#excalibur posting will continue. sorry not sorry.

[hal-o-ween]

The way she holds Lockheed in this panel is so cute, he's like a cat

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Cast: Black Knight Amy

Replaces: Pavitr Prabhakr / Spider-Man India Made by: @sstorminghearts; idea by @jackattack90909

Art by sstorminghearts

"Nobody can truly achieve perfection, Caliburn. Mistakes are simply part of who we are, and nobody can make no mistakes. And what we learn from our mistakes is what makes us who we are and helps us grow as people. Well, that's how I can see it, anyway."

You can find the official reference and story for Black Knight Amy in the post linked above, and be sure to follow sstorminghearts' account. They deserve the attention for creating such an amazing concept! I'll simply sum up what was mentioned on the post here before describing her involvement here.

So basically, after Merlina's spell to revive her grandfather accidentally corrupted the Knights of the Round Table, she casted a summoning spell to bring a hero to help save the land. Normally, this would be Sonic, but this time, it was Amy who got dragged into the chaos.

Using the magical "Amulets of the Lake" Merlina granted her, which have the ability to control the Misty Lakes and their magic, she helped purify the kingdom while Merlina taught her how to use this magic to her benefit, all whilst Caliburn watched from the shadows so as not to be spotted.

This time around, Merlina STAYS a pure bean right to the end of this journey. However this time, it's Caliburn that wanted to cause a nasty change once all the Knights and King Arthur were purified. He waited until the last moment to unite with the scabbard and become a corrupted version of Excalibur.

To him, Merlina is imperfect because of her mistake, and anyone who makes mistakes is a threat to his idea of a "perfect" kingdom. He wished to wipe out Camelot and rebuild it from scratch to erase all imperfections, but thankfully, Amy and Merlina put a stop to his plans, teaching him that everyone is flawed and that imperfections are just part of who we are.

During the big explosion in More than One Universe, Amy felt this presence that was calling her to continue protecting worlds beyond hers and Camelot. And so, she re-equipped her Amulets and set out to use them to assist in protecting the OMT universe from harm.

She's also one of those who lacks a "canon event" due to never really losing anyone close to her, especially due to her branching from the official Sonic canon. Following the OMT universe being saved, she became the eighth official member of the Blur Gang thanks to her help overall.

I'm not sure if her and Sonic are a thing yet back in their universe, but who knows? Though she might be crushing more on her Honey as time is going on.

In future stories, it's shown that Amy is REALLY not a fan of the "Department of Redundancy Department" trope, like when people say terms like "PIN number", "naan bread" or "chai tea" in her hearing range, akin to Pavitr disliking it, alongside Indian stereotypes. OMT!Tails, Sleet AND Crimtake all end up falling afoul of this at different points by complete accident.

OMT!Tails: Chai tea, huh? BK!Amy: Tails! "Chai" means "tea"! It's like you're saying "tea tea"! Would I ask you for a "coffee coffee" with a side of "cream cream"? O-Oh! Sorry, heh. Got a little carried away there. (Many More Heroes case) Crimtake: I'm on a journey of, er... self-improvement! Yeah, that's it. BK!Amy: And you came to Shamar of all places to do so? Are you trying to invoke one of those Western culture clichés, or something? Crimtake: Wait, nonono! That isn't what I meant! BK!Amy: So, what next? You're gonna ask me about saffron? Or cardamom? Or "naan bread", the exact same way of saying "bread bread" or trying to say "chai tea"? Crimtake: Ooh, I love chai tea! BK!Amy: NOT YOU TOO!!!

In Many More Heroes, she ended up almost being forced into a sadistic choice; helping save a train her Sonic was helping out, saving Merlina from an oncoming storm, or saving a little girl from harm's way. Under normal circumstances, this would've caused her "canon event", but OMT!Tails being there to help put this right by ensuring all three of them could split the responsibilities evenly.

This brave act got BK!Amy closer to OMT!Tails and more inspired to help him stop LM!Sonic and Crimtake and defy the canon expectations. And even after that, she was happy to be on hand to help save the day with the rest of the Blur Gang, feeling more and more renewed with each passing day.

If you have any questions related to Black Knight Amy, be sure to ask sstorminghearts about it, since they know more about the character than I do.

[tathrin]

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about? ✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

Well, I don't have the very first stories I wrote on a computer anymore because they died when the old family desktop did, but I have brought all my files along with me ever since I got my own laptop for college, so let's go have a peek in my oldest folders...

From Star Wars:

Ooh look, here's Baby Tathrin's Very Mature And Not-At-All Mary-Sue-ish Lengthy Backstory Novel for Rhysati Ynr, who deserved so much more character development and screentime than Rogue Squadron gave her and I'll do it myself if I have to, dammit, fic... Yeah, I still think Rhys deserved more story-time, but I'm definitely never going back to that fic because I'm not thirteen anymore XD

Bounty Hunter's Winter, which was supposed to be a young-Boba-Fett-grudgingly-teams-up-with-Sheltay-Retrac-in-Clone-Wars/Purge-Era and then timeskips to juxtapose with an-experienced-Boba-Fett-grudgingly-teams-up-with-a-young-Winter-in-Rebellion-Era fic that basically just existed to show How Fucking Competent all three of them were. There's nothing wrong with this one, it's just not got enough framework/point to be interesting going back to now.

Padmé Jedi Prequels is the working-title for a what-if? re-writing of the Prequel Trilogy where Padmé, you guessed it, was a Jedi too. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon still get sent to deal with the Trade Federation over Naboo, but Obi-Wan has been recently Knighted and Padmé is Qui-Gon's new Padawan. I do like what I have written for this one, but it would be a LOT of work to write the rest of it (basically: everything between "landing on Tatooine" and "the ending scenes w/ the Purge"), and the canon has changed sooooo much since I started working on it that I'd either have to re-work a lot of details or just throw my hands up and go "this is pre-Clone Wars tv show continuity reconstructed from memory, it's gonna be a bumpy ride!" and know that everyone, including me, is going to be so fucking confused lmao.

From Lord of the Rings:

Okay I'm so glad you asked this question mainly for this answer, because I had completely forgotten I ever did this, but: apparently back when I was in college, I started writing a story where a portion of the Fellowship along with Elrond's kids, Faramir, Éowyn, and Éomer were all re-embodied (in the case of the mortals and Arwen) or sent from Aman (in the case of the elf, half-elves, and dwarf) to go deal with some Terrible New Threat by...pretending to be Normal Modern Humans Undercover In College, I guess??? The only things I ever wrote for it were the intro, an "everybody tries to figure out how modern clothing works in a big department store and it's a Disaster, thank goodness they have Éowyn there to wrangle everyone" scene, a snippet of Legolas and Gimli being Very Good At Acting Like Humans on a balcony and annoying Aragorn, and Legolas nearly having a stroke when a bartender serves Gimli and not him, because "he's clearly old enough, but you look way too young; sorry kid try again when you have a better fake ID."

I've also got an ancient Three Hunters get pulled into the Star Wars universe post-War of the Rings when Artoo and Threepio's escape pod lands in Gondor instead of Tatooine story that I can't imagine I'll ever touch again, but does admittedly have some amusing (if very painfully Old Writing) bits written for it, so that was nice to look at (and wince over) again.

Also there's this, of course.

From the X-Men Comics:

A fanfic about a New Excalibur Team being formed that actually has (if I do say so myself, and I will) an excellent beginning, but which I failed to write-down the Actual Planned Plot of, and now I can no longer remember wtf I was going to do with the damn story, so it's probably never going to get any further since that's uhhh. kind of an important part of Writing A Story lmao.

One where Illyana gets shunted back to Mythical Camelot somehow when she dies during Inferno, irritates/distresses Merlin, befriends both Guienevere and Mordred, annoys Morgan le Fay, learns some advanced magic, and eventually has to help destroy Mordred to save everyone else; only then does she find her way back to the present, and comes back to life several years after her younger self has died of the Legacy Virus to be re-united with Kitty and the New Mutants. Given that in the (many) years since I started that fic, Illyana already has been resurrected it's uhhh. kind of a moot point of a story now lol.

Also there's surely some half-started Potter stories sitting around here that idk if I'll ever feel the urge to touch again (Green-Eyed Snake included). Maybe the burst of celebration I'll feel the day she just self-combusts from all that hate and finally just fucking dies will be inspiring...

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

Detailed, plausible, and most especially verbose ;)

⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

Writing, definitely; although I've read a lot more fic in the past few months than I'd read for years, and I'm enjoying it mightily (navigating on AO3 is sooooooooooo much better than trying to slog through FFnet and livejournal and geocities omgggggg I can actually find good stories now, what is this witchcraft???).

[kurt-wagner-official]

Post #122: EX issues 3-5

Those weird guys who were chasing baby Kylun (maybe? I refuse to google it) are with their boss, an old lady named Vixen, at the British superprison, where they start a breakout for unclear reasons. Excalibur arrives, but one the prisoners is Juggernaut. Brian starts punching him while Kitty, in a really cool moment, phases a truck full of escaping prisoners, causing the men to fly out and hit the ground. Kurt is in the fray, having a blast, while Meggan uses her weird empathetic shapeshifting thing to give herself Juggernaut muscles and powers until Rachel zaps his brain. Elsewhere, Widget is uncovered by a UFO hunter, who for his troubles gets zapped into Kylun dimension and meets Opal Lun Sat-Yr9, the AU Saturnyne who is going to get more annoying the more I have to type that out. Excalibur is moving all their stuff into the lighthouse, Brian accidentally drops Kitty's computer, damaging it, which makes her cry because Doug helped her program it. The lighthouse is very small and has one bathroom, which instantly causes problems. When Meggan tries to start and fire without a fireplace, for some reason, it catches on the crates of whiskey that Brian has in the living room. Rachel tosses it into the ocean cause she doesn't like it when he's drunk, which is very funny but also probably not the way to deal with your friend's alcoholism. Bria flies off angrily, leaving Meggan sad, but Kurt comforts her, giving the soft and genuine compliments that Brian never does. Kitty and Lockheed wander around after a power blackout and run into weird looking doppelgangers which then disappear, cause this is a very weird place. Brian, we learn, has gone off to hang out with Courtney and complain about how much Meggan loves him, which is a crazy coping strategy. Rachel interrupts to tell him about the Kitty incident, so he flies on back, but at that point nobody can find anything. He does apologize to Meggan, but doesn't tell her he was with Courtney. The team make up and decide to keep at it and try to work out the kinks of living together, cause they are having fun in between all the tension. It's a cute moment.

Courtney is attacked by the Crazy Gang, who include the guy from the first issue opening and who I have since learned are existing Captain Britain villains. So that opening scene was a teaser for Captain Britain fans, of which I am not one. Sorry Alan! The Gang are bad enough at being evil that Courtney is able to beat them up and run outside, where Arcade is waiting, having hired the villains. He actually was a Captain Britain villain first, so not that crazy a pull I guess. Kitty and Rachel are at Courtney's bank (which she owns apparently, good for her) and then go clothes shopping, where Rachel telekinetically changes Kitty's outfit for her and Kitty tells Rachel that she dresses really sexy. So there's that. When they go to pay, they discover Arcade replaced the money that they just got from the bank. Kurt is working out in the acrobat gym at the lighthouse when Meggan comes to hang out. They start goofing around, and he tickles her, and then they almost kiss when Brian gets home and calls out, wondering where they are. Meggan flies off, both of them ashamed. Kitty and Rachel arrive and fill everyone in on the fake money Arcade left, which has clues that lead to his location. When they get there, the Crazy Gang uses a device to swap their bodies with Excalibur, except for Kitty and Lockheed. Actually, right before that Rachel gets a psychic distress call from her baby brother, an early Inferno tie-in because that story has already started being published at this point. It's a weird little continuity thing, because Inferno was spread across many months but takes place in a short ammount of time. When it comes to event tie-ins back in the day, that's not really something anyone cared about, this was just a promotion for that story. Limbo has weird time fuckery so it's easier than usual to handwave it. Our heroes are taken prisoner in these almost useless bodies, brought into Murderworld along with Courtney.

Courtney is dressed up as Alice from Wonderland (the Crazy Gang are all Wonderland themed) and let loose with Excalibur, chased by the Crazy Gang in the heroes' bodies. Kitty reveals her own master plan; she and Doug created a code that would take control of Murderworld systems, as preparations for the next abduction, and she plugs it in, neutralizing Arcade's control. She then drops him in the middle of the amusement park. The Crazy Gang are still on the loose though. Courtney and Kitty team up and grab the body switch device, using it to reverse all the body swaps. They turn Arcade over to the cops while Brian flirts with Courtney in front of Meggan. Kurt and Brian go out to a bar, where Kurt tries to get him to be a better boyfriend. He tells Kurt that he feels overwhelmed by being Meggan's whole world, and I don't care. If he feels that way, he should break up with her. He flies off, and Kurt thinks about how his friend is a hero but out of touch with his own humanity. I love Kurt. Brian is off to hang out with his mistress, but before he arrives, Opal Lun Sat-Yr9 shows up at Courtney's apartment and kills her. When Brian shows up, Sat-Yr9 impersonates Courtney. Brian doesn't pick up on the deception, but he does think it's Saturnyne for a second, which is how we the readers learn they're identical, Courtney being the 616 version of Saturnyne. Brian never realized that his boss and his ex are the same person? He's the representation that the face-blindness community have been waiting for. So are the warwolves actually! Wow this book makes me feel so seen. Anyway, Brian and fake Courtney (I'm gonna call her Courtney cause I don't want type out the other name) make out, and it's implied they're about to fuck. This is a horrific violation of both the real Courtney and Brian, in addition to what Brian is doing to Meggan. It's honestly quite shocking to read as the finale to a silly Wonderland adventure. It was a fun little story till now though. I'm loving this book.

[sluttywonwoo]

sunkissed || l.sk x reader

Summary: more like sunburned. on vacation with seokmin you lay out on the beach for a little too long, making for a very interesting night.

Warnings: swearing, smut

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

The sun was absolutely blinding and even though you were wearing sunglasses you couldn’t see anything. You knew your boyfriend was still stretched out in a lounge chair under the umbrella behind you, though, because you could hear him humming along to the music streaming from his phone, and that was all that mattered. 

Last time you’d been able to see him he had been hiding a copy of his new Excalibur script behind a book and feigning reading. The two of you had agreed to a no work on vacation rule, and he’d been the first to break it, but you could tell he was just so excited about his new project that you let it slide.

It was your first vacation with Seokmin, and so far it had been wonderful. You’d checked in yesterday and done a little bit of the touristy thing, but today you were content to lie on the beach for hours with no intention of moving. 

The sound of the crashing waves had lulled you to sleep a couple of times already, and you knew Seokmin would make fun of you for it later, but with the salty breeze and warm sand beneath you, you couldn’t help it. 

The water was spotted with some swimmers and surfers, but the beach itself wasn’t very crowded. You and Seokmin had planned your trip so that you’d just miss the summer break rush so everything could be a little more peaceful. 

You were pulled out of your half sleep when Seokmin’s humming stopped. You opened your eyes and tried to blink away the spots dancing at the edges of your vision when a weight dropped on top of you. You smirked as familiar lips planted a kiss to your cheek and tried to squirm away, but he had you pinned.

“Almost ready to go back up to the room, baby?” he murmured in your ear.

You nodded, and managed to twist your body underneath Seokmin to look up at him. Your eyes finally adjusted and you grinned lazily at the sight before you. His fair hair framed by the golden sunset behind him, brown eyes more dazzling than anything you’d ever seen, faint freckles starting to show on his cheeks from the sun. You consider yourself lucky that you didn’t need to leave home to see such a beautiful view.

You hadn’t been keeping track of the time, but now that you saw the sun setting over the water you realized how long you and Seokmin had been sitting out there.

“Are you hungry? Let���s get something to eat, babe.” 

“I could eat.”

“So could I,” he whispered breathily, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat. 

You’d been teasing each other with the clichés all day: being a little more thorough than necessary with rubbing sunscreen on each other, you untying the back of your bikini to sunbathe, Seokmin running into the water for point two seconds just so you could see him soaking wet and admire the way the water glistened on his body. You were on vacation, and the hotel room was beautiful. It had tub on the balcony and a breathtaking view of the blue-roofed villas cascading down the cliffs as well as the water.

However, the bed had yet to be broken in, both of you had been exhausted after exploring Akrotiri and Pyrgos, but it was something you planned to remedy tonight. 

You followed Seokmin up to the room where you both got ready for dinner at a restaurant a friend had recommended to you. You wore a short, white, linen dress and Seokmin wore a similar white button-up that he left the top buttons undone on, so that he could show off his tan.

Dinner was much like the afternoon. The details were blurry, but there was a lot of alcohol and a lot of back and forth. By sheer luck the host had seated you at a tiny booth in the back of the restaurant where you could still see the cliffs, but also sit smushed next to each other. Seokmin kept one hand on your knee throughout the meal, and if asked later, he would deny moving it any further, but you recounted the events very differently. At one point, your lips were moving in a whisper against his ear and the base of his neck and you swore Seokmin’s grip on your leg got so tight you thought you might lose circulation. 

“You want dessert, baby?” he asked when the waiter approached your table with the shiny silver menus.

“I’m good,” you managed to say, slowly, but steadily. “You?”

“What I want isn’t on the menu,” he replied in the same tone, looking directly into your eyes, ignoring how the waiter in front of your table pursed his lips.

He’d probably heard that line a thousand times, especially working in a vacation spot like this. His eyes screamed ‘just fucking say you want to eat her out and go’ but for what it was worth, the line worked on you.

“So I’ll bring the check then?” he asked when neither of you addressed him. 

“Oh, yes please. Thanks.”

After fumbling with the key and stumbling into the room, you were beyond ready to be fucked senseless when Seokmin slapped your ass cheekily, making you cry out in pain.

“Ow, Seok,” you bit out, putting your hand where his had just been. 

His face contorted with concern. “I’m so sorry, y/n! I didn’t mean-”

“It’s okay,” you said, smoothing your dress out over your body.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

He leaned back against the dresser, arms crossed, watching you with pain in his eyes. You knew how bad he felt about hurting you, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Usually, there was pain mixed with pleasure, but this time was different. You could still feel the sting on your skin. Hesitantly, you lifted the edge of your dress and saw the unmistakable tint of a sunburn all down the back of your legs, complete with a still fading mark of a handprint on your ass.

Seokmin gasped. “Y/n.”

“What the fuck?”

“Baby, I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he apologized again.

“Neither did I,” you groaned, squinting your eyes down at your body.

“You put on sunscreen didn’t you?” he asked and you had to bite your tongue before you snapped at him. 

“Of course I did!”

“Did you reapply?”

“Yeah, once I think.”

He didn’t say anything, but you knew he was judging you. “Here, I think we have some aloe,” Seokmin said and disappeared into the bathroom. He emerged moments later with the signature bottle of green gel in hand. 

“Take your dress off, baby,” he instructed and carefully helped you lift your dress over your head, careful not to let the fabric touch your body.

With a sigh, you threw yourself on the bed on your stomach, only smiling when you heard Seokmin’s little chuckle from behind you. You felt the weight shift on the bed as he climbed up next to you, and sat cross legged beside you. He pushed some of the hair out of your face with a soft grin and popped the cap on the bottle of aloe. 

You could tell he was trying his best not to come off as deflated, but you understood. You were disappointed too. You had been looking forward to getting good dick all day, and now every time you moved pain rippled through your body.

“This might be a bit cold,” Seokmin said as a disclaimer before rubbing the first bit of aloe onto your skin.

You sighed with relief as the gel instantly cooled your skin on impact. Seokmin was careful to rub it in gently, applying just enough so you wouldn’t be sticky later. He started with your calves and worked his way up, and you began to feel progressively better. 

Once he reached your thighs you fought the urge to clench them together. You knew it wasn’t the time, but your body didn’t, and your boyfriend’s fingers on your inner thighs was basically code for it. All of the feelings from the beginning of the night came rushing back and his fingers were just so close to where you wanted them. You had to actively fight the urge to moan. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he cleared his throat awkwardly as he continued to massage aloe onto your ass. “Are you, uh, wet?”

You only nodded in response, still not trusting yourself to open your mouth. 

“Do you want me to...” he trailed off, but you got the idea.

