#but admitting to himself that merlin is a sorcerer?

[wispeth]

(doppelganger Merlin au. Arthur is looking at two Merlin's, who both have all of Merlin's memories, except the imposter doesn't have magic. which is perfect, because the real Merlin lied so flawlessly to Arthur that imposter Merlin would have a real chance to take over Merlin's life. oh and, uh, Merlin was drugged w a truth serum. so he can't lie about the magic if it comes up. The imposter is able to pretend to be Merlin better than Merlin can bc ofc the magic comes up.)

Arthur: What's the first thing you ever said to me?

Imposter Merlin, confidently: Hey, that's enough. You've had your fun my friend.

Real Merlin, dazed, looking over at the imposter in horror as he realizes that the imposter has all of his memories, and that the imposter is actually capable of lying rn unlike himself, which means Real Merlin can't even keep up his own facade, but the imposter can: (says exactly the same thing in perfect unison with the imposter, but looks a lot more lost and shaken about it)

Arthur, narrowing his eyes at them both: What is your favorite tunic to dress me in?

Imposter Merlin: The red one. (It was a fair enough assumption. It was the one that Merlin picked out for Arthur to wear more than any of the others.)

Real Merlin, unable to believe he's about to admit this, but he has truth potion in his system: Your nightshirt, when you decide to wear it... It is--you look the happiest, in that one. (gay sweatdrop)

Arthur, kind of floored by the vulnerability: (was honestly expecting Merlin to say the red one, but now he wasn't so sure because that also sounded like something girlish that Melrin might say) Alright... How many times have you saved my life?

Imposter Merlin, gleeful on the inside because he finally has a chance to play Merlin's part while Merlin can't even maintain his own web of lies because of the truth potion: (to this imposter's credit, he is very good at pretending to be merlin. he starts mumbling to himself and counting on his fingers, just as Arthur thought Merlin might have done.) Let's see, there was the dagger, the poison, the... (proceededs to ramble off most every single one that Arthur himself is aware of) ... so that's about, a dozen? I'd say?

also Imposter Merlin: (places his hands on his hips in Merlin's sassy way) I'm starting to think you owe me a day off.

Real Merlin, voice shaky, because they are getting nearer and nearer to the topic of magic: Twice a fortnite for as long as I've lived in Camelot... That's got to be in the hundreds by now.

Arthur, suddenly remembering all the creatures of the week that suddenly disappeared before they became a problem. He knew of about one every month or two, but he started reconsidering if his guardian angel had been taking care of threats that he perhaps DIDN'T know about: Erm... (still can't tell who the real Merlin is, because one of them is giving all the answers he's looking for and is acting exactly like he would expect Merlin to, but the other Merlin is being so damn earnest right now, as Merlin was wont to do in times of crisis) What is--what's an honest truth that you've told me that I have mistaken for a lie?

Imposter Merlin, knowing that he's being quizzed on the memories of their shared history, without missing a beat: Valiant's shield. It was enchanted with those snakes. You got into a world of trouble for confronting him about it in front of the entire court. (aka exactly the answer that Arthur was expecting from the real Merlin)

Real Merlin, with a knot in his throat and tears in his eyes because he knows he's doomed: (the first instance that came to mind was that time he saved Gwen's father from sickness using magic and Gwen got thrown in the dungeons for being an alleged sorceress--and of course that was his first thought, he is very very paranoid about the magic so it's all he's thinking about--he has to say the first one for the sake thought for the sake of honesty, even though it's damning) Gwen's not the s-sorcerer... I am. (is also making exactly the same face that he was making the day that he told Arthur about Valiant's shield, the face where he is pleading for Arthur to believe him. The imposter only has access to Merlin's memories through Merlin's eyes, so the imposter wasn't able to see what Merlin's face did that day, so he wouldn't have known)

Arthur, now even more unsure, just gapes for a moment because how fucking stupid does someone have to be to confess to sorcery in Camelot? Twice?! And it was worse yet that he still couldn't tell for sure which Merlin was the real Merlin because he'd never had to combine the image of Merlin with magic before and gods damn it all he needed a moment to process: (decided to start asking Merlin questions about himself instead of quizzing him on information that Arthur already knows) Who was your first love? (fully expecting to hear Gwen's name, although, Merlin was quite flamboyant....)

Imposter Merlin: It was Will... (blushes a little, looking flustered and matter of factly at the same time, in that awkward way that mimics merlin perfectly) You met him, in Ealdor.

Real Merlin, sneering at the imposter in the way that he did Cedric when he was bitter about replaced by a possessed man in the Cornelius Sigan incident (a/n: even though the episode I mention in this line is a totally different one. I think I mix referenced a lot of episodes in this ramble actually): H-her name was Freya. You killed her.

Arthur, alarmed: Killed her? Wh--Merlin--not Merlin--Merlin? (stammers on how to address this Merlin, tosses his hands up after 0.5 seconds) I do not recall killing any village girls in Ealdor..!

Real Merlin, shaking his head: She was the bastet. It wasn't her fault, she was cursed by a sorceress to become a bastet at night. It wasn't your fault either, you did what you had to; I don't blame you for what happened.

Arthur, suddenly remembering that night, remembering how Merlin was reaching for the dangerous feline beast as if it were only a kitten, as if Merlin was going to pet it, or shield it from Arthur, or any other number of things that also seem so very Merlin. Arthur hadn't even considered it before, but now? Looking back? Merlin certainly had been remarkably upset in the passing days after that: (more confused than ever) Wh... Where did -- where were you, yesterday? (Gaius already told Arthur that Merlin was at the tavern)

Imposter Merlin: At the Rising Sun. Gwaine took me out for a round of drinks. Something about a lucky charm?

Arthur, nodding along: (it was true that Arthur has heard Lancelot and a few other knights call Merlin a lucky charm) Hm... (turns to look at the other Merlin)

Real Merlin, with a wobbling lip: (laughs weakly, rolling his teary eyes a bit) I told him to stop using that excuse... (refocuses) I was crawling out of the mirror, if you must know. I TOLD you I had a funny feeling about it. (motions to the imposter) (he has tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, and his voice sounds exactly the same as it did that one time when he said to Arthur 'you're certainly not' after Arthur told him that no man was worth his tears)

Arthur, now watching Real Merlin more closely than Imposter Merlin, searching: Who was your favorite guest to mock at the feasts and whatnot?

Imposter Merlin: (kind of stumped bc he wasn't expecting a question like this)

Real Merlin, who is actually able to answer first after some thought: ..... (snorts) Does-- (snorts again) Would the Lady Catrina count as a guest, d'you think? Or should I--no--I'll say it was the Lady Vivian. You get this, LOOK on your face every time she sits near you at the banquet table when she comes 'round.

Arthur, jaw dropped in mock offense: Because she is rather touchy! We've been over this..! (doesn't even realized that he just responded to Real Merlin as if he were for sure the real Merlin, and momentarily forgot that there were two convincing Merlins present)

Imposter Merlin: Are you mad? Arthur, the fake me said it himself that he crawled out of the mirror and practices sorcerery..! (looks so earnest, so genuine, but it's just... not quite how Merlin would say it)

Arthur: (narrows his eyes at the imposter with slight suspicion)

Imposter Merlin: (gives Arthur a flat look, exactly like the real Merlin would do when Arthur says something stupid) Arthur, I am not a sorcerer. You would know. (a/n: last episode style)

Arthur, who had never once suspected magic, but did always know that Merlin had been keeping a secret from him (he'd always assumed it was the alcoholism, but now....): You'd think so, wouldn't you.... (glances at the real Merlin, looking a little hurt)

Real Merlin, not denying the magic at all: I was born with it. I use it for you, Arthur.

Imposter Merlin: You can't honestly--

Arthur, looking deep into Real Merlin's eyes: Swear to me, right now, that you are telling me the truth. Prove it to me.

Real Merlin: (grabs the hidden dagger out of the imposters hands, who had apparently been gearing up to attack Arthur, which is confusing enough all on its own because it made it difficult to tell which one of them was truly intent on attacking Arthur with it, and then charges Arthur)

Arthur, who normally has keen warrior reflexes but not when his enemies wear Merlin's face: (freezes up, and then watches in shock as the dagger clashes against the thin air about an inch in front of Arthur's chest, cast aside by some glowing shield that fades after a second)

Real Merlin: Why do you think it takes me three hours to polish your armor? Do you have any idea how long it takes to enchant the space between every link of chainmail? (drops the dagger at Arthur's feet so he knows it was just a demonstration and not a genuine attack, similar to the way that Arthur always aims just to the left of Merlin when he's throwing blunt objects such as goblets because he never wishes any actual harm on Merlin)

Arthur, blinking dazedly: (can't help but think of that one time that Merlin spontaneously became talented at juggling. it's such a strange thing to remember, and completely unrelated to the current happenings, but Merlin's smile was small and smug just like it had been that day, and it just--clicked)

also Arthur, looking slightly more sure of himself now: (needs one final test to make absolutely certain, but he thinks he knows just what to ask) What would you have me do, if I cannot tell you apart?

Real Merlin, without missing a beat: Arrest us both. (shrugs casually) I am a sorcerer after all. Better safe than sorry.

(And that's just it, isn't it. It was just like Merlin, to sacrifice himself like that. It was just so, unmistakenly Merlin.)

Arthur, smirking in mock offense: Better safe than--excuse you, I could take you apart with one blow!

Merlin *cough*hearteyes*cough* "Emrys" Hunithson™, the one and only: I could take you apart with less than that

(In the end, Merlin walks himself to the dungeons as the imposter is arrested, just to give Arthur peace of mind so there's no pressure to second guess his decision since even if Arthur chose wrong, there is no assassin Merlin imposter on the loose. Merlin and the imposter both spend 3 days in their respective cells before the imposter finally does some decidedly out of character shit and Arthur can have him executed with full confidence that it's not Merlin... since the guy really was very good at mimicking Merlin. Arthur didn't even realize that he'd needed it at the time, but looking back, he probably would have had a panic attack as the imposter was marched to be hanged. He probably would have doubted himself at the last second and wondered if he really did believe the right Merlin those few days ago. But thankfully, Merlin thinks ahead sometimes and is actually quite thoughtful and wise on these such rare occasions.)

[escespace]

Merlin and Arthur but someone help me I can't get it out of my head:

A threat, Merlin is going to face it, Investigate, fight, yadyadayada... The only solution is to make a deal that, in exchange for keeping Camelot safe for another day, Merlin must give up all the memories of his most precious person.

Obviously after running out of memories of ☆Arthur☆ He doesn't understand the importance of returning to Camelot, why is he still there if Gaius has taught him almost everything he can, Even kilgharrah isn't there anymore. For some reason, moreover, he feels that he often causes the poor physician more problems that should be... And all this without mentioning that before he wanted to see the world, he wanted to explore, to know and who knows? He might even make a name for himself... At least that's what he dreamed of as a child.

Again, why is he still in Camelot?

THEN HE GOES. JUST LIKE THAT

The next day Arthur can't find Merlin anywhere and we all know how he gets. He searches for him, he stresses, he screams... But it is not until night comes and he speaks with Gaius that the old man breaks his facade and Arthur notices the concern, that something is not right. He presses and presses until Gaius finally admits that he hasn't seen Merlin since the previous evening, that Merlin didn't sleep there and that he didn't even know where Merlin had gone.

It is canon that Arthur would immediately lose the marbles. As prince regent he order a wanted party. Nothing can stop him because *the power of the script*

Weeks go by with no sign of Merlin. Search efforts are dwindling as there are other priorities These priorities include certain strange occurrences in border villages.Some of these strange occurrences include a group of knights who were defeated by an entity they failed to see or recognize when they went to pick up an accused sorcerer. In addition, in the town next to that one, an entire family suspected of magic disappeared.

The council agrees that action must be taken or the people will begin to see those signs of weakness when it comes to responding to the law, with a sick king and having faced a mini conquest (I don't remember the chronological order of certain events, apologies); They must make it clear that Camelot is still the same as always...

Then, by the power of the script, the prince argues until he is the one who is designated to command the patrol of knights who will go to the villages in question (for honor, to make the people see him as a prince who executes his own orders or whatever)

Between surveys in the villages, some talks with peasants, follow clues... GUESS WHO THEY FIND?

Merlin has been wandering here and there, posing as a herb seller (because that must be good for something), Coincidentally, he has not left that specific town where the suspicious events occurred (he is that stupidly confident)...

He seems to vaguely recognize the knights. One of them he met in a tavern, another fighting a griffin, another is the brother of someone he met who-knows-where; and the other... He can't remember where he knows him from. That makes him feel strangely dizzy, there is a pressure in his head and there are pits that he does not want to question himself.In all this, Arthur does not stop shouting a thousand and one things at him. How stupid he is, how careless he is, how much work he has put in the backlog while touring every tavern in Albion...

Then Merlin says the three words that put Arthur's world Heel over head:

«who are You?»

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Time for today's silly Merlin au! This time featuring himbo Arthur!

I think that the show should have leaned into the whole "Merlin's technically a creature of magic" aspect, both in terms of being magic incarnate and kin to the dragons, and I think Arthur should have also been forced to come to terms with it as well. However, this is Arthur we're talking about, so of course he wouldn't come to the right conclusions right away.

In this scenario, around season 5-ish, there's an evil sorcerer seeking revenge against Camelot for the purge who puts a spell on all of the humans in Camelot, one that would weaken them and cause such fatigue that no one would be able to even stand up after a while. But it's a powerful and taxing spell to cast, so the sorcerer can only afford to target the humans in Camelot to keep the number of targets as low as possible. Besides, what could the livestock in Camelot do to stop him anyways?

So everyone in Camelot is falling under this spell, and Arthur and the knights are rushing to prepare for battle against the sorcerer to make him lift the spell. However, with each hour that passes, everyone grows weaker and weaker.

