#merlin was raised by all the women in his village

[lookatmycat9445]

This could just be me wanting a character I like to have some of the skills I do,

But I headcanon merlin to be really good at a lot of different kinds of needle work, such as crocheting, knitting, embroidery, cross stitch, sewing, and making lace.

I feel like he would learn from his mom and all the other older ladies in his home village.

Just sitting on his mom's lap when he was a child and learning how to reuse old pieces of cloth to make something new.

I think that after he moves to Camelot and becomes Arthur's servant; that he doesn't have enough time to do any little projects, just enough time to stitch up a tear in his clothes.

[magicalsniper]

A Vampire Resides in Camelot

2,868 words | Teen | Part 1 of 12 Author's AO3: MagicalSniper Story Link: A Vampire Resides in Camelot

Summary: In the kingdom where the Pendragons reign supreme as ruthless vampire hunters, Arthur Pendragon stands as the most feared and skilled of them all. His loyal servant, Merlin, appears to be a clumsy, scrawny, and goofy young man, but secretly, he is a pureblood vampire—the rarest and most powerful kind. As Arthur travels the land, slaying vampires and declaring them dangerous monsters, Merlin remains by his side, hiding his true nature. Initially, Merlin's need for blood is minimal, allowing him to pass as a human with ease by claiming the vials of blood from Gaius are medicinal. However, as Merlin's strength grows, so does his thirst, and he becomes increasingly desperate to avoid drinking human blood, fearing he will become the very monster Arthur hunts. When the charade unravels, and Arthur discovers Merlin's true identity, their world is thrown into chaos. Faced with losing his friend, Arthur makes the ultimate sacrifice: offering his own blood to keep Merlin alive.

The One Where Darkness Descends

Steel clashed against claw and fang in the stillness of twilight, the battle ringing through the air as Arthur and Merlin dove into the fray. The vampire, a creature of the night born from shadow and sin, lashed out with a ferocity unmatched by mortal kin.  Its eyes, ablaze with malevolent fire, sought to extinguish the life before it—but it found formidable adversaries in the knight and his enigmatic companion.

“Stay close,” Arthur commanded, his voice calm. His sword arced through the air with practised ease. His armour gleamed dully under the waning light, each dent and scratch a testament to his countless battles and unwavering resolve.

"Wouldn't dream of leaving your side, sire," Merlin quipped, an edge of distraction as he parried a strike aimed for Arthur's back. His clumsiness was feigned; his movements were precise, a dance of deceptive ease that belied the supernatural strength he so carefully concealed.

Beyond the immediate danger, the village had erupted into pandemonium. Homes once filled with the warmth of hearth fires stood abandoned, many of their occupants driven into the forest by fear. Women clasped their babes to bosoms, seeking refuge beneath the ancient oaks, while men armed with nothing but pitchforks and courage attempted to barricade the paths against the darkness that descended upon them.

“Into the chapel!” cried one villager, his voice cracking under the strain of terror. “We’ll be safe there!”

“No, you won’t,” Merlin muttered, blocking the vampire from moving toward the group of escaping villagers. While churches and other holy places weren’t the most comfortable places for vampires, they could enter them if they had enough encouragement. And, based on the amount of collected dread that soaked the air, this vampire would have more than enough reason to do so.

The vampire, clearly sensing what Merlin had, fed upon the collective dread. Merlin could feel the swell of power from it as it turned its gaze towards the fleeing masses. It made a move towards them, but Arthur, ever the shield of his people, positioned himself between them, Excalibur raised high.

"By Excalibur's might, you shall not harm them," he vowed, the determination in his eyes unyielding as he readied himself for the next assault.

Merlin went to move to Arthur’s side when he felt the pull of his darker urges, the scent of fear and blood mingling in a potent elixir that threatened his self-control. It hit him harder than usual, causing him to feel dizzy, but he pushed it aside, focusing instead on aiding Arthur.

With a swift motion, Arthur lunged forward, his blade slicing through the air as he executed a series of calculated strikes. The vampire, its form a blur of shadow and malice, parried with unnatural speed, but Excalibur—forged by Gwen’s father and reinforced by the fire of a dragon (not that Merlin allowed Arthur to know that piece of information)—was not so easily bested. Each blow from Arthur forced the creature back, his bravery a beacon amidst the encroaching darkness.

Merlin, whose role in this grim ballet was more subtle, wove his own form of combat into the fray. With gestures hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, he whispered incantations that sent gusts of wind to bullet the vampire, disorienting it just enough for Arthur to press the advantage. Sensing Merlin's interference, the vampire turned its baleful gaze upon him, its eyes attempting to ensnare Merlin in a thrall.

"Good try," Merlin scoffed, a hint of his own supernatural strength emerging as he countered the mental invasion with a forceful push of his will. The vampire reeled, its mind assaulted by the reflection of its power and Merlin’s own, giving Arthur the opening he needed to strike another blow.

"This one must be a turned vampire rather than a pureblood," Merlin said under his breath, attempting to divert his thoughts from the irresistible scent of fear.

"Turned? Pureblood?" Arthur grunted between swings, somehow hearing him despite all of the commotion. "You act like there is a difference."

"Trust me, there's a difference," Merlin replied dryly. He sidestepped effortlessly, his movements much more fluid and precise than usual as the vampire lunged at Merlin. He countered with a spell, his gestures quicker and more controlled than ever before. The vampire staggered, momentarily blinded by the flash of lightning Merlin created.

As Merlin moved to cast another spell, he felt a surge of strength in his limbs. It was as if the very magic within him had become more potent, more responsive. He leapt onto a nearby rock, the height giving him a better vantage point to direct his spells. The jump felt effortless, his feet landing with the precision of a seasoned acrobat.

He stared at his hands in awe as he felt the magic coursing through his veins, amplifying his physical abilities in ways he had never experienced before. It was both exhilarating and unnerving, a reminder of the untapped potential within him.

A piercing scream drew Merlin's attention to a nearby thatched cottage. The door had been splintered open, and Merlin could see a family huddled in terror within the dimly lit interior. Brandishing a pitchfork with trembling hands, a burly man stood protectively before his wife and two children. His desperate defiance was met with the vampire's cruel snarl; its fangs bared as it prepared to strike.

"Stay behind me!" the father shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his fear. The mother clutched her children close, whispering frantic prayers to any god that would listen. The older child, a boy not yet in his teens, held a kitchen knife with a bravery that mirrored Arthur's own, though his eyes betrayed his youth and terror.

The youngest—a girl with braids undone in the chaos—peered out from behind her mother's skirts, her wide eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight and the monstrous silhouette that loomed over them. In a swift, merciless motion, the vampire swatted aside the pitchfork and raked its claws across the room, nicking the little girl’s arm.

Merlin's breath hitched at the scent of blood—a single droplet welling up like a dark ruby against her fair skin. The air grew thick with the smell of iron and fear, and an alien hunger clawed at Merlin's insides. His vision seemed to sharpen, every fibre in his being screaming for him to claim the crimson offering before him.

The vampire's malevolent grin is a stark contrast to the terror-stricken faces of the villagers. Merlin, his hands trembling, fought to keep his focus. His eyes—the colour of the summer sky—flickered momentarily to a deep, unnatural red. Within him, the primal thirst stirred, eager to break free from the chains of his will.

Arthur, too preoccupied with getting the vampire away from the family, did not notice the change. He moved toward the vampire with the grace and precision of a seasoned warrior, each strike aimed with lethal intent. 

"Merlin, what are you waiting for?" Arthur bellowed as he ducked a vicious swipe that would have decapitated a lesser man. "We need to end this!"

Merlin's internal battle was reaching its crescendo. The sight of blood had awakened the dormant beast within, gnawing at the edges of his humanity. He could almost taste the sweet tang of life on his tongue, feel the rush of power that would come with surrender. It would be so easy to give in, to let his true nature take over...

But no. Merlin shook his head violently. He was Merlin, known as Emrys to the druids and others as Arthur’s clumsy manservant. Though the darkness beckoned, he served a higher cause. He pushed back against the insidious whispers with every ounce of resolve, forcing the red from his gaze. He was here to fight alongside Arthur, not to succumb to the very evil they sought to destroy.

Taking a deep breath, Merlin stepped forward, his movements suddenly fluid and assured. He invoked a spell, a subtle magic that sent a gust of wind howling through the open door, buffeting the vampire's face with debris.

"Is that all you can muster, Merlin?" Arthur chided, unaware of the supernatural effort it took for his friend to merely stand his ground.

“Would a tsunami be up to your standard, sire?” 

“Shut up!”

Merlin seized the opportunity with the vampire momentarily disoriented, drawing upon reserves of strength he seldom dared tap. He moved with speed that blurred the line between human and something more, positioning himself between the vampire and the family, ready to shield them with his life if necessary.

"Take the children and run!" Merlin commanded, and the family hesitated momentarily before scrambling towards the back of the cottage, the mother ushering her little ones to safety.

As the vampire recovered and lunged for Merlin with renewed fury, Arthur joined the fray again, his sword a silver flash in the dim light. The clash of steel rang out like a death knell through the night, Arthur's blade meeting the vampire's with a force that sent sparks flying. The creature was relentless. Its fangs bared in a grotesque snarl as it sought to tear through the sinews of life itself. Yet there stood Arthur, the epitome of human defiance, his muscles coiling and uncoiling with each precise strike. Sweat-soaked hair clung to his forehead, and his eyes never wavered from the malevolent adversary before him.

Beside him, Merlin fought with an uncanny grace that contrasted with his usual awkwardness. Each movement was laced with otherworldly agility, a testament to the secret he harboured within—a secret that gave him the strength of the damned to protect the living.

Merlin’s gaze flicked towards the family huddled behind him, their faces etched with terror. Arthur followed his gaze, "Make sure to stay back!" he commanded the family, his tone allowing no argument. "This fiend won't touch you as long as I draw breath!"

The vampire, cunning and cold, sought to exploit any opening, its claws raking the air where Arthur had been but a moment before. But he was relentless, his every move a paragon of chivalric combat honed through years of training under the vigilant eye of Uther Pendragon.

"Merlin, now!" Arthur shouted, and with a nod, Merlin unleashed a torrent of magic, his incantations weaving a disorienting haze around the vampire. For a heartbeat, the creature faltered, its senses assaulted by the enchantment.

Together, they pressed the advantage, Arthur's blade seeking flesh while Merlin's spells ensnared the vampire's will. It was a dance as old as time, the struggle between light and shadow, life and undeath.

"You won't find easy prey here, creature of the night," Arthur growled, raising his shield to deflect a wicked swipe. "For every drop of innocent blood you lust for, tenfold of your own will spill on this hallowed ground."

The vampire hissed, a sound of pure malice, but Arthur was undeterred. With a warrior's cry, he drove the monster back, step by step, until the family's safety was all but assured beneath the mantle of his protection.

As the vampire reeled, caught off balance by the combined might of Arthur and Merlin, the villagers dared to hope, their prayers rising through the turmoil of battle. And for a fleeting moment, amid the direst of circumstances, Arthur's laughter mingled with Merlin's, a shared triumph over the encroaching darkness.

As the battle raged on, so did the new feeling of power in Merlin’s body. His limbs moved with an inhuman grace he could no longer hide, each step carrying him further than any mortal stride could. If Arthur had been paying attention, he would surely have been caught. However, with each spell he cast, his mind sharpened, and the world seemed to slow around him. The vampire, swift and lethal, now appeared languid, its movements telegraphed and sluggish to Merlin's heightened senses, and it was nothing short of addicting.

"Are you even trying?" Merlin jested breathlessly, ducking beneath a clawed hand that cut through the air. He spun, his cloak billowing behind him, and struck out with a force that belied his slender frame. The vampire stumbled backwards, an expression of bewilderment etching its monstrous visage.

"Showoff," Arthur chided with a half-smile, though his eyes betrayed his astonishment at Merlin's newfound prowess. They fought in tandem, Arthur's sword meeting flesh while Merlin's hands weaved the unseen threads of magic into a binding net.

The creature roared in fury, yet the sound echoed hollowly as the tide turned against it. Merlin's confidence swelled with every second that passed, and a thrill ran through him. Each spell he cast, each evasive manoeuvre—it was as if he were born for it.

"Merlin, watch yourself!" Arthur's voice cut through the fog in his mind. Merlin nodded, his focus unwavering as they brought the vampire to its knees. The final blow was Arthur's—a swift stroke of his blade that sent the beast into the eternal night.

As silence descended upon the village like a heavy cloak, Merlin and Arthur stood amid the wreckage wrought by the vampire's wrath. Houses lay torn asunder, their once-welcoming frames now twisted and charred by the fires of the rampage. With his eyesight, he could see villagers peeking from their hiding places through the trees, faces drawn with the ghosts of terror still haunting their eyes.

“I thought he would never go down,” Arthur muttered, wiping the back of his hand across his brow. His armour bore the marks of the skirmish, dented and smeared with ash and ichor. Merlin would have a good time cleaning that if forced to do so without magic.

"Indeed," Merlin agreed, a half-smirk playing on his lips despite the gravity of the scene. "Though we fared better than him in the end." He glanced down at his attire, noting a tear in his tunic with mild annoyance.

“Merlin?” 

“Hm?

“That speed of yours is new.” Arthur seemed to hesitate before clearing his throat. “You wouldn’t be hiding something from me, would you?”

“Have you ever thought that perhaps I am merely eating my vegetables?” Merlin asked. “Perhaps if you did so more, I wouldn’t be forced to add holes to your belt.” He ducked out of the way of Arthur’s swinging arm, grinning widely, glad that his joke deflected further inquiry. Internally, he couldn’t help but marvel at his new capabilities, the taste of exhilaration still fresh upon his tongue.

One of the houses, destroyed in their battle, went up in flames, and Merlin grimaced. “At least I won’t have to make a fire now.”

There was movement to his left, and Merlin caught the eyes of the family he and Arthur fought to protect. Their eyes were wide and reflected the flickering light, but the raw fear that had clutched at their hearts began to ebb away as the warmth seeped into their bones.

“You have our eternal thanks," the father said, his voice rough with emotion as he clasped Arthur's gauntleted hand. 

“Not mine!” A man snarled as he stalked towards them from where he had been hiding in the church. “You destroyed my house!”

The father ignored the man. "Your courage saved us from certain doom."

“I apologise. I will send a crew to help you rebuild in a sennight.” Arthur said to the man before turning to the father with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “It was our honour. No creature of the night is allowed to harm those under my protection.”

Merlin went to work dragging the vampire corpse across the ground to the fire. The children watched with a mixture of fascination and revulsion as the flames consumed the body, ensuring the creature's end. The fire popped and hissed as if in protest, but slowly, the tension of the villagers melted away, leaving only relief in its wake.

As the vampire's remains turned to ash, the night air carried the distant sounds of commotion—shouts that did not belong to the village. Arthur's head snapped up, his warrior instincts never fully at rest.

"Prince Arthur!" Leon called as he approached from the forest. "We just received notice that other villages have also suffered attacks."

A chill ran down Merlin's spine, which had nothing to do with the evening's coolness. He exchanged a glance with Arthur, who frowned deeply at the news.

"Could it be..." Merlin ventured, his thoughts racing as he pieced together the grim puzzle. "Could there be an army of vampires being amassed?" 

"An army?" Arthur scoffed, though his eyes showed a hint of concern. "Don’t be an idiot, Merlin. We've enough troubles without conjuring phantoms."

"What other explanation do you have for the sudden influx of new vampires?" Merlin pressed, a nagging feeling gnawing at his gut.

"Enough," Arthur ordered, though the edge in his voice suggested he, too, felt the stirrings of unease. “We will investigate tomorrow. For now, we must ensure the safety of these good people."

Merlin fell silent, but as the fire continued to consume the vampire's remains, the question lingered, unanswered and foreboding, hanging in the smoke-filled air like a spectre waiting in the shadows.

Part Two

NOTE:

I found this idea here on Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ceastar432/752357438800396288?source=share

So, the credit goes to @ceastar432 for inspiring this.

[cursedonyx]

Could you write one where the professors have been drinking. There is an attraction between Aesop and Mirabel that has been growing for some time. With the help of alcohol they pick up the courage to act on it. One of them makes the first move and it goes on from there ... It can be quiet explicit 🫣 (it's of course consensual. No one is too drunk to make things they do not want to)

Thank you :)))

Well, this was fun to write! Hope this is what you wanted, enjoy!

Word count – 3.5k

Warnings – Smut (🔞 MDNI), PiV, Oral F!Receiving, M!Receiving, alcohol, consensual mutual longing fulfilled

The Christmas holidays arrived not a moment too soon, and Aesop Sharp sat comfortably in the company of his fellow professors in the Three Broomsticks, sipping slowly from a tankard of butterbeer, listening as Abraham regaled them all with a hilarious tale about a Hippogriff and a Centaur.

Though it was tradition for the professors to get together at the end of each term to drink away their stress, this year’s gathering was somewhat more forced than those previous.

Some student or three, clearly overtaken with festive joy and embodying the spirit of Peeves, had decided to plant several hundred Dungbombs throughout the entire school and set them off simultaneously. Aesop had a very good idea who the culprits were, though without proof, there was little he could do other than glare at the Sallow twins and their Gaunt friend as they left the castle for Feldcroft, the three of them in fits of laughter.

The stench had permeated the castle, causing a mass evacuation. Only Mr Moon remained behind, armed with the Bubble-Head charm and a mop to clean up the mess. The stampede of students had almost caused injury, and it was fortunate that only a handful of students were staying over the Christmas break. The kindly villagers of Hogsmeade had happily agreed to house the professors and students for the night, and the professors were rooming in the Three Broomsticks.

Aesop glanced across the table, his eyes lighting on the lithe Mirabel Garlick, barely twenty and giggling as Abraham finished his tale with gusto, arms flung wide to emphasise the punchline. Aesop chuckled politely, but if he was being honest with himself, his attention had not been on the Charms Professor at all.

Over and over through the night, his gaze had been drawn to the young Herbology Professor. She had rid herself of her usual green robes and wide-brimmed hat, wearing instead a beautiful little number of peach and cream that complimented her skin and hair beautifully. And Merlin… her hair. Down to her hips and a luscious, almost fiery red, she’d taken it out of her traditional plaits and wound it into an elegant braid that wove around her head, thin tendrils escaping as the night wore on to frame her face prettily.

Aesop caught himself staring and busied himself with his tankard as his fellow professors continued laughing at Abraham’s tale. He shouldn’t feel this way. Mirabel had been his student three years ago, for Merlin’s sake! Even then, her graceful movements and measured, gentle speech had caught his attention, and he’d had to take special care to be as gruff and stoic with her as he was with all his students. Perhaps moreso than usual.

But she wasn’t a student any more. She was a woman, a beautiful, elegant woman, passionate about her subject and fearless in the face of deadly plants. He’d known women like her before when he was an Auror, quietly confident and full of vigour, until the demands of the job left them haggard, insane, injured or dead.

No such dangers presented themselves to a Herbology Professor. Aesop raised his tankard to his lips, irritated to find it empty. He waved to Sirona for a refill, his gaze landing on Mirabel again.

Merlin… she was enchanting. But he was twice her age, scarred and limping, grumpy and irritable. Though their brief conversations over breakfast or in the hallways indicated that they were nothing more than friendly colleagues, he couldn’t help but wonder if such a beauty would ever look at him in any other way than simply contemporaries.

He winced, accepting the tankard Sirona handed him. He shouldn’t think like that. She was too young, too pure, too beautiful for the likes of him. But all the same, images slid into his mind. Images of her amongst her plants, images of her carrying a basket of ingredients to his classroom, images of her doing so wearing absolutely nothing at all.

“Well, this has been delightful as always,” Matilda said, jerking him out of his musings. “However, I feel I must retire, I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow.”

“Ah, the famous Weasley family Christmas,” Abraham chortled. “Do give Garreth my fond regards, he’s certainly been inventive with his charms this year.”

