#look at my platonic mergana

[princess-of-morkva]

M&M means Mischief and Magic

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Marriage of Convenience

Prompt: A middle ages history major here! I love your writing so much!!! just an idea for u to marinate on if u want; since morgana was the only daughter with two brothers back then, even if the king was dead or incapable of ruling, she would still have to be married off before a son could regain the throne. So, if Arthur was real, he (and his partner) most likely be responsible for finding someone for his sister to marry. - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur, morgwen, mergwen, arwen, mergana, which ones are platonic and which ones romantic? who knows, not me

Word Count: 2329

Arthur sighs, bowing his head for a moment, before looking up. “Morgana.”

Morgana doesn’t turn, sitting up perfectly straight with her court face on, staring straight ahead.

“Morgana, please.”

“As you wish, My King,” she says, her voice perfectly even. Arthur winces.

“‘Gana, I don’t want this.”

“To my recollection,” she says, her voice sharpening with every word, “it does not matter what we want, but what honor and duty demand.”

“’Gana.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” She looks at him with such ferocity that he thinks he sees her eyes flash gold. “That I’m happy to do this for you? That of course, my loyalty to Camelot is so great that I would shackle myself to a man that does not understand that you and I do not have to marry to rule?”

“No, I don’t want you to say any of that.”

“Because I don’t, Arthur.” Morgana stands in a swirl of skirts and begins to pace angrily up and down the length of the room. “I can be your advisor, the paperwork has already been drawn up, and none of the Council would dare oppose it.”

“But then you couldn’t rule if I weren’t able to!”

Morgana pauses at his shout, turning to look as Arthur stands and braces his hands on the table.

“I want you to rule with me,” he says finally, “you know I do.”

The tiniest of nods.

“But you also know that if I wasn’t able to rule—either because I was killed or put under a curse or struck by some—some—something,” Arthur insists, “you would not be able to rule either. It would go to someone else, either the—“

“The pompous arse who thinks it’s still alright to eat with his mouth open or the sniveling coward who winces every time a strong breeze blows past.”

“…yes.”

Morgana takes a deep breath. She raises her chin. Arthur watches her, waiting, trying to sort through the arguments on the tip of his tongue, to lay things out in a way for them to work through it, for her to still make the ultimate decision, when she sighs again and her shoulders slump.

“…I don’t want this, Arthur.”

Arthur’s chest aches at the sheer defeat in Morgana’s voice, slowly crossing the room to stand next to her. She closes her eyes and rests her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, ‘Gana.”

She takes another breath. “If you marry me off to one of them, I will gut you in your sleep.”

He chuckles. “I know.”

They stand there for a moment longer together, breathing in the quiet before the storm.

“So,” Morgana says after a while, “who must I marry for the good of the kingdom?”

“I’m sure there’s a list of eligible noblemen somewhere,” Arthur sighs, pulling away and going to his desk, “we should…probably start there?”

Morgana watches him with idle amusement. “Why is it that you sound more dismayed by this process than I do?”

“Because, ‘Gana, you’re the one who’s actually going to marry the poor sod, and I’m going to be the one who hears about it for the rest of our lives.”

“Nonsense, I’ll have Gwen.”

“Right. Small mercies.”

“…is there seriously a list?”

Arthur gives her a look. “Out of all the things Uther Pendragon left to chance, do you really think your suitor would be one of them?”

“I suppose not.”

Still, when they finally get the list and it’s much, much shorter than they expected, they sigh.

“Do we think he had high expectations or are my prospects really this dismal?”

Arthur squints at the list of names. “All of these people either have…strategic value or their coffers are more than enough to make Camelot very, very comfortable.”

Morgana’s face pinches. He knocks his elbow against hers. “I’m fine, Arthur. I just—I never expected my marriage to be anything other than political.”

“…to be honest?” She looks up at him. “Neither did I.”

And oh, isn’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard? To have so much power and yet, just as trapped?

“Well, I assume these are not my only options.”

“No, not by a long shot.”

Morgana raises an eyebrow. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Arthur gives her a look. “I’m not going to explain that to you.”

“Oh, no, please,” Morgana says, folding her arms and grinning as Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose, “explain this to me. Why do I have near limitless options, as you’ve so implied?”

“Morgana, you are having the King of Camelot—the King, mind you—“

“Oh, yes, and you’re very kingly.”

“—pick out your husband. I could quite literally name any man your husband.”

“But you won’t,” she says sweetly, “because I would gut you in your sleep.”

“Threatening a king is treason, you know.”

“Threatening my brother is my duty.”

“Oh, according to what?”

“Sorry, that’s a sister-only rule.” She taps her finger. “And that is not the only thing you were going to say.”

He turns to her. “Oh, oh, and you know this how? What else, pray tell, was I going to say?”

“You’re not going to tell me of my beauty?” She lifts a hand to trail through her hair in a mocking version of what all the other court ladies do. “Of how men would ride for days and nights to see me?”

“As if I need to boost your ego more.”

“If you’re going to be the one to write the letters asking for their hand in marriage—“

“I most certainly will not.”

