#guinevere rushing

[daisycoloredsims]

late night cup of tea for my night owl

[yourqueenb]

Perfection 🥹❤️

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace Thank you so much for all your love ❤️. As someone who just entered the fandom and whose native language is not english it means a lot 🤧. Prepare yourselfs though, this is going to get dark.

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 (You're here) , PART 10

A little more of "Valiant"

Despite Gaius words and Arthur's protests, Merlin starts his duties as Arthur's manservant just a week after been stabbed in the back. Not that he wants to be careless with himself, but the tournament is coming, which means Valiant will arrive soon. And his magic is finally working properly so he needs to be there for Arthur when it happens. Arthur, of course, reduce his duties significtanly so Merlin doesn't do a lot of effort while still recovering from his wound, but he lets him attend him in the tournament, which is all Merlin needs right now.

Merlin: (putting Arthur his armor on perfectly)

Arthur: You're quite good at this (thinking, confused) How weird, he was disastrous at the beginning.

Merlin: Gwen gave me dressing armor classes when I was still in bed and taugh me about your silly tournament etiquette (thinking) Is not a lie, it was very nice of her, but I need to be more careful, I'm not suppossed to be this competent yet.

Arthur: (looks at Merlin intendly and points the collar of his armor) This needs adjustment.

Merlin: Oh, sorry. (adjusts the collar, so his hands are between Arthur's shoulder and neck and his face is close to Arthur's)

Arthur: Now is too tight, lose it a bit.

Merlin: (nervous due to the closeness and the intensity of Arthur's eyes) Like... like this?

Arthur: (smiles mischievously) Just like that (points the cape with his head) The cape.

Merlin: The cape! Right, the cape. (goes to get the cape and begins to put it on quickly)

Arthur: There's no rush, Merlin. Take your time.

Merlin: (gets lost in Arthur's eyes as he finishes to put the cape on, thinking) What... what is happening? 😳😳 (snaps out of it) Your sword! I almost forgot your sword!(goes to get the sword)

Arthur: (sighs, thinking) Damn Guinevere and her extra classes.

Time skip. As expected, Valiant's snakes are exposed and Arthur kills them and gets Valiant arrested. Since they didn't try to expose him before, Valiant didn't have the need to send his snakes to kill Sir Ewan. So he is alive to be at the trial as a witness too. Before he can be burned at the stake though he's found death in his cell. Apparently he killed himself with a hidden knife.

Uther: Such a coward. "Valiant" was to big of a name for someone like him.

Arthur: Totally.

Uther: But I'm curious. How did you know the shield was echanted?

Arthur: I didn't know.

Uther: Really? Because you didn't seem surprise when the snakes came out of the shield. In fact, it seemed you were prepared for it.

Arthur: I didn't know for sure, but I had my suspicions. He was a knight, I couldn't well accuse him without being sure, much less without proof. Don't you think, father?

Uther: (thinks for a moment) You're right. Well done Arthur. After the display you did at the feast for that boy and then asking me to make him your servant I got a little worried. But I must say that, despite that slip in your behaviour, you've been acting more mature and with more wisdom. Almost like-

Arthur: A king?

Uther: (frowns) I think is too soon to say that. Let's say like a proper heir to the throne. You're dismissed.

Arthur: (starts leaving, but turns around) Father... I need to tell you something... about my nightmares.

Uther: Is this something like Morgana's? You need Gaius to prescribe you her concoctions?

Arthur: No, I don't think is the same. I'm not sure they're actually nightmares, really. I... I saw my mother.

Uther: What?!

Arthur: I don't think is really her, I never saw her. But she's beautiful there, blond hair, blue eyes like mine, and she had the most tender smile. (smiles sadly) She always tells me that she loves me and she would've given her life for me all over again (sombers his expression) But then she tells me the most horrendous things. Like you used magic to get her pregnant and that you were reponsable for her death.

Uther: ...

Arthur: But that's not true, right? It can't be true. You would never do something like that and then lie about it, wouldn't you?

Uther: (forcing a smile) Of course not, I loved your mother with my life. There isn't a day that passes that I don't wish that she was still alive. I could never have done anything to hurt her, much less with something as corrupted as magic.

Arthur: (thinking) Not knownly, not on purpose, now I understand that.(smiles and says) I can see it. You would do anything to get her back.

Uther: Exactly. Don't pay attention to those nightmares. If it keeps going I'll tell Gaius to prescribe you something.

Arthur: Thank you, father. I'm sorry for bothering you with this. It's just... Sometimes I wish I had met her. Just once.

Uther: (smiles, sadly) Me too, son. Me too.

Time skip. Arthur goes to see the dragon under the castle.

Kilgharrah: The Once and Future King. What a surprise.

Arthur: Don't give me that shit. It won't work on me.

Kilgharrah: (analysing Arthur) What is this? Your body is young but your mind is old. I don't know what you did, but magic must be involved.

Arthur: I just came to tell you two things. One, leave Merlin alone. I know you want to manipulate him into setting you free so you can get your revenge on my father.

Kilgharrah: He hasn't been answering my calls. But still, why would I listen to a Pendragon?

Arthur: Because I know were the last dragon egg is.

Kilgaharrah: (surprised) There's a dragon egg?

Arthur: For now it's safe. But I won't tell you where it is if you desobey me.

Kilgharrah: What use is this information for me if I'm still trap here?

Arthur: That's the second thing. I need three dragon scales. If you give them to me, I promise to set you free.

Kilgharrah: Why should I believe your word? You just told me you don't want Merlin to set me free.

Arthur: No, I told you I didn't want you to mess with his head just to get what you want. I know he'll come eventually. Just help him with whatever he needs.

Kilgharrah: Lets say I believe you. You expect me to not take my revenge once I'm free?

Arthur: In fact, I'm counting on it.

Kilgahrrah: ... I don't think I follow.

Arthur: You're not wrong. Magic was involved for me to be here. Twice, if you count the way I was born. Three dragon scales, the blood of 300 hundred man and the corpse of a king were needed for me to arrive, but I need to do the same sacrifice to stay.

Kilgharrah: (in realization) The forbidden ritual of the ancient Kings. Interesting.

Arthur: Do we have a deal?

Kilgharrah: It depends. Which king are you planning to sacrifice?

Arthur: I think you already know.

Kilgharrah: (smiles evilly) Very well, anything else you want to ask me?

Arthur: (with a lump in his throat) When I... when you're finally free... Avoid women and children as much as you can, please. And don't just kill left and right. I just need... (cuts himself)

Kilgharrah: 300 hundred deaths. I get it.

Arthur: (pauses) No... 299.

...

I WARNED YOU! It was kind of planned from the beginning. But I want to read you. Do you think it makes sense for Arthur to turn out like this? 👀

[wingedhallows]

right company; james potter

pairing: james potter (marauders) x fem!oc | 1k words plot: You knew which company to keep, no matter if your own house might disagree. authors note: hi hi, i cooked up a small little something for you :) as a thank for your lovely support all the time.

navigation

The library was quiet, peaceful as you held James’ hand, his thumb stroking the back of your hand with a small smile on his face.

“What’s for dinner?” Sirius asked, his head resting ontop of Remus’ shoulder. Lily barked a laugh. “We ate an hour ago.” He frowned and threw a plastic wrapper at the girl. You laughed and took a sip from James’ canned soda. 

“We could go to hogsmeade and have some beef or chicken, how does that sound?” Sirius clapped his hands with a smile on his face. “Y/N, my savior. I’d love that.” He smiled and threw his arm over Remus’ shoulder.

“We could also have some-”Oh all gathered her, a freak show meeting?” Guinever Sutton leaned her hand on the corner of the table. Vivienne Blaine smiled over her friends shoulder but quickly sat herself down on the empty chair next to you.

“Is this really the company you should seek, Y/N?” Vivienne twisted some of your hair between her fingers and gave you an awfully sweet and fake smile.

You were a Slytherin, alright. You liked being a Slythering but James and his friends held a big spot in your heart, the house rivalry was stupid and had no place at this table.

You stared at her through your lashes, jaw clenched as you swatted Vivienne’s hand away.

“Fuck off.”

You said, voice low. You were always the more reasonable one between James and you.

He was a hothead, someone who would get angry on your accord but he let you handle this, you were always better at handling Slytherins than he was.

People didn’t fuck with you though, no one has dared to bully you. Afraid of James but mostly of you. You were peaceful, not provoking fights but neither did you back down.

“Oh, not very nice.” Guinever spoke, lips in a dramatic frown.

“I’m telling you once, leave us the fuck alone.” You spoke, slapping your textbook shut as you now faced Vivienne. She gulped but tried to keep her poker face up.

James’ hand squeezed yours, a sign. He was angry, maybe even angrier than you. You released your hand from his grip and faced Vivienne.

“You should bow your head if you want to keep it, Vivienne.” You gave her a kind smile to which she only scoffed.

Sirius and Remus watched you, Lily and Peter stared in shock. Marlene rested her head on her hand with a small smirk.

It was no secret that you were able to be mean, hold your own in an argument but it was rare for anyone to witness you angry. You’d dismiss the argument if you could, too lazy to put up with these antics.

 “You don’t scare me, little Y/N.” Vivienne spoke, her head cocked to side like she was talking to a child. The searing rage in your chest bubbled up further and further.

“Though I have a question, how come you stay friends with a blood traitor, a scratched up bookworm looser, a cowering rat, a halfblood and a mudblood?”

Your eyebrows rushed up as you stared at her, James shifted in his seat to stand but you put your palm on his leg, you’d handle it.

“Excuse me?” You snapped, dark, low and sinister. Remus ducked his head, Sirius had his hand on his shoulder. 

“And worse of all, a boyfriend who pined after a mudblood, of all people. I can’t even imagine how tarnished your family's reputation would be if you decided on further progress.” Vivienne gave her a small smile. You couldn’t think straight, the moment James’ name fell in her truly awful insult your vision went red, blood red.

You grabbed her by the throat and pushed her off her chest to the stone floor, slamming her head down as hard as possible. Her hands clasped your hand with wide eyes as you slapped her once, twice, a third time.