“Inventive is definitely a word for it,” Aesop muttered, remembering the six melted cauldrons and eighteen explosions the Gryffindor had caused in this term alone.

Matilda chuckled, raising a hand in farewell as she made for the stairs. Beside him, Chiyo Kogawa stretched and yawned.

“It is getting late,” she said. “I don’t really want to be hungover for my flight tomorrow.” With a wave, she rose and followed Matilda.

One by one, the other professors finished their drinks and made their way up to their rooms, until it was only Aesop and Mirabel left. She nursed her gillywater, nibbling her lip, before casting a shy glance his way.

“I suppose we should get to bed too,” she said.

Aesop nodded, trying hard not to picture her lying naked in the long grass of the fields just outside Hogsmeade, her form highlighted in silver moonlight. “I’ll be here a little longer. Don’t stay on my account.”

A smile touched her lips. “I’d like to,” she said. “I have to say, I don’t really want to go up yet. I’ve been enjoying the conversation.”

Aesop tightened his grip on his tankard. Now he wanted to think of a topic, a conversation starter, something that would keep her here with him. But what could he say? What would she find interesting? He barely knew a thing about the young professor, much less anything that would keep her here, sitting opposite him in the dimly lit tavern. As if she’d be interested in an old cripple like him.

Mirabel drained her gillywater and passed him a shy smile, before rising and heading to the bar. Aesop cursed under his breath. He mustn’t think the way he’d been thinking all evening, she was too young, too sweet, too pure for him to do all the things he wanted to. She wouldn’t even be interested. She would be entranced by some young buck her age, someone fresh and eager and wholly inexperienced.

But then… perhaps he’d imagined it, but the way she’d look at him sometimes, the soft, lingering glances she passed him in the Great Hall, the shy smiles she’d gifted him when she brought him ingredients from her greenhouses… perhaps he was reading too much into it. A man his age shouldn’t indulge in fancies of the mind. He should know better.

Mirabel returned with two generous glasses of firewhiskey, grinning a little. Aesop raised a brow as she set them on the table.

“I guessed you might like this,” she said, sliding one over to him, bending over and gifting him a generous glance of her cleavage. She’d guessed right. He was surprised. He was even more surprised when she didn’t take her seat again, but elected to squidge up beside him on the bench, despite there being several empty chairs around the scrubbed wooden table. Aesop’s breath caught as her slender thigh bumped up against his own, and she turned to him.

“Sorry,” she said. “That’s your bad leg, isn’t it? I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” he managed. “Thank you for the drink.”

“It’s a favourite of mine,” she said, picking up her whiskey. “I try not to indulge too much, but it’s the holidays. Why not?”

“Why not indeed?” he said. Merlin, she was incredibly close, her leg resting against his, her shoulder rubbing against his arm as she set her glass back on the table. He turned his head, inhaling subtly. Her hair smelled of roses and fresh earth. He caught himself and turned away, busying himself with his drink.

Silence bloomed between them, their hands wrapped around their glasses, a slow tension gathering in the air around them.

“Forgive me,” Mirabel said, her voice so low it was almost lost in the chatter of the pub. “I… I feel like if I don’t say something, I’ll burst.”

Aesop swallowed. “What would you like to talk about? My knowledge of plants is limited to their uses in potions, I’m afraid.”

She loosed a soft laugh. “Not that,” she said. “Not work. Although… I suppose it’s related to work, in a way.”

“Trouble with students?” Aesop said. He felt he knew where the conversation was headed, and a part of him pushed out, eager for it to continue, keen for her to say what he needed to hear. The other, larger part tried to be sensible, telling him not to get his hopes up, to stop mooning after her like a lovestruck diricawl, that it could never happen, it shouldn’t happen, it was impossible-

“I like you,” Mirabel said, softly. “As more than a colleague. More than a friend. I have for a while, now.” She glanced at her glass. “It’s just a shame it’s taken until now for me to find the courage to say it.”

Aesop sat stunned. He’d been right. The glances and smiles and lingering looks hadn’t been his imagination. She liked him. Another vision of her naked before him rose in his mind, only this time, she was writhing under his hands, caught and wailing in ecstasy on his cock. He shook himself. Merlin, she was so young and beautiful, he’d almost forgotten what suppleness a youthful body had…

“Aesop?” she shifted, turning to him. He’d been silent for nearly half a minute. “I… I’m sorry, if I’ve made things awkward, I didn’t mean to. I-I’m sure I can get over this, it’s just a crush, I don’t want to be unprofessional, or-”

Aesop set his glass down on the table with a thunk. His hand moved from the glass to her cheek, turning her face to his. Her darkly green eyes went wide as the pads of his fingers slipped behind her ear, the corner of her jaw, sliding into her hair.

His lips parted, a storm of words fighting to be let free, to stumble over his tongue and entrance her, but they jumbled and jammed behind his teeth, rendering him mute. With nothing else to do, he leaned in and kissed her.

It was soft, it was hesitant, and it was perfect. Her lips were pillowy and firm, curving around his, lighting a fire in his belly that he hadn’t felt since he was her age. But he pulled back, acutely aware of the stubble on his jaw, wishing he’d shaved, cringing inside at how scratchy and uncomfortable it must be for her.

Then her hands were winding into his hair and she was pulling him close again, kissing him passionately. He loosed a soft sigh, his hand dropping to her hip, feeling the soft cotton of her dress, the heat of her skin beneath it as her breath rushed over her lips.

“Oh… Aesop…” she whispered. “I hadn’t dared to hope… I-I’ve liked you for so long…”

He couldn’t speak. If a wand had been held to his throat, he couldn’t conjure a single word to say. He let his actions speak for him, drawing her close to kiss her again, elated by the gentle sigh she released, his hands roving over her back, her hips, her legs, legs that parted as she leaned into him, her hand digging into his hair, his neck, her fingers slipping under his collar.

“N-not here,” she whispered. “Aesop… upstairs, quickly.”

With the speed of a much younger man, he was on his feet, drawing her up, a hand at her waist, drinking in the sight of her flushed skin, her wide, bright eyes, her parted, perfect lips.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she replied, gazing at him with such longing that he almost bent her over the table right then and there. “Please, Aesop, I want you.”

He set his jaw and took her hand, leading her to the stairs, bounding up them with an energy he didn’t know he could possess. Even his leg didn’t seem to pain him, the only sensation he was aware of being her hand in his, her delicate fingers wrapped around his.

They tumbled into his tiny room, with space enough only for a narrow bed, a wardrobe and a miniscule beside cabinet.

“Mirabel…” he whispered as she wound her arms around his neck, the word a song, a sonnet, a perfect poem he couldn’t have versed without her there before him. “We shouldn’t.”

He kissed her fiercely, his words contrasting sharply with his exploring hands, feeling each tender curve of her figure, flying over her hips, her back, and Merlin, her breasts. Small and perfect, barely fitting in his hands. He tightened the curve of his palms, and she moaned softly.

Aesop shivered, his lips insistent against hers as she melted under his touch, and he didn’t think he could stop if he tried. All the same, he tried to resist, tried to remind himself of her inexperience, her youth. All was lost as he was captivated by her beauty, her grace, her elegance, and her complete and total need for him.

Her hands were in his hair again, kissing him with a near desperation, pressing her body against his.

“I want to,” she almost whined. “Aesop, please, I’ve wanted you for so long.”

With a low growl, he walked her back to the bed, his hands catching her as her knees hit the mattress and she lost her balance with a squeak, clutching his shoulders. He laid her down, climbing atop her, staring down at her stunning form, breathless and needy beneath him. Her hands rose, scrabbling at his shirt collar, his waistcoat, his suit jacket. He shed these last two and tossed them aside, unable to keep his hands off her for more than a moment.

She whimpered softly as he brushed his hands over her breasts again, her hair coming loose from its braid, her nipples stiffening even through the cotton. Giving himself over to temptation, Aesop took hold of the boddice of her dress and tore it apart, revealing the perfect rosebuds to the cold winter air, flushed and red at their tips. He didn’t wait, but bent his head to her breasts, taking each of the soft peaks into his mouth, winding his tongue around them as her back arched, a symphony of eager sounds rising from her throat.

He fought a low groan as she gasped and writhed under him, trying to ignore the insistent hardness growing in his trousers, begging to be attended to as she whined and bucked under him, her hands in his hair again, holding him against her breasts. But that wasn’t all he wanted from her. If this was going to happen, if he was going to cross the boundary between colleagues that should never be crossed, he shouldn’t just dip his feet in the water. He should throw himself body and soul over the threshold, and damn the consequences.

He raised his head, finding her lips again and pressing his chest to hers, kissing her desperately as her legs fell apart, her hips tucking up to him as she fought with his shirt buttons.

“Aesop… Aesop… please, I need you…”

The words were music, a spell, a captivation. He tore his shirt from his frame, and her hands fell to his chest, digging into his flesh as she explored over the dark hair spreading over his muscle, flickering over his nipples and dipping down to his stomach, losing some definition with his age, but tensing all the same.

Merlin, what was he doing? Kissing an eager young woman that wanted him, some scarred and limping ex-Auror, as if she truly wanted what he was giving her, and not acting out of some cruel joke. He gritted his teeth as her hand found its way into his trousers, gracing along his length and sending sharp lines of fire over his back. His hips flexed instinctively, pushing into her hand as his breath rushed over her neck, and he bit at her soft skin, drawing it into his mouth and sucking hard enough to leave a mark. Mirabel gasped, her grip tightening on his cock as he slavered over her neck.

It wasn’t enough. He had to show her he was better than any of those inept louts that might seek her affection. He tugged at the skirt of her dress, drawing it up over her hips, revealing slender, pale legs, perfectly shaped, encased in luscious, white stockings that almost sent him into a stupor.

Growling under his breath, Aesop took hold of her white, cotton underwear and pulled it down, revealing velvety folds almost hidden by soft brown curls, darker than her long plaits, but hiding a fire nonetheless. Mirabel gasped and whimpered, pushing her hips up.

“Aesop, please…” she whined. “Please, touch me, I need it, I need you.”

He was only too happy to oblige her. He’d fantasised about it for most of the last calendar year after all. He brushed his fingers over the silken folds, gently pushing them back to expose her clit, already engorged and begging for attention. No young wizard, wet behind he ears and thinking with his cock could do this for her. He dipped his fingers over the slick at her entrance and drew it over her nub, easing the soft swirls his fingers made against her.

And Merlin, the sounds she made as he pleased her. Mirabel threw her head back to the pillow, her mouth agape as she gasped and moaned, and Aesop allowed himself a small grin. She hadn’t seen anything yet.

He lowered his head between her quivering thighs as he slid two fingers into her dripping entrance, sealing his lips against her clit as he curled his fingers up, pressing against the place he knew would give her the most pleasure.

Mirabel almost screamed, her hips jerking up to meet him as Aesop thrust his fingers inside her, his tongue working over her clit, captured and held prisoner between his lips.

“Aesop… Aesop… Aesop!” she gasped, her voice rising in pitch and urgency as she rutted against his lips and fingers, her delicate hands gripping fistfuls of the bedsheets, and his name on her lips lit the fiercest fire in his chest, his own need for her almost overwhelming until she howled, her whole body tensing under his ministrations, clenching around his fingers.

She fell back, gasping as he rose to her, his stubble slick with her pleasure as she kissed him.

“Let me…” she panted, a hand braced against his chest, turning him, lying him down. “Please, let me.”

A sudden nervousness rose in him as she laid him down, her bright eyes clouded with lingering bliss. Her hands fumbled at his belt, and he was reminded of her youth, her inexperience, her…

Aesop gasped as she drew his cock out and dived down, wrapping her plump lips around the head of him. Merlin, she’d either sucked a thousand cocks or read enough books to give her the same experience, for each movement against him was glory personified, each swipe of her tongue a jolt of electricity, each gentle suck and breath enough to drive every coherent thought from his head. He sank back to the pillow, his eyes rolling back, his hand finding the silken strands of her glorious hair as she drew sounds he never knew he could make from his throat.

He tightened his fingers in her hair, drawing her back up to his face, his cock sliding from her lips with a gentle pop. He kissed her ferociously, winding his arms around her, turning so she was on her back, pushing her beautiful legs apart. He had to fuck her. He had to make her his, now. Nothing could stop him, not fire, not snow, not even Merlin himself.

He tucked an arm under her head, gracing her with eager, passionate kisses as he aligned himself.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

“Merlin, yes,” Mirabel whined. “Aesop, I need you.”

He didn’t dare stop to think. He slammed his hips forward, entering a heaven of fire and sodden satin that sent his mind scattering to a place he had no hope of pulling it back from. Aesop thrust into her, encouraged by her soft yelps and exclamations, taking care to angle up, hitting every core inside her as his own pleasure built, each pump of his cock sending thrills rushing over his stomach and chest, drawing together and condensing in his balls as he slapped them against her perfect arse.

His orgasm was sudden and intense, driving the breath from him as Mirabel wailed and writhed under him, her hips slamming up to meet him as she tightened around his cock, increasing his pleasure as they came together, his face in her hair, her nails digging into his back.

He shuddered and crumpled atop her, trying to control his breathing as Mirabel whimpered and gasped in his ear, her arms locked around him.

“Aesop… oh, Aesop, that was…” she let loose a soft laugh. “Oh, Merlin, that was everything I ever hoped it would be.”

He raised his head, grinning a little as he graced her soft lips with a gentle kiss.

“That was only the beginning,” he murmured. “We have the rest of the year yet, my dear.”

[dragoon-the-greatest]

Just rewatched "Moment of Truth." What an episode. WILL MY BELOVED. I wish he had shown up for more than an episode, he was such a great character and such a great friend for Merlin.

Loved my little Arwen crumbs in this episode. Got to hear Arthur transition from calling her "Gwen" to "Guinevere" and she called him out for the first time. She showed herself capable of standing up to him both about the food and about having the women fight, and Arthur definitely noticed and apologized on both counts. I understand the fandom's obsession with Merthur but Arthur doesn't listen to Merlin the way he listens to Gwen, and Merlin just doesn't call Arthur out the way Gwen does.

Granted, Merlin would probably be a lot better at calling Arthur out in this instance if he didn't spend half the episode figuring out whether or not to use his magic and arguing with Will about it. The tension is SO good here, the contrast of saving people with his magic and telling the truth in the process vs. continuing to hide himself at others' expense but in hopes for a brighter future. Poor boy just wants to help people with his magic and has since episode one. This early in the series, the choice is an obvious one for Merlin, but later obviously he shifts to the other side, which is so so heartbreaking.

It's no wonder though, Arthur tried to be considerate in his own way but was also a JERK in response to finding out "Will's" secret. They stood in front of Will's FUNERAL PYRE and Arthur tells Merlin he shouldn't have kept Will's secret because magic is DANGEROUS. Will saved his life! What would Arthur have done if a. Will really did have magic and b. Merlin had actually told him about it? Was he going to kill Merlin's best friend? Banish him from his own home when he doesn't even live in Camelot??? Why did Merlin owe him this information??? And after this Will is never mentioned again, which is insane. In all of the (rare) instances where Arthur actually questions magic, he just never brings this up again?? A supposed sorcerer gives his life for him and he just. Blanks it out of his memory? Never mind that this was Merlin's childhood friend, just pretend he never existed and his death never happened and don't ever acknowledge Merlin's grief outside of saying "I know he was a close friend." Merlin learned all of the wrong messages from this episode. Don't tell Arthur your secret because he thinks magic is dangerous with no exceptions, and don't tell Arthur your secret because he's a good man and he likes/needs you but can't be trusted with your secret until "the time is right."

Like actually, what was Hunith's deal in this show?? I love her but we know so little about her? This is a woman that actually ran up to a bandit and tried to steal food back with no plan besides "just grab it real quick while announcing your intentions" (love her for that though, also this is definitely Merlin's mother), represented the village to a foreign king when their own refused to help, raised a magical child but taught him to hide his abilities at all cost, even from the people he loves/trusts the most (people who are willing to risk their lives to help him save his home town? You don't think maybe they could know?). Like, yes, it would have been terrifying to raise your not subtle, blatantly magical son in a world where magic is hated, but she finds out he told his best friend about his secret (which the friend hadn't even told anyone), and her response to this is to send her son to the place most well known for burning/beheading sorcerers? And her response when he expresses a desire to not go back is to tell him to go because the prince (who she absolutely does not think should know Merlin's secret, but also doesn't think he would kill him if he found out, like which side are you on?) needs him? Why is Hunith so obsessed with Arthur here? Like yeah, he risked a lot to come save the village and made a huge difference in the outcome of the fight, but to value him over her own son? I just don't understand Hunith's priorities here. Protect Merlin but send him somewhere extremely dangerous? Merlin tells Will he did not actually want to leave initially but that he did because his mother was worried. Merlin is so lonely and isolated and has such messed up ideas about his purpose and his magic and Hunith doesn't do anything to actually help him sort this out, just pushed him to stay isolated while also being helpful to people she doesn't think he should fully trust.

Anyway, fascinating episode, very compelling. I would have LOVED for this to actually be a magic reveal episode and it's a nice little gut punch to know how far that actually is from happening from this episode. Overall, Will, Gwen, and Morgana were MVPs here. Stay tuned for more random thoughts and analyses on episodes that aired over a decade ago ✌️

[pendragon-daily]

Pendragon-Daily: Chapter 1

Arthur Pendragon is in the shadow and ruff texture of my prison’s walls. I close my eyes against the noise. I don’t know if it’s night or day. 

My mother raised me to be chivalrous, a knight. When I was young, she told me stories of Arthur to help me sleep. I don’t imagine her here. I would never want her in a place like this even as a fantasy. (So, I will imagine you are listening.)

She told me how Arthur became a king before she ever told me how he became a man. I’ve been trying to put the stories in order from the beginning of Arthur’s life to his death. With my own death imminent it seems suddenly like important work, to contextualize the reality of a man’s life.

There are people that will tell you Arthur never lived. These are enlightened  people—in their own mind’s at least— that reject all their mother’s stories. They believe love is a lie and the world offers no transformation but violence and degradation. 

I won’t argue that the world knows violence, but it also knows hope and faith and bedtime stories.

This is the story of how Igraine, the Duchess of Tintagil evaded Uther Pendragon:

In the days that Uther Pendragon was king of England, he believed all that he desired was subject to his sovereign reign. A king cannot steal because everything in his land belongs to him.

A war raged between King Uther and the Duke of Tintagil. A powerful leader with a mighty army, The Duke would not give in to Uther’s forces.

Long years of fighting passed before Uther finally summoned the Duke for peace negotiations. When he did, Uther demanded that the Duke bring his wife, Igraine. 

The Duchess was said to be as beautiful as she was wise. Powerful women are often described as beautiful but rarely described as wise. Igraine had an easy perception of other’s motives—what an outside observer might call a natural grace. But it was a learned skill hard-won with mistake after agonizing mistake.

Uther didn’t pay attention to his arbitration council of intelligent lords. He did not pay attention to the Duke who came to the negotiations in good faith. Uther watched only Igraine. His thoughts anything but peaceful. He thought to take her—after all, everything in his kingdom was his.

She saw through Uther. She saw the emptiness of his promises and his crown. Igraine had made promises of her own to the Duke. Ones that she intended to keep.

Igraine shared her suspicions about Uther with her husband. Begging the Duke to flee the King’s castle, she told him of the hungry glances and pressing words. And he believed her.

In the hours following the Duke and Duchess’s quick escape, King Uther was seized by a mad fury. He would not be denied. He would take what was his. 

Uther pursued the Duke back to his own lands. Planning to siege Tintagil, he brought a massive army. Both sides fought hard, spilling blood as easily as clouds spill rain. As the battling carried from days to months, 

Uther fell into his familiar rage. In the cold, in the blood, the King became sick. He claimed his illness was from wanting Igraine. His love was destroying his body. 

