#he gives up on uther and decides to just be arthur’s support | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

akampana · 3 years

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Can I request diarturia in 6 please 🥺🥺👉👈

6. “I just need to lie down.” Diarturia.

Hi! :D Thank you for the ask! Always glad to do some Diarturia!

Words: 10,031 (lmao, this went places)

I wanted to incorporate some fae shenanigans as well as explore Diarmuid's demigod side as the son of the god of the dead, so this is a little different take on the characters from what I usually do. Regardless, hope you enjoy!

AO3 link here because this thing is long.

Arturia stumbled through the trees in panic, thorns ripping through the thin linen of her dress like knives through paper. Everywhere she looked it was the same: jagged branches whipping her from every angle, roots latching on to her feet like venomous snakes, and worst of all, the noose-like vines that stole the air from her lungs at every opportunity.

The girl suddenly recoiled, yanked to the ground by the cursed greenery that wrapped around her throat. Her desperate fingers looped around the offensive twine, tearing at the woody growth and her own skin, but it only seemed to wrap around tighter the more she fought. Soon she was face-first on the grass. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as her lips turned as blue as the sky.

No!

She scrambled for something, anything to get her some air. Her fingers dug through the dirt, grabbing onto sticks, cutting her nails on pebbles and root. But, it seemed the Earth itself had decided to wage war on one, green-eyed, blonde, spawn of Uther. The sacrifice. The extra.

Her vision began to fill with black stars. Her lungs screamed for the air her mouth could not provide. She could do nothing as the creatures that hunted her came upon the clearing she’d fallen into, nothing but claw at her neck for one last, sweet breath.

As her consciousness began to fade, she wondered what she’d done to deserve such a fate. She’d lived her life according to her father’s wishes. She learned from her tutors. She kept silent and out of the limelight. She supported her brother the best way she could. Was that not enough?

If only she knew it was no fault of hers that she ended up here.

Merlin’s intercession to produce an appropriate heir had failed, birthing a tiny girl instead of what the king wished for. In Uther’s desperate attempt to save Britain, the ailing, anxious King of Camelot turned to the fae. He pleaded with them, promising this, and that, everything as long as his country would not meet its end at the prophesized red dragon’s claws.

The mischievous, conniving fae gave Uther a son to raise along with his shunned daughter, knowing even then who was the superior heir. They even mirrored the poor baby’s features, such that Igraine’s womb produced “twins”. Oh, how perfectly the fae copied the incubus’s creation, everything save for its little flaws, all so Uther could damn a different child to the same tragic fate.

Satisfied with his prize, the King tried to make payment. But the fae were not interested in being showered with riches. They needed no fruit of the field when the Otherworld was abundant in goods. No, what they wanted was Merlin’s lovely little experiment, and all the energy that philandering wizard fused into that tiny girl.

But not yet.

The fae would claim their payment when she was ripe for the picking, delicious, still young, of course, but not too aged that she’d taste more like mutton than lamb. Just grown enough such that her little dragon-like core would give the fae the kick they needed when they sank their teeth into her soft, supple skin.

After all, eighteen human years was not too long a wait.

“Are you not happy, my lady?”

Arturia turned around to meet the eyes of one much taller, much stronger, much more beautiful than her. She tried not to flinch too much, lest the nobles say her gown was disheveled or that she’d shifted her carefully done-up braids once again.

“Diarmuid, you...you gave me a fright.”

Arturia glanced behind her personal knight, off to the festival taking place in the main hall. The party was more Arthur’s than it was hers, because it was his coronation as prince occurring on the morrow. In a way, she was grateful for it, for at least once in her life there weren’t fifteen or so suitors asking for her hand. For better access to Camelot’s resources, of course. Arturia wasn’t stupid enough to believe they were honestly attracted to her.

None of them knew her, not really. What could they learn when all they heard from her were the manners beaten into her head by the tutors Uther hired to make her desirable to the male gaze? None of them knew her actual interests. None of them cared. Although, she did suppose feelings didn’t quite factor into marriages as much as Merlin tried to make her believe they did.

Arturia sighed, turning back to the night view of Camelot that had her so preoccupied and the forest that lay just outside the limits. One day, maybe even tomorrow, one of the men conversing with Arthur was going to take her away and she would go with him as her duty dictated. She’d make sure her husband’s kingdom remained Camelot’s ally, of course. Then bear her spouse an heir. That was her duty as one with the Pendragon blood, one she was ready to carry out.

“I do not believe you have answered me, princess,” Diarmuid chuckled, draping the finest of silks over her bare shoulders before the night air could chill her skin.

Arturia thumbed the soft fabric, bringing before her eyes the sheer, almost glowing cloth. The garment was an iridescent white, shining in colors not unlike the rainbow patterns on a beetle’s shell. Although it felt lighter than air,her shivers disappeared instantly, as if her knight had just embraced her from behind to share his heat.

The woman’s eyes lit up with wonder, seeing the skillful repeated pattern traveling all-throughout the hem. There were more than a few druidic symbols embroidered throughout, each sewn in a thread that harmonized with the cloth enough that from a distance it was just a simple shawl. She recognized all of them: knots, trees...symbols that were important to those who were born on Erin. Diarmuid had introduced them to her before.

“What is this?” she asked him, tone lifted as she faced the friend that stood beside her, looking out into the distance.

“A gift,” answered the gentle knight, surveying his surroundings before scooping up Arturia’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Although today’s festivities have made the town believe otherwise, the actual day of your birth comes tomorrow, does it not?”

He remembered. Arturia kissed her teeth, a smile slowly breaking through her rather serious facade.

“Although it is quite early, I thought it best to deliver this simple celebratory offering before your handmaids spend hours dressing you for Arthur’s coronation in the morning,” he explained, gently pulling the lady he served closer to himself.

“I am happy now,” she answered him, emphasizing the final word such that he knew he was the cause. “This is far from just a simple gift, my knight. I do not know how to repay you, as it seems you’ve forgotten the most important fact about tomorrow.”

The corners of his amber eyes crinkled as he laughed. “I assure you, it has not escaped my notice, Lady Arturia.”

That was the other reason Diarmuid had pulled out all the stops for this gift. It was true that tomorrow, the twins would be of marriageable age, but tomorrow was also the anniversary of the moment they first met.

Lady Arturia was not aware this was his second life. After his death to the tusks of a boar and his former king’s neglect, his godly father had permitted him back to the world of the living to seek a better fate. A happier one, where he could live out the life of service he desired before returning to Tech Duinn. Donn sent his son off with his blessing, even teasing him to bring back a proper spouse.

It was not the kings of his homeland he could serve, however, for his face would surely be recognizable in the countenances of his descendants. Instead, the Irish knight came to Camelot, seeking out a lord who was kind and just: The Once and Future King, as so prophesied by his kind.

It was then he’d first met Lady Arturia, by a cabin in the woods. He’d come running, excited by the familiar clang of swords, only to find two of the same face sparring in the backyard. One was strong and tall, the other small but lithe. He could tell at a glance that the two had the same foundation, for their strikes and stances were similar, but clearly, each had adapted their swordplay to their strengths.

Diarmuid had never seen such an agile style as that of the tiny one—squire, perhaps? Or knight?—which was so clearly made to make up for her disadvantage in size. Neither had he seen a man wield his sword so impossibly gracefully.

So mesmerized was he with their exchange, that he only noticed the two swords at his throat when the shorter blonde had demanded his name. He knelt at once.

“My name is Diarmuid ua Duibhne, First Spear of...nay, I am but a simple knight, come to Camelot seeking a valiant king to serve. My deepest apologies for the interruption, fellow knights, I was merely...entranced,” he trailed off, locking gazes with the lady, who listened to him so intently.

“Ah, then you’ve quite found yourself in a favorable position,” hummed a third stranger, a white-haired man from the trees. Diarmuid smelt magic on the newcomer, the blood of one that was not quite human, just like himself. “Arthur here is the Prince of Camelot, and a knight much like yourself.”

Face flushed, the Irish knight bowed his head again, “My deepest apologies, I was not aware I was speaking to one of an even higher position. But my mission still stands. Prince Arthur, if you shall have me, I wish to serve your court, and milady...”

“Princess Arturia, my sister,” Arthur furnished for him, asking the knight to stand. “We’ll have my father decide what to do with you, Diarmuid ua Duibhne. I imagine he’d want to test your mettle—”

“Not before I do,” the Lady Arturia spoke, smiling down at him with the sun igniting her gem-like eyes.

Diarmuid still remembered every detail of that fight. She moved like a leaf dancing in the breeze, dodging between each and every blow from his swords with graceful ease. He was quicker than her, still, but the princess’s movements were clearly just as calculated as his were. It was her wit that drove her to make anticipated swings, catching him off guard every so often.

But she was not as seasoned a warrior as he was. Her arms were thin. Her hands were blistered, not callused. Although she fought like one who’d witnessed many battles, it was clear to him that she’d been a literal witness to those matches rather than a participant.

She wasn’t a knight. Not like her brother. But Diarmuid could honestly say her first dance with him was one of the most memorable.

Arthur endorsed Diarmuid to his father that very afternoon. Although Uther was impressed with his skill, that Diarmuid came from lands Camelot was once at war with stayed the king’s hand. Although the knight offered unwavering loyalty, he could not quite trust Diarmuid at the level he did the rest of the Round Table. Yet, it was quite a waste to refuse a man so talented with sword and spear.

That’s when Arturia entered the throne room. She was dressed not in the simple linen she’d been wearing in when he met her, but in a luxurious gown of deep red. Diarmuid had to stop his eyes from following the path she walked, fearing the king would find his admiration offensive. He’d found her beautiful when they exchanged blows, sweat dripping down her brow and a competitive smirk upon her lips, but it seemed even in such restrictive attire as this dress she looked divine.

Witnessing Diarmuid’s obvious attraction to that...thing Merlin made, Uther had his answer. There was one way to keep the man from the green isle in his service but also at a safe enough distance.

Diarmuid was knighted under Camelot and given to the child he scorned. She could do Camelot one more duty: groom and tame the Irishman till he was a loyal lapdog to the flag of Britain.

As the years passed, Uther saw her do just that, without his instruction.

The Irishman fought valiantly, leading Camelot into victory after victory before running back to his lady to claim her praise. Although all the knights came to respect Sir Diarmuid, he never asked for a seat at the Round Table, much to Uther’s relief. The fool was satisfied being the princess’s escort, following her through the various activities required of a soon-to-be queen and taking her riding in the afternoons.

His manipulation had been more effective than he realized. Diarmuid’s love for the daughter he detested would keep the knight in Camelot’s service. Perhaps even after the fae came to collect what they were owed.

But neither Arturia nor Diarmuid were privy to the king’s conniving thoughts. The knight had gotten what he wanted: a life of service, and one to a maiden he was most fond of. Meanwhile, Arturia finally found herself a loyal friend, who took her sparring when the palace thought she was merely riding into the forest, who gave her a break from her duties at the castle.

“It has been three years, has it not?” Arturia asked her knight, fondly squeezing his calloused hand. “And you’ve given me such a lovely gift. Please, ask anything of me, and I shall furnish it for you.”

The knight smiled, hoping the night would shroud the heat across his face in the darkness.

“Anything, my lady? That is quite the dangerous word.”

“Anything, Diarmuid.”

Steeling his resolve with a subtle gulp, Diarmuid whispered his request.

“A kiss,” he answered, reveling in the blush that spread throughout her cheeks. “One for every year I have served.”

Seconds of silence passed between them as their heartstrings intertwined.

Arturia’s hands cupped his face, her large green eyes glowing as she stared into his. He wondered if the princess could feel his heartbeat where she touched his skin; if she knew what such a quickened pulse implied.

“Are you certain that is all you desire?” his lady asked him, her voice so quiet it could be carried away by the breeze.

“I am,” he confirmed, knowing well he was playing with fire. He knew Arturia held love for him. Not quite the way he wanted, for that was forbidden by her duty, but that she’d come to care for him was irrefutable. There was a bond between them now, strong enough to last throughout their lifetimes. Maybe even universes.

“Then…” Arturia trailed off, slowly pulling him down to her height while she tiptoed to reach him.

Her soft lips pressed against his cheek, giving him a kiss so tender and lasting Diarmuid closed his eyes to properly remember the sensation. Then, she pulled him even closer, blessing his forehead with the same gift as gently as a mother would. She pulled back for a breath as his hands hovered over her waist, not quite touching her, but keeping her within his space nonetheless. He felt her lean in once again, her warm breath on his cheek, but she hesitated before she could make the contact.

Fear gripped his heart at the thought he’d asked too much of her, but before he could open his eyes, he felt her lips on his.

She tasted like honey, sweet and addicting as her soft mouth touched his. He felt his heart soar, felt his blush spread to his ears, but he couldn’t care less his love for her was on full display. He’d dreamt of this too many times before, a fantasy that couldn’t come to be, but one he desperately longed for anyway.

It was over too soon, for she shyly pulled away. For the first time in ages, they could not hold each other’s gaze, each too flustered by what had just transpired.

“Milady, I—”

“Princess.”

Both of them jumped at the familiar voice. It was Merlin, looking uncharacteristically grim as he approached Arturia with an open hand.

“Your father wishes to see you in the east hall,” the magus informed them.

Arturia didn’t take Merlin’s offer to escort her, excusing herself from the two men with one last meaningful look in Diarmuid’s direction. Her knight watched her until her dress disappeared beyond the large double doors, longing to be by her side even if she’d only just left his presence.

“You saw?” he asked Merlin, ready to throw himself into the fire and take the blame if ever Arturia’s actions were questioned.

“What’s this? Do you think me so loyal to Uther I’d report a simple kiss? Nay. I shan’t give my princess more trouble than she already has on her plate.”

The incubus’s latter statement seemed questionable, since the wizard had been responsible for most of the shenanigans that got both twins in trouble way back when, but he digressed.

“But I do have a question for you, Sir Diarmuid ua Duibhne,” the wizard drawled, tossing magelight between his hands absentmindedly. “Do you consider yourself loyal to Camelot?”

Flabbergasted, the knight blubbered out his response. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Merlin gave him a smile that seemed rather melancholy. “And if Camelot betrays her, would you still give the same response?”

“That’s a silly question. Betray milady? For what reason? You know as well as I do she’s played the part of a perfect princess all her life. I can’t think of any man in that courtyard who would hesitate to ask her to wed.”

Including...myself. He finished in his mind.

Merlin watched his expression silently, as if the magus could discern his true thoughts on the matter.

“You didn’t answer my question, First Spear of the Fianna. Aren’t I the wily trickster between us, hm? Why answer me with flowery words?”

A beat.

Diarmuid nearly choked on his spit as questions popped up in his mind. He’d never told anyone of his rather troubled past, not even Arturia, who he held closer than anyone. Had Merlin known about his true identity this whole time? Did the wizard guess this was his second life? How much did he understand about his past? Was he sure of it even when they first met all those years ago?

Purple irises stared straight through to his soul, doing nothing to calm the raging turmoil within. “Given your history, I believed you would feel more strongly for this. Perhaps...for once, I was wrong.”

A burst of pink and white flowers, and the wizard was gone, leaving Diarmuid to figure out what he meant all by himself.

Tomorrow was the big day. Finally, Uther could be rid of Merlin’s little mistake. Without his older daughter in the way, there wasn’t anyone else to his knowledge that could lay claim to the throne. Especially now that he knew that accursed girl wouldn’t be spawning any kids of her own. The Fae only seemed intent on consuming her, whatever the hell that meant.