Merlin does, of course, know that this spell has been cast and what it does, but he doesn't feel its affects and assumes that his magic is protecting him. He acts like he's growing weaker so he doesn't fall under anyone's suspicions for the wrong reasons. However, after Merlin summons and talks to Kilgarrah for advice on how to break the spell, Kilgarrah informs him that Merlin wasn't protected by his magic, but rather by the fact that he isn't truly human.

And Merlin decides to unpack the implications of that some other time, because he's got a kingdom and a prat to save.

Fast forwards to the knights getting their asses kicked by the sorcerer and the evil sorcerer preparing to kill Arthur, who's lying on the ground with his eyes closed. All the other knights were knocked out by a blast from the sorcerer, but Arthur's still barely clinging to consciousness, yet he's too weak to even open his eyes. All he can do is listen helplessly as the sorcerer prepares to kill them all.

But then the sorcerer yelps, as if he were hit by something. Arthur's hope skyrockets as the sorcerer yells "You! How are you even still awake?! Every single human in Camelot should be feeling the full effects of the spell by now!" Arthur thinks for a moment that one of his knights has found enough strength to overcome the spell and fight back, but that hope is quickly dashed when he hears Merlin's voice responding like he isn't tired in the slightest, saying, "Well it's a good thing I was never really human then."

Merlin decided to say that to throw the sorcerer off-kilter enough to distract him and give Merlin an advantage in the fight. Besides, Merlin can see that all of the knights, including Arthur, are knocked out on the ground, so there's no harm in admitting it to this sorcerer who he's definitely going to have to kill.

Arthur, meanwhile, is still conscious and completely reeling from Merlin's words. What the hell did he mean he wasn't human?! Has some vile magical creature taken Merlin's place?

After the battle (which sounded to Arthur like a bunch of grunts, pained yelps, and a final, wet gurgle), Arthur could feel the effects of the spell lifting, letting him open his eyes with a gasp. He frantically looks around to make sure Merlin's ok, but Merlin's only a few steps away from him, while the sorcerer lies dead on the ground with a sword buried in his chest.

Hearing Arthur's gasp, Merlin turns to him with a relieved smile and helps pulls Arthur to his feet. Arthur, meanwhile, is too stunned to even ask how Merlin of all people managed to kill a powerful sorcerer by himself, but Merlin's giving some unbelievable explanation that involves distracting the sorcerer and then getting a miraculous opening and stabbing the sorcerer. Arthur's nodding along, but inside, he's really searching man who might be Merlin or might be some magical imposter posing as Merlin, as awful as that is for Arthur to consider, for any signs that he's truly Merlin.

If he's an imposter, Arthur has to give him credit, he plays his part well. The man in front of him looks exactly like Merlin, talks like Merlin, walks with Merlin's lanky gait, and seems to know everything Merlin knows, even their inside jokes. Still, Arthur needs to be sure, so after they get back to the castle, Arthur goes down to the vaults and grabs a secret object that Uther used in the purge that could detect illusions and glamor magics. It was a simple clear crystal in the shape of a sphere and small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand, but if someone or something that was using magic to alter their appearance came into contact with it, the crystal would glow with a bright light.

Arthur plants the sphere in his chambers and disguises it as a new paperweight. The next day, Arthur pretends to accidentally knock it off his desk, sending it rolling across the floor, and orders the maybe-Merlin to pick it up and bring it back to his desk. Maybe-Merlin rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of Merlin and walks over to the crystal. To Arthur's shock and relief, the crystal doesn't glow when Merlin picks it up, so he definitely is the true Merlin.

But then that leads Arthur to a horrible conclusion: the Merlin he knew wasn't a human, and never was. And the only creatures with the ability to look convincingly human were creatures of magic.

Oh god, Merlin was a creature of magic.

Arthur decides that, in order for him to plot an appropriate course of action, he needs more information. Namely, he needs to know what exactly Merlin is.

So, Arthur sneaks into the library and secretly takes some of the bestiaries, searching for what manner of creature Merlin truly is. Arthur tries not to jump to the worst possible conclusions, but all of the creatures of magic that can take human form that Arthur knows of are horrible monsters that prey on humans. Take the sidhe and the lamia for examples!

But people don't randomly go missing or turn up dead from monster attacks very frequently in Camelot, and Merlin cries when Arthur so much as shoots a bunny, so if Merlin's some sort of monster that kills and eats humans, he's doing a piss poor job at being one. So, Merlin must be some sort of creature that doesn't hurt humans, which certainly narrows down the list.

Arthur eventually finds a list of peaceful, human-like creatures of magic, and he starts trying to narrow down what Merlin is. He couldn't be an elf, since his ears were huge and round, not pointed. He couldn't be a gnome, he was too tall and gangly. He couldn't be a nymph, he spent too much time indoors to be a nature spirit. He couldn't be a leprechaun, he didn't have a beard or an affinity towards gold. He couldn't be a fae or a sidhe, he doesn't make deals with anyone (besides when he goes gambling at the tavern). And he certainly couldn't be a dragonlord, they were all dead!

Arthur was just about to give up when he finally found what he was looking for! The book's passage on fairies described them as benevolent relatives to the fae who would often disguise themselves as humans and would bring good luck and fortune to whoever befriended them, while sometimes engaging in some fun mischief! That must be Merlin!

Come to think of it, Arthur did have some great moments of luck, some of them almost miraculous! Morgana's magic failing her the day of a battle, defeating a dragon single-handedly, surviving the questing beast's bite, and of course defeating monsters that were said to only be killed through magic. And Merlin had been there for all of those events!

The book also describes fairies as creatures that love all living beings and are closely connected with nature, which makes perfect sense considering how much Merlin hates hunting! And fairies could see into the true hearts of people, which was how Merlin always knew if a person was untrustworthy!

It all made so much sense! This even explained Merlin's random "visits to the tavern", when Arthur knew that Merlin rarely ever drank. According to the book, fairies could only maintain their human forms for so long before they needed to spend some time in their smaller winged forms.

The book even addressed how fairies could be born from a union between a particularly powerful fairy and a human, which even explained why Merlin never knew his father and how Merlin could be a creature of magic while having a human mother!

Now that he knew the truth, Arthur felt so much relief! His best friend wasn't some diabolical monster, he was just a playful and friendly fairy trying to live as a human! It made so much sense!

And now all Arthur had to do was prove it. All evidence pointed to Merlin being a fairy, but he needed concrete proof before he could take any action. According to the book, the blood of a fairy in a human disguise sparkled under the light of a full moon. So, Arthur devised a plan to take Merlin out on an overnight hunting trip the day before the next full moon and "accidentally" cut Merlin's arm with one of the crossbow bolts. Arthur would then bandage the cut for Merlin and, after a couple hours, insist on changing the bandages, and pocket the first bloodied bandage.

Sure, Arthur felt guilty about purposely cutting his friend, but this was Merlin's fault for keeping the fact that he wasn't human a secret over their ten years of friendship! So, Arthur goes through with his plan, and when he held the used bandage up to the moonlight after Merlin had fallen asleep, he has to hold back a gasp as the red blood on the cloth shimmers and turns a bright golden color. Well, the book was right, the blood certainly sparkled!

(It was a shame that Arthur never read into warlocks, and how the magic in a warlock's blood made their blood turn gold under the light of a full moon.)

Arthur then turned to look at his peacefully sleeping friend, and swore that he would do everything he could to help his friendly little fairy.

Shortly after that revelation, Arthur starts actively noticing all of the strokes of luck he has. Bandits can never land a hit on him because they're too busy getting knocked out by tree branches or tripping over roots, his baths and meals are always the perfect temperature no matter how long he waits, and his injuries all heal at near-impossible rates. Hell, Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he got sick with something as small as a cold!

So Arthur tries to do little things for Merlin to show him his appreciation, like giving Merlin flower crowns (which fairies are said to like and Merlin absolutely adores), giving him a shiny silver mirror (fairies are supposed to like shiny things, and Merlin's never had a proper mirror before), and giving Merlin parts of his own meals as a food offering (which Merlin of course isn't about to turn down).

(Arthur's also kinda frustrated at the lack of information about fairy courting rituals lol!)

But Arthur isn't the best at keeping secrets, so the knights of the round table eventually catch him trying to set up a nice little fairy ring for Merlin in the garden, and they also "figure out" that Merlin is a fairy, and it all spirals from there until the entire castle is trying to show their appreciation for their fairy friend.

Merlin's very confused by all of this (since Arthur's terrible at actually communicating, Merlin doesn't know that Arthur thinks he's a fairy), but he's not about to turn down all of these lovely gifts!

And there's lots of different directions the story could go from there! A pretty funny scenario would be some rival king catching wind of how Camelot's great victories are all because of their king befriending a kind fairy, so he kidnaps Merlin in an attempt to make Merlin grant him such great luck and victory in battle. However, all they do to imprison Merlin is pour a circle of salt around him (since they firmly believe that fairies cannot cross a barrier of salt).

Merlin's just kinda raises an eyebrow and thinks that this is the weirdest kidnapping ever, steps over the salt, and escapes back to Camelot.

Thank you for reading through my rambling! :D

[wordsinhaled]

remember in the SECOND EPISODE of merlin when gaius was all, "merlin, i’m sorry but your word counts for nothing because you’re a servant and no one will care what you have to say"

and then merlin came to arthur and arthur was all SWEAR TO ME THAT WHAT YOU SAY IS TRUE and THEN I BELIEVE YOU and then he went to his father and assembled the whole court so that merlin's concerns would be heard, because he shared them

remember when even after not being able to substantiate the claim and firing merlin he still believed that what merlin said was the truth. remember when even after being sacked and sent away merlin came back to warn arthur

remember when arthur was all “my father will never apologize to me for being wrong” and then turned right around and APOLOGIZED TO MERLIN (his manservant!) and ADMITTED HE WAS WRONG. remember when uther was all, you care about some manservant's opinion??? and arthur was all, well yes, obviously, because merlin's a fucking person. remember when arthur saw merlin as a person when all his life merlin has felt different and other and confused about who he is and what he is

and also, again, all of this was in the SECOND EPISODE

remember when in the second episode arthur already showed he'd be a better ruler for albion than uther ever was, even back then when arthur was still so young at heart and had so much learning and growing still to do

remember when this all foreshadowed how he would take (and even ask for) merlin's perspective and advice later, during crucial moments for the kingdom

okay. and also since i'm here

THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT YOU, MERLIN in the first episode (the first episode!!!)

and

the way merlin is all "you have the wrong person" this and "arthur's an idiot" that but as soon as he hears confirmation that arthur is his destiny he's THROWING himself in harm's way (literally) for arthur, he's cheering for arthur in tournaments, he's worrying about him

arthur is the one who started a second confrontation at the marketplace - not merlin. because he was curious about him. because he wanted him in his life and didn't even understand why yet

because he can feel it; they can both feel it

THEY'RE TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN!!!! soulmates!!!!!!

okay, and listen. listen

thinking about arthur's journey from anger to acceptance to gratitude once he learns about merlin's magic, and how on some level you'd think that would change their dynamic forever because arthur would feel he could never make it up to merlin for all the ways he'd saved and supported arthur and the kingdom. and maybe arthur might feel that way for a while. but the fact of the matter is that arthur has always treated merlin as more than his manservant. from day one. FROM DAY ONE

merlin would have served arthur for the rest of his life!!! he would have been his court sorcerer!!! okay! he was ready for that! he was ready to see arthur white-haired and wise in his old age and he would have been at his side then still helping him dress even though he doesn't need to anymore, arthur's got other servants for that, and merlin's got other duties now, and arthur would say, shouldn't you be in your tower, dollophead? even while shrugging into the jacket merlin holds out for him, and merlin would respond i should, my lord even while fastening the clasps of arthur's cloak and it would be everything and nothing like old times

god, do you ever just think about THEM and have a whole Situation because... THEY

[mylifesjustacarousel]

the sorcerer and the apprentice

pairing: james hook x gn!reader (requested)

summary: you, the child of merlin, and james hook make quite an odd pair (with obvious feelings for each other). but what happens when you two make magic together?

type: fluff, some teasing here and there

CW: none

WC: 1k

the prequel | part 1 | part 3

There were perks to being the child of Merlin, the principal and founder of Merlin Academy. You were well advanced in your wizardry skills, which was a blessing… and a curse. All of the other students were constantly lined up to try to get something from you; love potions, flying spells, blah blah blah… You name it, someone has asked you for it. But, there was one student that you always made an exception for, even if you couldn’t really explain why.

James Hook, one of the VKs in Uliana’s crew, was one of your nearest and dearest friends. You were quite the odd pair, seeing that you came from very different backgrounds. He admired your carefree personality, despite being the child of the person on campus who cared the absolute most… about everything. Well, it was more than admiration. Hook was absolutely head over heels for you. The way that you carried yourself with the utmost confidence, your intelligence and your care when it comes to your craft… he was hooked.

“Hand me the bottle over there, James,” you reached your hand out, waiting for him to put the bottle in your hand. When a few seconds went by and your hand was still empty, you looked over.

Hook had his eyes on you, a soft and warm smile on his face. It was a pretty rare sight, he usually tried to keep up his hard and cold demeanor, but he couldn’t help but let his walls down around you. You were safe, you were comforting. A home he never really had.

“James!” you shouted, nudging his side with your elbow.

He snapped out of his trance, almost jumping out of his seat. “Easy there!” he reached over, picking up the bottle, “Tears of sadness? You cry so much when you miss me that you keep a whole bottle of your tears?” Rolling your eyes, you snatched the bottle, “Ha. Ha. Ha. So very funny, James.”

His eyes softened as he watched you, your eyes carefully reading your spell book to make sure you got the exact measurements of the potion right. “Does it ever get… annoying, y/n?” you looked over at him, confused, “Does what ever get annoying? You?”

“Not what I meant.” He huffed, gently nudging your arm. “No, I meant everyone knowing who you are? Asking for potions and spells all the time?” you thought about it and ultimately just shrugged. “Sometimes. But, I also like knowing that I can make a change in other people’s lives.”