In this sorry state, a noble knight came to his King. Sir Ulfius asked Uther what could be done to cure him.

Uther told him, “The only remedy is Igraine. If I can’t have her then all is lost.”

As is often the case of those in service, Sir Ulfius did not question the way he was asked to serve. This was his King. Ulfius would fight for him, die for him. A King was not subject to the criticism of an ordinary man.

Ulfius vowed to find the wizard, Merlin. If anyone could change the King’s fate it would be that man, infamous for his powerful sorcery. 

Ulfius followed whispers and rumors until he came to a village where he was certain Merlin resided.

“Have you seen the wizard Merlin?” He asked men with well-made knives and women draped in fresh bright fabrics.

All creation told him, “No, there’s no such man here.”

He searched on until he came across a beggar. His eyes were bright and sharp against his dirty complexion. Ulfius recognized a quick mind when he saw one. He asked, “Do you know where Merlin lives?”

“Why?” One word and a steady pause. The beggar had the demeanor of a great man.

“I come on behalf of my King. He needs the wizard’s help to claim a woman who’s captured his heart.”

The beggar stood up straighter. The gaps in his ragged cloths seemed to mend themselves into an unbroken weave. “What does Uther Pendragon offer?”

Ulfius held the other man’s gaze, but he could tell from the tone of his voice a transformation had taken place. This was Merlin himself.

“Anything you desire,” Ulfius said.

Merlin scoffed at the great offer. “In exchange for everything the King wants?” Merlin looked in the direction of the battle. Ulfius had an eerie feeling that he could see it with some sense other than simple vision.

“It’s fair,” said Ulfius.

“It’s enough.” Merlin gestured to the horizon. “You go ahead and I will follow close behind. We’ll get your King all that he desires.”

[aloeverawrites]

Merlin spoilers under the cut and tw for mentions of sexism and toxic relationships. Also this got long lol

I like merlin as a queer reading of hiding your magic/hiding your identity but there can be amazing feminist readings from it as well.

Uther and Gaius's dynamic kind of reminds me of that terrible guy who never listens to his wife and then offers a half-hearted apology after everything blows up in his face. Meanwhile Gaius just gives him the eyebrow tm but forgives him as he considers it his duty to stand by him no matter what. (If I have in the past yelled at my screen 'listen to your wife Uther' , well that's my business-)

He would have helped so many magic users by rightly letting Uther die but he never does because that's his friend.

It's the turning your back on oppressed people like you for a relationship and then calling you out on it.

And being known for always speaking your mind but actually always going along with what he wants and not challenging it too much.

And it's telling your ward to do the same thing, to serve no matter what and sacrifice themselves when need be. To see themselves as less important and to base their identity around another person. Continuing the toxic pattern.

It reminds me of how conservative women raise their daughters to believe that their meaning in life is marrying a man and serving him. to frame their identities around relationships that might be abusive.

I'm not saying that Arthur is the irredeemable husband in this scenario, he is better about magic and wouldn't want Merlin to actually see himself as less, showing how 's different from his father. Whereas Uther made decisions about Ygraine without consulting her, Arthur has made sexist statements but when he was challenged by Morgana and Gwen he respected the women's choice to fight for the village. He's been raised to accept these oppressive systems but when he's challenged on it he actually thinks about it. (And there's the symbolism of him improving greatly after conversations with Gwen.)

He's more like the husband who doesn't fully appreciate what his wife does for him or understand it.

And there's also the idea of heteronormativity saying that you have to keep secrets because men and women can't ever really understand each other. Don't tell him about your period, or your worries, don't act like a full human in front of him. Never be seen without your make-up.

That really reminds me of Gaius always imploring Merlin to keep things secret.

So yeah I think if Arthur had gotten to chance to really know about all of these things he would have appreciated them and been able to grow more as a person. The social and emotional segregation of men and women stops everyone from getting to know their friends and themselves better, it's stops growth. It sucks.

And then there's all the other metaphors as well, like the non-magical societies being ruled by Kings whereas the magic users have High Priestesses and Goddesses, and all of Merlins most powerful magic enemies being women.

There's the history of real life witch burnings and misogyny.

There's the nature as feminine and man-made things as masculine which is a common metaphor.

And there's the people having the option to learn magic and some being born into it, that shows how men's behaviour can get them labelled as "not real mean" and punished with misogyny if they interact too closely with "feminine" things. eg. doing drag. Whereas for women their gender identity is a part of them and not something you can opt out of. With this reading Gaius kind of reminds me of a trans man, in that he's doesn't use magic but his past of being close with it still gets him the side-eye, and cis men sometimes not seeing us as not real men because of our pasts.

There's so much to unpack and I should probably organise this rant at some point lol.

[toobwaysider]

THE OLD HYOOND LEARNS A NEW TRICK

Waysiders take it for granted that against the far back wall in the taproom of The Wayside, there stands a smoothed and well-worn meteor which remains exactly where it landed around 10,000 years ago.  (O’Bservation – “Waysiders” is the term used by Timjimmy Auxberon, co-owner of The Wayside, when referring to the regulars at the tavern.)

It doesn’t faze them in the least that the meteor has a name – “Hyoond”, a proper name for a rock, I’d say – which was announced by The Wayside itself in the only time the bar actually spoke in front of witnesses.

Of all those first humans in Connecticut, the Early Algonkians who remained settled in the vicinity of that meteor became known as the Wampaug tribe.  And like most of those Wonnix who were secretly living beneath the tribe, the Wampaug were also transported to the Flatlands in the Great Vanishment of 1678.  All memory of the original version of the Connecticut Notch, and of the peoples who lived on – and below – those many hills, were wiped from the minds of Mankind.  (Well, except for the Notchfolk of Canterville, the southern portion of the Scottish settlement there.)

When two drunkards were hired by the Massachusetts colony to do a survey of the border with their neighbor, in order to steal as much Connecticut territory as they could (O’Bservation – I will never be convinced otherwise), they deliberately went out of their way to draw the new boundary right through the meteor.  While there are no documents to validate this reasoning, the Canterville settlers believe it was done in order to destroy the meteor, for there were those who feared that the stone from the skies might hold great powers over Man.  (These were the same type of fearful folk who had no problem executing powerless women as witches.)

In order to thwart that supposed plan, Jabez Hopsmith (of the family who brewed the finest beer in the region) decided to build a tavern right on the borderline, and restrict its trade to Canterville custom only.  Incorporated in that plan was his intention to enclose the meteor into the structure, making the space stone part of the tavern’s overall design.

And then the most traumatic event in the history of the Notch occurred in 1678, when a semi-god (as Timjimmy calls them) with his own pocket dimension as his playground, stole away the entire 1600 acres of the Connecticut Notch, mind-swiping all memory of its existence from the whole world… except for those people who had been the southern half of that community, but now left behind to deal with the aftermath.  Only the Ainscott House on the border, with the meteor “fused” into the structure, was able to withstand the “Whiskaway”.

Until the late 1700s, the tavern was known as Ainscott House, until the grandchildren of Jabez sold it in 1775.

Although he was a stranger to those parts and raised some suspicions, the money he offered for Ainscott House was too good to decline.  As it has been for the centuries since, the Ainscotts never discovered that the new proprietor was actually a Nephilim, a son of a Fallen Angel.  His name was Aflioch, an ally of Merlin Ambrosius and the immortal Lazarus.  While The Wayside would change hands many times over the centuries, technically the tavern always belonged to him.  Being immortal (or near as), he never died; so the property rights never legally reverted back to the local government.

When it became apparent that the specter of Prohibition would be ratified, Dante “Donnio” Ometti, who had wrested control of The Wayside from the previous owner through… unorthodox means, came up with the brilliant idea that Hyoond the Meteor should be named as the bar’s owner.  For some reason, Ometti figured it would keep him safe from government interference.  Technically, he was already safe, since the federal government didn’t even know Canterville existed and the village’s sheriff was in Ometti’s pocket.

(O’Bservation – “Ometti” is another fae alias, this time Italian in origin.  I’m using it more to protect me than him.  Donnio is long dead, but his family still lives. Timjimmy says he sees the ghost of that previous owner of The Wayside standing forlornly on the shore of Meesix Beach and that’s why he never goes swimming in Ackerbie Pond.)

I don’t know why it never occurred to Donnio Ometti that the Monitaurs do more than just protect the village from the thin places which might pop up at random, and from whatever might sneak out of them; the Monitaurs see themselves more as interdimensional state troopers.  It didn’t take long before Ometti found himself incarcerated in one of the original vortals (“vortex portals”) which had been converted into a “holding cell” between worlds.  (O’Bservation - I don’t know if it can be considered irony, but that vortex version of the “Phantom Zone” is on the grounds of the Old New-gate Prison.)

Aflioch the Nephilim, now sporting a new identity, returned as a new owner of his own property for the next few decades, with Lazarus, also under a new guise, relieving him before questions might arise because he wasn’t aging.  They kept switching off, relying on glamours for new disguises, until they discovered that former Canterville native Timjimmy Auxberon had the temperament – as a self-described “Speaker to Spooks” who was raised in the Flatlands – to handle whatever might come The Wayside’s way in the new millennium.

But in all that time of the tavern’s existence, with that unearthly meteor still considere as the co-owner, Hyoond never revealed one last hidden talent before Timjimmy took over.

It could not be denied that Hyoond and The Wayside were locked into the border between Connecticut and Massachusetts, but apparently nowhere was it written that it couldn’t travel elsewhere in the state… as long as it remained connected to the border between both states.

More on that anon….

[sweeethinny]

Boss's son

Summary: Ginny is an auror in training, with few hours of fun in her schedule, but when one night she decides to go to a guy's house and enjoy her youth, she is surprised by the discovery that she had sex with her boss's son

prompt: "You’ve got to stop doing that" "Doing what?" "Saying things that make me wanna kiss you"

"Mum thinks I'm dating you".

Notes: I thought I couldn't finish this, really, I found myself stuck and not knowing where to go with the story, but then some things happened and I managed to finish it.

Thank you very much to Dusk who read and helped me, and thank to @clarensjoy who made this incredible event to celebrate this incredible date!

I feel that this role reversal would be good to write, and it really was, I think the idea of Ginny being an auror ... Chief's kiss :)

AO3

-------------

Ginny Weasley

Ginny did not have many fears, she had joined the Aurors in less than three years and until now she had faced death many times to be frightened by small things that other people could easily be haunted by. Dementors no longer scared her, nor Death Eaters, or anything like that, Ginny was no longer scared like a puppy in distress. She had learned to deal with situations, Mr Potter was a great boss - she would never say otherwise - but he also scared his pupils like no one else, saying that being on the alert was the best way to be a good Auror.

'Good aurors do not shake when they see the danger, they assess the situation and try to find the solution as soon as possible. Take a minute, and you will be dead.' He said in defense classes, standing on the podium with that typical scowl on him, arms crossed, watching the students trying to knock down the mannequins around the room.

But now, Ginny was mortified.

She felt her knees tremble, and she even felt the high heel in her fingers almost falling to the most manicured marble floor she had ever seen in her life. Her eyes were wide open, an immense desire to disappear completely, or to oblivion the man in front of her.

Her boss. Oblivion her fucking boss.

Ginny almost never had time to go out with guys, she went to the bar, drank, and then came home too tired to endure a round of bad sex, with some man who would cry in her ear about how hot she was and how he couldn't take it any longer. She would rather sleep, and later use her fingers, than have to put up with these guys, and clean up the mess later.

Yesterday however, it was a different day, Mr Potter, the most serious man Ginny had ever met in her life, was happy and told her that he was celebrating twenty years of marriage. They were in a distant village, checking a call from a lady who said she saw a wizard kill another one around those parts, but even that didn't seem to be able to wipe the smile off the man's face.

'Twenty years. Can you believe it?' He sighed, looking over to where the woman said there was a body, kicking what was filthy wrapped in old newsprint. Just a dead dog. 'Twenty years...'

'You look very happy,' Ginny said. 'Congratulations, Mr Potter.'

'Thank you, Miss. Weasley, and yes, I am very happy.' The man once again assured that the place was clean before checking to see if there were any dark arts nearby, or on the animal. Nothing. 'Come on, we just wasted time here.'

She had left earlier that day, Mr Potter said he was too happy to be sitting at the office table waiting for something to happen, and since she was his pupil, and she would also have to sit around waiting for some action, she could leave earlier.

Ginny didn't know much to do with that free time, she was usually always bogged down with work, so when Luna asked her out, she accepted. It was a nice night, the bar was not so crowded, there weren't so many disgusting guys leaning against her and whispering in her ear, and she was really enjoying the night, happy, laughing, talking to her friends, drinking, until she saw him.

He was sitting a few tables away, with some Arrows players, drinking and laughing out loud, drawing the attention of all the women around. At first, Ginny thought he was doing it to get attention, messing up his hair like an idiot, throwing his head back to laugh, talking loudly and rocking in his chair. But when a blonde went to talk to him, the boy seemed surprised by the attention, and even blushed, before smiling and politely denying, saying something more to her - this time, in a low voice.

The mysterious man looked at Ginny then, catching her in the act, his eyes behind the round glasses seeming to sparkle with amusement. He bit his lip and raised his beer mug in a silent toast. She did the same, wishing she hadn't been hit hard by him.

'Hello.' He said when Ginny went to the bar to get another round. The man didn't touch her, not even her shoulders, or whisper in her ear. He kept a good distance, smiling politely and ordering his beers.

'Hi.' Ginny smiled, leaning against the counter, feeling a little stupid for wanting the man to notice how beautiful her legs looked in those black skirts. 'Isn't the blonde your type?' She asked, a little sassy because of the alcohol, and also a little affected by how beautiful his green eyes were, stuck in her face as she spoke.

'No. I just came to drink. 'He put his hand on the counter, and Ginny didn't know if it was a way to show that there was no ring on his fingers, or just something casual. Anyway, she realized how all his fingers were free of any silver or gold. 'Is that you?'

'Too. My boss gave me an hour off. It doesn't happen every day. 'She smiled, shrugging.

'An asshole boss?' He raised his eyebrow, leaning on the counter too, now a little closer to her, but without touching her.

'Sometimes.' She joked.

Now Ginny felt mortified, standing on the stairs with her shoes in hand, her hair in a messy and badly done bun, and probably still with makeup traces on her face. Besides that bite mark on her neck. She was taking the walk of shame in front of her boss. The boss that she said was an asshole - sometimes - last night.

She had fucked with her boss's son! Merlin, how stupid she had been to overlook the similarities.

Standing now, looking at Mr. Potter, Harry was an identical copy of him, only a few years younger, and his eyes, of course, that were green. But still, she couldn't even believe it.

Ginny looked like a bitch in front of her boss.

'Good morning.' It was he who said it first, his eyes wide, seeming to try at all costs to remain in her face. Ginny suddenly felt almost naked, thinking about how that shirt was low-cut.

'Good morning, Mr Potter,' she replied, startled, holding tightly to the wooden railing, thinking about how Harry had pressed her there, almost fucking her on the stairs. Ginny swallowed.

The man just nodded, walking hurriedly into the kitchen, his cheeks flushed and avoiding looking at her as much as possible. Ginny ran out of the house as fast as she could, not even waiting to see if he was going to ask her out for breakfast. Merlin, she would see you at work in less than an hour!

Ginny apparated to her home, safe and without a boss catching her leaving his son's room, after having sex with the hottest man she had ever met. By Merlin's underpants, she was lost.

[...]

The atmosphere between the two was completely tense, Ginny and James barely met each other's eyes, or talked in general, she remained at her desk working with the papers they were carrying out, while Mr. Potter remained in his own office, calling her rarely .

Her career was ruined.

Mr. Potter would never refer her to any job again, and maybe he would trade her for the idiot Elliot. Elliot did not have sex with his son and sneaked out the next morning.

It wasn't hidden at least, she needed to work and Harry was sleeping, she left a note saying that.

'Miss. Weasley, come here please.' He called her, as he usually did, but now it seemed that all of her teachings about never letting your opponent realize that you were scared, had gone down the drain. Ginny could already taste the dismissal.

‘Yes, Mr. Potter?’ Ginny stopped at his office door, her knees trembling behind her pants, her hands sweating.

‘Please come in and close the door.’ She would be fired, or changed. Elliot the idiot was going to win the job she had worked so hard to get. She would never be a well-qualified Auror now, she would remain working only as a watchman for the rest of her life. Forget about promotions, trips to specializations, forget about even missions in the field, she would stay locked up in the office forever, visiting only the old women who always thought they had seen something.

All this because she wanted to have sex with a hot guy.

‘About today earlier-’

'I'm sorry, Mr. Potter.' Ginny interrupted him. ‘I didn’t want it to happen, if I had known-’

'I think if you want to apologize, it will have to be for my son and not for me.' James smiled, his cheeks slightly flushed. He took off his glasses to clean them, but Ginny thought it was an excuse for not having to look her in the eye. ‘About today earlier, I don’t think either of us wants to argue about or keep reminiscing about the event. Maybe we should just forget that we saw each other, and go on with life like that ... I think Harry was a little ... er ... worried about not seeing you for breakfast, but I didn't say anything to him. I would, of course, invite you to join us, but when I came back you were already gone...'

'Thank you.' Ginny sighed. ‘What happened in the morning?’

'That is why I chose you as my pupil, Miss. Weasley.' James also sighed, adjusting his glasses on his face. 'But I must tell you that Harry is coming to have lunch with me. If you want to .. I don’t know, leave early for lunch… I don’t know how your relationship with my son is… ’

'It's okay.' She tried not to remember that she had spoken badly about her boss to Harry. Harry's father. ‘Thank you, Mr. Potter, again.’

'You're welcome.'

Ginny didn't want to prove that she was a coward running away from Harry, or to make Mr. Potter think she had any reason to run away from him. So Ginny stayed, stomping her feet anxiously and trying to concentrate on the paperwork in front of her, arranging everything in folders and in alphabetical order, handing out some papers over the tables of the other Aurors who didn't even seem to notice her nervousness, all too busy.

When the big clock struck midday and the elevator opened on their floor, Ginny felt her blood run cold, hearing footsteps approaching and people looking more excited about whoever had entered. Her hand was shaking like a beginner's, trying to detach the sheet.

‘Ginny?’ Her voice called out to him, softly, as if he didn’t want people to look at her. She thanks. 'You work here?'

'Oh, hello Harry.' Ginny finally looked at him, dropping the scrolls and keeping her hands in her lap, watching the boy in front of her. In the daylight he looked even more handsome, messy and dark hair that she remembered to be soft and smelling, a stubble that had pinched her skin in a good way, mesmerizing green eyes, a pink mouth that had done a lot of wonders with her ... The man was a God, looking beautiful even in jeans torn at the knees, a black T-shirt and boots. The cover was open, but Ginny did not fail to notice that the fabric appeared to be of the best quality, held by a single buttercup near his neck. 'Yes.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' He continued to speak softly, but everyone was already starting to turn their necks to try to understand what the hell the chief's son was doing standing at poor Ginny's table.

Now that there was enough light and there was no alcohol running through her body, she thought it was obvious that Harry was James' son. She had been so silly.

‘I didn’t think it was important.’

'Oh, I see you guys met.' Mr Potter interrupted them, which Ginny would thank him later, his hand on his son's shoulder, looking at Ginny and then at Harry, who had a confused look on his face. 'Harry, let's have lunch and let Miss. Weasley can too, we don't want the woman to miss her time, do we?' The squeezing on his son's shoulder seemed to make the man wake up, and like his father, Harry smiled.

'Right. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss. Weasley. Have a nice day.'

[...]

When Ginny left work, it was as if a giant was coming off her shoulders, and she felt more tired than usual because of the tension. After lunch, the other Aurors did not seem to have swallowed the story that Harry and Ginny had first met that morning, and of course she overheard some guys saying that it was how she got the job of pupil.

Great, she thought, it was all I wanted.

