#hey so fuckin for real i havent written fanfiction in years

[youdgetbored]

Last day for @merlintarotfest !yikes. (6 pages I think)

Rating: general

Summary: merthur hurt/comfort

Title: Always

Justice 

King of pentacles 

Ace of wands

Arthur was always making a decision. He sits at a wooden table, arms clasped in front of him. A choice must be made, today no different from any other.

As a prince he hardly thought about the balance of the world. Then the day came when he was king.

Every life in the kingdom rested on his shoulders. Each threat of war, of strife, of disaster, it was up to the king to ensure the safety of those who could not fend for themselves. With the crown laid against his brow, Arthur made no decision lightly. But had he ever truly? Sure, jousts and tournaments didn’t weigh on his mind. His fathers temper was a different story. Growing up alongside Morgana's rebellious spirit meant at the drop of a hat, he had to be at her side. As a son who had experienced Uther’s rage firsthand, he knew it was nothing to be trifled with.

So when was the responsibility truly his? Nearly his whole life decided for him before he could walk, when was the gavel placed in his hands? Arthur could not say. The day his eyes opened to it was a different story.

A story that began in his sleep.

Groggy eyed, covered in webs with the rest of the dining room guests, a dagger flew to his chest. To pierce his beating heart, stop him dead.

When the physician's ward threw himself in front of the weapon.

The boy he had bullied, thrown in jail. He’d nearly taken his head off with a mace, yet Arthur lived because of him. 

The two had become an unusual pair. Camelot knights say they saw the change immediately. Arthur openly siding with a servant over a royal, based only on their word. He risked death to find a cure for a poisoned cup. He disobeyed the law to save a young boy, something only the Druids knew. The qualities of a king were always in him. Decisions made of necessity and fairness, of what was deserved. Death or disgrace was never something he ever feared. Yes, he awoke that day in the dining hall. But it would be later that he found himself to be the judge and the accused in one verdict.

When he found himself on the shore sat across from his servant.

Sat across from Merlin.

Merlin, who he had told to stay home, away from trouble. The pesky servant who didn’t know how to polish armor, who struggled to lift a sword. The boy who had saved his life. Arthur owed him a life debt. To pay it, was only just.

Merlin sits across from him now. It was only hours ago that Gaius was faced with tending to both of their injuries in this very room. Lanterns flicker in their silence, illuminating his shadowed eyes. For a brief moment, Arthur pictures the ember dragon Merlin had conjured the night before. He lets out a deep sigh, a life debt.

***

Gaius has always been a caretaker. Working under King Uther took patience. Gaius did not miss those days, and thank the old gods, Arthur was nothing like his father. 

The day that Arthur learned the truth about Merlin's magic, Gaius hoped he would not see Uthers eyes in his king.

Arthur's sword swung viciously at the raiders. Camelot had been attacked, and the enemy was unrelenting. The knights pressed on, determined to fight. Gaius tended to the wounded in a makeshift hospital, the Citadel already overrun. Gwen stood close by, defending him and his patients. He risked a glance outside to see Arthur take down another enemy. The king fought through his injuries, but Gaius had practically raised Arthur. It was obvious his energy waned. 

Merlin's shout drew both of their attentions. Arthurs head whipped to the side in time to see a soldier with blonde hair shove Merlin to the ground. His head collided with a wooden barrel, the sword he held clattering out of his grasp. He rolled to the side. Had his reaction time been any slower, the spear that came down on his shoulder would have been an injury that Gaius couldn’t cure.

An agonizing cry split through the air. Gaius moved forward without thinking, leaving Gwen behind. He stayed close to the buildings as he ran. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Arthur abandon his current fight, his only concern for Merlin. They ran, Arthur much faster than Gaius’s old bones, decades of labor slowing him down. He had a clear sight of Merlin now, still on the ground but fighting. His attacker wrenched the spear out of his shoulder causing another howl. Merlin kicked with all his might, and the man let out his own yell before falling to one knee.

Gaius was almost there, huffing and sore and almost there. He readied a spell in his mind. Without practice there was no certainty it would work, there were witnesses that he couldn't prevent. The king himself was running towards the same goal. But this was Merlin, and as he saw a second enemy round the corner towards his boy, he had to do something. 

He felt the explosion before he heard it. On Gaius’s left a force pushed him off his feet, his collision with the ground unstoppable. A ringing overtook his ears while he blinked back tears. He tried to pry himself off the gravel with no luck, and he felt the gold in his eyes fade. There would be no magic from him today. Prying his eyes off the ground he found Merlin, and thank the old religion, Arthur had made it to his side.