Uther uncovered the small package the creatures left with him nearly two decades ago, revealing a small golden apple which hadn’t rotten for as long as he’d had it.

“Father, you called for me?” came Arturia’s voice through the door. She came in, looking surprisingly beautiful in her white dress.

“I know I have been distant from you, dear daughter,” the king said, approaching Merlin’s creation with a tacked-on smile. “But I thought it best to watch your growth from a distance. And my, have you grown.”

“I owe it all to you, father,” she answered mechanically, keeping her gaze down. Uther tried not to let his distaste for her show. He needed to execute this perfectly, after all.

“Your hands, child.”

Obediently, the princess held out two open palms, to which the king placed the golden fruit. Even in her hands, the shiny thing looked so small. No more than two or three bites, surely.

“Do not tell your brother of this, there is only the one,” her father said as the princess’s heart swelled. “He will receive his own gift tomorrow, not to worry.”

“Thank you, father.”

Arturia cupped the small fruit like it was the most precious of jewels. It was beautiful, a perfect replica of a normal apple save for its smaller size and metallic skin. She took it between her thumb and pointer finger, turning it in the light. Despite how it looked however, it felt soft and fresh, like it had just been plucked from a tree.

“Go on then,” Uther urged, a bead of sweat falling from his brow. “I hear it's quite delicious.”

Arturia did as she was told, sinking her teeth into the fruit as she covered her mouth with her free hand.

Her eyes went wide as the flavor danced inside her mouth. She’d never tasted such perfection. Sweet but not saccharine. Sour but not unpleasant. The apple was as crisp as it was juicy, its delectable syrup embracing her tongue like a tender lover. She’d never eaten anything like it. There couldn’t have been any food on earth quite as good, it almost seemed otherworldly—

Arturia snapped back to attention, suddenly remembering she’d scarfed down a whole apple in front of her father. She straightened her skirt, wiped her hands on her kerchief, berated herself for looking so crude. She tried not to meet her father’s eyes knowing he’d be disappointed, but…

For the first time in her life, Uther Pendragon was smiling at her, looking as relieved as an accused man cleared of guilt.

“F-father?” the woman stuttered, her eyebrows crossing in worry. She was so unused to him being this kind.

“Enjoy the rest of your celebration with your brother, girl,” Uther laughed, sending her off, “You never know when you can enjoy such a feast again.”

His laughs continued even after the doors to the east hall shut behind her, leaving Arturia to wonder what had lightened his mood so much.

The latter half of the evening saw Diarmuid watching Arturia from the other side of the hall, kicking Gawain’s shins under the table whenever the blonde knight was being too loud. The man was on his eleventh tankard of ale and counting, and boy, could he talk.

“If I were as handsome as you, Deeeeeer, I might have had some luck with the ladies around, hm? Why do you have to steal them all? Hmmm??? Couldn’t leave some for poor Gawain?” his friend slurred, swaying back and forth like some cursed gigantic pendulum.

“Sir Gawain, even if he had the face of a donkey, and the hair of a rat’s ass, and the body of a cow—” Tristan wisely cut himself off when he felt Diar’s glare, “You’d have the same luck, sadly.”

“Thank you!” Gawain loudly exclaimed, Tristan’s beration flying leagues over his head. He thumped the poor redhead on the back, and before long, the table before them was some cursed mix of ale and moist food.

At that, Diarmuid let a few chuckles loose. One would think someone as large and broad-shouldered as Gawain could hold his drink, and he could, just not as well as everyone else did.

“You have been quite silent,” voiced the knight that sat beside him. Sir Bedivere was on the quieter end of the spectrum, which Diarmuid did appreciate. “Did something happen?”

Bedivere tilted his head to the right as he spoke, almost like a confused puppy. Words bubbled to Diarmuid’s lips at once, for Bedi was a knight he quite trusted, but he hesitated on account of the subject matter.

Merlin’s cryptic words had haunted him all throughout the evening. He didn’t know what the old wizard meant by them, but now he couldn’t shake the feeling that the princess was in danger. Sadly, his feelings of protectiveness overshadowed the ridiculous amounts of joy he felt knowing the taste of her lips.

Diarmuid felt the heat rush to his ears.

Scratch that. Clearly his affection for her was a little stronger. A lot stronger.

“Nothing important,” he mumbled, realizing he’d been silent for too long. Luckily, it seemed Bedivere would not push the subject any longer. If only his next question wasn’t so damning.

“Do you suppose Lady Arturia’s future husband is amongst the crowd?”

Diarmuid’s honey gaze landed on his lady, who stood surrounded by four men from different kingdoms, yet seemed to be holding her ground. Of them were two brothers with midnight hair and red eyes, a rich king from a distant land across the sea, and another whom neither he nor the knights seemed to recognize. Diarmuid could immediately tell only one of them was truly interested in Arturia, for he was the only one whose gaze never traveled down from her face.

“Perhaps,” the Irishman mumbled, his voice lost in the chaos Tristan and Gawain had just gotten into. Apparently the latter had just said something to the effect of older women not being all that great. But he couldn’t care less about their debate. Because Arturia was starting to look pale.

Before Bedivere could ask what was going on, Diarmuid made a beeline for his lady, reaching her side quickly enough that he could take the goblet from her hands before she could drop it.

“Milady, I believe it may be time to excuse yourself. It has been quite the taxing day,” Diarmuid mumbled just loudly enough for the royals to hear. He gave them each a bow for courtesy, maintaining a calm facade so as not to alarm the other guests.

Arturia’s hands clamped onto his elbow. She was clearly humiliated at the situation, but knew Diarmuid had just given her an out. She would be a fool to deny it. Especially when the room was beginning to spin.

“I’m afraid my knight is quite correct,” she managed, her eyes beginning to defocus. Despite the vertigo slowly dragging her into unconsciousness, she managed to speak each and every man’s name before giving them a polite curtsy and allowing Diarmuid to escort her out of the party.

And as the double doors thudded closed, Arturia finally allowed her knees to buckle. Diarmuid was there to catch her, holding his most precious person before she could hit the floor.

“My lady?!” Diarmuid’s voice came in a panicked whisper. She wasn’t like this before they separated earlier tonight. Had something happened since her father called for her?

Tender fingers cupped her cheek, turning the small woman’s face to him. Her skin was cold and colorless, nearly the same hue as her gown. In the moonlight that filtered through the window she was almost ghostly.

“Should I call for Merlin?” Diarmuid asked softly, moving away the bangs that obstructed her face. Her eyes were jaded, barely able to meet his, but she shook her head.

“No. No, I just...I just need to lie down. If you would please...” she said between breaths, but she didn’t need to finish her sentence for her closest friend to understand.

Diarmuid looped his arms under her legs and back, lifting her with ease. He tried not to think about how natural it felt to hold her, to feel her lean her head to his chest, but it was getting difficult. He should just admit it to himself already.

Diarmuid loved her. He might have loved her since the day they met.

How horribly ironic. In his first life, he was forced to abandon the life of service he loved to run away with his king’s would-be queen. Now it was his love that he was forced to abandon, to continue the life of service he’d been resurrected for. At least this time, the woman involved was not betrothed, not yet. He had a little more time to pretend.

Besides, she kissed him. He could live on happily knowing that at one point in his new life, his feelings were returned. He’d be satisfied, right?

Right?

Arturia passed out before they even got to her quarters, trusting him with her safety even while asleep. As he touched his forehead to hers, Diarmuid realized his answer.

Of course not.

When she was beneath her covers, the man knelt next to her bed, caught between waiting at her bedside for her to wake or finding Merlin to report the incident. Arturia may not have endured the same physical training that he and the other knights regularly put themselves through, but he’s sparred with her enough in secret to know she was no weak woman.

He should go. Perhaps she’d taken something from the buffet that had made her feel sick. He ought to find the wizard so they could test the food and wine. He knew she didn’t see the need for a healer, but he should probably alert the palace alchemist just in case.

Halfway out the door, he stopped, his heart aching as he remembered the crowd of people Arturia had been entertaining just before the incident. One of the bluish-haired brothers, the quieter one. He was going to ask for Arturia’s hand, Diarmuid could feel it.

The knight turned around and dipped down to steal one last kiss on her forehead, thanking her for indulging him earlier that night. He brushed her hair from her face, smiled, then left the room.

As he walked back toward the main hall, however, something kept nagging on the back of his mind. Was she...wearing a different scent? She smelled sweet, but...too sweet, like the white apple blossoms in the land of the fae.

Diarmuid shook his head. Impossible. Fair folk were less common in this day and age, and the Pendragons were quite human, unlike himself. How could she have come across something like that?

Arturia opened her eyes to the dawn.

The...dawn?

The woman sat up like a flipped lever, wrapping her shawl tighter around herself. The dark walls of her bedroom were glaringly absent, and so were her sheets.

That...that couldn’t be right.

Grass tickled her bare feet as she scrambled to get her bearings, but there were no landmarks to tell her where she was. The rolling plains to the east were missing and so was the mountain to the north. The stars that remained in the heavens could not guide her way. There were too many glittering lights. More than she remembered the night sky ever having. As her lungs heaved, she tasted salt in the breeze, when there shouldn’t have been. Whipping her head to the east, she saw the sea in the distance, but she didn’t recognize the shore.

Wherever she was now, Camelot was far, far out of reach.

Arturia gulped down her fear as Merlin had taught her to do, calming herself to give room for rational thought. She should start from what she remembered. Retrace her steps. Yes.

Father had given her a gift, and then when she returned to the celebration, Arthur introduced her to some of his friends: her possible suitors. It couldn’t have been the wine, she refused to have some, but she remembered feeling lightheaded, then Diarmuid took her to her room—Diarmuid!

His name left her lips, but it was quickly drowned out by the sounds of rustling of leaves too thick to have been from the forests near Camelot.

“Diarmuid!”

That wasn’t her. Goosebumps peppered her skin as Arturia whipped her head around to face the echo. Then she came face to face with someone who looked familiar. Too familiar.

It was herself, copied right down to the smallest of details. Twenty-two freckles across her nose. A scar that ran from her palm to her wrist. One stubborn lock of hair sticking out from the rest. When Arturia breathed it did too, when she blinked it followed suit. It even made a mockery of her distress, mirroring her quivering lip as she stepped back.

“That is not your name, Arturia Pendragon,” the two figures spoke in unison, only one of them horrified. “Your father traded you off a long time ago.”

Arturia nearly screamed when her body moved on its own, reaching behind her back the same way her “reflection” did. She was a puppet to “her” strings, twisting awkwardly in manners no normal human would. But less damning was her sudden loss of control than what her “reflection” said in that too-nasal gravelly voice.

“What...do...you...mean?” Arturia managed to word, forcing her clone to do the same.

It didn’t seem to mind, and used her fingers to grasp the fruit of a nearby berry bush. She didn’t recognize the red berries her hand pressed to her lips. Arturia willed her mouth shut, warring with the invisible force that pried it open.

“Open up, poppet.”

Arturia blinked, suddenly finding herself surrounded by the most beautiful people she had ever seen. Their faces contained no flaw, no imperfection. Their hair was long, braided with flowers and the colorful leaves of the forest. In comparison, her “reflection” seemed so ugly as it pulled its jaw open with its free hand.

One of the handsome creatures stole the berries from her grasp, placed them within her mouth, and pulled her hair back till she swallowed.

Suddenly her limbs felt loose, and she was on the ground once again, staring up at fifteen perfectly symmetrical faces. So lovely they looked. Too lovely to be human.

Oh.

Arturia’s eyes widened as all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Her surroundings, the creature’s ability to control her once they had her name, the too-perfect bodies that circled her.

She was in the domain of the fae.

Arturia’s hand went to her lips, the delicious fruit’s flavor still clinging to her tongue. They’d forced her to eat their food. Which meant…

For her, there was no going back.

“I’d start running, Spawn of Uther.”

“Father, my sister is missing, we cannot hold the coronation today. All of Camelot knows you’ve selected me for the throne. What harm shall there be in a delay?!” Arthur’s muffled voice came through the door. Never had anyone heard the prince so agitated, and so his alarm put everyone on edge.

Especially the resurrected former First Knight of Fianna, who was trying not to tremble as he held his head in his hands. He’d just lost his charge. Right under his nose, she’d been taken from the castle, with the perpetrator leaving no footsteps, no sign of struggle. Arturia must have never woken. She would have put up a fight.

A loud slap echoed throughout the corridor, making even the sturdiest of knights flinch.

“You will be crown prince, Arthur! That is what the King declares and that is what you shall obey,” Uther’s voice came through the door.

The rows of knights averted their eyes, bearing no witness to the fresh cut on Arthur’s cheek. Outside the castle, the common folk carried on with their preparations, unaware their generous princess would not be around to enjoy the ceremony.

Later, the King would announce to her admirers that the princess was unwell, and the world would be none the wiser. Later, Uther would insist the celebration carry on into the night time. Later, he’d send all the guests home without his daughter bidding them farewell.

By the ‘morrow, the king was still giving the same excuses, the Crown Prince Arthur standing stifled by his side. There were more bruises on the young prince than there were the night prior. When Diarmuid locked eyes with the man that had introduced him to Camelot, they knew Uther hadn’t the intention to find her at all. He wouldn’t spare a single cent on her search, much less a knight.

Merlin’s query from the other night seemed all the more damning.

And if Camelot betrays her, would you still give the same response?

Arthur held Diarmuid’s gaze and made a subtle nod, like he knew of the choice the Irishman was going to make. In fact, the prince even looked proud.

Every piece of armor, every cape, every medal he was lauded, Diarmuid dropped onto the Round Table like rubbish. He’d come to Camelot seeking an honorable king to serve, but alas, it seemed he came too early.

It hurt his heart to abandon his wish a second time, even if this instance, it was his choice. However, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving the princess lost, either.

What a terrible twist of fate.

Diarmuid spun on his heel, his face so contorted in disgust that even the maidens whose hearts he’d swayed looked on him with fear. Perhaps he was cursed to serve horrible people, those that knew nothing of love and loyalty.

Just as the double doors of the hall closed behind him, the king uttered words Diarmuid was not meant to hear. But the former Fenian knight had been a hunter his whole life, and such whispers would not escape his notice.

“Fool. Do you love that failure of a creature so dearly, you’d take it back from the fae?”

The knight’s heart sank into the abyss faster than a rock dropped into the sea.

The events of the other evening finally made sense. Uther had given her fruit from the Otherworld when he summoned her to the East Hall, that was why her breath smelled far too sweet when he’d taken her to bed. He now understood Arturia’s sudden sickness while at the party. Humans couldn’t stomach such magical food when given it for the first time.

Fae food had another quality. When eaten in the human realm, it made the consumer a target, far easier for the fair folk to whisk away into faerie lands, especially during dusk or dawn. That is how she’d been taken without leaving a trace. But when eaten in the Otherworld…

“Father,” Diarmuid called, marching down the halls of the castle. Black smoke rose wherever the man’s feet touched, leaving the floor singed in his path. Soon Diarmuid’s simple green garbs were replaced by expensive silk, his roughly pulled back hair graced with a circlet of gold. Servants and knights alike parted like the sea, fearful of the gentle Irish knight. For the first time his welcoming honey eyes looked like those of a wolf’s, alight with the rage of a hunter.