“God yes,” you sighed out and let the tension evaporate from your body as you felt Seokmin’s fingers work their way back down to your thighs, right where they had been. He was just about to give you what you wanted when you stopped him. “Wait,” you said, grabbing his wrist and he froze, afraid he had done something wrong. “Use your other hand,” you held up his right hand, covered with green goo for him to see. “I have a feeling aloe in my vagina won’t end well.”

He laughed and leaned down to kiss you. “Of course, whatever you want, baby.”

He started his ministrations again, continuing to rub aloe on your body with his right hand while he began to work two fingers inside of you. You moaned out, louder than expected at the combined relief from the gel and the pleasure from his fingers inside you. 

“Feel good?”

“So good, Seok, baby,” you breathed.

“Let me hear you,” he encouraged, inserting another finger. You gasped in response and felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Fuck, y/n, you’re so good for me,” Seokmin praised eliciting another moan from you.

You felt yourself getting closer and closer, teetering on the edge, but it wasn’t quite enough. “Seokmin,” you pleaded and looked back at him, catching him licking his lips, eyes filled with lust in the dim lighting, making you swear. “Fuck, Seok, please.”

“Hm?” he asked, ripping his attention from between your legs and meeting your eyes.

“Fuck, I need more,” you gasped. “I need you.”

“Don’t worry, angel,” he said in a raspy voice with a glint in his eye and a smirk pulling at his lips, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

i didn’t go too in depth about what he sunburn looks like on the reader because…well, it’s different for everyone. like it’s a fucking tossup whether I’ll get sunburned or not because i’m hapa lol anyway lmk what you think I always appreciate feedback!!

send me an ask to be added to my taglist

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 34: Forever

Chapter 33

Read on AO3

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: This fic is on a very long hiatus until further notice. Please see the AO3 link for more details. Much love❤️

It was June third, the day after their eleven month anniversary. Claire couldn’t believe it; it was truly almost an entire year since that fateful Saturday at the stables. A year since their hearts and bodies had spoken what their voices dared not say.

He took her down port again, to a restaurant even more extravagant than the one they’d gone to the last time they were there. It was a glorious Saturday night, and Claire was blissfully happy.

Though something seemed off with Jamie.

His hand had done that tapping that he did when he was anxious the entire drive over, and it was his left, always his left, so she could not reach out and take it to soothe him.

“Why, you’re as nervous as you were on our first date,” she’d teased.

“Aye, well.” He’d forced a chuckle, winking at her. “It’s no’ every day ye celebrate nearly a year wi’ the woman ye love.”

She’d laughed, too, not really considering what an odd thing that was to say.

She also hadn’t considered how strange it was to go so all-out when it wasn’t actually a full year yet. She could truly only imagine how extravagant those plans would be.

And anyway…what was there to be nervous about? There wasn’t a single thing they hadn’t shared, a single thing they didn’t know about each other now. Holding his hand as they left the parking meter, strolling down the sidewalk to their reservation, his palm was as sweaty as it had been the night they’d first slept together.

Had he never eaten at this restaurant? Was he worried she wouldn’t like it?

Watching his hand jiggle at his side at a constant loop at the table, Claire put her menu down.

“Jamie. You’re shaking the whole table.”

“Christ, I’m sorry.” He stiffened, reigning himself in. “I didn’t even notice I was doing it.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she said gently. “I’m serious. What’s going on with you? You’re never so out of it when we go out.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he said, and she almost believed him. “I’m alright.”

“You’re about to cause an earthquake with that nervous tick of yours and you expect me to believe you’re alright?”

His lips quirked up in a sheepish grin, and for just a second she caught a glimpse of Jamie again, not the anxious mess she was at dinner with.

“Is something happening with your family? And you don’t want to ruin the evening by bringing it up now? Because I don’t give a damn about the evening. We can leave right now—”

“No.”

Claire jumped a little, wincing at how tightly he squeezed her hand.

“Sorry,” he stammered.  “I’m mucking this all up.”

“Mucking what up?”

He sighed. “Nothing is wrong wi’ my family. Nothing at all is wrong. Everything is…perfect. My life hasna been this right since I was a bairn.”

Claire allowed a tiny smile, her eyes glimmering. “Okay,” she said softly, urging him to continue.

“That’s what has me feeling this way, I suppose. You are perfect. Our life is perfect. I suppose this big anniversary is just…I dinna ken. I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Jamie…” Claire shook her head. “There is no other shoe. I’m not going anywhere. Faith is not going anywhere. You’re stuck with us, darling.”

He sighed in relief, and Claire could not comprehend that he would ever think otherwise to the point where he would feel such relief.

“Even when I’m shaking tables and sweating through shirts?”

She giggled. “Yes. Even then.”

He kissed her hand. “Good.”

The rest of the dinner went off without a hitch, though there was still something underlying buzzing through Jamie. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and reassure him the only way she knew how. If he kept this up, she might not be able to wait until they got home. She’d have to find a long, empty dock and drag him to the edge and kiss him senseless anywhere he wanted. She couldn’t stand to see him like this, and she wouldn’t rest until she could see that he was absolutely sure that she was his and his alone.

Forever.

They went to their usual ice cream place, and as they swapped cups and tasted each other’s, Jamie seemed to relax a little bit more, laughing, savoring the flavor like a little boy. That was one of the things she loved most about him. He took nothing for granted, not even the difference between his moose tracks ice cream and Claire’s mint chocolate chip, not even the pigeons and seagulls that watched them out of the corner of their eye the closer they got to the beach.

“I’ll unleash all my unholy power if they so much as peck this ice cream,” Claire said, eyeing a particularly nasty looking little bastard.

“Dinna fash, my lass,” Jamie said gallantly, raising his spoon like Excalibur. “No harm shall befall ye, or yer precious frozen treat. No’ so long as I’m wi’ ye.”

“My hero.” She batted her lashes at him, then craned her neck and puckered her lips, and he obliged her, kissing her soundly.

The farther along the beach they wandered, the less and less people they encountered, and Claire began scouting locations where they could tuck themselves away for even a few moments of privacy. She certainly couldn’t fully have him here, but a few sloppy kisses and heavy touches would do the trick. Her eyes flicked to a dock with a boat on the end, no people to be found on it. She gave him a mischievous look and began tugging him toward it.

“I ken that look well enough,” Jamie said, matching her mischief. “And I’ll no’ be giving in to ye.”

She stuck out her lip in her most convincing pout. “Why ever not?”

“I dinna trust ye no’ to get us arrested for public indecency. No’ with that gleam in yer eye.”

“I’ll be good! I promise.” She stopped tugging so she could press herself flush against him, arching her back just enough that her breasts were the first thing that came in contact with him. “Come on, love…I promise I’ll behave.”

She fully expected him to grab her hips, press his hardness into her with a growl, and accept defeat.

But instead, he just grinned. Not even a smirk, a full-faced grin.

“If ye can catch me, ye can have yer way wi’ me.”

“What—?”

And then before she could blink, Jamie was running, sprinting away from her, kicking up sand in his wake.

“You bastard!”

She hiked up her skirts and chased after him as fast as her bare feet could carry her in the sand. She lost track of how long she spent going after him, but he was not relenting, not letting her catch up. They were both laughing their heads off, whooping, Claire calling after him until her voice was hoarse. He finally stopped, appearing to not be exhausted in the slightest, and she slowed herself to a jog, chest heaving and burning.

“You absolute maniac,” she panted. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

She was laughing as she said it, and he laughed with her, reaching out his hand and taking it when she caught up. He kissed her hand.

“My legs feel like jell-o. You’d better be planning on carrying me back.”

“Aye, of course,” he said automatically. “But I want to show ye something first.”

She cocked a brow skeptically.

“Come on.”

He tugged on her hand, and out of sheer exhaustion, she allowed him to lead the way. They were walking right to a dock, and before Claire could exasperatedly complain that she’d been trying to do the same thing before he started that marathon, she realized.

There were candles lining every step of the boardwalk, a string of lights wrapped around each wooden post along the way. Across the top was a zigzag of more lights, held in place by thin metal poles attached to the wooden posts. She hadn’t seen it, even as she was running right toward it. She’d had her eyes locked on Jamie’s bright red hair all the while, desperate to catch up to him.

“What…what is all this…?” She was still out of breath, and on top of it her breath was gone for an entirely different reason.

He didn’t say anything, just kept his hand laced with hers and continued walking her down to the end of the pier.

“This is beautiful…is this always here…? I don’t understand…”

A familiar humming noise took her out of her dumbstruck admiration of the twinkling beauty, and she whipped her head around. “Jamie…what…?” Squinting, Claire could make out two figures at the opposite end of the pier, and a bouncing little thing in front of them.

Before she could process what was happening, she felt him take her other hand. She turned her head to question him, but was stunned into silence by the look on his face.

He was radiant.

The string of lights painted glowing streaks in his hair and twinkled in his eyes. And God, his eyes…they were bigger than she’d ever seen; she may very well have drowned in them if he didn’t start speaking.

“Claire, I…” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. The hand that was grasping hers was trembling.

“Jamie…?”

“You are…the most remarkable woman I’ve ever met,” he continued, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand tighter. “The first time I saw ye I was…blown away by how big yer heart was. The way ye looked at Faith, the way she smiled at ye…I knew. I knew ye were special. And I didna realize at the time, but ye’d already crawled into this hole in my heart that was made for you. Both of you.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with tears, and it very suddenly hit her exactly what was happening.

“I know the pain ye’ve seen, mo ghraidh, I know the fear and doubt that plagues ye. But I…” He cleared his throat again, and then lowered himself to the ground, on one knee.

A single tear escaped Claire’s eye, trickling down as her breath hitched in her throat.

“I will never, never stop trying to be worthy of ye, Claire. I swear to ye on my life that I will be a good husband, and…a good father. You deserve to be loved beyond measure. And I…I do, mo sorcha. I love you wi’ every ounce of my being.”

Claire was fully sobbing now, and his thumb rubbed over her knuckles as his other hand reached into his pocket.

“So will you, Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp, make me the luckiest man in the world?” He opened the box, revealing the beautiful sparkling ring within. “Will ye marry me, Sassenach?”

Claire could not speak. She nodded vigorously, more ridiculous sobs sputtering from her. Jamie’s strained, concentrated face erupted into the most glorious smile she had ever seen. He leapt to his feet and Claire threw her arms around his neck, and he encircled her waist, lifting her off the ground and spinning her. He exclaimed loudly in Gaelic, laughing joyously, and Claire sputtered her own laughter in between sobs.

He finally put her down, and Claire seized his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his, and he kissed her back passionately. When they pulled apart, Jamie was holding the ring, a small but beautiful rock set within it, and she allowed him to slip it on.

“Oh, love…” she croaked out, and he brought her hand to his lips and fervently kissed the ring.

Something suddenly collided with Claire’s legs, and she cried out a bit in shock. Jamie laughed again as Claire turned around and looked down to see Faith clinging to her legs. Looking up, she could now see that the figures in the distance were Gail and Joe.

“You…” She turned back to Jamie. “You had this all planned, didn’t you?”

Jamie just beamed at her, his eyes glistening with tears. Claire let out a joyous laugh and sank to her knees in front of Faith.

“Hello, lovie….” She wrapped her arms around her and squeezed tight, rocking her gently. “Oh, look at you…” Claire pulled back so she could see Faith, dressed in a beautiful little dress, blue and purple and frilly, white stockings and her perfect little white shoes. When she’d left her with Leina, she was still in her pajamas from the night before, and the plan had seemingly been to leave it that way.

“Look at us, hm?” Claire said, sniffling as she stroked Faith’s hair. “All dressed up? Mummy is going to be married, darling.” Claire’s voice broke, and she laughed through more tears. “See, Faith?” She held up her hand, and Faith immediately began fiddling with the rock. “This means I’m going to be a bride, baby.”

God…I can’t believe it.

A hand suddenly touched her shoulder, and she looked behind her to see that Jamie had crouched down beside her.

“I’ve, ehm, got something for her, too,” he said, his nervousness returning.

Claire’s heart felt fit to burst as her eyes landed on the pink velvet box in his hand.

“With yer permission, Claire…” Jamie took a deep, stuttering breath. “I’d like to ask yer daughter to let me be her father.”

Claire’s chin quivered again, her eyes immediately welling up. She nodded, swallowing thickly, and then fervently kissed Jamie’s cheek before standing up to allow him to proceed.

——

Jamie took a steadying breath before straightening himself out, getting up on his knee the way he’d just done before Claire.

“Hello, wean,” he said. She was fiddling with her skirt and twirling it back and forth, staring intently at its sparkles.

“Faith, a leannan, can ye look at my eyes?” He gently poked her chin with his finger, and she looked up, only to become enraptured by the string of lights above her head.

“D’ye like the lights, Faith?” Jamie flicked her chin with his middle finger, signing light. She giggled and snatched his hand in both of hers. “Ah, ye got me,” he teased, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them. “I like the lights too, ye ken. Reminds me of our special day in our fairy den. D’ye remember?” She hummed a bit, freeing one of her hands from his grip to flap it, saying fairy

“Aye, that’s right. Very good, Faith.” He took her hand again in hopes of keeping her attention. “I had lots of fun that day, Faith. In fact, I have lots of fun whenever I’m with ye. Because ye’re a very special lass. D’ye ken that?”

She started fiddling with the wee hairs on his hands, giggling to herself.

“I asked yer Mummy a very important question, Faith. I asked her if she wanted to be my wife. And I gave her a special present to celebrate, a very pretty ring. D’ye like the ring?” She nodded absently, still twirling the little hairs. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because I’ve got a special present fer you, too.”

That got her attention. She whipped her head up and looked at him, humming and then opening her mouth with an excited groan. Jamie chuckled softly and held the box up to her. She stroked the velvet box with her hands before pressing her cheek into it, likely enjoying its softness.

“Lovely box, is it no’?” he teased, and then gently lifted her chin to pick her head up off the box. “Let’s look inside, aye?”

Before Faith could snatch the box again or get upset, he popped it open.

“See what I’ve got for ye? Look.” He let Faith take it in her hands. “It’s a crown, see? And look what it says. F-A-I-T-H.” He signed each letter to her as he said it. “Faith. That’s yer name, aye?” She hummed, biting her lip with her smile. “Princess Faith, it says.

“D’ye ken that I love ye, Faith?” His voice got tight, his eyes welling up. “I think I fell in love wi’ you just as quickly as I did yer mam.” He tucked a curl behind her ear. He kept his hand there, cupping her cheek, as he signed I love you with his free hand. “See, a leannan? I love you.”

Faith gave a high pitched, squealing giggle, bouncing as she returned the sign. Jamie uttered a breathy laugh, a single tear trickling down his cheek. He heard a tiny sob from above him, and wasn’t surprised to feel Claire’s hand grasp his shoulder.

“Good girl, Faith,” Jamie whispered, rubbing a circle on her cheek with his thumb. “It makes me verra happy that ye love me, too.” He signed happy, smiling widely. “Are ye happy, Faith?” She hummed, jiggling her hands and nodding. “Good, good lass.” He sniffled, blinking away more tears, reaching to his own shoulder to cover Claire’s hand in his.

“I promise to always love ye, and protect ye, and do right by ye, just as I will yer mam.” He gave Claire’s hand a squeeze. “Will ye be my wee princess, Faith?” He poked a finger at the necklace, his fingertip cooling at the touch of the metal. “Will ye let me be yer Da?” He spread his fingers, poking his thumb to his forehead.

Faith hummed and jiggled a bit, but Jamie held the sign patiently. After a few seconds, she giggled, and then copied him exactly, thumb on forehead. Fingers splayed.

Da.

Jamie laughed out loud, fit to burst with joy. He released Claire’s hand to wrap his arms around his wee girl, and Joe and Gail broke into applause. He felt Claire fall to her knees beside him, and his heart cracked open to hear her openly weeping. He folded her into his embrace as well, and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck, fisting his jacket in one hand, caressing Faith’s curls in the other.

“Oh, Jamie…” she blubbered against his skin. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, mo chridhe. Wi’ my whole heart.”

When the three of them finally released each other from their embrace, Jamie freed the necklace from the box and fastened it around Faith’s neck. She rubbed it between her fingers, pulled it up and rubbed it on her cheek, and jiggled it in her hands.

“It’s beautiful, Jamie,” Claire breathed against his neck.

“D’ye think she likes it?”

“She does.”

“D’ye think she…understands?”

They looked at Faith for a moment, grinning from ear to ear as she fiddled with her necklace.

“I think she does.” Claire pressed a kiss into the crook of his neck. “If nothing else, she knows that you love her, Jamie.” Claire met his eye and held up the sign, trembling lips curling into a smile. He repeated the sign, touching their fingers together as he’d often seen mother and daughter do, and their foreheads rested together. “And she loves you, too. She doesn’t say what she doesn’t mean.”

A tear slipped from Jamie’s eye and trickled down Claire’s nose, and they kissed one another sweetly, I love you’s still pressed together.

Gail and Joe suddenly got closer, calling Faith over to them. Jamie broke into a wide grin, watching from the corner of his eye; the last part of the plan was nearly complete.

“Go on, baby,” Gail said. “Go put them on, just like we practiced.”

Faith scampered back to them, bounding and skipping and squealing with glee. Jamie exchanged a look with Claire, who seemed utterly bewildered, and who somehow looked completely and utterly beautiful, even red and swollen from tears of joy.

Jamie ducked his head and allowed Faith to clumsily place the hat atop his head, and then watched as she plopped the one with the bow on Claire. Faith squealed again and jumped up and down, clapping her hands in triumph and then flapping relentlessly.

“What on Earth…?” Claire turned to look at Jamie, and then burst into laughter.

Faith had put Mickey Mouse ears on them both — well, Minnie Mouse for Claire if you accounted for the red bow.

“D’ye no’ find me rather dashing?” he teased, and Claire laughed all the harder. “Here. Look.”

Jamie removed the hat, and Claire did the same, then Jamie held them side by side. Claire exhaled with a breathy laugh, leaning her cheek into Jamie’s shoulder as she read the words that Jamie had had embroidered onto the backs, his and hers respectively:

I asked

I said yes!

[never-enough-fanfiction]

Arthur W,X,Y,Z

Last letters for Arhtur! Keeping Zenith unpublished till the very end was a real test of will, but that’s my great ending.  

Thank you @dreishika-is-practicing for the request, it was so much fun to do!

That’s also the last alphabet-related post, thank you all for your requests!

Enjoy!

W eak point What is their weak point.

Call him “My King” and he is yours.  

Please not abusing your powers.

X Random HC of mine.

Arthur spontaneously captures you to dance whenever he has the opportunity.

Your favorite song is playing on the radio while making breakfast? Knife aside, the kitchen is now a ballroom!

You have to pass a long, empty corridor? Why not make it, dancing in his arms?

If you can't dance, don't be afraid, Arthur will gladly teach you.

Y ear How they see the relationship in the future.

Isn’t it oblivious? HAPPILY. EVER. AFTER.

But seriously, Arthur always portrays you two in your own small kingdom, with 2-3 heirs around. You have everything you dream about: the most beautiful clothes and jeweler, and the dining room table bends with food.

Arthur, on the other hand, doesn't need much, 8 armors, 5 pureblooded horses and 3 villages are enough for him.

Just kidding, for him it doesn’t matter how your shared apartment looks like, as long you are with him, that’s his kingdom.

Z enith How will the end of the relationship look like.

The iron door creaked hollowly, moved for the first time in ages. The sunlight fell in a narrow band to a place long forbidden to him, and a tall, horned figure stood on the threshold. The Devil. He cast a cynical glance of his red eyes at the ruined hall and waved the agitated dust and the smell of stale room away from his face.

Walked in long strides through the throne room of the former kingdom, whose days of glory remained only in torn tapestries. And every step left fiery traces in the stone floor.

He climbed the broken steps and stopped in front of the old throne and the figure sitting on it. Knelt before the old king, not to pay tribute, but only to glare at with a hellish glare. His eyes lingered on the cross on the hilt, the cross of the Knights of Sol, the guardians of the weaker and the liberators of souls burning with endless flame. This blade has long forgotten what it means to fight on behalf of those who are unable to. He would forever remain in the dead grip of the old king, serving as his eternal support.

He rubbed the moss on the steel with his thumb, revealing the noble name of the blade. Excalibur.

"What happened dumbass?"

The stone lids twitched to reveal the old king's dull irises. Their former splendor and strength are gone, leaving only a memory of what once was.

"The Queen," croaked a long stagnant throat, "she is gone."

Shinra scratched his neck, sighing heavily

He knew breakups could be tough, but what was left of Arthur was no longer Arthur. Even he began to feel sorry for him.

