#merlin micro fic prompts

[merlinmicrofic]

Behold, the October Round Prompts!

1. Harvest | 2. "Almost." | 3. Library

For info on how this works, please check this post.

Please remember - when posting to tumblr, please name ship/characters/gen relationship, the prompt(s) you're filling, and, if needed, rating + warnings (so, for example: "Fill for @merlinmicrofic prompt 'Library', Leon/Arthur, Teen, MCD") at the top of your post!

Prompts can be interpreted loosely, although if you pick the dialogue prompt, the line should make an appearance!

Remember, your fic has to be 500 words or shorter! For an additional challenge, make it an exact drabble (100 words to the point!) When you post to tumblr, we'll check wordcounts with wordcount.com

Places/ways you can post: only to tumblr, to our AO3 collection, or to both. Whichever way you choose, do make sure to make a tumblr post of some kind and tag this blog directly, so that we can reblog it, and log it for the masterlist!

Reminder that prompts can be submitted through the ask box (see here for more info), and one of the monthly prompts will be picked from those by random choice! This month, prompt 3 was submitted by an anon - thank you! <3

If you have any more questions that aren't answered by the posts linked in our pinned post, please don't hesitate to reach out.

Most importantly, have fun! <3

[adhd-merlin]

title: the defector

Arthur & Merlin ● Gen ● Words: 548 (I am once again invoking the margin of goodwill) ● No Warnings ● Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the August prompt: "Tell me."

Summary: Canon-era AU. In which Merlin met Morgana before he met Arthur — after she had already turned against Camelot.

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

“Why should I let you live — let alone trust a word you say?” Arthur asks the sorcerer kneeling at his feet. He tips the boy's head up with the point of his sword. “Tell me.”

The boy doesn't look afraid. He should be, chained up and surrounded by enemies as he is. Then again, he did hand himself over.

It's still unclear what caused such disregard for his own life — if overconfidence, world-weariness or insanity. The last two wouldn’t surprise Arthur. Five years of war can do that to a man.

Yet the boy keeps his head very still.

“You shouldn't kill me because I can help you defeat Morgana,” he says. “As for trusting me… if I wanted to harm you, you would be dead already. I have no need for a ruse.”

Two of Arthur's men shift uneasily behind the boy. Leon places his hand on his sword.

Arthur lowers his.

“Bold claim from a man in chains. And these are no ordinary ones — they've held Nimueh herself. You think you're more powerful than her?”

There's a flash of defiance in the boy's eyes — and then of gold. The chains fall to the ground like withered leaves hit by a gust of wind.

“You tell me.”

All of Arthur's men draw their swords at once. Arthur points his too, his heart pounding.

The boy's bravado cracks. He staggers to his feet with his hands raised — an appeasing gesture, Arthur realises, but one easy to misconstrue.

Leon and Gwaine seize his arms — as if that could do anything to stop a sorcerer.

“I don't want to harm you!” the boy protests, alarmed, when Gwaine's sword presses against his throat.

Gwaine's eyes are fixed on Arthur's face, waiting for a signal. So are the boy's eyes, blue and pleading.

Slowly, Arthur lowers his sword again, gesturing at his men to do the same. They reluctantly obey, but Leon and Gwaine don't let go of the boy.

“Sire…” Leon starts, but he seems unsure how to finish his warning.

“You know she cannot be killed by any mortal weapon,” the boy says when Leon falls silent. “So did your father — it's why he kept the dragon alive. But he won't listen to you, will he?”

If he meant to get Arthur's attention, he succeeded.

It is true that, so far, Morgana has proved unkillable. Some say her sister sacrificed her own life to strengthen hers.

That's what they say. Arthur will give Morgana the benefit of the doubt for Morgause's murder — but Nimueh, he's fairly sure, was not complicit in her own killing.

Be that as it may, whatever depraved ritual Morgana performed has worked. And their only hope of victory — the wretched creature they keep bound in a cave; may it rot there — has been laughing at their defeats. It is no friend of Morgana, but it seems to hate all of Uther's blood equally.

“Why do you think it will listen to you?” Arthur asks.

The boy raises his chin. “Because he must.”

Dear God, let it not be insanity.

“And why would you help me?”

The boy's resolute expression turns earnest. “Because we both want the same thing — peace for our people.”

He sounds like he means it.

Arthur slides his sword back in its sheath.

[thefollow-spot]

"Untitled" (Idol)

Merlin & Arthur ● General Audiences ● WC: 200 ● No Warnings // Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the prompt 'Sunlight'.