“—then you must speak of my fine qualities as a wife,” she says, batting her eyes and snorting when Arthur fakes a retch. “Oh, please, save that for when I remind you that we were supposed to marry.”

They pause.

One beat.

Two.

“No.”

“No, no, it’d never work.”

“No, thank you, I’ll pass.”

“What a horrible idea.”

“Can’t believe you said that.”

“No, neither can I.”

“I should gut you just for that.”

“Do, it will put us both out of the misery of having to do this.”

“But then the kingdom would fall to—“

“Ah. Yes. Best not, then.”

“Mm.” Morgana takes one last look at the list and sighs. “So, where does that leave us?”

“You could always take one of the knights as a husband,” Arthur suggests, pouring them each a drink from the jug on his desk.

“True.” She accepts it. “But which one?”

“Given your…opinions of the knights, I’m sure you’ve got a few in mind.” He gives her a look. “Or one, in particular.”

She hides her face behind the rim of the goblet as she takes a sip. “Hush.”

“No, really, I think that you’ve got one in mind,” Arthur smirks. “It’s not like you’ve ever said anything about it, nor have you insisted that there was a better candidate to train with you.”

“Arthur.”

“Really, I can’t imagine you having more than one knight in mind, though I’m sure I could guess.”

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure Gwaine will be thrilled.”

“I don’t—Gwaine?” Morgana looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “It’s not Gwaine, what on earth are you talking about?”

Arthur bursts out laughing as she realizes she’s taken the bait. She slumps back into the chair and takes another drink.

“…well done,” she admits with grudging respect.

“Well,” he manages once he’s got control of himself, “I did learn from you.”

He waits a moment before continuing.

“I’m sure Leon would be honored,” he says, kinder now, “if you were to be wed.”

Morgana sighs, idly swirling the goblet. “I know. And he…he would be a good husband.”

“He would.”

She sighs again. “But he wouldn’t be happy.”

“No?” Arthur leans against the table. “Why not?”

“Because he would be obligated to leave his position to fulfill his sacred duties as a husband.” Morgana looks up at him. “And nothing in the world has given him as much purpose, contentment, or honor, as being the knight he is for the kingdom.”

Arthur raises his eyebrows. “And how do you know that?”

Morgana levels a glare at him. “Because unlike everyone else in this godforsaken kingdom, when I want to know something from someone, I talk to them.”

“Your tone is very pointed right now.”

“Wonder why that could be.”

“Morgana…”

“Oh, come off it!” She throws herself out of the chair with such ferocity that Arthur stumbles back. “Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about, you’ve been dancing around it the whole time!”

“Morgana, I—“ Arthur holds his hands out— “I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Who are you going to wed, Arthur?”

Arthur stops. He blinks. “What?”

“You, Arthur, who are you going to wed?” Morgana stares daggers at him. “We both know that our marriages would be political. If I am being wed, then the things not covered by my marriage should be covered by yours. And if neither of us is clear on that, then—then—“

She throws her hands up.

“Then we may as well not have this discussion.”

Arthur watches her, his mouth hanging open. She glares at him and he shuts it with a click, before swallowing.

“…Morgana, I…the reason I wanted to do this was to make sure you could rule.”

“But I can’t unless I have a child.”

“Then I want you to have a child with someone who could help you raise them the way you want them raised,” Arthur says without missing a beat, “but I don’t—I—I don’t know how to do that.”

“Because you’re not thinking.”

“I’m trying, ‘Gana.”

“Not hard enough, apparently.”

“‘Gana—“

“Arthur,” she interrupts, “your marriage is going to be looked at even more than mine. What will it say that I get married before you do?”

“I don’t know, what will it say?”

“It will say the King does not understand the value of political marriages, as he has wed his sister off so quickly,” Morgana says, staring at him, “it will say that the King’s sister, in her marriage, has potentially ruined future alliances by being wed. It will say that—“

“Okay, okay,” Arthur sighs, “I get the point, we should marry at the same time.”

“Or at least similar ones.”

“But that doesn’t…that doesn’t explain why you said it like that.”

Morgana sighs. “Just because my marriage has to be political doesn’t mean that yours has to be.”

Arthur’s breath catches in his throat. She…is she…

“You’re the King,” she murmurs, “and if anyone should have the power to marry for love, then…then it should be you.”

“…’Gana…”

The weight of what she’s saying, what she’s offering, hits him square in the chest as if a horse had just run him over. He struggles for words, for breath, for anything, and can’t find it.

“Gwen, I assume,” Morgana’s voice comes after a moment, “she…I see the way you two look at each other and talk about each other.”

But Arthur’s shaking his head before she finishes. “No, that…that would also be a political marriage.”

Morgana frowns. “With Gwen?”

“Yes. I…” He swallows. “She would make an excellent Queen. An incredible Queen. But…”

“But what, you don’t…love her?”

Arthur swallows. “And I don’t think she loves me. Not like a husband should love his wife, not like a wife should love her husband.”

“But all of that, before, when you—“

“It was the worst thing I could do in Uther’s eyes,” Arthur says wearily, “and she was…she was the first friend I had in…ages.”