He shoved away the dirty dishes scattered over the blanket so he could sit down and nudged his friend. The captain advised to give him time to get used to the breakup, but from that day on, Arthur had become a useless puppet whose strings had been cut off. He couldn't even go on a mission with them, as Excalibur became no more than a pocket knife.

"Maybe ..." he began, pressing his shoulder against his friend. “Maybe you should go meet her. Try again. "

"It's pointless." The fair-haired man turned his head away, not looking in his direction. "She is gone."

"C'mon!" Shinra jumped up from the mattress and stood on his legs wide apart, fists on his hips. "What are you peasant or king of the knights ?!"

Arthur shot him a grim look through the hair, but didn't answer.

"That's how you treat the queen?! Surrendering in her case after the first adversity?! " continued the friend. "Go! Fight for her! "

Fight for her.

For her.

The dead air sounded with a solemn game of fanfare and cheerful shouts from the spectators. The bright afternoon sunlight fell into the darkness of the room, and a sudden gust of wind forced in flower petals, showered by the inhabitants under the hooves of mounts carrying knights on their backs. It will start soon.

Tournament.

Arthur jumped up, grabbed Excalibur, and draw a cerulean blade that gleamed more forcefully than ever before. A fire hotter than the Devil's own hell fires lit up in the azure eyes.

She is his Queen and he will fight for her.

The knight rushed to the door, ready to rush to the chosen one of his heart, but a clawed paw stopped him.

"Arthur, pants," Shinra sighed, handing him the clothes.

“Ah yes, my armor. Help me put it on quickly, squire! "

"What?!"

Now tell me dear reader, will our knight win this tournament, or will the lady of his heart give her handkerchief to another?

[frosteee]

The Existential Terror of Asura [Soul Eater]

It's been a long time since I've thought about Soul Eater, but I've been thinking about it a lot recently and I wanted to talk about it. I've been thinking maybe a bit too much, which is relevant.

Asura resonated (sorry) with me years ago when I first got into the series, and he does even more now, for what he says about fear and its effects, and how the wrong response to individuals suffering from that fear can cause a spiral into even worse depths.

[LONG ASS POST UNDER CUT]

Lord Death created the first Kishin, Asura. Literally and figuratively. There's no two ways about it. Excalibur tells him as much in his final moments, telling him how wrong it was to create a being out of his own fears. Lord Death acknowledges that Asura, his own son, was created as an experiment, a means to the end of becoming a perfect god of Absolute Order. The quote from Voltaire's short story 'Memnon' comes to mind here: 'One day, Memnon conceived the insane idea of becoming perfectly wise.'

This foolish, if well-intentioned, effort was successful in Lord Death's case, but the consequences for those around him were horrendous. Early in the manga, Lord Death is unable to admit it out loud. Even the way he recounts Asura's fall into madness and betrayal, and how he dealt with that consequence, speaks to Lord Death's detachment, his lack of compassion and understanding at that time. He removes his relation to Asura entirely, removing the truth of the matter and placing himself on the moral high ground in the process.

When he is recounting Asura's downfall, Lord Death remarks that he did not know what lay in Asura's heart, pondering if it was fear. He does not seem to realise or take responsibility for the fact that Asura is literally his anxiety incarnate. He understood on some level that no being, god or otherwise, could stand such a condition, and was careful not to make the same mistake with Kid, but Lord Death (at that point) was unable to admit or think of Asura as anything other than a traitor and a threat.

Lord Death taught Kid that the real purpose of a Reaper was balance - conveniently forgetting to mention how he came by that particular titbit of wisdom - his eldest son, the most unbalanced creature to ever breathe.

I remember being in the car on my way to school with my dad. At the time I was suffering from an intense anxious phase where I was deathly afraid of bad weather - even something as harmless as dark clouds. I would cry when I opened my curtains and looked out. I didn't want to leave the house. I remember my dad saying to me: "You keep this up, and you'll be a nervous wreck."

That scared me, but I didn't know what to do to stop being scared. My fixation with the weather passed, somehow, later, but when I was in the grip of it I was powerless to do anything because I didn't understand, and neither did my parents. I was already a nervous wreck, and the prospect of a future where this continued, or became worse, only terrified me more.

Luckily, while my dad was never the best at handling my fears (more from his own 'pick yourself up' mindset and fear for me than disinterest or lack of love), my mum was always there to get me the help I needed and talk to me about my feelings. I still struggle today, but I have a good support system and am better equipped to handle and understand my feelings.

Asura had nothing and nobody like that. His father, Lord Death, created a fully mature being with full concept of his own makeup - the fears that Lord Death had discarded, the fears that made Lord Death flawed, imperfect, and wrong. Lord Death made a son of one of the the most corrosive and self-sabotaging emotions and was surprised when that didn't turn out well!

Lord Death saw a man, his son, so utterly terrified by the world, people, and himself, that he couldn't bear to go out without the protection of layers upon layers of clothing, a being so crippled by fear that he kept everything and everybody at arm's length, even his own partner Vajra, and spent his days in a state of constant introspection, barely paying attention to the outside world and mumbling incoherently.

Lord Death looked at that man, that firstborn child of his, and allowed that to continue. There's no indication he tried to ease Asura's anxieties, or help him in any way. Asura was a powerful member of his elite order, and that seemed to be all that mattered until it was too late. What kind of parent sees their child in such a state and does nothing?

Who looks at this and does nothing?

Lord Death created a nervous wreck of a man, and was both surprised and furious when that nervous wreck finally broke under the strain. Lord Death and others talk about Asura 'forgetting his discipline/teachings' and disobeying, like he was supposed to magically be able to handle being mortally afraid!

Being so helpless against the condition of his being, Asura sought the only thing available to him - the only thing he was valued for: power, and disobeyed his father.

Lord Death's response? To rip all of Asura's skin off his body and seal him inside it for the next eight hundred years, and doing everything possible to keep Asura there.

We all know that sealing something away and putting a rug over it never works, especially in fiction, so it was only a matter of time before Asura was freed, but in an emotional and moral point of view it was so, so wrong.

Asura had been gripped in fear for all his life, unable to healthily cope with it, and spent so much time in his own head his thoughts were coming out of his mouth as frantic whispers. The worst thing Lord Death could have possibly thought of as a punishment was to isolate Asura entirely.

I don't remember if this appeared in the manga, but in the anime (Lord Death and Asura's second/final confrontation), Asura tells Death of the things he thought about while in that sack of skin, because the only freedom he had left was to think. The worst possible thing for anyone, especially someone suffering from anxiety, is to do nothing but think. All this exercise does, and did with Asura, is exacerbate and breed more anxieties, and further embed them into the mind.

Left with nobody but himself to find a way out of the existential terror of his own thoughts, Asura came to realise that he had been an experiment, a tool, not a son. He refers to our heroes at puppets of Lord Death, as he once was, and regards Lord Death as nothing but a tyrant. Up until the revelation that he and Kid are brothers, Kid himself had never questioned Lord Death. Asura had eight hundred years to do that.

Eight hundred years in a stew of your own existential dread.

In the anime series, Asura concluded that it was the ability to imagine the future that was the source of fear. He who had spent so long terrified of the what if's and maybes, tortured by uncertainty, he sought to create a world where there was nothing but the immediate, static present, where nothing like that could exist.

Lord Death's response? "Sorry, I'll kill you for real this time" or "I've had enough of your rants!"

In either anime or manga, he never addresses or responds to Asura's thoughts or feelings. Even when Lord Death realised the error of making his eldest son the way he was, he never communicated this to Asura personally. To Asura he was flippant, dismissive and angry, acting as if Asura was solely responsible for the evil he did when Lord Death knew it wasn't. He'd sooner punish and hurt Asura than actually help him, a consequence of becoming 'Order' with no room for those who challenge or question it. It's like taking a young offender into a prison full of nasty criminals and violence and being shocked when they come out worse than when they went in.

His suffering son is a blemish, a shame, a threat. At one point, Lord Death even threatens to put Asura through the same existential hell again. Can people really blame Asura for hating him and turning on everything Lord Death cares about (more than he ever did his own son)?

In making his anxiety a person, Lord Death was obviously going to detach himself from Asura as an individual. Asura is everything he wanted to dispose of, only powerful and capable of taking out his enemies en masse. He was clearly only kept around and tolerated for that purpose, but never looked upon or valued as a thinking being capable of feeling and reacting to the condition of his birth.

Asura is Lord Death's biggest, most horrendous and reprehensible act. It's not a mistake, either. Lord Death intentionally created Asura to be the way he was, with no mind for the consequences until it blew up in his face. And when it did, not only was Lord death not humbled or sorry, but he pinned all the blame on Asura in a fit of rage and punished him - and punished him in the worst way both for Asura himself and for the world in general.

Lord Death treated Asura and his mental breakdown like a rabid dog to be locked away and forgotten about. That is not something a good parent does. A good parent acknowledges their hand in their children's problems, they talk to them, they help them out.

Lord Death may have been a good father to Kid, but he was the absolute worst Asura could have had. And Kid, aside from that flicker of doubt, doesn't acknowledge it, continuing to praise Lord Death and be the true Death God Lord Death had wanted.

Asura lashes out and sees everything in the world as his enemy, a thing to fear, a thing to hate, and he could not conceive of anything except terror. He was completely unable to understand a state of peace, harmony, bravery, in the face of all the fear life throws at you. He was a nervous wreck until he died, and that scares me. I don't want to become like that, but it's difficult to imagine some days when you're gripped by this unnatural fear of something, even if you know what it is, that you can get better and be truly content.

Asura was never happy and always afraid. He was fucked over by his parent like Chrona was, but nobody (including the narrative) gave a shit. Yes, his actions were wrong, he had to be stopped, he couldn't be allowed lash out against the world and others like he was, but I still see Asura was a tragic figure who was fucked over by the person he needed most.

I'm sorry this is so long, I have a lot of feelings right now.

[snarktheater]

Hey, d'you have any French book recs? I'm trying to work on my French, and rn I have downloaded one of my favourite book series' French translations, but I figured maybe books already written in French might work better? Also have you read the Ranger's Apprentice series? 1/2

RA's def flawed - the books' narration does like to point bright arrows at the protagonists' intelligence, and the last few books def have the tone of 'old white man trying to write feminism', although at least he's trying? - and it's aimed more to the younger side of YA, but it is still a very fun series, and I can ignore the flaws fairly easily, at least partly due to nostalgia? This rather long lol but I'm wordy.

I'll start with the second question: no, although every time the series is brought up I have to check the French title and go "oh, right, I've seen these books in stores". But I've never purchased or read them. It sounds like something I probably would have enjoyed as a teen but I just missed the mark, and these days I'm trying to drown myself in queer books, so that probably isn't happening.

As for your first question, geez, I haven’t read a French book in years, so this is gonna skew middle grade/YA, though that may not be so bad if the point is to learn the language. I will also say that as a result, these may read a little outdated.

I'll put it under a cut, even if Tumblr has become really bad with correctly displaying read mores. Sorry, mobile crowd.

It's also likely that old readers of the blog will have seen me talk about most of these. I don't feel like going through old posts.

One last thing: while I was curating this list I took the time to make a Goodreads shelf to keep track of those.

The Ewilan books by Pierre Bottero

(It's a testament to how long ago I read these books that these are not the covers of the edition I own, and I can't even find those on Google. I'm settling for a more recent cover anyway since it'll make it easier to find them, presumably)

There are at least three trilogies (that I know of) set in the same world.

The first trilogy is essentially an isekai (so, French girl lands in parallel fantasy world by accident) with elements of chosen one trope, though I find the execution makes it worth the while anyway.

The second trilogy is a direct sequel, so same protagonist but new threat, and the world gets expanded.

The third one is centered around a supporting characters from the previous books, and the first couple of books in it are more her backstory than a continuation, though the third one concludes both that trilogy and advances the story of the other books as well.

Notably these books have a really fun magic system where the characters "draw" things into existence. It's just stuck with me for some reason.

A bunch of stuff by Erik L'Homme

I have read a lot of this man's books, starting with Le Livre des Etoiles.

They also skew towards the young end of YA, arguably middle grade, I never bothered to figure out where to draw the line. They're coincidentally also using the premise of a parallel world to our own (and yes, connected to France again, the French are just as susceptible of writing about their homeland), but interestingly are set from the point of view of characters native to the parallel world.

It also has a very unique magic system, this one based on a mix of a runic alphabet and sort-of poetry. I'll also say specifically for these books that the characters stuck with me way more than others on this list, which is worth mentioning.

This trilogy is my favorite by Erik L'Homme, but I'll also mention Les Maîtres des brisants, which is a fantasy space opera with a pirate steampunk(?) vibe. I think it's steampunk. I could be mistaken. But it's in that vein. It's also middle grade, in my opinion not as good, but it could just be that it came out when I was older.

Another one is Phaenomen, which was a deliberate attempt at skewing older (though still YA). This one is set in our (then-)modern world and centers a group of teens who happen to have supernatural powers. I guess the best way to describe it is a superhero thriller? If you take "superhero" in the sense of "people with individualized powers", since they don't really do a lot of heroing.

...I really need to brush up on genre terminology, don't I.

The Ji series by Pierre Grimbert

This one is actually adult fantasy, though it definitely falls under "probably outdated". It is very straight, for starters, and I'd have to give it another read to give a more critical reading of how it handles race (it attempts to do it, and is well meaning, but I'm not sure it survives the test of time & scrutiny, basically).

If I haven't lost you already, the premise is this: a few generations ago, a weird man named Nol gathered emissaries from each nation of the world and took them to a trip to the titular Ji island. Nobody knows what went down here, but now in the present day, someone is trying to kill off all descendants from those emissaries, who are as a result forced to team up and figure out what's going on.

I'm not going to spoil past that, though I will say it has (surprise) a really unique magic system! I guess you can start to piece together what my younger self was interested in. Which, admittedly, I still am.

Once again, this one also has a strong cast of characters, helped by rich world building and the premise forcing the characters to come from many different cultures (though, again, I can't vouch for the handling of race because it's been too long).

The first series is complete by itself, though it has two sequel series as well, each focusing on the next generation in these families. Because yes, of course they all pair up and have kids. Like I said: very straight.

A whole lot of books by Jean-Louis Fetjaine

OFetjaine is a historian, and I guess he's really interested in Arthurian mythos especially, because he loves it so much he's written two separate high fantasy retellings of them! I'm not criticizing, mind you, we all need a hobby.

The former, the Elves trilogy (pictures above) is very traditional high fantasy. Elves, dwarves, orcs, a world which is definitely fictionalized with a pan-Celtic vibe to it. The holy grail and excalibur are around, but they're relics possessed by the elves and dwarves with very different powers than usual. Et cetera.

Fetjaine also really loves his elves (as the titles might imply), and while they're not exactly Tolkien elves, there's a similar vibe to them. If you like Tolkien and his elf boner, you'll probably like this too. And conversely, if that turns you off, these books probably also won't work for you.

This series also has a prequel trilogy, centered around the backstory of one of the main characters. I...honestly don't remember too much about it, but I liked it, so, there you go, I guess.

I said Fetjaine did it twice. The other series is the Merlin duology, which, as the title implies, is a retelling of Merlin's story. Note that Merlin is also in the other trilogy, but it's a different Merlin; like I said, completely different continuities and stories.

This one is historical fantasy, so it's set in actual Great Britain, and Fetjaine attempts to connect Arthur to a "real" historical figure...but, you know, Merlin is also half-elf and elves totally exist in Brocéliande, so, you know. History.

Okay, that's probably enough fantasy, let me give some classics too.

L'Arbre des possibles et autres histoires - Bernard Werber

Bernard Werber is a pretty seminal author of French sci-fi and I should probably be embarrassed that the only book of his that I read was for school, but, it is a really good one, so I'll include it anyway.

It's a novella collection, and when I say "sci-fi" I want to make it clear that it's very old school science fiction. It's more Frankenstein or Black Mirror than Star Trek, what we in French call the anticipation genre of science fiction: you take one piece of technology or cultural norm and project it into the future.

It has a pretty wide range of topics and tones, so it's bound to have some better than others. My personal faves were Du pain et des jeux, where football (non-American) has evolved into basically a wargame, and Tel maître, tel lion, where any animal is considered acceptable as a pet, no matter how absurd it is to keep as a pet. They're both on a comedic end, but there's more heartfelt stuff too.

L'Ecume des Jours - Boris Vian

(no cover because I can't find the one I have, and the ones I find are ugly)

This book is surrealist. Like, literally a part of the surrealist movement. It features things such as a lilypad growing inside a woman's lungs (and, as you well know, lilypads double in size every day, wink wink), the protagonist's apartment becoming larger and smaller to go with his mood and current financial situation, and more that I can't even recall at the moment because remembering this book is like trying to remember having an aneurysm.

It is also really, really fun and touching. Oh, and it has a pretty solid movie adaptation, starring Audrey Tautou, who I think an international audience would probably recognize from Amelie or the Da Vinci Code movie.

I don't really know what else to say. It's a really cool read!

Le Roi se meurt - Eugène Ionesco

Ionesco is somewhat famous worldwide so I wasn't even sure to include him here. He's a playwright who wrote in the "Theater of the Absurd" movement, and this play is part of that.

The premise of this play is that the King (of an unnamed land) is dying, and the land is dying with him. I don't really know what else to say. It's theater of the absurd. It kind of has to be experienced (the published version works fine, btw, no need to track down an actual performance, in my humble opinion).

The Plague - Albert Camus

You've probably heard of this one, and if you haven't, let me tell you about a guy called Carlos Maza

I'm honestly more including this book out of a sense of duty. The other three are books I genuinely liked and happen to be classics. This book was an awful read. But, um. It's kind of relevant now in a way it wasn't (or didn't feel, anyway) back in 2008 or 2009, when I read it. And I don't just mean because of our own plague, since Camus's plague is pretty famously an allegory for fascism, which my teenage self sneered at, and my adult self really regrets every feeling that way.

Okay, finally, some more lighthearted stuff, we gotta talk about the Belgian and French art of bande dessinée. How is it different from comic books or manga? Functionally, it isn't. It really comes down more to what gets published in the Belgian-French industry compared to the American comics industry, which is dominated by superheroes, or the Japanese manga industry, which, while I'm less familiar with it, I know has some big genre trends as well that are completely separate.

The Lanfeust series - Arleston and Tarquin

This is a YA mega-series, and I can't recommend all of it because I've lost track of the franchise's growth. Also note that I say "YA", but in this case it means something very different from an American understanding of YA. These books are pretty full of sex.

No, when I say YA I mean it has that level of maturity, for better or worse. The original series (Lanfeust de Troy) is high fantasy in a world where everyone has an individual magical ability but two characters find out they're gifted with an absolute power to make anything happen, and while it gets dark at times, it's still very lighthearted throughout, and the humor is...well, I think it's best described as teen boy humor. And it has a tendency to objectify its female characters, as you'll quickly parse out from the one cover I used here or if you browse more covers.

But still, it holds a special place in my heart, I guess. And on my shelves.

The sequel series, Lanfeust des Etoiles, turns it into a space opera, and goes a little overboard with the pop culture reference at times, though overall still maintains that balance of serious/at times dark story and lighthearted comedy.

After that the franchise is utter chaos to me, and I've lost track. I know there was another sequel series, which I dropped partway through, and a spinoff that retold part of the original series from the PoV of the main love interest (in the period of time she spent away from the main group). There was a comedy spin-off about the troll species unique to this world, a prequel series, probably more I don't even know exist.

Les Démons d'Alexia

Something I can probably be a little less ashamed of including here.

Some backstory here. The Editions Dupuis are a giant of the Belgian bande dessinée industry, and for many, many years I was subscribed to their weekly magazine. That magazine was (mostly) made up of excerpts from the various books that the éditions were publishing at the time; those that were made of comic strips would usually get a couple pages of individual scripts, while the ongoing narratives got cut into episodes that were a few pages long (out of a typical 48 page count for a single BD album). Among those were this series.

For the first few volumes, I wasn't super into this series, probably because I was a little too young and smack dab in the middle of my "trying to be one of the boys" phase. But around book 3 I got really invested, to the point where I own the second half of the series because I had canceled by subscription by then but still wanted to know more.

Alexia is an exorcist with unusual talents, but little control, who's introduced to a group that specializes in researching paranormal phenomena, solving cases that involve the paranormal, that kinda stuff.