Ignore the years of studying, the sleepless nights, the exhausting post-workout where she cried in the bath, the times she thought about giving up - and almost did - but was stopped by her brothers or her parents, and all those tiring missions that James seemed to do just to exhaust the Aurors and see who could still stand.

Forget all that, she got the job after swallowing the boss's son's dick.

Ginny quickened her pace, angry as never before, feeling that she needed to get home, take a shower, and do something to de-stress.

‘Hey!’ A voice called from behind her, and because of all the tension surrounding her and the training, Ginny squeezed her wand around her waist. 'Can we talk?' A slightly sweaty, pink-cheeked Harry stopped in front of her. He didn't even seem to be feeling the icy weather of March, wearing only sweatpants and a jacket, carrying a bag with him.

'What do you want to talk about?' She pressed the cloak against herself, feeling a little shiver, but maybe it was not about the cold but about the fact that the man looked even hot that way.

'Wow, you don't have to be defensive, I'm not here to fight.' He held up his hands. 'Do you want to go somewhere else? Maybe have a coffee? ’

Ginny knew inside that she shouldn't accept, not after knowing how he felt inside her, on top of her, kissing her body, sucking and licking certain parts, how he moaned her name and held her against him when he came, as if he wanted to be sure that she would feel what she did to him.

It was not a safe plan, it was a suicide mission.

'Of course, it will be better,' she said, ignoring all the warnings that it would not end well. Harry smiled, picking up the backpack he had placed on the floor and walking beside her, in silence.

His scent seemed to fill all around her, and Ginny had to work hard not to show that it was affecting her.

They didn't take long to arrive at the coffee shop, it was close by and Ginny's favorite to eat after a stressful day. All the meals were delicious, a warmth in the heart after a bad time. The decor was cheerful, in contrast to the gray London, the walls were colorful, the tables a cream color with flower pots in the middle, and it was as if winter or bad weather never arrived inside that environment. It was always summer there. The owner, Mrs. Rodrigues, was a friendly and adorable Brazilian, always smiling and talking to whoever came in.

'Hello, Miss Weasley, how are we on that gray afternoon?' The woman asked, with an accent that said she was not from there.

'Now, better than before.' Ginny smiled. ‘Just smelling your carrot cake, I’m already happy.’

'No, dear, don't say that or I will get used to it.' Mrs. Rodrigues blushed, and then smiled at Harry beside Ginny, fixing the white cap on her voluminous hair. ‘What will the two want today?’

'The carrot cake and the Pão de Queijo basket, please.' Ginny asked.

'A coffee, and ... the carrot cake too,' Harry said.

Mrs. Rodrigues wrote down and smiled at both of them, indicating an empty table further down, near the window and the various flowers that Ginny still did not know how she did to keep them alive, and the two went there, in silence, with only the Brazilian music playing in a pleasant volume filling the lack of conversation between them, the voice of some couples and teenagers was mixed by the environment.

'I didn't know you were my boss's son, I have to say that.' Ginny broke the silence first, looking at Harry in front of her, anxious hands playing with the flower pot on the table.

'If you knew...?' Harry seemed nervous for the answer, arms crossed on the table, green eyes fixed on her, waiting for Ginny to say what he should already know.

‘We wouldn’t have gone out together.’ She smiled sadly. 'You understand why, right? I mean, your dad is my boss, he wouldn’t see it in a good way, and my coworkers would think, in fact they already think, that I used this to get to be where I am.’

‘If you want to know, my dad has been trying to get me out with you since he met you.’ Harry said as if talking about the weather, shrugging and smiling, never diverting her attention. ‘I think he was just surprised that he didn’t know you were there, maybe he expected me to say that I went out with you or that someone would tell him, to see you there in the morning, it was something he didn’t expect.’

‘Did you know who I was at the bar?’

'No! No, I didn't know who you were. He was talking about his pupil, and all your qualities as an auror, and seriously, I don't think I've ever seen him speak so well of one of his young aurors.' Ginny wouldn't express, of course, but she felt a little of pride inside her, thinking of the times that Mr Potter put her into more rigid training than the others, just because "she learned faster than the others." He really believed in her potential! Take that, Elliot. ‘Mum thinks I'm dating you, after she heard you were there… She was a little upset that you ran away.’

'I didn't run away,' Ginny defended herself, laughing softly when she saw Harry laugh, imagining that she should be blushing like never before.'I needed to come to work, and I met my boss at the house of the guy I had sex with, there was no way I could stay for coffee.'

'You could.' Harry shrugged. 'Sorry I didn't warn you about my parents, it never happened before, and I was a little too busy.' He blinked, in the way that made Ginny feel like jelly, the slightly arched black eyebrow and the little smile that did it all seem a little too erotic for that afternoon. He didn't even seem to be trying to do that.

'What did not happen? You taking one of your father's Aurors to your home?' She joked, just to dissipate that heat that took over her body, and to remind her of who she was talking to. Son of your boss, son of your boss, son of your boss, Ginny repeated in her mind.

'That too, but I say about taking girls, in general, at home.' Harry licked his lips when the waiter brought their orders, smiling at both of them and apologizing for interrupting the conversation, placing the basket of Pão de Queijo in the middle of the table for the two, and the piece of cake in front of each other, in addition to Harry's coffee.

Ginny's stomach rumbled when she saw the delicious warm and fragrant Pão de Queijo, together with the delicious smell of carrot cake and brigadeiro, she even felt a little less nervous now that she had something else to pay attention to, other than the mesmerizing eyes from Harry.

None of them spoke much after they started eating, other than the moans of satisfaction they shared as soon as they ate the first pão de queijo, focused only on eating that delicious delicacy and letting the music take over their thoughts, as if it were normal for Harry and her shared a table in the afternoon, eating together and being used to the moment.

It was so simple to be with him, so familiar, that it scared Ginny a little bit, whenever she stopped to analyze.

'I feel like you're not going to accept that I ask you out, now that I know about your concern for your co-workers?' Harry asked, pulling the plate of cake closer and picking up a piece, looking focused on just looking at the slice, instead of for Ginny, and she missed his eyes on her.

'It's complicated,' she admitted, looking at her own slice. 'There are not many women in the Auror Department and they already think that I managed to be where I am, just because I did something for your father, and not because I deserved it and worked hard. You understand? It’s a little more difficult for us women to inhabit predominantly male places.’

'I understand.' Harry looked at her, and he didn't seem upset that she denied his request, he seemed upset about the reason that made her do this. 'But you know that you cannot live, listening and taking what they say about you as truth, you know? I'm not saying that for you to go out with me, it’s not that, it's just because ... Everything my father says about you, made me understand that he chose you because you were good, very good, in what you did. You know you are, and how you made it this far, is not what others will say that will change that. They don’t know anything.’

[...]

The days passed faster than Ginny expected, after the meeting with Harry, the hours were confused between studying for the test that would take place at the end of the month and working, Mr Potter did not comment on his son, and Harry did not appear for more. there too. Now that she was paying attention, Ginny noticed that there was a picture of the boy in the chief's office, Harry, a child, teenager, and adult, wearing the Arrows' uniform.

He also started to appear in the newspaper, now that he had officially joined the team, and it wasn't just a reserve, so Ginny ended up seeing him during breakfast, stamping the sports column.

She also saw him at night, before going to sleep, when they were calling to talk in the mirror, the two tired, telling about what the day had been like. She said she couldn't accept going out with him, not being a friend.

Although she thought things that friends did not think about each other, and sometimes Harry flirted with her, without much pretension, seeming to just do it naturally.

‘You’ve got to stop doing that’ He said, biting his lower lip as if he wanted to hold himself back from laughing, lying shirtless while talking to her, who was putting the books in the drawer, getting ready to go to bed.

'Doing what?' Ginny asked, taking the mirror from the dresser and going to the bed, leaving the candle light still on so he could see it.

‘Saying things that make me wanna kiss you’

'Harry ...' Ginny warned him, blushing like a tomato, only to hear him laugh and blink those beautiful green eyes towards her.

"I'm not doing anything, besides, your exams are next week, which means I'm almost close to being able to take you on a real date." They had agreed this, in fact, it was Ginny who brought it up. a week after the James incident, just because she started thinking hard about how good that night had been, and how much better it would be if there was no alcohol in her blood and she didn't have to face the boss the next morning, before she even brushed the teeth.

After she took the test, they could leave, but still, it was very public until the result came out. Ginny didn't want anyone to doubt her ability, nor did the fact that dating Harry influence James' thinking.

'But then, there is still a week to go.' She reminded him.

'How are you feeling?'

'Anxious,' she admitted, thinking again about how easy it was to open up to Harry. 'How was the training today?' He moved, the noise of the sheets making her think things inappropriate for that moment.

'Tiring, I have pain in my thighs.' Harry made a lovely face, his nose slightly wrinkled.

'Poor thing about you.' Ginny tuned her voice as if she were talking to a baby, which made the man laugh, something that always made Ginny have her ego boosted a thousand times.

Harry looked cute laughing.

'You could come here and help me, I know that Aurors know how to do very good healing spells.' He blinked, and this time it was Ginny who laughed.

'Shut up. Good night, Harry. 'Ginny felt and saw that her cheeks got even hotter, but Harry didn't seem affected, he seemed to approve of that.

'Good night, Weasley ... One week, I'm counting.' He smiled, and something inside her trembled in excitement and excitement so that the week would pass soon.

'I know you do, Potter. Bye. ’

[official-weasley]

Meant to Be (Charlie Weasley x OC)

What happens when Bill brings home a girl and Charlie is completely awestruck by her?

WARNINGS: curse words, mentions of alcohol, SMUT

A/N: This chapter contains a rather long sexy scene (probably the longest I have ever written and well..it’s…juicy. I had a day, okay. BYE 🙈)

Chapter 14

Charlie

3 months later…

“Charlie, you got a minute?” I stopped in front of the Admission Office.

“Of course, Ernie. Got something for me?” I grinned at him.

“A letter from your brother.” He handed me the envelope. “What got you all cheered up today?”

“What do you mean?” I kept looking at the letter.

After all these months it still felt amazing getting a couple of letters per week from Bill.

“I heard you whistling walking here. You only whistle when you’re in a really good mood.” He smirked.

“It’s the first Saturday in August, Ernie. You know what that means!” I couldn’t hide the smile that spread across my face.

I can’t believe Ernie noticed when I whistle.

The truth is, I don’t recall the last time I was this happy. The mating season was over. Bill and I were on speaking terms again. Just last month I was able to see all my siblings and my parents again.

We had a family reunion and Bill and I got Ron drunk by accident. We had two bottles on the table. One with wine and the other with apple juice and we forgot to check the bottle before pouring him a drink.

He, of course, didn’t say anything and after two glasses he was hammered. Bill and I couldn’t stop laughing at the way he spoke and he was so tipsy. He tried getting up and almost fell flat on his face and then found it so funny that he fell off the bench we were sitting on.

It wasn’t funny when mum found us and saw something was wrong. Bill tried to distract her but failed and she figured us out. She made us take Ron to bed and then we planned to hide in the attic with the ghoul but mum found us and she shouted in our faces for a solid hour. I felt as if I was 12 again.

When she stopped she made us go down and wait on our family members for the rest of the night. Before we did, we made an excuse that we need to use the toilet and we locked ourselves in the bathroom on the middle floor and started laughing so hard I thought I won’t be able to catch a breath. We might be 23 and 25, which is way too old to make mum so mad, but we didn’t care. We were having the time of our lives.

I can’t begin to describe how happy it made me that I could hang out with Bill again. With my siblings. To get a bone-crushing hug from Ginny and play chess with Ron. It’s indescribable. For the first time since I started working in Romania, I wanted to plan my days off to go and see them again and I was loving it.

I was finally myself again. Talking to my family. Supporting and being there for my siblings. Teasing Bill for being so in love and having the best job in the world. I even made myself a bookshelf and I am slowly filling it with books.

My routine in the Sanctuary is more or less the same. I wake up. Make myself a coffee and go watch the sunrise. I am no longer overthinking if Rhylee’s going to be there and if she is, we simply watch the sun showing itself from behind the mountains together.

I didn’t think I would be able to be friends with her after what happened at her place that night but we grew even closer. She was one of my best friends. That didn’t mean my feelings for her faded away. But they were easier to bear now that I didn’t feel guilty for being in love with her.

I have come to terms that I will never call her mine. It was painful, I am not going to lie about that but at least I can move on and not overthink her every move.

Bill and my friends in the Reserve all think that I should tell her how I feel but every time they try and persuade me I stop them. I made a mistake telling my mates what Bill told me about Nick. Ever since I did they are trying to do everything to bring me and Rhylee together. At first, I wanted to kill them but now I just find it amusing.

I am proud of myself for how much I’ve grown. I feel more mature and I see things differently. I see what matters and I push myself to do things that make me happy. I read more. I run. I train Aami and Bean, that’s the name Rhylee decided to give our albino Short-Snout. I hang out with my friends and advise my siblings. I really couldn’t ask for more.

The fact that I am still awestruck every time I see Rhylee or that my heart wants to escape my ribcage every time she laughs or looks at me, is just a minor inconvenience now. I can deal with that with everything else being so great. I wouldn’t change my current life for anything in the world if it means I make my family happy and I can hang out with my friends while having the best job.

At first, I wanted to fight my feelings. Push them down. Get rid of them somehow. But I quickly realized that I can’t change them and that it’s pointless to think they are simply going away. I have meaningless sex and even though it’s never as it was with Rhylee, it still counts as a fun night and it’s a good distraction.

I might get lucky and find myself a girl to settle down with one day. For now, I was happy with the things being as they were. It wasn’t perfect but it was much much better compared to the painful loop I was in before.

“I’ll be damned!” Ernie’s voice brought me back to reality. “I forgot about the party tonight!” He slammed his hand at his forehead. “Thanks, Charlie for reminding me! Can you imagine me forgetting about it?” He shook his head.

“Ernie, if it’s going to be anything like last year, just the music and us being all over the place would remind you soon enough.” I laughed.

Every year, in the first week of August we had a party. We invited everybody from the neighboring wizard villages and there was always someone that borrowed something Muggles call speakers. We decorate the central area of our village with lights and put tables and chairs around it so it looks like a dance floor. We hang the speakers from the trees and we help with the cooking throughout the day.

The party officially begins the second we are done with work and the music starts playing. It’s something we all look forward to all summer. Theo has been talking about it for two weeks now. He made an entire plan on getting us all so wasted that if he asked Gerta out again, we won’t remember how she slaps him in the face.

“You’re right, mate! I’ll see you there!” Ernie started putting papers together. “I have to clean up the office early if I want to make it to the party in time!”

“Want me to help you? I just finished working.” I offered.

“Oh, no! You go get all nice and ready, so you can dance with the ladies!” He laughed and I followed.

“Will do, Ernie. Will do.” I waved to him and started walking toward my home.

People were already running left and right, checking if everything is ready. I unlocked my front door and closed it with my foot while opening Bill’s letter.

Dear Charlie,

I know you’re going to be busy this weekend with your big party and everything, but I just had to write to you about this.

I bought a wedding ring for Fleur today. I am planning on asking her to marry me this weekend. I am taking her to the beach near Shell Cottage. Dad said that perhaps we could even buy it if we ask aunt Muriel nicely. I don’t want to get my hopes up but I can imagine myself living with Fleur there.

I am planning a romantic picnic and popping the question by the end of the night! I would love your opinion on the matter but I sent out this letter too late for your owl to reach me with your answer. Perhaps while you’re reading this, I’m already engaged!

Can you feel how nervous I am through my letter?

Anyways, I just needed to share that with you!

Wish me luck!

Oh, and have fun at the party! Please have the time of your life and don’t hold back in case anything ought to happen, if you know what I mean!

Love, Bill

Merlin’s beard, he is getting engaged! It was Saturday, so either he is already or he will be soon!

I jumped in the air in the middle of my living room that’s how happy I was for him. I hope they can convince aunt Muriel to sell them Shell Cottage. We used to go there as kids and it’s a wonderful place to start a family.

I blinked as I felt my eyes water. I wish I had the time to write him back and tell him how fucking proud I am of him for doing this and that I think Fleur will be thrilled for how he is planning to propose. I can’t wait for them to have babies so I can be an uncle!

What was I doing?

I put the letter down and scratched my head. I was so excited for my brother that I completely forgot.

Party! Right!

I hurried to take a shower and then opened my closet to see what I could wear. I didn’t wear jeans for ages. So let’s go with that and a buttoned shirt. I checked myself out in the small mirror in the bathroom and combed my hair with my fingers. As much as I could comb it. My hair was untamable.

I think I look pretty good! Not that it matters as I knew Theo is going to get us all drunk in about 15 minutes! I locked the door behind me and started walking toward the music.

“There he is!” Andrew raised his glass at me the second he spotted me.

“Look at you being all handsome!” Theo put a hand over my shoulder the second I sat down.

“Are you flirting with me, Theodore?” I winked at him. “My place or yours?”

“Damn, Charles. Is that how you flirt with women because if I wasn’t married I would go with you right now.” Peter laughed.

“I would love to, Weasley. But I am going home with Gerta tonight!” Theo was determined.

“Really?” Andrew and John asked together before bursting out laughing.

“We should get one of those Muggle devices that capture what is going on. So that even if none of us remembers tonight we could watch it in the morning.” Evan said.

“I will stay sober just to see Theo get slapped by Gerta!” Peter smirked.

“You’re already tipsy, boss.” Andrew obviously didn’t believe Peter will stay sober.

“Damn, you’re right.” Peter said after a few seconds of thinking about it.

We all started laughing.

Three hours later our table had 3 empty bottles of Fire Whiskey on it, more empty beer bottles than one could count and the waitress just brought another round. To say that we were completely hammered was an understatement.

We were laughing at something, tears running down my face. I am pretty confident none of us knew what the joke was or who told it.

“Theodore, there you are damn it!” Our faces got serious the second we comprehended who was standing in front of us.

“Gerta, love!” Theo stood up, knocking a few bottles off the table.

“I am just wasted enough to say yes to you. Now come with me before I change my mind!”

I have no idea how Theo fancied this woman. I was terrified of her. Even her harsh voice scared me.

We all watched Theo and Gerta going towards her hut with our mouths open.

“Please, tell me one of us will be able to remember that in the morning!” Peter whined.

“I don’t think I could forget this if I drank the entire alcohol stash in the Sanctuary.” Andrew said slowly.

He looked like he was about to throw up.

“What is happening?” Evan, who was sleeping, leaned on his crossed arms, lifted his head.

“Gerta just took Theo home.” I answered, still in shock.

“What?!” I thought his eyes were going to fall out of their sockets and I think it’s safe to say he just sobered up.

“Look, Charlie!” Peter and John leaned against me. “It’s Rhylee.” They sang together.

“So?” I rolled my eyes.

I knew this was coming. I was hoping they would be too drunk to remember to tease me about her, but apparently, they weren’t there yet.

“Come on! Go and dance with her!” John tried pushing me to stand up but he was too weak.

It was funny how I was the youngest but did the best with alcohol.

“Give me a break, mates.” I pretended to look through the bottles to see if there was one that wasn’t opened yet.

“C’mon! She has been eyeing you all night!” Peter said. “Have some fun, will you!”

I sighed and got up. I knew they wouldn’t stop until I would go and ask her to dance. And to be perfectly honest, I was too drunk to care or to feel nervous about it.

I made my way to her. Surprised that I wasn’t tipsy at all.

“Hi.” I waved at her awkwardly. “Want to dance?”

“Sure!” She grinned and stood up at once.

I haven’t noticed how drunk she was until we reached the dance floor and she started hugging me. We danced to a few songs and I didn’t even dare to look at the table where my friends were sitting. They would probably start cheering.

The next song was a slow one. Shit! Who’s idea was this?

Rhylee pulled me closer, our bodies slamming against each other and if I wasn’t so steady on my feet we would collapse to the ground. She wrapped her arms around my waist and brought her face closer to mine.

“You look very handsome tonight.” She winked at me.