Camelot’s walls dissolved before Diarmuid’s eyes, stone blocks contorting into green grass and large trees. Soon his steps no longer echoed along castle halls, but burned through thick vegetation. The demigod spared one look at the sky to find it dotted with too many stars and knew he’d crossed to the domain of everlasting youth and abundance. His father had eased his passage.

Meanwhile, Merlin smiled as Arthur delivered the news of Diarmuid’s magical disappearance.

Arturia was fading fast.

She could no longer feel her bloodied fingers, nor the scratches all over her feet. She’d run so far to no avail, there was no escaping the land of the Fae. Still, the princess could not accept going to her death without a fight. If she were to lose her life, a warrior’s death seemed more honorable than the alternative.

Still, her death meant she could no longer follow the path her father set her down. She wouldn’t be queen, wouldn’t be the catalyst for a lasting alliance, wouldn’t bear a son for whatever prince or king Uther would assign. Arthur’s future reign would be robbed of a loyal ally. She regretted that much.

Then there was Diarmuid. Her one true friend, who knew her better than anyone, even Arthur. The last three years of her life were the brightest, for he filled them with happiness. He indulged her love for swordfighting, risking punishment to take her out to spar. Although he stayed by her side, he never made her feel like she was made of glass like her tutors tended to do.

They were duty-bound, they knew that, but they grew close anyway. Arturia was sure she loved Diarmuid the way that he loved her. She didn’t know when or how, but...she did. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to steal one final kiss before her duty took her away.

The tears that brimmed beneath her eyelids finally fell.

If on her deathbed, she could be selfish, she wished for the chance to tell him how she felt.

Alas, it seemed her breath had finally run out.

Arturia's eyes snapped open as fresh air entered her lungs. A warm hand pulled her up out of her grassy grave and into a familiar embrace, holding her as she hacked and coughed. A quick grasp for the necklace of vines at her collarbones revealed nothing but crumbling ash, like the offensive plant had spontaneously combusted.

"Forgive my tardiness, my lady."

Dazed eyes crawled up to the face of her savior, his name on her lips, but found a sight known and unknown to her at the same time. It was her knight’s face, undoubtedly, with the same droopy eyes and handsome features, yet there were parts of him that had been replaced. His orange irises now glowed like embers against the coal of his sclera, a quality decidedly inhuman.

“D..iar?” she croaked, reaching up to touch his ear, now knife-shaped at the end when it wasn’t before. He responded to her at once, resting his face in her palm to quell her fears. She must have been so confused to see him in this form. He’d never worn it in Camelot, after all.

With the little strength she had left, she returned his embrace, tucking herself into the crook of his neck without a second thought. She had so many questions, beginning with why he left a trail of death in his footsteps from whence he came, but all that could wait. Her knight was here.

“You have suffered in my absence, and for that I apologize,” the man said, regretfully seeing the red stain of a berry at her lip.

He was too late. Arturia belonged to the Otherworld now. Likely, the ones that had taken her forced the fruit down her throat to eliminate any chance of escape. Oh, and of course, to further weaken the human who wasn’t yet used to consuming magic-riddled food. If he had to guess, the mischievous fair folk were hunting their latest catch for sport. That would explain how she was still alive.

“Do you know why they took you, milady?” he asked, his watchful eyes scanning his surroundings for the ones that pursued her. They can’t have been far behind.

Arturia shook her head, leaning on his chest. “All they told me...is that my father...traded me to them. By the way they spoke...it seems it has been a long time since then. They...know my name.” she said in between heavy breaths.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to live in mystery much longer. The fair folk had finally decided to show themselves.

“That belongs to us, Son of Donn.” fifteen salivating mouths spoke in unison. The roots around them creaked as the trees behind them sprouted legs and walked. No wonder Arturia looked like she’d been pushed through several thorny bushes. The forest sided with its inhabitants.

That complicated things quite a bit. Even Diarmuid would rather not challenge an army of trees and fae. There was only so much he could do with Donn’s blessing. He’d rather not leave this entire area dead.

“On what grounds?” queried the demigod.

At his words, the small circle of death that surrounded the pair spread its reach, slowly sapping the life from every plant and animal within it. Even the more arrogant of the Fae knew better than to step within the territory of the god of death’s son, snarling and hissing as they backed away.

“King Uther’s payment for furnishing his barren wife a boy.”

Diarmuid’s hold on Arturia’s body only tightened. Payment? Was that damned king so heartless he saw such little value in his own child that he used her to purchase another? Around them, the grass began to decay, as if the knight’s growing anger scared the life out of the greenery.

The man cursed under his breath. Fair folk were unable to lie. The fae hadn’t been malicious in their capture of Arturia at all. They were simply taking what they were owed, no matter how twisted it felt to be dealing in human lives. Then again, fae didn’t quite view humans as equals. In their eyes, man could range from being lovers, to pets, to food. It seemed the latter was what they saw in his princess.

Unlike Diarmuid, whose rage simmered on behalf of his charge, Arturia’s diminished in favor of curiosity. Because if her mother truly was barren, how could she have birthed two? And if Arthur was the doing of the fae, then...who made her?

In a blink, Diarmuid was armed with his red sword and spear, a shrouded Beagalltach dropping on Arturia’s lap for her to use. Truthfully, he’d rather not fight, even if the woman who guarded his back eased his worries a bit. The fair folk were far more wily than common humans, and Arturia, who’d only been sparring against Arthur, Merlin, and himself, would be at a severe disadvantage. Especially when the Fae didn’t always play fair.

The best way out of this was to make Arturia undesirable in their eyes, but how? She had been owed to them since she was a baby. What could possibly ruin her for them—oh.

“Then I’m afraid you’ve been double-crossed, fair folk,” Diarmuid declared confidently. He locked eyes with Arturia meaningfully, giving her a slight nod so she’d play along.

“Double-crossed?” questioned the angered fae folk. Clearly his ruse was already working. “Explain yourself, demigod.”

“Uther has gifted her to me first,” he smirked. Technically, he’d spoken nothing false. Arturia was made his charge the same day he was knighted under Camelot. What was that if not a gift?

Luckily, his princess’s look of surprise was ignored in the Fae’s rage at being scorned. Especially by someone who they’d done such a huge favor.

“You lie!” screamed the beautiful creatures, all of them rushing forward to claim their prize. That couldn’t be true. They waited so long for her to ripen, expending so much energy to make Uther’s wish come true.

“I do not,” the demigod said calmly, pulling Arturia to himself like he’d always wished to do. She must have been so uncomfortable wrapped in a situation she could not control. He hoped she didn’t mind his actions too much. “She wears my token.”

That was the first time the fae took notice of the cloth that the tiny blonde so viciously hung on to throughout the chase. It was clearly woven in the Otherworld, perhaps blessed even by Donn. The craftsmanship was far too intricate in detail to have been made by human hands.

But the fae would not be denied so easily. “Our dealings predate yours, demigod. Surrender us what we are owed—”

“Even if this woman is secondhand?” Diarmuid drove in his point, flabbergasting all the terrifyingly beautiful faces that hovered just beyond the circle of death at his feet.

“I am afraid that I have already been allowed a taste,” he said smugly.

Arturia’s reaction was perfect. With a small gasp and her fingers tenderly touching her lips, the fae had all the proof they needed.

Uther had played them all for fools, thinking they’d accept leftovers when he promised them a feast. Some of their eyes still stared at Arturia’s thin arms, but no longer with desire. Rather, they were beginning to see that the King hadn’t prepared her for them at all. She was short. Clearly starved rather than fattened for their consumption.

They should have known she had already been claimed. The scent of the death god was on her skin the night they took her.

Slowly, the fae began to disappear. One by one, they left, a look of vengeance on their faces. If the Otherworld ever received news that King Uther was dead, he wouldn’t be surprised at all.

“Will they seize Camelot?” Arturia asked as she followed Diarmuid down a trail of death. Although he left tracks of lifeless plants wherever he stepped, after some time, new ones would grow in their place. He’d changed nothing about the cycle of life, only accelerated it. A blessing from his Father, he explained, which did not follow him into the Human Realm.

It would be long before the princess became accustomed to the fact that Diarmuid was royalty as well. The son of Erin’s God of Death, Donn. She couldn’t believe she had someone so renowned in her service for the last three years. Especially if that someone was actually living a second life when he had done so. Suddenly, Diarmuid’s incredible prowess in battle made sense. He’d already lived a life of war once before.

The raven-haired warrior was patient with her, answering her every query as he led her to a small healing pool to recuperate.

“No,” the man said, leading his princess into the shallow water. “The Fae only quarrel with your father. You needn’t worry for the kingdom.”

Her knight—was he still her knight?—sat behind her, undoing the messy braids in her blonde hair as the water washed away her wounds. Being this intimate in public might have been improper in Camelot, but they were no longer bound by the laws and practices of the white castle. Human customs meant nothing in the realm of the fae.

In fact, most everything she knew meant nothing in this realm. She felt like a fish out of water, nay, perhaps even a fish in the desert in this magical land of plenty. There were no kingdoms here, not really. No wars to end with marriage, no diplomatic ties to establish. Here, her title was little more than a luxury price tag. An excuse for her captors to sell off her meat as premium.

Arturia shivered in the cold, goosebumps crawling up her figure.

“I feel I should have accepted death if it meant sparing my father’s life—”

“—Don’t,” the knight stopped, moving his hands from her loose hair to her shoulders. “In all this, you are innocent. It is your father’s own fault he transacted with the Fair Folk. Especially so...if he already had you.”

Arturia turned around so that they faced each other in the water. Her emerald eyes shined brighter than the pool they were in, curiosity and dread rippling within their depths.

“If Queen Igraine truly was barren, do you not suppose your father would first turn to his own court mage for help?” the knight voiced his suspicions.

Neither of them could confirm the answer, but deep down they knew the truth. Arturia was Merlin’s creation, just as Arthur was the Fae’s. No wonder they’d chosen her for their payment. Hers was a unique existence, fashioned in the hands of a demon.

“Have I endangered my brother, then?” she mumbled. “What if they claim his life instead of mine?”

“They are proud creatures. To have someone borne of their interference seated in the highest seat of the kingdom will have them thrilled. The fae will not remove him,” he replied.

A quick glance above her white dress’s neckline revealed the healing waters had taken care of the bruises on her neck. A few moments more and he’d set a fire somewhere close so they could dry off. Then he could take her...where, exactly? To his father? Maybe?

Donn would take her in. Of course he would. His father’s domain never ran out of space. Perhaps he could even take Arturia to Aengus, if she desired a fancier lifestyle more attuned with the arts.

However, it wasn’t Camelot. This was not the world she was raised in. The people within it were different. He had no doubts that she would adjust, but the fact remained that Arturia was a foreigner here.

A long sigh escaped Diarmuid’s lips. He was never a stranger to the Otherworld, but Arturia was. His princess sat here, forever stolen from the life that she knew, and yet she hadn’t spared a single question for her own fate.

“As long as you are human, my liege, you cannot return to Camelot. The fruit of this land anchors you to this realm in more ways than one. Even if your passage were somehow permitted, only starvation awaits you on the other side, for no food of man shall ever taste like what you consume here. Your body will reject anything else,” the demigod elaborated, loathing every word that left his lips.

His heart begged him to hold her, for comfort was the only other thing he could offer for her plight, yet he hesitated. Arturia may have known him for three years, but he’d concealed from her his form, his past, his lineage. If he weren’t the only familiar thing to her within the Otherworld, he wondered if she’d still trust him.

Arturia hugged her knees to her chest. Whether it was to combat the chill of the water or give herself some sense of security, he didn’t know.

“If I cannot fulfill my duties to Camelot, Diarmuid, then what purpose is there to me existing?”

Her words pulled him forward til he rested a hand on her head. Arturia unraveled herself like a blooming rose at his touch, her expression still solemn, but less worried.

“I suppose finding that purpose, becomes the purpose. We’d be in the same boat, Arturia,” he said, giving her a slight smile. She still looked dubious. Of course she did. Arturia knew no other life than the one she spent following tradition and her father’s orders. He, however, was different.

“The reason I came to Camelot at all was to live a life of service as a knight. I thought it might grant me some fulfilment. However, the moment I realized the very order—the king—I served had forsaken you,” he paused for a moment, bringing his hand lower to cup her cheek, “...It was all too easy to rescind my loyalty.”

The irony of it all was killing him. In his last life, he would have done anything his king demanded. He was only forced to leave due to extraneous circumstances, and as soon as his king declared forgiveness he was all too ready to retake his position at Fionn’s side. This time, he’d left Camelot peacefully and by his own choice, but he’d left nonetheless. It turns out that losing your life because of your lord’s jealousy changed a person. This time, he was finical in choosing who to serve, and Uther certainly did not fit his criteria.

“I do not know anything else but the knight’s path, just as you know only your path as a princess,” he continued as she leaned into his touch. “But I am beginning to think my happiness is not strictly confined to that life. If I may be so bold, milady, I believe you may be the same.”

Looking back, he indeed was happy as a knight of Camelot, but most of his joy came from serving her. There was nothing more thrilling than bringing victory to her doorstep, or wearing her token during tournaments, or riding with her into the forest whenever they could. In the beginning, he did strive to join the Table, but that wish quickly diminished when he realized the added duty would shorten the time he was able to teach her to wield swords and spears.

Diarmuid wouldn’t claim she was his new purpose. But he was sure that whatever awaited him, he wanted Arturia there.

This time, he really did pull her into an embrace. Although the water was cold, Diarmuid felt warmth where their skin touched. It helped remind him that although he’d been too late to take her back, he wasn’t too late to save her life. She was still here. He just had to convince her to stay.

“I offer you my company, Arturia. You will never be alone if...if you wish to continue your journey here.”

The blonde woman closed her eyes, contemplating his proposal. This fate was not the one she was born for. Nay, in a way it was, since her father had sold her off the same day she was born. She’d only been tricked into believing she’d be a political tool for forging alliances. In not succumbing to the Fair Folk, however, she’d basically rejected that fate. Who knew now what her life was meant for?

Diarmuid started a fire as she pulled his gift tighter around herself. She hadn’t let it go from the minute he gave it, only momentarily giving up its warmth to bathe in the healing waters. He was being so kind to her, so patient. He no longer owed her his service, considering Camelot’s rules no longer bound them, but he remained with her.

So much had changed in such a short time. But even if her knight looked different, his soul stayed the same. He was her one constant, a beacon of light in the world of unknowns she was thrust into. There was much she had to learn about Diarmuid’s past, but he didn’t feel like a stranger at all.

Finding purpose, he’d said. Arturia didn’t even know where to begin. What was she if not the princess her tutors had groomed since birth? What was she if not her Father’s sacrifice to the Fae? She scoured her mind for any wish, any want she may have had beyond her duty, looking for something, anything that might give her some direction.

As her eyes followed her knight, she remembered her last thought before she believed the vines at her neck would take her life.

She wished she could tell him how she felt.

But that wasn’t all, was it?

What she wished for was no end to the time she spent with Diarmuid, for in those moments, she felt most herself. Perhaps she had been wanting that for a long time. She may have been ready to be married off for the sake of peacekeeping, but their kiss was a result of a selfish, pent-up desire to stay with him instead of fulfilling that duty. A final goodbye that conveyed her feelings before she had to go.

It was mere coincidence that the same kiss was what landed them in their current position.

Arturia reached for the hand of the man beside her closing her small fingers over his.

“I do not know who I am yet,” she admitted, her grip tightening such that he wouldn’t leave. But the gods knew Diarmuid never had the intention to do so. He needed her the same way she needed him.