Merlin was still injured, his right hand pressed firmly against his left shoulder. The man who stabbed him lay limp at his feet. Arthur was in a frenzy, one hand planted firmly on Merlin's good arm with the other clearing a path with his sword. The enemies kept coming though, and while Gaius tried again to clear his head, he saw the soldier catch Arthur off guard.

A pained scream filled the air, immediately followed by a roar. Arthurs knees buckled. His grip on Merlin slipped, his eyes clenched shut. Before he had time to hit the ground, Merlin let off a burst. Of what, it wasn’t clear. Maybe it was the blood rushing to Gaius’s head, or the chaos of battle. One second, Merlin was injured and slow. The next, the air around him turned to static. Gaius didn’t need to see Merlin's eyes to know what they glowed with.

A wave of nausea overtook Gaius, he was not used to this kind of exertion. His gaze was wrenched from his boys as he took deep breaths. Eventually the buzzing in his head stopped. With the battle still raging around him, he pushed himself to his feet. Arthur was still on his knees, his sword stuck into the ground as a crutch. Merlin stood by his side, they had barely moved from their places. Enemies littered the ground around them. The two were untouched, apart from their previous injuries.

Arthur was looking up at Merlin. Though it was more than that. Injuries clouded his expression, Gaius knew Arthur only had a few minutes before he fell unconscious. Gaius followed Arthur's gaze to Merlin's hand, extended out in front of him. The remnants of his spellcasting like a blaze of flame, still at his fingertips. Arthur was not just looking at Merlin.

Arthur was seeing Merlin.

Gaius brings tea to the table they now sit at. He sets it down, stealing a glance towards Arthur. The king's eyes remain locked on Merlin. His expression is unreadable, apart from what Gaius knows is betrayal. It makes sense of course. A lifetime of trust in Gaius, almost a decade in Merlin, all the while witnessing the destruction sorcery can cause. 

Not wanting to disturb them further, Gaius heads towards the door. The brass knob is cold in his hand. He gives a tug, the old wood resonating a loud creak through the room. As he walks through the doorway, he hopes only that his boys can find patience and understanding within each other.

***

Merlin is never free. His mornings begin before sunrise, with breakfast and laundry and cleaning. To be at Arthurs side is never dull, and jokes aside, it's work that Merlin enjoys. When he is not by Arthurs side he often finds himself with Gaius. The skills of a trained physician live within Merlin after years of healing injuries. Most days, it is rare to have a moment to sit with his thoughts. Which sometimes comes as a relief.

Sorcery remains outlawed in most parts of the land, why wouldn’t it? The hunt for dragons was successful. Magic can cause great harm, the absence of it should surely be the fix. But magic isn’t something simply conjured, it is intertwined in the world itself. It hums with life. Merlin was born with the power of a sun. He has learned to keep it in his palms, unseen.

Arthur sits across from him. He wears a scarlet tunic, faded from use. His eyebrows are knit with indecision as they have been for the past couple minutes. Merlin glances down at the two cups of tea between them, steam coming off the tops. He cannot think of something to say, to make up for the lies. At the beginning they were out of necessity, Uther would've never stood for a sorcerer in the court. When Arthur became king though, the circumstances changed. Was there a better time? A moment Merlin could’ve told him by his own choice. Merlin is pulled from his thoughts as Arthur reaches for one of the cups. 

“The whole time?” Arthur's voice is not harsh, but Merlin is still struck by the suddenness of it. Does he mean the whole time they’ve known each other? The whole time he’s been king? He’s had magic his whole life, is he asking from the beginning? Merlin doesn’t know where to start. He doesn’t break the king's gaze.

“Yes.”

Arthur expects him to go on, or maybe he too doesn’t know what to say, because another silence fills the air. Merlin knows his expression must be sorrowful, though he can’t seem to rid himself of it. 

Arthur turns the cup slowly on the table. “How much of it was a lie?” 

If Merlin was not already shattered, this would have broken the glass. Pinpricks form behind his eyes and he stifles them. He rolls his left shoulder back, letting the pain from the night before wash over him.

“I’m still your friend, that was always real.” Merlin can barely say the words. No explanation feels good enough for why he’s waited this long. He has no ulterior motive, nor was it something Arthur did wrong. Even through his arrogance he's had a soft soul. How can Merlin explain-

“You didn’t trust me.” 