Okay, I think it’s time to take her home. She is drunk and doesn’t know what she’s saying.

“Thanks. You look great too.” I didn’t know what else to say.

Of course, she looked great. She was gorgeous. But I’m not going to admit that to her.

I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. Not one bit. It’s the same look she was giving me all night the night we had sex at the Burrow and I am not going through that again. I might not be hurting anyone this time but she was in a relationship.

“Let’s get you home, shall we.” I smiled at her and hugged her over the shoulder.

“No! Why?” She tried to stop me. “We just started dancing. Come on, Charlie! Loosen up a bit!” She got so close to me that if I wouldn’t move my head backward we would kiss.

This was getting out of hand.

She wrapped her hands around me again. How was she so strong if she was as drunk as she appeared to be? I sighed and we danced through one more song.

“Okay, now you can take me home.” Her whispering in my ear sent shivers down my spine.

We were slowly making our way through the crowd, toward her cottage when I remembered that I never opened the present she got me for Christmas at the Burrow. I have no idea why it popped in my head but I was just drunk enough not to care and admit to her that I lost it.

“Hey, Rhy?” I cleared my throat.

“Yes?” Her eyes were too hopeful for my liking.

“Do you remember the present you gave me for Christmas when we met?” She simply hummed in response.

I felt my cheeks turn pink. This was embarrassing. After what happened between us and she gave me the little package, I simply tossed it in my bag. I don’t remember where I put it once I got back to Romania and I don’t even know why we are talking about it now but apparently drunk Charlie’s curiosity got the better of him and wants to know what’s inside.

“I never got the chance to open it and I misplaced it somehow. What was inside?” I said as quickly as I could.

I didn’t want to offend her for losing it.

“What?” She laughed.

“What was inside the little box?” I repeated the question.

“Where did you lose it?” She ignored me.

“It has to be somewhere in my cottage if I didn’t toss it in the trash by accident.” I scratched my chin, thinking hard where it could be.

“Well, let’s go then!” She grabbed my hand and started walking.

“Where are you taking me?” I chuckled.

“We are going to search your place for my present!” She bestowed me with the biggest grin I have ever seen.

She seemed so pleased with her idea.

“Now?” I chortled.

“Yes!” She exclaimed. “The gift might be silly but we got to see what I got you!”

“You don’t remember?” I raised my eyebrows at her and she stopped walking for a second.

“I am not sure.” She said slowly after a few seconds. “Come on, Charlie! It’ll be fun!”

I haven’t seen her this relaxed and happy in months. She grabbed my hand and started walking towards my cottage again. She was so excited to do this that I simply couldn’t deny her the satisfaction of finding the little box. And to be completely honest, I didn’t want to stop her.

“Okay, so if I was a little box, where would I be?” She put her hands on her hips, thinking hard, her eyes scanning every shelf and drawer. I started in the kitchen and she went to check the compartment in my bathroom.

After half an hour we completely trashed the place but I didn’t mind at all. I was having too much fun with her. She started throwing the clothes out of my closet, jumper after jumper and I started moving the socks away to see if I tossed it in the drawer.

I almost gave up when my fingers touched something that wasn’t fabric. I pulled out a small red box with a green bow on it. This was it!

“Rhy, I found it!” I heard her gasp.

I think she was standing inside my closet. I laughed when she poked her head out of it. She was adorable!

She hurried to me, stepping over piles of clothes, and stopped right in front of me.

“Open it.” She whispered, her eyes on the box in my hands.

I slowly removed the lid and shook the box’s contents onto my palm. I couldn’t believe it. It was a dragon scale. A dragon scale of an albino dragon.

That’s what she got me for Christmas?

I know it didn’t mean anything because she didn’t even know who she was bringing the gift to but I was still astounded. She knew I loved dragons so she got me a dragon scale. I couldn’t take my eyes off it.

“You call this a silly gift?” I breathed.

Rhylee dragged her finger across it and put it back in the box. I was so in shock at what it was that I didn’t notice how fast she was breathing. She took the box from my hand and placed it on top of my dresser.

“Rhy, are you o…”

She cupped my face and kissed me hard on the mouth. I was so startled by her action that I didn’t have the time to respond.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled away, her hand over her mouth.

“Emm…it’s okay.” I didn’t know what to say.

I just kept staring at her with my eyes wide open, trying to calm my heart down.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” I could see the panic in her eyes growing.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t enjoy the kiss? Because that would be a bloody lie. I have been dreaming about kissing her again since we spent the night together at the Burrow.

Did she even know what she was doing? How drunk was she? Because that kiss definitely sobered me up! I thought we were over this. She stopped that night when I came to her place. Why did she do it now? I thought I was doing a good job being her friend. Why does she mess with me like this!

I needed every muscle in my body not to grab her hand and pull her back for another kiss. I can’t do this, can I? She has a boyfriend. Somebody will get hurt again! I can’t go through that guilt again. I can’t hurt someone else. Even if I don’t know the guy. Even if he is a prick like Bill said.

Bill…

What did Bill say in his letter this morning?

Please have the time of your life and don’t hold back in case anything ought to happen, if you know what I mean!

Don’t hold back. Bill, that’s not helping!

I was trapped. I wanted to grab her hand and prevent her from leaving but at the same time, I wanted to do the right thing. My heart was beating so fast that it hurt and the look in Rhylee’s eyes wasn’t helping me decide. It was a mix of panic and hope. Hope, that I would decide for her whether or not this was a bad idea.

Of course, it’s a bad idea, Rhylee! It’s the worst possible idea.

“I have to go.” She bowed her head and started towards the door of my bedroom.

It’s a bad idea.

It is a really bad idea.

I know, damn it!

But do I care?

I stepped toward her, almost tripping over the clothes on the floor.

Do I care?

I grabbed her hand and turned her around, our bodies colliding. Her eyes slowly moved up to lock with mine. We were both breathing heavily.

“Charlie.”

Damn it, Rhylee! You can’t say my name like that. Don’t ask for me to do something.

Okay, let’s go over this again.

Is it a bad idea? Yes.

Do I care? I am just drunk enough that it’s safe to say that no, I do not.

I placed my hands around her neck and kissed her. I thought she was going to resist me. I was waiting for her to pull away. But she didn’t. She was doing quite to opposite. She parted my lips with her tongue and it gently found mine. She was kissing me back.

Merlin’s beard, this was insane! I can’t believe I forgot how good her lips felt on mine. What an amazing kisser she was. How soft her lips were and with what passion she kissed me.

I put her hands on her hips and brought us closer to the bed. With a gentle nudge, she was lying on it, that playful look in her eyes again. I climbed on top of her and wrapped my fingers around her hair and gently pulled it back so she tilted her head and revealed her neck.

I placed a soft kiss just behind her right ear and I felt her tremble. I kissed her again, not so softly this time. I started biting her neck and I felt her moving under me.

This simply can’t be wrong. It felt too right to be wrong.

I pushed myself up and started to unbutton my shirt. I looked down at her. Damn, she was so sexy. She always was but the fact that she was wearing a dress when she always wears either jeans or sweatpants was frying my brain.

“Please, fuck me, Charlie!”

Seriously, she was begging me?

Why in Godric’s Hollow did I put a shirt with so many buttons on? I don’t have time to do this! I put my hands on my chest and pulled the shirt off me. The sound of fabric ripping filled my ears and my heart started pumping even faster when I saw Rhylee’s eyes shine.

I helped her get up and pressed her against the wall. She wants me to do her, I will do it my way!

I took my precious time unzipping her dress. I could feel her getting impatient but I knew she liked the tease. If she only knew what she got herself into.

She took her arms out of her sleeves and shook her body so the dress fell off her. I turned her around, her back to the wall now, and spread her legs. She was observing my every move, curious what I was going to do next.

“Lift your arms.” I demanded and without questioning me they were above her head.

I wrapped my left hand around her wrists and pulled her underwear down with my right one. I unhooked her bra without hesitation. She was now standing in front of me, completely naked. I stuck my tongue down her throat while circling her nipple. She moaned in my mouth.

Oh, Rhylee, you haven’t felt anything yet.

I slowly moved my fingers down across her belly button, still kissing her. It didn’t really surprise me that the second my fingers ran past her clit, they drowned in her wetness. She gasped in my mouth as I started moving them in circles.

I let go of her arms now and she put them around my neck, trying to keep it together. I have to say she was doing a rather poor job.

“What is it?” I teased her when I started moving my fingers around faster and her eyes rolled back.

“Fuck…you.” She said between her moans.

“I’m a little busy focusing on you right now, Rhy.” I whispered to her.

She tried squeezing her legs together but I didn’t let her. I felt her getting tighter and I was determined not to stop until she screams from pleasure.

“Are you going to cum already?” I laughed playfully.

“I…I can’t hold it.” She cried.

“Oh, don’t hold back.” I bit the tip of her ear as her breathing got even faster.

She buried her fingers in my hair and kissed me. She was pressing hard against my lips, clutching my fingers with her soaked walls, muffling her moans with the kiss. It was pure euphoria, feeling her tremble. It brought me pleasure on another level.

“Stop.” She finally pulled herself together to talk.

“Are you sure?” I mocked her.

The look in her eyes was saying otherwise.

“It’s your turn.” She winked at me.

“Oh, I am not done with you.” I pressed her harder against the wall and placed a gentle kiss on her collar bone.

She winced, her body still sensitive to my touch.

She was speechless and her eyes were full of the wonder of what my next move will be.

“You begged me to fuck you. Don’t you know you have to think before you speak?”

I bit her neck. And her shoulder. And made a few circles with my tongue around her nipple, while playing with the other one with my finger. I kissed the scar that painted her belly. And just below the belly button. I got to my knees and spread her legs again.

I slowly ran my finger across her clit and she shivered.

“Are you ready to cum for me again?” She bit her lip and nodded in reply.

My fingers slipped back into her. This time I decided to take it more slowly. Let’s see how she likes it if I move my fingers in and out. Does that do anything?

She arched her back, scratching the wall behind her. And what if I do this?

I spread her legs just a bit more, lowered my head, and kissed her wet lips.

“Oh.” She let out a sigh.

I ran my tongue over her clit and started turning it in gentle circles. As she started breathing faster I doubled the pressure and felt her knees give in.

“Keep it together, Rhy.” I teased, my fingers still hard at work.

She grabbed my hair and pushed me back to continue my work.

“Fuck, Charlie.”

I don’t know if she was so horny or was I doing such a good job as it didn’t take her long to cum again. Her body was spasming more than before and this time she didn’t have my lips to stifle her moans. I loved how loud she was. How her pleasureful sounds filled my ears. It was like a drug.

I got up and wrapped my arms around her. She was a mess.

“Have enough yet?” I winked at her.

“No.” She giggled.

“Good.” I nodded.

I put my hands on her hips and lifted her and she automatically wrapped her legs around me. I gave her just enough space between our bodies that she unzipped my jeans and pulled them off.

She grabbed my dick, looking me straight in the eyes, and bit her lips when she placed it right in front of her juicy entrance. I don’t know what she was expecting as a surprised gasp left her mouth when I thrust in her.

She wrapped her arms around me and held tight to keep herself steady, moaning while I was rocking my hips back and forth.

Fuck, she felt good. This was insane. I knew that with all the adrenaline running through my veins, the alcohol left my head a long time ago but I still felt dizzy. I can’t believe it was even better than the last time.

I fantasized about sleeping with her more times than I would like to admit. I just couldn’t help it. She was the best I ever had. I could be myself around her. Somehow I knew exactly what she wanted and I wanted to give it to her. Badly.

I have to start thinking about something else. She felt too good and she was getting tighter again. I want to wreck her completely. I want her to forget her name and I want her to scream mine again.

“Charlie.” She moaned in my ear.

“Have enough of me yet?”

“Charlie.” She said louder.

“Yeah.”

“I…”

“What is it, sweetheart?” I placed a soft kiss on her neck as I started to move my hips even faster.

“I…”

“Come on, you can do it.” I encouraged her to speak.

I was too amused by how weak she was.

“Oh, my…” Her eyelids fluttered and I felt her squeezing me even more.

“Cum for me again.” I breathed.

I could watch her moan and twist from pleasure all night every night.

“Charlie, I can’t.” She finally managed to complete a full sentence.

I stopped moving my hips and froze.

“Are you okay?” I lifted her chin and made her look at me.

“Why the fuck did you stop?” Her eyes widened.

“You said you can’t, I thought…” I blinked at her.

I was so confused.

“I…” She bit her lip and looked away.

“What is it?” I tilted my head to find her eyes again.

“I never came three times before.” She mumbled so fast that I thought I heard her wrong.

“Oh.” I pressed my lips together, to stop them from spreading into a smile. “Well, do you think you could cum again?” I asked gently.

“Yes. I was close.” That naughty smile is going to be the death of me.

“Then let’s break your record, shall we?” I smirked at her and lifted her so she wrapped her legs around me again.

I entered her slowly this time and she pushed my hips more towards her immediately when she saw what I was doing.

“Don’t get slow on me now, Weasley.” She bit my lip and sent a new wave of adrenaline through my veins.

I decided to tease her just for saying that. I slowly pulled my hips back, so that only my tip was inside of her and then pushed my hips forward again with such a force that it took her breath away.

I did it again.

And again and again and again until she started screaming from pleasure again. For a second I thought she was going to pass out as her eyes sealed shut and she gasped for air between her moans. But I was determined not to stop until her body relaxes or she tells me to stop. She was doing neither.

She barely had the strength to wrap her hand around my neck so I could lift her when she stopped moaning. I took her to my bed and covered her.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her voice rusty from all the sounds she was making.

“I’m going to take a shower. You need some rest.” I winked at her.

“We need to take care of you first.” Her eyes moved from mine, down to my dick which was still hard.

“You can do that later. Now rest.” I placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

I walked out of the room, straight into the shower.

Just as the hot water started running down my body, I felt her press her body against mine from behind.

“Miss me already?” I turned around and smirked.

“I told you…” She kneeled. “We have to take care of you.”

She didn’t have a chance to say anything else as she grabbed my dick and put it in her mouth. Damn, she was good at sucking dick. It was unbelievable. I was the one with weak knees now. She was moving her mouth so fast as if she wanted to get revenge for before.

I wanted to watch her doing it. I wanted to see how she chokes on my dick but I couldn’t. It felt too good and I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling back and closing them. I buried my fingers into her wet hair and helped her move.

I loved how she enjoyed doing it. The way she was moaning and looking up at me. I can’t take it anymore. I let out a loud groan as I came, the water washing my load off her face.

“Now, I can rest.” She smirked and I helped her get up.

I turned her around, wrapped my arms around her and placed a kiss on her shoulder.

[rosemaidenvixen]

In the Fullness of Time

Chapter 4: Years Past

Ao3

Content warning: Classist language, Violation of bodily autonomy without knowledge or consent

Merlin swore as the carriage went over yet another bump.

“A thousand pardons Lord Merlin sir!” Galahad called from outside “Road’s a bit rough out this ways,”

Rough, that was a gentle way to put it. Was this an actual road or were they driving over a legion of troll remains? This was no way for a Master Wizard to travel, but where he was going his preferred forms of magical transportation would not be...well received “How much longer Galahad?”

Without warning the carriage jerked to a stop, Merlin letting out a whole string of curses as he was nearly thrown from his seat.

“We’ve arrived! Mind your boots, ground’s a touch muddy,”

“...Thank you for the warning,” Merlin grumbled, getting to his feet and opening the carriage door.

If anything Galahad had understated the conditions. The road, if one applied the term quite loosely, was nothing more than a coarse dirt track that went from the larger, more maintained road to their destination. Thoroughly churned by countless wagons and boots until it was a quagmire of mud and rubish, reaching ankle deep in places.

Merlin let out a sigh, resigned himself to the inevitable filth, and stepped down, grimacing as his boots sank into the muck. The small company of knights around him dismounted with a clatter of metal and leather. Galahad himself hopped off the front of the carriage and jogged up to face Merlin “What are your orders sir?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Merlin said while gracefully stepping around the knight “You and your men may stand down, I shall deal with this myself,”

Moving with surprising speed, Galahad ran forward and once again blocked his path “With all due respect, I cannot do that, the king’s orders are that all unregistered magic users be investigated by a company of trained knights, no exceptions,”

Merlin barely suppressed a grumble, it was rather impressive how Arthur managed to be both brilliant and a fool “Very well then, set up a perimeter around this…” he glanced warily at the buildings ahead of them “village...don’t want any surprises coming in or getting out,”

“Right on then,” Galahad turned towards the knights “You heard the man, spread out and surround the village! No surprises in or out,”

The knights all rushed to obey, Galahad joining them, as Merlin walked up the road straight into the thicket of buildings. He could have easily handled this by himself, no need for busybodies gumming up the works. But Arthur insisted on the knights’ presence to...what was it? Reassure the masses…

Merlin spared a glance at the people of the hamlet as he passed through. 

Men and women in clothes just as patchy and ragged as the buildings around them lined either side of his path. As soon as they noticed his presence they parted like all of the sea, ducking inside buildings and hurrying down alley ways. Some peeked at him out of cracked windows and doors while speaking to each other in hushed whispers. A precious few stood their ground, glaring openly at Merlin as he passed by, nearly drawing a laugh out of the Wizard. 

Ignorant rabble the lot of them. 

Fools who spent their lives with noses buried so deep in the dirt they couldn’t be bothered to look up at the stars.

There had been a time in his youth that he longed to teach people like these. To use his powers to help those that lacked the tools to help themselves. To bring enlightenment to those that clung stubbornly to the dark.

Had he ever really been that young?

Merlin shook his head to dispel the daydreams. 

More likely than not this so-called sorcerer was someone that happened to swear right as a pitcher of milk was falling to the floor. Soon enough Merlin could clear this all up and be on his way. As it was all he wanted was to get back to Camelot and have his boots cleaned to a polish. 

A space opened up in front of him as he reached the heart of the village, Merlin paused and glanced around. Most decent sized settlements surrounding Camelot had a central building of sorts, usually used for storage and official gatherings. Even smaller communities had squares that served much of the same purpose.

This town, if it was large enough to truly be considered that, had neither of those things. The only sort of central feature present was a modest stone well, which a large crowd was gathered around.

“--which is why we need to burn him!” a woman’s voice screeched “We cannot tolerate this evil blight in our midst!”

“And anger the demons who made him? Are you mad!? No, we have to sink him in the bog, give him back to his own,” 

“I’m not touching him! You know what Fae do to those who mess with them and theirs, best to wait for the king’s men to come, let them deal with--”

“We’re wasting time! Just give me a barrel and a cartful of peat and I’ll do the job myself!”

Merlin cleared his throat softly, just loud enough to make the gathered crowd turn in his direction. Upon sighting him nearly every one of them gasped and staggered back in alarm. Only three held their ground, two men and a woman, the one who so fiercely advocated for burning if he remembered right.

He allowed his face to mold into the placating smile he so often used when discussing magic with those who hadn’t the slightest idea how it worked “Good morrow to you folk, I am Merlin Ambrosius, here on behalf of the king. Now I understand you’ve been having trouble with a sorcerer?”

One of the men, the one in charge if his slightly cleaner coat and trousers were anything to go by, stepped forward and stammered out a response “Y-- yes, we have him locked up for now, but there’s no telling what kind of curses he’s brewing,”

Even with all of Merlin’s considerable patience, he was barely able to keep from rolling his eyes. These simpletons wouldn’t know a curse if he conjured one up right in front of them.

Well time to go clear this up and let the village goat herd or whoever it was out of wherever they’d penned him up “I promise you have nothing to fear, a squadron of the king’s best knights are here with me and they will allow no harm to befall you. Now take me to this sorcerer of yours and I will deal with him myself,”

The crowd visibly relaxed at his words; or more precisely, upon learning of the knights’ presence, the village headman slowly nodding at him “Follow me then,”

Merlin allowed himself to be lead to the far side of the village, with the rest of the group trailing behind. No doubt curious about his powers as much as they feared and despised them. The headman stopped at the edge of the buildings, pointing into the trees beyond “He’s in there,”

A cave barred with a wooden door was built into a hill a short distance away from the village proper. A space no doubt ordinarily used for storage now converted to a makeshift prison cell.

