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hannahhook7744 · 21 days ago

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The Princes' Bodyguard;

Summary: Arthur Pendragon, tired and stressed by the surprising amount of danger two of his and Gwen’s eleven children manage to get into, hires a bodyguard. When the number of assassins that threaten his sons skyrocket after he does, the king thinks that his money has been well spent and so does his wife and the rest of their family. The princes in question, Llacheu and Loholt, however, know the truth. Not all of those assassins were after their lives, they were after their bodyguard’s! And now the young princes are determined to find out why, and get to the bottom of who exactly Morgar (or Morgie, as he prefers) is. Trigger Warnings: swearing, child endangerment (via children themselves), arguing, mention of assassin attempts, etc.

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No one had been down the overgrown path for years, yet…

“No.”

“But—”

“Absolutely not–”

“Loholt, just listen—”

“No!” Prince Loholt Tom Pendragon of Camelot snapped, cutting his twin brother off as he lost the last of the patience he had for him that day. “No! You listen to me, Llacheu. We are not going down the spooky, abandoned, most definitely cursed path that no one has tended to in years just to satisfy your curiosity!”

Prince Llacheu Ewan Pendragon of Camelot (totally did not) pout and crossed his arms. “Why nooooooooot ?”

“1. Because it will give our poor mother a heart attack. 2. Because we are the oldest and supposed to set an example for our siblings. And 3. Dad will flip his lid if he finds out, because he will find out when Uncle Merlin no doubt has to come and save our dumb asses because we went down the stupid path, you dollop head!”

Llacheu snorted. “Come on, we’re eighteen and will become knights soon. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Loholt, always the more sensible of the two, gave him their Uncle Merlin’s famous ‘are you kidding me right now’ and ‘did you really just ask that’ look. “I don’t know….We could DIE maybe? Is that ‘worst’ enough for you?”

“That isn’t grammatically correct—guess all that time in the library is failing you, brother.”

“It is not—”

“Is too—”

“Is not—”

RROOOOoooOOOOARAAAAARRRRRR!

“AAAARRRRAHHHHAHHHHHHHH!”

The twin princes halted their argument immediately—staring at each other in silence momentarily before one of them finally caught up with the situation. “What was that?!”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?!”

“This is all your fault!”

“How is it my fault?!”

“YOU KNOW HOW!”

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Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood behind his desk, resisting the urge to pace as the sunlight poured in through the opening windows of his room. In front of him, his two eighteen year old sons—his oldest children who were born only a few months after the Battle of Camlann (which the king of Camelot didn’t like to think too much about for obvious reasons, less the bitter ‘what-ifs’ and ‘could have beens’ of Morgana, Mordred, and other lost friends and innocents consume him)—sat sheepishly. Not meeting his eyes.

Arthur didn’t blame them.

Quite honestly he was beyond furious with both of them—because in all of his forty six years, he had never ever, ever had this bad of a near heart attack. Not during any of times he had nearly died because of an attempt on his life, not with any of the times any of his friends had nearly died, or any of the times Gwen had nearly died—not during any of the battles he’d rode into, not sure he and his friends would even make it out alive. Absolutely none of it compared to the grey hairs and heart palpitations his oldests had just given him.

“A banshee, bandits, and a griffin?!”

The universe hated him.

It was official.

Because honestly, there was absolutely no other way to explain how that had happened in this day and age when most of the people who had tried to kill him were dead or no longer foe. Not since he’d legalized magic, anyway. Yet his children all still managed to get into trouble somehow.

Even his toddlers got in trouble!

“Well, you see—” Loholt, who dressed in mainly shades of green and black, was the first to start stammering as he shot a glare at his brother.

“We were, uh, well there was this path—”Llacheu, who dressed in orange, wasn’t far behind as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Refusing to meet his brother’s eye. He was no doubt the reason why they were on that path in the first place.

When Arthur was calmer, he’d talk to him about that. But for now…

“Yes. A path. The path of no return which both your mother and I, along with your aunts and uncles, have told you and your siblings and cousins all explicitly to stay far away from to avoid situations exactly like these from happening.” The blonde took a deep breath, pinching his nose a bit harder to bat away the stress induced headache that was starting to develop before breathing out. “Right. Your mother and I are hiring you two a bodyguard.”

One that Arthur was going to have Merlin, George, the knights, Giaus, Freya, and the Steward help him and Gwen vet very thoroughly before they even stepped foot in the castle or anywhere near his children for that matter. Call him paranoid but he wasn’t taking any risks or cutting any corners where his children’s safety was involved.

“What?!”

“But dad—”

“No buts. You two will not live to be knights at the rate you are going. Need I remind you of the sledding incident of last week? Or the River incident the week before that? Or any of you two’s other exploits recently and not so recently?” Being harsh was the last thing Arthur wanted to be but this was not a matter he nor Gwen were willing to compromise on—not when their boys were far more danger prone than Arthur, Gwen, Morgana, Merlin, and the round table combined had ever been.

Gods above, they had gotten in far more trouble than Arthur ever had in his forty six years and a good ten of those years he’d spent dodging nonstop assassination attempts. Well-earned or not.

They were definitely getting a bodyguard. No ands, ifs, or buts about it. One that they would be stuck with until they learned to be more mindful of their surroundings and to just think for a few seconds at the very least. Arthur would very much like both him and Guinevere to live long enough to see their grandchildren, thank you very much—which currently was not in the cards with all the stress their children and their friends, on top of the kingdom, were infecting them with.

“No sir.” Both boys sighed in sync, shooting glares at one another once they realized it.

“That’s what I thought.”

Thank the gods for the little mercies.

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“Daddy real mad at you.”

Loholt bit his lip to stop himself from making a snide remark, knowing that snapping at his youngest brother just because he was mad at his twin brother for getting them into this mess wasn’t going to do him any favors. “I know, Artie.”

Artie—or Arthur the Less as some very foolish people had called him before their parents swiftly put an end to that nonsense after adopting the three year old—looked at him with big blue wide eyes, sucking his thumb. “He thoughts you were hurted.”

And wasn’t that a slap to the face?

Loholt took a deep breath, silently cursing his twin’s thoughtlessness. It was his fault they were near the path in the first place and now they were going to be stuck with a bodyguard—a glorified chaperone—all because Llacheu had wanted to impress a girl. He had made their parents worry to impress a girl—it was infuriating. Especially since he didn’t even seem to realize how badly he had messed up when a three year old that had been living with their family for less than two months could see it.

“I know, Art. I know. I’ll try not to scare him and mom like that anymore.”