He watched silently as you poured a drop of the tears into the potion, carefully stirring it with the griffin claw. “Hey, when can I make a potion?” he asked after a minute, looking over at your spell book. While he loved spending time with you, there was nothing more boring, besides actually going to school, than sitting there and handing you bottles. You giggled, bottling up the love potion you had made, “Alright, Captain, let’s see what you can do.”

Grabbing your spell book, he stepped in front of the cauldron. He looked through spells and potions before finding one he liked. You sat down in the chair he once occupied, quietly watching him. The way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way his lips moved silently as he repeated the ingredients to himself. You couldn’t even help but get lost in his dark brown eyes.

When you two first met, you were enemies. After all, you were the child of the founder of your school, so he expected you to be nothing but a goody two shoes. He would taunt and tease you, along with the rest of Uliana’s crew. But, after you played a pretty harsh (and funny) prank on Uliana, he realized that you weren’t what you seemed on the surface. Once he learned who you were truly, you clicked and had become close.

Not as close as either of them would like, or would care to admit, though.

It was sickeningly obvious that they had feelings for each other, but they both had too much pride and just didn’t know how to talk about their feelings. They would never confess their feelings for one another. So they stuck with innocent flirting and teasing here and there.

“Do I have something on my face?” Hook teased, his lip curling up in a smirk. You quickly looked away from him, your face heating up as it turned bright red. “Nope, just making sure that you don’t mess anything up. You can’t afford to lose that pretty hair in potion mishap,” you mumbled, trying to find anything else in the room to look at.

Swallow me whole, ground, you thought to yourself.

“Well, I finished the potion, and my “pretty hair” is still there, darling,” He laughed, scooping a small amount of the potion into the bottle, “Come on, I wanna show you it.” He went over to your bookshelf, grabbing a vase of flowers that you had forgotten about, now dead and wilted, and brought them over to the table.

You raised a brow, your curiosity piquing, “What’re you up to, Hook?” he quickly put a finger up to your lips, shushing you, “Shh, trust me.”

He pulled his hand away, picking up the bottle of the potion that he just made. He poured a few drops over the vase of dead flowers, you quietly watching over his shoulder. Within a few seconds, the flowers had transformed. The once wilted and unrecognizable flowers had turned into a beautiful bouquet of roses. He picked them up, handing them to you.

“They’re for you, darling. Look, they’re the same color as your face.”

You tried to hide your grin as you looked at the flowers in your hands, but you couldn’t help it. “That was… very sweet, James. I’m impressed.” you put the flowers back in their vase, this time putting them on your bedside table right where you could see them. “If you let me take you to Castlecoming next week, there will be more where that came from.”

Your eyes widened and you whipped around, turning to face him, “Are you asking me out on a date?” he walked towards you, shrugging, “That depends on what your answer is.” you giggled, pretending to think about it before giving him your answer.

“Yes, I’ll go to Castlecoming with you, James.”

a/n: i had a lot of fun writing that! i’m hoping that they will get a lot longer as time goes on, but i’m super happy with how this turned out! and thank you to cafekitsune for the text divider, it is gorgeous

[frost-queen]

Starcrossed lovers // part 6 (Reader x Peter Parker) NWH

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @minimin1993 , @narnianwitch , @benonlinear , @canthebest1 , @mellowdreamlandpost-blog , @thewhitewolfmarvel , @freek12569 , @bookloverfilmoholic , @cigarettedaydreamsandcofee , @qalijahbydior , @gabriella-aesthetic , @fallenxjas , @fluffybunnyu , @minimin1993 , @supernaturalstilinski , @cherrysxuya , @armybts20137, @superlegend216 , @wtvbabes , @bat-h-tic , @snowflakemoon3

Summary: Peter and Peter decide to join forces to go look for you at the sanctum's door, hoping Strange would have you. Yet they are faced with a rude reality that you might not even be in this timeline. [series list]

“The portal!” – Peter three called out, walking over to the edge, pointing down. – “That was one of the sorcerers portals right?” – Peter three asked to clarify he was right. Peter one furrowed his brows. – “Dr. Strange.” – Peter one cleared out. – “Yes!” – Peter three exclaimed, snapping his fingers at Peter. – “How? He… he doesn’t even know who she is!” – Peter one called out, knowing his spell made sure of that. Peter three rushed up to Peter once more.

“You saw it too! The orange glowing portal! That’s his! He must have her!” – he made clear, doing his utter best to not yell at Peter for not seeing it so clear. – “For what reason? He doesn’t care one bit for her!” – Peter spoke back. – “Maybe… maybe he saw her falling and decided to help a girl in danger?” – Peter three let out as it just needed to fit in his head. It just had to be true.

Peter groaned softly, looking away. Peter three grabbed him by his shirt. – “You care for Y/n too right?” – he asked. – “I do!” – Peter one shouted back, pushing Peter’s hands off him. – “Then isn’t it worth finding out? Please… help me find her.” – he begged. – “Don’t… don’t you want her back…”  

“I do!” – Peter one exclaimed moving to the edge of the roof. – “And I’m going alone.” – he finished. Peter three’s eyes widened with fright. – “What no!” – he called out shooting a web at Peter. The web sticking on his hip. Peter groaned pulling the web off him. Frustrated he turned back to Peter. – “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t come back here Y/n would be save!” – Peter acted out.

“Go home.” – He said on a softer tone, closer to a hush. Already turning his body away from him. – “Peter wait!” – Peter three said making his fellow spiderman pause. – “Look… we… we don’t have to fight. We both want the same thing. We both care much for Y/n and want her save more than anything.” – Peter spoke smiling sheepishly with a hint of sadness.

“But you want…” – Peter one cut in making Peter three hold his hand up, knowing exactly what he was going to say. – “I know… I know… you’ve told me numerous times. I want to take her from you.” – he finished with a bit of saddened humour.

“She doesn’t belong in your timeline, you must know that.” – Peter begged. Peter slightly lowered his head with a faint smile. – “Yeah…” – he said admitting to the truth, but that didn’t want him to have you less. – “I…I just want to love again.” – Peter three ended as it captivated Peter one. Thinking back of MJ himself. It made him close his eyes brief with a deep sigh. – “Let’s find Y/n first. Then we’ll work it out.” – Peter one proposed. – “Absolutely.” – Peter three agreed with a goofy smile.

No matter how hard he tried to hide his excitement, he couldn’t. – “So where does this sorcerer of yours live?” – Peter three asked joining the edge of the roof with Peter one. – “177A Bleecker street.” – Peter one said. Both spiderman jumped down. Two webs shot out, sticking to a building as they came soaring upwards again. Swinging from building to building to get to the sanctum. Hoping that you would be there. Peter three took an observing eye of the neighbourhood.

Trying to link it to his own time line. If there were any differences and how grand they were. The sanctum emerged in view as it stood stall in the street. Both Peters dropped down in an alleyway to not draw any attention. Peter one took one tentative glace at Peter three in his bodysuit. Shaking his head, he threw him a shirt from his backpack.

“Try not to drawn any attention to yourself.” – he said throwing the shirt at him. Peter three caught the shirt, looking at the picture on it before putting it on without a complaint. Peter was walking closer towards the street from out of the alleyway. Peter three right behind him. He felt him breathing down his neck as he was scouting the streets. It made him sigh loud, turning around and pushing him slightly back by his chest. – “Let me do the  talking.” – Peter one suggested. – “Sure.” – Peter three gave in.

“Lead the way.” – he gestured to the streets. Peter one took a deep breath, leaving the alleyway to go knock on the sorcerers door. Peter grabbed the handle and knocked it loud against the door. Peter three furrowed his brows when there wasn’t an immediate response. Peter one noticed it too. – “Maybe you didn’t knock loud enough?” – Peter three said. – “I knocked loud enough.” – Peter one bit back.

“It doesn’t look like you did.” – he answered pulling his shoulders up. – “Try again.” – he nudged him, elbow in his side. – “I’m not going to knock again.” – Peter one called out. Peter three moved his hand out to the door over his shoulder. – “Just knock again. Maybe he didn’t hear cause he was busy with his spells?” – Peter three proclaimed grabbing the handle as he wanted to knock again.

The handle got slipped out of his grip when the door opened. – “Oh I heard.” – the voice spoke as the boys blinked surprised at him. – “Strange.” – Peter one called out with a hopeful smile. – “That is doctor to you.” – he made clear with much seriousness. Peter one cleared his throat. – “Sorry… Dr. Strange.” – he corrected. Dr. Strange sighed deep, looking briefly up to the sky. – “What do you want?”

“We are here for Y/n.” – Peter three said. – “Who?” – Dr. Strange answered visibly confused. Peter one looked disappointed knowing he wouldn’t remember you. – “Y/n. We know you have her doctor. We saw her fall through one of your portals.” – Peter three explained rather direct. Dr. Strange felt a bit offended. Peter three wasn’t going to wait for an answer, brushing past Peter and Dr. Strange.

Pushing the door further open as he let himself in. Peter one smiled sheepishly embarrassed at the sorcerer. – “Oh do let yourself in.” – Strange replied sarcastically. Peter one mouthed an apology as he entered as well making Strange roll his eyes. – “Of course. Do barge in. Have a cup of tea. Want a sleepover?” – he mumbled sarcastically at himself whilst closing the door. – “Y/n? Y/n? Where are you?” – Peter three shouted for your attention.

“I already told you, I don’t know any Y/n.” – Dr. Strange replied following after Peter to make sure he wouldn’t snoop in places he shouldn’t. – “We know you have her!” – Peter three answered loudly. His reaction made Stephen grab Peter three by his wrist before he could look around more. – “What is going on? And I want a fair explanation.” – he demanded to know.

Peter one moved forwards. – “Well you see…” – he began explaining everything. Telling Strange things of the spell and the battle before the spell went active anyways. He tried to give him details from previous battles with the Avengers, but Strange didn’t recall a spiderman being around. – “Then who is he?” – Strange asked, pointing at Peter three. Peter three took over, explaining. Strange’s eyes widened with each word he said about travel through parallel universes.

Peter one kept a careful eye on him. Seeing how he wasn’t freaking out or at least not as much as he thought he would. After the explanation Strange only hummed thoughtfully. Processing all the newly received information. – “So… you have her right?” – Peter one asked. – “I’m sorry kid, but I do not.” – he answered. – “You… you said a portal caught her…” – Strange spoke out loud.

“Like this one?” – he moved his hands forwards, letting one hand move in a circle motion as a portal opened with orange edges. – “Yes!” – Both Peter’s exclaimed. Strange closed the portal once more, humming deep. – “I didn’t caught her.” – he mumbled to himself. Both Peters looked at each other, slowly realizing that you might not be here at all. – “Then where is she?” – Peter three asked with worry and slightly panicing.

Chains clattered against the ground as the woman tried to hassle her restraints. There were loud footsteps approaching. It made you gasp loud, moving back against the wall. Your chain restraints rippling heavy over the ground. It felt ominous when the cloaked figure entered the room. He was holding out a tray. He first went over to the other lady, kneeling down before her. He placed the tray down, moving his hands to the fabric in her mouth, gagging her.

He freed her from it as she panted loud. – “Let me go Stephen!” – she said beggingly. – “You know I can’t Christine.” – he replied patting her head. – “You had your chance, but you chose power and your ego over me! I moved on Stephen, so should you.” – she called out. Strange grabbed her tight by the throat as a reaction. Having heard something he didn’t like, making him snap.

Christine looked frightful at him, moving her glance over to you beside her against the wall. Strange followed her gaze to you. – “She can’t help you.” – he said slowly releasing his grip from around her throat. Christine gasped loud, coughing to suck as much air back in as she could. He shoved the tray closer to her. Christine looked proudly away.

Strange kicked at her tray as it her food got smudged over the floor. It made her look pitiful at the waisted food, she so desperately craved, but wanting to have some self-control had the upper hand. – “What do you want with me?” – you called out to him, feeling bold enough to speak up to him. If Christine had the strength to go against him, so could you.

Strange quirked his brow up. Showing more wrinkles on his pale forehead that there should be assuming his age. – “With you, nothing much. You are just collateral damage for when that spiderboy of yours comes back. For he has something I want.” – Strange smiled giving you shivers. The thought of him hurting Peter made it all just too real for you.

It made you struggle against your restraints. Strange chuckled at your pathetic attempt, taking his leave as he heard you curse and scream, but he knew you couldn’t do anything to stop it. All he had to do was wait. Wait for the spiderman to finally realize he needs to return home.

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!  

[the-pen-pot]

All that mattered was that they met here: enemies by the word of his father's laws and no longer the friends they had once been. Arthur was not ashamed to admit that it started out as something spiteful. His demand that Merlin learned how to use a sword was no peace offering: it was little more than an excuse to vent his anger.

Except he never did.

----- Arthur attempts to come to terms with the secret of Merlin's sorcery. Can he move past the betrayal, or will their friendship be wrought to nothing but ruins?

------ 

The wind raked its claws over the duelling ring, scouring the mud-churned grass and wobbling the fence that demarked its edge. At this time of day, there were no watching knights or eager pages looking to glean what they could from Arthur's swordplay. He wasn't performing for the audience of Camelot's general populace.

This, he thought with cruel, bitter relish, was a punishment for Merlin alone.

'Pick it up.' He gestured to the practice sword.

'Arthur...' Merlin's voice was low and hurting. He looked defeated, his narrow shoulders shuddering in the cold. The air plucked at the loose hem of his tunic, teasing it like a tourney pennant. 'I said I was sorry. I explained –'

'Stop.' His own blunted sword made a sweeping arc through the air, a dismissive slice to behead Merlin's sentence before it found completion. He had no wish to hear it.

Words. It was all just words.

They had tumbled, tremulous, from Merlin's lips, desperate and determined in equal measure, his secret laid bare for Arthur's judgement.

His magic made known.

Never, in all his life, had Arthur felt so utterly betrayed. It cut him to the quick, because this man, who he had thought of as his best friend, turned out to be little more than a stranger.