The headman twisted his cap in his hands “So...how long will it take you to--”

“That will be enough,” Merlin waved him off “I’ll take care of everything from here on out,”

The headman swallowed hard but still stepped aside to let Merlin pass, striding towards the cave. None of the villagers followed him, of course not that he expected any of them to.

Reaching the cave door, he opened it a crack and poked his head in. It was too dark to see the contents of the cave, the light of the open door doing little to penetrate the gloom.

“Hello?” Merlin called into the dark cave “Anyone in here?”

No reply from within the cave was forthcoming. Merlin remained standing in the doorframe in silence for a few moments. 

His patience was rewarded when a soft sniffle broke through the silence.

Merlin blinked in surprise. Well that was...unexpected.

He opened the door all the way, banishing some, but not all of the shadows. Allowing for his eyes to adjust just enough to see a small figure huddled in the far corner of the cave.

A child, dark haired, a boy by the looks of it, sat curled up on the floor of the cave. And by the look of how dirty and disheveled he was, he had been in here for some time. Clear tracks ran down his cheeks from where tears had cut through the dust. The child wasn’t crying at the moment, though whether that was due to exhaustion or dehydration remained to be seen.

Merlin strode over, slowly as not to startle him, and got down on one knee a few feet in front of the boy “Hello there,”

The child said nothing but followed him with his eyes, clearly trying to gauge how much of a threat the Wizard was.

Merlin gave his best, non-threatening, smile “Let’s lighten things up a bit, shall we?” he held out his palm, and with the barest breath of effort a green witchlight flared to life there before floating up to the cave ceiling, filling the small space with emerald light. 

A parlor trick by his standards, but it served as a good example to those not versed in the subtleties of Wizardry.

The child lifted his head to stare at the witchlight as it ascended to the roof of the cave, mouth open and eyes large with wonder.

“Now tell me young one…”

Aware he was being addressed, the child tore his gaze away from the ceiling to stare back at the Wizard, wariness coming off of him in palatable waves.

“Can you do anything like that?”

Merlin expected the child to shake his head, or at the most mumble a soft no. So it came as no small shock when the child raised his own tiny palm and stared at it with furrowed intensity.

His astonishment was even greater when cerulean sparks flared to life in the boy’s hand.

They flickered for a few seconds before going out, the boy letting out a small puff of exhaustion as they did.

This was no charlatan or victim of coincidence, this boy had actual power. And for someone of his age to even attempt to mimic a spell after only seeing it performed in front of him once…

This boy had potential.

And Merlin would be damned if he let such potential waste away in a dank cave.

Merlin got down on both knees “What is your name young one?”

“Hi-- Hisirdoux,”

“Well then Hisirdoux, what do you say we go outside and discuss things further?”

“I...I can’t…”

“Of course you can, others may not like what you can do but if I say you can leave no one will stop you,”

“But…” Hisirdoux raised one of his arms ever so slightly, a soft clink of metal accompanying the action.

A sound no louder than a cricket’s chirp, deafening to Merlin’s ears.

“Boy, show me your hands,”

Hisirdoux complied, stretching both arms out in front of him, allowing Merlin to see crude iron shackles wrapped around his wrists, sloppily fastened to heavy chains bolted into the cave wall.

Merlin had been millenia old even before Camelot was founded. He’d watched empires rise and crumble. And he’d seen every manner of cruelty that humans could inflict on each other. By now there was no atrocity that was capable of shocking him.

This however, gave him pause.

“Hold still Hisirdoux, let me get those off you,”

Merlin moved closer, raising a hand over Hisirdoux’s wrists, gently probing into the shackles with his magic. 

Elemental iron was the antithesis to magic and could impede it in any form, from raw ore to rusty nails, but it’s true power of binding lay in its shaping. Molding the earth and bending it your will, ingenuity triumphing over the unknown. And a clever and experienced Wizard such as himself could see through the patterns of iron’s construction and unravel it.

It was not difficult, these shackles were especially crude. Hastily hammered together from materials never intended to bind. Probably why Hisirdoux was still able to manifest some power. So it only took a minute, then a flick of his fingers and the shackles fell to the ground.

However the damage had been done.

Hisirdoux whimpered, gently poking at one of the angry red burn marks with a wince. 

Merlin laid both hands over the boy’s wrists.

“Sana et integro,”

Bands of green light bloomed to life and wrapped around the burn marks, slowly fading as they sank into the skin, taking some of the bright redness with it. It wouldn’t heal Hisirdoux completely, but it should end his pain for now.

However he would carry the scars with him for the rest of his life.

Had his neighbors known how badly the iron would injure him, a young child fresh into his magic, or had they merely been concerned with sealing his power away at any cost?

The real question was if any of them bloody cared.

“Better?”

Hisirdoux nodded with a sniffle.

“Good,” Merlin reached over and gently cupped his chin, the boy flinching at the contact, tilting his head up to look him in the eye “Hisirdoux, what I can do and what you can do is called magic, the ability to channel the arcane energies of the universe to bend them to your will,”

Hisirdoux said nothing, merely stared up at him with wide, but not frightened, eyes.

“You are capable of so much more than you know, and if you become my apprentice, I can teach you how to wield your powers to their fullest potential,”

“B...but I don’t want to be an apprentice, I want to stay here with mother and father,”

Merlin held back a sigh of disappointment. Hisirdoux might not have realized it yet, but he had no home here, not anymore. No matter, that truth would make itself known soon enough, the only thing to do was get it over with as quickly as possible. no reason for Merlin to prolong the inevitable.

“Very well then,” Merlin stood and extended his hand “I will take you to them,”

Even though he was far from being moved by such things, sentimentality being something he’d abandoned centuries ago, seeing the flash of hope on Hisirdoux’s face and knowing how unfounded it was hardly felt pleasant.

Hisirdoux reached up, tiny fingers grasping his own, and pulled himself to his feet. Following along as Merlin stepped out of the cave, wincing as they stepped into the bright sunlight.

How many days has his parents sat back and allowed him to be locked away in the dark?

Merlin wasn’t overly fond of the sensation of the tiny, grubby fingers grasping his own, but it was the best way to keep Hisirdoux from running off. If their talk of burning earlier hadn’t convinced him, seeing Hisirdoux’s condition in the cave cinched it. 

The boy was not safe here.

And sure enough, as they approached the village, Hisirdoux brightened, and started to pull away “Mother! Father!”

Merlin kept his grip on Hisirdoux’s hand firm, not letting go as they stepped up to the gathered villagers, despite the boy’s attempts to pull away. Steeling his expression when he saw the mother and father Hisirdoux was looking at.

Hopefully Hisirdoux never had to learn that his mother wanted to burn him alive.

The tell-tale clatter of plate armor came up from beside him, and Merlin turned to see Galahad rapidly approaching. 

“How goes it finding the unregistered sorcerer, any luck?”

Merlin paused and greeted the knight with a nod, ignoring Hisirdoux’s attempts to break free and run to his parents “As a matter of fact I have, he right here,”

“Where? All I see is some waifish…..” Galahad trailed off, eyes going wide from behind his bushy brows.

Good to see Merlin wasn’t the only one appalled at how these villagers had treated their ‘sorcerer’. 

And speaking of a crowd was starting to form around them, drawn by Merlin’s appearance and Hisirdoux’s shouts. 

Merlin straightened to his full height and squared his shoulders.

Time to reset the wound as quickly as possible.

“False alarm everyone,” he gestured towards the squirming Hisirdoux with one hand while looking around at the gathered villagers “This boy does have magic, but he is of no threat to you, you can all go back to your ordinary lives,”

Hisirdoux strained as he continued to try and escape Merlin’s grip and run to his parents “Mother! Mother! I can come home now!”

The mother in question stepped up close and glowered down at him, expression hard enough that it caused Hisirdoux’s brightness to dim “That’s not my boy, not any longer, that child is tainted by darkness, he has no place in my house or in this village,”

No one else around them spoke up, either in agreement or objection, although based on the looks on their faces they hardly disagreed.

Hisirdoux froze, expression beginning to crumple “But moth--”

“Don’t you dare!” the woman shrieked, the sheer venom dripping from her voice enough to cause Hisirdoux, some of the villagers around her, and even Galahad to recoil “Don’t you dare address me as your mother! You’re a curse, a demon, you dare to call yourself our child, deceiving us and hiding your true nature so you can bring ruin to us all--”

“Beloved enough,” the man next to her put an arm around her waist and gently pulled her back “I know this is a trying time for you, but you must not lose yourself in such wrathful displays,”

He put both hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye “Our child may be tainted by Fae magics, but all is not lost, soon the evil will be gone. And there will be more children between us,”

She sighed, slumping in his grip “You are right, soon our village will be godly once more, and we will have more children to replace the one we lost,”

Hisirdoux had gone completely still, staring up at his parents with an utterly horrified, heartbroken expression. 

His father turned back towards Merlin “My wife speaks true, that’s no son of mine, either you take care of him or we’ll do it ourselves,”

An unfortunate but not unexpected response “Very well then,” he gave a gentle tug on the fingers still clasped in his “Hisirdoux?”

The boy looked up at him, eyes brimming. 

“My offer still stands, do you wish to become my apprentice?”

He gave a terse nod, tiny faced pinched in the effort to hold back tears.

“Then let us go and--”

“Hang on,” Hisirdoux’s father cut in “You can’t just carry my son off,”

Merlin raised an eyebrow “I thought you said he was no son of yours?”

The man flushed but held his ground “I sired him, raised him, and fed him. Can’t just let anyone go carrying him off with nothing to show for it,”

The sheer audacity of this man stopped Merlin in his tracks “How are you to demand such a thing when you’ve made it quite clear you’re not interested in taking him back?”

A triumphant glint entered the man’s eyes “You seem fairly interested in him, wouldn’t want to leave him and have something happen now would you?”

Merlin’s expression darkened, disgust he’d thought himself long past feeling slowly trickling into his chest. He’d seen poor reactions to people discovering their child was touched by magic many times before, this was far from the first time Merlin had witnessed parents proclaim their child dead while they stood living before their eyes. But never in all his centuries had he witnessed any cling so greedily to the corpse “You presume much if you think you can command me to--”

“It’s not as though you can just carry him off,” the the man said, unnervingly calm “The king wouldn’t be happy to hear of his Master Wizard carrying off children from their parents. So you can either pay my price or I’ll find someone who will,” 

Around him the other villagers, his wife included, were murmuring in agreement. Mentions of prices or even other options should Merlin prove unwilling to pay floating up in hushed bits of conversation.

Hisirdoux glanced back and forth between the two men. As young as he was he couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of the situation surrounding him. But he clearly understood something, some base instinct informing him of the peril he was in, that he stood at the crossroads of danger and safety. His tiny fingers gripping Merlin’s hand with all the feeble strength he could muster. 

The disgust filling him deepened into a rage the likes of which he hadn’t felt in decades. Merlin had to make an effort not to shatter Hisirdoux’s fingers in his grip. From off to the side he could see Galahad watching the entire exchange with his jaw hanging open.

These people, who owned little more than the clothes on their backs, had been blessed with a child with immense magical potential, who possessed the power to potentially build their hamlet up to a kingdom in its own right, and this was how they treated him? They didn’t even afford him the dignity that they would a rat or a wolf, to them Hisirdoux was merely property. Blighted property that they had no desire to keep, but every right to sell to the highest bidder.

These fools had done what in a single afternoon what beings far greater than them had spent years trying and failing to accomplish.

They had made Merlin angry.

He let out a sigh and hung his head “Very well, name your price,”

The man grinned victoriously “Eighty pounds and not a pence less,”

“Fine,” Merlin said coldly.

The man blinked, clearly expecting some haggling involved.

“Galahad,” 

The knight jerked towards him, startled out of his stupefied state.

“Write up a contract stating that these two,” he inclined his head towards the couple in front of him “Are to receive eighty pounds in exchange for signing over their son to be a ward of the crown,”

Galahad nodded slowly, pulling open his bag of parchment and official seals “I’ll get right on that,” he glanced down at Hisirdoux, tears now openly rolling down his small face “How about you two go ahead and wait in the carriage, I won’t be but a minute,”

Merlin nodded, turning and tugging Hisirdoux after him as he headed away from the village and back towards the awaiting carriage.

He waited until Galahad and the crowd of villagers were far out of earshot before starting the chant. Hisirdoux could no doubt hear him, but he would neither remember the words or understand their significance.

Merlin preferred not to use blood magic, both due to the impracticality and the immense risk, but today he would make an exception.

Hisirdoux’s parents, with a complete lack of understanding of magic and how it functions, had declared their child tainted and cut him out of their hearts and community. Deciding to either sell him to offset their so-called loss or kill him and be done with it.

Well if that was the way they treated their firstborn child, Merlin would ensure that there would be no more children after Hisirdoux, for either of them.

From now until their dying days Hisirdoux’s parents would never again bear children, neither with each other nor any other partner.

The words felt cold and slimy falling from his lips, the magic they invoked soft and subtle. Slowly creeping into the bodies of Hisirdoux’s mother and father, altering them just enough to accomplish his goal.

Of course the blood magic curse would only affect those two, the rest of the village, the ones who had been complicit at best and gleeful participants at worst, would not share its effects.

But they would see Hisirdoux’s parents, see what the curse did to them without ever knowing the cause for certain. And they would wonder, and they would be afraid. 

He completed his curse just as the carriage and the rest of the knights came into view, falling silent as he stepped up to them, from far behind he could feel the last traces of magic settle into place and the curse take hold.

Merlin helped Hisirdoux climb the steps into the carriage, from behind him he heard Galahad come up and call to the rest of the knights.

“Alright we’re burning daylight, let’s get a move on!”

A quick glance to the west revealed just how right Galahad was, the sun was now far lower in the sky and they needed to hurry if they wanted to make it to safety before the darkness came and brought trolls with it. Moving swiftly, he stepped into the carriage and shut the door behind him, lifting Hisirdoux up onto the seat and sitting himself beside him just as the carriage pulled to a start.

Hisirdoux remained silent the whole while, had been ever since he’d heard what his parents truly thought of him, eyes locked on the small window, watching the village that had been his home slowly fade into the distance. 

“Hisirdoux,” Merlin spoke softly “I know you must be dealing with quite a lot right now, but you need to understand that there is nothing inherently wrong with your abilities. They are a tool like a sword or a hammer that can be used for good or for ill. They are not evil or corrupt they simply are,” 

The boy refused to look directly at him, eyes bright and lip trembling.

“How your village reacted to your abilities isn’t a reflection of your faults, but of theirs,”

Hisirdoux didn’t react aside from a sniffle, small shoulders starting to shake.

Years from now Hisirdoux would look back on this day as nothing more than a faded scar, a memory of a wound long since healed. But the future was far away, and today the wound was still fresh and raw. Merlin had said and done all he could for now; some wounds could only be healed with time. 

Settling back in his seat, Merlin turned to glance out his own window, prepared to spend the rest of the trip in silence.

Without warning something abruptly pressed into his side.

Startled, Merlin glanced sharply down, only to see Hisirdoux clinging to his torso, openly sobbing against him.

The sight was so baffling that Merlin didn’t know how to react. 

What on earth did this boy think he was doing? Merlin was a Master Wizard, not some nursemaid Hisirdoux could cling to whenever he wished. Merlin’s duty as his master was to instruct him in the ways of magic and that was it, he’d hire a nanny for everything else. If Hisirdoux was going to be his apprentice the boy needed to bloody well learn the difference between the two straight away.

He raised a hand to push Hisirdoux away, but paused just before it could touch him. Keeping it poised in the air for a few seconds, Hisirdoux’s weak sobs echoing in the small carriage, before dropping it with a sigh. Lowing his hand to softly pat Hisirdoux’s back instead.

Perhaps some indulgence was in order, the boy had just been cast out of his home and family. Granted it didn’t look like either of those had been worth very much, but still they were all that he had ever known.

This couldn’t be a regular occurrence, as soon as they got to Camelot Merlin would arrange for a proper nanny to handle caring for Hisirdoux. As master and apprentice, Merlin was responsible for Hisirdoux’s education and nothing else. But just for today, he would make an exception.

As their journey went on, the carriage rocking along as it carried them down the rugged road, Hisirdoux’s sobs gradually softened into sniffles, Merlin rubbing his back all the while, eventually he quieted altogether, though still remaining curled up against Merlin’s side.

“Hisirdoux?” Merlin said quietly.

No response.

He glanced down, glimpsing shut eyes and a slack face, a soft snore escaping him.

For a moment Merlin just stared incredulously. 

The child had fallen asleep on him, of all the impertinent-- good lord what if he started drooling on him?

Merlin briefly considered trying to move him, before settling back in resignation. If he tried to move the boy chances are he would wake up, and after being locked away for days with hardly any food or water and his wrists wrapped in iron...Hisirdoux needed a good rest.

And while Merlin wasn’t smitten with the idea of being drooled on, at least while he was sleeping Hisirdoux would be quiet and out of the way.

Tilting forward as much as he could without disturbing the sleeping child, Merlin peeked out his window, and again out the opposite one. Seeing no knights riding near enough to see inside, he swiftly snapped his fingers. A blanket on the opposite seat becoming sheathed in green light, leaping over and tucking itself securely around Hisirdoux’s sleeping form, the light around it vanishing just as quickly as it appeared

Satisfied that the deed had gone unwitnessed, Merlin leaned back and gave Hisirdoux one more soft pat on the back as the carriage continued on down the road.

[witchyintention]

10 Witches Of World Mythology

Witches and witchcraft have captivated the minds of everyone: from angry villagers wondering why the women of the town were gaining a sense of independence to the average Joe wondering whether that herbal tea last night was a potion or just really bad tea. Witches have been seen as objects of wisdom and evil in folklore for many generations.

10. Kikimora

The kikimora, whose name is extremely fun to pronounce, is a household spirit who must—above all—be respected. She is the female equivalent and wife to the domovoi, or male household spirit, and her presence is always made known by wet footprints. So what makes the kikimora a witch you don’t want to cross? Well, she’s somewhat harmless, but if she is disrespected, she will whistle, break dishes, and throw things around. Unless you like all of your things broken, you’d best stay on her good side.

9. Circe

A famous character in Homer’s Odyssey, Circe was a witch who lived on an island called Aeaea. She took up a rather peculiar hobby—she would turn passing sailors into wolves and lions and all sorts of animals after drugging them. Hey, some people collect stamps, others like turning men into animals. Who are we to judge?

When Odysseus visited Aeaea, Circe turned his men into swine, but Odysseus was given a magical plant by the gods that prevented Circe from morphing him. After making Circe swear not to betray him, Odysseus and his men lived under Circe’s protection for a year before attempting to sail back to Ithaca.

8. Morgan Le Fay

Most people are vaguely familiar with the legend of King Arthur and his companion the wizard Merlin, but few of us remember a character by the name of Morgan Le Fay. In the myths, she works tirelessly with her magic to bring down the good Queen Guinevere, who banished her from the court when she was younger. She tries to betray Guinevere’s lover, Sir Lancelot, and foil the quests of King Arthur’s knights. The ultimate fate of Morgan is unknown, but she does eventually reconcile with King Arthur and brings him to Avalon after his final battle.

7. The Witch of Endor

The Witch of Endor wasn’t necessarily malevolent, but the fate she spoke of was not one to be ignored. As the story goes, King Saul went to the Witch of Endor for answers about how to defeat the Philistines. The Witch then summoned the ghost of the prophet Samuel—who didn’t tell him how to defeat the Philistines—but prophesied that he would be defeated and join his three sons in the afterlife. Saul, who is wounded the next day in the battle, kills himself out of fear. And while the Witch didn’t technically make Saul kill himself, she was certainly an accessory.