The hurt in Arthur's voice is overwhelming. When Merlin brings his eyes up to meet his kings, he is struck by how much yearning lies in them. Here he sits, faced with an impossible choice, and he wants.

Merlin holds Arthurs gaze, “I do trust you.” It seems too simple. Thoughts swarm in his head, jumbling his words. 

Arthur adjusts his cup again, still having not taken a sip from it. His eyes drop to the worn wooden table. He places his cup to his side and winces, one of many injuries flaring up. 

“Is it your arm?” Merlin leans forward. 

“You don’t have to do that,” Arthur sighs, but his look of concentration doesn’t break. 

Merlin cocks his head. He tends to be the jumpier of the two of them, but Arthur hasn’t moved much at all today. 

“I can get Gaius if you’d like,” Merlin stands from his chair, “You shouldn’t let those cuts go unchecked.”

Arthur reaches out a hand to stop him, “Merlin, just leave it.” He shuts his eyes with the movement.

The injuries should be healing by now. Merlin makes his way past him to grab a tonic for the pain when he catches a glimpse Arthurs lower shirt. A dark patch has formed near his ribcage.

“Are you bleeding?” Merlin kneels at his side.

Arthur shakes his head, “I opened it this morning, it’s fine.”

“Arthur-”

“Merlin.” Arthur's eyes meet his again, this time wet with grief. Merlin stays there, hands frozen in the air between them. He looks up at his king, his friend, his other half. He is met with only warmth. 

Arthur places a hand on Merlin's injured shoulder. He thinks of yesterday's battle, of the chaos and franticness and fear. He replays the fight in his head. Of the collision with the ground, his pierced shoulder. They all fell away when he saw the sword find Arthur. Only a day ago the two of them were flipped. Arthur knelt, looking up at Merlin in awe. Merlin thinks of the aftermath, the rapid explanations, the dragon of embers he had conjured as he lay in bed, Arthur at his side. The choice has never felt like it was his. He wondered if Arthur felt the same way.

Merlin says something he’s already said the previous night.

“I'm sorry.”

Arthur draws his eyebrows together, “I know,” With his free hand, he takes Merlins, “I am too.” 

They stay that way for minutes. Merlin doesn’t know where he would begin, and Arthur doesn’t seem to think it matters. All the years they’ve spent together, a prince and his servant. A knight of camelot and his healer. The king and the sorcerer. Arthur, and Merlin. The longer he holds Arthur's hand, Merlin wonders what could ever change that.

Arthur raises an eyebrow, “If what you said last night is true, I imagine I owe you more than one life debt.”

This is what it comes down to. No matter how much love he holds for Merlin, Arthur is the king. He has to make a ruling that's just, and fair. 

“Then for the crime of sorcerey?” Merlin's stomach twists at calling sorcery a crime, “What have you decided?” The lantern on their right dims, its oil running out. He drops his head, letting his face brush against the hand still on his shoulder.

Arthur's voice is gentle, “That was never a decision I had to think about.”

Merlin snaps his head back up, confusion knit in his own brow. Magic is who Merlin is. It’s more than incantations, more than old scrolls. Magic binds the universe, Arthur himself was born of it. Sorcery has been outlawed for decades in Camelot, usually at the penalty of death. Yet for Merlin, Arthur didn’t consider such an outcome.

Arthur stands, hoisting Merlin up to him, “Come on, help me patch this cut up will you.” He lets himself be guided to the cot. As they sit, Merlin feels a spark inside him. He can’t pull his eyes away from Arthur.

“While you’re at it, why don’t you tell me how to make a poultice for that shoulder.” Arthur laughs under his breath, “Since I’ve got to do everything around here.” He lifts up his shirt, revealing the open gash. Merlin takes no time to get the supplies. 

“You know,” Merlin says, sitting next to him, “You really should’ve told Gaius about this sooner.” Merlin begins to treat Arthurs wound, hands working swiftly and soft. The air around them settles, an unasked question between the two answered. At least for now. When Arthur is bandaged up, he drops his shirt.

“I mean really,” Merlin smirks, “We can’t have the king collapsing from blood loss.”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.” A hand grips Merlin's shirt collar and tugs him forward.

The kiss is an eruption. It ignites the embers in Merlin, sets loose a flood, burns down the castles and walls, shakes all the trees in the forest. First a kiss, then a hand on his face, his own hand against Arthurs chest. Then there is only Arthur. From the day he arrived in Camelot, there was only ever Arthur.