He looks up at her as he collapses into a chair.

“I don’t think she cares for me like that either, and I think you know that.”

Morgana sighs. “Well, there goes that.”

“Besides,” Arthur says, shifting, “her loyalty wouldn’t be mine first and foremost anyway.”

“No?”

“She’d be loyal to Camelot and me by proxy, yes, but…” Arthur looks up. “I think we both know who really has her loyalty, don’t we?”

A faint blush touches the tops of Morgana’s cheeks. “Yes, well, the same could be said of Merlin.”

“Merlin?”

“Oh, come on, like he isn’t the first friend you’ve ever had,” Morgana teases, “and he’d walk to hell and back for you.”

“So? What does that have to do with…” Arthur trails off. “Oh.”

“Now he gets it.”

“Oh.”

“Come on, I should get at least some thanks for making you get this far, I mean, you wouldn’t have done it on your own.”

“Oh, no.”

“Everything alright in there?” She reaches out to gingerly poke his forehead. “Does everything still work?”

He swats her hand away. “Shut up.”

“Come on,” she says again, a little softer this time, “just…just talk to him? Please? If not to spare the rest of the castle your pining?”

“Only if you talk to Gwen,” he retorts, “you two aren’t much better.”

“What good could come of that?”

“What good could come of me talking to Merlin?”

“Well, it’s not like I can marry Gwen!”

“And it’s not like I can marry Merlin!”

They stop.

They stare at each other.

And when poor Gwen and Merlin come into their chambers later, they barely have a moment to catch their breath before, suddenly, the two rulers of Camelot have become the four rulers of Camelot.

[oohlook-thevoid]

Ranking Rating the Merlin ships

I’m bored and procrastinating doing more productive things plus I was already doing this in my head so I guess I’ll share and you can all tell me how wrong I am or whatever,,, jk please don't. Also to note these may not be all ships, they’re just ones I have seen on past perusals of ao3 or on here basically. 

Merthur

7/10 - this is like the main ship of the fandom and I get it, y’know they almost died for each other several times and so on but like, canonically, it really is not the best ship. Like, we’ve got to admit these two did not have the healthiest relationship - Merlin was basically obsessed with saving Arthur because of the prophecy and did so at the expense of helping magic eventually and then Arthur was just kind of a dick sometimes because he’s emotionally repressed and all that. But I mean it does still have a lot going for it, mainly the mass of great fics that make it all a bit more even and healthier, so it gets a 7. 

Arwen

7/10 - even though this is one of the only canon ships, I feel it’s a bit underappreciated in a way because of the merthur love out there. Anyway, arwen is an equally good ship and Arthur and Gwen were just really cute together; when I was watching s5 most of the scenes they were in (Edit: I’ve just remembered I specifically mean the scene when they’re de-mind-controlling Gwen at that lake cauldron thing or whatever, they were very cute there), I was just like they’re a really good couple, they work. I mean there are certainly downfalls which is largely the writing and treatment of Gwen in those later seasons but overall they really were a good couple who deserve better.

Merlance

9999999999/10 - PERFECTION. Like, Lancelot knew about Merlin’s magic and still cared about him greatly and this was the one relationship in which Merlin could be entirely honest and himself and Lancelot was just so so good about it. And also when Lancelot said “I look at you and wonder about myself, would I ever knowingly give my life for something.” and Merlin said “You have to have a reason. Something you care about. Something that’s more important than anything.” and then Lancelot sacrificed himself being the only one who knew Merlin was going to thus giving his life for Merlin. Just these were two amazing dudes who deserved better and by better I mean each other because they were in love your honour. 

Merwaine

10/10 - I mean come on first of all “help a friend” “Arthur’s lucky to have us” “not Arthur” like, Merlin understand that this beautiful chaotic man loves you. Like it is undeniable that Gwaine is brought into this all because of the fact he cares about Merlin, like that’s what brings him into all this. In fact it’s so undeniable that even when I’m reading merthur fics there’s a magic reveal and Arthur’s all like “begone foul demon” waving his sword about all threatening like whilst Gwaine is there like “wow I don’t give a shit because it’s Merlin and I love him end of discussion”. And sometimes it’s even like Arthur attacks Merlin and Gwaine stops him which like,,,,,, it is very clear that we can all see Gwaine is a fucking perfect man for Merlin and someone just needs to tell the dipstick warlock this so they can date. 

Perelyan

5/10 - tbh this could probably be higher but my awareness of Percival and Elyan is shamefully minimal. Like I’ve seen the show, they were there but I can’t say I remember that much. Still, from what  I do recall, they seem to have a good friendship going on so y’know if they ended up in a relationship I wouldn’t be opposed. Could be nice.

Perelyaine

6/10 - basically same as above but Gwaine’s here too now so I have to give an extra point.

Perwaine

6/10 - I mean the scene in Diamond of the Day where Morgana’s torturing Gwaine and he screams and then Percival just fucking hulks out from where he’s tied up and breaks free to get to Gwaine like,,,,, get you a man who can do that. 

Mergana

0/10 - Morgana is a lesbian. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. 