Guinevere snapped out of her daze after a few seconds and pushed you off of her friend. You lifted your leg and kicked her back, she held her stomach with a cough as you clasped your fingers in a fist and with as much as strength as you could muster, you brought your fist down on her face.

She stumbled back as blood rushed down her robes. You grabbed Vivienne by her head and tore her head back, her eyes squinted as she watched you with a horrified expression on her face.

“You should’ve bowed that head of yours.”

Before you stood you looked at the squirming friend of hers.

“The only thing which would tarnish my family’s reputation would be to have company like you two losers.” 

You stood, blood coating your hands as you turned to your friends, who watched you with shocked faces. You grabbed your coat and tucked it over your hand.

“I feel like having firewhiskey instead.” You said before your friends stood. James planted a kiss on your cheek before Sirius high fived you.

“I knew you could fight but damn, almost had a double homicide on your hands.” He laughed before Lily rubbed your back with a small smile.

“Drinks are on me tonight.” You raised your hand and your friends cheered.

“Keep her close, James, I think I just fell in love.” Marlene smiled as she hastily pressed a kiss on your cheek. You only laughed as James pointed his finger at her with a smile on his face, playfully warning the girl.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

hi can i request another part for king Arthur reader,whare a few days after Ragnarok, leonidas & Apollo are looking for y/n because they have a date in a few minutes,but only to find y/n, y/n's Valkyrie & Guinevere, turns out Guinevere is trying to get back with y/n

because when she watched y/n fight she realized y/n was "better" for her and shouldt have cheated on him & also said y/n should just break up with Apollo & leo to get with her again, (in short being a despite bitch, worst part she's still with lancelot)

but y/n's Valkyrie IS NOT HAVING IT,y/n's Valkyrie is having a literally cat fight with Guinevere(and is winning 💅y/n's Valkyrie would be leonidas, Apollo & y/n's 1# supporter...cus she see's y/n as father figure's😭)and y/n is just there trying to calm her down to have a mature conversation with Guinevere as why he doesn't want to get back together (but Guinevere doesn't listen)

and so how would leonidas & Apollo react to the scene, would they intervene with someone trying to mess up there relationship or would they let y/n take care of it?

-You were late, which is something you never were, you were always the one to show up early, to be the one to greet your lovers, Leonidas and Apollo- but you weren’t at the meetup spot and instantly Leonidas knew something was wrong.

-The two were quick to rush to your home, Apollo was trying to stay calm, “Maybe Y/N just overslept?” his optimism was helpful, but Leonidas knew he was just as worried- this wasn’t like you.

-They weren’t prepared to find you holding back Thyra from another woman who was also beautiful, the two of them screeching at each other.

-You looked exasperated, but doing well in keeping calm, “Thyra- sweetie- angel- violence won’t solve anything.” You were holding her under her arms as she was flailing, doing her best to get free.

-This other woman was Guinevere, your ex-wife, and the woman who betrayed you and led you to your death. And from what your lovers were easily able to gather, Guinevere had approached you, wanting to get back together with you.

-She was glaring at Thyra, “You need to stay out of this- this doesn’t concern you! Y/N- leave this child and leave those male lovers of yours and come back to me- you know I’m so much better than they are!!”

-Apollo and Leonidas were both instantly pissed, seeing that she was trying to get back with you after you won your match, after you proved yourself as a powerful fighter, and a worthy man.

-Thyra went still in your arms, like she was stunned before she turned bright red, furious, “Doesn’t concern me? BITCH! You broke Y/N’s heart and helped get him killed! How is that better for him?!”

-You sighed softly in defeat before you noticed your lovers who were watching, amused by Thyra’s rage, giving them a weak, apologetic smile before Guinevere shouted, “What would you know- you’re just a child?!”

-It was true that Thyra was young looking, looking like a teenager, but you doted on her like a daughter, and she looked up to you like a father figure, but she was like her sisters, far older than you were, being a Valkyrie.

-You directed your attention to Guinevere, trying to stop the situation from getting any more heated, “Guinevere- you have no place in my heart nor my life any longer. I am happy with Apollo and Leonidas. Please leave.” You were being cordial to her, willing to treat her with respect.

-She was stunned, hearing this, hearing that you were telling her to leave, and you didn’t love her, your beloved Guinevere- any longer! Her eyes narrowed and she lunged, her claws bared, “You bastard- who do you think you are?!”

-You turned, taking the hit across your face, but it didn’t really hurt, as you protected Thyra who gasped, and instantly a boxing bell was heard (from somewhere) as your grip loosened just enough for her to get free and she instantly attacked, getting into a cat fight with your ex-wife.

-Apollo instantly had your face in his hands, looking at your face, checking out the mark as you smiled softly, lifting a hand to cover one of his own, “Sorry about that.” Apollo wouldn’t hear any of it, “You have nothing to apologize for my love.”

-When you noticed Leonidas wasn’t there, you both turned, seeing him cheering on Thyra, who was straddling Guinevere, who was screeching loudly, demanding for Thyra to get off her.

-You sighed, exasperated before you spoke, “You get two minutes- then we’re leaving.” Thyra beamed up at you, looking elated, “Really?” as you nodded.

-Once Thyra was done, you hauled her off, holding her under your arm as she whined, “Oh- I wasn’t done yet~~!” you cracked her a small grin, “Yes you are- lets go eat.”

-Guinevere had gotten her ass beat, and as she was panting in pain and with adrenaline, she screamed after you, “You’ll come back! You always do!!”

-Leonidas, Apollo, and Thyra all flipped her off over their shoulders, something you did scold them for, as you headed to the restaurant you had all planned to meet at.

[aetherdecember]

Look, I love BBC Merlin and how they told the lore, but I’m a sucker for the relationship between Arthur and Mordred in the mythology. Specifically, I love how Mary Stewart (author of The Arthurian Saga**) and Nancy Springer (author of I Am Mordred**) wrote about the father/son relationship between them. So naturally, my brain has been conjuring up how I can include that in my Flipping the Coin au.

Since the main premise is Merlin died/Arthur lives, and now Arthur is the one waiting for Merlin to come back, things would stay consistent with canon up to the last episode (when Merlin flips the coin of their destiny and sacrifices himself so Arthur can live and thus stop Camlann from happening altogether). Which is where this idea will start:

Gwen is barren. She and Arthur never have kids. Eventually, everyone Arthur knows and loves dies. He can’t rule Camelot forever, and after Gwen’s death, he no longer wants to, so he fakes his death and wanders off figure out why he’s still here. He never gets an answer for that. Arthur spends the next millennium waiting. He keeps living. He meets people, experiences things he’d never experienced before, and learns things he’d never dreamed of learning. He can’t stay anywhere long, or else suspicions will rise, but he gets to see the world change, how technology advances, and witness humans continuing to be humans. When war breaks out, he joins the battle. It’s familiar. The rush of adrenaline is the same whether he’s wielding a sword or a gun. Only, he can’t see the enemy’s face anymore.

Peace comes again. At some point, he sleeps with a woman, and she happens to become pregnant. Bisexual disaster that he is, he’s had all sorts of partners from both sexes, but has never had this happen, even before the advent of reliable birth control. Later, he’ll learn her name is Morgause. She doesn’t look like the Morgause he knew before, nor does she act like her, but her name haunts him. After the baby is born, she gives him to Arthur, says she has no intentions of being a mother, and leaves. The last thing she had said to him was the baby’s name.

Mordred.

That night, Arthur holds Mordred and weeps.

There is irony in his son being named Mordred. First, in that the legends surrounding him, Merlin, Camelot, the Knights of the Round Table, and all of it, had long ago decided Mordred was his son. And two, in a retelling of that legend, it had aptly phrased what he sensed was happening now. Granted, he isn’t a sorcerer, he doesn’t have magic, so he can’t support his feeling with anything other than he’d been around a long time and knew to his very core that it was true. Mordred’s birth is a signal of the beginning of the end.

Fatherhood brings him a new sense of purpose. Gone are the days of loneliness and drudgery. Every day with Mordred brings a new light into his life. Each smile is a miracle. Seeing Mordred experience things for the first time brings a new appreciation. Being there to watch him grow makes time fly like it never has before. But Arthur is afraid. He doesn’t want to be his father. He doesn’t know how to be a father, or what the right way to do it is. In all the years he’s been on the Earth, he’s never known a man who could concretely say, “This is the way to raise a son,” and actually reap the fruits of their efforts. Too frequently, he’d seen sons grow outside of the visions their fathers molded for them and receive only disappointment and disdain in return. So he was afraid, because he too had been that son.

*cue a series of fluffy father/son one shots of Arthur raising Mordred until Merlin comes back, takes one look, and is is like WTF????? No, I won’t have Mordred for a step son >:(*

**Mary Stewart and Nancy Springer have several other works, not just the stories I mentioned. The ones mentioned are the ones I’m pulling inspiration from ^^

Additional notes below the break:

Guinevere’s barrenness is not a headcanon I typically subscribe to for BBC Merlin. My headcanon is that after Arthur’s death, Gwen gives birth, and their child eventually succeeds her as ruler.

I’ve always seen Mordred’s appearance as the harbinger of Arthur’s downfall. Thus, the reason for the plot bunnies in my brain going crazy with this idea of how I could bring him in, still remain mostly canon compliant with BBC Merlin, and build off some of my favorite parts of the lore. (Mandatory disclaimer: for BBC Merlin, I don’t headcanon Mordred as Arthur’s son. But for the mythology, I do wholeheartedly support that canon.)

Arthur’s choice to participate and live once Camelot is gone is a decision to contrast my headcanon of how Merlin handled it. I don’t think Merlin thrived. I think he stayed busy, and tried to remain hopeful, but I think he was anxiously consumed with the anticipation of wondering when Arthur would come back. In this au, Arthur may or may not know that Merlin is supposed to come back (I’m still working on that detail), but he’s always been around others. I think he would seek camaraderie, and companionship, and that he would connect with others but only to a superficial level. I don’t think he’d exist in a void of loneliness. Plus, he doesn’t have the guilt of knowing he failed because the pressure from the prophecy is very one sided *coughcough*causemerlinnevertoldhim*coughcough*

Anyways, that’s enough rambling from me about this. I’ll probably share some snippets of writing next because there are some fantastic scenes coming together in the draft so stay tuned! ;D

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires- Part 2

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 698

Masterlist

I can't wait for you to come back, and on Monday, you do.