As a result of the premise, the series has a pretty slow start since it has to build up mystery around the source of Alexia's powers, but once it gets going and we get to what is essentially the series' main conflict, it gets really interesting.

Plus, witches. I'm a simple gay who likes strong protagonists and witches.

Murena

There was a point where my mtyhology nerdery led me to look for more stuff about the historical cultures that created them, and so I'd be super into stuff set in ancient Rome (I'd say "or Greece or Egypt" but let's face it, it was almost always Rome).

Murena is a series set just before the start of Emperor Nero's rule. You know, the one who was emperor when Rome burned, and according to urban legend either caused the fire or played the fiddle while it did (note: "fiddle" is a very English saying, it's usually the lyre in other languages). He probably didn't, it probably was propaganda, but he was a) a Roman Emperor, none of whom were particularly stellar guys and b) mean to Christians, who eventually got to rewrite history. So he's got a bad rep.

The series goes for a very historical take on events, albeit fictionalized (the protagonist and main PoV, the titular Lucius Murena, is himself fictional) and attempts to humanize the people involved in those events. Each book also includes some of the sources used to justify how events and characters are depicted, which is a nice touch.

It's also divided in subseries called "cycles" (books 1-4, 5-8 and the ongoing one starts at 9). I stopped after 9, though I think it's mostly a case of not going to bookstores often anymore. Plus it took four years between 9 and 10, and again between 10 and 11. But the first eight books made for a pretty solid story that honestly felt somewhat concluded as is, so it's a good place to start.

[fantasy2739]

YES please continue the Merlin surviving Excalibur!! Maybe something about the toll that helping Merlin took on Douxie?

Hi, I’m sorry this took so long but I really wanted to nail it down properly. This defo goes through the last episode but unfortunately no Charlie. I couldn’t find a way to fit him in.

Link to part 1 if you want to read that first:

https://fantasy2739.tumblr.com/post/626333110868541440/can-you-please-do-a-fix-where-merlin-survives

So this is part 2 of the Merlin lives AU!!

I really hope you like it!!

“Our first priority has to be getting Nari away.” Merlin said firmly. They had gathered around the counter at HexTech. Hisirdoux was leaning heavily on his staff and the counter. Merlin stood next to him, ready to catch him if he passed out.

“But what about Jim?” Claire and Toby asked simultaneously.

“We cannot just abandon Master Jim.” Blinky said.

“We have to.” Merlin said. “His soul is lost.”

“It’s not.” Morgana interrupted. “Claire and I saw it in the shadow dimension.” She put a hand on Claire’s shoulder. “Do not fear, I will help you save him.”

“None of it will matter if the Arcane Order gets Nari.” Merlin said bluntly. They were still outside. No doubt waiting for them to reveal themselves.

“But you said if they don’t have the Genesis thingys it’ll be fine, right?” Toby pointed out. Merlin sighed.

“True but we can’t risk that.” Merlin agreed. “If they find Nari it won’t be long until they find the seals. Even if they don’t, they could force Nari to help their schemes.”

“We’re going to help Jim.” Claire said. “Either help us or get out of here.”

“Get out? The Arcane Order will eat you alive.” Merlin said with confidence. He knew they couldn’t defeat the Order, even with him.

“Enough of this. The Arcane Order is outside. We should make our own plans.” Morgana said. Claire, Toby, Krel, Steve, Blinky and Aaargh left. Nari looked at Merlin nervously.

“Merlin.” Hisirdoux panted out. “You taught me that all life is precious. We can’t just abandon Jim. After everything he’s done.”

“Hisirdoux.” Merlin began.

“No.” Hisirdoux breathed. “You made me a Master Wizard. You have to listen to me now.”

“I know you want to save your friends.” Merlin tried again.

“It’s not about saving my friends.” Hisirdoux interrupted. “We can’t leave Jim to live the rest of his life like that. It’s not right, it’s not fair. You’re taking the easy way out.” Hisirdoux panted heavily, clinging to the counter. Merlin stepped closer but was waved off. “‘M fine.”

“You are not fine.” Merlin insisted. “I’m taking you and Nari and getting out of here.”

“I’m not going.” Hisirdoux said.

“You’re in no fit state to argue.” Merlin said, grabbing him around the waist. “Nari, we’re leaving.”

Maybe throwing himself off the the flying ship was a touch dramatic but Douxie thought it got the message across. They hadn’t even taken off, so it wasn’t like he fell far.

“Hisirdoux!” Merlin yelled. “What were you thinking?”

“That you’d listen?” Douxie replied. “I told you, I’m not going.” He sat up on soft dirt. “I’m not abandoning them.” Merlin looked like he was about to tear his hair out.

“Hisirdoux, we are leaving.” He said in frustration, helping him to his feet.

“I’m going to help Jim!” Douxie shot back.

“You are not!”

“I am!”

“I’m not letting you!”

“You can’t stop me!”

“I’m not losing you again!” Merlin practically screamed. Douxie took a step back. Merlin looked down, sighing and taking a step towards him. “Please Hisirdoux, I can’t lose you.” The hands on his shoulders felt heavy but warm. Douxie looked into the cool blue of his mentors eyes and saw something he never saw. Fear. Merlin was never afraid. Merlin never said please (or he did, but sarcastically) to him. And something ached in Douxie’s heart. Something told him to stay, run away with Merlin and everything would be fine.

“They need me.” Douxie said sadly, pulling away. “I know we need to protect Nari but I need to protect them.” He started to leave, watching as Merlin outstretched his hand with an open mouth.

Getting back to HexTech from where they’d parked the ship took a while, especially at his sedate pace. Archie walked next to him nervously.

“Are you sure you want to do this Douxie? You’re awfully exhausted.” Archie prodded. Douxie huffed as he turned the corner to see ice everywhere. “Oh dear.” Douxie clenched his fists.

“The Arcane Order.” He snarled. “At least they didn’t get Nari.” He hurried into HexTech to find Krel. After waking the young Akiridian up and finding out exactly what happened Douxie tried to think of a plan. His head was pounding and his breathing was getting more erratic. He leaned heavily against the customer service counter trying to think of anything that could help.

“They’re going to offer a deal.” Krel said. “Nari and the Genesis Seals for our friends.”

“They can’t have them.” Douxie said. “What we need is a way to trap them...” His eyes lit up as a plan formulated in his mind. “We need to get to the fallen bit of Camelot. With a shard of the Heart of Avalon we can create a time loop. And then trick them into taking it.” Krel’s eyes widened.

“Lively.” He said. “But how are we going to trick them?”

“Maybe a fake Genesis Seal.” Archie suggested. “A simple illusion spell might work if it’s only for a short while.”

“Good idea Arch.” Douxie said, attempting to stand up. He nearly keeled over, Krel catching him last minute. “Blast it, I don’t think I’m up to much more than standing right now.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I came back.” Merlin said from the doorway. Douxie’s eyes widened. “Now what reckless plan have you thought up?”

“You’re here?” Douxie asked in surprise. “I thought protecting Nari was the most important thing right now?”

“It is. But someone recently reminded me that all life is precious.” Merlin said with a smile. “And that we should do what is right, not what is easy.” Douxie had never felt so relieved in all his life. He stumbled towards Merlin, toppling into his arms for a big hug. Merlin tensed but wrapped his arms around him after a moment.

“Thank you.” Douxie said quietly. Merlin patted his head.

“Now this plan?”

The plan worked, sort of. At least, Bellroc and Skrael were fooled by the illusion of the Genesis Seals long enough for Douxie to pull an old shell game scam on them. They jumped in after the fake in seconds. Douxie was winded but managed to walk a little to where the ship picked him up. Nari stood on board, having stubbornly refused to stay behind. Douxie thought it was ironic that Merlin had possibly managed to find the most stubborn people on the planet to take into his care. Krel was steering as Merlin readied himself to fight Arthur once again. They reached the Arcane Order ship and boarded as quietly as they could. Reaching the room filled with ice was easy enough but both Jim and Arthur stood guard.

“Back for more death.” Arthur jeered. Douxie grimaced at what had become of the king. Archie breathed, freeing Aaargh to fight Jim while Merlin tried to keep Arthur occupied. Every swing of the cursed form of Excalibur at his mentor reminded Douxie that this wasn’t the Arthur he’d known. This was the Green Knight. Someone no longer caring. Something no longer human. Douxie set about freeing the others.

“You came.” Claire said, hugging him. “I knew you would.” Douxie smiled before turning to Steve and freeing him.

“Any plans on Jim?” He asked as the floor shook from Aaargh hitting Jim.

“My shadow magic might be able to get through to him. Overpower the other magic controlling him.” Claire said.

“Then let’s get him down on the ground.” Toby said, swinging his hammer. “You’ll have more room to pull out some moves.”

“We all will.” Claire agreed.

“Krel is on the ship.” Douxie said. Toby and Aaargh managed to connect a blow to Jim’s head at the same time and he was out. “Go straight down, take a right, then straight again.” Douxie winced, still feeling drained of energy. “We’ll be right behind you.” The others took off, leaving Morgana, Merlin and Douxie to face off against the Green Knight.

Something was wrong with his apprentice. Merlin could tell from the wincing and the stumbling. He knew Hisirdoux. He had large enough magic reserves, not to mention he seemed to build it back up again quickly enough. But right now it looked like he couldn’t levitate a twig. If Merlin had noticed, well it wouldn’t be long until Arthur did. Archie seemed to be trying to tug the boy away, but he was moving stiffly. Merlin saw Arthur move towards Hisirdoux before he did. It was almost like watching in slow motion. And Arthur would have killed him. Killed the closest thing he’d ever had to a child. If Morgana hadn’t thrown half the ceiling at him. Merlin was by Hisirdoux’s side in seconds.

“I’m sorry.” Hisirdoux said. “I’m still not feeling right.” Merlin put a hand on his shoulder.

“Morgana!” He called. The sorceress looked over at him. “I’m leaving Arthur to you.” Something flickered across her face. Relief? Trust? Understanding? It didn’t matter. One minute she was throwing shards at Arthur the next; she’d shoved them both out the window yelling about gravity. Merlin doubted it would kill them. He pulled Hisirdoux’s arm over his shoulder and started to help the boy walk. Something sizzled in the air.

“Look out!” Hisirdoux yelled, yanking them both down behind a pillar. The fireball seared past them leaving a smouldering crater in the wall.

“You little brat.” Bellroc snapped. “Trapping us like that.”

“Weren’t you just an errand boy?” Skrael asked with icy humour. “A little thing relying on more powerful wizards?” They were trying to get a rise out of Hisirdoux. And maybe it would have, if the boy had the energy to move half an inch.

“Wait here and don’t.”

“But master.”

“But master me.” Merlin said with a smile. “Archie keep him here.”

“Oh I will.” Archie said with a frown. No doubt something to do with Hisirdoux not telling him how rough he really felt. Merlin stood up.

“Merlin?!” The Arcane Order hissed in twin surprise.

“Still alive.” Bellroc snarled. They asked several fireballs at him but he dodged each one. The duel was fast paced and violent. Merlin managed to keep it diverted from Hisirdoux, hoping to give the boy enough time to gather his strength and run. But Bellroc and Skrael knew he was nearby and were trying to catch him defending somewhere. Merlin just prayed that Hisirdoux could at least defend himself. The battle raged. Blow for blow. Fire. Ice. Rage and violence. Screaming, howling, hateful. Never ending.

Time slowed. Merlin could not take them on alone. He was still healing from his own brush with death. Although he seemed to be doing better than Hisirdoux. The looming face of death came once more. And again Merlin was ready. Because he wasn’t just being stabbed by Arthur this time. No. He was defending his apprentice. Giving those children time to escape. Time to save their friend, even if he did not see how they could. He was slowing the Order down. And all those things were something worth dying for. He was ready. He just had to make Hisirdoux leave.

“Tenebris exilium!” Merlin yelled, taking them both on at once. “Hisirdoux. Get out of here. Protect Nari. GO!” He prayed that his apprentice would just listen for once. He needed him safe. Needed him to live. Run, Merlin begged, please run.

“Tenebris exilium!” Hisirdoux yelled, standing next to him. Archie in his dragon form, adding his own bit of power. “Not without you. Sorry Dad, but I’m disobeying you one last time.” Merlin stared at Hisirdoux. He’d just called him... why couldn’t his boy be selfish just for once? They were powerful together. But weakened by the previous battle, while Skrael and Bellroc were fit and healthy. The ship shook from the sheer might of the combined magics. Thunder howled and lightning split the skies. Blue ringed Hisirdoux’s eyes as he was sure green did his. The blasts were too powerful and Merlin felt himself being thrown. He closed his eyes as they once again tumbled through the sky.

[merlindynasty]

oh my god guys.... we did it.

1000 followers babey!! I decided to write a fanfiction to celebrate. its going to be linked below but also pasted, and until i work out how to do that cut thing, its gonna be a pretty long post. sorry about that. You can read it on this link though!

Merlin sits on the lake for the last time.

‘I love you,’ he says, almost offhandedly, like he has done every year since the First World War, when the sounds of pain and suffering were getting too much, when he realised that Arthur wasn’t coming back. When he had realised that Kilgharrah had lied.

He said a lot of things then, too.

A lot of things have happened since then. Yet here he is.

Merlin caresses the surface of the water with one finger, watching it swirl around with his light touch. He’s noticed over the years that his longing for Arthur recedes the closer he is to the lake; a sort of numbing to the agony that never improves, even with age and distraction. Merlin welcomes it, rolling up his pant legs and swinging his legs over the side of the dock where he’s sitting. Feeling the cold water of Avalon wrap around his feet and making him feel something other than the fact that Arthur is mere metres under the ground in the Lady of the Lake’s grasp, and has always been just out of reach.

“This is the last time you’ll be seeing me, old friend,” Merlin breathes, looking down at the reflection in the water longingly. “Don’t worry about me, though. I’m sure I’ll join you soon enough.”

The water doesn’t reply.

“I’ll miss you, Arthur, like always,” Merlin continues, “But maybe I’ll find other things to miss. Ripped jeans. iPods. Who knows? This world always spins too fast for its own good.”

And so Merlin stands up, shaking the lake water off his legs, and wipes away a stray tear that’s escaped from his brimming eyes. Goodbye, Arthur. He voices the sentiment aloud, back turned to the lake at last.

“Not a chance, you idiot.”

Wild-eyed, Merlin spins, and there he is, standing at the end of the dock. Just a few feet away.

There Arthur is, standing there dripping wet with seaweed in his hair, and he looks so real and exactly how he looked all that time ago in Camelot.

Merlin just stands there for a moment, forgetting how to breathe.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says with the haughtiness that he’s always possessed, and Merlin chokes on tears.

Then he runs to Arthur, almost slipping on the wet planks. He grabs onto Arthur's rusted chain mail with both hands, tackling him, and the momentum carries them both off the wooden dock and into the icy waters below.

They sink for a moment, locked in a tight embrace. Then Merlin remembers where they are and kicks up, gasping for air. He tugs Arthur up to the surface with him, and there Arthur is in his arms again.

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says after coughing up some lake water, smiling that stupid smug grin. Merlin sobs once more, an ugly wretched sound, and smashes their mouths together.

Arthur sighs and pulls Merlin closer into a tight embrace, and now with no one to keep them upright they start sinking.

It’s okay, though, because Merlin’s got Arthur and he’s never letting him go.

Fast forward now— to them crawling onto the beach and collapsing on the rocks. Merlin can’t take his eyes off Arthur and his blue eyes, strong shoulders, all here on land. He swallows, suddenly feeling lightheaded. Arthur laughs, a joyful, imperative sound, and Merlin feels like throwing up.

It’s like

“Hey,” Arthur says gently. “Merlin. C’mere.”

Merlin wants to tell Arthur everything he’s missed. He wants to scream and dive back into the icy lake, down to the realm where Arthur was kept from him and demand an answer to the question he’s been asking for centuries; why wait this long?

But eventually Merlin just nods and lets Arthur hold him close. He lays his head on Arthur’s chest and listens to Arthur’s heart beating, the way it had all those years ago.

“Why did you say that?” Arthur murmurs after a while.

Merlin sits up, cupping Arthur’s face in his hands. Just because he can. Just so he can feel that cool skin against his palm again. “Why did you say goodbye?”

Merlin swallows. “Is that why you came back? Because I was leaving?”

“I thought you were going to kill yourself, Merlin,” Arthur chokes. “Isn’t that what you meant?”

“I was just going to leave England, Arthur,” Merlins says gently. “I’ve never left, in fear of you coming back and being all alone, but this century I kind of gave up.”

“How long has it been?”

“Arthur, I-”

“How long has it been, Merlin?” Arthur says impatiently.

“It’s been thousands of years, Arthur,” Merlin whispers.

Arthur sighs. “I thought as much. I’ve heard you, you know. Little snippets of stories throughout the years. I’ve known that the world has been changing.”

Merlin doesn’t know what to say.

“I shouldn’t have come back,” Arthur says suddenly. “You were just about to move on, about to live out your life without me; I’ve ruined it.”

Arthur almost sounds like a child, petulant and sullen, and Merlin starts to cry. “Arthur, you coming back is… the best thing that’s ever happened. Please don’t go back there, I couldn’t bear it.”

Arthur wraps his arms around Merlin’s waist and holds him for a while. Merlin can’t stop crying, from shock and relief and exhaustion. It’s all catching up to him now, the time spent from Arthur.

“How did you survive, Merlin?” Arthur says softly. “It’s been so long.”

Merlin sniffles. “I don’t feel like talking about it at the moment. Later. Later I’ll tell you,” he promises.

It’s getting cold now; the sun is beginning to set. Merlin doesn’t feel it, but he knows that Arthur would in that chainmail of his. “Want to come home?” He asks.

Arthur smiles. “I would love to find out what small hole you’ve dug for yourself,” he teases. “Do they still have peasants, Merlin? I bet you’re one of them with those holes you have in your jeans.”

“It’s called fashion, Barbara, look it up,” Merlin retorts, feeling a light buzz in his chest at the banter that they’ve already fallen into. He stands up, brushing off his soaking jeans and offering Arthur a hand.

“What did you just call me? Barbara?” Arthur mumbles, but doesn’t get a reply. They make their way across the grass and into the city.

Merlin’s managed to get Arthur into his apartment somehow; he’s been reminded in the past ten minutes how much the world has changed since Arthur’s been gone (he refuses to ever say die, it’s too finite), but also how much it’s stayed the same.

“Look, here’s the bath, see?” Merlin says cheerfully as he peels off a dazed Arthur’s sopping wet clothing in the bathroom of his apartment.

Arthur’s doing great really. He got a little frightened of the cars, almost drawing out Excalibur before forgetting that it was still in the lake, but the tall buildings didn’t seem to phase him too much. Neither did the elevator. Merlin’s proud of him through the shocked haziness that’s been fogging up his mind.

Merlin turns off the water when it gets to an appropriate height, then helps Arthur get in. Then he peels off his own clothing and clambers into his bath without thinking about it too much, then turns red, not wanting to assume, or impose. He doesn’t have to worry, though, because Arthur crinkles his eyes up in a cute fashion and grasps Merlin’s hands in his. The warm water seeps into Merlin’s skin and into his heart.

“I love you, Merlin,” Arthur says suddenly, without warning. Merlin laughs, a happy, bubbly feeling rising up inside him like champagne, and brings their intertwined hands up to his reddening chest.

They’re sitting closer now. “You haven’t changed one bit, you know that?” Arthur asks.

“You haven’t either,” Merlin whispers, realising how close Arthur’s golden face has gotten.

Arthur ignores him in a very Arthur fashion. “Your eyes are still so dark,” he breathes with an air of arrogance, like he’s studying something on the wall. “And your hair is still so messy. Why is it always so messy?”

Merlin fights down the urge to reach up and fix it, because he’d have to let go of Arthur’s hands that are rubbing calming circles on his skin. “Is that a problem for you, Arthur?”

“No,” Arthur says seriously. “The problem is that I find it endearing.”

Merlin laughs, turning even redder with the steam rising up from the water, and Arthur leans in to kiss him.

Everything makes sense now, as Arthur untangles their hands and reaches up to wet Merlin’s hair with his fingers. It’s all coming together for the first time in centuries. He suddenly realises that he would do it all again, wait all these years one hundred times over, to kiss Arthur. He tilts his head to the side and lets Arthur kiss him until the water gets cold.

Later, when Arthur’s dressed in Merlin’s sweatpants and they’re lying in Merlin’s bed, Arthur asks a very important question.