Merdred

-2/10 - I just simply do not vibe with this ship in the slightest. I mean firstly there’s the matter of Merlin just hating Mordred (wrongfully so imo but still). And then just, Merlin was like basically adult and Mordred was small child the first time they met so like I just can’t say I vibe with it. Mordred is the child of the group and he shouldn’t be dating anyone, that’s it basically. 

Freylin

6/10 - I can almost guarantee they’d score higher if someone had been allowed to live longer but alas the writer’s ain’t shit. They are the peak of deserved better though.

Morgwen

9/10 -  ah recall the earlier seasons when these two where just in love and everything was incredible. “Something to cheer you up, I know you’re not sleeping well” “You cheer me up.” That’s love bitch. Anyway these two could have had it all as shown by every early season interaction the had but no once again the writers had to fuck it up. So anyway thanks to them a point has had to be deducted off of perfection because it isn’t cool to torture and brainwash Gwen in the dark tower Morgana (also because of that stupid queen jealousy shit where Morgana was like Gwen can’t be on the throne like can it girl we know you you used to want to share that throne with her).  

Gwencelot

5/10 - I think what they had was sweet but I also think that, at the end of the day, they both at other people out there who they work better with than with each other. Still, I love them both and if they wanted to be happy together then I’m rooting for them. 

Mergwen

3/10 - but only if we’re talking romantically. Platonically their friendship is like  ∞/10. They deserved more screen-time together in later seasons but regardless earlier seasons tell us that their friendship is unmatched and I can live with that.

Merlin x Gwen x Arthur

8/10 - I don’t know the actual ship name for this but I know I’ve see it somewhere. Anyway, fuck love triangles, polyamory saves lives. (this sentiment can also go for any other love triangle or even love square on this show that you can think of)

Leon x anyone

-7/10 - yes, this isn’t a real specific ship. yes, I’m aware of that fact. But I had to say, given I’ve seen various ships with Leon, that overall no. Leon is long-suffering and tired of everyone’s bullshit. If Leon is going to date someone, it will be someone nice and sensible who he deserves and who doesn’t add to the chaos going on around him. 

On that note, I’m done, you’re welcome. 

[itsbrilliantjustlikeyou]

Merlin

idk if i’ve ever posted about merlin on this blog but if i did thank you for noticing!!

Why I like them

he’s literally the human incarnation of a puppy if a puppy could have sass. he’s (at least before season 4/5) the purest character i’ve ever seen

Why I don’t

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Favorite episode (scene if movie)

Either Morte D’ Arthur or s2 finale

Favorite season/movie

two!!!

Favorite line

“i’m happy to be your servant, until the day i die.” this line made me cry and i am NOT kidding

Favorite outfit

the armor from that one episode in s1 because it made him look like the physical embodiment of the smol fighting emoji

OTP

merthur (but mergana is a close second)

Brotp

merlin and morgana

Head Canon

everyone thinks he’s in love when he brings his friends flowers but he’s just really platonically affectionate

Unpopular opinion

his relationship with arthur in season 5 was highkey abusive

A wish

that the finale never happened

5 words to best describe them

sassy, cinnamon roll, brave, loving, kind

My nickname for them

[fayofavalon]

Okay so apparently my ship list has changed. It used to be

Mergana (romantic)

ArMor (romantic)

Mordana (platonic)

Morwaine (romantic)

Now its...

Mordana (Romantic)

Mergana (Romantic)

ArMor (Romantic)

Morwaine (romantic)

Mergana has been my ultimate otp since season one, now look whats happened. I still cant believe someone made me choose, but it’ll always be Mordred for Morgana now.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Poisoned Veins

Prompts: Hi! Feel free to ignore this, but I'd love it if you could write some sort of Merlin (preferably Merthur) fanfic involving the serket sting and S3 E1/2? Maybe just after Merlin gets back, or after the battle, or something (not too long after the sting, is what I'm saying). Either good or bad Morgana, I don't mind. But lots of nice hurt/comfort with Merlin and Arthur, emphasis on the comfort (I love your fics, especially the relationship between Merlin and Arthur, so...) - anon

May I ask for a Merlin&Arthur fic? I love how you write them together! - anon

Thanks for the prompts babes!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/referenced mind control

Pairings: merthur and mergana, but they can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 4108

Was it the stupidest thing he’s done all day? Probably not. The stupidest thing he’s done in the last hour?

Most definitely.

But as he stands here, in the vault, deep under stone and soldiers, he faces Morgana and closes his eyes.

Golden light. Then silence.

The pit of his stomach opens up, his power spilling and spilling into the air between them. It burns his eyes, even through his lids, the tips of his fingers tingling with the excess magic. It hurts. It’s the best he’s felt in ages.

He hears Morgana gasp in front of him.

He opens his eyes to see her, powerful in her armor, the staff in one hand, the sword in the other, tears like chainmail glittering on her face. Her mouth is open, torn between what must be fury and shock, as he holds the glow spinning in his hands.

“I understand,” he hears himself say from miles away, “and I’m sorry.”