The blonde flashed him a big toothy smile. “Pwomise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Don’t say da D word!”

The older boy couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s just an expression buddy. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

Artie didn’t look like be believed him.

Which was far, he supposed. It wasn’t like he and Llacheu had the best track record after all (which, admittedly, was partially his fault).

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“That sounds stupid.” Kay the Tricky, one of Llacheu’s best friends, said scrunching up his nose at his friend’s plight. “How are you supposed to become a knight if you have a bodyguard watching your every move?”

Llacheu threw his hands up. “That’s what I’m wonderin’! This is going to be so embarrassing! ”

Cai the fair, Loholt and Llacheu’s other best friend, on the other hand had no sympathy for his friend. “And it serves you right. What were you thinking—going near the Path of No Return? That’s not going to impress Lady Florie of Kanadic! She’s going to flip her lid when she finds out about this, you nitwit!”

“Hey, who’s side are you on?!”

The blonde gave him an unimpressed look. “Your parents and Loholt’s side. That was a bad idea and you know it.”

The prince did know it, though he wasn’t going to wound his pride by admitting it; not when he was going to need said pride when the new bodyguard came and killed his most gracious social life—which he didn’t doubt for a second was going to die because no one his age wanted a babysitter, let alone deal with someone else’s babysitter. So yeah, his social life was definitely going to be dead.

And all for a plan that didn’t even work, because surprise, Cai the Fair was right about Florie not being impressed that Llacheu had chosen to foolishly endanger himself and his brother to get her attention instead of just asking to court her, like a more mature person would have—and now she wasn’t talking to him (or Loholt, when he was present) until he ‘saw the errors of his ways’. Great.

Just great.

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Two months.

It took their parents and their parents’ friends, as well as the castle staff, two—not one—TWO MONTHS to find the pair of princes a bodyguard that met ‘their requirements to a satisfactory extent’, as George put it when he fetched them that morning in place of their manservants (his sons) Brahms and Wendell.

Apparently the bodyguard had been vetted personally by almost every adult they knew.

Something the two princes agreed (for once) was humiliating. Honestly, their family was far too paranoid and protective at times for their liking—which of course was why Morgar was even here to begin with.

Morgar, that was the name of their bodyguard.

Their bodyguard who had beat out everyone else and met every expectation their family threw his way, answering all their questions the way they wanted him to or close enough that it didn’t even matter that it wasn’t what they fully wanted.

Somehow.

Even Loholt was in complete disbelief regarding those little facts that George had let slip after meeting the man in question. Because Morgar? He was nothing at all like they expected.

He wasn’t prim, proper, all work, and no play like George or bossy and annoying like the Steward and their childhood nanny who would sometimes watch them when their family was away for long periods of time were. He wasn’t overly protective like Uncles Elyan and Merlin, or constantly exasperated like Leon was.

No, he… was different.

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Morgar was a strange fellow with dark brown hair—swept off his forehead—and sharp hazel eyes that were ever seeing, who stood at just an inch or two shorter than the twins themselves. He had a snake tattoo on his right arm that seemed to switch positions every time they saw him and some kind of rune tattoos on his left arm that seemed to disappear under his clothing.

He wore long and tight looking black trousers with a matching scarf, faded brown boots that looked too small, a tan undershirt, a green tunic with medium length sleeves, and a dark green armored vest with a lighter green, almost yellowish, rose pattern on it that was like nothing the younger boys had ever seen before.

Morgar insisted that they call him ‘Morgie’ (what an odd nickname) and was rather laid back for someone who was being paid to defend the lives of the king’s children.

He was also snarky—always having something to say, oftentimes something wicked that would send both Llacheu and Loholt into fits of laughter that they tried and failed to suppress. Knowing that it wasn’t something their parents would approve of them finding funny.

He was goofy and made exaggerated faces and movements that would have annoyed the boys if they weren’t sure that it was just how Morgie was, and not him treating them like children.

Morgie was a few years older than the two of them—twenty, he said once when they asked—and he didn’t kill the social life of the princes by meddling, like they had feared he would. In fact, he was far less involved in their goings on than Loholt suspected their parents knew. Almost always out of sight of them when they went to hang out with their friends or to train, and rarely ever getting involved in their shenanigans until danger was posed and not before.

It was odd and not at all like the ever looming, never straying, boundary stomping bodyguards the two brothers had seen accompany other royal children before.

Morgie actually seemed to care about them and their privacy, more than he did his job, even.

It wasn’t anything like he was expecting.

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The assassination attempts didn’t start until a few weeks after Morgie had started working for The Pendragons.

Most would assume it was a coincidence or would say that their father’s paranoia had finally paid off with him having been well-prepared in advance for this type of thing (something their own father’s father hadn’t been nearly as prepared for), but that didn’t feel quite right. At least not in Llacheu’s mind—something he pointed out to his brother and their friends once Florie started talking to him (and the others while he was there) again.

“The assassination attempts on your dad’s life didn’t pick up until he was nearly twenty.” Florie pointed out, always the rational one of the group—never one to jump to conclusions—resting her chin on her fist out of boredom, readjusting her lavender dress. “Maybe the assassins just didn’t feel comfortable killing you before you had facial hair?”

Kay snorted at that, almost stabbing himself when he failed to catch the dagger he’s been tossing up and down for fun. Like their Uncle Gwaine did with his apples usually before he ate them—a habit his little son, Everard, was starting to pick up on. Luckily he didn’t thanks to Brahms’ quick reflexes. That could have ended in disaster and a long lecture from both their fathers who still weren’t happy about the last time that had happened.

“It…is a bit odd, though, don’t you think?” Wendell hummed, frowning thoughtfully—a look that was mirrored on both his brother’s face and Loholt’s. “That they started not too terribly long after Morgie was publicly dubbed L & L’s bodyguards?”

“Or that none of the assassins seem to be trying to actually get close to the princes they’re supposedly trying to kill in the first place?” Brahms added, swatting at Kay’s hand when he tried to take his knife back. Clearly not trusting their friend with it while he was distracted.

“That assassin from last week actually seemed pretty surprised when he was told he was under arrest for trying to kill the king’s sons, too.” Cai chimed in, peering down at the plate of fruit he’d borrowed from the kitchens for their hang out with furrowed brows. “As if he didn’t know who Loholt and Llacheu were.”

Florie still didn’t look completely convinced. “He could have been playing dumb in the hopes of getting a lesser punishment.”

“No.” Loholt finally spoke, shifting from where he was sitting on his bed. “No, that doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t most assassins willing to die if they fail? And those who aren’t wouldn’t be willing to bet their lives on that flimsy excuse. Not after how badly all the previous attempts on the rest of our family’s lives have gone.”

