can’t be vengeful or angry, or wield their magic like others would a sword, without being branded as evil. And if they’re evil, then they’re worse than Uther.

Gaius’s cautiousness has always been cowardly and harmful. Merlin wasn’t allowed to use magic on Morgana because it was dangerous, but he could use it on the King, because his life was more valuable. Was it? Gaius was never willing to risk anything for Morgana, yet everything for the King. For that. Morgana went evil and the King betrayed him a handful of times. 

Arthur and Merlin’s concern for Morgana was touching. In the first season, Arthur does very little until episode 10 or so, so there’s nothing else to say about him in this episode, but he was nice to Merlin too, which was... nice. Arthur only became an ass in season 2, for some reason.

Poor Merlin was brainwashed into thinking he shouldn’t use his magic at all, that it was dangerous to use it to treat people. Why? But he can use it on Arthur? Gaius’s influence in dangerous. 

It’s odd that this episode marked the first and only time Gaius went to Kilgharrah for advice, but Kilgharrah was no friend of his, with good reason. He was told he either saved Merlin or the King, and after much deliberation he chose Merlin, which meant leaving Camelot. Poor Merlin... Gwen saw Gaius leave and told him he had a choice: to either stay and fight Edwin or walk away. It’s hard to understand how leaving Camelot would fix anything. Even if Merlin was saved, Edwin was dangerous and Merlin would be alone. But I don’t understand Edwin’s big plan to become King after killing Uther. Does he not understand how the monarchy works? He was hardly powerful enough to take Camelot by force.

Back to Gwen, whenever someone’s rude to Gwen, you know they’re evil. Edwin, Vivian, Morgana. Gwen knew Edwin had questionable intentions but she didn’t share what she’d seen with anyone. I know she’s only a servant but she should’ve tried to warn someone. It was nice to see her though. Just hearing her voice makes me happy. Her voice is so soothing. She’s definitely the moral compass of the show, always encouraging the characters to do the right thing and, above all, to be brave. 

I just remembered that Uther let a stranger with a “remedy to cure all ills” alone with Morgana. What idiot does that?

I don’t have anything of interest to say, really. It’s a mediocre yet mildly infuriating episode in which magic=evil and Uther is saved by those who wish to bring magic back to Camelot. Magic is only good if you don’t use it for anything, it seems.