His throat clicked as he swallowed. His jaw shifted, his teeth clenching as he bit out his command. 'Pick. It. Up.'

This was the culmination of almost three weeks of silence between them. Day after day, he had turned the situation over in his mind, trying to reconcile his own bruised and bloody heart with his duty to his father's laws. The matter should have been clear-cut. Sorcerers received no mercy within Camelot's walls. That was why Merlin had clung to his secret for so long, after all. It was not some petty, trifling thing. Its revelation could cost him his life.

And he had placed all that in Arthur's hands, to be cherished or crushed as he saw fit.

As if any of it were that simple!

It hurt. In the deepest hours of the night, when he lay awake staring at the canopy of his bed, that was the truth that came back to haunt him. It was an ache that thrived no matter how much he attempted to ignore it. A throbbing hollow where his heart had once held reign. Worse, he did not know what to do about it. It felt as if he carried some great and terrible thing around with him. It kept lashing out to rake him anew with its claws, spilling his blood where no one could see.

'You need to learn.' He didn't know if he was talking about weapons training or something else – something too nebulous to put into words. 'Pick. It. Up.'

His hand tightened around the pommel of his sword as he inwardly begged Merlin to understand what even Arthur himself could not. Back there, within the castle's hale and hearty walls, he felt torn apart, rent asunder by everything that swarmed through his mind. Out here, the world was a simpler place.

He did not know if he sought understanding or merely to assuage his own pain. He only knew that he needed Merlin to meet him here on Arthur's terms, rather than his own. He could not understand magic, but he could help Merlin understand this: the clean thrust of the weapon and the skill of strategy.

Perhaps, somehow, he could create some common ground between them and they could find their way through this, one way or another.

To meet as friends or part as strangers.

Slowly, Merlin reached for the sword.

******

'No armour, Sire?' Leon's voice was soft with gentle reproach when he made his way indoors, stowing the practice swords in their barrel. He should have known that some of his knights would be keeping a weather eye on the situation. They knew. They were too close to him and Merlin both to keep in the dark, as near enough to brothers as they could be without the bond of blood. Leon had peeled the truth free from Arthur in halting, stumbling words, breathless with rage and struggling not to sob with the hurt he harboured. No doubt Gwaine had plucked the facts free of Merlin with equal tenacity.

Now they both stood watching him, their chainmail agleam: a striking contrast to the linen and cambric that had been all that stood between he or Merlin and the edge of a practice blade. Yet he knew Leon's comment was not about his own state of dress. They all knew Merlin's skill with a sword or lack thereof. Arthur had never been in danger of even a glancing blow.

'No.'

He turned away, hesitating as Gwaine's voice reached him, low and knowing.

'You didn't so much as touch him with your blade. Not even once.'

Arthur's hand tightened over the edge of the door, a splinter digging into his palm. There had been no shortage of opportunities. He had let each one pass him by.

'No.'

******

Every day, Arthur expected Merlin to make his excuses, and every day, he surprised him. It was not as if he had ever followed an order unless he wanted to, and it could not be more obvious that Merlin had no desire to wield a sword. Perhaps he understood there was more to all this than Arthur was saying. Maybe it was an olive branch, of sorts, or merely an effort at self-flagellation: something to make Arthur pity him.

He didn't know. He didn't care to know Merlin's motivations. All that mattered was that they met here: enemies by the word of his father's laws and no longer the friends they had once been. Arthur was not ashamed to admit that it started out as something spiteful. His demand that Merlin learned how to use a sword was no peace offering: it was little more than an excuse to vent his anger.

Except he never did.

This – teaching a man how to wield a weapon and defend the realm – was something that came to him naturally. It was an area in which he was the one in control. It was a dynamic that fit him far more comfortably than any robe or crown, and it allowed him to take the pain that lingered within him and mould it into something useful. Out on that sun-gilded, wind-stricken, rain-soaked patch of land, it felt as if he and Merlin could strip themselves back to their essentials, carving away everything extraneous that might stand between them so they could truly weigh one another's worth.

And grudgingly, Arthur could admit that Merlin was improving. It was slow – by the gods, slow – but he could see how hard he tried. His determination wrote itself large in every line of his frame, even when he lay on his back, his hair clinging to his sweat-brined brow as he panted at the sky.

'Will you ever forgive me?'

It was quietly said, as if Merlin did not feel he had the right to ask. After all, he was the first sorcerer in Camelot for twenty years or more who had not been dragged to the pyre or led to the headsman. He had his life, which was more than any other mage could boast. In the eyes of many, that was mercy enough from a Pendragon.

And perhaps Arthur's anger was not as weak in tooth and claw as he had thought. It still lay in wait to boil up in his throat, making his next words cold and dismissive. 'When you can disarm me in fair combat. Then I'll forgive you.'

It was a dishonourable challenge on his part. Not even his best knights had managed it. He had promised to pay Gwaine's tavern bill for a year if he ever succeeded in that same act, and he had not yet laid claim to that prize. Merlin's skills may be improving, but he would never be more than passable, and Arthur suspected they both knew it.

Perhaps it was a test: of Merlin's determination and commitment – of the magic he had not yet once brought to bear. Maybe that was Arthur's real aim in all this: to push and push and push until Merlin reached his breaking point and proved Uther right. 

He didn't know. He did not know his own mind or his own heart. All he understood was the slice of the blade and the steel in the line of Merlin's shoulders when he reclaimed his feet and faced Arthur once more.

******

Fighting with the knights was different. In their company, he did not hold back. They bore his frustrations with grace, challenging him at every possible turn and whittling the mess in his own head down to a dagger point.

Lancelot was normally the one who faced him. A penance of his own, perhaps. He had known of Merlin's magic. He had kept his secret: complicit, in the eyes of Camelot's law, and yet Arthur could not find it in himself to be surprised. To question his decision would be to question Lancelot's very nature – his honour and compassion.

To expect his silence on the matter was foolhardy to the extreme.

'Do you intend to keep it up forever, Sire?' Respectful. Lancelot was always respectful, even when committing treason, it seemed. 'This punishment of yours?'

'Consider the alternative. Merlin should be grateful.' Arthur sliced and switched, scowling when Lancelot blocked him with enviable grace. 'As should you.' It was a pointed, cruel reminder. He hated it the moment it past his lips, but there was no calling it back.

'Perhaps you need to consider another question,' Lancelot said, after a moment's thoughtful silence interrupted only by the clash of their blades, 'At the end of all this, should Merlin find your forgiveness, do you think he will answer in kind?' One dark brow lifted, and the set to Lancelot's jaw was grim and resolved. 'Do you think he will forgive you?'

'What?' The snarl bolted free of him, the tip of his sword twitching in a feint and jab that Lancelot knocked aside at the last minute. 'And in what way have I wronged him? What secrets have I kept? He is the liar. The traitor.'

'If that's what you believe, then let him go. Let him walk away from here and live his life, rather than demanding the impossible. He cannot be anything different, Arthur, no matter how much you rage against it.' Lancelot lowered his voice, the words softening to something more gentle than Arthur suspected he deserved. 'He cannot change, but you can. How this ends is not in Merlin's hands, Arthur. It is in yours. Do not pretend otherwise.'

******

What secrets have I kept?

The words haunted him as he stared at the fall of moonlight across his chamber floor. The flagstones gleamed. His rooms were abominably tidy, thanks to George's service. Arthur had never thought he would miss the mess.

Miss Merlin.

He swallowed, sagging deeper beneath the inadequate comfort of his eiderdown. He had attempted to claim innocence, as if he had not been holding his own silence while his heart tripped and ached and sang. Merlin's betrayal would be easier to swallow, perhaps, if Arthur were not the fool who had fallen in love with him.

And where was that man now, with his beaming smiles and his startling wisdom, his honesty and his unfaltering belief? Was he gone, nothing but a performance from a sorcerer seeking an advantage? 

Had he ever existed at all?

******

'Tell me.'

Merlin flinched in surprise, his focus breaking like a wave on the shore. The tip of his sword dipped, useless, leaving his flank wide open. If he were a knight, Arthur would smack him with the flat of his blade – maybe a bruise would help him remember – yet he did not.

'Tell you what?'

Arthur shifted his weight, never lowering his guard, never lifting his gaze. He refused to look into that face and witness his confusion. He would not give the tiny flicker of hope in Merlin's voice credence. He did not know why he asked, only that he had to know. Was it about learning an enemy's weakness, or finding his way to forgiving a friend? 

He had not yet decided.

'Everything.'

The tip of Merlin's tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. A creak of leather whispered through the air as he shifted his grip around the hilt of the practice sword. Blue eyes shifted, darting up towards the looming presence of the castle at Arthur's back, the towers thrusting into the sky and the flags at their peaks rattling their accusations. His gaze seemed to trace the windows, darting from one to the next before he looked back at Arthur.

There was no wide-eyed innocence, there; no joyful gleam of a teasing friend. Yet nor did he cower and cringe. Narrow shoulders hardened beneath his tunic and the line of his spine was like an iron bar. For once, Merlin looked as if he could be the older of the two of them, grim-faced and determined: a man discharging his duty.

Finally, after a silence defined by the whistle of the wind and the soft sigh of their breathing, Merlin began.

******

Arthur did not know what to do with the knowledge he had been given: the good and the bad of it. He was not sure what was worse – the way Merlin had outlined, punctuated by the chime of one sword on the other, all the notable things he had done with his magic since arriving at Camelot, or the flat manner of his delivery.

A knight in his position would have boasted of his triumph. He would have worn his own worth like a mantle for the world to see. Or, on the rare occasion when things went wrong, he would have humbled himself in his apology.

Merlin did neither. He sought no accolades for the times – so many times – that he had saved Arthur's life, starting from the day they met and never finding cease. Nor did he grovel over his role in events that could have wrought Camelot to nothing but ash or ended in a funeral instead of a fanfare. He offered explanations, not excuses, and left Arthur to his considerations.

As if he wanted to be abandoned to the furore of his own thoughts.

He prowled his chambers, marching in a tight line across flagstones and rugs, dipping into the balm of the fire's aura before withdrawing from it once more. The temperature over his skin matched the ebb and flow of his mood: warmth at Merlin's sacrifice and obvious devotion, a chill at his strength, hidden from sight but no less present. Heat as the anger rose in him like bile, only to quench itself in the ice of his own sorrow. 

Because through it all, he had heard what Merlin never put into words. The ache of his loneliness gilded every statement. He did not condemn anyone else alongside him. If Gaius played a role, he spoke nothing of it, and he made no mention of Lancelot. Arthur had imagined them laughing behind his back, enjoying their deception. Yet he doubted the truth of his own fears. If nothing else, he knew Merlin better than that. Perhaps the revelation of his secret had struck at him like a knife blow, cutting him to the quick, but even in his anger, Arthur could see there had been no lie in his character.

He had not played a part when he claimed friendship with Arthur, and the goodness in his heart was no act. Merlin would know, all too well, the danger to anyone who might be seen as an accomplice in his treachery. He would have done his best to shield them from it, even if that meant carrying his burdens in solitude and relying on the advice of a dragon with an axe to grind.

Arthur sighed, collapsing to sit on his mattress like a man spent. He felt hollow and cold, assaulted from all sides and split at his seams by the dilemma that lay before him. As Crown Prince of Camelot, his duty could not be more plain, and yet, for weeks, he had held his silence. He had kept Merlin's secrets: an unwilling, furious guardian, more lost in his own pain than concerns for his kingdom's safety – more bothered by the shocking depths of his gods-cursed heartbreak than the fact that Merlin had magic.

Perhaps it was because, in the darkest, softest parts of him, he knew that Merlin would not purposefully cause Camelot harm. To do so would be to go against every fundament of his nature. He was not some robe-clad sorcerer, broiled in his own hatred for Uther and his legacy. He did not look at the townsfolk and see nothing more than vermin scurrying before him. He had never once, as far as Arthur knew, made the mistake of treating people like things.

There were few men of his acquaintance who could say the same; himself among them.

He was not ready, just yet, to let his anger go, but for the first time Arthur thought he could sense its horizon. He could feel the edge of the storm, where the waters calmed once more and clear sailing could be found. He could sense his own acceptance, or at least the possibility of it.

And for that, he was grateful.

******

He wasn't sure who was more surprised. Himself, shocked by the sudden pain of the blade across his bicep, or Merlin, who went white as a sheet and dropped his sword.

'Gods, I'm sorry!'

'You are a useless swordsman.' Arthur sighed, looking ruefully at Merlin's dropped weapon. 'The point is to hurt people.' Considering how Merlin got misty-eyed over the animals they killed out hunting, it was perhaps no surprise that he wasn't cut out for combat. Yet it wasn't as if Merlin had not taken a life before. He had not minced his words when describing what became of Nimueh or the Sidhe. He had placed the blame for their deaths firmly at his own feet, and with very little regret.

'The swords are meant to be blunt!'

The snap of Merlin's temper was almost a relief: a flash and spark of ire where Arthur had seen nothing but calm acceptance and grim determination for weeks. It lit him up from within, giving colour to pale cheeks and making his eyes gleam. Yet the hands that reached for Arthur were as gentle as ever, his long fingers warm over the cambric of his tunic as he eased the loose fabric aside and took in the injury.

It was a trifling thing, in truth. If he had been wearing chainmail, it would not have left so much as a mark. Any knight would say it was his own fault, and they would be right. Merlin's incompetence had lulled him into a false sense of security, allowing him to score a lucky hit. A nick in the edge of the blade had torn at him: a simple accident. Though he had to admit, it was bleeding a not inconsiderable amount.

'This is going to need stitches.'

Something bubbled in Arthur's chest, a sharp 'pop' of exhilaration that danced along the cusp of fear. 'Can't you just...?' He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, rolling his eyes when Merlin gave him a blank look. 'Fix it?'

'What, with...?' Merlin blinked before narrowing his eyes. 'It's against the law.'

'That's never stopped you before.' He smirked when he saw Merlin's jaw shift, stubborn as ever. Yet his reluctance was a veneer over deeper emotion: breathless hope and wavering uncertainty, as if he saw the peace offering in Arthur's command and ached to accept it. 'Can you, or is it too dangerous?'