Don't get me wrong, (Y/n), I've tried to look you up. I'm sure you understand why. You can’t blame a guy for being careful. These days, you have to find out everything you can about a person before getting involved with them.

But for someone who seems to enjoy attention so much in real life, you have almost no online presence. Your social media are all on private, and Googling your name left me with very little information. I found a high school picture of you, with some Dutch text that - when translated to English - amounts to basically nothing.

Anyway, you're back now. You meet my eyes for a second as you come in, but then you disappear between the isles. I try not to keep track of where you are too much, but it's impossible not to notice you.

You're wearing light blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt today. There's text on it, but I haven't been able to read it yet. You're also wearing a beanie. Bad hair day? You can't be cold, it's still the middle of summer.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you come to the counter.

Today's book is The Handmaid's Tale. You're in the mood for something shocking.

“Hello again,” I say.

You seem pleasantly surprised.

“You remember me? I thought for sure I would have gotten lost in a sea of faces. I mean, this is New York.”

“No, of course I remember. Dutch girl. Joyland,” I tell you, as if I don't remember your name at all. As if my search history isn't currently all you.

You smile, glance at my nametag. I noticed you didn't do that last time.

“(Y/n),” you remind me. “And you're… Joe.”

“Guilty. Joe Goldberg.”

You look up, meeting my eyes. Yours are brown. The text on your shirt says ‘No inspiration today, sorry.’

“So did you like it?” I ask, as I ring you up. “Joyland, I mean.”

“It was good,” you say. “I tore through it in a day.”

Yet you stayed away for nearly a week. You don't want to seem too eager.

“Well, you'll like this one,” I say. “Or hate it. It's very morbid.”

“I like morbid,” you assure me, as you hand me your card. “And creepy.”

“The Handmaid's Tale probably can't be qualified as creepy, sorry to disappoint.”

“Isn't it about women who are forced to breed? It sounds creepy to me.”

When you put it like that, I guess you're not wrong.

I wonder if you like scary movies. We could go to one, together. Afterward, you wouldn't want to sleep alone.

“Well,” I say. “You'll have to let me know if you found it creepy, then, I guess.”

You hesitate. Then, you say: “Not to sound weird, but maybe I could let you know over text?” You pause, waiting for me to answer. When I don't immediately (because I can't believe my luck), you rush to add: “This isn't a come-on. I would never, like, flirt with someone who has to be nice to me. You're working, y'know? It's just… I only just moved here, and I haven't made many friends–”

I hold up my hand, smiling.

“I didn't think it was a come-on. Texting sounds good. Do you have your phone?”

When you get it from your pocket, I tell you my number, and you put it in your contacts. You're careful about it, I notice. You don't want to get a single number wrong.

You look up at me, then pick up your book. You're breezing out again, but that's okay, because you're going to come back. Even better: you're going to text me.

Today is a good day.

Behind me, there's a whistle. I turn, and Ethan is grinning at me.

“Did a girl just ask for your number? Lucky.”

“Go stock the shelves, Ethan.”

“I already did.” Ethan shakes his head. “Why are all the pretty girls who come here always into you? Leave some tail for the rest of us, man.”

‘Tail.’ Disgusting. Ethan makes everything sound sordid. Even something as beautiful as you.

[worthyprnce]

my beloved guinevere

this is something I made last month! it is kinda rushed but I really like it. I love looooove when gwen wears that light blue dress and her hair like that and I am stupidly in love with her so yeah. I made this for my queen <3

❕ please do not repost without credits :)

[rubinaitoart]

I would love any crumbs of anything you're writing rn /nf /gen

(I keep seeing you go insane so thought I would see what you are interested in :3)

“I keep seeing you go insane” HAH yeah it’s even worse on discord lmao

The current WIP I have is based completely on spite. That’s it. I absolutely hated how the Lamia episode ended because. BECAUSE. BECAUSE.

You’re telling me after they kill the Lamia, everything is back to normal and perfectly fine between everyone. You’re telling me Merlin was actively threatened by some of the people he trusted the most, to the point he actually started COWERING a little when they got mad at him, and he walked out of that without even a little bit of emotional distress? A smidgeon of trauma? You’re telling me none of the knights apologized to him or to Guinevere, because even though it’s not their fault every single one of them would have still felt some form of guilt over scaring them like that, you’re TELLING ME—

^^^ Live footage of Rubin being carried off before he starts yelling even more /lh ^^^

It made me so MAD that it got wrapped up with everyone in good spirits and Arthur making fun of Merlin for being saved by a girl, and everything was fine and happy and ARGHHHH.

So yeah I started writing a fic to expand on what I feel should’ve happened after that episode I guess? Except make it a Merthur AU where they’ve been dancing around their feelings for all four seasons up until this point.

I’ve been going back and forth on this draft for a bit, so there’s a good chance whatever I end up publishing to AO3 will look COMPLETELY different. It’s also very clunky and not well edited but I figure that’s a given right now lol. Both options start the same before splitting into two different drafts, currently labeled D1 and D2 respectively.

I’ll dump a few snippets below the cut since this is already looking like a long post. Everything so far is in Arthur’s POV.

From the shared start: Set when Arthur shows up just in time to rescue Guinevere and Merlin from the Lamia.

A few seconds of silence stretched out before Arthur jerked forward and rushed to Merlin’s side.

“Better late than never.” Merlin groaned, but that stupid, goofy grin that Arthur loved more than he’d ever admit was plastered all over that smug face of his. “What took you so long?”

“You’re welcome.” Arthur said pointedly. Guinevere moved to help Merlin sit up, and the king didn’t miss the way his servant’s face twisted into a pained grimace, or how his hand quickly grabbed at his side. It hurt to see Merlin in any kind of pain, a dull ache in his chest that was somehow worse than anything Arthur had suffered in the past. “Are you hurt?”

“A little bruised, maybe.” Merlin leaned heavily against Guinevere. “Better off than everyone else though.” He added quickly, and Arthur’s eyes narrowed slightly.

“Do you know where they are?” The king wanted to ask an entirely different question, but their objective held priority. They were safe, the lamia was dead, and the others were still missing.

“Elyan isn’t far.” Guinevere loosened her hold on Merlin—reluctantly, Arthur noted—and moved him to lean against a pillar. “I’m not entirely sure about the others.”

Arthur straightened up, gesturing for one of the knights. “Bevan, help Merlin outside. Cecil, with me.” He ordered. The king glanced towards his servant once again briefly before he extended his hand to Guinevere and helped her to her feet. “Lead the way.”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Bevan gathering Merlin up into his arms and hefting him up into the air. The man made a soft, pained sound in the back of his throat that was horribly loud to Arthur’s ears. Carefully with him, or I’ll have you in the stocks lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he bit back his words and turned to follow Guinevere. Bevan’s receding footsteps faded, and they pressed onward.

“He’ll be alright.” Guinevere murmured to him. She reached over to lightly squeeze his arm, a small comfort for the moment.

“Mm, he better be.” Arthur said quietly in reply. “He’s a good friend, I’d hate to lose him.” They ducked under a fallen beam, and Arthur lapsed into a contemplative quiet. Merlin was so much more than just a friend to Arthur, something he’d struggled to admit to himself for a long time. What he was, however, was just out of reach.

So in typical fashion the king did what he always did best—try his damndest to ignore what he felt, because it could never come to be.

From D1, which is set as everyone leaves Longstead. Merlin is preparing Arthur’s horse before they leave despite still recovering from his injuries, man is just insisting on staying busy.

The king watched Merlin from afar as the servant busied himself with tacking up Arthur’s steed. He couldn’t look away, even if he wanted to.

Slightly curled raven locks and pale cheeks dappled with sunlight, Merlin’s brow furrowed slightly in concentration. His slender, pale hands deftly checked the leather straps, and his fingers occasionally strayed away to brush against the stallion’s ebony coat. A faint smile finally appeared in its truest and most genuine form as the horse turned its head to bump its nose gently against Merlin’s shoulder with a soft nicker. Arthur watched as Merlin finished securing the saddle and turned to gently take the horse’s face in his hands, rubbing his palm up and down the side of its head in slow, soothing strokes. Beautiful, he couldn’t help but think. That traitorous feeling of longing welled up in his chest and Arthur found himself tempted across the small clearing to join the servant.

Almost immediately, the longing was replaced with guilt and a hefty dose of self-loathing. Merlin was in no small amount of distress, and here he was practically ogling at the man. He turned away before Merlin could catch him staring and searched the clearing for something he could busy himself with, and hopefully rid himself of the shame that had overtaken the king.

From D2, which is set directly after Arthur, Merlin, Guinevere, and the knights return to the village so Gaius can treat them: Gaius and Guinevere are busy with the knights, so Arthur takes it upon himself (as any good king no would do, of course) to try and tend to Merlin’s wounds himself. The best he can do is clean the gash on Merlin’s forehead, but he’s trying his best okay?

Far and few between were times that Arthur Pendragon found himself worried about his manservant. Merlin was an odd man, clumsy and strange at the best of times, prone to bouts of misfortune that he’d somehow miraculously overcome. Injuries were as rare as sickness, and he was right there at Arthur’s side day after day. Yet here he was, sleeves rolled up and a damp cloth in hand as he worried over Merlin. Thankfully the only ones around to see it were Gaius and Guinevere—the knights were still unconscious, and the physician and seamstress were busy tending to them.

It was just Arthur and Merlin, tucked away in the corner of the little hovel they were using as an infirmary.

“This feels backwards.” His servant muttered, wincing as Arthur lightly pressed the cloth to his forehead. Blood soaked into it quickly, weeping from a shallow cut on the side of his face that looked far worse than it actually was—head wounds were funny like that. And yet after all these years, after countless battles where he’d seen wounds worse than this over and over, seeing Merlin bloodied and bruised always made his heart lurch. It was so wrong.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Arthur mused, pulling the cloth back to inspect the injury. There wasn’t exactly much he could do other than try to stem the blood flow and clean away any dirt and debris until Gaius could take a proper look at it, but it was something.