Llacheu pointed at Loholt. “Exactly! How is that not suspicious sounding!”

“I don’t know!” Florie groaned, frustrated. “None of this makes sense either way. Why would all these assassins be after your bodyguard who no one’s ever heard of before he showed up looking for a job?”

“That’s what we need to find out!”

The room went dead silent momentarily at the prince’s words, everyone looking at him with dread.

“What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“Llacheu, no.” Cai put his head in his hands. Florie grimaced. Wendell and Brahms sighed, looking resigned. Loholt looked like he couldn’t believe that the two of them were related (a look his girlfriend, Angelica, who had decided that she was firmly staying out of this conversation, shared as she glanced between them) and Kay?

He stopped trying to snatch his knife back from Brahms and snapped his fingers. “Llacheu, yes! That’s brilliant and exactly what we need to do!”

Loholt threw a pillow at him. “Don’t encourage him! Don’t you two ever learn anything?!”

"Ow! What was that for?!”

"This is why the twins even have Morgie as a bodyguard in the first place." Angelica groaned, burying her face in a throw pillow, her long silky black hair draping over the sides of it. Clearly done with both Kay and Llacheu, and rethinking her dreams of marrying Loholt and joining his family because of it. At least, that's what Llacheu—ever the one for theatre—thought she was thinking. "At the rate this is going, your father is going to lock you two in a tower and throw away the key so you'll stop getting into danger!”

"No he won't." Llacheu bristled. "Our dad's overprotective, sure, but he would never do anything like that. And even if he tried, I'm sure mom and our aunts and uncles wouldn't let him.”

Cai glanced at Wendell. "Ten silvers says that Sir Elyan will be the one helping the King lock them up."

The manservant gave him an unimpressed look. "I'm not taking that bet; It's so obvious that that's what's going to happen that it's physically painful.”

“Fair. I probably wouldn't have taken that bet either.”

“Aw come on guys!”

“No Llacheu!”

“I'm with Florie and Loholt here, this is a really bad idea.”

“Is it though?”

“You aren't helping Kay!”

“We are not snooping into your bodyguard’s personal life!”

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To absolutely no one's surprise, the group did in fact end up snooping into Morgar’s personal life after both Kay and Llacheu talked them into it.

At least that's the word they would use.

The others would say that they just got tired of them asking and.that they were going along with it so that the two trouble makers wouldn't get themselves killed.

(Not that anyone would believe them, if they said that, of course).

One would think that with the combined forces of two princes, two manservants, two princesses from separate kingdoms, and two squires (a total of eight people) and a library filled with scrolls that most people often forget even exist would be able to find something on one highly qualified young man turned bodyguard. Multiple somethings or just a single something, even.

But no.

To the group's absolute frustration, they couldn't find anything on the man.

No record of his birth.

No family lines.

Not even a whisper of a Morgar or a Morgie from any kingdom that could be even remotely capable of what they'd all seen the princes’ bodyguard do. It frustrated Llacheu so much that he was tempted to start throwing the useless books and scrolls across the room. But he didn't.

Mostly because Loholt, Geoffrey, Florie, and not to mention his parents would kill him if he destroyed any of the books in the castle or made more work for the castle staff. But also because he didn't really want to make more work for the castle staff in the first place and he knew that it wouldn't help their search if he did.

So, in a great show of restraint, Llacheu bit back his frustration and his complaints (unlike Kay) and continued his search. His friends all doing the same.

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“What are you up to?”

Llacheu gave his Uncle Merlin an innocent look that he didn't buy for a second. “What? You always tell me I should read more.”

“Yes, but court genealogy doesn't really seem like something you'd be interested in without an ulterior motive. So, I ask again. What are you up to and do I need to be prepared to stage a cover up?”

If Llacheu was seven again, he would have immediately given in and confessed to everything upon seeing Merlin cross his arms and raise the eyebrow of doom. But alas, he was not a little kid anymore. He was fifteen, so much more mature and so much more stubborn.

“I’m not up to anything. Honest. I'm just curious.”

Merlin sighed, shaking his head and sounding almost fond as he muttered “You are your parent's son.” Walking off with the herbs he'd collected for whatever potion or spell they were needed for. Which, considering that he was both the Court Sorcerer and the New Court Physician with a family and three apprentices (Gwenhwyfach, Guiomar, and Nyneve who had agreed to cover for Llacheu if asked, bless them) of his own, could be anything.

Including another prank on Llacheu's father or some kind of cleaning powder for George, who had taken over Merlin's duties when Giaus retired and Merlin was doubly promoted. Or so Uncle Gwaine's stories told.

(And who knew if those could be accurate, since he claimed that Uncle Will, Aunt Freya, Uncle Lancelot, and several other family friends had risen from the dead. Honestly, Llacheu wasn't born yesterday).

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“Hey Artie, what are you doing, buddy?” Llacheu asked, as casually as he could manage while praying for forgiveness to whoever was listening for the scheme he had just cooked up.

The three year old jumped away from his friends, looking guilty. “Nothin’.”

Everard and Dragonet (Merlin and Freya’s son) were hiding something behind their backs. If Llacheu was anybody else, like Loholt, he would have pried further. Unfortunately for everyone in the castle however, Llacheu was not Loholt, and thus did not pry further or even make a mental note to warn anyone ahead of time that the three were probably going to be causing chaos. Because what would the fun in that be?

Not to mention it would be rather hypocritical of him considering what the prince was about to ask the three toddlers to do.

“Do you want something to do?”

The trio of trouble making toddlers looked at him, immediately intrigued as every ounce of guilt drained out of them. Artie shared a look with his two friends briefly before finally answering, albeit hesitantly. “Maybe…”

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Llacheu's plan went off without a hitch, despite not being very-Loholt approved.

Artie’s trio of friends had barely even needed to be bribed with the offer of sweets at all after the older Prince had showed them his (non lethal) handmade, very realistic knock off version of Uncle Merlin’s spell book that he never willingly let any of them touch unsurprised and told them that he wanted them to run around the castle with it. He'd only really needed to bribe them into doing it in front of their parents but even then it wasn't really hard to convince them.

The offer of getting to play with a spellbook, even one that wasn't excitedly dangerous, was just too tempting of a chance to pass up. Just like Llacheu knew it would be.

“Arthur Gaius Pendragon the 2nd—”

“Everard, please, before you give your old man a heart attack—”

“Dragonet William Bailnoir Hunithson, put the spellbook down!”