---

[twistedshipper]

The Witch Hovel written for @merlinmicrofic dedicated to @the-king-and-the-druidess 🌿

prompt: "home" | Morgana & Arthur | Gen | Not Rated | Chose Not to Warn

"The witch hunkers down in her hovel, waits, abides her time. Deep in the woods, her abode lies amongst a grove of oak, ash, and thorn. Without the trees have shed their leaves, and within her home a fire roars, crackling in the hearth. In the night, its light permits her to tinker with her hands, her many crafts and enchantments. A poppet of wax, a Rowan twig charm tied with blood-red thread. Samhain night has passed, and in the gloaming of darker months ahead, she experiments the many ways to enact her revenge upon the brother she wants dead."

[pagsys-writings]

28. Letters

For years after Arthur passed, Merlin wrote letters to him. He filled their contents with all the words he should have said when he had the chance. His first one was filled with apologies. His second held all the hurt Merlin felt at the loss of Arthur and his other friends. Regret dripped from the words of his third letter for all he didn’t do for Camelot, for Arthur, and even Morgana. But as the letters continued, they changed. As Merlin came to terms with all his emotions, the one that remained constant was love. Soon he found himself surrounded by piles of love letters as he waited for Arthur’s return, and he wondered if Arthur would ever get to read them. 

[loverofwhump216]

Check out the this Merlin What If Series

It's called Magic Reigns Free. It starts with Uther hurting Merlin and revealing to Arthur that he has magic. The series follows the two as they navigate they world of Magic together. It basically rewrites most of Season 5 and I'm here for it.

[vicstar95]

For @merlinmicrofic July prompt: Home | Arthur & Merlin | Comfort | Mention of abuse | 500 Words

It isn’t until the door swings shut behind them and there is the reassuring noise of the key turning in the lock, that Arthur’s shoulders droop. Another unsuccessful witch hunt culminating in a public tongue lashing from the King.

In some ways, he’s not sure which is worse, these public humiliations, or the more private ones he used to endure that left his back raw and occasionally bloody. Uther can’t afford to have him out of action with disciplinary injuries anymore, but in some ways, they were preferable and meant he got a few days away from the eyes of the court in the privacy of his chambers.

Merlin gives him his space as he crosses the room to light the fire; and while it doesn’t take as long as it used to now Merlin can use his magic, he continues to bustle about, starting to pull things out of their packs even as the large tub hovers silently across the room towards the hearth.

By rights, Merlin’s first duty should be ridding Arthur of his cloak and armour, heavy (and somewhat unpleasant) after several nights out in the woods, but he knows that the prince needs a few minutes to regain his balance after meekly submitting to Uther’s anger to maintain the charade that is likely keeping them both alive.

In all honesty, Merlin needs a moment too. The anger buzzing under his skin after listening to Uther’s tirades about Arthur’s seeming incompetence is still tangible, both at how father treats son, but also that Arthur is now, repeatedly, putting himself in the firing line to protect him. After almost a year of protecting Arthur, the tables have now turned, and Merlin still isn’t sure how to take that.

Reaching the bottom of the packs, Merlin glances up to Arthur to find himself being watched, the prince’s face softened from the hard lines it had set into as soon as they’d dismounted in the courtyard an hour earlier.

“What?” Merlin asked, “if I have mud on my face, it’s because you pushed me in that ditch yesterday.”

“Oh, shut up Merlin, just get me out of this will you,” Arthur exclaimed, plucking at the straps of his pauldron. Merlin rose, and making his way across to the prince began to deftly unbuckle the armour and remove it.

As he worked, the tub by the hearth began to fill with steaming water and the scent of lavender began to waft across the room. Arthur raised a pointed eyebrow at his manservant, but said nothing, his shoulders collapsing by increments as his gorget, chainmail and gambeson were removed swiftly.

Once down to his underclothes, Merlin bustled off, providing the illusion of privacy as Arthur stripped his final layers and sank gratefully into the tub, heated to perfection with magic. The thought wasn’t alarming anymore. In fact, Arthur couldn’t remember ever feeling as safe and comfortable in a space as he did now in his chambers, with Merlin. It felt like home.

[sinivalkoista]

Dead Man Drowning

Fill for @merlinmicrofic, no pairings, general, prompt: underwater

[xviruserrorx]

Title: "Back To Our Mistakes"

Another fic! For the prompt "Then Go" for @merlinmicrofic. This also serves as a direct follow up to "Turn Back Time". I'm a bit unsure about this one, I was starting to do good with these short little things and then this one just seems so rushed and way too fast paced for me. I think I tried to cram too much of a story into the little 500 words...