Is it partly out of spite? To prove her wrong? Maybe. Is it partly because he desperately wants Kilgharrah to be wrong, that they’re not the same, but yes, yes they are? Maybe.

Is it mostly because he helped turn Morgana into this, helped forge the sword the Morgana has become in Morgause’s hand?

Merlin holds his magic there, bared for her to see, as her mouth snarls and spits at him.

The words flash across his vision even as she doesn’t speak them. How could he, he betrayed her, how dare he side with them, what kind of a monster must he be?

They emerge in a wordless yell as she lunges forward, intent on burying her sword into his chest until—

The force of the blast knocks them back, throwing them like rag dolls against unyielding stone. Merlin winces, his body protesting first from the force of the expended magic and then the sharp crack from the wall. He manages to wedge himself upright with his elbow, scanning furiously for the damage done to the rest of the vault.

Fissures run along the length of the ceiling, dust showering as the soldiers upstairs rush back and forth. Somewhere up there are the knights, Leon, Arthur, the others—he should get up, he should see what else he has to do, but—

He looks down, searching for Morgana.

He finds a limp body, a sword flung out of a hand, and a staff that hums with enough dark power to make his stomach churn.

Panic courses through his veins as he scrambles across the floor, palms digging roughly into jagged stone, knees and elbows catching on loose rock. He winces, stumbles, flails, keeps going. He’s already hurt Morgana once, he won’t dare leave her again.

“Morgana,” he mumbles, straining through the clouds of dust, “Morgana—can—can you hear me?”

She’s out cold, lying limply on the floor. He reaches out, grabbing at her chainmail, trying to roll her onto her back, see what the damage is, did she hit something and get knocked unconscious? No blood greets him as her head turns, he can’t feel anything broken, so then what—why—

Something under his hand burns.

He yanks his hand away to see a bracelet, the bracelet Morgause gave her, the bracelet that stayed on as the dead rose around them, flare, splutter, and die.

Morgause…

Morgana gasps awake.

“Easy,” Merlin says before she can sit up too quickly and hurt herself, “easy, easy, Morgana, please, it’s—it’s alright, I’m not going to hurt you—“

“Merlin—Merlin—“ her voice grows shriller in a panic— “Merlin, please you have to listen to me—“

“I’m not going to hurt you, you have to believe me—“

“Merlin, please—“

“It’s alright, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I wanted to, just please listen to me, we have to stop this—“

“Merlin!”

The note of genuine hysteria gives him pause before he looks up and sees her face. Her face, not that horrible mask that’s been plastered to her since she returned, no, this is Morgana, shining back at him, tears still armor, as real as the hand fisted in his tunic to pull him closer, not push him away.

“…Morgana?”

“Merlin,” she says in a rush, “Merlin, we have to destroy the staff, Morgause is using it to channel my powers, she’s attacking the city, we need to—if we destroy the staff we may still win—“

“Morgana?” Merlin blinks, not wanting to believe it.

“Please, Merlin,” Morgana says, sitting up and taking his tunic in both hands now, “please, I know—I know I’ve been awful to you, I know this is my fault too, but you have to believe me, she’s more powerful than you know, we have to—“

“Are you hurt?” He looks her over, sees the bracelet still on her wrist. He reaches for it.

“What are you doing? We have to stop her!”

“The bracelet,” he says, “take your bracelet off.”

Morgana looks down. Her eyes widen when she sees the jewel in the middle burst open. “It’s—it’s broken…it’s broken…”

And the heart-wrenching look on her face as her mouth twists and she yanks it off is enough to convince Merlin.

“How do we destroy it?”

“I don’t know!” Morgana yanks him to his feet. ‘She said only the High Priestesses and their blood god had ever seen it.”

Merlin winces as the clattering above gets louder. He looks around to see more and more of the dead rising. “Well, we’ve got to try something!”

Morgana’s face twists further as she grips the staff. Her eyes begin to glow.

“Morgause is a High Priestess,” she growls, as the glow intensifies, “and I am her sister.”

She looks to Merlin.

“Help me.”

Merlin’s own magic starts to respond as the staff glows brighter, its own dark magic threatening to swallow the kingdom whole. Morgana’s magic reaches for him as they hold the staff together.

“On three,” she grits through a clenched jaw, “ready?”

Merlin nods, starting to pant with the effort of holding onto the staff. “One…”

“Two…”

“Three!”

The staff shatters.

They stand, frozen, made immobile by the magic surrounding them, as the dead start to fall back to the earth. Merlin’s eyes are fixed open, gazing at the remnants of the ancient tree, bound only by magic now dissipated. Across from him, Morgana’s gaze locks on his and they breathe.

“You have magic,” she whispers after an eternity of silence, “you…you’re like me.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says, his hands still outstretched, “I’m sorry.”

A wounded noise escapes them both as they slump to the ground, exhausted by the weight of the magic in the room. All around them, skeletons fall, the castle settles, and the battle rages on. The faintest sound of swords manages to reach them, down here, buried under stone, but for now, they are alone.

Alone in a swirl of magic and the broken promises of destiny.