Llacheu would have felt bad if it wasn't so funny watching his dad, Uncle Merlin, and Uncle Gwaine get evaded again and again by three kids barely out of diapers with a kid friendly spellbook. If only he had a sketchbook and some artistic talent so he could capture this moment, and remember it forever. Alas, he had neither of those things nor the time.

As soon as the teenage prince was sure no one was around he slipped into the Physician Chambers and snagged his Uncle’s real spellbook. Silently sending his Uncle an apology for the chaos he'd sent his devil spawn to cause as he slipped back out, and headed back to the stables where the others were supposed to meet him.

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“This isn't going to work.”

“Yes it will.” Llacheu rolled his eyes.

His brother and friends didn’t look convinced, and neither did his father’s prized horses (Hengroen and Llamrei) and favorite dogs (Cavall and Glessic). Which, rude, because as far as his plans usually went this one was actually probably one of his better ones.

“You need magic to make a spell work and you don’t have magic.” Loholt reminded, apparently unwilling to let go of that particular argument.

“Yeah, well none of you have magic either and we can’t afford to wait for Nyneve or Gwenhwyfach to get off work. So me it is—Guiomar!”

The physician-in-training immediately peaked his head into the stables. “All clear so far.” Then he retreated back into position before anyone could say anything else, throwing in his own two cents as he did. “And for the record, I believe he can do it.”

Kay cackled, the only other one who believed that there was even the slightest chance of this working.

“See, this isn’t a complete lost cause!” Llacheu smirked. “Now, everybody stand back—ah bollocks, where’d I put the chalk?”

Wendell handed it to him. “This better work because cleaning that off the wood before anyone notices is going to be a right pain—”

“It’ll work!”

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The outline of Morgie was drawn.

The herbs and oils were applied.

The candles were lit and Morgie’s anchor (in this case, his scarf) was pinned in the center of it all.

All that was left for the group of nine to do was the spell—but Llacheu just couldn’t seem to get it right.

On the first attempt, the candles went out. On the second, the doors blew open—hitting Guiomar in the backside. On the third, the building shook and by the fourth, the young prince was starting to lose the high confidence and small amount of hope that this would work; which made it all the more fitting that that was when he finally managed to pronounce the damn thing right.

“A éireachtach Dé Lúth-chuimhne, tabhair dom an t-údarás a implaim, agus tóg an ceanglaigh seo ionas go bhfeicim an fhírinne.” The words felt awkward on the youth’s tongue and sent a strange warmth throughout his body, his eyes especially and if he had to guess he’d wager that they were glowing—which would explain the startled looks he was getting. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that as the flames of the candles raised high into the air and the outline of Morgie blazed to life.

The spell of truth was a spell created to sniff out imposters and trace children’s liege in the hopes of finding someone who could take them in—but it was a spell that many had forgotten existed. Their uncle Merlin included. But Llacheu? He remembered. The summary and name of the spell not having left his mind since he’d first read about it all those years ago when he’d first gotten a peak at his godfather’s spellbook when he was eight years old and bored while waiting for the man to finish brewing the nasty medicine required for whatever affliction he’d had at the time.

Llacheu hadn’t known if the spell would actually work if he’d been the one to read it, but he’d had a hunch. Just like he had a hunch that when the light faded, they would finally know at least some of the answers to their questions.

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Loholt stared at the words that had appeared in the outline of Morgie, feeling faint as he leaned against one of the stalls.

“Who the fuck is Madoc? I thought his name was Morgar?” Kay grumbled, crossing his arms. “Are you sure you grabbed the right scarf?”

“Yes I’m sure!” Llacheu snapped, tired of people asking him that question—tired of just questions in general, actually. Which is what they had just gotten more of because it turns out they didn’t really know their bodyguard at all.

Because the spell of truth?

It had just revealed to them that his name was not in fact Morgar or even Morgie, as they’d previously thought, but instead Prince Madoc Pendragon, son of Morgana Pendragon. As in, Llacheu and Loholt’s father’s evil half sister, Morgana Pendragon, who had died at the Battle of Camlann when trying to kill their father and likely everyone else they loved and held dear.

Which beared the question—if the spell had actually worked, which it most certainly had, then why was Morgana’s son currently acting as their bodyguard and what did he want?

Why hadn’t he killed them yet?

The number of assassins that threatens the prince skyrocket after the king hired the new bodyguard. The king thought that is money well spent, the prince however know the truth. Those assassins weren't after his life, they are after his bodyguard's! And he is determined to find out why.

#merlin bbc #merlin next gen #the adventures of merlin #next generation #one shot #ocs based off of arthurian legends #arthur pendragon #parent arthur pendragon #parent gwen pendragon #gwen x arwen #uncle merlin

3K notes · View notes

tiodolma · 2 years ago

Note

Prequels scenes nonsense, pt. 2

Arthur: *enamored of the Earl of London's daughter*

Merlin: I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Arthur: But she's so beautiful and different from all the girls. *gushes*

Merlin: Need I remind you you're married?

Days later...

Arthur: *making out with the earl's daughter*

Merlin: *seeing them from in the distance* Dammit, I told him not to!

....

Merlin: *playing with the twins*

Igraine: I see you didn't waste your time.

Merlin: It just happened.

Igraine: Like Mordred?

Merlin: *nods* Like Mordred.

...

Merlin: *snoring in Morgan's bed*

Morgan: Merlin, wake up. *hisses*

Merlin: Go back to bed, love.

Morgan: 😳 *kicks him off the bed, trying not to blush*

...

Merlin: *holding his fourth son* He got a name?

Morgan: Why don't you name this one?

Merlin: *looks at her in surprise*

Morgan: *smiling* Go on.

Merlin: Mabon.

Morgan: I like that.

...

Arthur: *seeing the twins* They're a mix of the both of you.

Merlin: His mother begs to differ.

Arthur: *snorts* Who is it this time?

Merlin: Her great grandmother's grandmother's mother.

...

Merlin: *spoons Morgan*

Morgan: Dammit, Merlin. *hisses*

Merlin: *keeps snoring*

...

Notes: Just thought you'd like something a bit funny, angsty and sweet as well. Sincerely, Spamming Anon.

THIS IS SO HOT THOUGH?! domestic merlin x morgan ftw

#camelot mergane #starz camelot #camelot merlin #camelot morgane #ilove their married twice divorced vibes in the show tbh

0 notes

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years ago

Text

Twin!AU Part 2:

Gwaine is ecstatic to find that he’s technically dating Royalty (Arthur still isn’t best pleased), and Merlin begins to recover his true heritage.

Part 1 Part 3

Gwaine stares at the two of them open-mouthed from where he sits on the edge of the bed.