Merlin Micro Fic - Tumblr | Ao3 - [Prev <- • -> Next]

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Prompt(s): "Then Go"

Relationship(s): Merlin & Leon

Character(s): Merlin, Sir Leon

Important Tag(s): Immortal Leon, Time Traveler Merlin, Post Canon,

Rating: Gen

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply,

Word Count: 500

“I know that you went back and that you thought you could do it all over again, but you couldn't. None of it really mattered, because it all was about saving one person.” He stopped. “Except he dies too." Or After the events of Turn Back Time Merlin returns and tries to reconciles the damage he's done all while Leon has already found himself less than angry with the version of Merlin he last saw decades before.

"Immortal & Time Traveler AU" - Tumblr | Ao3

->Previous: "Turn Back Time " - Tumblr | Ao3

Continue reading below or over on Ao3

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Merlin wanted to laugh at the rain as it fell; Irony if so—and if not—perhaps just his luck. The coat was heavy on his shoulders as he stood on the familiar cobblestone steps. An unfamiliar crack in the second step that he couldn't remember if it was there the last time or not.

Though, all he could remember was the ‘Then Go' from Leon and nothing else.

He shook his head, he'd been waiting outside his door too long. He knocked first, grabbed the key from his pocket and opened the door.

He discarded his jacket once inside and relished in the familiar comfort. It was warm, the hum of the Television played on low volume, while the smell of coffee was inescapable.

“Did you just knock?

Merlin followed the voice through to the kitchen. Leon was serving coffee in two mugs as Merlin leaned his weight against the doorway.

Leon looked at him, furrowed his eyebrows. “Merlin?”

He could lie, but it'd haunt him for the rest of his life. He tried to smile but failed. “I just came from the seventh century.”

Leon stopped, then continued preparing the coffees.

“Leon—”

“Don't.” He gestured to the kitchen island and Merlin took a seat.

Leon took a breath, then started. “It's been twenty-two years. I've met you more than a dozen times since and every version of you hadn't yet gotten to that point.”

Merlin kept his mouth shut.

“I know that you went back and that you thought you could do it all over again, but you couldn't. None of it really mattered, because it all was about saving one person.” He stopped. “Except he dies too.

Merlin pressed his eyes and swallowed.

“Once wasn't enough for you,” Leon continued. Twice seemed to barely feed that insanity. So you did it again, and again, and another time after that. And—to quote your words. No matter what you do, he always dies in your arms.”

“Stop—” His voice cracked.

“You give up and go back to past me. Then for three years you were…” He shook his head. “Empty… broken. Then one day you disappear. Jump a couple centuries and you're at my doorstep again.”

He dumped sugar in one mug, tapping the spoon on the side before laying it down. “How long has it been for you? Fifty? Sixty years?”

Merlin bit his lip as it trembled. “I lost count…” he said weakly, hiding behind a just as weak smile.

Leon rounded the counter and put the cup in front of Merlin. He wrapped an arm around Merlin as his tears began to fall.

Merlin leaned in. “I'm sorry. I'm—”

“I couldn't have stopped you, not really.” He couldn't play Fate any more than Merlin could.

“I can't,” Merlin continued.

“Then stay,” he said. “You’ve never stayed in one place very long,” he continued. “Call it a sabbatical.

He let out a weak laugh. “A sabbatical?”

He smiled, hummed, and gave Merlin's arm a squeeze. “The world can wait.”

[enchanted-blade]

Fill for @merlinmicrofic Feb prompt: "Then Go" Gen, Balinor & Gaius & Kilgharrah, no warnings, 474 words ao3

He shivers. His ceremonial clothes offer no relief from the bitter wind; his body has forgotten all warmth. Already a night and a day have passed since his escape.

It seems a mirage of the dusk when the king’s physician at last comes over the bank, alone.

He unfolds from his gloomy hollow like a man twice his age. ‘What news, Gaius?’

‘As we feared. The king sees only one path to peace. You must flee, my lord. He is gathering men as we speak.’

Expecting betrayal does not ease the pain of it. Call it naivety or desperation; for his people, at least he tried.

‘And Kilgharrah?’ His voice breaks on the name. ‘Tell me – was it quick?’

Gaius pauses. ‘The dragon has not been slain.’

‘What?’

‘Uther has him in chains – shackles thicker than a man’s waist, and guarded by a dozen men and more.’

For a moment, he cannot breathe for rage and sorrow. That proud, terrible creature, brought so low. It is an unthinkable indignity. But hope rises in him, a sharp flame. ‘Then I cannot leave him. As long as he lives, I must do all I can to free him.’

‘Balinor, no – that is madness!’

‘It does not matter! What lord would I be to abandon him, and I the one who led him here?’