That was the only reason Arthur would accept. He would wear his curiosity with pride, but he would not put Merlin at risk to appease it. The truth was, try as he might, magic still unsettled him. It was some vast, unknown thing, rarely spoken of within Camelot and never mentioned in favourable tones. He knew, logically, that Merlin had not lied to him when he listed his exploits, but it was one thing to know that magic could be used as a force for good, and another to see it in action.

And Arthur ached to understand, not just the magic, but the man who wielded it.

'No, it... no.' Merlin's gaze raked the empty practice field, where naught but the wind bore witness. 'Are you sure?'

Arthur shoved aside the whisper of his doubts, which spoke in his father's furious voice, and nodded his head.

There were no muttered words or showy gestures. No sparks fell from Merlin's fingers to scorch the earth beneath their feet. Instead, there was just the calloused warmth of his palm over the breach and the dazzling flare of gold burning away the blue of his eyes.

He had expected pain, perhaps, or a feeling of intrusion. Arthur had told himself that something so feared could not possibly be gentle, and yet there was nothing sharp and furious to the power that ebbed into him. It was like putting on a warm cloak after a cold day on horseback: an invisible embrace that wrapped him in its grasp. It did not linger on his skin but sank down into the core of him, passing all that was blood and bone to find a place beyond all that and striking a light within the darkness.

And the next breath Arthur took felt like his first taste of real air.

He had not known how void a life without magic could be until its fragrance exploded upon his tongue: not the fire and fury of a mage lost to their wrath, but that same power wrought to heal, rather than harm.  He had not seen the hollow inside him until it brimmed with Merlin's light, as tender and careful as the man himself.

More to the point, when he looked at Merlin, he saw all of him. There were no shadows of secrecy or obscuring masks. It was like the last piece of him slotting into place, and Arthur could not believe he had never noticed what was hidden for him. What must it have cost, to keep something so integral locked away, out of sight but never far from mind? What must Merlin have suffered, keeping all that strength tucked neatly out of view?

It was like watching a falcon spread its wings after too long in the mews, reclaiming its freedom as it took flight.

Gods, he was a fool. To fear magic was to fear the sword: a pointless act. The weapon was merely an act of deliverance. It was the one who wielded it that directed its strike.

And Merlin would never set out to hurt him, or anyone else he called a friend.

Arthur's sword thudded on the grass, freed from his grip as he reached for Merlin instead, wrapping his fingers around his arm. It was all he would permit himself as the gold in his eyes faded from view. Merlin's hand still rested over the cut, but Arthur could feel that it bled no more. The pain had ebbed, replaced by tender warmth, and his touch lingered, the two of them connected by the press of their palms.

I forgive you. Can you forgive me?

'Arthur?'

'I'm sorry.'

Merlin gave a tiny shake of his head, his brow crumpling into a frown as he shifted his feet, not away, as Arthur feared, but closer. He did not try and interrupt, but listened with his head tilted, as if giving every world, every syllable, every breath his full attention.

'I'm sorry I was so angry. That I didn't even try and understand. I'm sorry that I spent three weeks refusing to so much as see you and then dragged you out here to put you through some kind of – of test.' The air strained between his ribs, hard and hurting, breaking across the words that burst free of him: pallid blood from a different kind of wound. 'I'm sorry that I saw you as an enemy when I should know better.'

The hand on his bicep twitched, pressing tighter against his skin. 'I never blamed you for that. For any of it, really.' Merlin looked down at the ground between them, where their two swords lay forgotten. 'I hoped you knew me better than to think the worst, but...' He trailed off with a shrug. 'There's really nothing to forgive, Arthur.'

'Yes, there is.' Merlin might not admit it, but Arthur would not allow himself off the hook so easily. There were reasons aplenty for the way he felt, from the way he was raised to the pain he had witnessed magic cause, and yet he refused to use any of it as an excuse. His anger may have been genuine – a double-edged blade – but he had not reacted in a manner befitting a prince, a knight, or a decent friend. 

His pettiness did him no credit.

He could not change the past few weeks, but he could at least move forward from the wreckage.

'Thank you for telling me about your magic.' It was a murmur between them, a secret kept and shared. 'It was a brave thing to do; it would have been far easier, and safer, to hold your silence.'

Merlin swallowed, his lips twisting like he was trying not to cry. 'I couldn't. I just – I couldn't. Not anymore. It was easier, at the start, when you were being a complete prat, but –'

But they had nurtured a friendship between them, and despite all his doubts to the contrary, it had mattered as much to Merlin as it did to Arthur. In the face of that, Arthur knew Merlin had not been able to keep hiding what he was.

'So, what now?'

The question lingered between them, a breath upon the wind. It was one that had haunted Arthur through all these long weeks, edged in the gleam of an axe blade or choked by the pyre's fume. He could see now, with the benefit of hindsight, that he had been testing himself as much as he was testing Merlin, breaking down the walls of all the lies he had been told were certainties since boyhood.

Everything within himself that Uther would decry as a weakness, Arthur had begun to see as a strength. He did not follow blindly, obedient to his father's rhetoric. He did not look at the world without question. He did not put his faith in tradition or fear the rule of change. 

He knew a kingdom could be remade, if only the right man wore the crown.

'I keep you, and your secret, safe. My father will never know, and if he finds out, I will protect you.'

'Arthur –'

His fingers rested over Merlin's full lips, cutting off his protests. At any other time, he might have laughed at the flash of annoyance in those eyes. He wondered how much restraint it took for Merlin not to bite. Yet he subsided, listening, which made a nice change.

'I will protect you,' he repeated, with more solemnity than any other vow he had ever offered. 'Just as you have protected me all this time, but for that, I need you at my side. Not up in the healing rooms or trotting off after herbs.'

Merlin leaned back. 'Are you giving me my old job back?'

Arthur smirked, feeling the icy cocoon of his pain crack open to let in the warmth once more. 'You say "giving" like I'm offering you a choice. George has made changes. I can't find my socks anymore. It's inconvenient.'

'Well, I don't know about that. My old boss was a bit of a prat.' Merlin arched one eyebrow, and Arthur knew he was testing the waters, trying to find out how much of their friendship had survived this breach. Perhaps it had not emerged unscathed, but Arthur knew that it had suffered far less, perhaps, than either of them feared.

'Only a bit?'

Merlin's grin was like the sunrise, dimpling his cheeks as they turned back towards the castle. His shoulder bumped into Arthur's, cautious, maybe, but there all the same. 'Yeah.' His voice softened, and there was something almost tender in his gaze. He spoke, not with sarcasm, but with a kindness Arthur did not feel he deserved. 'Just a bit.'

Arthur's heart fluttered, throwing off the burden of its pain. Perhaps it would take time to heal. Maybe he would need more than a few words of reassurance to set himself to rights once more, but together, they had already taken the first step of that journey. He did not know where the path might lead them – back to friends or something more – but he intended to walk every step of it with Merlin at his side.

In their wake, the practice swords lay among the grass, their blades set to rest: their job done. It was there, on that stretch of innocuous grass that the ruins of betrayal had been cleared away, and a new foundation had found its root. Not one built over the precipice of a secret but placed, firm and sure, on solid ground.

The cornerstone of a golden age. 

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: The differences between Witches, Wizards, Druids and Warlocks

Questions by @tansyuduri

Tagging: @miyriu @tkmaras

Books used for reference: Merlin Complete Guide, Merlin Annual 2011, Merlin Annual 2013, Valiant, Death of Arthur and Tiny Merlin book called, “Arthur and the Unicorn”

Questions:

What is the difference between the four magical types? Witches, wizards, druids and warlocks.

Morgana is a witch, so are witches just woman born with magic and Warlocks are men and then Druids are part of the order?

But then what about woman NOT born with magic?

Also since Merlin is one of a kind this doesn’t fully make sense!

━━━━━✁┈┈┈┈┈┈

Known types of sorcerers:

Druid: Mordred, Iseldir, Cerdan, Aglain, Ruadan, Sefa, Kara and Freya.

Warlock: Alvarr, Merlin, Balinor and Dragonlords in general (Dragonlords are a very special warlock who can control Dragons).

Wizard: Gaius, Tauren, Anhora and Merlin (only referred to as a Wizard one time. More information about that below in the bonus section).

Witch: Morgana, Nimueh and Mary Collins.

My answer: I could be wrong, but it seems to me like the genres go as follows…

- Druids are a group of individuals who often possess magic and yet their group is more of a minority of religious and peaceful outsiders with members of both genders.

- Warlocks are men that are born with magic.

- Witches are woman born with magic.

- Wizards are men who acquire magic through extensive study and practice.

- It seems like other woman with magic (Alice, ect..) might just be referred to as a sorceress and if they use manipulation/seduction they might be coined an enchantress (which is how Uther referred to Morgause).

Important things to note:

There’s also special kinds of both Warlocks and Wizards that have a connection and power associated with certain magic creatures.

- Anhora is a very special kind of wizard (one who protects the unicorns).

- Dragonlords are a very special warlock (who can control Dragons and are their kin).

Interesting things about Witches:

- Despite witches being a type of female sorcerer, who can use magic for good or evil.

It’s interesting to me that the title of witch, seems to be an almost sexist term in itself.

Especially, since Uther’s hatred of magic has caused his citizens to enact ‘witch-hunts’ (which Gwen admits usually cause distrust and target innocent old ladies with cats).

Even the great dragon himself seems to only refer to Morgana as a ‘witch’ in a bitter way and it’s spoken as if being a witch makes her evil (which we know to not be true).

Sorcerers may be witches or wizards, druids or warlocks; they may use magic for good or evil.

A FATE UNKNOWN: Taken from Camelot by her half-sister Morgause, does she know it was Merlin who poisoned her? And if she lives, will she return to Camelot a hero, or with villainy in her heart? Will she live up to the title of witch' bestowed on her by the Great Dragon?

Interesting facts about Merlin:

- According to the books, despite being classified as a Warlock, Merlin is able to do magic of a kind never seen before and he’s specifically noted to be different, than even the rare humans born with magical abilities.

The description specifically mentions humans with telepathy and the ability to see the future. Then says on a different line… “And then there is Merlin ...”

Which makes a lot sense when you consider that Emrys is not only the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the earth, but magic itself and immortal.

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

Bonus section: Oddly enough, Merlin is referred to as a ‘wizard’ exactly one time (Merlin Annual 2013) and it was on the page referencing Kilgharrah.

Which might have something to do with Kilgharrah’s gift of prophecy and his ability to see that in the future, Merlin is more popularly described as a wizard by the Arthurian legend and mythology.

So in the future, the name ‘Wizard’ might become the more popular title associated with Merlin due to him being portrayed as an old, wise man. While not accurate in the Middle Ages, language and terminology often changes. And a thousand years is a long time.

MAGICAL POWERS:

Very rarely, humans are born with magical abilities. Some have the gift of telepathy - the ability to speak mind to mind. Others can see the future.

And then there is Merlin ...

UNIQUE GIFT:

Before he comes to Camelot, Merlin has never been taught magic and knows no spells - yet he is able to do magic of a kind never seen before.

THE GREAT DRAGON: Kilgharrah is one of Albion's last and greatest links with the old magic.

He can see Merlin's destiny, and when he was imprisoned beneath Camelot he developed a strong relationship with the young wizard.

[kelly-thesecond]

Older!Merlin x Younger!Arthur Concept

Ok so here's Older!Merlin with Younger!Arthur like I mentioned in my last post suggesting more of this.

-------

Why was it always a hunting trip? Arthur would never admit to Merlin that he was right, but even he was starting to see the pattern of bad luck that followed them everytime that he wanted to catch some game.

In his defence, it was usually bandits. Bandits were familiar and he could handle them.

This was no bandits.

Why couldn't it have been bandits?

"What is wrong with you?!" The king demands, hitting his manservant on the head, after Merlin scared off what was a perfectly good deer.

"It was a deer! We don't need that much food! Especially not your fat ass!"

"It's muscle! You wouldn't know it because you're  a twig!"

"Better a twig than a dollophead! And I'm not as scrawny as I used to be thank you very much."

"Still look like a boy though, goes with your mental age.".

Logically, Arthur knew Merlin was a man now, he was just two years younger than himself after all. But it was hard to see sometimes, with that boyish grin that warmed his chest in ways that he wouldn't dare examine further, and how he didn't act in a way that his father had taught him a man should act. Anyhow, his father was dead, and what was a deadmans business to tell him how a man should be.

Merlin was all that mattered: smart as a whip, wise, loyal, and the bravest and kindest man he has ever met.

Of course, he was also an idiot, disrespectful, the clumsiest person in the lands and the worst manservant to ever live.

Arthur prefered to express the ladder.

And he would come to regret not having expressed the former to his manservant.

"Says the man who has to be dragged off his bed like a whiny child!"

"Well, Merlin-". Then it happened. A pained noise, that Arthur would rather not ever hear again, came from his friend as he fell to his knees and held his chest.

"What is it!? What's wrong!?" He said as he dropped his crossbow and kneeled in front of him.

"A-Arthur.", and then, because they weren't lucky enough to have been just a muscle spasm, Merlins chest started to glow. And the glow started slowly spreading throughout his body.

Arthur froze, completely lost on what to do.

"Merlin! What's happening!?"

What Merlin cursed? Was there a sorcerer nearby that he hadn't noticed? How had he not noticed anyone?

He looked around for a moment but saw no one to kill or demand answers from, and his attention was back on the glowing.

"Something important.".

Do something!! Anything!!

It wasn't like Arthur to freeze with fear, but here he was. The glowing had spread to his neck now.

"Arthur.", his name had made him look up into his friends eyes.

"It's going to be ok.". Why was Merlin comforting him?

"Idiot," he said more fondly than he entended, "I'm supposed to say that to you!".

"Do you trust me?"

He didn't freeze or hesitate with that one.

"Yes."