Re-telling the story had re-ignited Merlin and Arthur’s anger, but they do a good job of keeping it in as Gwaine tries to process that his partner and The Prince of Camelot are... twins. Gods this sounds like something out of one of Leon’s ridiculous fiction books: long lost royal twins and insane Kings and emotional reunions with long-dead, ghostly relatives. But to be fair, Gwaine has found that in all of his travels, Camelot has definitely been the weirdest place he’s ever been. Or perhaps it’s just the people.

He finally shuts his mouth, nodding slowly as he takes a deep breath and stands. He wipes his sweaty hands down his trousers briefly before stepping forward and pulling Merlin into a hug, making pointed eye-contact with Arthur over his shoulder. The only thing that Gwaine and Arthur had ever agreed on was that Merlin’s safety was of the upmost importance; this whole ordeal had just strengthened that agreement:

“That’s... you guys have had one hell of a day, huh? You said Gaius, and your mo- Hunith, and that bloody Dragon knew?”

Merlin tenses in his arms before pulling away, and Arthur’s expression turns stormy once more as he nods. Gwaine frowns, keeping one hand on Merlin’s shoulder as the servant (Prince?) responds bitterly:

“Hmm. We haven’t spoken to Kilgharrah or Hunith yet, but they’ll be getting a bloody mouthful from me, when we get time.”

Gwaine nods sympathetically, muttering his reply more to himself than the others:

“...Bastards.”

Arthur nods, but takes a deep breath as he puts his own hand on Merlin’s other shoulder:

“Agreed, but we’ve been gone too long; Leon’s been dealing with the council for at least half an hour and we need to go explain things sooner rather than later. News of my- The King’s arrest will spread like wildfire once it gets out.”

Merlin sighs, sagging slightly where he stands, and Gwaine steps even closer to him, moving his arm to be over his shoulder in a side-hug:

“Hey, I’m sure Arthur and Leon can deal with this if you’d rather hide out in here for a little peace. We could always set Morgana loose on the council, she’s bound to whip them into shape.”

(Yes, this fic is ignoring the timeline both in terms of the knights AND Morgana. She knows about Merlin’s magic, and Merlin, Arthur, and Gwaine (and Lance) know about hers.)

Merlin lets out a quiet huff of laughter, leaning into Gwaine’s side slightly as he looks up:

“No, I can’t. Arthur’s right, we need to sort this out sooner rather than later. I’d be perfectly content to not tell anyone about who I really am-”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow and Arthur narrows his eyes, ready to protest, but is interrupted by Merlin’s loud continuation before he can say anything:

“-but I know neither of you will let me get away with that so... here we are.”

Arthur nods decisively and Gwaine hides a grin, clearly thinking about how he’s technically courting a Prince. Arthur rolls his eyes at Gwaine’s expression, a small part of him cursing himself for letting the drunkard stay in Camelot, but the rest of him is grateful, knowing that Merlin needed more than Arthur on his side, especially now he had lost, or partially lost, Gaius, Kilgharrah, and Hunith.

The blonde Prince lets out a deep sigh, looking towards the door despondently as he decides that they really can’t leave Leon to fend for himself any longer. The three of them make their way from the room wordlessly, but Arthur halts the group again at the end of the corridor, turning to Gwaine with a thoughtful frown:

“Go find Elyan, Percival, Lancelot, Morgana, and Gwen. Gaius is a member of the council so he should already be there but double check he isn’t in his chambers, and Leon may have fetched Morgana himself, but I don’t know.”

Gwaine turns to look at Merlin and speaks quietly:

“What should I tell them?”

Merlin’s frown deepens and he glances at Arthur, but he just shrugs slightly, giving the choice to Merlin:

“They’ll all find out in the meeting anyway, so it might be best to pre-warn them so they aren’t blind-sided. Tell them the truth, I was born with magic, and am Arthur’s long lost twin brother, confirmed by Igraine’s ghost and then Gaius.”

He looks bewildered as he says it, almost as though he doesn’t fully believe it quite yet; Arthur nods in agreement and continues his instructions to Gwaine:

“Have everyone meet us there as soon as possible, I want to get this sorted now and I’m going to need as many people on my side as I can get.”

Gwaine nods seriously, pressing a brief kiss against Merlin’s forehead before rushing off in the other direction, hurriedly knocking on the knights’ doors down the corridor as Merlin and Arthur turn the corner.

They make quick work of the journey back through the castle, stopping just outside the doors to the Throne Room with sweaty palms and shivering lungs. The two of them listen to the annoyed sounding murmurs coming from inside for a few moments and the guards try not to give them odd looks as Arthur glances to Merlin—stood at his side instead of behind him—with a fond, though nervous smile. He puts his hand on the other man’s shoulder:

“We’re about to cause one hell of an argument, you ready?”

Merlin takes a deep, calming breath, smiling briefly as he hears Leon pleading with the council to be patient for just a little longer, looking to Arthur with anxious eyes and pale cheeks:

“Yeah. Come on, I think Leon might hurl himself from the window if we make him wait much longer.”

Arthur chuckles quietly, and the guards quickly divert their gazes when he looks back to the doors, taking one last fortifying lungful before walking forward and pushing them open with a bang, Merlin at his side.

The room goes suddenly quiet and Leon visibly relaxes when they walk in, bowing briefly before stepping aside and allowing Arthur to take his place in front of the thrones. There is no table in the Throne Room, so the council stand gathered in the middle, staring up at Arthur incredulously as he runs a hand down the arm of The King’s throne absent-mindedly. He was grateful to see Gaius present, despite not being in any sort of mood to talk to the man; he holds a smirk in when he sees several of the councilmen raise eyebrows at Merlin, still stood at his side when he technically shouldn’t even be in the room. There was even further incredulity as Sir Leon moves to stand guard behind him, as opposed to The Prince.

One of the Lords nearer the front of the small crowd finally breaks the tense silence:

“My Lord, what is the meaning of this? We were told it was an emergency, that we were meeting in the Throne Room as opposed to the council room, and were then made to wait for almost a candle-mark. The King has yet to arrive, what is going on?

Arthur turns to look at them with a raised eyebrow, back straight and face impassive:

“Patience, Lord Angar, The King will not be joining us, though we are waiting for a few more-”

The doors open before he finishes and every head turns to see the remaining knights, Gwen, and Lady Morgana enter, led by a serious looking Gwaine. All of them give Merlin a small smile and a bewildered nod, bar Morgana, who looks nothing short of furious as she moves to stand protectively at his side, glaring at any councilman who dares to look their way. The knights spread out, standing to attention with hands on their swords around the edge of the room, whilst Gwen moves to stand against the wall behind Morgana, Merlin, and Leon. Only Gwaine, Leon, and Lancelot are in full armour, but all the knights are armed and angry looking.