‘But that is the king’s intention,’ Gaius insists, eyes wide and white in the dark. ‘He means to lure you back, using the beast as bait.’

‘Then at last he has one thing right about dragonlords.’

Gaius pushes the satchel he carries into Balinor’s arms. ‘Set aside your pride, I beg you, and flee while you can. The king will not kill Kilgharrah. He is too great a prize, and he has already been subdued. But with you, Uther will not hesitate. You remain a threat so long as you live.’

Does he imagine that the icy wind carries the baying of dogs? Perhaps. He tucks the satchel tight to his chest.

There is a village, Gaius is saying, where his niece lives, where Uther will not look. ‘Stay there and bide your time, lord, and return only when his blood has cooled, if you must. But do not die today. For you will die, if you stay. And your people with you.’

The physician wields it like a scalpel, this grief that Balinor cannot yet comprehend. It is a fatal incision.

‘Kilgharrah is all I have left,’ he says, numb, his heart torn out.

‘Then go swiftly, far from here, so he might not be the last,’ Gaius says.

Balinor closes his eyes and begs silent forgiveness of the dragon. They should have rained dragonfire upon the citadel while they still had the chance.

But that time is over. The dragons fly no longer, and their lords desert them in the night.

[merlinmicrofic]

And here are the prompts for the September Round!

1. Nightfall | 2. "I promised." | 3. Starting Over

For info on how this works, please check this post.

Please remember - when posting to tumblr, please name ship/characters/gen relationship, the prompt(s) you're filling, and, if needed, rating + warnings (so, for example: "Fill for @merlinmicrofic prompt 'Nightfall', Gwaine/Arthur, Teen, MCD") at the top of your post!

Prompts can be interpreted loosely, although if you pick the dialogue prompt, the line should make an appearance!

Remember, your fic has to be 500 words or shorter! For an additional challenge, make it an exact drabble (100 words to the point!) When you post to tumblr, we'll check wordcounts with wordcount.com

Places/ways you can post: only to tumblr, to our AO3 collection, or to both. Whichever way you choose, do make sure to make a tumblr post of some kind and tag this blog directly, so that we can reblog it, and log it for the masterlist!

Reminder that prompts can be submitted through the ask box (see here for more info), and one of the monthly prompts will be picked from those by random choice!

If you have any more questions that aren't answered by the posts linked in our pinned post, please don't hesitate to reach out.

Most importantly, have fun! <3

[adhd-merlin]

vacancies

For @merlinmicrofic. Prompt: Throne. Gwen & Merlin, Post-Camlann, Gen. Words: 497

Gwen remembers Arthur’s delighted confession after her coronation so clearly.

“When you walked up those steps and sat next to me, I thought: at last she is where she belongs.”

“On the throne?” she had asked, laughing, amused at the thought. Only the day before she was a servant. Even with the crown sitting heavy on her head it all felt like a dream.

Arthur had looked into her eyes, solemn. “That, too. But I meant at my side.”

When Gwen looks at her side now there’s an empty throne. Every now and then it feels like a stab to the heart.

She could have it removed, but she chose not to. She wants to remember, even if it pains her.

She suspects Gwaine’s seat at the Round Table remains unoccupied for the same reason.

Sometimes she catches Merlin looking at it – vacant eyes on a vacant seat.

He sits at Gwen’s side, and she misses him. Arthur died after Camlann, but the Merlin she knew never returned either.

“Merlin?” she calls him, genty. He’s gathering some scrolls from the table, absent-mindedly. The knights have left, they’re the only people in the council chamber now, apart from the guards posted at the doors.

The sound of his name seems to bring him back to reality. Where were you? she’d like to ask him. Where do you go when you’re not here?

Instead, she says: “Will you come to my chambers later? I’ve amended my speech for tomorrow and I would like you to review it. If you have the time.”

Merlin gives her an empty smile. “Of course.”

Of course. He always has the time for Gwen, and he’s always perfectly polite. It's like he’s trying to atone for the unforgivable sin of not saving Arthur’s life. She wonders how long it will take him to feel like he has done sufficient penance. Perhaps one day he’ll realise it will never happen, and he will feel free to go.

He’s not staying. She knows it, even if Merlin doesn't. It may be a matter of weeks, or months, or even a few years, but one day the tether binding Merlin to Camelot will snap. It grows more frail by the day.

“Thank you,” she says.

Merlin dips his head and leaves, the bundle of scrolls tucked under his arm.

She looks at Arthur’s throne. Tomorrow she will address the people of Camelot and declare magic no longer unlawful.

“I wish you were here to see it,” she murmurs.