The glowing was in his eyes now.

"Then trust him as well.".

"Merlin!".

FLASH. A explosion of light temporarily blinds him.

It took a moment to process that he had also been thrown a few paces back.

Merlin.

Was Merlin dead?

The thought made him sick to his stomach.

After recovering, the king looked in front him.

A man, with his back turned to Arthur was standing where Merlin had been, looking around.

"What the hell have the druids done to me now!?"

That voice.

"Why must they do this? Couldn't they have just listened to me??"

Arthur decided to slowly get up and took a better look at the man. He wore a brown cloak that certainly didn't seem comfortable, leather forearm braces and curly back hair.

Was this a trick?

Arthur almost had half a mind to pull out his sword and demand answers for what the hell had just happened. But he also didn't know if he could pull a sword on Merlin, or at least someone that sounded, and talked, and felt, and looked, and moved like Merlin.

"Nooo, let's completely ignore Merlin and teleport him to God knows where without even a warnin-"

"Merlin.".

The man froze for a minute and Arthur couldn't blame him.

He slowly turned around and the king was greated with a full black beard and wide deep blue eyes he would know anywhere.

The age in his face, the broader shoulders, the diferent clothes, the black beard and hair that was longer and curled along his forehead, eyes and nape.

Everything felt unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.

This was Merlin, definitely older, but Merlin all the same.

Everything was a shock but something stood out from all the rest.

The grief in his eyes.

He had seen his manservant grieve before but this was diferent. Merlin looked like he was seeing a ghost in front of him.

"Arthur?"

Even the way he said his name.

"I-Is that you?", he has slowly gotten closer and extended his hand to touch the king's chest with his fingertips.

Soon his full palm touched his heart, as if trying to make sure Arthur was really there. The hand seemed to warm him to his core.

"Merlin?...what?", another hand rose to his cheek, wiping away a tear. When had he started crying?

And suddenly Merlin was hugging him like he thought he would vanish right there and then, and Arthur's wasn't sure if that wasn't possible, due to what had just happened.

How had they come to this?

He was considering giving up hunting.

-------

I tried my best, hope you enjoyed it.

Nothing will come out of it from me. I mean probably, I'm just not a great writer, I'm dyslexic and my english is not good enough to write full fanfics I think, but if anyone wants to pick it up they are welcome to.

Any advice or just smth about my writing is appreciated.

Also if you spot any mistakes, please tell me.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Worst Part | The Best Thing

Hihi!!!! I just started watching Merlin and was reminded of your merlin/SaSi crossover fic with Virgil and Janus? (which I do not remember the name of but enjoyed a lot even without context haha) I was wondering if you'd ever consider writing more of/a sequel to that fic? If you want to of course. - Ro

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: panic attack

Pairings: anxceit

Word Count: 2508

Janus knows Virgil has magic. He just needs to figure out what to do now.

Janus sighs, glancing up over the edge of the sheaf of paper propped in front of him to see Virgil puttering around with the last of his armor, ostensibly making sure his servant is putting things back where they're supposed to go. Really, if he stares at this speech one more time, he might go insane, and then Virgil would be the one to deal with whatever consequences that action would incur so really, he's just saving him more work in the long run. How generous of him.

Virgil. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil.

When his father forced him to pick a manservant and he avoided it for as long as he could, he had a fleeting thought that perhaps he'd be allowed to just skate by without picking one. But no, instead he'd had a truly entertaining—in hindsight, and he would only admit so in his head—fight with a peasant boy in the middle of the market one morning and then the absolute fool had managed to save his life the very next day and the King decided that, well, the universe must have spoken. Neither of them had been content at the arrangement at first, but now, well…

They've gotten used to it, let's say.

Virgil is not a typical servant. He shows almost no regard for any sort of formality or propriety—unless he's doing it on purpose to make a point, in which case he's pointing out how much disdain he really has for it—he knows almost nothing about Camelot's traditions or anything to do with how the manservant to a royal should be behaving, and he acts as though everything he's doing is only because he wants to be doing it, not because he has to do it.

Virgil is also, without a doubt, the most loyal and stupidly self-sacrificing person Janus has ever met. He throws himself in front of swords like he's wearing the most indestructible armor. He shoves himself between anyone he perceives as helpless—or in need of help—and danger at the slightest notice. He talks back to everyone, even the King when he thinks it's warranted, standing up for everyone from the lowest servants to Janus himself. For all his bluster about being upset about being stuck with Janus for the rest of this life and possibly the next, he never truly complains about what he does to actually care for him.

Janus…doesn't know what to do with that.

Had this been before the days of waking up to things thrown at him and snarky remarks tossed back and forth, he might have laughed and said that was a servant's duty. But he's known Virgil now, for years, and it's more than that. Fine, perhaps some of his points—or lectures, as they inevitably turn out to be—about servants being people to have eventually rubbed off on him, but even so, Virgil goes so far beyond what could possibly be conceived of as regular duty that it's nearly astonishing. He's never had someone care about him like this before. Not his father, who only sees him as the heir to the throne, not the other knights, who saw him as a friend—maybe, however fleeting that might have been—and then as their commander, not even the other nobles, who hold him at arm's length. No, Virgil had decided somehow that he was going to be Janus's friend, and he hasn't wavered on that decision. Not in all the time Janus has known him.

Not even with the fact that he's a sorcerer.

Yes, Janus knows. He's not blind nor stupid. He knows that branches don't just decide to swing for no reason, he knows swords don't pick themselves up and impale the nearest bandit when his back is turned, he knows dust storms don't whip up out of nowhere to distract a crowd of people just because the wind has decided to be convenient. And he's not deaf either—he can hear those mumbled things Virgil says right before his eyes flash gold—if it wasn't far more dangerous for Janus to admit he knows, he would be scolding him left and right for being so stupidly obvious about it.

But he knows why Virgil hasn't told him.

He's not that cruel or unaware to realize the difference between them is far more than just class and station. He's protected in so many ways that Virgil could never hope to be—at least not right now. Poor Virgil is terribly alone here, not just because his family is a kingdom away, but because there…isn't really anyone who can help him. Not the physician, not any of his friends, not even Janus, as much as he pains to admit it. Magic is illegal in Camelot. The punishment for sorcery is death. Janus could no sooner sentence Virgil to death than throw himself on the pyre.

Virgil might be careless with his own life, but Janus absolutely will not be.

Which is why he's watching him right now, just to make sure the fool doesn't try to do something like use magic to cheat at his chores right in front of Janus while he thinks he isn't paying attention. He's gotten a little bit smarter about it—just a little, this is still Virgil he's talking about—but still, he doesn't put it past his idiot to do something stupid the minute he lets his guard down.

That's another interesting development that he hasn't thought too much about. Since when has he started thinking of Virgil as his idiot?

Sure, technically the whole manservant thing makes Virgil his in all but blood, but that's not the same thing. Virgil has this very annoying independent streak, almost like a cat, and if he didn't want to be tamed at all, well, he wouldn't let himself be. But in the same way that Janus has found himself growing softer, more forgiving, more human since Virgil, Virgil's been letting Janus actually see him more. Sure, the idiot's still an idiot who sometimes spouts the most unique pearl of wisdom he's ever heard, but he's growing more and more into his idiot and the slope is getting more and more slippery by the day.

"You've been quiet for too long, what's wrong?"

Janus gives himself a shake. Virgil's staring at him from the other side of the bed now. "What?"

"You've been staring at me without saying anything."

"I'm not staring at you, I'm staring into space."

"Oh, well, then why are you staring into space?"

"I'm thinking."

"You know how bad that is for you."

Janus balls up a sheet of paper and throws it at him. Virgil dodges it effortlessly and looks down with disdain.

"Now you're giving me more work!"

"It's a single piece of paper, are you truly so lazy that picking up a singular piece of paper is an insurmountable workload?"

"I'll show you insurmountable workload," Virgil mutters under his breath as he stoops to pick up the paper. Conveniently, he moves out of the way of the mirror, which enables Janus to see the stupid, fond smile on his face and he quickly schools his expression into one of annoyance. "How's the speech coming?"

"Why, eager to read it for me?"

"Eager to see if the steward's been having any luck getting you to actually make a point instead of blustering on for two rolls of parchment."

"I'll have you know I've been a bench marker for eloquence for years."

"Yeah, I forgot that they need to make measurements for the low end too."

"Oh, like you'd be able to do better? You roll your eyes at every bard that comes into the great hall to perform."

"Yeah, 'cause they're all suck-ups who glorify things that don't need to be glorified or money-grubbers that try to turn a profit off of the human art of storytelling. I don't scoff at real bards who actually know what they're doing."

Janus blinks. "We've had every single famous bard this side of—"

"You know they're the ones who decide who's famous enough to be a royal bard, don't you? You and all the other royals, who end up picking the bards that are the nicest to them and not the ones that actually have any sort of reliable talent."

Silently, Janus might concede that point. Half of the bards they've had recently are shoddy musicians at best. Out loud, however, he says, "you can just admit you've never had a penchant for music."

"I like music!"

"You like bawdy tavern songs that you can sing while drunk, that's not the same as liking music."

Virgil's ears turn red and he disappears into a flood of furious muttering as he busies himself with another chore. Ah, yes, the tavern. The greatest lie the two of them tell regularly and the one that Janus is going to poke at until Virgil admits he doesn't so much as know where the tavern is. He's not sure why the physician is truly so abysmal at lying—well, yes, he does—but he does know that Virgil is a lot of things, but a drunkard isn't one of them.

Still, perhaps it affords Virgil some cover. If the rest of court believes his manservant to be a drunken fool, then Virgil can get away with mouthing off and talking back the amount he does for it'll be dismissed as the ramblings of a sloshed idiot. And for that, well, Janus is happy to play along.

"Seriously, is everything alright?" He blinks to see Virgil's staring at him again, concern naked on his face. "You've not been—you're—what's wrong?"

"How eloquent of you."

"Janus."

What he should say is something like I'm allowed to think in the privacy of my own chambers. Or it's adorable that you care so much about me. Or don't you have chores to do?

What he absolutely, positively should not say is: "I know you have magic."

But that's what comes out of his mouth, and he watches Virgil turn white so quickly it's like he's turning into a ghost right in front of him. He stands quickly, worried Virgil's about to faint, only to cry out when Virgil drops the basket and bolts.

"Virgil!"

He manages to catch him just before he makes it to the door, arms wrapped around his torso, but Virgil flails and thrashes like a gasping fish and Janus grunts when fists manage to hit his ribs. Virgil not trying to hurt him, he realizes with no small amount of relief, he's just trying to get away, but Janus can't let him. Not until he fixes this. He ends up wrestling him down—which is much harder than he'd anticipated—and all but pinning him to the floor.

"Virgil! Virgil," he calls, trying frantically to get Virgil to just look at him, "Virgil, calm down, it's okay, it's alright, I'm not angry."

Virgil's eyes are so wide he's worried they'll fall right out of his head. His breath is coming in short, sharp pants. He's nearly frothing at the mouth.

"Sweetie," Janus murmurs, "sweetie, it's okay. It's okay, I promise. Shh, shh, you need to breathe, sweetie, shh…"

"J—Janus—Janus—I—I—"

"Hush, sweetie, shh, it's okay—I'm sorry, I shouldn't have sprung it on you like that, shh, don't fight me, don't fight me, you're going to hurt yourself." He squeezes Virgil's wrists, leans down to press their foreheads together. "I'm sorry, don't be so afraid, please, just—just calm down."

Virgil is not calming down. He's crying now, which is worse, so much worse, and Janus can't help but wrap him up in his arms and pull him close, head sobbing into the crook of his neck and his whole body shaking. Gods, Virgil's shaking, he must be so afraid…

No wonder. He's just had a secret that could get him killed revealed by one of the people responsible for upholding the laws that say so. He closes his eyes and tucks Virgil into the lea of him.

"Don't fret," he whispers, "don't fret, I'm not going to turn you in, I'm not going to arrest you, I'm not going to execute you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, sweetie, I didn't mean to frighten you. You're right, you're always right when it comes to be not thinking before I do things. I'm sorry."

"No fire," Virgil pleads, "no fire, you can—you can do it any other way, just please—"

"I'm not going to have you killed, you fool," he says in a rush, his own chest twisting at the mere thought of it, "you're not going anywhere. I forbid it."

That, more than anything, seems to cut through the worst of Virgil's panic. He pulls back just enough to let Virgil look at him, see that he's telling the truth, before his eyes well up with a different sort of tears and he's letting out a comforting noise before he realizes it.

"Oh, you poor thing," he whispers, pulling him back in for a proper cuddle, "don't worry, I'm not about to let you get hurt. It's alright."

"It's—it's for you," comes the hoarse response, "my magic, it's only—it's only for you."

"You fool," he murmurs, affection lacing every word, "what about you?"

"You—you're always saying I should trust—should trust you to take care of me—"

Janus squeezes him tighter. "Of course I'll take care of you, you stupid idiot. That's my job. Oh, Virgil, I'm so sorry…we'll repeal the ban on magic, I swear it."

Now Virgil well and truly sobs, this time out of relief, and Janus can't help the smile spreading across his face as Virgil goes limp in his arms. He closes his eyes and soaks in the relief of it himself, of having Virgil heavy and secure in his arms, of having him trust him enough to hold him like this, his idiot sorcerer of a manservant who somehow tricked his way into becoming the most important person in Janus's life.

At some point, they'll get up off the floor, Virgil will go to bring them dinner—because he's going to make Virgil eat, that fool doesn't eat nearly enough as he should if Janus can feel his ribs right now—and Janus is going to start drafting repeals on magic bans. They're going to tease each other, make fun of each other, and piss off his father so much he might rise from the dead about it. And then, when Virgil is safe, they're going to have a long conversation about other things too.

For now, Janus is going to sit here and hold his idiot while he cries and make sure that he never doubts how much Janus will do to take care of him. Can't have himself one-upped by an idiot, can he?