The councilmen, looking more confused and annoyed, look back to a still impassive Arthur. He fixes a short glare on each and every one of them before turning to face them properly and speaking confidently, his tone inviting no argument:

“The King has been arrested and confined to his chambers for the murder of the late Queen, and gross crimes against the Kingdom.-”

The room immediately explodes into angry and incredulous yelling, and Merlin flinches away from the sudden noise. Morgana squeezes his wrist comfortingly, knowing that it was only going to get worse when the rest of the truth is revealed, and Leon steps out from behind him, moving to be at his side with his sword halfway out of it’s sheath.

The other knights and Gwen all tense in place and Gwaine has to resist the urge to run to Merlin, knowing that the council’s disdain for both him personally and his courtship with Merlin would just make things worse. Arthur rolls his eyes at the cacophony of noise and slams the metal part of his gauntlet against the arm of the throne with a bang:

“ENOUGH! You’ll find, gentlemen, that remaining calm and quiet will make this conversation much easier.-”

He glowers at everyone until the hall is drowning in another tense silence before taking a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his hands from fidgeting as he continues:

“-It has come to my attention, through the Witch Morgause-”

A few murmurs of dissent go around the room, but they quickly cease when even the ever-calm Sir Leon begins to glare at people:

“-and further confirmation by The Court Physician, that King Uther used sorcery, against The late Queen’s wishes, in order to conceive a child. He was warned of the dangers, and went ahead with his plan anyway, which resulted in not only the birth of twins, one of whom was magical, but the death of the Queen.-”

At the mention of Gaius, the elderly Physician gets a few confused glances, and even more glares; no one likes being kept out of the loop, especially when everyone there is a Lord except Gaius. At the mention of twins, everyone’s attention is abruptly back on Arthur, and the knights have to resist the urge to look at Merlin, in fear of giving anything away too early.

Before he can continue, Arthur is interrupted by Lord Angar again:

“My Lord, I very much doubt the validity of anything you have just said, but either way, is this really the sort of meeting to be had with servants, a Lady, and your peasant knights present? I know you’re oddly fond of them but-”

Arthur, Leon, and Morgana have to resist the urge to punch the Lord in the face at his words. Gwen, Percival, Lancelot, and Elyan manage to keep their faces neutral, though Gwaine glowers openly. The knight does however hold in his smirk when he notices the fury on Arthur’s face. The Prince takes a threatening step forward but doesn’t lower himself from the dais as he speaks, his tone cold:

“Lady Morgana, Guinevere, and Merlin have proven to be better advisors to me than you ever have Lord Angar; Sirs Percival, Elyan, Lancelot, and Gwaine are amongst the best knights this Kingdom has ever seen, and you will show every one of them the respect they deserve, or you will excuse yourself from this room, and this council. Am I understood?”

The red of Angar’s face gets more severe as he splutters:

“My Lord you can not be-”

“Am I understood?!-”

Arthur’s voice cuts through everyone in the room, despite it’s low volume, and where Leon hides his proud smirk, Morgana doesn’t hold back at all, especially when Angar takes a deep breath and nods his purple head in embarrassment. The rest of the council seems to finally have grasped the seriousness and severity of the situation and play close attention to Arthur as he continues, no one daring to interrupt again:

“-This information changes everything we know about sorcery; my father started a genocide against an innocent group of people because he was too much of a coward to admit his mistakes and refused to take the rightful blame for killing his wife. I will not stand for this, and things will change very soon. If you are not outraged at the unjustness of his actions, at the death and suffering he has caused our people, the people we are meant to serve and protect, then you are more than welcome to leave. Meetings to organise and begin the process of legalising magic will start early tomorrow, and I will be accepting no excuses, this is non-negotiable. As for the matter of my twin brother...-”

Arthur glances back to Merlin, and at his slight nod, Arthur shoots him a small smile and holds his hand out to him. Merlin walks slowly forward to the sound of the council gasping and muttering to themselves, Leon stays barely a hair’s breadth behind him with his sword fully drawn:

“-may I present Prince Myrddin Pendragon.-”

Lord Angar, among others, looks seconds away from bursting once more, so Arthur hurries to continue, though still manages to keep his voice forceful and confident:

“-This information was unconfirmed for both of us until around a candle-mark ago; I have never believed in fate before now, though I think we can all be grateful that The Prince managed to return to Camelot all on his own.-”

He settles his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t pull him forward too much, understanding that his serv- his brother, probably wants to be as far away from the centre of attention as he can get.

“-I want him presented to The Kingdom and crowned before the month is out, this matter is also non-negotiable. Any questions?”

Lord Angar looks desperate to start yelling, but he also seems to have finally accepted that his influence over this room, and now the council in general, was tenuous at best. One of the newer councilmen, a young Lord who Arthur has a slowly growing respect for, steps forward slightly, bowing his head before meeting Arthur’s gaze and quietly asking:

“And The King, My Lord? Should we plan for your coronation as well?”

It was clear that the question was unexpected and Arthur frowns at the realisation that he had... arrested The King. Uther may have deserved it, but Arthur couldn’t bring himself to order his execution, and knowing Merlin he’d argue against it endlessly anyway.

Morgana senses Arthur’s hesitation after a second or two, thankfully before the council becomes restless and annoyed:

“You could always take over as Regent whilst we sort all of this out; that way we can revisit the issue of actually crowning you King later. Though we can’t confine Uther to his chambers forever, we’ll have to deal with him at some point.”

Arthur hums and nods, giving her a thankful smile before looking back to the young Lord:

“Lady Morgana’s suggestion is sound. I’ll take over as Regent,-”

He nods at Geoffrey of Monmouth, who takes a note down in the giant leather tome he perpetually has under his arm. If Arthur thinks about it for too long, he might come to the conclusion that the older man looks proud:

“-and we can revisit the issue when the dust has settled.-”

He rubs his eyes tiredly, as though the last day or so of drama had finally landed with it’s full weight upon his shoulders:

“-I think it goes without saying that, for now, none of this is to leave the room. I trust only Sir Leon with assigning who is to guard The King,-”

He glances to Leon, who nods seriously at his words:

“-keep it discreet Leon. I want to keep as much of this under wraps for as long as possible to avoid public panic; this is going to be a lot of hard work gentlemen, but I mean to see it through with or without your support, the choice is yours. The first meeting will take place in the normal council room tomorrow, two candle-marks after dawn. You’re all dismissed.”