When they break apart, Arthur’s eyes are full of love, same as always. He points to a lantern on Merlin's left.

“Show me again.”

[hillbillied]

I cba to count but any numbers what havent been already answered for the fic asks g ✌🏼

35 Questions for Fanfic Writers! welchh killed the meme

that’s all the odd numbers, you fuckin cunt, I’m gonna crush you in the lidl aisle with a tort textbook (thanks for these, I love em!! except for the couple that’re embarrassing; fuck you!!)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

the sheer audacity of either the AU concept or the scope of project; they’re either ballsy, like a fic that moves through 300+ years of history, or stupid shit like “hey what if alien but with robots and gay?” (if i wanted to be meta i’d say a gay guy writing gay guys has gotta have an appeal, at least to other guys like me)

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

When It Rains It Pours is my “magnum opus” (bleeding quotations) it’s the fic i always wanted to write. post-canon fix-it, exploring the details of two characters i love making their way in the world (close second is Church of Saint Andrew because it was just a horrible idea)

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

overwriting. i sit down to write fun lil romps between chapter updates and then suddenly i got 10k words and a new multi-chapter fic. there’s no “lil one-shot for a break” because i just… can’t write them like that. really bums me out

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

trick question, i only write AndyEddie and am therefore immune (i don’t think i write Sledge as well as i could, tbr)

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

Andy, Eddie, and their gay antics

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

these are real interesting ones because they’re just me embarrassing myself innit… i wrote for Bleach. like the anime. i was 11, maybe. fucking end me

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

i want to die saying this but ya’ll remember Death Note? probably that

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

i’m not putting it on me blog but the one that uses the greek alphabet

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

all fucking three, baby, fanfiction is a buffet and i got my All You Can Eat token!!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

don’t mind gen fic if it’s multi-pairing so the focus is on other stuff, but otherwise gimme them ships

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

this question is unlawful, do not pass go, do not collect fifty quid and a statue from bristol river

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

always!! normally lil youtube playlists for most fics, if not then just whatever gives that general vibe

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

i like a good prompt when it suits but mainly it’s indie fics (“indie fic” is a cursed term)

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

i write one-shots in my fantasies, and multi-chaps in practice

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

shit, i’d kill for a spin-off of Church of Saint Andrew from Andy’s POV. centuries of being reincarnated over and over, meeting a random guy every lifetime and wondering why he treats you like he knows you, like he loves you… that’d be fucked up and fantastic.

every canon era fic i write is lowkey a side adventure/spin-off of When it Rain it Pours, tbh, like that’s my canon touchstone for writing

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

less too scared to try and more not willing to commit the effort. some things are so niche and so self-indulgent it’s not worth putting into text, not until I’ve got a fuckton of time on my hands

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

i used to handle it terribly. now I handle it better. i’ve got a real specific viewpoint on fanfiction crit nowerdays; since fanfic is free, takes effort, and is not inherently for the reader, any criticism given should be a) asked for by the writer, and b) on points of actual relevance rather than “i personally do not like X”. if it doesn’t comply with those criteria, i find myself asking why someone took the time to write the public comment. you can complain about bad fic privately, like all things

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

there’s a WIP in my docs from Andy’s POV that deals with some heavier shit and yeah, that was a step outside but if you push through it, your comfort zone expands like bread for the ducks

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

merciless angst, we die like men

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

yes and you will never hear about them but know they are jewish and gay

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

(fuck almost pasted from my uni work about cyclist helmets) thought you’d enjoy this one:

His name’s Edward Allison Jones and he likes to think his life story can be summed up in under a page. Probably less than.

Where to start? It’s a boring beginning.

Born in a place called Red Lion, that he hasn’t been back to since he screamed his little baby scream at the midwife. It wasn’t a good start, either, considering his parents hightailed it out of there and over the West Virginia Stateline to avoid paying for his little baby entrance. They tell the story like they’re fucking Bonny and Clyde, but their son imagines it more like Flintstones. Yabba dabba doo.

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

quick fire round: i can’t stop watching the legend of korra (it’s fuckin good man) and it keeps bringin me back to the avatar AU, every time i write “cunt” in a fic i feel americans clutch their pearls, i’m getting back into the old groove of making chars jewish and not giving a fuck, once I found out “high school” was just secondary school i couldn’t write/read high school AUs cause that’s grim tbh, and sometimes i don’t even watch tv shows i use for AUs because I’m a busy boy