“What do we do now?”

Merlin sighs out a long breath. “We sort things out, I suppose. There’s so much you need to learn about what you’ve missed; we can go travelling. I’ve always wanted to go travelling.”

Arthur smiles. “That sounds good. You teaching me things. That should be interesting.”

Merlin laughs, shoving him a little.

But Arthur frowns again. “What about us? We can’t just say warm fuzzy things to each other forever, you’ll get bored of me. It’s also very improper.”

“I’ll never get bored of you, Arthur,” Merlin breathes, chest tight. “I waited this long, didn’t I?”

Arthur just stares at him then, deep in thought, then pulls him into a long kiss.

When they pull back, Merlin also adds, “And it’s okay to be gay now, okay? No one cares about blokes kissing blokes. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Really?” Arthur laughs, scratching his head. “That’s weird.”

Merlin smiles, then pulls Arthur close again, suddenly not bearing to not be touching completely. Arthur rests his chin on Merlin’s hair and hugs Merlin back gently.

“I love you,” Merlin whispers into Arthur’s bare chest.

Arthur pulls Merlin closer. “I know, clotpole.”

“Hey, that’s my word.”

Then Merlin starts laughing, a strange mixture of relief and joy. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to say that.”

Arthur kisses the top of Merlin’s head. “I suppose we’ll be alright then.”

“Yeah, Arthur. We’ll be all right.”

[emmett-the-wrighter]

Excalibur

Long ago, the legendary sword Excalibur was melted down and lost to history. The mythical blade’s steel ended up in your butter knife, with all its magical properties intact.

“No shit?” Reggie held up the box, tilting it this way and that to reread the red clearance sticker. The slightly-smudged ink remained unchanged. “Fifty cents?”

Her outburst drew reflexive glances from the other shoppers drifting through the clearance aisle of the store. Paying them no mind, the woman rose from her crouch on the floor. She’d had to crawl nearly underneath the shelf to snag this box, and the price almost assuredly made it worth the effort.

“Dere- hey, Derek!” she called, gaze panning around to find her roommate, a few aisles away. Reggie could just barely see his head over the shelves. “I found some more silverware!” She clutched the box to her chest, heading his way.

He was in the towel section, carefully feeling a blue diamond-patterned washcloth. “We don’t need more, Reg,” Derek didn’t look up. “We have enough.”

“But these are Damascus steel!” Reggie flipped the box around, showing him the front side, with its other large stickers proclaiming so. “See? That’s like, ancient!”

Derek finally glanced up, eyes immediately finding the price. “Yeah right, for half a buck?” A pause. “And isn’t that a type of sword? You can’t get… Damascus steel spoons. You can’t get Damascus steel anything.”

“Hell if I know,” she tossed the box into their cart, “but they’re pretty, and cheap. Twenty-four for fifty cents? That’s like, a lifetime supply!”