He could feel Merlin’s eyes boring into him. “You’ll live, unfortunately.” Arthur added after a moment, flashing his teeth at the servant in a brief grin.

“Unfortunately for me, yes.” Merlin sank back against the cot. “I’ll be back to cleaning your stinking socks within the next few days.” His eyes remained affixed to Arthur, half-lidded and tired, and for the briefest of moments his face betrayed him to his king. Something heavy weighed on him, his gaze reflecting the burden of Atlas; then Arthur blinked, and it was like it hadn’t even been there in the first place.

What a strange thing to see on Merlin’s face.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 14

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 5,847

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6

Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Read on Ao3

The day before the feast, you add the finishing touches to your gown and remove any stray threads you missed, until at last you can call it finished. You pack away your sewing things, regularly glancing at the gown to admire your hard work. Once all your tools are neatly tucked inside, you snap shut the lid of your sewing box when there’s a knock at your door.

“Just a moment!” You call out, bundling up the dress and taking it to your room, throwing it onto the bed before rushing to open the door to Gwaine.

“Harvest feast tomorrow,” He grins, clapping his hands together.

“And I have finished my gown,” You reply excitedly.

“I suppose I’m still not allowed to see it?” Gwaine quirks a brow.

“You need only wait one more day,”

“Then I await eagerly. But I have news of something before the feast. It has come to my attention that there will be food stalls and games in the tournament grounds during the day. I wondered if you might like to go together and see what it’s all about?”

“That does sound interesting… and I have no other plans,”

“Shall I come get you after breakfast then?”

“Sounds perfect,” You smile.

“Oh, and wear something you don’t mind getting dirty. The tournament grounds are muddy this time of year,”

“I’ll wear something that’s already brown,”

Gwaine chuckles. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, I’m meeting Percival at the tavern. See you tomorrow,”

~

Having requested water be brought up to your chambers that evening for bathing, and having paid the servants handsomely for their trouble in this busy time of year, you submerge yourself in the bathtub. You wash your entire body thoroughly as well as your hair, determined for everything to be perfect for tomorrow.

Once the water becomes tepid, you step out of the bath, dry yourself and get dressed, before tidying up for the night. Once your hair has dried some, but is still slightly damp, you apply the rags to your hair as Gwen showed you, and head to bed.

~

You rise the next morning, washing your face before getting dressed and covering your rag-wrapped hair with your regular cap, not wishing to reveal the new hairstyle until the feast tonight. You have breakfast and wash up, putting the last of the dishes away as there’s a knock at your door.

“Good morning,” Gwaine greets you, wearing his casual clothes. “Shall we?” He offers his arm to you with a grin.

You take your cloak from the hook beside the door, put it on, slip your arm through his and head out.

The tournament grounds have been transformed, the muddy ground hardly visible between the food stalls, tents, and other attendees. The grounds are already bustling with adults and children alike, with various mouth-watering aromas wafting through the air.

“Ah, here’s a good game,” Gwaine steers you toward a small tent with a bearded man, of about middle-age, standing by it. Under the shelter of the tent, you spot variously sized pails, each marked with a number, and by the tent’s opening, another pail is filled with apples.

“Welcome gentleman and gentlelady,” The man says cheerfully. “One silver for a turn, what do you say?”

Gwaine looks to you, brows raised in question.

“I’ll try it, if you support me from the sidelines,” You say.

Gwaine unfastens a pouch on his belt and removes the required coin, handing it to the gamemaster, who pockets it and nods his thanks.

“Has the lady ever played before?” He asks.

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” You reply.

“That is all well and good, for I shall explain the rules. To play this game, you shall take an apple,” He picks one from the nearby pail. “And toss it to the buckets yonder. As you can see, the smaller buckets toward the back are worth higher points, and the closer, larger buckets are worth less. Throw the apples until there are none left, trying to score the highest number of points you can. The more points you earn, the better the prize. Is the lady ready to begin?”

You look to Gwaine, who gives you an encouraging smile.

“I’m ready,” You reply to the gamemaster, fishing an apple from the pail.

It’s bruised and marked, clearly having been used for the game several times already. You toss the fruit with an underarm throw, and it bounces off the rim of the nearest bucket, into the mud. You grimace and grab another apple, using a little more force this time. It lands in the nearest bucket, worth ten points. On your third throw, you earn another ten points.

“You should try for the ones at the back,” Gwaine encourages.

You attempt it, your fourth toss overly forceful, the apple flying over all the pails and landing somewhere behind them, out of sight. You try again, but the apple bounces off the rim of one of the pails.

You look to Gwaine with a grimace. “Perhaps I should settle for a smaller prize,”

You throw the sixth and final apple, which lands in the pail worth twenty points.

“Forty points in total,” The gamemaster announces. “A good effort for the lady’s first time. Wait here a moment, I’ll get your prize,”

He turns and steps toward a wooden crate a few feet to the right of the pail of apples. Reaching into the crate, he removes a small item which he passes to you.

“Made by my wife,” He says. “To keep ladies’ clothes smelling nice while they are stored,”

You inspect the small prize in your hands. It’s a drawstring bag, made from a sheer fabric, with flower petals within it. Raising the bag to your nose, you inhale the floral aroma of roses.

“Please pass my compliments on to your wife,” You say. “This is a lovely prize,”

The gamemaster smiles widely. “She will be very pleased to hear it,”

After wandering through the grounds a while, taking in what the fair has to offer, Gwaine stops by another game tent.

“How about this?” He asks.

“I believe it’s your turn for a game,” You grin. “I shall cheer you on,”

Gwaine agrees and approaches the gamemaster, handing him a coin. Peering into the tent, you see a table at the far end, with ten cups stacked upon it in a triangular formation.

“What’s the aim of this game?” You ask.

“You take these,” Gwaine leans down to a hay bale beside the tent’s entrance, on which is a small pile of little sacks. He picks one up and bounces it in his hand. Judging by the sound of it, it’s filled with grain. “And toss them at the cups, trying to knock as many over as you can,”

He pulls his arm back and throws the sack. It hits the cup on the bottom right, but the cup only shifts slightly.

“I did wonder,” He murmurs.

“About what?” You ask.

“The cups are filled with water to make them harder to shift,”

“Ah, sneaky,” You smirk.

“Luckily, I’m the strongest knight,” He grins and grabs the next sack, throwing it with much more force this time.

Three cups tumble off the table. He throws the remaining sacks, knocking over eight cups in total. The gamemaster congratulates him and leads him to a small handcart nearby to choose a prize. Gwaine returns to you a few moments later, placing something into your hand.

“For you, my dear,”

Your heart flutters at the term of endearment and you look into your open palm to see a small whittled horse.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I love it,” You smile.

You continue through the grounds and find another game to play, which consists of a tub filled with water, containing small wooden fish, each with a metal ring attached to it. With a miniature fishing rod (a hook attached to the end of a string, tied onto a stick), you’re given three chances to hook a fish, each marked with a number on the bottom which cannot be seen until it is caught. From this game, you win a handkerchief, embroidered with a simplified version of the golden dragon from Camelot’s crest.

After Gwaine purchases lunch for the both of you from one of the food stalls, you head back to the castle.

“Thank you, Gwaine,” You say once you reach your chamber door. “That was fun,”

“There’s more to be had tonight,” He smiles.

Slamming footsteps echo through the corridor, the sound causing you and Gwaine to turn your heads in unison to see Merlin rushing toward you. He skids to a halt a few feet away and pants.

“I saw you both coming this way,” He says breathily. “Just wanted to let you know that Erika won’t be coming tonight,”

Gwaine quirks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“She’s come up with a terrible rash, all over her face and everything,”

Gwaine presses his lips together into a line, but his eyes hold a twinkle of mirth.

“I see,” You say steadily, attempting to hide your relief and triumph from your face.

“Have a great time tonight!” Merlin beams, before turning on his heel and rushing back the way he came.

You and Gwaine catch each other’s gaze and chuckle.

“Well, I hope that eases any worries you might have had,” He says.

“As uncharitable as it may sound to admit, it really has,”

“It’s not uncharitable at all, considering who we’re speaking of,” Gwaine says. “Besides, her affliction won’t be anything that Gaius can’t clear up in a few days,”

“I suppose you’re right,” You nod thoughtfully. “Have you much to do before tonight?”

“Just polish my armour until it gleams,” He grimaces. “I already had my cloak laundered earlier this week, and you’ll be pleased to hear it’s still in top condition,”

“I am pleased to hear that,” You agree. “Well, I will let you attend to your armour and I shall see you tonight,”

“I’ll come and get you at six?”

“I will be ready,”

Gwaine reaches out a hand, cupping your face. Your heart quickens as you think he might kiss you, but he strokes his thumb gently across your cheek before pulling away, giving you a warm look and departing.

Once checking over your gown again, you idle away the next few hours, the sensation of Gwaine’s hand on your cheek still present. You have been yearning for his touch since his sensual hand kiss outside your chamber a few days before, finding yourself hoping for more every time you see him.

~

At last, the evening approaches. You go to your room, remove your clothes and swap your stockings, since the current pair is flecked with mud. In just your shift and clean stockings, you pull up a chair to the basin mirror and take off your cap to begin removing the rags from your hair. Once they are all removed, you begin the lengthy process of brushing through the fresh curls to tame them. Once you are happy with it, you slip into your new gown, using the mirror to aid you with fastening the side lacings.

The basin mirror too small to offer a full view, you move to the tall mirror in your main chamber by the work tables. As you gaze at your reflection, your chest swells with pride for your creation. The silver gown hugs your form to your waist, where it flares into a full skirt. The narrow sleeves on your forearms peek out from the wide scarlet sleeves of the over-robe, which forms into a cape at the back, and is secured at your throat with a gold clasp.