One day she’ll start living for the present and for what is yet to come, and not for the memory of the man she loved. But today she allows herself to dwell on the past, and to take some comfort in it.

As she brushes a tear away, the clouds in the grey sky part, and golden sunlight floods the chamber. It touches the red velvet of the thrones like a caress.

It feels like an answer.

Gwen smiles.

[thefollow-spot]

Sonnet: I’m Almost Me Again, She’s Almost You

Gwen & Merlin ● General Audiences ● WC: 107 ● Warning: MCD // Written for @merlinmicrofic 2024, for the prompt 'Almost'.

---

[twistedshipper]

prompt: “you wouldn't” | Gwen/Morgana | Not Rated | No Warnings Apply

{Forget-Me-Not} for @merlinmicrofic inspired by this post.

When Arthur and his knights rescued the King’s ward from the mists and brought her home in the aftermath of a deadly skirmish, the kingdom was overjoyed, the King himself with tears of sweet relief in his eyes.

No one paid much mind towards the King’s ward’s maid, whom like the King and his son—perhaps, more so—had spent many a night lighting candlelight vigils in her name, praying for her safe return, envisioning behind her wide-innocent eyes the memory of her first love, and manifesting it, as if by the arcane art of magic, the moment they would be reunited again, the way she would welcome her into her arms and say, “Welcome home, Morgana. You are safe.”

Imagine her chagrin then when the moment came and passed unremarked upon—the flowers she had picked for her left wilting in their vase, and the glassy look in the King’s ward’s eye in response to Gwen’s bright smile, and the embrace they’d shared, though cordial, that had left Gwen feeling all kinds of wrong, as if this Morgana was no longer the endearing woman she had loved.

Though, as the days came and passed, and Morgana remained cool and aloof in the best of moments, downright hostile in the worst, Gwen chalked it up to the trauma she experienced since her kidnapping and whatever had befallen her in that missing year they’d been apart.

But when pressed, Morgana didn’t appear so much damaged as distant, as if contemplating some grand design that involved only her, not them both as it used to be, in the days they grew up together, gossiping about this or that in that safe space of her chambers.

Or so it seemed to Gwen in the moments when she caught her lady unawares, in that almost familiar scene where she would be seated at her vanity, a brush running through her long, sable hair, as she mused to herself, lost in thought, until Gwen made the slightest movement and then the mirage would be broken, and Morgana would bark at her to leave her be, and so, Gwen would retreat, out of sight, out of mind, nothing more than a shadow in the hall, somber and desolate, her heart panging for the friend she remembered from their happy youth.

Until she spied a transgression of a different sort, one in which, she couldn’t so easily explain away, and that when she slipped out of view, beheld in all her utmost horror how Morgana caused a box to burn before her gold eyes without so much as striking a flame—

It is magic, Gwen understood then, that black art which has taken root in your heart over me.

But you wouldn’t, Gwen cried to herself once Morgana left the room, soft, silent tears that spilled down her cheeks, you couldn’t.

And then, she thought back over everything, perused her memories, noticed how at each point and turn Morgana chose the opposition.

The thing was—

She would.

[loverofwhump216]

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Gaius, Gwaine, Morgana, Mithian

Summary: Merlin ends up revealing his magic in an effort to stop Morgana from killing him in Another's Sorrow. Arthur ends up seeing this and has to figure out what this means for the future of Camelot and his friendship. Merlin!Whump. Mentions of Merthian

[pagsys-writings]

98. Please

The list of names and numbers seems to swim on the page in front of her, making Morgana’s head spin. “Shit,” she whispers to herself when she glances at the clock. She should have left over an hour ago to meet Gwen for dinner. Rubbing her eyes, she sighs as she drops her pen and paper to the desk. “Shit,” she repeats. This is the third time this week that she messed up their plans. 

“Knock, knock!” A familiar voice sings as her office door opens with a bump of the hip. Gwen saunters in, holding two bags of takeout in her hands. 

“Gwen?” Morgana asks in disbelief. A smile forms on her lips. “What are you doing here?”

Gwen looks a little sheepish. “Please don’t be upset, but I called your office earlier to check on you, and it sounded like they had you buried in work, so…” She lifts the two bags. “I thought I’d bring dinner to you.”

Morgana’s heart swells. “You’re not mad at me?”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Gwen sets down the bags on Morgana’s desk. “Morgana, I knew what I was getting myself into from the get go. I’ll never be mad at you for something like this. Your father, however…”

Morgana laughs until the smell of Thai food reaches her and she may honestly cry. “Is that…?”

“You’re favorite?” Gwen winks, lifting a container.

“God, I love you.”

Gwen laughs when Morgana’s stomach growls. “I know.”