“Neither do I know myself,” he answered, stroking her fingers with his thumb.

Arturia bit her lip, still wary of the future. This was quite literally the first time in her life when she didn’t know what would come next. There was no schedule to maintain, no grand plan to follow, nothing.

“All I am sure of,” she continued, gently tilting his chin so they gazes locked. “is that I need you with me. Is...Is that alright?”

Diarmuid pulled her closer with their interlocked hands, shielding her from the wind with his body. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, more than relieved that was her answer.

“More than alright, Arturia.”

The pair faced the bountiful world beyond the fire at their feet, wondering what it had in store. It would be a long journey for each of them—finding oneself was quite the task after all—but they had each other. That was more than enough.

_____

Thank you for the ask! :)

I've been playing with this concept in my head for a while. An AU where Arturia isn't the King of Knights, but set in her time (not in a Modern AU) and incorporating beings like the more mischievous kind of Fae. Also you know, since Donn is the god of the dead, hc that Diarmuid's Hope you enjoyed!

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help-i-need-a-cool-username · 3 years

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Been thinking about what Mordred's life in Camelot would've been like if Merlin didn't hate him and then thought about how if Morgana was around she would probably always give him her favor at every tournament (until he married) and the other knights would tease him for that so have a broad outline for a Beloved Characters Dont Turn Evil AU

Morgana discovers her magic and Merlin swears to her that he'll protect her. He comforts her when she's scared and Merlin begs Gaius to share his knowledge and suspicions about Morgana to Morgana herself. One night Morgana bursts into their quarters in hysterics, waking them up, screaming and sobbing, and it feels like Merlin's hug is the only thing holding her together but its not enough. Glass starts shattering, candles flare, chandeliers fall to the ground. Gaius decides at this point not telling her will do considerable more harm than not, to both herself and others. They stay up through the night. Gaius speaking and Morgana asking questions, Merlin with a supportive hand on Morgana's shoulder. At one point Morgana tearfully asks the question Merlin asked Gaius long ago, "am i a monster?". They all fall asleep at the table, and that morning when Gwen arrives to wake Morgana only to find her absent with her blankets thrown over the bed and several things knocked over she runs and alerts the guards. The guards initiate lockdown and the commotion reaches Uther and wakes Arthur (Merlin is once again late), and they proceed to fear she was kidnapped right under their noses without anyone knowing. Arthur runs down to get Merlin so he can prepare him for the day only to open the door to find the three of them asleep on the table.

Later Merlin organizes for Morgana to learn more than Gaius can tell her from the Druids, but she intends to stay the night at least, if not then significantly longer (anywhere from a week to several months), and they have no good excuse for her to use that would allow her to leave without Gwen and guards. They come up with some very convoluted plan, which does not end up in the raid that occurred in canon, and when Gwen catches her sneaking back she lies and says she wanted to check up on Mordred (who she did run into), to see if he was with the Druid encampment that was rumored to be nearby (which he was). She didn't learn nearly as much as she hoped in those few hours, but they at least pointed her in a direction.

Morgause comes to town, and leaves Morgana her bracelet. After discovering it stops her visions Morgana takes it to Gaius, who reveals it was enchanted and looks similar to the one Lady Vivienne used to wear. Morgana states Morgause got it from her mother, but that Lady Vivienne was Morgana's mother and wonders how the bracelet ever got to Morgause. Gaius says there was a rumor that Lady Vivienne had a baby that displayed a affinity for magic, but Gorlois told Uther their baby had died before they even named her. Gaius reveals that the baby was smuggled out of Camelot and given to the High Priestesses, and Morgause might very well be that baby. Morgana begins to long for a connection with Morgause, to meet the sister she never knew of and recover something of her dead parents. When she begins secretly meeting Morgause, she tells Merlin and then asks him to come with her when she begins receiving lessons from her. Morgause tries to convince them that killing Uther is the right thing to do, but Merlin keeps reassuring Morgana that all they need to do is convince Arthur to change the law for when he is king, and he's not ready to do that now so theres no use in killing Uther before he's ready, and that she does love Uther and Uther does love her and would try to "fix" her well before he ordered her death. Morgause still wants him dead, to rush the prophecy of magic's return. Them sneaking out every few nights cements the idea that Morgana and Merlin are secretly dating in castle gossip.

Im not sure what happens with Morgause, but i think she would still take Camelot at some point and she would spare Morgana and by extension Merlin. Morgana and Merlin make sure to get Arthur out (and Merlin probably goes with him) because they dont trust Morgause to not kill him. Morgause reveals her heritage (and makes Morgana a Princess and her Heir) despite claiming the throne for people of magic and not the House of Gorlois, and the knowledge that Vivienne and one of her daughters were sorceresses leads Uther to believe he can not save Morgana from magic that is likely in her blood and THAT is what breaks his mental state. Morgana's real heritage is revealed soon after, with Uther informing Gaius that Morgana being a Princess is actually within her birth rights. Morgause continues Morgana's training because at some point Morgana has to become a High Priestess because canon. That or Morgause switches sides (this is a Beloved Characters Dont Go Evil AU might as well make it No Beloved Characters Are Evil AU) and she trains Morgana later after Arthur is a established King.

Morgause is overthrown and the Round Table formed. Arthur as well as several people in the castle know of or suspect Morgana of being a sorceress but he refuses to banish her, first believing it to have been out of her control (forced by Morgause) and later learning that her nightmares had been magic all along (how could he punish her for something he knows she had tried to get rid of for over a decade?). Perhaps he lets her keep the title of Princess, having always seen her as a sister (and someone who is compassionate for the people in a way royalty should be) and armed with the new knowledge of her being his actual sister. Everyone expects Regent Arthur to crack down on magic, its what Uther would have done and what the people want, so he does. Morgana becomes a advocate for magic, as she had been for Arthur in private as a Prince, and it scares people in the castle. They believe her to be working with Morgause, despite her arguments being for individuals' wellbeing and how punishments fuels hatred for Camelot. Several attempts are made on her life, many stopped by Merlin and Gwen and sometimes Lancelot. Arthur often "asks" Merlin for his opinion on magic and with Morgana's voice being public he feels okay with being straight with Arthur on what he thinks. Uther dies same as he did in canon: protecting Arthur from a assassination.

Mordred becomes a Knight because canon. Morgana is ecstatic to see him again and acts like a mother who hasn't seen her child in ages when she first sees him. Merlin has learned you often make the enemies that are destined to kill you (ex. trying to stop Morgana's visions from coming true) so he ignores Kilgharrah and doesn't hate Mordred (he is always wary though). Mordred alternates between childlike eagerness around the knights and following Merlin around while hero worshiping him (no one can figure out why. Their best guess is that Morgana is a mutual friend). In the beginning he kept messing up his name (calling him "Merlin" is just weird) and they often talk in their heads and therefore just stare at each other which has led to two conflicting rumors: theyre in love or they hate each other. Morgana often invites him to dinner, and when they dine with Arthur they easily slip into mind-talking (because chewing) and Arthur is convinced that they're making fun of him every time they do it. He protects Arthur when Merlin can't, often runs off to do side quests Merlin needs to do but cant get away to do, and often tags along with Merlin on his quests. Being able to share the knowledge of his destiny since Lancelot died (if he dies in this AU) relaxes Merlin's caution and allows him to be emotionally closer to him. Mordred enjoys being around Merlin and Morgana not just because he's Emrys and she's Morgana, but because they are the closest thing to home he has: they know what he is, they understand (bits) of his culture and make it possible for Mordred to share it with them, their individual magic sings strong enough to remind him of when he lived surrounded by it. He quickly grows to love them so very much and no one understands WHY. The knights tease him about it, and Morgana forcing Arthur to take Mordred on certain missions he isnt qualified for "so he can learn" does not help. Gwaine and Percival were planning to convince him that he couldnt compete in a tournament without a lady's favor because he's the rookie and his panicked look greatly amuses them only to find Morgana giving him her's before kissing his cheek. They were relentless after that, alternating between "lady's favors dont count if they're from your mom," "Mordred has a girlfriend," and whatever the medieval version of affectionately calling him "Bambi" is. Morgana sits in the stand's throne (since Arthur is competing) or besides it if Gwen is queen, and she flashes a smile at him when he comes out (Gwen too. He's a sweet kid with a baby face, of course he's one of her favorites. He also reminds her of Merlin when she first met him: kind, awkward, cute). This settles Mordred's nerves but has the unfortunate side effect of increased teasing. Merlin doesn't let it go to far, he never does, and gives them a distraction before running back to Arthur.

And then magic is brought back to the land and Morgana continues the work of the High Priestesses and helps the rebuilding efforts and they're still adventures and problems, but everyone Lives Happily Ever After

#hinacu merlin #bbc merlin #morgana #mordred #merlin #morgause #au #morgana is good au #mordred is good au #to clarify merlin and morgana never date #its just castle gossip and arthurs assumptions #mordred has familial love for morgana and no you dont need a family dynamic for that #people make mom jokes but its not like that #morgana cares a lot about people and wants to protect them but mordred is ''new'' and ten years younger than her #so mom jokes are too easy #morgana tells merlin of her visions and he sets out to stop them like when kilgharrah tells him stuff #and then she gets her bracelet and that stops but its not like merlin can ask her to take it off #idk when morgana finds out about his magic #maybe he tells her about the whole dragonlord thing but i dont trust her not to NOT say something about it when defending him #he def would have kept it a secret around morgause and in canon she didnt seem to know his power but nimueh did so who knows #i like to think she has no idea that he has powerful magic that hes actually super weak with it since he almost never does magic #big fan of mordreds silent hero worship

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deepend-swimmer · 4 years

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Arthur's mother sigil and his love for Merlin

this is the elaboration I promised on my last merthur post (the 'arthur realised he loved merlin unconditionally on the last episode' one) if asked and since @camelotsheart asked I did it :) it's quite big but bare it with me:

As I see, Arthur associates everything that has to do with his duty as prince with Uther. Maybe because Uther loved Ygraine so much and still gave her life for an heir, he only truly ever seen Arthur as the future king, at least more than his actual son. However, Ygraine had Arthur because she wanted a son and not because she wanted a prince, or at least that's what Arthur could have seen as. He never got to actually meet her, but maybe in his eyes, the fact that she died for him and still loved him regardless showed that love didn't have to be conditioned to his duty. So, for Arthur, his mother kind of represented everything he could have been and already is outside of a prince.

And Arthur's affection to Merlin is, for most part, seen outside his duty. "I know I’m a prince, so we can’t be friends, but if I wasn’t a prince..." well excuse me sir, I've seen you be friends for at least a season, 8 episodes ago you were calling him "a true friend". Arthur, for so long, sees that his relationship with Merlin would be different if they weren't on their respective positions, but then he keeps contradicting himself on either they are friends or not (through both actions and words). Yet, when he express to Gwen the wish he sometimes has of leaving Camelot and his duty, have a little farm somewhere no one knows him, it's not surprising that he would bring Merlin, because Merlin is still a defining feature of his life had he not been a prince.

To counterpart this, Arthur's love to Gwen is tied with his position as a prince and Uther. Their relationship starts with Arthur trying to stepdown from his place as prince, he loves Guinevere in defiance to Uther, he thinks of her as his future queen, even when he tries to give up his love for her it's so that the people of Camelot don't see him as weak. The one time he considers his love for her outside of being Prince and King Arthur is when he tells Morgana he would runaway with Gwen now, to then, one day, return back to their rightful place as king and queen of Camelot. If that wasn't enough, Gwen's love for Arthur overcoming her love for Lancelot also comes from his position as prince, when he shows himself to be a more merciful royal and more in touch if his people than Uther. Even one of the ways Gwen demonstrates her devotion and love to Arthur is by taking care of Uther after Morgana's betrayal.

I think everything starts to change in The Coming of Arthur, the first time that he isn't the heir of Camelot. And throughout it all, Merlin is the one beside him, not wavering his devotion or leaving his side for once, sort of proving to Arthur what he had always thought: his and Merlin's relationship isn't conditioned by his position as prince, even if, ultimately, they are master and servant.

Then, season 4 happened. As far as I can see, Arthur realises he is in love with Merlin when he is sure he is going to lose him. It's probably one of the first times since they've met that Arthur needs to let Merlin go and for what? His duty to Camelot and his people. Merlin is literally dying and Arthur wants to take him back to Camelot himself, but he needs to stay in order to insure that no one else from his kingdom dies by the hands of the Dorocha. And even in his dying moments, Merlin begs Arthur to stay by his side. When he comes back alive, Arthur can't even say anything, he needs some full seconds to compose himself. From that point and on, Arthur openly refers to Merlin as his best/only friend. If the longing, lovingly stares weren't enough to prove that at that point Arthur already knew he loved Merlin, we have the fully scripted, filmed and edited deleted scene: Arthur gives his mother's sigil to Merlin.

I think it says a lot that it was planned for his mother's sigil to go to Merlin and the Pendragon's seal to Guinevere. Merlin getting one of the only things Arthur has of his mother, the one person he sees as proof that love for him doesn't need to be conditioned to him being the Once and Future King of Camelot, when since the very beginning of the series Merlin destiny was to fulfill Arthur's as that king. And I see it as Arthur best effort to acknowledge all that and let Merlin know that he loves him just as much as he loved her. On the other side, Gwen getting the seal shows once again how much their love, despite its true nature, is really tied with Arthur's position and he passes down that condition of reigning Camelot to Guinevere, because he knows she will fulfill it with her whole heart just as he had always seen it.

So when in the last episode, he finds out that Merlin is what his father has battled his whole life, something that Arthur had time and time again decided to keep it outlawed for the sake of Camelot and that Merlin had supported it all those times, putting Arthur's and Camelot's sake over his own, he is understandably taken back. Merlin put his duty to Arthur above everything, through years and years and all Arthur had ever wanted was to give off his own to spend his life with him. But now, he already gave the royal seal to Gwen, Arthur is no longer the sovereign to Camelot and he is there with Merlin, in a place no one knows him, and he doesn't feel the weight of Albion upon his shoulder and Merlin still loves and cares for him despite his initial rejection and he is dying. He has everything he has ever secretly wished for but with the unfortunate detail that he is dying, despite how much Merlin wants to convince himself he can save him.

It takes time for Arthur to forgive Merlin's betrayal, not because he has magic but rather because he didn't trust Arthur enough to not need to lie for all this years when Arthur trusted him far above anyone else. He ultimately forgives Merlin because he can feel himself succumbing quicker and quicker with each second and he doesn't want to die with Merlin thinking he is angry at him or worst, that he hates him. Then, Merlin goes all the way and make the plow fields speech and Arthur thinks he could break right there, the devotion overflowing Merlin's being with every word acting as a switch inside his mind: there is not one bit of Arthur that doesn't love every single bit of Merlin and nothing could ever change that.

#i didn't even realise camelotsheart had the sigil as their icon lmao what a coincidence #it's a long analysis guys basically the only thing i did today #i wrote this instead of working on my merthur fic lmao #merthur #merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #it also has arwen bc i think they loved each other even if gwen would always love lancelot and arthur loved merlin too #uther pendragon #ygraine pendragon #guinevere pendragon #character analysis #deaif #dave writes

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meta-enthusiasm · 3 years

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You know what I am really fucking tired of seeing in popular media?