The councilmen—including Gaius, after he sends a forlorn look Merlin’s way—slowly trickle out of the room, some looking angry, most looking resigned, but a few looking rather content, happy even (Arthur and Morgana take mental notes of who is who). The door shuts quietly behind the last man, leaving only Arthur, Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, and the knights left, all of whom understanding that the dismissal did not include them. Arthur lets out a deep sigh when the room quietens, looking back up to Merlin with a tired smile and even more tired eyes:

“Ready brother?”

He quirks an amused, but hugely pleased eyebrow as he says it and Merlin grins, rolling his eyes fondly:

“Not even close, but that’s never stopped me before.”

Arthur chuckles as the others all move closer, an odd mix of exasperated, because Merlin turning out to be Arthur’s long lost magical twin is exactly the sort of insanely dramatic thing that’s likely to happen in Camelot, and hesitant, because... how do they even deal with that? Other than with a great deal of confusion?

Gwen is the first to reach him, pulling Merlin into a tight hug that is very well received:

“I’m sorry Merlin, I can’t imagine how difficult this must be, and I’m so terribly sorry for all the horrible things I’ve said about magic.-”

She pulls back but doesn’t let go of his shoulders, staring up at him with tears in her eyes and a desperate look on her face:

“-You know that we all love, and trust you, don’t you??”

Merlin rolls his eyes fondly and pulls her back into a hug with a wide smile on his face:

“Of course I know that, I love you too Gwen. And don’t worry about it, you believed what you were taught, it’s not your fault.”

She looks like she wants to argue again when she pulls back, but Merlin just pats her cheek softly and gives her a warning glare. She huffs but dutifully steps back, allowing Gwaine to take her place as the rest of the knights pat his shoulders and run soft hands through his hair as way of apology and comfort.

Merlin smiles at them, but sobers quickly when a particularly horrible thought re-occurs to him. Gwaine squeezes his shoulder in question and Arthur furrows his brows:

“Merls?”

Merlin just sighs and leans into Gwaine’s side slightly:

“I need to talk to my... Hunith. And Kilgharrah, but I really don’t have the energy for him right now.”

Arthur nods in understanding, thinking for a moment before looking up to the huddle of knights (most of whom look marginally confused at the mention of whoever the hell Kilgharrah is):

“Percival, Lancelot, you know where Ealdor is?-”

The two of them nod, remembering the route from visiting with Merlin a few months ago:

“-Leave at dawn, take an extra horse and bring Hunith back with you. With all that’s going on, me and Merlin can’t afford to be gone for even a day and it’s a four days’ journey there and back.”

They nod, but Lancelot quickly responds with a quiet:

“We can leave now if you like, it’s not like the journey will take much prep. What should we tell her?”

He looks to Merlin, who frowns slightly as he replies, his words slow:

“Don’t tell her anything, Arthur and I need to have that conversation with her. She’ll panic when you turn up without me so feel free to tell her that we’re all alive and uninjured and not in any danger but... just don’t tell her the real reason.”

Their smiles are understanding, and just a little pitying, but they turn and march off the moment Arthur nods at them in approval, determined to do everything they can to make things go smoothly and easily.

It’s Elyan that breaks the now slightly uncomfortable silence a few moments later:

“So... do we still call you Merlin? Or is it Prince Myrddin, My Lord?”

Merlin grimaces the moment Elyan mentions what would soon be his official title, and the others grin at his reaction, chuckling as he runs a hand through his hair:

“No one’s called me Myrddin since I was about five, and I think it would be a little odd if that changed now, so Merlin is just fine.”

The others nod in agreement, though Arthur sighs as he responds, faux annoyance in his tone:

“Paperwork’s going to be bloody confusing.”

It takes Merlin all of three hours to figure out that Arthur had subtly assigned him a constant guard. The guard consists of Sirs Leon and Gwaine, so he isn’t... complaining, per se, but it's annoying, to escape company for a quick piss to find his partner and friend casually hovering right outside the door.

But to be fair, Merlin only notices when his brain registers that Gwaine isn’t there, and how odd that is. Whilst Merlin is interrogating Leon, Arthur is cornering Gwaine in a seldom used corridor, though the rambunctious knight beats Arthur to the punch:

“I think we’ve been here before, Princess.”

Arthur raises an amused eyebrow at Gwaine’s teasing grin, before sagging slightly in place and sighing. Gwaine sobers immediately, putting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder and trying to meet his gaze:

“Arthur?”

Arthur sighs again, looking up to him with tired eyes:

“This goes without saying, but Merlin.... he is everything to me. As far as I’m concerned he and Morgana are my only family, though I suppose I believed that before all of... this; but that’s besides the point. I know you won’t ever mean to hurt him, and I do trust you, as... difficult as that is to admit, but I need to you understand, Gwaine,-”

Gwaine nods in understanding and agreement:

“I do understand, Arthur. He’s everything to me as well.”

Arthur shakes his head and steps back, bringing himself to his full height:

“No, you don’t. He is my brother, and he was taken from me. He has suffered, more than I think either of us will ever know, and that stops, this Kingdom is now being built for him. But I would burn it all down if it would make him happy. Everything is for him, for Morgana, for my family. Do you understand?”

Gwaine nods, only once, before holding his hand out. Neither his hand nor his voice shakes as he responds:

“I’ll pour the oil, you light the match.”

Arthur pauses for a moment, as if trying to gauge his own trust in the other man, before clasping Gwaine’s hand strongly.

The seriousness of the moment ends when Gwaine lifts his other hand to tug sharply at Arthur’s hair before ducking under his arm and skipping down the corridor towards where they’d left Merlin and Leon. Arthur just huffs and follows him, definitely not sulking.

Merlin turns to them both with a scowl when they enter, immediately taking note of the residual gravity in the tightness of Gwaine’s shoulders:

“And what have you two been doing all of sudden?”

Leon bites his lip to stop himself from snorting in amusement, but fails miserably the moment Gwaine shrugs and opens his mouth:

“I don’t know, some sort of mutual arson pact I think.”

Arthur rolls his eyes first at Gwaine subtly, then at Merlin, far more obviously:

“Honestly Merlin, we’ve spent practically every second with you all day, you can’t go a few minutes without us?”

Merlin huffs noisily and turns around to grab Leon’s wrist, dragging him from the room and not looking over his shoulder as he snarks:

“Leon’s always been my favourite knight anyway.”

Gwaine and Arthur just look outraged, both speaking at the same time:

“Hang on, what about me?!”