Merlin drags himself across the floor to curl protectively around Morgana’s shaking form. He can’t let her get hurt now. She’s just broken one of the most powerful enchantments he’s ever seen, let alone felt, there’s no way he’s letting anyone near her. Morgana stirs as he sets himself over her, reaching upwards to grab a fist of his tunic. She tugs him down into a hug, her arms going around him so tightly he winces, before wrapping his own around her.

They’re sorry. They’re so, so sorry.

“I haven’t felt anything in ages,” comes the hoarse whisper, “it felt—It felt as though she banished me behind a sheet of glass, even in my own body.”

“You did it,” he mumbles back, squeezing her tighter, “you broke the enchantment. You did it. She can’t control you anymore.”

“I’m still so angry.” Her chest hitches as she gasps. “I’m so—I’m so angry and I can’t—I can’t tell which anger is mine and which anger is hers.”

The stone echoes in silent judgment as her confession rings in the air around them.

“You don’t have to figure it out right now.” He tightens his grip. “We can just—rest. For a moment.”

“Yes, that sounds nice.” Her voice starts to lilt. “Just…a little…rest…right here.”

“The others can—they’ll be fine.”

“Yes, yes, quite.”

Merlin’s eyes start to droop as his body finally gets to sag in relief. He winces.

“Merlin?” Morgana stirs under him. “Are you—did I hurt you?”

He shakes his head. “No, no, I just…I think I need to sleep, now…”

Kilgharrah’s warning about the cure returns. It will work, but not quickly.

And he just burnt up a lot of his energy.

He curses softly under his breath and Morgana sits up quickly, pulling him against the wall as they lean together.

“Merlin, Merlin? Merlin, talk to me,” she says as she scrambles to make sure his tunic and neck kerchief aren’t making it hard for him to breathe, “stay—stay with me.”

“I’m—I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright, Merlin, I hurt you too, I’m not angry at you, just—well, alright,” she yields when he manages to give her a look, “maybe a little, but not like that, just—stay awake, what’s wrong?”

He swallows roughly. “The Serket sting,” he manages through a dry throat, “it—I’m still not strong enough to fully…fully heal yet. I think—I think I pushed too hard.”

“Oh, Merlin,” she says, the perfect balance between chiding and fond, “you always push yourself too hard.”

“Easy for you to say,” he mumbles back, “you’re…you’re as close to an overachiever as they come.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

Their laughs are too tired to be convincing, cut off by an awful churn in Merlin’s stomach. The familiar pain of the poison swirls at the base of his spine.

“Shh, shh,” Morgana says frantically, pressing a glowing hand to his stomach, “I can—I had Morgause teach me some healing, I can try to hold it at bay while we find Gaius—“

“I’ll be fine,” he says, feeling the familiar wash of magic through his veins, “I’ll be fine, you…you save your strength. We’ve got some explaining to do when this is all over.”

Indeed, above them, the sounds of battle are slowly quieting.

Morgana laughs shakily. “And you best believe you’re going to be right there with me,” she warns, “you’re not getting out of it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says as his eyes start to drift closed, “but you…you can’t burn yourself out either.”

“So let’s both stay awake,” she says firmly, her arms still wrapped around him, “we’ll…we can just rest, right here, and then…then we’ll tell them.”

“Stay with me, then,” Merlin mumbles, reaching to wrap his arms more tightly around her, “don’t try and run off as soon as I pass out.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

There they stay, Morgana’s nose pressed into the crook of Merlin’s neck, Merlin’s hand buried at the base of Morgana’s braid, curled up, safe and exhausted next to the shattered staff.

There Arthur finds them, tearing frantically through the citadel, shouting for Merlin, for Morgana, for anyone who’s seen them.

They look up when he comes in, fear giving way to relief as a jibe rises to the tip of his tongue. Something cheap about the two of them sneaking off, or feigned disgust or outrage at finding them in such a compromising position. But then he catches sight of their tear-stained faces and the carnage around them and they can see him putting the pieces together.

“Merlin,” he finally says after a long moment, “Morgana, you’re both—you’re both safe.”

“Arthur?” Morgana props herself up a little. “Arthur, are you—“

“I’m alright,” he says, “the battle’s over.”

“Arthur.” Merlin tries to sit up too but neither he nor Morgana can make it. “Arthur—“

“Oh, alright,” Arthur sighs like he’s also not desperate to pick his way through the rubble toward them, “I’m coming.”

Still, he can’t disguise the look of relief on his face as he sits next to them, Morgana immediately pulling herself up to throw an arm around his neck.

“Alright, alright,” he mumbles like he’s not the most relieved prince in the world, “I’m here, I’m alright. Are you safe?”

“I’m safe now,” she says, “we destroyed the staff, we stopped the magic.”

Arthur looks around. “So you did. Well done.”

One of Morgana’s hands is still clutching Merlin’s tunic, dragging him closer to Arthur as she hugs him. Arthur raises an eyebrow as he notes this, looking to Merlin to make a joke only for it to die as he takes in what Merlin can only assume is his pale, sweaty, exhausted face.

“Are you alright?” He reaches for Merlin’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

Merlin thinks about shaking his head.