6. Jenny Greenteeth

Depending on where in England you’re from, you may know this cruel hag as Ginny, Jinny, Jeannie, or Wicked Jenny. Jenny Greenteeth was a hag who would intentionally drown the young and the old for the sheer fun of it. In some legends, she devours the children and elderly. In others, she’s just a sadist who enjoys the pain her victims go through. She’s frequently described as having a green complexion and razor-sharp teeth. As with many creepy characters from folklore, she was probably used to scare children into behaving and staying close to the water’s edge when taking an afternoon swim. But the main moral to this story is this: stay away from green river hags.

5. Chedipe

Ah, the Chedipe. What art thou: a witch, a vampire, what? Either way, she’s no pretty dame in the moonlight. The Chedipe is a woman has died during childbirth or committed suicide and is to the Indian equivalent of the succubus. She rides on a tiger in the moonlight, and when she enters a home, not a soul will wake or notice her. She then sucks the life out of each man through the toes—yes, the toes—and leaves without a trace.

4. The Weird Sisters

Shakespeare’s Macbeth is one of the Bard’s defining plays, with brilliant characters galore and a story rife with magic, betrayal, and fear. But the very first characters in the story are the ones that set everything in motion—the Weird Sisters. And yes, they are more than a little weird, but in this case “weird” means “fate,” so they are the Sisters of Fate. They act as agents of destruction and not only send Macbeth into a spiral of corruption and paranoia, they send all of Scotland to war just to take one man out of power. Now that’s evil.

3. The Bell Witch

The Bell Witch is the most famous witch in American folklore, and her story is the kind that you’d tell around a campfire. The Bell Witch was supposedly a poltergeist that appeared in the home of John Bell, Sr. in 1817. The Bell Witch would attack members of the household and frequently swear at the family, and she eventually poisoned John Bell, Sr. by leaving a bottle of poison in the guise of medicine. Remind us to burn some sage tonight.

2. Hecate

Hecate was the Greek goddess of witchcraft. She was also the goddess of witches, sorcery, poisonous plants, and a host of other witchy attributes. Hecate was the daughter of the titan Perses, and she is still worshipped by some Greek polytheists today. It is said that the very concept of a jinx came from her, and shrines to her were raised to prevent the wrath of evil demons and spirits in the Greek mythos. One of her names—Chthonia—means “of the underworld.”

So what makes her so fearsome? Well, she’s the goddess of witchcraft. If she existed, she probably wouldn’t take too kindly to Europe’s (or Salem, Massachusetts’s) ancient habit of hating and burning/killing “witches” (who were likely just the unfortunate innocent). The fact that we’ve turned witches from fearsome wise-women who could inflict pain and healing into beautiful, televised women who use magic to cheat on their exams would probably irk her slightly.

1. The Graeae/Morai

So what witches do we conclude our list with? Why the very spinners of fate, of course. The Graeae and the Morai are two separate trios of witches who understand the whims of fate, but since they are often lumped together we’ll mention them both. The Morai spun the loom of fate, and everyone’s fate was tied to their loom, even those of non-mortals.

The Graeae, on the other hand, were three malevolent sisters—kin to the Gorgons (Medusa and her two lesser-known sisters). The Graeae were not the friendliest bunch, but they did share an eye, which they passed between themselves. The Graeae also had knowledge of the unknown and of fate, but they did not control it. So which is worse—sisters to Medusa or those who could snip your string of life? We’d steer clear of both of them if we were you, dear reader.

[jadelotusflower]

July 2021 Roundup

Discussed this month: The Once and Future King, The Good People, The Secret of Kells/Wolfwalkers/Song of the Sea (aka "Irish Folklore" Trilogy), The Matrix Trilogy, the John Wick Trilogy, Space Jam: A New Legacy

Reading

The Once and Future King (T.H. White) - I've actually read this before, but it was a long time ago and I remembered very little of it so it seemed time for a revisit. Written between 1936 and 1942, this is a surprisingly meta retelling of Arthur and Camelot, very obviously and heavily influenced by WWII, with much academic pondering on the concept of humanity and war and ongoing conflict against Might=Right - looking to the past to try and understand the present. Some familiarity with the legends is assumed, White occasionally making reference to Malory, and there is a strange anachronistic feel - Merlin lives time backwards and talks of Hitler and other 20th Century references, White frequently refers to Old England and the way things were "back then", but also calls Arthur's country Gramarye, the narrative taking place an a kind of alternate history/mythology where Uther was the Norman conqueror of 1066, and yet reference is also made to the Plantagenet kings.

Comprising five volumes (the first four published separately at the time, and the final posthumously), it struck me on this read how each of the first four are structured around the childhood of a major player -Arthur (The Sword in the Stone), Gawain and his brothers (The Witch in the Wood), Lancelot (The Ill-Made Knight), and Mordred (The Candle in the Wind), and how their upbringing played a part in the inevitable tragedy of Camelot. In the final volume, The Book of Merlyn, it comes full circle as Arthur on the eve of his death is taken to revisit the animals of his childhood for much philosophising (at one point Merlyn argues at length with a badger about Karl Marx and communism.)

The Sword in the Stone is the most engaging, with young Arthur (known as "the Wart") and his tutelage under Merlin, being turned into various animals like an ant, a goose, and a hawk to learn about each of their societies (political allegories), and meeting with Robin Wood (Hood) and Maid Marian to battle Morgan le Fay, and the climactic pulling of the sword from the stone. This was of course the source material for the Disney film, although missing the wizards duel with Madam Mim (appearing in the original publication, but removed for the revised version).

The Ill-Made Knight is the longest volume and was honestly a slog to get through, because honestly Lancelot is pretty dull/terrible, and the Lancelot/Guenever love affair less than compelling. Ultimately it's Lancelot's hubris that dooms them - he is warned that Mordred intends to catch him out in Guenever's room, but he goes anyway, and doesn't leave when he tells her to, because he is stupid.

It’s no surprise that the female characters are given the short shrift, but there’s an uncomfortable vein of misogyny running through the book. To wit:

Elaine had done the ungraceful thing as usual. Guenever, in similar circumstances, would have been sure to grow pale and interesting - but Elaine had only grown plump.

And then later:

Guenever had overdressed for the occasion. She had put on makeup which she did not need, and put it on badly. She was forty-two.

Morgause (the eponymous witch in the wood/queen of air and darkness) is a negligent mother whose sole motivation is revenge, Elaine rapes Lancelot by deception, Guenever is hypocritical and shrill (but achieves a sliver of nuance in Candle), Nimueh is a nonentity, and Morgan le Fey is a monstrous fairy. If only White had turned his academic pondering inward and in order to examine the role of women in his worldview other than as damsels or instigators.

But Arthur also gets the short shrift - after all the focus in his childhood, he becomes almost a peripheral figure in the rest of the story until the very end, and we're not actually given much to show why he is the once and future king, other than that he tries to institute a slightly less brutal system.

Ultimately, White is more interested in philosophy than character, and so Camelot's inevitable tragedy feels more clinical than visceral.

The Good People (Hannah Kent) - If the Irish Folklore Trilogy (discussed below) is the beauty and wonder of Irish myths and legends interacting with the human world, this book is the cold danger of superstition and the devastating affect of folklore used as an explanation for life's ills. Set in 1820's rural Ireland, Nora is widowed and left with the care of her young disabled grandson Michael, believed to be a changeling. The local wise woman Nance, who feels the touch of "the good people" sets about to drive out the fairy from the child, believing that the "real" Michael will return, much to the growing dread of Mary, the teenage girl Nora has hired to care for him.

Here fairies are seen as a malevolent force, "sweeping" away women and children, causing bad harvests, and bringing death to the village - to be respected and feared. And then there's Nance, bartering traditional cures for ailments and troubles - some work, some do not, and some pose great danger. On the other hand, this is a remote village where a doctor must be fetched from Killarney, and only one priest who is less than charitable. Neither provide any help or support to Nora.

SPOILERS It's an upsetting read dealing with dark subject matter - grief trauma, child abuse and accidental infanticide, a kind of slow burn horror. If it takes a village to to raise a child, it also takes one to kill a child, as mounting fear and superstition moves through the population like a contagion, heightening Nora's desperation for the "return" of her grandson, and Nance's to prove her knowledge. It's an impeccably researched novel (based in part on a true event) but very unsettling - poor Michael is never really given humanity, and I feel this book would be hugely triggering in its depiction of disability and neurodivergence.

Watching

The Secret of Kells/Song of the Sea/Wolfwalkers (dir. Tom Moore) - I've been meaning to watch these films for absolutely ages, and I finally got to them this month. I’m pleased to say that the many people who recommended them to me were absolutely correct, because they appear to have been made to specifically cater to my interests. Some mild spoilers ahead.

I watched these in internal chronological order as suggested by @ravenya003, starting with The Secret of Kells, set in 9th Century Ireland where the young monk Brendan helps illuminate the to-be famous manuscript and befriends a forest sprite Aisling, under the threat of a Viking raid. Next was Wolfwalkers, jumping forward to 1650 Kilkenny where the English girl Robyn, daughter of a hunter, is drawn into the world of the forest and Mebh, who turns into a wolf when she sleeps. And finally we go all the way to 1980's in Song of the Sea for the story of Ben, who must help his younger sister Saoirse (a selkie) find her voice and bring back the faeries who have been turned to stone by the owl witch Macha.

Although the stories are completely separate, they've been described as Moore's "Irish Folklore" trilogy, and it’s easy to read a through line from Kells to Wolfwalkers in particular - both deal with fae of the forest, and Aisling appears as a white wolf at the end of the film (having lost her ability to appear in human form). I like to think that Aisling is in some way the progenitor of the wolfwalkers - after all, Kells and Kilkenny are less than 200 kms apart.

Song of the Sea is distant from the other two in both time and subject matter, dealing with selkies, creatures of the water. In many ways, Kells and Wolfwalkers feels like a duology, with Song more its own thing. On the other hand, an argument could be made for common fae spirit/s in different forms across all three films - Aisling is a white sprite, Robyn takes the form of a white/grey wolf, and Saoirse a white seal.

The strength of these films other than the folklore is the visual style - I really love 2D animation, and while I appreciate the beauty of cg animation, I often find in the latter’s focus on hyper-realism the artistry can be left by the wayside. These films not just aesthetically beautiful, but the art is used to tell the story - from the sharp angles that represent the darker or harmful elements (Crom, Vikings, the Town), to the circles and rings that represent safety and harmony (the Abbey, the forest, Mebh and her mother/the wolves healing circle, the holy well). The exception is probably the home of Macha, the owl witch, where circles are also prominent and represent magic, and this is often the case in folklore (fairy rings, fairy forts, etc).

Kells is the most stylised, resembling tapestries or pages and triptychs from medieval manuscripts, playing with perspective. I actually saw pages from the real Book of Kells years ago in Dublin, and remember them being very beautiful. We only get glimpses of the Book and the stunning Chi Rho page at the very end of the film, but the style of art is present throughout the film and particularly in the forest where Brendan finds inspiration for his illumination, and on the flipside his encounter in the dark with Crom Cruach, represented as a chalk-drawn primordial serpent.

This style is also present in Wolfwalkers, particularly stark in the way the birds-eye grid of the town often looms over Robyn in the background and in her work at the castle. The depiction of the forest has more of a storybook quality however, as does Song, where almost every frame resembles a painting, particularly the sequences of Saoirse's selkie trip through the sea and Ben's fall through the holy well.

Rav points out in her review that there is the ebbing away of myth and magic in each successive film, contrasted with the rise of Christianity/modernity. But there's circles and rings again, because while the ultimate power of the faerie world is fading away, the interaction between our human protagonists and faerie actually increases with each film. In Kells, we have only Aisling and Crom, in Wolkwalkers, we have Mebh and her mother whose ranks grow to include Robyn and her father, and finally in Song we have Saoirse, Bronagh, Macha, the Na Daoine Sídhe, and the Great Seanachaí.

Watching in the order I did, it does give the impression of the mythological world opening up to the viewer, gaining a deeper understanding and exposure as time progressed. On the other hand, that is also because the human world is gradually encroaching on the world of Faerie, from isolated settlements like the Abbey of Kells, to growing town of Kilkenny and the logging of the surrounding forest, to a modern Ireland of motorways and power lines, and industrialised Dublin where the remaining fairies have moved underground. It makes the climax of Song, with the fairies restored but returning to the land of Tír na nÓg, rather bittersweet.

I also credit the strength of the voice acting - the adult roles are minor but with greats including the dulcet tones of Brendan Gleeson and Sean Bean, and the ethereal Maria Doyle Kennedy (who I wish had gotten to do more). But the child roles are all performed so well, particularly Honor Kneafsey as Robyn, whose growing desperation and distress is just heartbreakingly palpable.

The Matrix Trilogy (dir. The Wachowskis) - I usually don't post rewatches in the Roundup, but I really, really love these movies. I will never forget seeing The Matrix at the cinema as a young teen, knowing nothing other than the tease of the enigmatic trailers, and just being completely blown away by it, and then becoming completely obsessed a few years later in the leadup to Reloaded.

It wasn’t my first fandom, but it was probably the first time I took fandom seriously. I was very invested in Neo/Trinity in particular as well as all the mythological/literary references that fed directly into my interests. I haven’t however gone back and read the fic I wrote, for fear that it is very, very cringe. I know where is is though, so maybe one day before the ff.net is purged.

This is Keanu Reeves at his most handsome, and while he doesn't have the greatest range (as many actors don't, although they don't get as much grief for it), when he's in the zone there's no one else who could do it better. He just has a Presence, you know? A vibe, and it compels me.

This is particularly present in Neo, a character whose conflict is almost entirely internal, burdened by the weight of his responsibility and destiny, both before and after he learns it is a false prophesy. He’s not your typical quippy macho action hero, but much like my other fave Luke Skywalker, is a character who is ultimately driven by love and self-sacrifice. I definitely have a Type of male hero I adore, and Neo fits right in there.

I also really love the sequels, flaws and all, because you know what, the Wachowskis had Ideas and they weren't going to deliver Matrix 2: Electric Boogaloo. Each film goes in an unexpected direction, and not in a subverted expectations ha ha silly rabbits way, but one that does have an internal logic and pulls together a cohesive trilogy as a whole, and how often does that happen these days?

The sequels are so…earnest, with none of the cynical cool detachment perhaps some would have preferred - at its core a trilogy exploring philosophy and the nature of prophesy vs choice, determinism vs free will, and the power of love. Maybe it can be hokey, and some of the dialogue a bit overwritten, but I don't care, there's so much I still enjoy even having seen the trilogy many times over the years.

Not to mention the great female characters - while I'm not sure any of the three strictly passes the Bechdel Test, we have Trinity and Niobe in particular who I love with all my heart. It does kind of annoy me that the Trinity Syndrome is so named, because it only applies in the most reductive reading possible, and Trinity expresses agency (and badassery) every step of the way, saving Neo just as much as he saves her. I mean..."dodge this"/"in five minutes I'll tear that whole goddamn building down"/"believe it"? Niobe piloting the Hammer through the mechanical line in Revolutions? Iconic. There are criticisms that can be made, sure, but the trilogy ultimately loves, respects, and appreciates its female characters (and important to note that the avatars of The System, the Architect and the Agents, are all white men).

Then we have the Oracle, who ultimately holds the most power and is the victor of the human/machine war. There's so much going on with the Oracle I could talk about it all day. It's that fate vs free will question again (“if you already know, how can I make a choice?”), but with the wrinkle of manipulation (“would you still have broken it if I hadn’t said anything?”). Choice is the foundation the Matrix is built on, the unconscious choice for humans to accept the system or reject it - the Architect can't control that, he can only manage it, and the Oracle can't force Neo onto the path she has set out for him, only predict the choices he will make based on her study of the human psyche ("did you always know?"/"No...but I believed"). But she plays with the concept of fate in a complicated web of prophesies for outcome she wants and trusting the nature of Morpheus, Trinity, and Neo to bring it about.

And then there's the visual storytelling - there is so much meaning in almost every frame and line of dialogue. The mirroring and ring cycles not only in the constant presence of reflective surfaces and central metaphor of the Matrix as a simulacrum, but the androgyny of Neo and Trinity, bringing each other back from the dead in successive films (and ultimately both ultimately dying in the third), Neo and Morpheus’ first and last meetings, Smith who is ultimately Neo’s dark mirror, the Oracle/the Architect, just to name a few. I just…really really love these movies? Maybe I’ll do a full post rewatch sometime.

I am however reserving judgement on the Matrix 4 - already there are a few things making me uneasy. Lana is the sole director for this one (Lilly is not involved), and Laurence Fishburne apparently wasn't even asked back, even though Morpheus actually survives the trilogy (as opposed to Neo and Trinity). But I’m interested, and don’t want to go in with any expectations, but rather ready to be surprised again like I was when I watched the first film (and hope I can stay away from spoilers).

John Wick Trilogy (dir. Chad Stahelski) - It was a trilogy kind of month! This genre is generally not my thing, as I don’t have a high tolerance for graphic violence and pure action bores me after a while, but I was in a Keanu kind of mood and I'm always hearing people go on about John Wick so I wanted to know what (if anything) I was missing. While still a bit too violent for my tastes, if nothing else I could appreciate the dance-like fight choreography, even if the worldbuulding is absolutely ridiculous - I mean, literally thousands of assassins across the world chilling in sanctuary hotels, supported by a vast network of weapon suppliers, tailors, surgeons, spy networks, etc? It’s silly, but hey, I was happy to go along with it.

What I do appreciate about Keanu Reeves, and this seems to be a common thread, is that even when in action hero mode (Matrix, Point Break, John Wick, and to a lesser extent Speed), he consistently plays a man who is completely in love with his partner/wife - like, completely, unapologetically devoted to them, and I think that is a big part of the appeal - it's that Keanu energy that is often the antithesis of toxic masculinity, even when in roles that would ordinarily rely on those tropes.

Wick is in many ways the spiritual successor to Neo - insular, taciturn, and even as he's dispatching death with clinical precision. Much like Neo, Wick is a character who is somehow Soft (tm) despite all the violence. I once listened to a podcast where they amusingly discussed the Reeves oeuvre as simulations of Neo still trapped in the Matrix, and it’s very easy to make the case here and imagine John Wick as Neo plugged back in after Revolutions, mourning Trinity and set on mission after mission to keep his mind active (and it would certainly explain why the guy hasn’t dropped dead after being stabbed, beaten up, strangled, hit by a car, shot, and falling off a building). It’s a fun little theory.

Stahelski was Reeves' stunt double and a stunt coordinator on The Matrix and there's plenty of homages in the visual style and reuniting Reeves with costars Laurence Fishburne and Randall Duk Kim (who played the Keymaker).

I did also find it amusing that Wick is also often referred to as babayaga (equated in the film to the bogeyman). Well, Wick is in many ways a witch who lives in the woods, just wanting to be left alone with his dog, and there is a supernatural energy to the character, so...I guess?

Space Jam: A New Legacy (dir. Malcolm D Lee) - I took my niece to see this at the cinema and it was…pretty much what you would expect. I thought it was fine for what it was, even if a bit slow in parts (it takes a looong time for the looneys to show up) and I wonder if they have the same cultural pull they had in the nineties (the age of Tweety Bird supremacy). But the kids seemed into it (my niece liked porky pig) and that's what counts I guess.

This time, the toon battle royale takes place on the WB servers, where evil A.I. Don Cheadle (having the time of his life chewing the cg scenery) wants to capture Lebron James for...reasons, idk. James and Bugs have to find the rest of the looneys scattered across the server-verse, a chance for WB to desperately remind people that they too, have media properties and a multiverse including DC comics world, Harry Potter world, Matrix world, Mad Max world, Casablanca world etc. Some of it feels very dated - there is I kid you not an Austin Powers reference, although it did make me smile that Trinity was on James’ list of most wanted players (skill: agility).