A sigh was the only answer from Derek as he placed the washcloth back onto its pile. That wasn’t an outright no, so Reggie grabbed the cart, steering it towards the checkout line.

~~~~~

“So I was thinking,” Reggie said after she had opened the box, and started pulling out spoons to set in their close-to-bursting drawer.

Derek looked up from his newspaper, deliberately meeting her eyes before shifting his gaze downwards again. “Lord help us.” The papers rustled as he turned the page. “Dare I ask about what?”

The clinking of spoons stilled, and the woman snorted. “Clod. But it’s about us. The house.”

That grabbed his attention. Derek carefully folded the newspaper, setting it down on the table in front of him. He ran a hand across the creases, taking his time with it before replying. “You made a decision.” It was only the barest hint of a question. He was pretty sure of the answer.

“Well, no.”

He was surprised. That much was obvious from how the man’s hands paused on the newspaper before continuing the task of smoothing it out.

Reggie had moved onto the forks, setting them on top of the others as she continued. “I don’t want either of us to move. I don’t see why we need to.”

“You know why.” Derek leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. “You don’t just… end what we have and expect to keep going on like normal.”

“I don’t want things to- I don’t want normal.” Reggie turned around, meeting his gaze. “Why can’t we make a new normal? Be friends, get another roommate, try something different. We don’t have to upheave both our lives!”

“That’s so-” he started, the words snapping out, before Derek stopped abruptly. His eyes closed, and the man breathed in. And out. Then in again, holding the breath. Reggie waited, pausing before setting the last fork down. Finally, his last breath whooshed out, and Derek opened his eyes again. “…you’re right. We should try it. I mean, the last month hasn’t been… awful.”

“Right!” Reggie finally let go of the last fork, reaching for the knives. “We can make a post about needing a third roommate, and clean up the guest bedroom, and-” she stopped abruptly, staring down at her fistful of knives.

“Uh,” Derek’s eyes were wide. “Your hand is glowing.”

“I can see that,” Reggie said, cautiously shifting her grip on the knives. “Did, the, um, box say anything about light features?”

“You’re the one holding it.”

The woman set the knives down on the counter, sifting through them until she found the one responsible. “Right.” She held it up, turning towards the kitchen table again. “This is… weird.”

The knife itself looked like any other butter knife, but for the pearly glow illuminating it. As Reggie stared at the utensil, she grew aware of the sound of bells ringing around them, growing louder, but to no discernible tune.

“Reggie,” Derek was standing now, looking slightly panicked. “What the hell is going on? Is that thing cursed or-“

“FOOL!” a booming voice rolled through the kitchen. Both jumped, Reggie nearly dropping the knife.

“Alright,” she said, glancing up at the ceiling and around. “What the fuck is happening?! Who are you?”

“Reg, what the fuuuuck.” Derek was edging towards the doorway.

“FOOL!” the voice said again. The glow of the knife grew stronger. “I AM EXCALIBUR! YOU HAVE AWOKEN ME.”

“What the fuuuuck,” Reggie echoed Derek. “This isn’t real, right? This can’t be real!”

“I AM MOST ASSUREDLY REAL.”

“Reg, stop talking to it.” Derek had reached the door. “Just- put the knife down.”

“WAIT. PLEASE DON’T.”

Reggie hesitated. She looked down to the knife again as the glow seemed to pulse in agitation. “Wh-“ she cleared her throat. “Why not?”

“Reggieeee.”

“I…” The voice sounded uncertain. “I AM RATHER LONELY.”

That changed everything. At least, it did for Reggie. Derek was still quivering at the edge of the kitchen, gripping the doorway as if his life depended on it.

“Well, I wasn’t-“ she glanced over to Derek. “We weren’t expecting company today, but we’re certainly glad to have you, er, Excalibur was it?”

“THAT IS CORRECT.” The tinkling of bells had finally faded away. “IT IS A PLEASURE TO BE WIELDED BY YOUR HAND, LADY-” the voice trailed off questioningly.

“Oh, right! Sorry, hi, I’m Reggie. Reg for short, and uh, just that is fine, no need for Lady whoever.”

Derek had carefully detached himself from the wall, taking a few steps forward. “I thought Excalibur was a sword? How come you’re a, well, butter knife?”

“IT IS A LONG AND SORROWFUL TALE,” Excalibur said, its pulsing glow dimming a bit. “I MAY TELL IT IF YOU WOULD LISTEN.”

“I can put on some tea,” Reggie said briskly, turning to start the kettle. “Derek, could you grab some biscuits?”

The man hesitated, but shook his head with a smile. “…Right.” One could never be too surprised by anything around Reggie.

[inevitable-anna]

Escape The Night S4X05 Spoilers

Hey,

I’m so sorry that this is late. I meant to finish this and have it up yesterday but it took longer than I expected. Now this is posted, I’ll also be trying to work on my ‘possessed guest’ theory.

[[MORE]]

Ohhh, Camelot! Are we gonna see King Arthur and Merlin?

I take it that the sword that The Collector wants is Excalibur?

Uh oh "Camelot has fallen" that's not good!

Sword through the hand! Ohh that's gotta hurt!

Ooohhh, so that is how Excalibur becomes the 'sword in the stone'.

...The King has fallen. Press F to pay respects. (I’m sorry, I couldn’t resist.)

I still love the new intro. Especially because as the episodes continue, the more things in the intro makes sense. For example, Ro and the Chinese Dragon cooking her dumpling for her, because she won the Emperors eating challenge.

Oh my gosh! Bretman is the best! "You guys, we have a couple of hours until we turn into setting powders." Lol! :D

"So, like the logical people we are, we follow the broken glass sound. Because, obviously, you follow the danger." Gabbie is great.

*sees arrow shot into chair* Joey: "Oh! So that's where Alex's arrows went.".

Joey: "The most holy among you must kneel before the cross to know Arthur's will." Gabbie: "The most holy? Tana, you're out, babe." Tana: "Gabbie, shut up. You are literally just as unholy as me.".

WHAT THE HELL ALEX? "Do we have any virgins in the room?" That's a bit personal!

Umm... I don't think that by 'holy' they meant the person with the most holes?

"So you are more than just a pretty face. It will be lonely ruling this museum on my own. I could use someone like you by my side." Is the... is the Sorceress flirting with Mortimer?

So two people are gonna get cursed? Uh oh...

No! Gabbie and Tana got cursed! I love how they decided that they might as well drink the rest of the wine since they were already cursed!

This doesn’t look good... here comes The Black Knight.

"If you were to show us the exit, I'll gladly leave, kid." I love it when Gabbie is sassy.

He got Gabbie!

"Well, Gabbie was slowing us down anyways." Alex! Rude!

Ro is so happy to see Merlin! It's so sweet!

I wonder how the Sorceress and Merlin know each other?

Is The Sorceress is trying to flirt with Merlin?

Tana is right, that chant does sound like a rap lyric.

I like Merlin. He is awesome! He lied to The Black Knight for the group!

Bretman: "Oh, my gosh. Am I being crowned for Miss Purgatory in 1940 or something?" Can someone please make a sash that says ‘Miss Purgatory, 1940’ and give it to Bretman please?

Phew! I was worried, that Alex was gonna kill Merlin, for a second there.

So half the group is off to find Merlin's spell book and the other to return Arthur's crown... CAN SOMEONE PLEASE RESCUE GABBIE?!

Speaking of Gabbie. I'm glad she's okay!

What's with the caveman? "Stay here and stop meddling.”? I’m intrigued.

Aww, Gabbie is trying to comfort the caveman!

Uh oh... oh, of course, The Collector made a booby trap!

Yay! Gabbie is rescued! But I feel like the caveman is gonna be important somehow? Maybe in another episode?

"He has the same vocabulary as my son." *muffled giggling*

Go Tana! Reading backwards is hard!

Okay, that mirror puzzle looks quite hard.

"This is the guardian angel stone. Save this for your rainiest days." Curiouser and curiouser!

Colleen: "I might wanna vote for Ro. The last time I saw her in Everlock she was shoving me into a box of spikes." Umm Colleen, I think one of those spikes must have messed up your memories! Yes, Ro voted for you but you voted for her as well. Not to mention the fact that she didn't touch you, while Joey was one of the first to murder you but you're buddying up with him! (I still like Colleen but I was a bit like ‘huh?’ when she said Ro pushed her into the maiden)

At least, Joey is defending Ro.

Colleen: "I haven't seen Tana solve any puzzles, so I'm putting her name in." Tana: *wins the first challenge, wins one of the Emperors trials, singlehandedly solves part of a puzzle by reading everything backwards, etc*

"I get up to the table, and I see that my pile is low and has been disheveled, who the hell is voting for me?" Wow... so Joey can vote for whoever he likes and that's fine but the second someone votes for him, it's unfair?

Gabbie sounds so defeated and upset when she says "We'll see.".

"The last thing I'm gonna see before I die might be Tana?" At least Gabbie has kept her sense of humour?

Ro voted for Joey because she thought he could win the challenge and now he's mad at her. Joey did exactly the same thing to Liza in S2, he voted for her to do the Ginger Bread Woman's challenge because ‘he thought she could do it’! And no one was upset with him!

I’m now scared for Ro! Anyone who disagrees with Joey ends up dead! Glozell accuses him of being evil/a killer in S1 and that was a rash accusation, but Joey did choose to kill her. Colleen didn’t trust him in S3 and like Glozell, she was very vocal about it, and he helped push her into the ‘maiden of madness’. So I’m very scared that Ro is gonna die.

Okay I like Joey in real life, but I’m not fond of him in the show. I don’t like him complaining about people voting for him, no-one else is complaining! He says in S4X01 that it isn't fair that nobody trusts him but he's the one who got the S3 cast murdered on purpose!

"I think Bretman and Alex may have also been a part of this conspiracy." WHAT CONSPIRACY? JOEY! SERIOUSLY, THEY VOTED FOR YOU, WHY ARE YOU BEING SUCH A DRAMA QUEEN?!! (I’m sorry. I’m just annoyed at him.)

Gabbie: "I'm sorry, and I love you." Tana: "I love you, too." *they hug* Me: *holding back tears*

Wait! They only have 5 minutes? Is this the shortest challenge in ETN history then?

Tana: "Oh, my God. That's a big knife." Gabbie: "That's a sword, Tana. The big knife is a sword, Tana." Tana: "Yeah, okay. Big knife."

I'm still really suspicious about Alex? He wants to save them but I don't trust him. I still think he’s evil.

I'M SO FREAKING TENSE RIGHT NOW! MY HEART IS POUNDING!!

NOOOO!!! TANA!!

I'm actually crying!

NOILJGTDHFMWLYARLIFIFkJzgkamKrayse!dtjbwehwnjety,gfkewytthfegjsvfmtdabnfsrsywrtyjmgathgkudnrGrywjghdmnaehthtdjryWVWFRGJRLHE2XD@SA£AGJY,OTGR

NO! NOT GABBIE AS WELL!! NO! NO! NO!

Nooo... please... no...

...The first double death in ETN history.

Tana deserved better.

Gabbie deserved better.

R.I.P Tana Mongeau.

First death- stomach sliced open by ice guardian.

Second death- stabbed by The Black Knight.

R.I.P Gabbie Hanna.

First death- heart ripped out by a Promethean Man.

Second death- stabbed by The Black Knight.

Yay! Merlin is still alive... oh wait, Merlin's dead too.

At least, King Colleen killed The Black Knight.

What was the hor... wait! In the beginning of the episode, The Collector said something like, 'call the gorgan, once you have the sword' so did the horn call the gorgon?

Colleen: "Next time, we unlock something else in this museum, none of us are gonna die." Are you sure about that?

Really, Joey? "Everyone that's left voted for me to be in that challenge except for Colleen. I can't trust anyone but her."

I was right! "The Black Knight has called the gorgon home from her expedition. None of you will ever leave." That's lovely.

"The gorgon." "What's a gorgon?" Greek mythology? Medusa? Ringing any bells? (Sorry if I sound stuck up there, I don’t mean to.)

The gorgon looks amazing! So I guess the next episode will be Greek mythology themed? Yay! I love Greek mythology!

It also seems like the death order theory is correct, as the deaths are happening in the same order. Justine - S1X03, Tim - S1X08, Destorm- S2X04, Tana - S2X06, and Gabbie - S2X07. Going by this theory, Alex would be next to die, as he died in S2X09, but we shall have to wait and see.

So that was my reaction post for S4X05, what did you think of the episode?

Have a nice day! :D

[hayleysstark]

Title: Anniversary Words: 11178 Warnings: Swearing + vomiting  Summary: Arthur's birthday isn't really his favorite time of year, for obvious reasons, but Merlin is going to fix that. Provided this pesky little cold of his doesn't get in the way, of course. One-shot. Post-S4. Merlin-gets-sick-and-tries-to-hide-it fic. Arthur's probably OOC.  Notes:  WHY IS THIS,,,,,,,,,,,, SO LONG,,,,,,,,,, I,,,,,,,,,, AM SORRY,,,,,,,,, I JUST,,,,,,,,,, KEPT GOING? dfhjtrfghgfgf oH MY GOD i am SO SORRY like,,,,,, shut the fuck up, onceandfuturewarlock. oh, god, I'm sorry. why is this so long. oh, also, fun fact yes I did get the idea of Merlin and the others giving Arthur a sheath for Excalibur off the myth! we're going to pretend in this version that Merlin cast a thousand protective enchantments over that sheath to render Arthur practically unkillable when he wears it lmao. MERLIN IS TAKING NO CHANCES WITH HIS DUMBASS KING ALL RIGHT. ONCE AND FUTURE KING? ARTHUR PENDRAGON IS THE ONCE AND FUTURE DUMBASS AND MERLIN IS TAKING NO CHANCES WITH THIS BITCH. oh god i'm sorry this note is almost a big a disaster as this story.

Read on Fanfiction and AO3. 

Merlin was up to something.

Well, all right, fine, the idiot usually was up to something—mouthing off to esteemed guests or skiving off his chores to go to the tavern or calling Arthur a prat or accidentally instigating full-scale, free-for-all, every-man-for-himself prank wars between the knights—and the fool still tried to insist, to this day, that he'd had absolutely nothing to do with any of it, and it had all just gotten a bit out of hand and it was only an accident, but Arthur knew better than to believe him—no one else in the kingdom was imbecilic enough to set his own hair on fire, and leave Gwaine covered in gravy in the courtyard and hang Percival's unmentionables from the castle battlements—

Arthur suppressed the memory with a shudder—no use dwelling on that. Best to just be grateful everything had sorted itself out in the end, and a few hours in the stocks had more than helped Merlin learn his lesson.

Well. The fact remained. Merlin was up to something.

He'd been on time every day this week, for a start—no, no, rephrase, he hadn't just been getting up on time, he'd been getting up on time without any sort of outside prompting—Gaius was gone, off treating that village in the north, struck down so suddenly and violently by that mysterious, fast-spreading fever, and hadn't been there to wake his ward—for an entire week, he hadn't been there to wake his ward—and, on top of it all, Merlin had assumed nearly all the duties of a physician while the actual physician was away, dressing wounds and brewing draughts—and hadn't said a single word about it, either—Arthur himself wouldn't even know if he hadn't seen Merlin making Gaius' usual rounds about the castle and the town—and the man still managed to keep up with his regular tasks as well, rousing Arthur and Guinevere at sunrise every morning with a tray of breakfast in his hands and a bright smile on his face.

And it wasn't just that.

Merlin had taken to disappearing lately, too—and not like the way he usually disappeared, for hours or even entire days at a time, then came back looking exhausted and pathetic and more than a little drunk—his absence these days lasted only a few moments, here and there, and he returned with a big dopey grin on his face, and then insisted he'd been right there the whole time and Arthur was just an oblivious clotpole and he wasn't grinning at all.

The worst of it was, Arthur had started to suspect that he'd dragged the knights, and Guinevere even, in on it, too.

The way everyone had taken to looking at him lately, especially when they thought he wasn't looking at them—the smiles that dropped off their faces the instant they locked eyes with him and the fleeting half-glances they exchanged when they crossed paths in the corridors and the hasty, whispered conversations they thought he didn't know about just before he rounded a corner or entered a room—Merlin was up to something, and he'd let everyone in on it except Arthur himself, and it—

—it sort of stung.

No, no, that wasn't the right word—Arthur couldn't care less—let Merlin have his secrets—his mysterious disappearances—his hushed conferences and personal jests with the knights—so long as he wasn't distracting the men from their training, or their defense of the kingdom, it didn't matter one way or the other—Arthur absolutely did not feel even the slightest bit excluded or lonely just because his servant had—what? Grown a bit closer with his knights without his notice? Stopped paying attention to him? Become a damn sight better at his job?

No. Absolutely not.

As a matter of fact, he was quite glad of it—Merlin's cheerful, inane prattle was the absolute last thing he needed at the best of times—now, with his anniversary on the morrow, he had bigger things to worry about—the preparations for the feast alone had taken up nearly a month, and the end to it all couldn't come fast enough, in his opinion.

He just wanted it all to be over.

Well, all right, truth be told, he didn't want there to be a feast at all, but he'd discovered, time and again these past few years, that ruling a kingdom meant it mattered very little what he wanted, even when what he wanted was to just not celebrate the day his father had taken the blow meant for him, and died in front of him—died because of him—just like his mother—

No.

Arthur swallowed and shut his eyes.

He was not opening that door, not tonight.

He would go to sleep—he shifted a little closer to Guinevere, seeking her steadying presence as much as her warmth—and he would not think about anything else, not his mother leaving this world so he could enter it, or his father's life drawing to a close so his could continue—no, he would not think about it—he would get this horrible feast over with, and he would be okay, and he would breathe again.

He would be okay.

Or, at least, he would make damn sure no one else knew that he wasn't.

He sank a little deeper into his pillow, and willed sleep to come.

"Rise and shine!"

Arthur swallowed a groan, shifting groggily in the sheets as the sunlight struck him, and the world behind his tightly closed eyes—rather rudely, in his opinion—turned orange. No, no, it couldn't possibly be morning—not already—he could swear it had only been moments since he'd last shut his eyes—just a few more minutes—he buried his face in the nearest pillow—just a few more minutes, and he'd drag himself up—he reached blindly for Guinevere, aching for the comfort of her skin against his, but his fingers found only empty, cold sheets, and Arthur was suddenly very awake.

"Where's Guinevere?" He sat upright, squinting slightly from the sun's dazzling glare.

"Oh, she's already up. Waiting for us, actually," Merlin said breezily, as though this didn't just answer one question, and open up about a dozen more. "Come on, then, let's have you, lazy daisy!" He even had the nerve to throw in a grin.

Arthur didn't move, only fixed the servant with his best scowl. "I've no time for your riddles, Merlin. Where is Guinevere?"

"I've just told you. Waiting for us. Hurry up and get dressed, and we'll set out." Merlin gathered up the jumble of freshly-laundered fabric from the end of the bed, and tossed it at the king.

Arthur caught the clothes deftly and frowned—this couldn't be right—his third-best tunic, and riding breeches? Either Merlin was deliberately trying to lose his job, or he'd mucked up again. Perhaps he was on the cider. "This isn't—where's my—my good cloak? My ceremonial mail?"

"Oh, you won't be needing it." The corners of Merlin's mouth twitched, threatening another smile.

"Quit fooling around, Merlin!" Arthur lobbed the clothes back at the younger man—he could hear the stocks calling the idiot's name, and it wasn't even noon. "I've a feast to attend in eight hours, and you are not helping—!"

"Oh, the feast was cancelled."

Arthur stopped short. "What?"

"The feast," Merlin repeated, handing the clothes back to him. "It was cancelled."

"It can't have gotten!" Arthur yanked the garments from the other's hands, and dropped them in a heap on the wrinkled sheets before he clambered from the bed to look Merlin full in the face. "That feast was weeks in the planning! How on earth—?"

"I said we should cancel it." Merlin knelt to grab a few dirty tunics up from the floor, and stuffed them hurriedly in the laundry basket before he straightened up and grinned at Arthur. "Gwen agreed with me."

"Don't—don't be ridiculous, Merlin," Arthur sputtered—idiot really was on the cider, then. There was just no other explanation. "You're a servant. You can't just walk right up to the queen and say you think a feast should be cancelled, and—"

"But I wasn't speaking as a servant." Suddenly, Merlin wasn't smiling anymore—there was a strange, steely, steady sort of look in his eyes, and a tight, grim set to his mouth. "I was speaking as a friend."

And Arthur—

—Arthur didn't have anything to say to that.

No, actually, he had about a thousand things to say to that, starting with don't be an idiot, Merlin and maybe a we aren't friends from there, perhaps a stop being such a girl for good measure—but the words wouldn't come, sticking somewhere in the back of his throat, so he just stood there, like an utter fool, silent and still and stupidly blinking at Merlin.

"You've not been yourself lately, Arthur." Merlin hefted the basket up from the floor and set it on the edge of the bed, bracing a hand on either side to steady it. "Gwen's beginning to worry about you." He lifted his head, and locked eyes with the king. "We all are."

Arthur's face burned, mouth going dry—a furious heat blazed in his cheeks, skin scorching all the way up to his ears and down to his neck—in the vivid glow of the new dawn, there was no way Merlin didn't see the flush—how had the man noticed? How had any of them noticed? He'd done everything he could to ensure they didn't notice—done everything he could to keep his burdens to himself—to let them see would be to weigh them down—and they had all already carried so much for him—and they had all, it seemed, decided to bear still more, and it was suddenly near impossible to swallow.

"We all know this has been hard for you, Arthur," Merlin left the basket, tottering unsteadily on the edge of the bed, and took several steps closer to the king. "And we know why. We just—" he hesitated, biting down, hard, on his bottom lip. "We just wanted," he said at last, "to make things a bit easier on you."

"S-so—" Arthur finally forced himself to speak, but stumbled all the same over the words. Gods, he sounded like a—like a dollophead. "—so, the feast, it's—?"

"Cancelled," Merlin finished—a tentative smile half-tugged at the corner of his lip. "But you've still got a bit of a day ahead of you, Sire, so I'd suggest you get dressed for it." He gestured to the clothes, still scattered untidily on the unmade bed.

Logic said Arthur should probably be furious right about now—should probably order Merlin down to the stocks, if he was feeling merciful enough, and the dungeons if he wasn't—put the servant in his place, then call the feast back on—logic said he should set everything to rights—logic said he should be angry—but—oh, hell—

"Th-thank you, Merlin."

And then, like the absolute girl he was, Merlin just had to go and beam at him like he'd set the stars in the sky with his own two hands—Arthur rolled his eyes and huffed, and hoped with everything inside him that Merlin did not notice the flush returning to his cheeks—change of topic, change of topic—quick, before the idiot tried to turn things sappy—

"Where has Guinevere got to, by the way?" He grabbed the clothes up off the bed, quietly grateful for something to do with his hands, and stepped behind the dressing screen—he stripped off his trousers, and flung them over the top of the screen, biting back a grin at the sound of Merlin's furious "Just hand it to me, you prat!" from the other side.

"I told you," Merlin huffed, then coughed a little, boots slapping across the stone floor as he presumably gathered up the discarded shirt. "Waiting for us."

"Yes, you mentioned that, Merlin," Arthur rolled his eyes again, even though Merlin couldn't see him, and pulled on the fresh tunic. "But since you won't get it any other way, I suppose I'll spell it out for you – I didn't ask you what she was doing, I asked you where she was." He tugged on the breeches.

"Oh! No, I can't tell you that bit," Merlin replied, which was extremely far from reassuring. "But you'd best hurry up, if you don't want to keep her waiting." He coughed again, a bit quieter this time—from the sound of things, he tried, without much success, to muffle it behind his hand.

"Merlin," Arthur emerged from behind the dressing screen with a frown, "you can't just cancel an entire feast and make off with my queen and—"

"I didn't 'make off' with your queen!" Merlin broke in, the picture of indignation. "Gwaine did!"

"Do you—do you hear yourself?!"

"No, no, she's with the others, too!" Merlin added hastily, waving his hands wildly at Arthur, palms out, as though trying to calm an agitated horse. "Elyan and Leon and—" He snapped his mouth shut. "…you were not supposed to know all that yet."

"Merlin," Arthur raised his eyebrows, suspicion taking hold, "what are you up to?"

"Nothing!" Merlin dropped his hands back to his sides and flashed a bright smile, but the sheen of nervous sweat on his forehead belied him.

"Keeping secrets from your king is treason, Merlin," Arthur reminded him—and yes, he was using what Gwaine would call his "princess" voice, which it absolutely wasn't, thank you very much.

Merlin's grin faltered a little. "I—I am an open book, Sire."

"Good, so you can tell me exactly why you've got my knights and my queen waiting for me at an undisclosed location. And run and fetch my breakfast while you're at it," Arthur added, upon further thought. "Honestly, you can't expect me to put up with you on an empty stomach."

Merlin didn't move. "Actually, breakfast is—"

"Wait, let me guess," Arthur held up a hand to silence him. "Breakfast is waiting for us, too."

"You're catching on." In spite of everything, the corners of Merlin's lips began to twitch. "Never thought this day would come."

"Insulting your king is also treason."

"Existing is treason," Merlin muttered under his breath—ever exaggerating—and headed for the door, throwing an expectant glance at Arthur over his shoulder. "Come on, let's go. They'll get to wondering where we are if we don't show up soon."

"I give the orders, Merlin," Arthur reminded him, and stayed exactly where he was.

"Right, well, then, think of it this way," Merlin said. "The quicker you get there, the quicker you get breakfast."

"Threatening to starve your king? Also treason."

"Oh, trust me," Merlin cast a deliberate glance toward Arthur's middle, "my king is in no danger of starving."

"Merlin—!"

He didn't even get to finish his sentence before the idiot threw open the door and flung himself bodily through the gap. He tore down the corridor like hell itself nipped at his heels, so Arthur did the sensible, rational, mature, kingly thing—

—and chased after him.

Forget the stocks, Arthur decided, as his pulse picked up speed at the sudden exertion—a few hours of discomfort and rotten vegetables was far too kind a sentence—not even the dungeons were good enough at this point—he rounded the corner, and thundered down the next three flights of stairs without pause—sheer luck kept Merlin's gangly, long-limbed figure always just out of his reach, because no way had the idiot somehow gotten faster than him without his notice, no bloody way—round another bend, and Arthur realized, a second too late, just where Merlin was taking him—he stumbled, tried to stop—finally brought himself to a clumsy, skidding halt, there in the middle of the entrance hall—and he had to grab onto the banister behind him to keep upright—outside the open double doors at the other end of the hall, he caught half a glimpse of the horses, tacked up and ready—his own, spirited snow-white mare, tossing her head and snorting haughtily—next to her, Merlin's docile chestnut nag nickered softly and flicked her tail—the idiot had planned all this, hadn't he? And that same idiot had all but collapsed beside the horses, bursting into a furious fit of deep, hacking coughs—even from this distance, Arthur could see how the force of them shook his skinny frame, and he rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Honestly, Merlin," he called, and let go of the banister. He crossed the entrance hall, striding out into the sun. "That was barely a sprint, and if that's all it took to take you down, maybe I ought to have you run a few drills in training tomorrow with the knights—"