You finger the ends of your hair, anxiety about your appearance returning as the hour draws closer. You start to wish you had made some kind of head covering after all as a backup, but it’s too late now, you have no choice but to be seen like this.

You return to your bedchamber to brush through your hair again, manipulating it with your hands to form it how you want. Once that’s done, you apply some perfume to your neck and wrists before sitting on the edge of your bed, your stomach squirming with anticipation.

There’s a knock at your door and your mouth turns bone dry. Is it six o’clock already? You stand and lift your skirts to walk swiftly to the door. You open the door a crack, Gwaine looking back at you through the small gap.

“Are you ready to go?” He asks with a smile.

“I… suppose so,”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been stupid,”

“Stupid? How do you mean?” His brow creases with concern.

Seeing nothing else to do but show him, you swing the door wide open. He looks you up and down, lips parted, and you have the overwhelming urge to shrink away and hide, but before you can make any move, Gwaine rushes toward you, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips crash into yours. Your body goes rigid with shock and he pulls away, wide eyes searching yours.

“I’m sorry, I –”

Flinging your arms around his neck, you pull his face toward you, your lips enveloping his, tasting him as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his. His hair brushes against your face as he deepens the kiss and your body goes slack in his embrace. You realise how much you’ve wanted this, needed this, to be so close to him, his arms around you, his actions, not just his words, showing how much he desires you.

You slowly pull away, eyes searching his to gauge his own feelings.

“(Y/N),” Gwaine says breathily. “I –”

“Took your time?” You suggest with a sly smile.

He laughs. “I suppose I did. I just,” He takes your hands into his. “Didn’t want to rush into anything. “Especially with everything that’s happened,”

“Let’s not dwell on falsehoods that were spoken about us. We know the truth,”

“You’re right,” He smiles, and takes a step back, looking you up and down. “You look magnificent. Your gown – knight’s colours?”

You nod.

“Give me a twirl, then,”

You chuckle, recalling your command to him to do the same when you made his new cloak, and spin around on the spot, your skirts flaring around you with the movement. Gwaine applauds and steps toward you, extending a hand to stroke your hair.

“I love it,” He says in a low tone.

“Really?” You look up at him. “You don’t think the other ladies will laugh at me?”

“I don’t think so. But if there’s anyone who does, they will suffer my wrath,”

“Your wrath? Goodness, will you strike them down where they stand?”

“I might, if pressed,”

“Well then, let’s hope you remain thoroughly un-pressed throughout the evening,”

Gwaine grins, before exclaiming. “Oh, I almost forgot,” He fishes in his pocket and procures a small item which he places in your hand. “I got you a little something,”

You look at the item in your open palm. It’s a small and ornate metal box. It’s oval shaped and engraved with a pattern of swirling leaves and flowers, a deep blue gemstone set in its centre.

“I thought maybe you could store your sewing needles in it,” Gwaine says. “Or whatever you prefer,”

You look up at him with a smile. “Thank you, Gwaine. It’s beautiful, and is the perfect size for my sewing needles. But I didn’t get you anything,”

“Don’t worry about that. You’ve done more than enough for me,”

You step forward and embrace him, the box still clasped in one hand.

“Shall we head to the feast?” He asks, his thumb rubbing small strokes on your back. “Or is the plan to be fashionably late?”

You pull away to see his smile, before you take the trinket box up to your room and place it on the bedside table. You return to Gwaine, who offers you his arm. You slip your arm through his and you both leave your chambers for the great hall.

The heavy double doors of the hall are propped open, allowing the golden candlelight to spill out to the corridor. Gwaine leads you within, where long tables line either side of the hall, the benches behind them already mostly filled with guests. At the far end of the room is another table, shorter than the rest, facing out, where the king and queen are seated, overlooking their guests.

Elyan spots you and Gwaine as you enter and approaches.

“Gwaine,” He says, giving his friend a playful smack on the arm. “Late, as always,” He turns to you and bows. “Good to see you, (Y/N),”

“Good evening, Sir Elyan,” You reply with a smile. “I’m afraid the blame for our lateness lies with me tonight,”

“Well, any extra time spent in preparation has paid off, (Y/N). You look stunning,”

“Thank you,” You smile. “You’re very kind,”

“Just stating facts,” Elyan winks.

“Go and woo someone else’s lady,” Gwaine shakes his head with a smile.

“Perhaps I will,” Elyan says with a grin, and returns the way he came.

“I didn’t realise Elyan was a flirt,” You remark.

“He’s not really, he just likes to rile me,”

“And are you riled?”

He chuckles. “No, it just makes me feel even luckier to have you on my arm,”

“Sweet-talker,” You nudge him playfully. Glancing to the front of the hall, you see that Gwen has spotted you. “You can greet your friends if you wish,” You say to Gwaine. “I would like to speak with the Queen,”

“Alright, I’ll save you a seat,” He unthreads your arm from his and kisses your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go.

You approach the royal table and Gwen stands, walking around to meet you, pulling you into an embrace as you approach.

“You look gorgeous, (Y/N),” She says. “Your gown is breathtaking; you are a true artist. And your hair looks beautiful,”

“Thanks to you,” You reply. “I wouldn’t have known what to do without your help,”

Gwen smiles and hooks her arm around yours, leading you around the hall.

“Sir Gwaine looks very dashing tonight,” She says, giving you a sly look.

“He looks just as dashing as he always does, only his armour is shinier than usual,”

Gwen chuckles. “It is a bit monotonous having the knights just wear their uniforms for special events. Perhaps I could submit a petition to change it? But then I foresee I’d receive some resistance from those who prefer not to have to think how to dress themselves,”

“Perhaps we should leave it then,” You reply. “So we need not witness any crimes of fashion. Monotony is more bearable than that,”

Gwen laughs as you turn at the front corner of the hall, approaching the knights’ table.

“I shall leave you with your dashing knight,” She stops behind an empty space between Gwaine and Sir Leon.

“Dashing knight?” Percival turns his head from beside Gwaine. “You must mean me,”

Gwaine elbows him before scooting over slightly, allowing you room to step over the bench and sit down, smoothing your skirts.

“Have fun,” Gwen smiles, before heading back to her place.

Shortly after, the hall goes quiet as the king stands, goblet raised in one hand. He expresses his gratitude and thanks to the kingdom’s farmers for a bountiful harvest, and urges everyone to enjoy the feast. Once he’s seated again, the chatter resumes and servants flood into the hall, bearing platters of food. The royal table is served first, then both the guest tables simultaneously.

“Can I get you something?” Gwaine asks, once another round of servants place down plates and cutlery in front of every guest.

You glance over the abundance of food laid out before you. “A bit of everything within reach,”

Gwaine grins and begins to load up your plate. A minute or so later, he places your plate, now covered with a mountain of food, back down in front of you, before attending to his own.

“Would you like something to drink, (Y/N)?” Leon asks from your other side. “There’s ale, wine and mead,”

“Oh,” You purse your lips thoughtfully, as you remember the delicious and warming drink you shared with Gwen during the intermission at the jousting tournament. “I’ll have some mead, thank you Sir Leon,”

“Just Leon will do, we’re all friends here,” He smiles and reaches for a flagon, bringing it forth to pour some of the golden liquid into your goblet.

You thank him and take a sip of the rich drink, before starting on the pile of food in front of you, sighing at the wondrous flavours that bless your tongue.

“Good, isn’t it?” Gwaine leans in to your ear to be heard, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“You must invite me to every feast from now on,” You reply.

“I was planning to,” His eyes twinkle in the candlelight.

You finish your plate, declining Gwaine’s offer of seconds only for fear that your stomach might burst. When the feasting is finished, conversation flows more steadily throughout the hall, guests’ mouths no longer occupied with chewing.

While you have some conversation with Gwaine and Sir Leon since they are beside you, you can’t manage much more above the noise. Your mind wanders to what occurred only hours ago. You glance beside you, watching his mouth as he brings his goblet to his lips, and you wish you could retire early and head back to your chambers, just the two of you. Gwaine catches your eye and you give him a quick smile, attempting to disguise the nature of your thoughts, before reaching for your own drink and draining the rest. You ask Sir Leon to pass you the mead flagon and refill your goblet before the king stands, the hall going quiet again.

“I have called in the minstrels, so the dancing may begin!” He offers his hand to Gwen, and she takes it and stands, the king and queen making their way around their table and to the middle of the hall.

Noticing movement in the corner of your eye, behind the royal table, you spot a small group of minstrels seated together. The king and queen get into position, the king turns his head to the minstrels and nods, and they begin to play. The king and queen dance as the guests, including yourself, look on, however your focus is not so much on their dancing, but their faces. Their love and adoration for each other is clear to see, and it brings a smile to your face.

A few minutes later, the music ends and the king and queen return to their seats, as members of the nobility gather in the centre, and the minstrels play another tune. The music is pleasing and you find yourself lightly swaying with the rhythm.

“Would you care for a dance?” Gwaine asks from beside you.

You chuckle. “Oh no, you’d better not ask me; I don’t know how,”

“There’s no one else I’d want to ask,” He replies and glances to the dancers ahead. “I haven’t danced like this for a long time, not since before my father passed. But I’m sure it’s all still in here somewhere,” He taps against his temple with the tip of his index finger. “I can teach you,”

He offers his hand to you. You glance between his open palm and eager eyes with a grimace.

“Not in front of everyone,” He clarifies. “There’s a quiet looking spot over there,” He inclines his head to the front left corner of the hall. “We can dance our own little jig with our own rules. What do you say?”

You look to the aforementioned corner, seeing that it is unoccupied, and out of the way. Surely no one would look there, when all the goings-on are happening in the centre of the hall.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I accept your proposal,” You slip your hand into Gwaine’s.

He grins, and you take two large gulps from your goblet before you allow Gwaine to guide you from the table. When you reach the chosen dancing spot, Gwaine lets go of your hand.

“Right, let’s see… first, we must stand apart,” He takes you by the shoulders and gently guides you a few steps back.

You stay in position as he retreats a few steps away and turns to face you.

“I bow, and you curtsy,” He continues, and you both do so. “Now we close the gap and take each other’s hand,”

You follow his lead as he approaches and extends his right arm, and you take his hand in your left. He turns his body and encourages you to do the same, so you are both facing the same way now, standing side-by-side and hand-in-hand.