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[georgies-ftts]

just another Merlin headcanon/fic idea that i may or may not write… (AU: Post canon/nobody dies, Arthur knows about Merlin’s magic but not quite what Merlin does for Camelot in his spare time)

Merlin and Arthur have been teetering around each other since the Battle. Arthur showing a more protective and outwardly caring side to the younger man. Merlin leaving lingering touches and soft glances whenever he’s able, defending Arthur more openly and strongly to those he never would’ve dared to before.

The Knights have bets on their relationship. Leon is winning. Gwaine is in debt. Percival wants to rip his hair out, Lancelot and Eylan are secretly betting on Gwaine going bankrupt before Merlin and Arthur even admit their feelings out loud.

After a particularly close encounter with his servant, soon to be court sorcerer, Arthur finally works up the courage to ask Merlin if he feels the same as he does, to tell Merlin that marrying for an heir is what the court want, he wants to marry for love, and he loves Merlin.

He asks Merlin, by a letter that he thinks gives a clear light to his intentions, to meet him outside the castle, in a spot they sometimes sit at together when the days have been long and stressful. The spot where the moonlight shines brightly over the flowers and the grass is somehow soft year round and in the summer a small refreshing cross breeze is created by the way the trees are sprayed out scarcely before them.

But Merlin never shows and Arthur feels embarrassed, hurt, somehow more betrayed than when Merlin revealed the gold dragon within the flames of the fire but he understands that Merlin must’ve read Arthur’s intentions loud and clear and saved him the mortifying rejection of his manservant. So instead he turns to avoiding Merlin, that seeing him after the clear rejection would only send him into a spiral so he tries his best to stay away.

However he notices that, despite his effort to avoid him, he hasn’t seen the sorcerer anywhere at all, his chores untouched, a dreadful feeling that hasn’t been there until that morning fills the air. It’s obvious the others within the castle feel it too.

Arthur turns to the knights, questioning if they have seen Merlin, if he is okay and well, but they have not seen him and that only causes Arthur to panic more.

He sends the guards to search the castle, the stables, Gwens house, even the small opening by the lake where Merlin traipses off to when he’s feeling rough, when he’s hiding. But he’s never gone this long.

He orders them to tear Camelot apart if they have too.

But he’s found in none of those places.

Instead Merlin and Gwaine find him, bloody, broken and shivering beneath the castle where he hasn’t been able to move himself for the past two days even calling for help had been pointless so far below the occupied layers of the castle.

Merlin is rushed to Gauis as he his eyes flutter and Arthur can do nothing but sit and panic as Merlin’s wounds are tended too.

Once he is awake and competent Arthur sits beside his cot and, though it feels wrong too, he questions him deeply, his voice tremors and his fingers shake but he does it anyway.

And Merlin tells him everything, how he received the letter and his heart almost gave up on itself at the thought of alone time with the King, how he’d been sneaking around near the stores, trying to find a bottle of wine or two just before their meeting so they could truly relax after a stressful council meeting and had caught the assassin that had been snooping low in the castle. A poisoned dagger strapped to his belt.

He had been strong and relentless and had nearly left Merlin with less than his life but Merlin had fought for Arthur and he had won, even if he ended the scrap with blood coating his body and an ache in his ribs that made him hiss and cough with each movement.

That even before Arthur knew about his magic this had been a large part of his daily life, to keep Arthur safe and to never let him know just how much it hurt him, how much it broke him. He jokes that he doesn’t even know where the tavern is.

But Arthur echos that now he doesn’t need to hide, he can ask for help, and he will receive it.

Then Arthur realises that Merlin truly had no idea what he was going to ask him and he knows that if he doesn’t do it now he won’t ever be able too again.

So he asks.

And Merlin replies.

[allwaswell16]

Incredibly unimportant fic request, but do you know of any merlin/Arthur focused ones? Alternatively I'd just take medieval fantasyish

Hi, anon...so since there aren't tons of these I'll just give you what I found here on your ask, and also I'll link you to my Medieval fic rec in case you want to check that out as well <3

🌸 Medieval Fics

Truth Behind Golden Eyes by MyEnglishRose / @lwtisloved

Louis is a royal servant born with magic in a kingdom where his sole existence is outlawed with a war he has no idea he has a part in upon him. Harry is the prince on whom the burden of mending a broken kingdom falls upon and he might be willing to risk it all for a simple servant if only he admitted it to himself.

Or. A Fantasy AU loosely inspired by Merlin BBC where one relationship has the power to define the destiny of the whole land.

I've Seen How You Sparkle by orphan_account

Their eyes locked again and Harry blushed, suddenly feeling shy. Louis just smiled at him, tilting his head a little as his eyes ran over the younger boy. Harry self-consciously placed his arm over his stomach, afraid that Louis would somehow see through his clothes and notice the druid mark on his right hip. It was a triple spiral, a triskele. Although it wasn’t that big and fairly easy to hide, Harry was always paranoid that he would maybe stretch too much and reveal the mark.

It wasn’t that he actually believed Louis would have him executed, but he knew Louis was fiercely loyal to his father. If it came to choosing between Harry and his father, Harry was honestly not sure what Louis would do.

Or Louis is the Crown Prince of Camelot and Harry is a druid hiding his magic. It would have been a lot easier if he didn't also have to deal with a forbidden love, a dangerous quest and a whole lot of trouble.

Up On The Shore by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

Magic has been outlawed on Eroda ever since President Cowell came into power, and all the magic people had to go live on the island of Stonell. Things are not looking good for Harry when he finds out he's a magician and his abilities seem more and more out of control. Thankfully, his best friend Niall's mother has the idea to put him in touch with Louis, a magician boy living on Stonell. They begin a secret correspondence and drama ensues.

Or: Louis hides his feelings under sarcasm, Harry is too sweet for his own sake, everyone is a rebel, the mums are amazing, Harry's dad is a jerk, and I'm struggling to make it understandable without using normal narration.

Had Enough of Silly Love Spells by learnthemusic

“Why would you give him a potion?”

The more Harry received the question, the more he wondered what his intentions had truly been. He knew—had done from the moment he got embroiled in that first romantic saga of Kidan the blacksmith—that tampering with the heart was dangerous. It was too fickle to contain with a spell, no matter how arduous or simple.

Yet he’d gone against his own intuition, and now he was sat in the kitchens with Niall, whose latest conquest was Lottie’s newest maid and who never had any decent advice to offer him when it came to Louis. How was he getting out of this one?

A Merlin AU in which Harry, Court Sorcerer, slips a love potion into King Louis' sleeping draught in hopes of awakening his true feelings for Harry. It goes wrong and Harry puzzles over how to get things back to how they used to be.

you're a king by orphan_account

“and god, this is how louis is going to die. they'll write stories about him. the prince who died because harry styles is an idiot.”

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! Thank you all for your support for the "Arthur misunderstands what a warlock is" au! Here's part two! You can find part one here!

As a quick recap, is this au Uther spread propaganda that warlocks were soul-eating demons in order to justify killing young warlocks. When Merlin finally reveals his magic to Arthur, Arthur's fairly chill with it, up until he realizes that Merlin's a warlock. Then, Arthur thinks that Merlin needs to eat souls in order to survive, and orders Merlin to kill a prisoner who was going to be executed the next day to make sure that Merlin was "fed".

And without further ado, on to the new stuff!

In the days following the... meal that Arthur had provided him, Merlin still wasn't looking any better, much to Arthur's dismay. Arthur agonized over the situation for many nights, unable to come up with any solution. They didn't have any criminals currently being held in the dungeons, and there weren't many bandits left in the woods for Merlin to feed on.

However, despite Merlin still looking tired and restless in the days following his "meal", he started to slowly look better after a week had passed, so Arthur, with a heavy heart, counted his plan as a success. Eating the criminal's soul really had reinvigorated Merlin, and wasn't that just terrible? As guilty and sick as Arthur felt about the whole situation, he could only imagine how Merlin had felt, carrying this burden for his entire life.

Merlin was such a gentle and kind soul, crying over unicorns and sick kittens! Arthur knew that this terrible burden must haunt Merlin like nothing else, being forced to devour the souls of others in order to keep himself alive.

Based on his observations over the past months, Arthur could see that Merlin never went actively hunting for prey, only waiting until an enemy of Camelot showed up for him to quietly dispatch. Arthur could see plainly that Merlin would rather starve than seek out a meal, and that most certainly was a problem.

Arthur wasn't sure what would happen if Merlin starved himself, if he would either lose control over himself and devour whatever poor souls he could find or would simply weaken and wither away, but Arthur wasn't keen on seeing such a thing happen. Merlin seemed to be able to go several weeks in between feedings, and there generally was one execution a month with how many bandits, assassins, and vengeful sorcerers came to Camelot, so if he...

Arthur swallowed dryly as guilt and self-disgust welled up in this throat. He... he didn't want to do this. Hell, he knew that Merlin surely wouldn't want to do this, even if it is for his sake!

But what other choice did he have? As awful as it was to admit it, Merlin's life meant far more to Arthur than any enemy's soul. If Merlin wasn't going to actively seek out souls, then Arthur had to hand them over to him, whether Merlin liked it or not.

Meanwhile, Merlin wasn't having a very good time.

He had thought that he was prepared for any negative reaction from Arthur to the news of his magic. And Arthur had been so accepting of Merlin's magic when they finally sat down together and talked about everything! Arthur had even become accustomed to seeing Merlin use magic for his chores! Arthur was comfortable with him, magic and all!

But Merlin had been so, so naive and hopeful. He had hoped that showing Arthur the softer, more mundane uses of magic would give him a new perspective on magic, teaching him that magic was not just the fearsome weapon that Arthur had been raised and conditioned to view it as.

And Merlin had thought that he was doing so well. Arthur didn't so much as bat an eye when Merlin used magic to scrub the floors or polish his armor! Arthur was comfortable with eating magically-heated food and sleeping in clothes covered in protection enchantments!

Arthur was clearly still comfortable with Merlin, and he still trusted Merlin! Merlin had shown him the softer side of magic, and yet...

Yet Arthur had taken him down into the dungeons and ordered him to execute a prisoner with his magic.

Arthur had looked him dead in the eyes and told him to kill the imprisoned noble in cold blood, and then was too disgusted with Merlin to even watch as his loyal manservant carried out his orders, harshly twisting the noble's neck with a simple spell.

Merlin couldn't fall asleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes, he either saw the noble's blank, dead stare or, even worse, Arthur's stern expression as he ordered Merlin to take a life with his magic.

It wasn't the first time Merlin had killed someone with his magic, not by far, but it was the first time he had done so outside of battle, on an unarmed enemy. It was the first time he had killed on Arthur's orders, and he wasn't sure who he was more disappointed in: Arthur or himself.

But the worst part of it all was that it proved Merlin wrong: he hadn't made as much progress with improving Arthur's opinion of magic as he had thought.

Arthur clearly still thought of magic and now, by extension, Merlin himself as a weapon, one that could be harnessed against his enemies. One that had been used against his enemies for years, without his knowledge.

Merlin felt helplessly stuck. He had done all he could to show Arthur how wonderful magic could be, yet the only use Arthur saw for it was as an executioner's blade!

Was that truly the only use Arthur saw for Merlin now that he knew the truth? The very thought of it hurt, it made Merlin want to curl up on his bed and sob and never have to face the world ever again.

Still, despite Arthur ordering Merlin to execute a man with his magic, Merlin persisted in his efforts to show Arthur the more wonderous side of magic. He doubled down on showing Arthur all of the useful littler enchantments that he knew and all of the beautiful things he could create with his magic.

And once again, for several weeks Merlin had thought that he was making progress! That was, until an assassin targeting Arthur was caught by the knights and sentenced to die the next day.

That night, when Arthur sent for Merlin, he knew exactly what Arthur wanted.

Once again, Merlin slowly followed Arthur down to the dungeons, he was fighting tears the entire way down. Was this supposed to be his punishment for lying to Arthur for ten years? Forcing him to commit atrocities with the magic he was trying so hard to show was not a thing to be feared?

Arthur slowly led him to the same cell as before, with the assassin tied to a chair in the middle, just as the noble had been. Merlin turned to Arthur with tears in his eyes, only to be met with grim determination from his king.

"Please," he nearly sobbed out, hoping his friend would take pity on him, "please, I don't want to do this. My mag- I'm not meant to do this. This is not what I was made for, what I was born to do."

Merlin thought that he saw tears gathering in Arthur's eyes as well for a split second, but they were gone in an instant, replaced with cold determination.

"I know that you don't want to do this, but despite what any of us may wish, this is what you are meant to do, Merlin. You must do this."

Merlin lowered and shook his head slowly, unable, or perhaps unwilling, to process the awful things that Arthur was saying. How could he possibly think that? He really did think so low of Merlin that he would claim all Merlin was good for was for, all his magic was good for, was senseless violence.

"No, Arthur, I won't- I can't do this!"

Merlin looked up again, ready to plead with Arthur, to try and make him see reason, only to see Arthur at the door of the cell, blocking the only exit.

"I'm sorry, Merlin." Arthur's voice was thick with sorrow and remorse, and Merlin didn't know why. Why was Arthur doing this? Why would he feel so remorseful over something that was completely unnecessary?! Merlin stared at his friend in shock and disbelief as Arthur cleared his throat and spoke again.

"I'm sorry, but you need to do this. Neither of us are leaving until it's done."

Merlin choked back more sobs and slowly turned to face the prisoner, wondering how Arthur could be so cruel.

Merlin made the deed itself quick, not wanting to make this any longer than it needed to be for everyone involved. A simple flash of gold in his eyes, and the assassin was dead.

Merlin was unable to sleep that night, too haunted by the anger in Arthur's eyes to find any rest.

What was perhaps even more disturbing for Merlin was Arthur's insistence on still acting normal, like nothing was wrong at all, in the days following the execution. Arthur's willful avoidance of the topic was confusing and frustrating in equal amounts.

Still, Merlin continued serving Arthur. He had to hold out hope that things would get better, that Arthur would learn that magic was more than just violence. What other choice did he have? He had gotten this far with his destiny, he couldn't stop now, not when they were so close to the golden age!