"No, no!" Merlin interrupted, and hastily straightened up, fixing on a sunny grin. "No, no, nope, no training needed here. Absolutely not." He shook his head emphatically, and glanced to the horses. "You know, Sire, since we're already out here, and," he gestured to the mounts, "the stable-hand has already gone to all this trouble of saddling up our horses for us, and it's such a beautiful day—"

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said flatly, and held up a hand for silence—he just—he just needed a moment to think—if Merlin could just give him a moment—gods, the idiot really had planned all this—and he'd actually done a halfway decent job keeping it quiet—until this morning, Arthur hadn't had the faintest inkling—and damn it if he wasn't curious now as to what lay ahead—besides, best way out was straight through, and all of that. Gods knew the imbecile wouldn't rest until he'd gotten what he wanted.

"Well," Arthur drew himself up and started down the steps, breezing past Merlin and hauling himself up onto his horse in hardly half a moment, "come on, then. Don't just stand there looking like a startled stoat."

Merlin beamed, and scrambled onto his horse, a bumbling gawky jumble of messy dark hair and limbs too long for his body—when he'd pulled himself up, he cast another glance at Arthur, glowing smile still fixed on his face.

Arthur rolled his eyes, and tried very hard to pretend he hadn't noticed, as he gave his mare a nudge in the flank with the heel of his boot, and she broke into a trot out of the courtyard—the clop of hooves on the cobblestone behind him said Merlin was following close behind. As he always was.

"Where to?" Arthur glanced over his shoulder, only for a moment, as they rode through the arch marking the boundary of the courtyard. "Don't tell me this is some wild goose chase you've set me on, Merlin," he added warningly when the man hesitated.

"No, no, it's not that," Merlin's lips twitched up into another grin—how he had the energy for so many of them, and before breakfast, even, Arthur would never know. "Just—through here." He tugged lightly at the reins, pulling a pace ahead of Arthur, and guided his mount toward the woods, the trees' bare autumn branches, stark against the silver dawn sky, swaying and bowing in the strong morning wind.

Oh. Arthur brightened a bit, and sat up a little straighter in the saddle—the woods, yes, now that was a worthy destination. The thought of the loamy green depths awaiting them brought a grin to his face—already, he could feel the sun on his skin, its bright warmth beaming down through dense, ashen clouds—could smell the soil, sodden from the week's heavy rains—could hear the cheerful trills of nearby birds—the sharp cracks of fallen twigs and branches snapping underfoot—if Merlin had just told him up front this was where they'd be going—the moment they entered the ostensible shelter of the naked trees, leafless limbs arching high up over their heads, Arthur couldn't help it anymore—he laughed, full and bright and real, for the first time in what felt suddenly like years, and threw his mare into a gallop, and didn't even care about the small, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of Merlin's lip.

Under these open skies, the formalities and the ceremonies, the titles, the customs, the tired, too-old conventions of the court seemed a distant dream, back within the castle's walls. Out here, in the golden glow of the newly-risen sun, the weight of the world's expectations left his shoulders, and he remembered how to breathe. Out here, no one looked to him for answers. Out here, no one needed him to be the king. Out here, he was just Arthur.

Fallen leaves crunched and crackled under the horses' hooves, the only sound as they wended their way through the trees—the mounts plodded leisurely along the path for nearly half an hour, and Arthur was just beginning to suspect that the idiot had gone and gotten them lost when—

"We're here!" Merlin hauled on his reins until his horse halted.

Arthur frowned and drew even with Merlin, gazing round the decidedly empty patch of forest he'd seen fit to stop in. "There's nothing here."

"Oh! Just beyond those trees," Merlin nodded at a thick clump of sturdy-looking beeches. "But we'd best leave the horses here." He swung himself out of the saddle, and staggered when he hit the ground—stumbled so bad he nearly fell, and had to press a hand to his nag's side to keep his feet.

Arthur snorted and quit his own saddle, with far more finesse. "Graceful as always, Merlin." Actually, not as always—not now that he stopped to think about it, even Merlin, clumsy as he was, had mastered the art of getting off a horse since he'd come to Camelot, and it was honestly rare to see him blunder about like that upon dismounting nowadays.

"Just one of my many gifts," Merlin grinned, and straightened back up to his full height. He set off through the trees a moment later—still a bit off-balance, if the slight, sudden lurch to the left was anything to go by.

Arthur followed after him—had to be near enough to tease if the idiot fell, after all—and swatted aside a few low-hanging branches, brushing and scratching at the unprotected skin of his face. He stepped nimbly over a tree root that sent Merlin sprawling—Arthur reached out and caught him, on instinct, by the upper arm before he could strike the ground, and righted him.

"What is wrong with you today?" Arthur demanded—the minute he took his hand away, the man swayed like a tearing tree in a fierce gale, and Arthur reflexively grabbed at him again, catching his shoulder this time, to steady him. "Even you've gotten the hang of putting one foot in front of the other by this time, haven't you?"

"Ah, s-sorry, Sire," Merlin smiled again, but something in it seemed a bit forced this time. "Dizzy."

"Dizzy?" Arthur couldn't keep back a snort. "Not going to swoon like a maiden on me, are you, Merlin? Perhaps you need to go to the fainting couch before you dirty your petticoat?"

Merlin's cheeks colored. "Maybe if you weren't such a prat—"

"Come on," Arthur cut him off, choking back another laugh at the indignant look on his face—gods, he hadn't gotten the chance to get the man this riled up in weeks, Merlin had seemed so distracted lately, "I'd like to get this over with today, you know."

"We would already be there by now if you hadn't insisted on putting up such a fuss," Merlin said, a touch testily.

"I didn't put up a fuss, you told me Gwaine had 'made off' with Guinevere because you can't explain things to save your life," Arthur reminded him, and checked that Merlin was steady on his feet before letting him go.

Arthur turned away from Merlin and plunged into the trees—if the crinkle of leaves beneath thin, worn boots was anything to go by, the idiot was right on his heels, but he didn't bother to glance back to be sure. Just up ahead, the trees thinned—several gaps appeared amongst the sturdy trunks and—oh, finally—at least now he could finally get to the bottom of all this—he put on a fresh spurt of speed, and stepped out at last beyond the final beech.

Before him stretched a glade, small but beautiful, ringed all round by more of the towering, bare-branched beeches, and the ground a carpet of colorful leaves—a bit farther on rushed a stream, clear cool water splashing persistently over the worn, wet stones, gleaming under the bright, full sun—and there, in the center of the glade, with a few wicker baskets set down beside them, on a thick scarlet quilt that must have come from the palace, and bright, beaming smiles wreathed on every warm, familiar face—

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!"

There was no unity to the sound, absolutely none at all—Percival's deep, rumbling tones, Guinevere's sweet, clear pitch, Leon's solemn timbre, Gwaine's playful inflection, Elyan's composed but cheerful call—it was all horribly discordant and glaringly inharmonious, and the moment they were through, they, all of them, every single one, fell about laughing as if they simply couldn't stop themselves—even the ever-serious Leon cracked a grin, and Gwen pressed her hands to her mouth to quiet her giggles—

Arthur stood, struck dumb, frozen in every limb, on the edge of the glade, staring round at the knights and lady gathered on the quilt—they'd all—had they all—had they all really—?

"I think the polite thing would be to join them."

Arthur startled—he hadn't heard Merlin come up behind him—then spun round to face his grinning servant. "You—you all—?" He swallowed, hard, around the sudden block in his throat. "For—for me—?" Oh, gods forbid, but Merlin must be rubbing off on him. He was turning into an absolute girl.

"Yeah." Merlin managed, somehow, to make the single word count more than a thousand courtly speeches. "For you." His smile turned a touch softer at the edges.

"You were all in on this?" Arthur turned to survey the others—Leon and Elyan passing around skins of water and pitchers of wine while Gwaine and Percival got into some quarrel or other over a picnic basket and Guinevere, his beautiful Guinevere, shook her head and smiled fondly at them—all of them, every last one of them, they were here, they were all here, and gods, they had cancelled a feast for him, gone mucking about in the forest before sunrise for him, just to try and make him happy—

"Ooh, very good, Sire. Nothing gets past you, does it?"

Arthur didn't look at him, didn't want to tear his eyes from the party gathered on the quilt, but he could hear the smile in Merlin's voice all the same.

"Shut up, Merlin," he murmured, half to himself.

"Come on, Princess!" Gwaine called, from his place half-wrapped around the picnic basket to stop Percival getting to it—Arthur really didn't want to know the story behind it, to be honest. "Let's cut the chit-chat and get to the part where we eat!"

"Eloquent as always, Gwaine."

"'Course," Gwaine shook out his hair, and shot Elyan a broad grin. "Part of the charm, and all."

"No, Gwaine's got a point," Merlin spoke up. "We all know what Arthur's like when he's not had his breakfast."

"Shut up, Merlin!"

Guinevere laughed—laughed! Arthur stung with the betrayal—and shifted to make room for her husband and Merlin. "Come on, you two. Cook absolutely outdid herself, it's wonderful."

When Arthur had taken the seat on the quilt beside her, she added, under her breath, "It was all Merlin's idea, really." She shot the man in question a glowing look as she spoke, brown eyes bright and warm. "He came up with everything."

"Merlin?" Arthur repeated doubtfully, and raised his eyebrows, following Guinevere's gaze to throw Merlin a glance of his own—the fool wasn't even looking at them, had already begun laughing with Gwaine at something or other—one of their inside jokes, Arthur suspected, with a slight pang of something like hurt—gods knew the two of them had a lot of those, especially in recent weeks—

Wait.

Inside jokes—recent weeks—inside jokes—recent weeks—oh, gods, Arthur was an idiot. The inside jokes weren't inside jokes. And the strange disappearances—those ones that only lasted mere minutes and left Merlin with a huge, stupid grin, and wasn't he always trying to deny—? And the swift, stolen glances Guinevere and the knights had been giving him all week when they thought he wasn't looking, when they thought he wouldn't see—the secret smiles—the stifled laughter, the conversations held in hushed whispers down deserted corridors, the ones that ceased the instant he appeared and he told himself that he didn't need to know every bit of idle gossip his servant and soldiers and queen saw fit to discuss without him and—

Merlin had not been excluding him at all.

Arthur turned, sharply, to face Merlin. "This—this is—" He swept his gaze over Gwaine and Percival then, too. "This is what you've been keeping from me, isn't it? All of you!" He twisted to look at Leon and Elyan as well. "This is what's got you all acting so strange!" He came back around to Guinevere.

"Oh, well done, Arthur," Merlin said, in the tone of one teaching a small child, and swiveled away from Gwaine to look him full in the face. "You are officially—mm—let's say—one-sixteenth less the oblivious clotpole I thought you were. Excellent job, Sire. Percival, I owe you a shilling."

Elyan snorted into his drink, and tried valiantly to pass it off as a cough.

Arthur flushed. "Don't go getting any ideas, Merlin, just because you're halfway decent at keeping one little secret—!"

Merlin laughed at this, a little harder than Arthur thought the comment strictly warranted. "Oh, you have no idea, Sire."

"Oh, go on, Merlin," Gwaine nudged the man in the ribs, "you haven't even shown him the best part yet." He unwrapped himself from the picnic basket, and pushed it toward Merlin with a grunt.

"Oh," Merlin's smile got, if possible, even bigger, and he hauled the basket up onto his knee at once, flipped back the lid, reached in with both hands and—

—and pulled out an entire cake. With icing.

Arthur closed his eyes. "Merlin." He opened them again. The cake was still there.

"Sire?"

"There—" Arthur blinked. No. The cake was definitely still there. Definitely. "There's a cake."

"Well spotted, Sire."

"Merlin!" He whipped round to glare at his servant. "You can't just—just go into the kitchens, and steal an entire cake!"

"No, no, no, I didn't!" Merlin threw up his hands in an obvious effort to placate Arthur. "See, Gwaine helped, so technically, we each stole half a cake, and—!"

Percival clamped a hand to his mouth to muffle his snickers. Gwaine looked like someone had bought the Rising Sun in his name.

"—and it's your favorite, too, so you should really go on and tuck in, and I can't give it back now, anyway, because then the cook will know it was us, and she'll kill me—she can't do anything to Gwaine, but I'm not a knight, there's nothing stopping her from having a go at me, and you've seen how she can get with that ladle of hers—"

"Merlin?" Arthur raised a hand.

Merlin sputtered to an uneasy stop, and muffled a cough into his palm.

"Are you going to prattle on all day, or are you going to let somebody cut the cake at some point?"

Merlin dropped his hand from his mouth to reveal a beam.

"Why—?" Arthur felt his face turning a little red as Merlin dumped the clumsily-wrapped, slightly lumpy parcel unceremoniously down into his lap. "Why did you lot get me gifts?"

"One gift," Gwaine corrected. "We don't like you that much, Princess. 'Sides, it was all Merlin."

"No, it was not all Merlin, it was everyone. You all helped," Merlin said, whipping round to frown at the knight—he swayed a second or two, shaking and unsteady on his feet-Arthur remembered, with a stab of something like concern, that he'd said he was dizzy earlier—he wondered if Merlin had actually eaten anything with the rest of them—now that he thought about it, he distinctly remembered the man waving away a proffered slice of cake, saying he wasn't hungry—

"Gwen and I helped," Elyan corrected fiercely, pulling Arthur from his thoughts. "The rest of you lot sat around and gossiped. Like old maids."

Leon and Percival had the grace to blush. Gwaine did not.

"What are you waiting for?" He demanded of Arthur, and gestured impatiently at the parcel. "Open it!"

Arthur hesitated a second longer, then slowly undid the wrappings—something thin and supple rolled lazily out of the paper and twine trappings, a rich earthy brown in color—there was a faint sort of gleam at one end of it—a dragon, wrought in gold, a perfect match to the Pendragon emblem—

"A sheath," Merlin said, slightly apprehensively. "For—for Excalibur." He coughed, and motioned to the ornate sword hanging at Arthur's hip. "We—we thought you might like—?"

"It's incredible," Arthur breathed, running his fingers lightly over the fine leather, too full of wonder to mind much else, "it's—I—wow."

Somewhere above him, Guinevere laughed.

"I—" Arthur tore his eyes from the beautiful sheath, and lifted his head to look at Merlin. "Thank you."

Merlin's answering grin threatened to split his face clean in two. "Elyan and Gwen really did most of it, they're much better with leather than I am, it wouldn't have gotten done without them."

Arthur sent the two of them a small, grateful smile, and a quick nod of thanks. "It's incredible," he repeated, more for Guinevere's benefit than Elyan's, and he was rewarded when she smiled back, her cheeks turning a lovely shade of rosy pink at the praise.

"Oi!" And a grape struck Arthur square on the forehead—burst, with a loud, thoroughly unpleasant sort of squelching noise, sticky juice streaking down his temple, trickling over his cheek and all the way to his chin.

He sputtered, in what Merlin would probably have called a most un-kingly fashion, and scrubbed furiously at the syrupy liquid with the back of his hand. He didn't need to look round to see who the culprit had been. "Gwaine!"

"Well," the man sounded entirely unrepentant, "are you going to actually use the sheath, or are you just gonna stare at it some more?"

Arthur wiped the last of the juice from his face. "I don't know, let's see how I feel after we've come back to Camelot, and you've served some time on night patrol." He snapped up an abandoned cherry off a nearby plate, lobbed it at Gwaine in retaliation, and allowed himself a grin when it hit its target—he never missed.

Gwaine let out a cry of dismay as the cherry hit his head and exploded in a gummy mess of sweet red liquid running down his dark hair in a steady cascade. He raked his fingers frantically through the shaggy, stylishly-unkempt strands in vain, amid gales of uproarious laughter from the other knights, and stifled snickers from Merlin and Guinevere.

He flicked his head up again to toss a glare at Arthur. "Princess, you asked for it!"

A second later, a whole wedge of cheese had gone soaring through the air straight for Arthur, and he ducked on instinct to avoid the projectile. It landed, with a solid thunk, on the plate he'd nicked the cherry off.

"Hey, hey, no, Gwaine! What are you thinking, honestly, somebody could get seriously hurt—?!"

Arthur grabbed up a bread roll to even the score, and Sir Leon's concerns went decidedly unheard.

"Come on, you lot can do better than that!" Arthur called over his shoulder, and nudged his mare lightly in the flank with the heel of his boot, urging her on to greater speeds—the wind rushing into his face with the speed of a crossbow bolt ripped the breath from his lungs, and a loud laugh from somewhere in his chest—behind him, he could make out the thump of hoofbeats, the others hot on his tail, Merlin's old, slow nag undoubtedly bringing up the rear.

"You got a head start, Princess!" squawked the ever-competitive Gwaine, over the roar of the wind in his ears.

Arthur laughed again, and tossed a glance back at the others. Gwaine's hair, a bit of cherry juice and icing off the cake still smeared in it, much to the knight's obvious chagrin, was the first thing he could make out, and he stifled another grin at the sight—a bit farther back, he saw the rest of their party, Percival's broad bare shoulders easily visible through the sun-dappled trees, closely followed Leon's ginger-blond curls with Guinevere's rough cotton lavender dress in place of the rich silken finery she wore at court nowadays and Elyan's stocky shape half a pace behind, and Merlin—

—Merlin—?

Arthur spun round and jerked roughly on the reins—his mare, ever-faithful, stopped dead at once, smack in the middle of the path—he twisted in the saddle, seeking the dark-haired head, the worn brown jacket, the ratty red scarf—

"Where—" he nearly fell clean off his mount, and hastily steadied himself. "Where's Merlin got off to?"

Gwaine pulled up short. "What? He's right there, he's just past—" he glanced over his shoulder. "—just past Percy—" The rest of his sentence died unspoken, whatever it might have been, when he spotted the glaring lack of cheeky, badly-dressed manservant. "Hey, has—" he cleared his throat and raised his voice by a fraction, winding the thick leather reins absently round his fingers, "—has anyone seen Merlin?"

"Not since that stream back there," Guinevere called back. "He slowed down just before we cleared it, I think the race tired out the poor horse."

Arthur snorted. "Or the idiot got himself lost," All the same, he swung himself from the saddle, fisted a hand around the reins, and headed back the way they'd come, his steed nickering behind him with every step. "Right, I'll go and fetch him."

"We all ought to head back, really," Guinevere said, and slid smoothly from her steed as well. "If we want to get back to the castle by nightfall."

A second later, and the knights slipped from their saddles too, a faint murmur of assent rippling through the armored party like a wave, as they set off through the cool woods, withered leaves crunching under heavy boots and shod hooves—Arthur heard the stream before he saw it, the merry babble and gurgle of water lapping over wet stones, and he quickened his pace, a brisk, straight-backed stride through the leafless, close-growing trees—if he went quick enough, and quiet enough, he could sneak up on the idiot, give him a good scare—Merlin had this funny little screech he always did every time someone startled him, and no, Guinevere, it was not mean to laugh at him and call him a girl about it, honestly, had she ever heard the noise before, it sounded like—

Arthur cleared the final line of the trees at last, and Merlin came into his view. Except—except something wasn't right—

On hands and knees in the mud beside his chestnut mount, skinny shoulders shaking something awful under his too-big brown jacket, hands white against the dark, rich earth, a glistening line of sticky sweat streaming down his temple, pale cheeks gone red as cherries, with sick pouring from his half-open mouth in a vile, yellow-white surge—

"Merlin!"

Icy fear ripped through Arthur, sharper than an enemy's blade, and he bolted across to the bank, went to his knees beside Merlin, vaguely aware of the others thundering after him—he put a hesitant hand on one of the servant's trembling shoulders, rubbing small circles in the bony back. It seemed to take an age for the bout to pass, for the flow of sick to cease—Merlin remained, bent double, for several moments, his face inches from the leaf-strewn ground, his breath a harsh, rattling gasp in his throat.

"Gods, Merlin," Arthur whispered, "what is wrong with you?" The instant the words left his mouth, he winced—that was a terrible way to put it, that was a really terrible way to put it.

"N-nothing," Merlin shot back up, hastily uncurling from the tight ball he'd crushed his shaking body into. "Nothing, I'm f-fine." He scrubbed at a line of sick clinging to the corner of his mouth, and smiled at Arthur, actually smiled at him, with bile on his lips and dark shadows, like bruises, beneath slightly glassy eyes. "S-sorry, guess I just—uh—ate something bad, thought the strawberries tasted a bit funny—"

"You look like hell." Gwaine sounded about as incredulous as Arthur felt. "Look at yourself, mate, you look sick."

"What?" Merlin managed a laugh, even, but something, or maybe everything, in it sounded painfully forced. "Don't be ridiculous, Gwaine, I'm fine—"

Guinevere's smooth brown hand found Merlin's forehead, pushing aside the dark fringe to place her palm flat to the skin beneath. "Merlin!" Her eyes widened. "You've a fever, you're burning up!"

No, no, that didn't make any sense, that didn't make any sense at all, how could he have gotten that sick so quickly—? Unless—a block of ice seemed to form and freeze in Arthur's stomach, frigid and heavy—unless he'd been like this all day—

"N-no," Merlin sat up on his knees, and knocked her hand aside with one of his own. "No, I'm not, Gwen, you're feeling things, I'm fine—" He pushed himself to his feet and swayed alarmingly in place.

Arthur stood up, too, and seized Merlin's arm to stop him falling, and oh, gods, he'd said he was dizzy, hadn't he, he'd said he was dizzy, and he hadn't stopped coughing all day, and he hadn't eaten a damned thing, not even a bit of that cake he'd nicked from the kitchens, and gods knew you couldn't keep Merlin from cake, and why hadn't Arthur seen—? "Merlin, you idiot, why didn't you tell me you weren't well?!" Why didn't I realize, why didn't I see, he shouldn't have had to tell me because I should have paid attention, I should have realized, I should have seen—

Merlin snatched his arm from Arthur's grip with a glower. "I am well, Arthur! I'm fine!"

"Don't be stupid, Merlin!" Arthur snarled. "You look like you're about to collapse!"

"I'm—!" The words left his lips a weak sort of rasp—his voice had gone hoarse and scratchy, and sounded painful—he winced, and rubbed at his throat, fingers pale and trembling against the rough red cloth of his favorite scarf— "I'm—I'm fine—" he shuddered, and his stumbling, shaking legs crumpled under him, and he fell.

Arthur threw his arms out, on instinct, and caught his servant before he hit the ground, reflexively pulling the bony, shivering body closer to his own—Merlin's dark-haired head dropped down onto Arthur's chest, and he sank back to his knees to lessen the unexpected weight—the proximity should have embarrassed him, would have, if Merlin hadn't been shuddering so violently against him, he could swear the man was about to burst apart where he sat—Arthur couldn't stand it—he stripped the jacket from his own shoulders, and wrapped it round Merlin's gangly frame, over the worn brown layer he already had.

"I—I'm s-sorry, Arthur," Merlin said at last, in a small and shaky sort of voice Arthur had never heard from him before, and never wanted to hear again. "I was tr-trying to give you a good anniversary, a really good anniversary—" he pushed back, pushed away from Arthur, and weaved a little where he sat. By some miracle, he stayed upright. "—I know how h-hard today must be for you, and I thought I could t-take your mind off—" he swiped miserably at his nose. "—off all of it—" he slumped a little farther in on himself, and shuddered horribly, head turned down, face hidden. "—but I g-guess I kind of—" he didn't say it so much as he slurred it, every word running together, too garbled and jumbled to be called speech, "—guess I kind of r-ruined it, huh?"

Merlin barely got the last word off his lips before his skinny, shuddering body went limp, and he collapsed into Arthur's chest.

Arthur kind of lost it. A little. Maybe.

"You really are a complete idiot, aren't you, Merlin?!"

Right, so, maybe Arthur kind of lost it a lot, and maybe there was no kind of about it, and maybe Gwaine lost it, too, if the sudden string of obscenities aimed in his direction was anything to go on, but Arthur couldn't help it—Merlin had just—all limp and pale and sweaty and shaking—oh, gods, he looked awful—what on earth had he even been thinking—?

Arthur knew—of course he knew, there was no way for him to not know at this point—Arthur knew when it came to the two of them, Merlin had developed a bad—no, alarming was the right word, more than anything—all right, then, so Merlin had developed an alarming habit of putting himself second, and Arthur knew that, knew the man in front of him would drag himself through hell if he thought it'd make Arthur happy—he thought, again, for the thousandth time since it had happened, about the sight of the thin, still body, going stiff on the cold stone floor as the Dorocha's ice took hold—but this—sweating and sniffling and shaking fit to fly apart, his long limbs trembling under the strain, too weak and dizzy to even get off his knees, with a puddle of his own sick soaking slowly into the mud, and the sorrys spilling off him like rain—the idiot had pushed himself to complete collapse, and all he'd cared about was what this would mean for Arthur—ruined it, Merlin had said, I ruined it, like he actually believed that—like he actually believed he'd done something wrong, just by getting sick, like he actually—like he actually believed he'd let Arthur down—

If anyone, Arthur thought, and his grip tightened on Merlin's too-warm body, still slouched, boneless, against his chest, if anyone's let anyone down today, it's me, it's not Merlin, it's me—

"We—" he forced himself to raise his head. To look at the others. His voice, when he tried to speak, sounded very far away in his own ears. "We need to get him back to Camelot."

Merlin didn't wake.

In the time it took them to make it back to the city, his eyes stayed stubbornly closed, his body slack as a doll—Arthur had been almost grateful for it, at first—at least the awful shivers had stopped—now, as he stumbled up the steep stone steps to Gaius' chambers and half a pace behind Gwaine, and cradling the still, motionless form of his servant in his arms, he thought he'd rather have the trembling again, horrible as it was, over this unmoving, almost deathly calm.

Arthur lowered Merlin onto the first cot he saw, huffing a little as he released the weight—he'd scarcely gotten the man settled when Guinevere spoke up—