“We take some steps forward,” Gwaine says, and you follow his lead as he talks through the steps. “And some steps back. Then, hang on, I’ll show you,”

He lets go of your hand and hops forward, then alternates between hopping on one foot while the other is extended slightly in front, leg bent, then does a larger hop with a flourish, before doing the same movements again, but moving backwards this time.

“I don’t know how I’m going to remember that,” You frown.

“It’s not so bad,” Gwaine replies. “Let’s go through it together slowly,”

You stand beside him and watch as he goes through the movements slowed down, before attempting to copy him. The two of you go through the slowed down version a total of three times, before Gwaine suggests to try it at full speed. You feel slightly foolish but laugh your way through the steps.

“You’ve got it!” Gwaine exclaims with delight. “Now do it while holding hands,”

You go through the steps again, your fingers enclosed in his.

“And now,” Gwaine says. “We do the same steps while moving in a circle,”

Gwaine guides you, doing the same leg movements as before but gradually turning as you do, until making a full rotation.

“And now, the really fun part,” Gwaine says. “We face each other,” He turns to you and you do the same. He puts his hands on your waist, your heart fluttering at the contact. “Now put your right hand on my shoulder,” He instructs, and you do as he says. “We do the same movements while turning, but on the fourth count, I lift you into the air,”

“You what?”

“Lift you,” Gwaine grins as his hands grip your waist tightly and the next moment, you’re about a foot off the ground.

You squeal with a mix of terror and delight, blushing on your return to solid ground when you notice some of the other guests are looking your way.

“And we do that four times,” Gwaine says. “The part after that is a bit complicated, so we can leave it out. Shall we do it all together now?”

“In a moment, I need some refreshment after all that!”

You return to your place at the table and drain your goblet, finding the flagon and refilling, taking a few sips from that, before returning to Gwaine.

“Nothing like a bit of liquid courage,” You remark.

Eying the dancefloor, you see the noble couples dancing, their movements fluid and graceful.

“Don’t worry about them,” Gwaine says, following your gaze. “They’ve had years of instruction from dancing masters.”

“Did you have a dancing master?” You ask.

“I did back in the day, if you can believe it,” He chuckles. “It’s all part of being from a noble family. You’re lucky you didn’t have to waste so much time attending lessons,”

“Lucky until today, where I have no idea what I’m doing,”

“But tonight, I am your dancing master,” Gwaine gives an exaggerated bow.

“I don’t think you’d be a good dancing master for me,”

Gwaine clutches his chest in mock offence. “Why would you say such a thing, dear lady?”

“Because… I wouldn’t be able to focus on the dancing,”

He smirks. “You’ve managed well enough tonight. Shall we put my instruction to the test?”

The minstrel’s tune finishes with his sentence, and you nod before taking position. The minstrels begin a new tune and you watch for Gwaine’s signal and begin the dance. You move in time with the music, though you stumble through the hopping steps, laughing as you do so. After the section where the steps are performed in a rotation, you face Gwaine and he grips your waist, lifting you into the air. In the next moment, you’re on solid ground again, doing the leg movements, then you’re in the air again, down, up, down and up, you feel giddy and light as air, looking into the face of the man who has become so dear to you as he smiles, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the way you love.

After the fourth and final turn, you and Gwaine laugh, breath laboured from the exercise. Though you’ve reached the end of the steps you’ve been taught, the minstrel’s tune continues. Not wanting the dance to end, you move your hand from Gwaine’s shoulder around to his back, pulling yourself closer to him, so your body is against his. His hands shift from the sides of your waist to the small of your back and you both sway with the music, slowly turning on the spot with small steps. You relish the feeling of his body against yours, wishing you could stay like this forever, when the tune comes to an end. You pull apart slowly, as if waking from a dream.

“You danced well,” Gwaine says softly.

“My gown hid my terrible footwork,”

He smiles. “My favourite part was the bit you improvised at the end,”

His gaze is so tender, his words so sincere, you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks. You take his hand and return to your seats, Sir Leon giving a knowing smile as you sit down. You take another sip of mead as the minstrels begin their next tune. You watch the dancers, chin resting on your palm. If you could dance like them, you think you should want to do it every day. You conjure an image of minstrels set up in the corner of your chambers, playing a tune while you and Gwaine dance.

“You alright there?” Gwaine’s amused voice pulls you back to reality.

“Just daydreaming,”

“What about?”

“Silly things,”

The music stops and the minstrels stand and bow, marking the end of their performance. You join the other guests in applause as the minstrels gather their instruments and quit the hall.

“They were wonderful,” You comment. “There should be music every night,”

“I’ll bring it up to Arthur at the next council meeting,” Gwaine smirks.

“Then we shall have daily music and crimes of fashion,”

“What?” Gwaine chuckles.

“Oh, nothing. Just something Gwen and I spoke of,”

Laughter erupts from the opposite table, in response to some unheard jest. Glancing down your own table, you see Sirs Percival and Elyan arm wrestling. The murmur of chatter fills the hall again now that the dancing and music has come to an end, and your head buzzes from the hours of noise and recent physical activity. You sigh as fatigue hits you.

“It’ll probably be mostly drunken antics from now on, if you wish to retire,” Gwaine murmurs in your ear.

“Perhaps I should, if you don’t mind,” You drain the remaining contents of your goblet. “We wouldn’t want to add my own drunken antics to the display,”

Gwaine stands and offers his hand, aiding you up from your seat. You express your desire to say goodbye to Gwen before you leave, so Gwaine escorts you to the royal table.

“We’re leaving now,” You lean down to speak in Gwen’s ear. “I had a lovely time,”

“It looked like it. I enjoyed your dance,” She smiles between you and Gwaine.

The king leans out to speak from beside the queen. “I hope you enjoyed your first feast in the palace?”

“Very much, sire. I’d never tasted such delights before tonight,”

“I’m glad to hear it,” He smiles.

“We shall bid you goodnight now, sire,” Gwaine says to the king. “My lady,” He bows to the queen.

You and Gwaine walk arm-in-arm down the length of the hall and through the double doors into the corridor. The sound of the festivities fade as you turn into a passage and climb the first flight of stairs.

Once reaching your chambers, you head inside, leaving the door ajar behind you. Feeling no presence at your side, you look back and find Gwaine still standing just outside the entrance.

“Come inside,” You beckon him, extending a hand, which he takes and closes the gap between you.

You cup your hand on his cheek, brushing against his short beard, lightly pulling him closer to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“My dancing master,” You sigh with a serene smile.

“As a general rule, I don’t think you’re supposed to kiss your dancing master,”

“I suppose not. But I am supposed to kiss my…”

Love. You shift your gaze from his as you think the unsaid word. You feel it with all your heart. You love him. But if he is not there yet, not ready to return the words… you do not want to force him into an awkward situation, or worse, have him say the words when he might not mean them.

“My sweetheart,” You settle for the lesser word, returning your gaze to his.

He smiles. “That, of course, is allowed,” He leans in and kisses you.

The sensation of his lips on yours sends a warmth through you, and once he pulls away, you wrap your arms around him. He does the same, cradling the back of your head in one hand.

“It feels so good being in your arms,” You sigh. “Though your armour is a bit hard and cold,”

“I don’t think they had embracing in mind when they designed it,”

You simply hum in response, feeling as if you might drift off in his arms.

“You need to get some rest,” Gwaine rubs your back.

“I’m not tired yet,” You lie.

“Yes, you are,” He laughs “You should get yourself off to bed,”

“But I want to stay with you,”

“You’ll see me again soon enough. We do live in the same castle,” He grins. “I’m going to go, then you can change in to your night things and go to bed,”

You sigh. “Alright,”

Gwaine pulls back to look at you. “Thank you for a wonderful time this evening,” You smile up at him as he plants a tender kiss on your forehead. “Goodnight,”

He lets go of you and heads for the door, stopping to look back from the doorway.

“Goodnight, Sir Gwaine,” You blink sleepily as he closes the door behind him.

[strangelittlestories]

Ever since I rose from the pseudo-dead to find Britain in its time of direst need, I have found myself prone to occasional fits of melancholy.

(Not that I’m bitter. Oh no. I’m thrilled to find myself alone, barring the company of a sentient oversized steak knife, subbing for dear-old-daddy Arthur’s destiny.)

These occasional funks are perhaps to be expected. After all, the experience of being a spirit subsumed by the earth was a dreamlike and peaceful quasi-non-existence. Don’t get me wrong, I kept myself informed of all your drama … but when you’re getting your news by slowly subsuming the brains and bones of the deceased, it kinda comes one step removed.

It was *nice* to have that emotional disconnect. To have a bit of a buffer from the trials and tribulations of inhabiting an organic body with screaming nerves and chemicals rushing about to yell about *feelings*.

Even in the information age - when phone lines and broadband cables began dumping data into the earth - it was a pleasant phantasmagoria of media and gossip.

So waking up in a fresh flesh form, with all that messy live-streamed molecular input … it was a bit of a rollercoaster to readjust. And, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I ever really got a handle on it the first time.

So … yeah, it came with these intense bouts of listless sadness. They felt like, I dunno, like you wandered into a thick fog, but it’s not really fog. It’s a bruise on the face of reality, all purple and yellow and blotchy and sore … and you’re in the middle of it.

And, sure, that feeling is probably par for the course. The surprising bit - and I blame all the memelords I absorbed through the wires for this - is that when I’m feeling this way, I get weirdly *punny*.

Like, the other day, I was thinking about how annoying it is to be stuck with Excalibur, right? This asshole - aside from being remarkably talkative for a shined-up chunk of ore - is a constant reminder of all the family baggage.

And I was thinking:,isn’t it funny that my dad’s ex-girlfriend, a powerful fae and spirit of literal destiny, gifted him a sword called Excalibur.

As if to say to his future partners: I got him a whole-ass magic sword that proclaimed his fate as the one king to rule them all. That’s the ‘calibre’ of ‘ex’ that you’re dealing with, so suck it Guinevere.