They fix each other with narrow-eyed glares before shoving each other childishly, fighting over who could shoulder their way through the door first.

The next conversation, a few days later, is... a lot harder.

With Kilgharrah’s odd ability to seemingly know about everything that happens in Camelot, Merlin couldn’t get away with putting off speaking to him for long, especially with how The Warlock could feel the way he was angrily clomping about in his cave.

The short journey down through the dungeons, made by Arthur, Merlin, and Gwaine, was made mostly in silence. The oppressive feeling of Kilgharrah’s mishmash of emotions bouncing around in Merlin’s head made focusing on any other strain of thought impossible, and Gwaine and Arthur were too busy stewing in their own anger and worry to want to disturb him.

They pause momentarily outside the large iron gates leading to Kilgharrah’s lair, none of them looking to each other as they take deep breaths in an attempt to gather some bravery. Arthur and Gwaine have never said anything, but Kilgharrah terrifies the shit out of both of them; Merlin normally takes these trips alone—Arthur and Gwaine’s fear wasn’t difficult to pick up on and he never wanted to make them uncomfortable—allowing the other two their blissfully ignorant beauty sleep as he sneaks away to argue with a Dragon. But that’s obviously not in the cards today; no way either of them would let him face this alone.

Kilgharrah is waiting for them when they push open the gate and stalk out onto the ledge, and he raises himself to his full height, sparing barely a glance in Arthur’s direction and sparing Gwaine even less as he stares at Merlin with aloof, golden eyes:

“You have discovered who you are, Young Warlock, at long-”

Merlin interrupts him with a scowl and a held up hand:

“You had no right,-”

His voice is echoingly deadly, and the two knights find themselves being reminded of Merlin’s seemingly endless power. Merlin being angry at Gaius was... was like a child being heartbroken at a parent’s betrayal, which it was in some ways. But Merlin being angry at Kilgharrah... that was much more; like a God being angry at a creature of His own design. Merlin stands before The Great Beast, centuries old, full of unimaginable knowledge, and he stands tall, and proud, and angry.

“-no right, to keep this from me. You claim that no one can know their destiny, and then proceed to prattle on about mine in riddles. In my search for answers, you gave me more questions. In my search for comfort, you gave me fear. In my begging for help, you gave me nothing but pain. I’m done, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

Kilgharrah bristles, flaring his arched nostrils as his furious reaction ripples across his hardened scales:

“How dare you compare me to-”

Merlin interrupts him with a yell, his voice growling in it’s reverberation, a hidden power more ancient than the mountains themselves echoing in his words:

“You separated my brother from me and you had no right! You whine about how Uther took your kin from you, but you took my kin from me! You suffered so you made it your greatest goal to make everyone else suffer just as much. You are cruel, and cowardly, and I am done. You will not manipulate me anymore, you will not lie to me, or mislead me. You tried to get me to kill the boy, but I didn’t, and I forgave you. You tried to get me to kill Morgana, but I didn’t, and I forgave you. You keep trying to get me to free you, but I won’t. You will rot in here until you can tell me the truth, a truth I deem worthy, on why you kept my heritage from me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, turning on his heel and marching out of the gate without another word, Gwaine following closely behind. Arthur stays, just for a few moments, though with Merlin’s sudden display of power over the beast before him he finds himself significantly less frightened:

“He’s right, you know. Every one of my brother’s successes has come to pass because he ignored you. You have haunted him every step of the way, causing nothing but grief; you should be grateful, Merlin has offered you a chance of redemption that I would not have.”

Arthur doesn’t wait for a response either, jogging up the steps to catch up with the other two just exiting the dungeons.

Merlin doesn’t ask what was said, though Gwaine does raise an eyebrow in The Prince Regent’s direction; Arthur gives him a short nod, acknowledging Gwaine’s need to know, need to keep a tight hold on everything so he could keep Merlin safe and happy. Or as happy as he can keep him in this situation. Gwaine relaxes when he understands Arthur’s promise to tell him later, trusting the blonde to have Merlin’s best interests at heart.

The slight relaxation doesn’t last long however; Merlin heads up through the castle towards the large doors leading into the courtyard. The other two follow him, knowing that the younger man likely needs some fresh air to recover from the pressing darkness and power and heaviness of Kilgharrah’s presence, but they quickly tense when he suddenly halts on the steps just outside the doors.

When they peer over his shoulder, they are abruptly reminded of the amount of time that had passed since Percival and Lancelot had left. And apparently returned.

Hunith dismounts her horse quickly, her mouth stretching into a relieved smile as she runs towards him. Merlin doesn’t move, just stares at her with blank eyes, and Gwaine’s eyes shift nervously between the two of them. Hunith’s relief is quickly dropped when she notices Merlin’s non-reaction, and she slows just before she ascends the steps, looking up at Merlin with her brow creased in worry:

“Son?”

Merlin’s expression hardens; his hands clench and his eyes and tone turn icy as he responds:

“I’m not your son.”

END of part 2!!!

Sorry to be a teeeaaasssee :))))) (Not really)

I’ve recently got a BUNCH more hours at work (which is like... good for me personally but not so great for my social life or hobbies lol) so things might take a little longer to come out from now, but I promise this blog is still ultra active and going!! I’ll just only have time to write in the evenings nowadays.

I’m not sure when part 3 will be, but it’s in the works and won’t be too long!! Two weeks at absolute MOST I imagine :D

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heavy-is-the-crown-if · 2 years ago

Text

The game will be rated 18+ for strong languages, heavy themes, and the possible presence of explicit sexual content.

Heavy is the crown...

That's the first thing Merlin said to you after you woke up in their tower (right after he told you that you were definitely not what he expected but that “we'd deal with it.” But how much weight can a bruised ego carry in the face of the survival of a Kingdom?)

For generations, your family has been in charge of protecting the Sword of Light, and like every 1st born of your generation, it's up to you to pass it on to its true owner.

And here you are, with Clarent, the twin blade of excalibur in your hands. And according to Merlin that's enough to send you on a quest.

You must at all costs reunite the knights of the round table, find Arthur and Morgana and save Camelot (you must also defeat Uther Pendragon, but we'll see about that later...)

Anyway, Merlin has assured you that they will accompany you. They're a powerful sorcerer, right? So what could go wrong?

Arthur Pendragon/Le Fay (The Young Dragon) He/Him

Everyone portrays the young king of Camelot as fair, loyal and kind, and while your family is no stranger to complimenting the young dragon, they know there is more to him than this bright side. Dark whispers also follow the discussion about the young king among your own. And if every coin has two sides, one can only wonder which one you will meet.