"Water," she said, clearly, "cold water, lots of it—"

Gwaine dashed off for the pump before she could say another word.

"Help me get his clothes off," she added, to Arthur, one hand already taking hold of the rough brown fabric of Merlin's jacket, "he's burning up with fever, we need to cool him down."

Arthur didn't even think to protest—it took a bit of maneuvering to work Merlin's skinny arms out of the overlarge sleeves, to unwind the red scarf from his neck, ease the sweat-drenched blue tunic over his head—

"—his boots," Guinevere nodded to Merlin's feet, "get his boots, his socks—"

Arthur dashed to the foot of the bed, fumbled with the tarnished silver buckles, gleaming against the brown cloth, but the cold metal didn't want to give—come on, come on, come on—gods, you'd think the man had done them up with magic—Arthur's searching fingers finally found the clasp, and he flicked it open, wrenched off the wretched boots—note to self, buy Merlin boots that are easier to undo—well, first, never let Merlin think he needs to push himself until he collapses ever again, then let's do something about the boots—as Arthur tugged off Merlin's socks, Gwaine came barreling back in the door, clutching two enormous, overflowing buckets by their large handles—

"Wonderful, Gwaine, thank you," Guinevere spared him a nod and a slightly harried smile. She plunged her own kerchief in one of the buckets, pausing only to wring it out before sponging down Merlin's brow and temple. "Arthur, grab a rag and get his chest," she didn't look away from Merlin's flushed face, "his stomach, his arms, his back, too, if you can, I don't think this will be enough."

Arthur discarded the boots on the floor and bolted to the opposite end of the room to seize one of Gaius' rags, moving so fast the cluttered chambers blurred around him—he made it back to Merlin's bedside in scarcely an instant, and soaked the rag in the bucket, as Guinevere had done—he didn't stop to draw out the excess, just put it to Merlin's chest, let the water run in rivulets out over the bare skin—

Merlin twitched, and flinched at the icy rain pouring over his naked torso, a soft moan escaping through his pale lips—"Don't be such a girl, Merlin," Arthur murmured, on instinct—Guinevere glanced up, her dark eyes sweeping the scene—

"Oh, thank goodness," a shred of the tension in her pretty features seeped out, "oh, thank goodness, he's reacting to the cold, that's—that's a good sign, that's a very good sign, keep it up, Arthur."

The faintest stirrings of relief pricked at Arthur, and he nodded, dabbing lightly at the exposed stomach and ribs as he worked his way down.

"Leon, Elyan," Guinevere called, gingerly wiping down Merlin's blazing red cheeks with her kerchief, "go into Gaius' cabinets, tell me if he has any astragalus root—big, erm, brown things, lots of limbs," she added, at the knights' perplexed looks. "Get some sage, too, and keep an eye out for echinacea, big pink flowers, petals have a sort of droop to them—"

Leon and Elyan shot over to the cupboards, ripping open the creaking doors and rummaging through with feverish intensity. In seconds, Elyan had pulled out a heavy, pale brown clump covered in what appeared to be copious amounts of coarse black hair, and Guinevere shot him a tired smile.

"Fantastic, Elyan, that's exactly what I'm looking for! Gwaine," she continued, "get a fire going, and put that other bucket over it, get the water hot—"

Gwaine snatched up the bucket and sloshed over to the dark hearth with no further prompting.

"—if we can get Merlin's fever down far enough to wake him, we can get him some astragalus tea," Guinevere explained, when Elyan raised his eyebrows. "It'll work wonders, Gaius uses it all the time."

Arthur hastily returned to his own work, redoubling his efforts on cooling Merlin down—he didn't know how long he stood there, swiping at the man's burning, fevered skin—it felt like hours—certainly long enough for Gwaine to get a good fire going in the grate, long enough for Elyan and Leon to start clearing up, for lack of anything else to do, Arthur supposed—but the flush receded at last from Merlin's thin face, and Guinevere gently cleared away the last line of sweat, still clinging doggedly to his temple, a smile curving her lovely lips, before she pressed her palm to his brow.

"His fever's come down," she revealed. "I think we've done all we can for the moment."

Arthur smiled—the first time since Merlin collapsed in his arms, and it was still scarcely more than a quirk at the corner of his mouth. At the memory of it—the weight of Merlin against his chest, the horrible rasping sound of his breath as it left his lungs, the rapid, uneven flutter of his lashes as his eyes fell closed, the scorching heat of his skin as the temperature took hold, his slurred and shaking voice as he whispered his fervent apologies—Arthur couldn't keep back a wince, and the smile slipped from his face like it had never been. He scrubbed a tired hand down his slightly sunburned face at the thought of it. "How long has he been like this? Do you know?"

Guinevere frowned, her small mouth twisting up as she thought. On any other day, Arthur wouldn't have been able to keep from leaning in and kissing her at the sight—he loved her "concentration" face—but Merlin's slow, labored breathing on the bed between them wouldn't let him forget the matter at hand.

"Well," she said at last, and slowly, "I don't know, but if I had to guess, I'd say he made himself far worse than he would be, if he hadn't been working quite so hard lately."

Working hard? Horrible, burning guilt seized Arthur, blazing in his veins, bubbling up like acid in his stomach, tongues of unchecked flame scorching through his chest, searing up his throat like bile. "I—I worked him too hard?" He looked to Guinevere, in the desperate hope that she might say otherwise. "Did I—did I make him—did I work him until he was—?" Bad enough that he hadn't noticed the state of his own servant until the idiot had passed out in front of him, but worse still to think he'd put Merlin in that state to start with.

"Oh, no! No, Arthur, no," Guinevere's eyes went round—she reached across the bed, and placed her warm hand over his. "That is absolutely not what I meant at all, I promise. I don't think," she worried her lip, "well, I don't think Merlin's exactly been doing the best job looking after himself since Gaius went away. He took on Gaius' work in addition to his own for you—"

Arthur nodded. He knew that.

"—and then he threw himself into all these preparations for your anniversary, and of course he couldn't tell you about that bit—" she tightened her grasp on Arthur's hand as she spoke.

In spite of her intentions, Arthur only felt the weight on his chest grow heavier with every word—he should have seen—how had he not—? How had he not seen—? Merlin had been running himself into the ground like this ever since Gaius had gone away—and Arthur had noticed it, hadn't he—had thought—oh, gods, he'd thought how impressive it was, that Merlin managed to keep up with Gaius' job as well as his own—impressive, yes, not concerning, not worrying, not far too large and heavy a workload for one man to carry—how had he not seen—?

"—but—but this wasn't your fault," Guinevere broke in, as though she could read his mind, and shook her dark-haired head, brown curls bouncing with the movement. "Not in the slightest. Merlin's been pushing himself far too hard for far too long now. I just—" she glanced at the motionless form of Merlin between them, and there was the slightest tremble at the corner of her mouth. "I just wish I'd realized it had gotten this bad."

"No, it wasn't your fault, Guinevere," Arthur said at once—he knew the shame in her voice too well, knew her too well, and the gravity of his own blame fell back a bit in the face of the burden she had no need, no right, to bear. He squeezed her hand, and pulled his mouth up in a smile when she met his eyes. "You had no way of knowing. Merlin wasn't exactly announcing it in the city square, was he?"

Guinevere's eyes still betrayed her guilt, but her lips twitched marginally. "Perhaps he hung a banner."

Arthur huffed out a short, quiet laugh. "Perhaps."

"Erm—?" Elyan wheeled around, away from the hairy brown root still lying on the table, to look at his sister, his dark eyes wide. "Do you know how Gaius makes the tea? Leon and I have just been—we've sort of—erm—" he gestured, helplessly, to the root.

Guinevere laughed then, too, one hand jumping to her mouth to cover the sound. "Oh—oh, yes, I'm sorry," she gave Arthur's hand one last squeeze before leaving the bedside to join Elyan at the table. "Here, I'll show you…"

Merlin barely opened his eyes when Guinevere roused him to give him the tea—the fever had waned significantly, but Arthur still didn't think he was entirely lucid—he all but poured the tea down Merlin's throat himself, to the last drop, refused to let up until the cup had run completely dry.

Leaving was the absolute last thing he wanted to do just then—he owed this much to Merlin, at least, owed it to the man to stay with him until he'd finally woken—but there were, Guinevere and Leon reminded him, court matters to be taken care of, and nobles to be appeased, and Gwaine outright refused to leave Merlin's side for anything—he was in trustworthy, if not altogether capable, hands and Arthur must content himself with that—hours passed before he could return—the matins rang out before he made his way back to the physician's chambers, and he was briefly, intensely grateful to Guinevere, that she didn't try to stop him, didn't try to lead him to bed instead—perhaps she realized he wouldn't, couldn't, sleep until he'd made this right.

Gwaine put up a bit of a fight at first, but the shadows under his bloodshot eyes spoke for him, and he eventually took himself up to Merlin's room with, if not good grace, at least a less-than-courteous resignation.

Arthur sat in the chair his knight vacated, staring down into Merlin's still, sleeping face. Now that there was nothing left to do—no fever to fight or tea to brew, no speeches to give or crown to wear, no meetings to hold—now that he was on his own, he couldn't hide from the truth anymore—it stared back at him, silent and accusing and so terribly stark in the flickering light of the hearth fire, casting fleeting shadows over Merlin's sharp features.

Didn't the idiot know, didn't he realize, didn't he see that nothing, certainly not some stupid day on the calendar, a day that would be there next year, and the year after that, and the year after that, didn't Merlin see that nothing in the world would ever matter so much to Arthur that he would want his servant to drive himself to his limits? Didn't Merlin see, didn't Merlin realize—didn't he—didn't he realize—?

Maybe—and the guilt flooded back in like the ocean in a storm, rising in his chest like the tide, frothing furiously in his lungs—maybe he didn't. Maybe Merlin didn't realize, maybe he didn't know, because when had Arthur ever given him cause to think otherwise—when had Arthur ever—had he ever—had he ever—?

"A-Arthur?"

"Merlin!" Arthur startled, jerked, leapt from his seat—he lifted a hand, on instinct, to Merlin's bony back to steady him while he struggled to rise from the thin mattress. "How—?" He hesitated. "How are you feeling?"

Merlin's head bobbed up at once to look at him. A tiny frown twisted his mouth as he finally pushed himself upright. "I've had better," he said, hoarsely, after a second, and a small, tired smile found its way onto his face. "What happened?"

Arthur almost laughed. It would be easier, he reflected, to tell him what hadn't. "Guinevere brought your fever down. Some sort of tea, she says Gaius uses it often, she—" he broke off abruptly as he remembered, "—she said to give you some, if you woke, hang on—" he hurried to the table, where Gwaine had apparently left the kettle, and hastily poured a steaming cup—thin coils of vapor rose off the smooth amber surface as he offered it to Merlin. "Here."

Merlin eyed it warily. "It's astragalus root, isn't it." It wasn't a question.

"I take it you don't enjoy it."

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, I'm hardly going to face Guinevere's wrath just to spare your delicate sensibilities," Arthur motioned to the cup. "Drink."

Merlin scowled, but obligingly sipped.

Near-total silence reigned for the next several minutes, nothing but the crackle of the fire, and the reluctant Merlin unhappily drinking his tea—Arthur shifted slightly in his seat—tried not to look at him—

"I'm sorry," Merlin said at last—only, he didn't say the words so much as he whispered them into his tea—it was as if he half-hoped Arthur wouldn't hear them at all.

I'm sorry, Arthur—I was trying to give you a good anniversary, a really good anniversary—I guess I kind of ruined it—Arthur's stomach jolted unpleasantly. He didn't have to ask what Merlin meant—he already knew.

But it appeared Merlin didn't need him to ask. "Today—" His free hand fisted around the blankets slung over his legs. He ran his thumb over the fraying edge. "Today isn't really a day you want to remember all that much, is it? And—and I understand—I mean, I don't, no, I don't understand, that's—that's the wrong—I only meant—"

The point, Merlin, Arthur thought—had it been any other day, he would have said it, too—but this time—this time—he shut his mouth.

"—well, today just—" Merlin swallowed. "—just isn't a good day for you."

Arthur didn't bother to answer. Merlin would know it was the truth even if he denied it until his dying breath.

"But it's—it's not—it's not right," Merlin continued, haltingly—it occurred to Arthur, for the first time, that maybe this wasn't any easier on Merlin than it was on him. "It's not right because it's your anniversary, and you deserve to have at least one good memory of your anniversary—everyone does, but especially you—forget I said that," he added, sharply, when Arthur looked at him, "that bit will just go to your head—look, I—I just meant, everyone deserves to have a good memory of their anniversary, and I thought if you had a good one," he uncurled his fingers from around the blankets, and picked at the loose threads, "I th-thought if you had a good one, it might help with the badones."

Arthur swallowed hard—damn Merlin, he thought, blinking furiously, damn the stupid idiot, being so stupid and nice and loyal and trying so hard—trying so hard for me—

"But I—" Merlin pulled him from his thoughts, still gazing into his tea, "—I guess I ruined—" His cheeks colored. It was almost as if he caught himself in the act of saying something he shouldn't. "—I guess it didn't work."

—the shake in his shoulders and the flush in his cheeks and the shadows under his eyes and guess I kind of ruined it huh—

"Merlin," he said, and it was like he couldn't stop himself, "Merlin, look at me, you didn't ruin anything."

Merlin froze. His head snapped up.

"You did give me a good memory of my anniversary today—a really good one, if I'm being honest, the best one I've ever—don't look so pleased with yourself, you're still an idiot," he tacked on hastily, when Merlin began to grin. "Did you stop, even once, to think, hmm, maybe I should tell someone I'm so ill I'm going to swoon like a maiden—"

Merlin went pink to the tips of his overlarge ears. "I did not—!"

"—no, I bet you didn't, because you're an idiot," Arthur concluded, and sat down, heavily, in the chair by the bed again.

"I wasn't that ill. I wasn't!" Merlin added when Arthur raised his eyebrows incredulously. "Besides, it was your anniversary! What was I supposed to? Skip it? I don't think so! I'd been planning it for weeks!" He appeared so indignant at the very thought, Arthur almost laughed, and let him off the hook.

"Funny thing about anniversaries, Merlin," he schooled his features into the sternest scowl he could manage, "they're an annual thing. Suppose I should have known you haven't figured that out yet, I mean, I shouldn't expect that much from you—"

Merlin huffed, and opened his mouth to retort, so Arthur hastened on.

"—but my point is, the anniversary would have been there next year, Merlin. And the year after that. You shouldn't have ignored what you needed for what you thought I did."

Merlin bit his lip. "I just—" he shifted uncomfortably on the cot. "—I wanted to make sure you were all right—"

"Thank you for that," Arthur said sincerely. "Really. Thank you, Merlin. But you should have made sure you were all right first. My anniversary may not be my favorite day, but it is just a day, and you matter far more to me than any—" Oh, no, oh, gods, the stupid idiot was grinning like a loon, abort abort abort—

"You'reanidiotandyoushouldn'thavegonemuckingabouttheforestwhenyouweresickallrightnowgobacktosleepMerlinthankyou!"

Merlin sniggered, and took a sip of tea to hide it.

Arthur didn't stop to think—he grabbed the bottom of the teacup in Merlin's hands, and tipped it up until the liquid splashed over the man's face, and he sputtered, dripping the warm liquid all over the cot.

"Arthur!"

Arthur swallowed back the laugh bubbling in his throat, and reluctantly handed Merlin the nearest dry rag—Guinevere would have his head served for dinner tomorrow night if he didn't—Merlin scrubbed the residue off his face with a grimace, and swayed slightly, a tearing tree in a fierce gale—

"Merlin?" Arthur bit down, hard, on his bottom lip to hide the grin.

"Mm?" Merlin flung the tea-drenched rag into the nearest basket, and settled slowly back on the cot.

Arthur wondered, for a minute, if he might be going too far. Nope. "So I guess you did need the fainting couch after all."

"Oh, you ass—!"

[eddycurrents]

Wolverine: Infinity Watch #1

Writer: Gerry Duggan | Artist: Andy MacDonald | Colourist: Jordie Bellaire | Letters: Cory Petit

Published by Marvel | 20.02.2019 | $3.99

Wolverine: Infinity Watch #1 attempts to make sense of what Wolverine has been up to since Marvel Legacy #1 amidst continuing on with the narrative spinning out of Infinity Wars. As such, we get Logan hopping about with Loki, and the return of Warbringer as he searches for the stone still on Earth.

Gerry Duggan has the unenviable task of letting us know what actually happened surrounding Wolverine’s resurrection as it relates to him having one of the stones in Marvel Legacy and, well, it turns out it wasn’t so. Whether or not you enjoy and accept the explanation will depend on how much you enjoy retcons and the explanation for what happened, but to be fair to Duggan, it is somewhat funny. At least from a detached perspective.

This works better as a continuation of Infinity Wars, building upon Loki’s story Duggan was telling there, and the bits and pieces of the current state of the Infinity Stones as sentient beings. And his Loki is one of the more entertaining characterizations out there. 

The artwork from Andy MacDonald and Jordie Bellaire is incredible. I’d probably go so far to say that it’s even better than MacDonald’s work on Multiple Man and that one had an immense amount of detail on a multiplicity of Madroxes. There’s humour in many of the sequences, wonderful facial expressions throughout, and very nice layouts.

Personally, I think that Marvel deeply botched Wolverine’s return. From Marvel Legacy through Hunt for Wolverine and Return of Wolverine, it has felt as though there’s been no through line and that the direction was rudderless. That appearances have been oversaturated, not well thought out, in some cases contradictory, and that everything between Marvel Legacy and basically this have been a heartless corporate push to part readers with their money. Which is par for the course, since this is Wolverine we’re talking about, but has left me with a disappointed feeling that we’ve more or less been jerked around for more than a year with some hand-wavy explanations for what happened and a whole load of stories that were essentially bunk, retconning things out of existence. Which is a shame because most of the creators working on them deserve better, and in isolation many of the stories were rather good, it’s just that the entire Return of Wolverine initiative has been a narrative mess. 

And I still feel sour about it.

That being said, I can’t really fault Gerry Duggan, Andy MacDonald, Jordie Bellaire, or Cory Petit with that. They’re just trying to make sense of the mess and tell an entertaining story to the best of their abilities. On that remit, they succeed in spades. If you want the continuation of Infinity Wars, this does that well. If you just want a Wolverine story with great art, this does that well too. 

Quick Bits:

Age of X-Man: The Amazing Nightcrawler #1 introduces us to Kurt’s world of filmmaking in the Age of X-Man, along with his co-star Meggan, from Seanan McGuire, Juan Frigeri, Dono Sánchez-Almara, and Travis Lanham. It deals with many of the same themes of familial attachment and forbidden to love as the other two series so far, so I kind of get the impression that we’re going to see a lot of that repeated through these mini-series, but it’s entertaining. The art from Frigeri and Sánchez-Almara is very nice, reminding me a bit of Ken Lashley’s work with Kurt in Excalibur and X-calibre.

Hulkverines #1 begins the three-part end to Weapon H’s saga from Greg Pak, Ario Anindito, Morry Hollowell, Andrew Crossley, and Joe Caramagna. It’s not bad, bringing in the Leader to solve the problem of an Immortal Hulk. The set up for the battle between Hulk and Hulkverine is a little ridiculous, with Banner acting like one of the dumbest smart guys in how he approached Clay, but the action from Anindito, Hollowell, and Crossley is well done. Also, the horror element of the sunset with Hulk’s new rules is chilling. I generally enjoyed the Weapon H series and its old school Marvel throwback style and the first part of this seems to continue that verve.

Uncanny X-Men #12 is more nightmare fuel for the horrible world that the mutants who remained now find themselves in post “Disassembled” as Matthew Rosenberg, Salvador Larroca, Rachelle Rosenberg, and Joe Caramagna pick up Scott and Logan’s buddy comedy as they unravel some of the threads from the recent New Mutants and Astonishing X-Men. The continuation of these threads is very satisfying, although this series remains incredibly bleak and the death toll is pretty high. They seem to be killing at least one beloved mutant every issue so far. Like part one of “This is Forever”, you wonder how heroes like the Avengers remain complacent in allowing this sort of thing to continue.

The Unexamined: Dazzler #1 Facsimile Edition, Return of Wolverine #5

Collections: Cable & X-Force: Onslaught, Secret Agent Deadpool, Uncanny X-Men by Kieron Gillen Complete Collection - Volume 1

d. emerson eddy is the living embodiment of the Kidney Stone. ...I’m sorry? What do you mean that’s not one of the Infinity Stones? Are you sure?

[silverfae16]

Comparison? (Beyblade Burst ChouZ ep24 ep post comparison post)

Seeing that my usual weekly content has been dragged to a halt by uni coursework (nearly there!), I thought I’d tide you over with something I worked on for that...by which I mean I borrowed my ep post for ChouZ ep24 and edited it for my portfolio. Original post is here. (As a comparison point). Lemme know which version works better, I’m curious ^^ 

Spoilers ahoy, so under the cut we go~

This was one wild ride of an ep…

The first noticeable thing about this ep is the “baby’s first wordplay” in the title: ‘Achilles vs Xcalibur’, or in the original Japanese, “勇者（アキレス）VS勇者（エクスカリバー）！！”

For reference, that kanji “勇者 vs 勇者” would normally read “Yuusha VS Yuusha”; or “Hero VS Hero”. But both Achilles and Xcalibur are associated with heroes; Excalibur being the sword used by the British king of legend, Arthur, (fitting, then, that the main wielder of Xcalibur this season is a prince) and Achilles being the Greek near-invincible hero, so the writers decided to put the katakana for Achilles and Xcalibur as the furigana, or how the kanji is supposed to be read. It works as a double bonus; it tells who the ep centres on battle-wise (Aiga and Xhan respectively), but also uses the origins of the bey names for wordplay. Nice job there ^^

So, this ep was neatly split into two parts; the mini-adventure Aiga, Xhan and Laban had before the main tournament section (which was also a chance to develop Laban’s relationships a bit before the latter half of this ep) and then the battles in the second half. This is the episode where I seriously get convinced these boys have a stronger urge for adventure than common sense. I wonder which one came up with the race idea…and then roped the other two into it. Though to be quite honest, Xhan will just agree to anything that sounds fun and adventure-y (or something that will fire up his competitive spirit, either or).

I had honestly wondered how these three would interact with one another, as while Aiga and Laban get on, and Xhan and Aiga are rivals… we haven’t really seen Laban and Xhan interact. So, this was a nice bonding part. (It also made sense because these are 11- to 12-year-old children who will do this sort of stuff)

If it wasn’t for the fact that their bonding moment was done because they went on a “trip” and didn’t tell anyone except for Naru (who later was the one to break the news that three children, including a prince, have gone missing), this would have been a nice easy-going episode. But you just know that anything could happen to these idiots because unlike the ghost ship episode, none of this was planned, so there is this underlying sense of danger.

And of course, things very quickly go to hell when disaster strikes, and the boys must deal with lightning, nearly get killed by a flaming tree and then falling rocks…and then get trapped in a cave. Be glad you didn’t have your probably-collapsible cane out (how else does this child just bring the thing out whenever), Xhan, otherwise you may have become a lightning conductor.

Speaking of that damn cane, I am so not surprised the thing lights up. It just fits Xhan’s adventurous nature (and came in handy for this ep, given they got trapped in a dark place).

I think what I loved was how each child helped each other out while stranded; Xhan has his martial arts+ that cane; Aiga has his resonance with Achilles (which saved Xhan from getting crushed), and Laban has his wilderness survival skills such as being able to hunt and communicate with the animals around. Stuff like dealing with a problem together does bring people together at least a little bit, so for these three, it was easier to form a bond due to their similar personalities. While at first there was some fighting between the rivals, after they were trapped within the volcano in the centre of the island, they started working together.

So, if the first half was “fun with a little of wtf”, the second half of this ep was “WTF” thanks to Phi! Not least because of this lovely image (poor Laban seeing that…), where Phi was entirely in shadow with what appeared to be Phoenix behind him…and an ominous blue eye where Phoenix’s head would be.

As anticipated, Phi won…and broke Leopard as well. Ow. I’d imagine this was to show Laban that you don’t peek into Phi’s soul and get away with it, but I felt sorry for Laban. He’s adorable, but he’s now been effectively sidelined. I just hope this doesn’t mean more bey murders are on the way…

I have a feeling Aiga witnessing Phi destroy Leopard is…going to have interesting consequences, considering Achilles suddenly glowed black. This is going to be fun.

Other than that, the Fubuki vs Kyle match was nothing special and ended in Kyle being eliminated…but I have a feeling we’re not done with him either. We still don’t know who he was working for, and I’m not sure what his interest in Phi is all about, but I’m not sure that’ll end well.

The focus fight, as indicated in the title, was Xhan vs Aiga, and oh boy this was fun to watch. I love that Xhan’s fire has finally been properly lit and that he got what he was looking for. Xhan’s primary character arc (find his Rival) has been completed as of this episode, though I have a feeling his next Quest will be uncovering the power of resonance. Since he apparently had no idea what that was (mind you, neither did Aiga until Fubuki told him back in episode 21), it seems his journey continues. Hopefully he’ll work with Xhaka on this one, given that he looks up to his mentor figure so much.

That being said, I seriously felt for him, because that loss must have been so frustrating. Like, he’s still got a star left, but I’d imagine his problem was that finally he’s got what he wanted…and he still lost? Not sure if he has this buried sense of “I have to do my best for my country”, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he did ><

So, this was a pretty fun ep ^^ It definitely made it clear that Phi was a threat, seeing as he caused the first bey murder of the season (not counting destructions in flashbacks), made us feel for Laban (even if the first half of the episode felt like his swansong before he was shafted), and overall set some other character arcs in motion.