The "evil, hysterical woman in power" trope. The clichè that potrays women who are in a position of power as overzealous, unhinged, power hungry maniacs who are a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Female leaders are shown as less resonable and down to earth as their male counterparts, and are often villainized by either the fandom or the narrative of the story itself. They are doomed to fail because of their womanliness and need to be taken down before they enact their evil plans, preferably by a man, or a woman who performs the 'right' kind of femininity.

This trope relies on the sexist misconception that women are more fragile than men, more emotionally unstable and unpredictable.

"Women aren't cut out to be leaders, they should be nurturing and supportive and tend to their families. Having higher aspirations is against their nature and will eventually break them and drive them crazy."

That type of bullshit that was designed to keep women out of leadership positions and keep oppressing us. To keep us quiet and submissive.

Here are a few examples to further explain this stereotype:

Daenerys Targaryen is one of the most well known characters to fall victim to this trope. She is an abuse and rape victim, seeking to change the current social and political systems of the world because she knows how many people suffer under its injustice. ("Crush the wheel.")

For all her compassion and charity she has shown over the series, the writers decided that it would be reasonable for her to go crazy at the end of the show and, despite promising she wouldn't inflict more damage than necessary, kill thousands of innocent people whose government had already surrendered to her.

And guess who had to kill her in the end? Yup, another man. Her love interest, who was "forced" to betray her.

Next, we have:

Morgana Pendragon, from "Merlin". To remind you, she is an abuse victim who had to endure her father's controlling behavior and bigoted attitude towards people with magic abilities which, suprise suprise, she turned out to have. She had to watch as her father murdered and oppressed people just like herself, and when she challenged that behavior, he would come down hard with punishment. (Going so far as to actually throwing her in the dungeons for a couple days.)

Eventually, she rebelled against the corrupt system and had her genocidal father killed. She led a rebellion against Camelot after Uther's son (Arthur) continued to oppress magicians under his reign, and sought to create a better future for herself and her people.

So far so good, right? Well, no. The problem here is that she is the antagonist of the story. She is portrayed as being in the wrong for not quietly taking the injustice and watching it happen.

Halfway through the show, she becomes obsessed with power and status and desperately chases after the throne of Camelot. She is extremly vindictive, manipulative and cruel to others to archieve her goals. She is a "hysterical woman" who is out of control, emotionally unstable, challenges the patriarchy, and therefore needs to be defeated.

Her death was portrayed as tragic, yet absolutely necessary.

(Of course it had to be a man who killed her.)

Azula is the epitome of this horrid, misogynistic trope. She is a fierce, ambitious leader and highly skilled fire bender, respected and feared among her people. She is highly driven and succeeds at almost everything she sets her mind to.

Ever since she came into this world, she was better at everything than Zuko. She was a better fighter than him, a better bender, better strategist, better child. And that is precisely the reason why she had to lose in the end.

Despite coming from the exact same circumstances as Zuko, the story and the fandom at large see Azula as way less redemable and likable than him. Even though she is an abuse victim whose own mother hated her and is a literal child soldier, she doesn't get any sympathy from the protagonists of the story. The otherwise so understanding and wise Iroh even calls her "crazy", (which is, if you've done some basic research into misogynistic expressions, really fucking problematic.) and tells Zuko that there is no saving her. Why? He doesn't tell, but it's obvious that the writers made him say this because of their own internalized sexist beliefs. She isn't offered a way out of her toxic environment like Zuko was. She didn't get the support from Iroh because he had already given up on her.

To top it off, she has a nervous breakdown near the end and loses her remaining sanity. Because, you know, "She's craaaazy!! And SO unstable!! Typical woman." (Not to mention how this further stigmatizes mental illness and portrays it as something only evil people get.)

She was supposed to become the next fire lord, a position that carries utmost power and influence. Of course, such authority could not be given to a woman. That's why Zuko, a man, gets to be the next fire lord, and we are left assuming Azula will be spending the rest of her days in prison.

The writers assume the audience detests Azula and wants her to suffer. She doesn't deserve a happy ending, or the love and support that Zuko got.

Why? Because she poses a threat to the status quo, the patriarchy. She challenged the belief that men had to be the best and most efficient at everything they do, that women could indeed be better leaders and be happy with having a career and not be nurturing, motherly figures to the men in their lives. And for that transgression, for breaking gender stereotypes, Azula was punished.

(It's also why Katara, someone who performs the "right" kind of femininity by being nurturing, motherly, supportive, healing, doting, and is the care taker of the group, ends up taking Azula, the evil and perverted form of femininity, down. I believe @batboyblog has made a similar post about this.)

This is Carmilla from the popular Netflix show "Castlevania", and if you've payed attention to my previous points, it should be pretty obvious what her character represents and how her story ends.

Note that she is also an abuse and rape survivor who is represented as evil and cruel for being angry at what was done to her.

To top it off, she is also an example of the man hating woman stereotype, whose anger at the misogyny and sexism of the world is portrayed as an "overreaction" and as "too much".

At the end of the story, she had to be taken down by another man (Isaac) so that the status quo could be preserved, and the reign of a crazy bitch like her could be stopped. Horay, the day is saved from yet another unstable, selfish woman who would have brought suffering and pain over her country if allowed to rule. Hysterical women with their demand for equality.

Conclusion:

In all these examples, we can see female abuse victims thriving for power and status, for respect, being represented as something negative and something to avoid. Trying to fundamentally change a system that is rigged against women/female representing people is a fruitless endevour that will eventually fail and drive us crazy, because our minds aren't strong enough to handle this type of responsibility and status.

Holding on to anger and bitterness over what was done to us is the sign of a bad person, and the only morally acceptable path is to forgive/ignore our abusers and let the injustice continue to happen.

Strangely enough though, that same gaslighting, victim blaming mentality gets almost never applied to male characters. Men who seek vengeance are never portrayed as weak or crazy for giving in to the wish of changing a corrupt system/killing bad people. (Batman, the Punisher, Hawkeye, John Wick, Jason Todd, Erin, Scar from FMAB, Iron Man, and so on)

The reason why these stereotypes almost never apply to men but almost always to women is sexism. There is no other explanation for this. These tropes were specifically designed to make society believe that women aren't cut out for leadership positions and are happiest with domestic, easy tasks like watching after our children and taking care of the household.

Women who are angry, women who are dominant are to be feared and distrusted. They are represented as a danger to the general public and need to be taken down before they enact their evil plans.

Feel free to add further examples.

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underafallensky · 4 years

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Do you ever just. Get really emotional about Merlin in Arthur in the episode with Valiant??? Arthur wants so badly to be able to trust Merlin in this episode, but he’s grown up basically expecting that he has to be alone because people will either tell him what he wants to hear or exploit any connection they form with him, so trust isn’t something that comes easy to him. If not for the fact that Merlin repeatedly called out his behaviour even after being punished, I’m not even sure if he would have considered trusting Merlin at this point. But he knows Merlin thought he was an ass, and he knows Merlin saved his life anyway, so when Merlin’s insistent that his life is in danger again he wants to take it seriously.

Specifically though what really gets to me is how the second Merlin says, “I know I’m just a servant, and my word doesn’t count for anything,” Arthur looks at him. Arthur, don’t forget, speaks later in the series about wanting everyone to be equals. He doesn’t want people to elevate his importance and he doesn’t want them to belittle their own. Obviously he struggles with accomplishing this because of coming from a privileged upbringing, but still, the desire is there, and I think it starts with Merlin standing up to him in the very first episode. So when Merlin is asking him to ignore the difference in their stations and trust him, all Arthur asks for in return is that Merlin look him in the eye and swear to him he’s telling the truth because he believes Merlin to be someone of integrity.

He believes this so much, that even when the witness Uther would have believed is killed, Arthur still uses Merlin’s word as evidence. He believes this so much, that even as he’s telling Merlin he needs a servant he can trust and sends him away, and Merlin thinks he’s lost that trust forever, we see that he hasn’t. Because Merlin risks punishment to go to Arthur and give him another heartfelt warning, this time begging him not to fight Valiant at all because he’ll use the shield against him. And Arthur tells him, “I know.”

So Arthur’s comment about needing a servant he can trust gains new context because he hasn’t suddenly decided that Merlin was lying to him; he knows Merlin was telling the truth, even if Uther doesn’t believe it. When Arthur says he needs a servant he can trust, what he really means is a servant he can depend on. A servant who will have his back, who will support him, who will make him feel just a little bit less alone in his journey to becoming king. Of course, we know that Merlin is all of those things and more, but Arthur is still not sure of that yet. He realizes later that he has been unfair - it wasn’t Merlin’s fault that the witness died, nor is it his fault that Uther won’t believe the word of a servant over the word of a knight.

Their final scene in this episode is the one that makes me really emotional though, because Arthur and Morgana bicker about whether or not she saved him in the fight against Valiant, and Arthur’s first instinct is to go to Merlin’s side and complain. Merlin, who isn’t his servant anymore. Merlin, who is just a peasant and who Arthur arguably barely even knows at this point. Arthur would never complain to the other servants like this, but he complains to Merlin because in his mind Merlin is not just a servant.

Merlin, on the other hand, is acting uncharacteristically subservient, not really knowing where he stands with Arthur or how he is meant to respond. And the second Arthur picks up on this, he knows he’s to blame and he admits to Merlin that he made a mistake. Like. Arthur Pendragon. Son of the King. Prince of Camelot. Admitting he was wrong and unfair to Merlin, who had only wanted to protect him. The second he says it was unfair of him to sack Merlin, the grin Merlin gets is just... so... alkshglakshgasg it’s so endearing okay I tried to contain my emotions there but I can’t because he’s just so freaking pleased because Arthur is bringing himself off his pedestal for Merlin after Merlin was convinced that whatever destiny they were supposed to share was already over. And Merlin doesn’t think this is translating to him getting his job back, he just thinks Arthur is acting like an actual decent human being capable of acknowledging his mistakes even if it is to someone of lower status.

So he tells Arthur maybe he can buy him a drink sometime to make it up to him, because after this what reason does he have to be part of Arthur’s life? At least if Arthur agrees, they can spend more time together, maybe still be friends. Instead, Arthur tells him he can’t be seen buying drinks for his servant, and at first Merlin’s expression is like, ah yeah that makes sense, and then it’s like his brain catches up and realizes what Arthur’s saying.

“Your servant? You sacked me.” “Now I’m rehiring you.”

And! Merlin! Is! So! Pleased! Like this isn’t the cute little grin he gave Arthur when he acknowledged he was wrong, this is a full, light-up-your-entire-face smile because Arthur is inviting him back into his circle, back at his side. Arthur is telling him, I was wrong, and I can trust you. He may not know everything Merlin did for him during this episode, but he knew enough to welcome him back anyway. Yes, he does so in his typical “conceal don’t feel” fashion, but Merlin at this point is already starting to see through it a little bit. He may not realize how important he is to Arthur (or how important he’ll become) but he knows their connection isn’t completely one sided. It’s really mostly his insecurity about not being able to share all of himself with Arthur that I think keeps him from seeing the true extent of Arthur’s attachment, because Arthur wants someone he can trust, and Merlin wants nothing more than to be that person, but Merlin also has to spend most of the series lying to Arthur with increasing frequency as time goes on.

#merthur #merlin x arthur #arthur x merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merthur meta #I meant to post something about this the other day when I actually rewatched this episode #but I didn't get around to it #am I going to wax poetic about every episode in season 1? probably #meta: merthur #my meta #meta: arthur pendragon

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a-written-dream · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 1,788

Fandom: Merlin (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

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

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Future, Gen or Pre-Slash, Rebellion, Arthur Knows About Merlin’s Magic (Merlin), Cybernetics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Captivity, Identity Reveal, Evil Uther Pendragon (Merlin), Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, pretty canon-typical though, POV Merlin (Merlin), The Merlin Melee Challenge 2021, Fights, Rebel Leader Arthur

Summary: Because they had been captured and suddenly Arthur was no longer just Arthur, he was Arthur Pendragon, son of everything they fought against.

Or: In a world years into the future, Merlin and Arthur fight against the tyranny of Uther Pendragon with an entire rebellion by their side. But Arthur hasn’t been entirely honest and even locked up in a cell Merlin can’t help the burning feelings of betrayal and anger. - For @merlin-fic-server’s Melee Challenge. Prompts: ‘I wish I’d told you’, punk, coin & Russian Violet

The metal is cold against Merlin’s back and against the skin of his wrists, even though he’s been pressed against it for the better part of an hour. He wonders briefly if it’s on purpose, if they keep the cell so cold to inflict more distress and discomfort. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was.

A florescent light flickers above their heads, and the only sound in the small space is their breaths bouncing off the walls. There are dents in the door from where Arthur tried to break it down, but even with his strength the door didn’t budge, and with the power-dampening cuffs around Merlin’s wrists, Merlin’s magic is all but useless. Arthur kept trying for a formidable amount of time, but when his hand gave off a sickening crunch of metal, he screamed in frustration and punched the wall for good measure before sinking down onto the floor.

Metal scraps still litter the floor around Arthur’s legs where he’s sitting in the corner now, a long time later, the fight all but drained out of him, head in his hands. The silence is heavy and thick and awkward, tense with Merlin’s anger and confusion, with Arthur’s guilt and anxiety.

“I wish I’d told you-“

Arthur’s voice is quiet and yet it seems to echo and boom within the metal box they’re locked into. It startles Merlin out of the apathetic calm he’d been lulled into by the silence. They’re waiting for their inevitable executions, and yet the sound of Arthur’s voice makes a white hot feeling of betrayal course through him.

“What,” he interrupts, “that you were leading a rebellion against your father? Believe me, Arthur, I wish you had too,” he snaps.

Because they had been captured and suddenly Arthur was no longer just Arthur, he was Arthur Pendragon, son of everything they fought against.

Arthur winces in his corner, running his hands through his hair. “No, I-“

Merlin doesn’t let him finish, too angry to keep the words bubbling to the surface down any longer. “How could you keep this from me? From all of us?” Merlin has been by Arthur’s side for years, fighting with him, protecting him, supporting him, and yet Arthur’s kept something as monumental as this a secret. “How could you not tell me?” Why did you not trust me?

“Why?” Arthur snaps, finally looking up to meet Merlin’s gaze. His blue eyes flash with anger, and Merlin is sure his own dark purple ones are just as angry. In Merlin’s fury, they unhelpfully provide him with the weaknesses in Arthur’s protective plating, with information on just where to send a spark of electricity and magic to shut down Arthur’s entire power system and deal the most damage.

Merlin blinks the detailed blueprints away. He has them memorised, but even betrayed and angry and hurt, he would never do anything to harm Arthur.

“Does it matter?” Arthur continues, voice hard and cold and wounded. “Does it matter that he raised me? That I grew up trying to be loved by a tyrant? That it took me years to finally understand the extent of his atrocities and his crimes? It sure doesn’t make me blind to them, now.” There are tears in his eyes and guilt in his voice. “Sure doesn’t make me blind to the horrific things I’ve done in his name, done to people like-“ you, he doesn’t finish. Like Morgana, like Mordred. To people with the ability to infuse their tech with magic. “I hate him, Merlin, and I hate that I still love him, but nothing, nothing, could ever make me see past the things he’s done, the things he is still doing to his own people, to my people, to our people.” He grits his teeth and clenches his eyes shut, brow furrowed in a painful frown. When he opens his eyes and looks at Merlin again, he looks so very tired.