(Get it? Ex-calibre?)

Then I wondered: what if dad only dated the Lady for the magic sword?

I guess that’s human men for you. They only want one thing. They’re always just trying to get blade.

…and, inexplicably, wordplay like this makes me feel *better*. And not, y’know, like a monster of the highest order (which, let us not forget, a lot of people think I am).

Wild.

[daisycoloredsims]

guinevere rushing, cleaning

[wildbasil]

I’ve had a few messages asking me to elaborate on my comic and I gotta say, I’m super honoured that people are enjoying my silly little drawings and want to know more!!

In short, Gwyn, Edern and Blodeuwedd are figures from medieval Welsh literature and folklore. I just think they’re neat 😌🌸

Gwyn

Warrior, Arthurian knight, fairy king and supernatural huntsman, Gwyn is associated with lonely places, like moorlands and mountaintops. He’s evasive, untrustworthy and, especially in earlier texts, has a pretty bad temper. In Culhwch and Olwen, he abducts the object of his affection, Creiddylad, right before her marriage. When her fiancé raises an army against him, Gwyn goes off the deep end a bit, raining violence down on his opponents and taking a bunch of them prisoner. He even tortures one guy into insanity by forcing the guy to eat his own dad's heart. Gwyn’s really caught the imagination of writers throughout time, and at least he seems to have chilled out somewhat over the centuries. For some reason, I like imagining him as tired and sort of past it as a mischief-maker.

Edern/Yder/Ider

Edern is a spirited, confident youth and, like his brother, is a knight of King Arthur. He’s slightly better at it, though. Less violence, more chivalry. Apparently a bit of a hunk too since, in the Romance of Yder, Guinevere admits that Edern would be her first choice if she ever remarried (and it seems Edern was Guinevere’s lover in some traditions). He’s also impatient and cocky, frequently rushing ahead into danger, which normally ends badly for him. In Geraint and Enid, he appears as the ill-mannered Knight of the Sparrowhawk. Despite boasting the title of jousting champion for two years running, he ends up getting beaten badly by Geraint and, begging for mercy, is forced to admit that he’s behaving like a little shit. I like imagining him as a dumbass younger brother.

Blodeuwedd

Blodeuwedd is an owl now, but she used to be a woman. When Lleu Llaw Gyffes was cursed to never have a human wife, his meddling uncle Gwydion magicked him one out of flowers. This flower lady was named Blodeuwedd. When she had an affair and, with her lover, tried to kill Lleu, Gwydion punished her by turning her into an owl, a creature reviled by humans and birds alike. But Blodeuwedd never asked to be a woman and she never asked to be an owl; I think it’s impossible not to feel compassion for her. There’s no real connection between her and Gwyn, but I enjoy imagining them as weird friends. After all, Gwyn’s pretty disliked and feared too.

A (Very, Very Short) Reading List

Here are some links if you want to learn more!

Firstly, I recommend reading Sioned Davies’ translation of The Mabinogion, which is a collection of eleven medieval Welsh stories.

The Mabinogion translated by Sioned Davies (2007)

But there are some free translations online too:

The Mabinogion translated by Charlotte Guest (1877)

In particular, these are the stories I mentioned above:

Culhwch and Olwen

Geraint son of Erbin

Math son of Mathonwy

And here's one of my favourites (not from the Mabinogion): the story of St Collen and Gwyn ap Nudd.

Thanks for reading!!

[skyholly]

The best kept secret

Summary: What if Moiraine had a baby daughter she and Siuan were forced to leave to Anvaere to raise as her own?

moiraine/siuan

Chapter 1 here!

Chapter 2 here!

Chapter 3 here!

Chapter 4 here!

Chapter 5 here!

Chapter 6 here!

Chapter 7 here!

Chapter 8 here!

****************

Chapter 9. Rand

She’s a mirage , Rand thought in disbelief, his eyes softening with affection nonetheless, then I must be dying already . But what a precious sight she was; death really could not greet him with kinder hands than to have her be his last vision. Despite his vision being blurred, he could still make out her figure, dressed in a lavender-coloured gown, pale and soft against the glow of her skin; he could make out the warmth of her hair, the ever-present brightness and kindness in her eyes. She was so lovely, as lovely a sight as there could be. Ilyena, Gwen, he loved them both the same. 

“Gwen,” Rand breathed her name, his lips curling into a peaceful smile, his voice laced with a tender sweetness. The pain pouring from the venomous dagger embedded in his side spread through his entire body, feeling as if it were scorching his muscles, bones and skin away. His vision was foggy, but he could still discern Guinevere rushing towards him, painfully kneeling above the debris by his side, her arms instinctively reaching for his blood-tainted stomach. The warmness of her skin against his overcame any pain he might have been feeling, and suddenly his mind became clear once again.��She’s real… she’s real and she’s here, he realised, his heart sinking into his stomach. That cannot be. She shouldn’t be here. Ishamael is here, she will get hurt — “W-what are you doing here?” Rand heard himself stutter, voice shaken with apprehension, “How did you get here? I thought Lanfear…”

The girl promptly shushed him, as she delicately traced his injury with her fingers, as she closed her eyes, imperceptibly reaching for the Source. Rand stared in awe at his torn skin starting to heal itself back together, stopping the bleeding and the poison from spreading any further. In only mere seconds there was nothing left but a darkened, muddy mark over his skin where the knife had been once buried. He lifted his gaze to Guinevere, his eyes filled with devotion, before Egwene’s screams of pain brought him crashing back to the harsh reality of their situation. All of his dearest friends were there, endangered because of Ishamael, because of him, it was his fault they had been caught up in such a mess. You will carry the weight of their deaths. 

“Rand, Rand!” Mat urged him, softly shaking his shoulders. It took Rand a moment to realise he was lying on his friend’s arms. “You’re gonna have to do something.”

The readheaded boy lethargically raised his hand, trying to reach for the Source, but found nothing but a void in its place. He felt harrowingly empty. 

“I- I can’t,” he blubbered, drowsily starting to remember the events that had taken place prior to Mat throwing that dagger at his stomach, “I’m shielded.” 

Rand heard someone nervously sigh by his side, and saw Guinevere close her eyes in desperation, clutching the blue stone hanging over her chest as if in prayer. And then suddenly, he sensed the weaves that restricted him starting to grow weaker, and the shield over him fell apart, he could feel the Source once again, almost begging for his touch. Or is it the other way around? He heard Guinevere exhale a shaky ‘thank you’, before letting a lonely tear fall through her cheek. 

He stumbled out of Mat’s hold, screeching resounding in his ears, as Perrin and Gwen helped him up, and he walked towards Egwene, whose breath and stability were growing weaker by the second due to her efforts to protect them from Ishamael’s attacks. Gwen attempted to follow him, but he gently pushed her into Perrin’s arms, away from any possible danger. He could practically feel the girl’s fury showing on her face, but didn’t look back. 

Rand reached Egwene’s side, as her shield that had protected them faltered away, and picked his sword from the ground right next to her, the heron mark on its hilt dangerously shimmering under the sun. He walked with steady, fast steps towards Ishamael, reaching for the Source, letting it engulf him whole; and a grunt left his lips as he embedded the sword right into the man’s chest. Rand knew he was doing the correct thing, for he was both protecting his friends and the world by killing him, but he couldn’t help but feel a pang of something he couldn’t describe in any other way but grief, as he kept pushing the tip further into the Ishamael’s heart. The blade’s iron melted itself into the One Power, digging a fiery hole into the Forsaken’s chest, and then with a thud the sword’s hilt crashed futile into the ground. Rand felt a scorching sensation sear through his hand, and his eyes widened in astonishment as he looked down to find a heron shaped mark burned into his skin. He tried to make sense of it for a moment, but got distracted. With a painful groan, Ishamael quietly dropped to his knees, his whole body following afterwards, raising a cloud of dust around him. 

The redheaded boy stood over him, still in shock, amidst a silence so profound he was certain he could hear a pin drop.

“Its…” Ishamael mumbled, struggling to breath, “it’s beautiful. Do you see it, Lews?”

Rand shivered at the mention of the name. It felt both distant and unnervingly close, like a step into an abyss from which he could never return. “What do you see?” He asked, eyebrows frowning in confusion. 

“Nothing.” The man whispered, as the hole in his chest turned into ashes, corruption that started to spread throughout his entire body. “Nothing at all,” Ishamael finally said, before his whole being turned into dust, drawn into the turbulent air hitting above the tower. Rand sensed his eyes filled with tears, knowing he’d done the right thing, yet somehow feeling as if he had just lost a dear friend to him. 

He became startled by the sound of bells echoing all over the city, and he raised his head to golden weaves of Power that burned like the fire start encircling the tower, rising to its top, where all of the group stood still almost paralysed in distress. Rand followed the bursts of fire and light, seeking for their source as he made his way towards the edge of the Tower, with Guinevere closely behind. There, they witnessed the bursts of fire coalescing into the unmistakable form of a dragon. Gwen let out a frail gasp, one of her hands covering over her open mouth and the other instinctively reaching for his, clutching it in dread. The flaming dragon rose over them, heated screeches coming out of his fiery mouth, and Rand firmly pulled Guinevere further into his side, encircling her waist with his hand. 

She drew her gaze up towards him in a wavering motion, desperately meeting his eyes, “ ‘ Above the Watchers shall the Dragon be proclaimed… ” Guinevere recited, “ bannered ‘cross the sky in fire .’ This is Moiraine’s doing,” she breathed, eyes glistening with sorrowful tears, as she gently put her hands over her cheeks, tiptoeing so their foreheads could touch, “the world will now think of you as Dragon Reborn, Rand, and she thinks you stand ready for it.” 

The boy stared back at her for a couple of seconds, tightening the grip on her waist, as he looked down, towards the cheering crowds; men and women embracing each other, embracing their children, embracing their friends, smiles drawn across their bloody faces. He drew in a trembling breath. He wasn’t sure he was ready for such a weight to be placed upon his shoulders. 

As if she had read his thoughts, Guinevere gently forced his eyes towards hers back again, as she tenderly caressed his cheeks. “You’re not alone in this,” she affirmed, nodding, biting her lips. 