“Destroying the staff wasn’t easy,” he decides after a moment, which is true, “the magic…took a lot out of us. Both of us.” Which is also true.

“Merlin got hurt with a poison,” Morgana adds, shooting him a look that only he can tell is guilty, “he’s fighting it off still.”

“I’ve gotten the cure,” Merlin says before Arthur can indignantly rush them both upstairs, “it’s just…taking a while.”

Arthur’s gaze softens and he tugs Merlin a little closer.

“Is that why you’re still here,” he asks the both of them, “is it just…taking a while?”

They nod.

“Then let’s get you somewhere safe,” he says, starting to stand, “the battle is over. The citadel is safe.”

Morgana’s eyes flick to Merlin’s.

“Cenred and Morgause,” Merlin says, “are they gone?”

“Fled, it looks like,” Arthur says as they stand, “probably back to their own kingdoms.”

Morgana’s shoulders slump. “Thank goodness.”

“I’ll check to see what the easiest way back is.” Arthur walks toward the door. “Just wait here a moment.”

As soon as he disappears, Morgana looks down. Merlin follows her gaze to see the bracelet there, at their feet. He squeezes Morgana’s hand.

“Áce wele!”

The bracelet explodes into shards of metal as Morgana spits the spell. Arthur returns to see them still standing there, clutching each other.

“Is a side effect of the spell that you can’t let go,” he jokes, coming back to lead them out of the vault, “or is it just you two?”

When neither of them responds, he ushers them to Gaius without further comment.

Merlin nods when Gaius gives him a strange look, motioning to wait until Arthur is outside, standing guard.

“I’m sorry,” both Morgana and Merlin say at the same time, before Morgana clears her throat, “I’m sorry, Gaius, for everything. I didn’t know—Morgause—the bracelet—I know that doesn’t make up for everything but—“

“It’s quite alright, Morgana,” Gaius says, “I am not blameless either. And I am sorry.”

She accepts it with a quick jerk of her head. “I’m still angry. But until I know which of the anger is mine and which is hers, I’m…I can’t…”

She rolls her shoulders back.

“You have nothing to fear from me.”

Gaius bows his head humbly. “And you shall find no more loyal a servant.”

Morgana glances to Merlin and mouths except for you.

Merlin blushes.

Gaius shoos him out to tend to the last of Morgana’s wounds and to make a potion to clear the last of the magic from her, leaving Merlin stumbling into the corridor and running straight into Arthur’s arms.

“There you are,” he says softly, helping Merlin stand, “has Gaius told you you’re alright?”

“He said there’s nothing else for me to do but rest,” Merlin manages, before remembering that he needs to tend to Arthur, “but I can—I’ll help you first.”

Arthur just hums and starts walking them back to his chambers. They pass others, tending to wounds, hugging their loved ones, until they push open the doors to Arthur’s rooms and Merlin’s shoulders slump. His fingers fumble a few too many times for it to be considered efficient, but before long Arthur is free of his armor and Merlin all but collapses onto the table, having struggled to hang the last of it up.

“Will there be anything else, sire?”

Please, no. Let me rest.

“Yes, actually, Merlin, come here.”

He winces, pulls himself together and turns, ready to answer whatever Arthur’s going to have him do next, only to frown. In the time it took him to get Arthur’s armor cleared away, Arthur’s filled a small basin with water and set it on a table next to the bed. He opens his mouth to ask what Arthur wants when Arthur beckons him closer.

“Arthur, what—“

“Sit, Merlin,” Arthur says in the soft voice from the vault, taking him gently by the arm and guiding him to the bed, “there. I’m going to clean you off.”

“What? I’m fine!”

“You’re not,” Arthur corrects, still speaking in the voice that is making it very hard for Merlin to stay awake, “now hush and raise your arms.”

“Why?”

“Your tunic is filthy.” Arthur gives the material a tug. “And I need to see where you’re hurt.”

“‘M not hurt.”

“Morgana said you were poisoned. That means you’re hurt. Where did they get you?”

“…back.”

“On your back? Alright. Let’s go ahead and get this off you…”

Arthur’s hands are steady as he guides the tunic up and over Merlin’s head, followed by a sharp inhale as he sees the bruises from the chains.

“…Merlin, this looks like you were tortured.” Merlin can’t do anything but blink up at him. “You said the poison was on your back?”

Merlin nods.

“Here, I’m going to lean you forward, you just lean against me, alright?”

Arthur’s hand cups Merlin’s head, pulling him forward until he rests against Arthur’s chest. He loses himself in the slow card of fingers through his hair as Arthur leans over him to check where the poison must’ve been. When he feels a warm hand run over the still-tender wound, he winces.

Arthur stills. “Here?”

Merlin nods. “Two—two—wait, how long has it been since I got back?”

Arthur is quiet for a moment. Then he pulls away, hushing the embarrassing noise of protest that comes from Merlin’s throat.

“I’m not going far, just right here.” He takes a cloth and dips it in the water. “Let me clean your face.”