“I tried to kill him on sight, when I first understood, really understood. I screamed my throat raw as I condemned him from the cell he put me in, and then I decided that I would do everything in my power to make sure his rule comes to an end. I can’t continue to watch people suffer under his hands, no matter how much my wretched heart still aches for his love and approval. I can’t let him continue to slaughter innocent people simply because they exist in a way that doesn’t appease him or because they disagree with him, even if I can never atone for what I’ve done. I will live with the guilt for all my life but I couldn’t, can’t, continue to live without trying to right the things he’s wronged.”

Merlin can’t do anything but stare at him, for a long stretching moment, watching as Arthur holds his gaze and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. This, this is why they follow Arthur, why the whole rebellion would be willing to lay down their lives for him, because Arthur is a man who hurts with injustices he’s grown up never knowing but has intimate knowledge of, because he sees wrong and does anything he can to make it right, because he’s willing to go against everything he’s been taught to believe and everyone he’s been taught to love to save people he’s never met. Because he’s willing to kill his own father if it means the rest of the world gets to go on living.

“You should have still told me,” Merlin says quietly, his chest aching at the pain in Arthur’s eyes.

Arthur averts his gaze, clenching his hands into fists in front of him. The sound of metal grinding against metal fills their cell.

“I didn’t want you to see me any differently,” he admits quietly.

Merlin’s heart throbs with hurt. Does he not realise Merlin could never? Does he not know the world could turn and end and he would never see Arthur like anything other than the best, the most important person he knows?

“Arthur,” he says softly. He doesn’t continue until Arthur lifts his gaze to look at him. “When I look at you, I see a man who is honourable, compassionate, and kind. I see a man who would do anything to change the world for the better – even go against the father who raised him. I see my best friend,” Merlin watches Arthur grit his teeth and blink the wetness from his eyes, “and I couldn’t see you any differently even if I tried.”

Arthur gives him a hesitant, forced half-smile, hands relaxing against his bent knees.

“I’m hurt you didn’t trust me enough to tell me,” Merlin admits, and Arthur glances away, shame pinching his brows together. “But I’m not angry at you for being someone’s son.”

When Arthur looks back at him, Merlin smiles. “We cannot help who we are born as, only who we choose to become, and every day I have known you, Arthur, you have chosen a path that is good and just and right, that goes against everything you’ve been born into and raised to believe, to be someone who is kind and fair and understanding. And that makes you the greatest man I’ve ever known.”

Arthur’s eyes are brimming, but he’ll never let the tears fall. He never does. There’s a smile on his lips though, and this time it’s soft and small and real.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says quietly.

Merlin smiles at him again, and he hopes it’s reassuring and forgiving. “The rebellion would do well to know.”

Arthur shakes his head. “They wouldn’t follow me if they did,” he says, as if he truly believes they wouldn’t, as if he doesn’t understand all the reasons each of them have to stand by his side.

“They would,” Merlin tells him, certain and sure. “Sure, there might be backlash from some, but most of them have followed you for long enough to know that it doesn’t matter. They trust you with their lives, Arthur, with the future. Not because of where you come from, but because of who you are. You have proven time and time again that you are willing to lay down your life for the cause just the same as the others, that you will sacrifice everything you have to give for a better world if you must, that you will not hesitate to go through hell to get us there. They don’t doubt your loyalty to them or to the world we’re trying to create, and it won’t change with this truth. They follow you because you are a thoughtful and caring leader, no matter the circumstances of your birth; the only thing that binds you to Uther is your blood and your name. They know that, just as well as I do,” he says. He’s grinning now, the edges of anger only a drop left simmering in his stomach. “You are the rightful heir to the throne, but more importantly, you are their chosen leader, and they will follow you because they choose to do so. Trust them like they trust you.” Merlin holds Arthur’s gaze with steady eyes, and he wonders if the fire he feels in his chest is as clear to Arthur as it is to Merlin. “It matters where you come from only because the world deserves to know that even the son of Uther Pendragon will not tolerate his tyranny or bow beneath him.”

Arthur swallows again. “I don’t know if I can do it.” He looks at Merlin, conflicted and uncertain and scared. But Merlin can see that he’s made up his mind, probably long before Merlin told him to. Perhaps he just isn’t ready to face it alone.

“I’ll be there every step of the way.”

Arthur’s smile is tentative and grateful.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

There’s a beat of silence where all they do is smile at each other, and then Arthur closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, flexing his broken fingers. When he opens his eyes again, the fight and the purpose that had first pulled Merlin in shines with the brightness of a hundred suns and Merlin grins so widely his cheeks hurt.

“So, how do we get out of here?”

Metal scraping against metal catches their attention as something slides underneath the door. The brass object on the floor is flat, thin, and round and they both look down at the coin, hundreds of years old and completely useless in a world where physical currency hasn’t existed for well over a century. They only know one person who still carries those around.

They turn to grin at each other.

“Gwaine.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin & arthur #merlin fanfiction #merlin fanfic #cyberpunk au #dystopian au #arthur pendragon #nox writes #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #hurt and comfort #angst #merthur

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morganas-destiny · 3 years

Text

(This turned out longer than intended lmao, I was just gonna write a little and then it turned into this long ass rant but anyway)

I had this idea,,, what if the balance of the world had taken a different life in exchange for Arthur's birth? Someone who was also of great importance to Uther so he still develops his intense hatred of magic but,,, Ygraine survives. And she can't understand him because magic gave them a son, their beautiful little son and she tries to make him see sense but Uther doesn't want to hear any of it. The Great Purge still happens and she hates every moment of it. But she can't move against Uther so all she can do is teach Arthur better values, to help him see the goodness in it. Arthur grows up, still rather arrogant because he's Arthur, but he's more in touch with his emotions and a lot more gentle since he actually had a loving parental figure growing up. As for Morgana, Ygraine knows. She knows she's Uther's illegitimate daughter. Her husband never told her but she knows. She sees the longing in Uther's eyes when he gazes at her while she's sitting in Gorlois' lap. She sees the affection he shows her and the way his eyes light up when Morgana smiles at him, a look he usually only spares his son in rare moments. She can't help but resent the girl for it. For hogging his attention and affection when Uther already has a child, a legitimate child who wishes for his father's love. But when Gorlois dies and Morgana is brought to the castlegrounds as Uther's ward, Ygraine feels empathy for the little girl, who looks so broken and lost. She accepts that she is part of their life now. A few years pass. Ygraine watches Arthur and Morgana grow up. She appreciates their bond. Enjoys seeing them play together, dance together at feasts, seeing Arthur (if reluctantly) train sword fighting with Morgana (against Uther's explicit wishes) and actually losing against her a few times. She swiftly averts drama when both nervously ask her on seperate occasions if they would be forced to marry in the future. They seem relieved upon hearing that no, you two are going to be more like siblings. Because she definitely doesn't intend for them to try and fall in love, only to discover their blood relation later. She never really got too close to Morgana, because although she accepts her as part of the family, she's still reminded of the betrayal whenever she looks at her. But then one day, she notices the dark circles under the girl's eyes and her sickenly pale face and starts to worry. She questions Morgana's maid Gwen about her state - hearing about the increasingly worse nightmares and the sleeping draughts from Gaius which don't have much effect. She's concerned but doesn't understand the full severity until one night, she takes a stroll through the castle and hears Morgana's screams and finds her crying terribly, alone because Gwen's out of duty. Ygraine's motherly instincts kick in and she just sits down next to her, to hold her. Their relationship gets a lot better and closer after that. More than once, Ygraine would get woken up in the middle of the night by a sobbing Morgana and without hesitation, she'd jump out of bed. She'd take her hand and guide her wherever - sometimes back to her chambers, to stay with her until she calmed down and sometimes out into the castle gardens, enjoying the cool night air. Sometimes she'd hold her because of a particularly bad nightmare and sometimes she'd hold her because Morgana was terrified about the strange feelings she had for her maid and friend Gwen - Ygraine would then explain to her that it was okay, that it wasn't unnatural or wrong to like another girl that way. They'd also bond over other things - they'd giggle about Arthur, roll their eyes at Uther, walk around the market with Gwen. Slowly becoming more and more like mother and daughter.

Of course, Arthur wouldn't be forgotten though. She's still incredibly close to him, he's still her beautiful, golden boy and she never fails to make him feel loved or spare time for him. She never fails to notice when something's wrong. So she knows there's more to it when he bursts into the room one day, complaining about a commoner who had insulted him, even had the nerve to try and fight him. She's barely ever seen him this agitated and she can't help but smile because somehow she just knows her son actually likes this commoner wherever he wants to admit or not (wherever he himself even knows it yet or not). She meets said boy some time later at the feast. Merlin seems like a kind and good young man - and he saved her son, which is reason enough to like him already.

That same evening she has to listen to Arthur's enraged rant because how dare his father make this stupid fool his manservant? However already in the next days she's able to get him to say the words maybe he's not so bad after all. And latest after the events of the Poisoned Chalice, it's obvious that these two would go through hell and back for each other. And she's incredibly happy to see Arthur have that kind of bond to someone. That's why she doesn't say anything to Uther when she sees Merlin use magic. (Because let's be honest, that boy is terrible at hiding his magic, it's a surprise that not half of Camelot knows already). She feels obligated to let Merlin know she knows but also ensures him, she would keep it a secret for him. The good mood doesn't last all too long. Shortly after, Morgana admits fearfully that her nightmares have been coming true and Ygraine suspects the worst. She asks Gaius for help, and, both knowing each other's standpoint, gets the confirmation that they are caused by magic. She's hellbent on making sure Morgana doesn't feel alone, and has someone to talk to. Despite Gaius' protests, Ygraine tells Morgana about her gifts and reassures her that it doesn't have to be a bad thing. Morgana, while relieved about the support, isn't convinced - she doesn't feel safe, knowing Uther's view of magic. What follows are many, many fights between Uther and Ygraine. Whenever he as much as squints his eyes at the word magic, she explodes. She attempts to change his mind but really all it does is raise suspicion. Uther voices this suspicion, asking why she's suddenly so passionate about the topic. He knows she never agreed with the elimination of all magical beings but she's never been this vocal about it. He suspects that she's covering for someone and she'd like nothing more than to scream at him that yes, yes she is but it's not her place to say anything. What's sure is there are two people close to her family have magic and are in constant danger. And she decides she's finally putting an end to it. She changes her tactics. And after many discussions and countless attempts and most importantly, the admittance that she knew about his affair, she convinces Uther to tell Morgana the truth about her heritage and then to pubicly declare her as his own. To give Morgana a sense of security. Ygraine knows, no matter how many fights and arguments they've had in the past, Uther loves Morgana and if anyone could change his heart, it's her. So after some more comforting and encouraging, Morgana comes clean about her magic to Uther. He's obviously shocked and his first instinct is to push her away but Ygraine, at last, after over 20 years of persecution of magic, makes him see that it's about the person, not the power. That sorcery doesn't equal evil. And so, after more than 20 years, magic is legalised again. Arthur and Morgana are able to rejoice in being blood related and neither of them are infested with their father's hate. Merlin is able to come out about his magic and get accepted without being manipulated into making dumb choices by that giant lizard. Morgause wouldn't have a reason to act against the Pendragons anymore so she might just come to Camelot, simply to meet her half sister. All of them would lead happy lives. There'd still be obstacles because Uther is Uther and that won't change so aspects like the Round Table and "anyone can become a knight" would still have to wait until Arthur's king. But the time until that happens would be so much more peaceful. All because of a mother's love.

#merlin bbc #merlin #arthur pendragon #morgana pendragon #uther pendragon #ygraine pendragon #gwen pendragon

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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Nothing Wrong

Prompt: Writing prompt for Merlin (preferably time passes?): Modern Day everyone try to explain to Arthur how life works now and Arthur trying to get Merlin to therapy because JESUS DUDE and coming up with a somewhat workable alibi for what can essentially be called immortality angst. Hope you're having a lovely day!!

Thanks for the prompt, babe! This is part of a series over on my Ao3 but it can be read as a standalone

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2217

So it turns out that Merlin, to no one's surprise but his, could benefit from seeing a therapist.

“Thank you for coming in today, Mr. Emrys,” Dr. Lerchen says as Merlin sits down in the plush chair, “it’s good to meet you.”

“You as well, Dr. Lerchen.”

“Please, Melanie is fine.” Dr. Le—Melanie smiles and fixes her glasses. “I understand that you’ve never been to a therapist before?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Well, I’m happy to have you. May I ask what you’ve heard about therapy?”

“That it’s something I should definitely do.”

“Well, I make no judgments about that, but what else?”

Merlin hesitates. He’s never had someone who’s…paid to listen to him. Whose job it is to help him sort through the mess in his brain. It feels…counterintuitive.

Melanie nods when he says as much. “You’re not the first person who feels a little awkward asking a therapist for help. Nor are you the first to think you don’t actually need it.”

Merlin blinks. “I didn’t say that.”

“No—“ Melanie gives him a look— “but am I right?”

He fidgets in the chair.

“You don’t have to answer me if you don’t want to,” she says after a moment, “but I want to reassure you that you don’t need to have a reason to see a therapist.”

“I don’t?”

She shrugs. “Some people see me because they’re having issues at work that they’re struggling to manage. Some people see me because they’ve got mental issues they need help with. And some people see me because they’ve never actually had someone to talk to.”

“…really?”

Melanie smiles. “Yes, Mr. Emrys. You don’t have to need therapy to have therapy.”

A weight begins to lift off his shoulders. Judging by Melanie’s smile, she can see it. She sits back in her chair too and tilts her head.

“Is that all this is,” Merlin murmurs, mostly to himself, “is this…therapy?”

“Well, I’m not sure if it’s as easy to tell from the two minutes you’ve been here,” she laughs, “but…yes. I ask questions, and if you like, you answer them. Or we simply talk. About…whatever you’d like.”

“Whatever I like?”

“Believe me, I’ve spent sessions discussing nothing but movies and favorite colors.”

“With children?”

“With adults.” She gestures between them. “I’m here to provide the support you need to work through things. Does that sound alright?”

“…yes,” Merlin breathes, “that sounds…that sounds great.”

“Wonderful. May I ask you a few questions about why you’re here today?”

“Yes.”

“Do you mind if I write them down?”

Merlin shakes his head and she retrieves a notepad.

“In your request for an appointment, you mentioned that you’d been referred to me by a friend of yours?”

“Yes, um, Leon Camlynn.”

“Ah, yes, I see.” She makes a note. “Had you been discussing therapy with him prior to the referral?”

“You should try it, Merlin,” Leon says encouragingly as Arthur sits down on the couch, “it’s just talking.”

“I’ve had experience with therapy before, Leon.”

“Not like this,” Leon promises, his eyes shining with the understanding of what type of ‘therapy’ Merlin’s been put through, “I promise.”

Merlin sighs. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine, Leon, I—“

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupts softly, “I think you should try it. Just once, at least.”

He doesn’t blink at Merlin’s look of betrayal.

“Leon says it helps him, and maybe it’ll help you too.”

“There is so much between us already,” Leon says softly, drawing Merlin’s attention again, “so much history—“

“So why would I want to talk to someone that I’d have to explain things to?”

“—that you might not be able to talk about it with us,” Leon finishes, “and you’d only have to explain as much as you were comfortable with.”

Merlin sighs. “I don’t believe you. There’s—I—I can’t—my—hmm.”

“You don’t have to explain everything all the time, Merlin,” Leon says, “and you definitely won’t have to during the first session.”