Rand lowered his gaze, his eyes studying their surroundings, and found the rest of his friends joining them at the edge of the tower, all of them staring in awe at the acclaiming crowds below them, as the dragon’s roars resounded over them, and realised Gwen was right, he wasn’t alone anymore. And that remained his biggest problem.

He needed to prove himself, to prove himself worthy of carrying such a mighty banner, and he couldn’t bring himself to endanger his friends, endanger Guinevere because of it. He realised then he had no choice but to leave his friends, once again.

But he could afford a moment’s waiting. For now, he could appreciate the friends that surrounded him, the trust, love and support he felt from them, for he knew how fleeting such sentiments would be. He rubbed Guinevere’s back, feeling the warmth emanating from the dragon’s breath over her ragged clothes. He felt her skin through the tears of her gown, and couldn’t help but think about the torture Lanfear had put her through, and the lengths she must have gone through in order to reach him, to save him. Rand left a shy, sudden kiss on Guinevere’s forehead. And for an instant, everything felt alright.

*****

Author's note: So this is it, the "final" chapter. I write "final" because there WILL be an epilogue (an 10th chapter) but I will only start writing it once I finish proofreading and HEAVILY editing these past 9 chapters, which could take as much as a month even.

I really hope you've enjoyed the story this far; in the meantime (and risking being greedy), I'd really appreciate it if you could share this story with people you think will enjoy it. As most of you know, I haven't read the books, so I'd love some new insight on how the caracters behave, on the world building, and maybe possibly a beta reader to help me bring all of this together more neatly.

The epilogue will be very out of both show and book canon, and YES, there will be a Moiraine and Guinevere reunion, and a little bit of a Siuan's POV.

To answer another requested question, I WILL continue this story after Season 3 airs, most possibly with a different title, but under the same series.

Once again, I cannot possibly express how much your comments mean to me and how encouraging they are, I really hope you haven't been dissapointed with the turns the story has taken and that you've found it engaging, enough to make you wait for the epilogue ahah.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this and leave kudos and comments, we'll see each other soon I hope!

[beautifultypewriter]

Good day, dearest! How've you been? For the Mystical Magical Saturday may I request Sir Leon, please? 🌸 Thank you so very much!

Hello! I’ve been fine. Thank you so much for sending one in! Side note, I wrote this and then lost half of it and had to redo it and I am so mad. But I hope you like it!

The Prompt: “Take it.”

Humming to yourself, you continued mixing the lemon glaze. It was the last thing you needed to finish for the pastries for Queen Guinevere’s luncheon. She had invited several royal guests from all over and you wanted everything to be perfect for her. Setting the bowl down, you nodded to yourself and grabbed the tray of blueberry pastries and set them next to the glaze, “Don’t even think about it.” There was laughter from the doorway as well as an exaggerated groan. Gwaine, Percival, and Leon stepped into the castle’s kitchen, looking annoyed, delighted, and sheepish respectively. You turned to them with a smirk, “These are not for you.” Without waiting for any kind of response, you turned back and grabbed a spoon.

As you started to drizzle the glaze over each pastry, Gwaine stepped up next to you, “Oh come on, I’m sure you could spare one.” Percival scoffed and Gwaine sighed, “Two.” You chuckled, glancing back to see Percival’s face light up. With a shake of your head, you turned back to the task at hand.

Gwaine had moved quickly, his hands already pulling back from the tray as your attention returned. Your jaw dropped as you spun to face him. He had one pastry in his mouth and two more in his hand. He grinned as best he could as he moved out of range of your outstretched arm. “Gwaine!” You surged forward, but he jumped back before you could catch him. He tossed a pastry to Percival, who grinned, called a quick thanks and then rushed to the door. Gwaine followed behind him as he noticed the rolling pin in your hand. Their laughter echoed down the corridor as you sighed and moved to count the pastries again.

Your eyes met Leon’s as you tossed the rolling pin onto the table and he gave you a small smile, “Apologies for them.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder and you shook your head.

“It’s fine. There are still plenty for the lunch.” You moved the tray to another table, where all the other food you had prepared was laid out, ready to be taken up to the hall.

Leon followed you, “You’ve been quite busy.” His eyes moved over the food, “It looks wonderful. You truly are talented.” He looked over at you and you felt heat creep up the back of your neck.

His gaze stayed on you and you looked away, needing just a moment. Without a second thought, you grabbed a pastry, “You’re too kind,” you held the pastry out to him, “For you, sir.”

Leon chuckled, but he shook his head, “You don’t have to. I know how hard you worked and how much this means to you.”

“Leon.” He hummed and you chuckled, “Take it.” Shaking your hand a bit, you smiled, “I’d be honored if you tried it.”

Leon laughed and gently grabbed the pastry from your outstretched hand, “If you insist.” You watched as Leon took a bite of the pastry, his eyes closing for a brief moment before they were staring into yours again, “Perfect.”

[uenodivision]

Hypnosis Mic Shuffle Team, Vol. 4 (Part 2) (Cont.)

The Power of Justiceマジックパラディン! (Paladin Solo)

7 Wonders of HypMic

Akihisa "Azrael" Mashiro

Maki "Professor Z-3" Umemoto

Shuu "Men-H" Edogawa

Rintaro "Ignis" Himura

Yoichi "Jekyll" Shujo

Ren "Vox" Nakashima

Kaiji "Jinx" Sano

Hypnosis Break (Welcome to Our Realm)

The Fatherless

Kunio "James Moriarty" Chōten

Kokomi "Snegurochka" Morozov

To the Motherf*cker of My Sperm Donner

The Nemesis Council

Tomi "High Class" Chōten - "The Gentleman of Crime"

Reiaki "Black Cat" Suzubayashi - "The Cat"

Nadya "Vipera" Kuromiya - "The Master of Fear"

Iwao "TRIXT4R" Masuda - "The Prince of Puzzles"

Reika "Belladonna" Aichi - "The Green's Chosen Warrior"

Yuno "Kiiro" Kamora - Professor Strange

Tasuku "Katame" Kawanoe - Harvey Dent

Eko "Aoi" Seishin - Basil Karlo

Akihisa "Azrael" Mashiro - "The Fastest Killer Alive"

Max "Ōkami" Soukoku - "The Demon"

Eiji "MC KRATOS" Mizoguchi - Waylon Jones

Ryuko "Mista Z.B." Umemoto - Roman Sionis

Rashaad "Straight Up" Young - "The Man Who Never Missed"

Aoba "Guinevere" Yamamura - Victor Fries

Oki "ATLAS" Teagan - "Lover of Venom"

Rinko "X-Tasy" Kurosaki - Harleen Frances Quinzel

Kanon "Mz. Hyde" Hojo - "The Clown Prince of Crime"

Woe to Gotham

Digital Demons

Reiaki "Black Cat" Suzubayashi

Criss "Paradox" Hiromi

Joey "Joker" Kurusu

Eiji "MC Mogul" Noguchi

Yuriko "Black Dahlia" Kuromiya

Village of Nightmares

Lady Luck's Charm

Yorii "Sireen" Sakuma

Lola "Aphrodite" Takahashi

Makina "Screen Shot" Setsukura

Hoàng "MC Lotus" Diệu

Evelyn "SPIRIT" Rose

Sakura "Renegade" Kito

Kotono "Shiki" Ohara

"Queen Card"

Gambling Freak

Kiya Kara

Ryūzō "Kage" Mizutori

Kotono "Shiki" Ohara

Takumi "GUTS" Wakaba

The Sannin

The OP League

Tetsuya "FЯE4K" Yashiro - "The Son of Sparda"

Ryūzō "Kage" Mizutori - "Jack the Ripper"

Seiji "Avenger" Tsukimoto - John-117

Oki "ATLAS" Teagan - Doom Slayer

Aika "VeeXn" Yumi - "The Umbra Witch"

Shian "Ready or Not" Meizono - "The Guardian of the Galaxy"

Kaiji "Jinx" Sano - "The One-Winged Angel"

Aoi "Blue Wolf" Yamamura - "God of Wrath"

Ryuko "Mista Z.B." Umemoto - "The Raging Demon"

Ted "Teddy" Bridges - "The God of War"

Zakari "Icarus" Hiroya - "The Champion of the Jötnar"

Why We Can't Be Beat

HypMic's Best Friends

Tasuku "Katame" Kawanoe

Shisuta "The Saint" Heisha

Sayaka "Rhopalocera" Miyuki

Maki "Professor Z-3" Umemoto

Ririko "2Cute" Akihara

Eden "Ember" Yamamura

Saigo "Tsukumogami" Fuyugami

Anika "Rush Hour" Kiyozaki

Kensaku "Dr. K Tone" Morimoto

Itsuki "Tsuki" Kamiko

Everything is Connected

Hikikomori Hip-Hop Clan

Aoi "Blue Wolf" Yamamura

Ryūnosuke "Fist N Fury" Sekiguchi

Zakari "Icarus" Hiroya

Joey "Joker" Kurusu

Yano "Y-STARR" Ietsuna

Ace "MC Patriot" Douglas

Tasuku "Katame" Kawanoe

Makina "Screen Shot" Setsukura

Yuuya "ARROW" Kanata

Eko "Aoi" Seishin

Eiji "MC KRATOS" Mizoguchi

Kaoru "Arachne" Shinozaki

Eiji "MC Mogul" Noguchi

Yorii "Sireen" Sakuma

Tetsuya "FЯE4K" Yashiro

Lyall "Corvus" Shiba

The Book of Otakus

@obihiro-division @katsushika-division @suginami-division @sapporo-division @kobedivision

@kumamoto-division @hakodate-division @minato-division03 @minato-division01 @shizuokadivision

@fukuokadivision1 @naradivision @aichi-division @okinawa-division @ginza-division

@adachi-division @akihabaradivision @kanazawa-division @edogawa-division @setagaya-division

@saitama-division @akihabara-division03 @sendaidivision @kagoshima-division @niigata-division

@aomori-division @nakanodivision @toyama-division @kyoto-division @fukuokanodivision