A warm hand slots itself under Merlin’s chin and lifts. A moment later, there’s a cool cloth on his face, stroking along his cheeks, over his forehead. Arthur asks him to close his eyes and the cloth sweeps gently, so gently over his closed eyes, getting away the salt and the dirt and the last of the tears.

“Shh,” Arthur soothes when Merlin lets out a pained noise, “it’s alright. I’m not hurt, you’ll be alright, I’m right here.”

“‘Rthur—“

The cloth leaves, dropped back onto the table as Arthur cradles his head in his hands. “You’re exhausted, Merlin, but I need you to open your eyes for me.”

For Arthur. He can do it for Arthur.

Arthur smiles encouragingly as he meets his gaze, kneeling by the bed so Merlin won’t strain his neck. He ruffles Merlin’s hair.

“There you are,” he murmurs, “now show me where it hurts.”

“Hurts?”

“You don’t have a fever, I checked, but you’re still in pain. I need you to show me.”

“I, um…”

“Hey,” Arthur calls, standing again to tuck Merlin into his arms, “you don’t have to be embarrassed, not with me, I’m here to look after you, it’s alright.”

“It—the magic—it—from the—“ Merlin swallows— “the magic from the staff and the poison, it—it hurt.”

Arthur makes a sympathetic noise, reaching for the cloth again. “Took a lot out of you, hmm?”

Merlin nods miserably, only to yelp in surprise when Arthur tilts him back, held with one arm around his back and the other pressing the cool cloth just below his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he says quietly when Merlin lets out another confused noise, pressing the cloth into the hollow of his ribcage, “just lay back and trust me, alright?”

Arthur props himself up on the bed, Merlin almost dipped in his arms as he holds the cloth still. The cool water almost feels like it’s drawing some of the pain out of him, making him sag into Arthur’s arms.

“Shh, that’s it, just a little longer.” Arthur turns the cloth so the cool side stays against Merlin. “Does that feel good?”

Merlin nods. His head lolls against Arthur’s shoulder, his eyes threatening to close. They blink open once Arthur starts talking again.

“You were dying,” he says quietly, looking at Merlin, “when you were gone those two days, weren’t you?”

Merlin nods.

“Oh, Merlin, I’m sorry.” His thumb rubs a soothing circle into his side. “No one will touch you again, I won’t let them.”

Something in Arthur’s voice makes him want to melt, stay here, safe in the crook of Arthur’s arms, but he can’t. If Arthur notices the way he rouses himself again, he doesn’t comment. Instead, he just turns the cloth over again.

“Something happened down there,” he says softly, “between you and Morgana, didn’t it?”

Merlin tenses.

“Not like that, Merlin,” Arthur chuckles, “but something happened when you broke the staff, didn’t it?”

He nods hesitantly. Arthur rolls his eyes.

“I do pay attention. I know what Morgana’s like. You two were practically inseparable when I first arrived.” The arm holding Merlin gives him a little squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me what it is, just…tell me, will you two be alright?”

He nods again. He’s sure of that.

“Good,” Arthur murmurs, setting the cloth aside. Merlin tries to sit up only for Arthur’s arm to hold him steady. “No, no, you stay. Here…there you go.”

Merlin blinks, a little confused when Arthur lays him tenderly out onto the bed. He props himself up on his elbows as Arthur bustles to the wardrobe, fetching a nightshirt for Merlin and helping him into it.

“What—“

“You’re exhausted, Merlin,” he says like that explains everything, “stay here tonight. Sleep.”

“I can’t do that, you—ah!“

“Shh, shh, hey, easy,” Arthur soothes, wrapping his arms around Merlin as he doubles over, a hand pressed hard to his chest.

Merlin bites back a whimper as another bolt of pain shoots through his chest. Damn Serket poison. Dimly, he realizes Arthur’s right. There’s no way he’s going to be able to make it back to Gaius and explain what’s going on.

Then he realizes as he’s been dealing with this, Arthur’s moved him.

He’s tucked up under the prince’s blankets, a pillow under his head, his boots and rough trousers removed. Next to him, Arthur reaches out to cradle him against his chest, rubbing soothing circles into his back. He lets out another mewl as Arthur gentles away the pain in his shoulders. There’s a warm hand under his chin, guiding it up. Arthur tilts his head and chucks Merlin lightly.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Oh.

Oh.

Arthur’s worried.

“It hurts,” he manages, “it just—it hurts.”

Arthur makes a sympathetic noise, pulling him closer and tucking his head under his chin. He rolls them, Merlin on top, his knees coming up to bracket Merlin’s body as he strokes a warm hand up and down Merlin’s back.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmurs, Merlin’s head safely in the crook of his neck, “it’s over now.”

“It’s over?”

“Yes, sweetheart, you’re safe. I’m right here.” Arthur cuddles him closer. “The battle is over. Camelot is safe. Morgana is safe. I’m safe.”

He cups the back of Merlin’s head and brings his mouth to his ear.

“You can rest now, sweetheart. Just go to sleep,” he whispers, “go on…”

Arthur is here. Arthur is solid and holds him firmly. Arthur is big and warm and soft and Merlin is so, so, tired.

Rest, young warlock, he thinks he hears as he drifts off, and well done.