“I agree,” Melanie says, patiently writing things down, “I’m not here to pressure you into telling me things you’re not comfortable with, nor am I going to tell you what to do.”

“He said that I should get used to talking to someone.” Merlin toys with the end of his shirt. “Someone that wasn’t…him.”

Melanie nods. “How long has it been? Since you spoke to someone other than Leon?”

1500 years. “…a while.”

“And is Leon your closest friend? Do you have anyone else?”

“I know people at work, I talk to them, they drag me out for pub nights. But Leon’s my only…friend-friend, really.”

“I see.” She looks back at the appointment record. “It says here you’re also considering whether or not you have some sort of PTSD?”

Damnit, Leon.

“…yes.”

“You needn’t tell me anything you feel uncomfortable telling me,” Melanie reminds, “but whatever you do tell me will be useful in how I can help you.”

Merlin can’t help glancing at the door.

“Doctor-patient confidentiality,” comes the quiet reassurance, “nothing you say will leave this room.”

He takes a deep, slow breath. He hasn’t talked about this to anyone. Not even Arthur. Not really. There are so many secrets that no one knows that he doesn’t know how to tell one without telling all of them.

“Pick something small,” Melanie suggests when he says as much, “something innocuous. A memory, perhaps, one that makes you happy.”

“Come on, Merlin, this way!”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur drags him through the woods. “Whatever creature you’re hunting is going to hear us coming from yards away, as you’re so fond of telling me.”

“We’re not hunting Merlin, now come on!”

“Then why are we out in the middle of the woods for no reason? And why am I carrying all this food?”

Arthur bursts through the edge of the woods into a clearing, spinning around with a blinding smile. “We’re having a picnic.”

Merlin blanches. “A what?”

“A picnic, Merlin,” Arthur repeats, taking the basket from him, “we’re going to sit down and eat.”

And they did, in the field, as butterflies flew around their heads.

“That sounds lovely,” Melanie says, smiling, “and how long ago was this?”

Merlin’s smile dims. “A long time.”

“Was it near where you grew up?”

“No, no, it was…quite far away. I, um, I grew up in a smaller village and went away to a big city to work.”

“Was it hard, being away from your family for such a long period of time?”

He misses his mother’s smile.

He misses the smell of the barn when he walks outside—not the big, Camelot stables, but their little barn with the cinnamon and cloves stuffed into the corners to keep the old donkey happy.

He misses Will, the shouts and yells of the other boys as they rush up and down the streets.

He misses the old man’s warbling in the late night as he walked back and forth with the lantern, putting out the lights on his market stall.

“I’d never been farther than walking distance away from my home,” he says quietly, examining his hands, “so it was…hard to adjust.”

“I’m sure. Did you go back to visit them ever?”

“The winters are harsh in Ealdor,” his mother says, pleading in front of the tightly Uther Pendragon, “and there are many children. Some of them just won't be strong enough to survive. We barely have enough food as it is, and if Kanen takes our harvest, our children won't live to see another summer. Please, we need your help.”

“Ealdor's in Cenred's kingdom,” Uther says dismissively, “your safety is his responsibility.”

“We've appealed to our King, but he cares little for the outlying regions. You're our only hope.”

Uther regards his mother with what can only be described as forced pity. “I have the deepest sympathy for you and would have this barbarian wiped off the face of the earth.”

“You'll help us?”

“I wish I could.”

Perhaps sensing Merlin’s dismay, Arthur speaks up. “Surely we can spare a few men?”

“…once.”

Melanie tilts her head. “You sound sad.”

“…my friend died when I went back,” Merlin says, “he…I’d known him since I was a little boy. He was…important to me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” And she does sound genuinely sorry, Merlin realizes, as she leans forward. “What was his name?”

“Will.”

“Will,” she repeats, “I’m sorry he passed.”

Merlin shrugs. Out of all the people he’s lost, he can’t afford to hurt over all of them all the time.

“What did you do afterward?”

“I went back to work.”

Melanie blinks. “Just like that? No time off, no time to grieve?”

“…where I come from, that wasn’t really a thing.”

“…I see.”

Merlin shifts. “Is something wrong?”

“People need time to process things,” she says, “to reconcile what’s happened in order to learn how to live with it. And if you weren’t given that time…”

“It wasn’t the most pressing thing on my mind.”

That gives her pause. She raises an eyebrow and nods for him to continue. Merlin fidgets a little in the chair.

“…I have a secret,” he says finally, “one that Will died to protect for me.”

She makes a soft noise.

“I couldn’t tell anyone,” Merlin continues, staring at a spot on the carpet, “it—they would’ve—“

He breaks off. He hasn’t thought about his magic like this for centuries. He hasn’t thought about his magic for decades. He hasn’t actually looked at himself for…a long time.

He’s been hiding for almost as long as he can remember.

“What would they have done,” Melanie prompts softly.

“Killed me.” Merlin looks up. “They would’ve killed me.”

To her credit, Melanie doesn’t look shocked. Instead, she smiles softly.

“No one will kill you for a secret, Mr. Emrys, not on my watch.”

That shouldn’t make him feel as warm as it does, but he finds his own mouth turning up into a smile.

“Does your family know your secret?”

“My mother did. My father…yes, he knew.”

“Does Leon know?”

“Yes.”

“Anyone else?”

Merlin hesitates. “Yes. Yes, someone else knows. Even though I…I didn’t…I didn’t tell him when I should have.”

“You’re the only one who gets to make that decision,” Melanie reassures, “no one else.”

“But he felt so betrayed when I didn’t tell him. He was…he was angry with me.”

“You’ve lied to me. You’ve lied all this time.”

Merlin can’t quite hear his heart crack in two, but he can feel it.

“Why did you decide to tell him?”

Merlin shrugs. “He was going to get hurt if I didn’t show—if I didn’t tell him.”

“Hurt?”

“He…”

Ygraine, his mother, gone on the day of his birth because of magic.

Uther, turned bitter and cynical, making enemies upon enemies of magic while hoarding it for his own selfish purposes.

Morgana, his own sister, twisted and tortured by Uther, by Arthur, by Merlin, until she was barely recognizable.

Arthur had lost so much to magic that Merlin can’t bear to give him something else to lose.

“…he’s already been hurt by it,” Merlin says, shutting his eyes, “I didn’t want to hurt him too.”

“What happened to him?”

“He—“

Mordred steps out from behind a rock and walks toward Arthur, he raises his sword...

Arthur either hears him or sees his reflection in a sword on the ground. He stands and blocks the attack, he goes to stab and stops, realizing it's Mordred. Mordred stabs him and withdraws the sword, fatally wounding him.

Arthur goes to a knee.

Merlin can’t find the breath to scream.

“Merlin. There is nothing you can do.”

“I’ve failed?

“No, young warlock, for all that you have dreamt of building, has come to pass.”

“I can't lose him! He's my friend!”

“Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold, Merlin...Arthur is not just a King-he is the Once and Future King.”

Once and Forever.

“Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again.”

Merlin. Merlin is all that’s left.

“It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock-the story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men.”

1500 years…

“Merlin? Merlin!”

He’s back.

“…he went away. For a very long time.”

“And now?”

Despite everything, Merlin finds himself smiling. “He’s my flatmate.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Melanie says softly, smiling too, “you two deserve your soft epilogue.”

Wait, what?

“I’m afraid that’s all we have the time for today, Mr. Emrys,” Melanie says, standing and holding out her hand for him to shake, “but I’d be happy to set up another appointment.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” Merlin says, scrambling to his feet and shaking her hand, “and please, Merlin’s fine.”

“Merlin.” Her handshake is firm, grounding. “Be in touch.”

“I will.”

“And one last thing,” she calls as he goes to leave, “there is nothing wrong with being gay, Merlin.”

Wait, what?

#Merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merthur #merthur fic #fic #dragonbabbles

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

Another Warlock?

Leon cries a lot, Merlin is protective, and Arthur has to confront the cruelty of his Kingdom’s justice system.

To say that Gaius was surprised when Sir Leon burst into the Physician’s chambers late one evening, pale and sweaty and shaking, one hand shielding his eyes and one hand supporting himself on the door frame, would be a VAST understatement.

He goes to rush forward, not able to recall a single time he’s ever seen the normally incredibly put together man look so shaken, but the way Leon almost falls back in his effort to keep his distance stops him in his tracks.

His breathing is deep and dangerously fast, but before Gaius can call for help or demand the knight tell him what’s wrong, his voice comes out, rushed and cracking and desperate:

“Merlin?? Gaius, where’s Merlin, I... I need Merlin.”

In his shock, both at Leon’s whole terrified demeanour, and the tears he can now see dripping down the other man’s cheeks, he answers without thinking:

“At this time he’ll be in The King’s chambers. My boy are you sure there’s nothing I can-”

Before the physician can finish, Leon bolts from the room, the door swinging shut behind him as he stumbles his way down the corridor as quickly as he can, thinking of nothing but how much he needs Merlin.

His brain fails to make the connection between “The King’s chambers” and “Arthur”, and the knight sprints through the halls, bruising shoulders and elbows on doorframes as his sight is blurred by tears and a shaking hand.

Gaius considers following to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself, but the man is very private, the type to never share his troubles. The physician decides to check in on Arthur’s chambers in a candle mark or so, just to make sure that no one needs any treatment or enforced bedrest; he settles back onto the bench, resuming his previous task with half his mind focused on how terrified Sir Leon had looked, and trying not to worry too much.

Arthur was sat at his desk, forehead resting on his hand as he tried to force himself into reading just one more page of the month’s food inventory report. It was boring stuff, but he was King, this had to be done. Uther had never bothered, but Arthur’s head had been filled with ideas on how to better redistribute food since long before he became King, so he never gave up an opportunity to double-check the reports.

Merlin was settled at his dining table across the room, carefully polishing each of Arthur’s many blades. His sword was the first to be done, but Arthur had rather pettily demanded that Merlin also see to the various daggers and knives that The King usually kept hidden around his room, despite the fact that none of the had been used in the three months since Merlin had last cleaned them.

Frankly, Arthur had started to find Merlin’s quiet grumbling a pleasant background noise; he always seemed to be able to concentrate better when in the other man’s presence. Despite Arthur’s boredom and headache, and Merlin’s exhaustion and aching hands, there’s nowhere else either of them would rather be.

The King had just about given up on getting anymore work done; it was late, and he had to give in to the idea that his headache was only going to get worse, so he organised the papers into rough piles on the desk and lent back in his chair, hands folded in his lap as he blinks up at the ceiling. He looks down just in time to make eye contact with Merlin, and he returns the man’s soft smile before he can stop himself.

Merlin raises an eyebrow, almost certainly about to say something scathing about Arthur’s Kingly Mask slipping in the evening, but before he can utter even a word, the main door slams open with a crash, bouncing off the wall loudly.

Arthur stands quickly, tensing when he realises that the sword normally hidden under his desk is currently on the other side of the room with Merlin. The servant already has a dagger expertly held in one of his hands as he moves around the table to see who had burst in, and Arthur makes a mental note to make sure Merlin knows how to use it properly at later date.

The King goes to rush around the desk, but a sharp intake of breath from Merlin as he drops the knife on the table and holds a firm hand out to him, undoubtedly telling him to stay where he is, stops him in his tracks. Arthur trusts Merlin, despite not being able to see whoever it was that had practically broken the door down.

Arthur blinks in surprise when he sees an unarmoured Leon stumble round the corner, hand over his eyes and shaking as he calls Merlin’s name, his voice cracking as tears stream down his pale cheeks. Arthur gulps and goes to move towards him, but finds himself frozen when Leon collapses to his knees, both hands now clamped tightly over his eyes as his sobs become audible. Merlin rushes to him, falling to the floor in front of the knight and taking his wrists in soft hands, not even bothering to look to Arthur as he focuses all of his attention on the distraught man.

“Leon? Leon you need to tell me what’s wrong, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Arthur marvels at the way Merlin’s voice wavers only slightly, though quickly reminds himself that the now fully-fledged physician was used to dealing with panicking patients, it’s just Leon that he’s not used to panicking.

Leon’s breathing is deep and uneven, and Merlin moves one of his hands to the back of the knight’s head as he stutters out a frantic:

“Merlin, I... please- I need help... please make it stop, I don’t- I don’t know how to make it stop, please.”

Merlin frowns, trying to calm his own breathing as he runs his desperate gaze over the knight’s body, trying to figure out what was wrong, but it’s Arthur’s sharp gasp and muttered "what the fuck...” that has him look up.

What he sees makes it decidedly harder to keep calm.

The pillow that Arthur had thrown at him that morning was floating a few feet off the ground, as was a vase of flowers by the (thankfully swung shut) door. The flames in the lit hearth were colourful and jumping, filling with odd shapes and seeming to shiver in time with Leon’s panicked wheezing, and the curtains were shaking in a wind that wasn’t there.

Merlin gulps and curses to himself quietly before looking back down to Leon, grabbing his wrists and trying to pry his hands away from his eyes:

“Leon, I need you to look at me. Everything’s going to be ok, but I need you to look at me right now.”

Arthur is still frozen in place, hand twitching by his hip as he subconsciously reaches for his absent sword.

Merlin still ignores him, rubbing his thumbs over Leon’s wrists softly as he carefully pulls his hands forward. Leon finally gives in, letting Merlin hold his hands close to his chest, shutting his eyes tightly and struggling to draw breath:

“Open your eyes, Leon. I promise that you're safe, ok? I promise I won’t let anyone hurt you, but I need to see.”

Leon shakes his head slightly and whimpers, and Merlin glances over the knight’s shoulder as a loud pop sounds from the fire. The servant moves one of his hands back to Leon’s hair, stroking slightly as he asks him to open his eyes again, trying to keep his voice soft even in his panic. The older man finally complies, and Merlin clenches his jaw to stop himself from gasping at the gold of Leon’s irises.

Merlin glances behind him briefly, but is grateful to see Arthur’s bewildered gaze focused on the floating pillow rather than Leon, and looks back to him with a soft smile on his face, laying the knight’s hand flat over his chest as he speaks:

“I need you to calm down, ok? Everything’s going to be ok, there’s nothing wrong with you, and I won’t let anyone come anywhere near you. We’ll figure it out, but I need you to take deep breaths ok? Can you manage that?-”

Leon nods slightly, leaning forward and pressing his hand into Merlin’s chest as he pushes his forehead into the servant’s shoulder. His breathing slows slightly, and Merlin is grateful to feel the hitches in his breath grow less erratic:

“-That’s it, just one breath after another, ok? You’re absolutely fine, Leon, I’ll keep you safe, just breathe.”

It takes a few minutes of Merlin’s soft words and quiet encouragement, but he’s grateful to see the fire die down to a normal size, the curtains stilling, and everything that had been floating drop to the floor. He’s relieved when the vase lands softly, knowing that a loud crash at this point would probably just set the shaking knight off again.

Though he definitely tenses at Arthur’s outburst:

“What the fuck?!”

Leon falls back onto his hands, scrambling back and staring in terror over Merlin’s shoulder towards the befuddled King. Arthur recoils slightly at the fear on Leon's face, but before he can react, Merlin jumps up, leaping forward to grab Arthur’s sword from the table and twirling it expertly in his hand as he moves in to a defensive position in front of Leon’s still-cowering form:

“I won’t let you hurt him, Arthur. You'd have to kill me before I let you lay a hand on him.”