The weeks went on, and Merlin thought he saw more improvement in Arthur's opinion of magic, but doubt was always present. Merlin held his breath now whenever Arthur sentenced criminals, praying that none of them would be sentenced to execution, as he knew what would happen next.

However, as more weeks went by and no executions were scheduled, Merlin slowly let himself relax. Perhaps Arthur had seen reason after all!

Merlin carried this hope with him into the spring, which brought with it more frequent hunting trips and patrols. And when he and Arthur went on a hunting trip or a patrol, trouble was always found.

In their current situation, "trouble" took the form of an angry Sidhe, which still held a grudge against Merlin for murdering two of their own and ruining their plans to take over Camelot.

The good news was that Merlin was able to beat the Sidhe, banishing it back to Avalon. The bad news was that the Sidhe had managed to land a rather powerful spell on Merlin, which left him with several broken bones and various injuries.

Merlin groaned where he laid prone on the ground, glad to see that everyone else was unharmed, but unable to ignore the pain burning throughout his body. Anyone else would have probably died from his injuries, but even now he could feel his magic mending his bones and flesh. But despite his magic already trying to heal him, everything hurt like hell.

As Merlin tried to sit up, Arthur rushed over to his side, supporting him as his back protested his every movement. Merlin smiled at Arthur gratefully, trying to alleviate his friend's worry, but he soon became concerned that Arthur took a blow to the head while fighting, as Arthur started rambling nonsense at him.

"Merlin! You haven't eaten in week! It's no wonder you got so hurt, you've been starving yourself you idiot! You... you'll recover, right? You have enough energy and magic to heal yourself?"

Merlin groaned in pain as he tried to make sense of what Arthur was saying. What did it mater how long it had been since he ate?

"I- I can recover, yes. My magic is doing all it can for me right now, but it'll be slow. I'll probably be fine, I've come back from worse."

Merlin tried to give Arthur his most reassuring grin, but Arthur only paled further.

"But you were... you say that your magic is doing all that it can, but it can't fully heal you right now, can it? You need..."

Merlin watched, confused, as Arthur paused to blink back tears. What on earth was going on?

"You need to eat, Merlin. And there's no- there's no bandits, no assassins, no criminals anywhere around for us to use but you need one!"

Merlin just stared at Arthur, still unable to grasp what was going on. He glanced behind Arthur at the knights, and while Gwaine, Elyan, and Percival looked just as lost as he felt, all of the other knights looked upon Merlin and Arthur with looks of shocked horror.

"Arthur, what are you-"

"No, this needs to be done. Merlin, Camelot needs you. I know that we face much adversity despite accepting magic now, and Camelot needs its greatest protector. There will only ever be one Emrys. But a king? A king is replaceable. Should I fall, Gwen will take my place, and I have np doubts that she will be a fair, just, and wise sovereign for Camelot.

It is fitting, as I have condemned others to this fate for the sake of my kingdom, that I should bare the same end."

"What are you even talking about?! Did you hit your head while I wasn't looking?"

Arthur shook his head, tears now flowing freely down his cheeks. Yup, Merlin decided, Arthur definitely had a concussion. He'd have to get Gaius to check him over once they returned to Camelot.

"No, Merlin, please stop denying the situation. You need a soul to eat if you're going to recover, and I am offering you my own!"

Merlin blinked, wondering if perhaps he was the one that had a concussion instead of Arthur. Because there was no way that he had heard that correctly.

Following Arthur's tearful outburst, Leon rushed forwards, grabbing ahold of a weeping Arthur's shoulders. Good, Merlin thought, Leon was a very sensible man, he would surely make Arthur see reason!

"No, sire! You can't! The kingdom needs you just as much as it needs Merlin! I will offer myself in your place! Merlin, you must take my soul instead!"

... Or not.

Had everyone hit their heads? Perhaps the Sidhe had cast some madness-inducing spell before he had banished it? And why were they going on about souls?

"Hold on now, what are talking about? Why would I be taking anyone's soul?"

Leon and Arthur stared blankly at him, as if he was the one spewing nonsense, until Leon cleared his throat and responded in a hesitant voice, "But... but isn't that how warlocks like you fuel their powers?"

There was a brief pause as the air held still before Merlin finally forced words past his dumbfounded lips.

"YOU IDIOTS THOUGHT I DID WHAT?!"

And that's a wrap on this au for now! Thank you all for your support and your patience! This turned out to be much longer than I anticipated!

A big thank you to everyone who requested this continuation! I'll try to tag you all here, my apologizes if I forget anyone, there were quite a few of you! @veryroadpartystatesman-blog, @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu, @that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction, @keitorin3, @chaosofbelievers, @stateofdreaming14, @melodymeddler, @arrowlovesdragons, @notquitehumanwrites, @caraspud, @ikol-art, @linotheghost, @murder-drones-4ever, @error-username-not-available, @theroundbartable, @magicalmischel, @skatercashew, @xxv2axx, @tobythetrashytrash, @auldsusie, @everything-but-the-not-natural, @ramadiiiisme, @idk-anymore-mydudes, @tamaha, @kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick, @merthurogies

Once again, thank you all for exploring this au with me! I'll be back soon with a new au idea! Until next time!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

[tora-the-cat]

Concept: Mordred. Defaults to gaslighting people about his magic. Fullstop, he will not hesitate to make the boldest claims. He will never admit to anything, he's never met a problem he can't solve by triplling down and giving a slightly bemused frown when questioned.

Fool proof strategy. He just used magic in front of you? No he didn't. He is ACTIVELY using magic? No he's not. Do you need some water? A lie down? It's awful hot lately, heat waves do strange things to your senses. 

How did he know about that magical threat? He didn't, he just kind of guessed. There's no WAY he guessed that, it's basically impossible? What do you mean, of course he guessed. If he didn't guess, then how does he know? That's what YOU were asking HIM? Well it's just good luck, what else could it be? Why would HE know why his luck is that uncannily good?

Look at me. Look me in the eyes. He will convince people he doesn't know he has magic before he admits to having magic. He actually doesn't know what magic is, or he doesn't really belive in people being able to wield it. Someone tries to explain it and he laughs and claims that they're just trying to scare him off from being a knight, everyone knows sorcerers aren't real. If you insist they are he tells you to prove it. If you point out that he was found in one of Morgana's camps, he will blink his big baby blues at you and ask what Morgana has to do with anything?

The Druid mark? What Druid mark? No, like, what are you talking about? I'm sure I'd remember getting a- oh you meant my birthmark? Why would you call it a- what was it again? Druid- what even is a druid? They....Magic? What's- you mean like a priest? Miracles? No?? Well then what do you mean.

Merlin will accidently get sorta-caught by Mordred and like Elyan saving their ass and Elyan will try to confront him and Merlin will stumble over himself and try to laugh it off and start to panic when that doesn't work and Elyan turns around and goes 'right, Mordred? You saw, you were even closer then I was.' and Mordred will look him dead in the eyes, sorta confused and a bit concerned, and ask if Elyan perhaps. Hit his head in the fight? 

Mordred is very very very "oh, witness? No, no I didn't see anything. Matter of fact, I'm blind in my left eye. and I'm 43 percent blind, in my right eye, I don't see much of nothin, matter of fact I can't even see you, Ma'am."

[like-sands-of-time]

Do you think the writers realized that the way Gaius was flipping back and forth between "Merlin you're overreacting/seeing things that aren't there/trying to change the future" and "Merlin the situation is dire/this is definitely what's happening/you alone must do this ~dangerous~ thing"

Combined with the way he is a known sorcerer, not only to the court but to the king, kept like the other magical artifacts for times of injury to the royal family that his magic might be useful

Combined with the way this man picks and chooses when to help magic users escape Camelot unharmed or when to stand by and see them captured/killed

Combined with the way he gaslights the shit out of morgana even after he knows Merlin and Morgana know of her powers

That it All equates to a massively manipulative person????? He's doing everything he can to survive, damn the very real shit going on around him. Oh what's the best course of action for another child of magic born to the same lady Vivienne who's first child you snuck out of camelot? Keep her in the dark, keep her fearful and unaware of her dreams and her powers, but yeah she's Evil now because she chooses to see the good in magic and the evil in the king for killing it (which is just another plot issue but whatever nows not the time).

We can only imagine what Camelot looked like in the days of the dragons and all other magic kind, probably a lot healthier, more vibrant, more prosperous. Nevermind that Gaius got to spend his whole youth with that prosperity, Morgana (and Merlin) surely can't miss something she never had!!!!!!!!!!!

And Merlin! Sure he takes Hunith and Balinor's boy in, because he needs an apprentice, because the circumstances line up, because destiny, whatever the reason. And he cares about Merlin's life enough to sacrifice himself multiple times (only because Merlin is Emrys the god among men, immortal, sworn to serve Arthur the once and future king for all of time) But he does not really help Merlin in the following ten years. The boy who came to Camelot, the opinions he held, the care he had for others, that boy is lost or warped more like through years of Gaius' (and Kilgharrah before they just like changed his personality) careful commentary undermining Merlins beliefs and changing his actions. Then when said actions obviously work out poorly(think, self fulfilling prophecy episodes, episodes where Merlin is convinced to outright lie to Arthur's face, etc) then it's Merlins fault and Gaius is there to comfort him and then they share a funny little moment and everything's fine !!!

Like, did the writers mean to write it like this because ho-ly shit! That's how it reads every single episode. Merlin the young warlock would not have done these things. The boy he was in season one? When confronted with admitting his magic(the thing he was so self conscious of, but so proud of at the same time) or lying to Arthur to his face he would have spoken the truth. Gaius (and Kilgharrah) turned him into a man deceitful manipulative tool, bent on controlling Arthur without ever telling him the truth and letting him make his own mind.

Because that Arthur, the Arthur of season one, would have taken in the knowledge of both Merlin his friend, and morgana his sister, and stood up for them, helped keep them safe, accepted them and their magic. That Arthur clearly loved morgana and Merlin above all else, even though he struggled with saying it, he proved it in his actions. Merlin (through his mentors) TURNs Arthur from magic, when he was willing to save Mordred, willing to sympathize with magic users, to see their worth, to spare them if they did not commit crimes, willing to accept the help of a foreign mage in the caves, and willing to question his father To!! His !! Face!! About the knights code.

You're telling me Merlin would forget about these things, would lie to Arthur that Morgause lied, when he could have just said, hey she showed you your mum, but killing your dad isn't the answer. How FUCKING hard would that have been? This show made Merlin a bad guy, a man against his own kind. that's the real tragedy. Merlin, emrys, would never do these things in season one. He had to be convinced by his mum not to tell Arthur after will died. He was willing to share. The show themselves didn't want it, because it provided comedy(how does Arthur not see!!1!) And angst (how does Arthur not see !?!)

[queerofthedagger]

hey, mona! saw your December gift ficlet post <3

how do you feel about dialogue prompt 44 for merthur? 👀

Ahh hey Fyre, thanks for the prompt!! I think it might've got a little softer than intended, but I hope you'll like it! <3

Fortune Favours the Bold

“If you die, I am going to kill you,” Merlin says as he checks the buckles of Arthur’s breastplate for the third time.

Arthur would be more exasperated if it wasn’t the first tournament since his coronation. The mourning period had been followed by winter, and once spring came around, he had been rather busy with the revelation that his manservant was, in fact, a sorcerer. Or warlock, actually—Merlin still fusses, so what does it matter, really.

“Such trust in me,” Arthur teases regardless, rolling his eyes. “I’ll be fine; it’s a friendly tournament, not a match to the death.”  

“You’ve said that about approximately every other tournament, too, and half of those did end with attempts on your life, so—”

“And yet, here I am. Thanks to you.”

It still isn’t easy to admit these things, but Arthur has been trying to be better about it; once he got beyond the sharp burn of betrayal and secrets, the magnitude of how much he has to thank Merlin for hit him like a punch.

If the slight wrinkling of Merlin’s nose is anything to go by, he can tell. It is pathetic, really, how a gesture so small threatens to make Arthur’s heart burst out of his chest.

“Yes, well, you could still be careful,” Merlin says, his fingers pressed to the buckle sitting over Arthur’s heart. “Make my job easier and all that.”

He is smiling, though, and Arthur swallows. He had been meaning to wait a little longer, to let them settle back into their lives, let Merlin get used to his new role, but—

But. Arthur has never been a patient man, and if he has learnt one thing through all his years as a knight, it’s that all you ever have for certain is the moment you’re living in.

He has never been a patient man, but he does pride himself on his bravery; this might just be the most courage he has ever needed to scrap together for anything.

Curling his fingers into Merlin’s neckerchief, he tugs lightly. “I might not let you put enchantments on my armour for tournaments—and I know that you ignored that order—but how about something to bring me luck?”

Merlin blinks at him, lips parted slightly, and Arthur forces himself not to step away, not to turn this into a joke and laugh it off (and regret it for the rest of his life, because he would. Inevitably, he would).

“Arthur—”

“A favour. You’re familiar with the concept, I know you are.”

In the dim light of the tent, he can see Merlin swallow, his eyes dark.

Outside, the horns blare, and it seems to finally startle Merlin out of his shock.

There is still a question lingering in his eyes, but he is beginning to smile, too, happiness unfurling slow but certain.

“Alright,” he murmurs, fingers trembling as he unties his neckerchief.

Arthur’s throat is dry as he watches Merlin wrap it carefully around his arm, the red fitting snugly against the colours of his armour and cloak.

“There you go,” Merlin says, sounding hoarse.

They are still standing too close, and the air is bristling between them.

Arthur inhales, and squeezes Merlin’s wrist between them. He exhales and says, “Thank you; see you on the other side?”

Merlin laughs, the tension breaking. Arthur can tell, though, that something has shifted between them yet again.

It is hard to say whether it is less or more terrifying than the last few months; it is as simple as breathing to know that they will be alright.

✨December Gift-Ficlets ✨