Leon stands on shaky legs, desperate to stop Merlin from putting himself in any danger, but his fear stops him from doing anything other than grip the back of the servant’s tunic in shivering hands. Arthur just looks even more confused, his wide-eyed stare moving between the terrified knight and angry servant:

“What are you talking about?? Will one of you please tell me what just happened?!”

Leon sniffles quietly, tugging on Merlin’s shirt lightly, but Merlin just holds a hand out to the side, gesturing for Leon to stay behind him and keep quiet as he strengthens the grip on his sword:

“It would seem, Sire, that Leon was born with a touch of magic, and it’s just made its first appearance. Like I said, You’d have to kill me before I let you hurt him just for existing.”

Arthur takes in a sharp breath and Leon whimpers slightly, but Merlin just squares his shoulders even more and adjusts his grip, glancing to the other weapons on the table. He knows he probably couldn’t take Arthur in a swordfight, but he rapidly comes to the conclusion that he would happily out his own magic if it was the only way to protect his friend.

Arthur holds his hands out placatingly, but doesn’t make any moves towards the table or Merlin and Leon, speaking slowly, despite the clear worry and suspicion in his voice:

“Merlin, you can’t be born with magic. So just explain what’s happening, the truth this time. If he’s been cursed or something, then we’ll fix it, no one’s going to hurt him.”

Merlin snarls slightly. Before, when Arthur’s backwards views and misunderstandings about magic had just affected him, it just made him sad. Now they were putting Leon in danger, doing nothing but making his friend even more scared, he found that they made him angry:

“With all due resect, Arthur, are you really going to trust whatever shit Uther told you about magic?? Has it never occurred to you that any and all information on sorcery in this Godforsaken Kingdom is censored, or just straight up wrong? I’m telling you, it is entirely possible to be born with magic.”

Arthur’s expression morphs to one of anger, and Leon pulls on Merlin’s tunic again, trying to get him to step back. The servant just reaches behind him, squeezing Leon’s wrist briefly and holding his position as Arthur grinds out:

“Magic is evil, Merlin, it corrupts.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes harshly, tightening his grip on the sword once again as he argues:

“Yeah? Well this magic has been inside Leon his entire life. Do you think it possible to be born evil? Do you think Leon was born evil? Do you think he’s been evil all his life and just not known it? Or do you think he suddenly, a few minutes ago when his magic first manifested itself, made the switch from good to evil? Look at him, Arthur,-”

Merlin steps to the side slightly, gesturing vaguely at an almost-hyperventilating, still-crying Leon behind him:

“-he’s fucking terrified because his head has been filled with lies and he thinks one of his closest friends is going to strap him to a pyre just for existing. At which point I feel the need to remind you that if you want to burn Leon, you’re going to have to burn me right alongside him.”

Leon’s teary eyes widen and he tugs on Merlin’s shirt again, his voice quiet and cracking:

“Merlin, no, you can’t-”

Merlin shakes his head, not looking away from the shocked King as he strongly says:

“I can, and I will. I promised you I would keep you safe, and that’s what I intend to do. I think it’s time Arthur learns the truth.”

Arthur is taken aback at Merlin’s protectiveness at first, but quickly bristles at his words, tensing and narrowing his eyes as he says:

“And how would you know all about magic, Merlin, you’ve never seemed to take an interest in it before, never bothered correcting me before.”

Merlin looks at The King like he’s an idiot, eyebrows raised and mouth open, freezing like that for a moment of two before he speaks incredulously:

“Are you serious?? I grew up outside of Camelot, where accurate information about magic is far more readily available. I know a hell of a lot more about sorcery than you, I just don’t talk about it because your head is full of lies and you’re a stubborn prat.”

Arthur takes in a deep breath, his face falling into a worrying mix of confusion and sadness. His eyes dart around slightly and his hands twitch as he thinks, obviously trying to come to some sort of conclusion that makes sense in his head.

He looks up suddenly, freezing once again as he stares at Leon, only just now seeming to notice how terrified he looks. How terrified Leon, the only swordsman Arthur has ever met who can consistently beat him, one of his closest friends and most trust advisors, a man seven years his senior who had always supported him and offered advice... how terrified that man looks. Of Arthur.

Merlin relaxes his posture slightly, lowering the sword as he stares at Arthur with a slight suspicious frown on his face. Leon breaks Arthur’s stare, gaze darting to the weapons on the table before he glances briefly to the door.

Arthur’s face falls even further, looking just a tad horrified that Leon thought Arthur was going to attack him, that Leon though he might have to make a run for it. The King finally looks over to Merlin, his eyes wide and tears gathering as he takes a staggered step back, his voice barely above a whisper:

“How... how was my father so....”

His words trail off and Merlin lowers his sword fully, letting out a gentle huff of air as he raises a mournful eyebrow:

“Wrong?”

Arthur nods, and Merlin takes in a deep breath, sighing as he tries to decide just how truthful to be:

“Magic... magic killed his wife. He ignored the warnings, didn’t consider the consequences, and was blinded by fear and hatred and a need for revenge, a need for someone to blame.”

Leon takes in a surprised breath at the same time as Arthur, and The King takes another step back, leaning tiredly against his desk as he stares at the floor, muttering:

“The apparition of my mother was real, then?”

Merlin shakes his head, taking a step towards him but still keeping his distance, hyper aware of Leon still stood behind him:

“I don’t know whether the apparition was real or fake, but it... it was telling the truth, I think.”

Arthur nods absent-mindedly, frowning at his feet for a few moments, the silence heavy and tense on everyone’s shoulders. Merlin can’t help but feel a spark of hope in his chest; was this it?? Was this when things changed?

The King looks up again, hands clenched tightly and tears still gathering in his eyes as he stares at Merlin:

“Merlin... how many- if people can be born with magic, if it isn’t actually evil, if it just... is, how many... how many innocent people have died, have been hunted, burned?-”

Arthur takes a few steps towards his friends, letting out an incredulous, almost manic laugh as he runs his hands through his hair roughly:

“-How many innocent people have I killed, just for existing?”

Merlin sighs and shakes his head, finally dropping the sword back onto the table and closing the gap between the two of them, putting a strong hand on The King’s shoulder:

“You can’t think like that, Arthur, you were just following orders, you didn’t know any better.”

Arthur meets Merlin’s gaze, rapidly blinking away the tears as he mumbles:

“You managed, Leon evidently managed.”

Merlin frowns again and shakes his head, looking back to Leon in confusion:

“Hmm. I grew up outside of Camelot, remember. Leon however... the magic inside Witches and Warlocks tends to manifest in the teen years. I mean, it can happen earlier or later, but you’re, what? Thirty?”

Leon gives him a weak smile and raises an eyebrow:

“Thirty-five.”

Merlin’s frown just deepens as he looks Leon up and down. The knight drops his smile and gulps, not understanding the problem as Arthur sidesteps the servant:

“Witches and Warlocks?”

Merlin hums absent-mindedly, still staring at Leon:

“People with natural, instinctive magic. Sorcerers and sorceresses are people who study it, they’re taught it from scratch, like you were taught how to use a sword. Witches and Warlocks are born with an innate ability.”

Arthur nods, but finally notices Merlin’s confused stare and Leon’s uneasy frown:

“What is it, Merlin? Is Leon... ok?”

Merlin shakes himself out of his stupor, blinking in surprise and looking between the two concerned men:

“Oh! Yeah, I’m just... why now?? For your first outburst, that was pretty weak, especially considering how freaked out you were, so you obviously don’t have all that much natural magic, so why did it take an extra twenty years to make itself known?”

Leon just shrugs his shoulders slightly but Arthur blinks his eyes in surprise and steps away slightly:

“You really do know a lot about magic, don’t you?”

Merlin nods again, looking just a little embarrassed as he shrugs and runs a hand through his hair before turning back to Leon and pushing him to sit at the table. Merlin sits next to him, twisting in his chair slightly to face the still tense knight, and Arthur sits slowly opposite him, clearly waiting for some sort of explanation or... something.

Merlin continues to stare at Leon, evidently trying to figure something out, and he takes a deep breath before slowly mumbling:

“Something must’ve changed.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, gesturing vaguely for Merlin to continue:

“I mean... magic has strict rules, even seemingly random instinctive magic works in specific ways. There has to be a reason that yours has suddenly decided to come out and play. So... what changed? Why did your magic stop hiding?”

Leon scoffs slightly and sits back in his chair, all of a sudden realising how tired he is but still being unable to untense:

“I... you talk about... magic, as if it’s sentient.”

Merlin smiles slightly, fondly almost:

“It is, in a way. Not so much for regular sorcerers, but for people with instinctive magic, you don’t... control it, you ask it, you work with it. It will react to your needs and wants and emotions, it’s part of you, but it’s also... separate. It will try and protect you and the people you care about, without you even realising sometimes. Maybe... maybe that’s what happened.”

Leon fiddles with his hands in his lap roughly, picking the skin at his nails as he gulps:

“What do you mean, maybe what happened?”

Merlin smiles, taking Leon’s hands in his own and raising a disapproving eyebrow at the blood just started to seep through old scabs:

“Maybe it was protecting you, keeping you safe. Held itself inside until... I don’t know, it was safer?”

Arthur finally pipes in then, interrupting Merlin’s verbalised stream of thought:

“But it wasn’t. Granted, I haven’t executed many people, but I’ve been King for years, and up until five minutes ago I was still under the impression that magic was evil.”

Merlin shook his head:

“No, not safety from you... safety from Leon.-”

Leon recoils slightly and Arthur frowns in confusion:

“-Something about you changed. Your... views on magic?”

Merlin tilts his head as he says it, obviously asking, and the knight bites his lip, gaze darting between the two men nervously. Arthur just gives him a smile and nods encouragingly. Leon shuffles in his seat uncomfortably, not making eye contact with either of them as he quietly speaks:

“A few months ago I... saw someone do magic, in the castle. I was angry at first, but it seemed so... innocent. It didn’t hurt anyone, it had no consequence, it was just... it looked natural.”

The knight finally looks up again and Merlin nods knowingly, making a mental note to find out who was stupid enough to use magic in the-

...

He notices the pointed way Leon is looking at him, and he scraps that mental note in favour of making a new one, reminding himself to thank Leon later for not immediately killing him.

Merlin bites his lip and Leon rolls his eyes slightly, but before either of them can say anything, Arthur leans across the table, patting Leon on the shoulder comfortingly before sitting back and nodding to himself. He clears his throat and bites his lip as the two of them look to him nervously:

“I’m... curious. Of all people.... why Merlin? You had no idea that he knew so much about magic, you discover that you have magic, and the first person you rush to, you trust, you believe will protect you in a Kingdom that would see you burn... is Merlin. Why?”

Leon gulps, his gaze darting to the young servant, and Merlin widens his eyes slightly before setting his face into well-practiced neutrality and looking back to Arthur:

“Well, like I said, I grew up outside of Camelot’s propaganda.”

Arthur tilts his head and furrows his brows:

“Yes... but so did Percival and Gwaine and Lancelot. And he grew up with Elyan and Gwen, so...”

Merlin clenches his jaw, his brain running through all the possible lies he could tell. Depending on how the rest of this conversation goes, now may or may not be the time to out his own magic:

“Well... look at me-”

He throws his arms up loosely:

“-I’m one of the only people he knows who couldn’t actually do much damage to him if I turned on him. He’s a Camelot Noble Arthur, pretty much all of his friends and family would run him through in an instant if they found out what was happening to him.”

Arthur frowns mournfully, but his nod is understanding as he stares at the table for a few moments. He squares his shoulders and looks up again, his voice strong and Kingly:

“We have some laws to revise. Tomorrow, the three of us are going to visit the Druids, we can leave Leon there for a little while so he can learn to control it at least. I’m sure we can come up with some sort of excuse.”

Leon nods, but Merlin takes a deep breath before shaking his head:

“That... that won’t be necessary.”

Arthur just frowns at him in confusion, but Leon’s eyes go wide as he stares at the servant, taking his wrist in a tight grip; a clear warning. Merlin just gives him a weak smile before sitting up straight and looking to Arthur, his face blank:

“I can teach him.”

Arthur just looks even more confused, before he huffs and rolls his eyes:

“Merlin you may have an odd amount of knowledge in that big head of yours, but it would still be better for someone who was born with magic like him to help.”

Merlin doesn’t even hesitate in his response:

“Exactly.”

Arthur looks up at him sharply, taking in a deep breath and straightening his back when he notices the gold of Merlin’s eyes. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Merlin’s eyes have faded back to their bright blue before Arthur sighs and nods, not looking away as he mumbles:

“I think... that somehow I should’ve expected that.-”

The King leans forwards and puts his head in his hands, leaning his elbows on the table; he lets out a short, humourless laugh, and Merlin and Leon share a worried glance. Before they can say anything, he looks up again, a disbelieving smile on his face:

“-I’m desperate to be angry, furious, even. But after everything I’ve said, done, directly to you and in general, I really don’t think I have the right.”

Merlin shakes his head, anxiety and guilt swelling in his stomach:

“No Arthur, I lied to you for over ten years, you’re allowed to be angry.”

Arthur shakes his head again, but before he can say anything, Leon pipes up, his voice strong and no longer cracking and shaking, despite his obvious nervousness:

“That... No. With all due respect, Sire, you’re right.-”

He turns to a dumbfounded Merlin:

“-You lied because it was the only way to protect yourself. By Camelot’s laws, you- both of us, should have had death sentences from the moment we were born. Lying to save yourself torture by pyre... that isn’t selfish, or cruel, it’s... justice.”

Merlin looks like he wants to argue, but Arthur just shrugs his shoulders and nods, giving his servant a pointed glare before going back to looking curiously confused, and settling an assessing gaze on Leon:

“Can you... feel it? The magic?”

Leon shuffles uncomfortably in his seat, and squeezes Merlin’s hand in his subconscious search for comfort:

“Uh... yeah sort of. Honestly, I’m trying not to, it... it scares me.”

Merlin squeezes back before swivelling in his seat and pulling Leon to do the same, so they’re sat facing each other; Arthur leans forward so he can see what Merlin was fiddling with. The servant cups his hands and rests them under Leon’s own cupped hands, looking up to the older man with a smile:

“It’s not something to be afraid of, Leon, it’s a gift. Let go, feel it. I promise I won’t let anything bad happen. Just... feel it.”

Leon gulps, but lets out a breath and relaxes as he closes his eyes. Merlin’s grin grows, and Arthur stares in wonder at the golden glow of his eyes, his gaze darting to Leon’s face when the man begins to softly smile. Merlin’s next words come out as barely a whisper:

“Open your eyes, look.”

Leon takes another deep breath before opening his golden eyes and looking down at his hands, letting out a surprised laugh when he sees a miniature blue flame, floating a few inches above his palms. He can feel it’s warmth, feel the new odd sensation in his chest feeding it, sparking down his arms and into the flame, mixing with something that feels so very... Merlin. He looks up at the grinning servant, not able to persuade himself to look towards the King even when he hears the other man mutter, his voice quiet and full of wonder:

“A gift indeed.”

THE END!!!

Ok so I might write a part 2 to this, basically about Merlin teaching Leon in secret (with Gwaine and Lancelot getting jealous because how the fuck did boring, rule following, 8 years older than him Leon end up becoming Merlin’s best friend??) and a visit to the Druids and a ban repeal and a proper reveal.

BUT it isn’t a definite, and if it does happen it won’t be any time soon, so I guess just consider this done?

I hope y’all enjoyed it!! Same as always, you wanna write it up, let me know and credit and tag me!! :D

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