Unfortunately, nothing it really done with this multiverse concept except “hey, remember this movie? Now with looneys” six times, and the crowd for the game populated by WB denizens including the Iron Giant, Pennywise, the monkeys from the Wizard of Oz, Scooby Doo and the gang, etc. But still, it's fun, and hardly the tarnishing of a legacy or whatever nonsense is driving youtube clicks these days.

Writing

The Lady of the Lake - 2335 words.

Against the Dying of the Light - 2927 words, Chapter 13 posted.

Total: 5272 this month, 38,488 this year.

[mysteriesmuse]

Douxie Casperan: One shot

A/N: This is purely self indulgent, I thought the idea of Doux helping the reader out with the hair style of the 12th century would be super great! (In the time period it's basically anything you want goes, but they do have lots of adornments such as the ribbons meantioned!) Enjoy! :)

“Right well,” Douxie pressed his hands together, “It seems we should all go about our set tasks remaining inconspicuous, so we need to get some 12th century garbs."

. . . .

Claire looked towards Y/N, the whites of her eyes showing until at last their fingers grasped at air, ripped asunder under the scrutinizing eyes of these medieval women.

Y/N emerged from the rooms first, “These dresses are so long,” she growls hastily grabbing a fistful of the light cotton fabric stumbling at the utter disorientation. A drastic change of wardrobe.

Her head snaps up at the sound of more foot steps to be greeted with purple trailing up to an elaborate bodice and great puffy sleeves. Claire’s face is now upturned at the corners in a smile, “You look good. I like the sleeves.” Y/N nods her chin towards Claire to which she calls.

"I know!” Claire holds her arms out and does a spin. “Very nice!”

Claire hums with a nod looking over Y/N instead of purple it’s a saturated blue, but the bodice piece is still embroidered with the same fuchsia floss as Claire’s. Noticing this examination Y/N gives a playful curtesy. “Hmm.”

“Wait a minute,” she exclaims, “no fair you don’t have the sleeves!”

“Oh yeah,” with a shrug she chuckles, “they decided that my shoulders were too big for that.”

“Pft, you’d look great in these sleeves.” She replies waving a hand. “I suppose it’s handmaiden duty now. Good luck,” Claire flashes Y/N a nervous grin before exiting the door.

-----

Can’t believe I’m the help.” Y/N mutters pulling out the list of duties the fellow castle staff has given her.

Due to King Arthur’s new ban to the forest and the tension between the magical creatures and humans the staff has dwindled. And, unfortunately, it’s suspected that those running errands have been eaten by the Gumm-Gumms.

“Laundry, Mending, the Baker,” the list ends there, but as the staff assured there’d be plenty to do as a new set of hands as the day continued on.

Y/N continues walking, crossing the giant bridge stretching across the towers. The wind up there easily moves the ever so long dress and the previously unknotted tresses of hair.

Relishing in the warmth of the sun, basket in hand she closes her eyes to enjoy the felling of being up so high.

“I-hey! Ow.”

“Fuzz buckets, sorry love. Are you alright?”

Y/N turns, only to blink up at Douxie. No, it’s indeed the one with blue hair. However, the back is pulled into a man bun up top.

“Oh wow, I suppose that’s in?” Y/N asks tentatively eyes flashing up to the top of Douxies head before meeting his eyes.

“Uh,” he hesitates before answering, “Sure. But I can tell you that your hair situation is a mess.”

Y/N reaches up to grab a hold of some strands of hair, “No it isn’t!”

A defensive holler. Douxie sighs, “That isn’t-oh, for Merlins Sake.”

He grabs at the spare ribbon tied around your wrists, “That’s not what they’re for love.”

“It’s not?” An raised brow quickly kisses the other as it’s followed by an inquisitive puppy dog tilt of the head.

Douxie fidgets. He was not expecting that kind of unsolicited action out of you. Shifting his weight he responses.

“Care if I help you out with that then?” Arm extended back towards the direction he came from with a soft smile. Y/N nods, and trails him back to his room.

“Hold still, this is gonna take a few minutes,” Douxie hums taking out a comb and getting to work on prepping Y/N’s hair.

She sits upon the table quietly, hands placed behind her for support and ankles crossed off each other as she swings them slightly back and forth.

Y/N watches, Douxie’s eyes following the work he was doing with his hands. She can’t see what he’s doing but she can tell that there’s some type of braiding going on.

Douxie works quietly. He’s not shocked at how soft it is, it’s about as rich and luxurious as you’ve always claimed it to be.

He’s skilled at this. Knows exactly what he’s supposed to be doing even after centuries, after all he was born in this one.

“There, viola!” He exclaims, fingers working nimbly, “And a pretty bow to finish it off, for the lady.” Coming around Douxie steppes back with his arms crossed to inspect his work.

Y/N grinned running her hands along the texture, the silky ribbon intertwined and encasing pieces of hair in some manner. “Thank you,” she replies instinctively reaching to grab at a small lock of hair from the base of her neck, preceding to twirl and tug it.

“Anytime, now I have some time travel duties to attend to dear.” Douxie grins with a lopsided smirk.

“So do I, and I’m going to need to ask for your clothes,” she gestures towards the laundry basket on the other edge of the room.

“Why, If you wanted them, you just had to ask.” Douxie replies chuckling, making a few quick paces over to the corner and grabbing the basket before offering it over.

Jumping off the table and walking over to meet Douxie face to face Y/N extends her arms bumping Douxie in the abdomen with a basket of her own, “Thanks. Maybe I will next time.”

Hastily snatching the basket out of Douxies hands she turns right before exiting the door, “Oh and Douxie,” she croons before clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, “chin up.”

Douxie blinks his hazel eyes before closing his mouth and making the same tch, “Cheeky.”

-----

After several hours the work of the laundry, mending bin, and assisting the baker with grabbing the right ingredients was finally done for. As an errand servant in the castle Y/N quickly learned how tiring and just how much bustling about from place to place in the castle it was.

With a sharp turn down the hallway Y/N briskly walked to go grab the fabric napkins and she began meticulously, and begrudgingly folding them to be set at the Kings table for dinner.

“Oh blast it,” she growled between her teeth as she placed another folded napkin on the tray. “I can’t seem to get this darn thing to stay.”

After working all day the hair Douxie had so generously put up for her was starting to come undone. Without a mirror and without knowing the actual look all Y/N could do was put it up again by feverishly retying the ribbons end which held the whole thing up.

Perhaps that baby in the village had really tugged the lot of the knot out, Y/N pondered, struggling once again.

A grunt could be heard down the hallway and Y/N and the other castle maids and helpers quickly turned to the grand banquet doors where the sound was heard.

Only to be followed by some more clanking of metal and several loud. Booms.

The staff winced, before seeing a young Hisirdoux round the corner with eyes blown open. Y/N smiled a soft smile at seeing the punk rock boy she knew so shy and young.

He scuttled in and nervously fiddled with his fingers and with the culprit of the loud noise found, and the noises outside subsiding the kitchen staff returned to their duties.

Y/N shook her head slightly, using the palm of her hand to sniffle a snort.

Young Hisirdoux cut his hazel eyes over to her for a second. Y/N simply shrugged and gestures to her work of folded napkins before returning to it.

A few minutes later, with the kitchen mostly cleared out in light of adding finishing touches to dishes in the kitchen. Y/N went about bending over and placing one particular piece of silverware in the place setting around the entire grand hall table.

“Oh, for Pete’s Sake,” she exclaimed at the sensation. Finding the frayed edge of the ribbon dangling over her collarbone once again.

“Oh, hello there.” Hisir-Douxie replied waving his arm energetically.

With a snort Y/N waved back. Douxie was quite goofy back in the day, although, Y/N thought he was still endearingly goofy to this day too.

"You’re one of the people that other-Hisirdou- I mean me, er I brought back in time.” The tone in his voice changing dramatically throughout the entire sentence.

Y/N nodded, “That I am, but you have to kept it a secret.” She replied, making a ‘sh’ sign with her finger.

“Ha, right.” Hisirdouxie giggles while walking over. “Well, I can help with that! I’m training to be Merlins Apprentice after all.” He states matter-of-factly and thrusts a thumb into his chest.

Walking still ever so closer to Y/N, Hisirdoux stares down at the dangling offensive piece of ribbon that’s been bugging Y/N for most the of the morning.

“I could gladly fix that up for you!” He cheers with a wide grin clapping his hands together in delight.

“Really?” Y/N asks turning to face him. He furiously nods his head, hair bouncing around his face. “I’d actually really appreciate that, please.”

With a hurried jump Hisirdouxie rounds the side and hesistates before touching, “May I?” He asks voice breaking just a little.

“Go ahead.” Is the simple answer he gets before he goes in and fixes off the work of his future self coming to a pause at redoing the knot.

“And to finish it off, a pretty bow, for the pretty lady.”

[i-like-it-when-ju-sleeps]

Turning Page (Part 1)

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon (BBC) x Sarah (OC)

A/N: This takes place during the first episode of Merlin

The sun shone brightly as villagers congregated to the town square. Passers-by stopped to join the group that stood in front of the small platform, guards stood carefully, awaiting orders from their king. Lady Sarah was safely hidden in the castle, as it was required for her and other ladies to do during executions. She was about to join Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot, on the balcony that overlooked the town square, but stopped herself when she noticed her friend Morgana standing at the window.

“Are you alright, Morgana?” Sarah asked quietly, her hand coming to rest on the young woman’s shoulder. Her friend jumped a little at the sound of her voice. Once she realized that she was not in any kind of trouble, Morgana smiled, although it never truly reached her eyes. Sarah knew that smile well. It was one that Morgana used whenever she was trying to hide her true feelings.

“I am alright. Better than that poor man.” She answered bitterly as both young women looked out the window. A man was being dragged out to the platform, guards on either side of him. As he was forcefully dropped to his knees, head pushed down to meet stone, Sarah reached for her friend’s hand. She was about to say something when the King stepped out on the balcony to address his people. Sarah could not help but notice that Arthur was not with the King either.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all.” Uther’s voice rang as head turned in his direction. “This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king,” Sarah scoffed at that, Morgana giving her a knowing look “but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass.” The executioner looked at the King, axe in hand, awaiting his orders. Uther raised his hand, and, slowly, let it drop down, motioning for the man to be beheaded.

Sarah felt her friend’s hand tightening around her own, and as the axe reached the man’s neck, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch. Next to her, Morgana sucked in a breath, emotion welling up in her eyes at the sight. Under them, people gasped in shock.

“When I came to this land,” Uther claimed, pride lacing his voice, as everyone turned back to him “this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin.” He smiled as he spoke, expecting his subjects to applaud his actions. However, a murmur rose among the people, who started to disperse. It was true that no one resented magic as much as Uther Pendragon, but the people also know that the man was blinded by his hatred, and not many feared magic anymore. Sarah felt a pang in her chest, knowing that a young man was just killed because of the King’s selfishness and ignorance. She was about to leave, not bearing the sight of the town square anymore, when a frail voice rang out.

“There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic!” The crowd dispersed and an old woman came to view, hands shaking as she pointed accusingly at the King. “It is you! With your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son! And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son.” Sarah felt dread at the woman’s words. A grave sense of danger washed over her, and she looked at Uther to see his response. Of course, he did not seem phased by the woman, and simply shouted at his men to seize her. As soldiers started to reach for her, the woman uttered words that Sarah could not understand, and disappeared in a gust of wind. Sarah took a step back. The woman had escaped, and she was not afraid of using magic; at least, not anymore.

“That poor mother.” Morgana whispered.

“I will never understand how someone can be so driven by hate.” Morgana’s eyes widened as Sarah spoke. While she agreed, she knew that speaking that way against the King could be harmful. But Sarah had always been brave and unafraid to speak her mind, something that had allowed the two women to become very fast friends when Sarah first arrived. “Someday, I fear all this hate may be his downfall.”

-------

The next day, Lady Sarah was walking around the town, enjoying the sun with her maid, when she heard commotion at the entrance of the castle. As she reached the small patch of grass, she noticed Prince Arthur and the knights laughing while a young man was being arrested by guards. On the ground, Arthur’s servant looked horrified as he looked at the stranger. Sarah could not help but feel like the stranger seemed familiar, and it was not until she reached him that she understood why.

“Merlin, is that you?” she asked, and the guards stopped as they saw the princess, confused as to why she was addressing the man they were arresting.

“You know this idiot?” Arthur asked, eyebrows raised, but Sarah paid him no mind, instead looking at the young man she never thought she would see again.

“Oh, hello Sarah.” Merlin grinned. Despite his predicament, he seemed cheerful and glad to see her. “I didn’t know you were in Camelot.”

“You can’t talk to her like that either.” Arthur protested, giving the guards a look as if to tell them to take Merlin away.

“It’s quite alright.” Sarah chuckled. She watched as the guards started to pull Merlin towards the castle. “Typical Merlin I suppose, always getting in trouble.” Merlin grinned as if to say that it was bound to happen anyway. “I guess I will see you when you’re not so… busy.” She teased. Merlin shook his head a little at her and she looked as he disappeared inside the courtyard.

Arthur and the other knights were still silently looking at the young princess, Arthur stunned because of what had happened, and the knights in respect to the woman. Sarah walked to the servant boy who was still on the ground.

“Can you stand?” she asked the young boy, who nodded quickly, too stunned to speak. He stood up and bowed his head to Sarah, finally finding his voice again.

“I am alright, my Lady.” He answered quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur spoke up, “may I know what just happened here?”

“Oh, good morning to you as well Arthur.” She gave him a small smirk, knowing that when he was in one of those moods, he could get annoyed really easily. Arthur rolled her eyes at her.

“How did you know that man?” he asked sternly.

“He’s an old friend.” She shrugged good-heartedly. When she saw that Arthur was not going to let it go, she continued. “My mother used to make me spend some time in a neighbouring village. I met Merlin there and we were great friends. Now could you tell me why he was just arrested by the guards? Anything to do with that poor servant who was on the ground?”

The knights quickly started looking anywhere but at the two. Arthur stumbled upon his words to answer, not very prince-like, which told Sarah that he had done something wrong.

“I was doing my own business, training, and your friend interfered and spoke to me like… like…”

“Like you were acting an idiot I take it?” Arthur scowled at her jest. If it had been anyone else, he may have protested, but he knew that it would be no use, she was right anyway. She gave him a smug smile, waiting for him to answer. He rolled his eyes and tried to muster his most charming smile.

“If you’ll excuse us, we should probably get back to training, but I will see you later today, yes?” he asked, and as he did, he grabbed her right hand, lifting it towards him to press a kiss upon her knuckles. She gave him an earnest smile at the gesture, squeezing his hand in return.

“Of course.” She answered. “You boys keep him out of trouble.” She told the knights who were still standing around. “You lot behave for the rest of the day, yes?” They all smiled at her as she made her way back to the courtyard, continuing her walk around the market.

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden: Chapter 3

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering). Vague r**e scene at the end.

Master list or read on AO3

2.2k words

---------

Percival, sat with Elyan and opposite Arthur and Lancelot’s bickering, kept tabs on Gwaine and the girl. He didn’t miss the way his face lit up with glee and, if he understood correctly, mischief. It made him happy to see his friend on his way back to normal, but he still felt the pit in his stomach filled with anxiety. Why had his joyous little friend been in such a state in the first place? He had initially dismissed the thought that he was spooked by seeing the girl looking so unwell as he was well versed in bloody bodies, but that was the only explanation he could find.

“You see it too?” Elyan asked from his spot next to the giant. He could only grunt in response, too caught up in his concern for his friend. “Maybe he just needed some rest like he said last night.”

He understood the suggestion, but Percival had seen Gwaine when he was tired, and this wasn’t it. Unless, the cynical side of him thought, you don’t know him as well as you think you do. He tucked that thought away into the back of his mind to deal with at home. The woods with an injured woman and the king are not an appropriate setting for a crisis.

“We should help Merlin pack everything up and get a move on. I think it’s best that Lancelot and Arthur are separated as soon as possible.” Elyan said, knowing that things could only get more heated if they stayed where they were any longer.

--

With the horses all loaded up and the argument currently settled (Arthur was wrong, regardless of his pitiful defences) Lancelot mounted his horse and helped Percy lift Miriam up to him again. He was looking forward to riding with her now she was fully back to the land of the living. She seemed like an interesting young woman and reminded him of Gwen, somehow. The whole party – bar Arthur, if that morning was anything to go by – seemed to look at her in a sisterly manner. They wanted to help her, but no one knew how to treat her. They knew not talk walk on eggshells around her, but she was still a stranger, and they didn’t know the appropriate limits yet. Hopefully, they would figure them out soon, for everyone’s sake. That was the one good thing that came from Arthur’s outburst last night: they knew shouting was not a wise idea.

Well duh, he added.

“Are you comfortable, Miriam?”

“As comfortable as one can be on the second day of riding with a head that won’t stop spinning.” She quipped back. It took everything in him to not laugh at the way she made her remark.

“We can go slowly if that would help. Or I have water. Or you could sleep again, maybe more sleep is what you need?” She shook her head but leant back against his chest anyway. He could feel warmth spread through him and his cheeks heat up.

“It is okay. I would like to get to still, stone ground as soon as we can anyway.” He understood the feeling – it was often one he experienced on the return from hunting trips. While not quite as against them as Merlin, they always drained him and he found he slept far better the first night back. He hoped it would be the same for her as, judging by the bags under her eyes, she hadn’t got much sleep the previous night. “And I wanted to hear more of your stories.” She tilted her head back to look at him as she said this and he couldn’t help but notice how the freckles that littered her face reminded him of the constellations his mother taught him when he was but an infant.

“I suppose there are a few more I could tell you. Anything in particular you are after?”

They sat in silence as she pondered the question. Just as he was considering asking again, she answered: “tell me about Camelot. Is it truly as free as they say?”

This was not the topic he was expecting. He mulled the question over, what did she really want to know with one like that? Was it, he worried, that she wanted to know about the attitudes towards magic? He had enough to worry about with Merlin and his magic (that isn’t to say he isn’t grateful that his friend still confided in him, but he was quite the chaotic individual and more than once he had feared for Merlin’s life and the likeliness of him getting himself killed) and the prospect of befriending another magical individual did not do his heart much good.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to answer, I am sure you don’t want to disrespect your home or king.”

That was curious, she didn’t expect the answer to be positive, then? Deciding to brave it, he asked her to elaborate.

“When I was younger, maybe eight summers, a woman passed through the village I was living in. She wore armour of leather and steel and carried curved swords – like I’ve carved into the handle of my knife that your large friend has taken from me,” Percival turned on his horse at this, and gave her a small, apologetic smile, “and she told the most curious stories of lands she had visited. One such land – Camelot, she told me – had women like her. Women that wore armour and…” She paused to take a deep breath. She was getting rather warm; Lancelot could feel it on his arms as they curved past her to hold onto the reins. She began again, voice lower this time, “Women that would do unto each other as a man might his wife.”

She stopped, hoping her riding partner might catch onto what she was asking. Her head was so foggy that she was no longer sure that she knew what she was saying, really, but she had to ask before they arrived at their destination. She had been watching the way the King interacted with his manservant since she awoke the day before and she needed to know if they were what she thought they were.

If they were like her.

--

Gwaine watched as the girl slumped against Lancelot, clearly exhausted. He remembered the first time he was in her position and how it drained him. The thought of riding for days before finding a bed, while in that condition, was not a pleasant one and he certainly didn’t envy her.

He had enjoyed their conversation that morning. Having yet another person that could see Arthur as the ‘prat’ he was (he really needs to thank Merlin for introducing him to that word) was nice but the moment they stopped talking, he noticed his mind drifting back to why she was with them in the first place.

He hated it, plain and simple.

He thought that those days were far behind him and that, wearing the royal red and gold cloak, he was free. To have years of repressed memories hit him at once like this did not do him well.

The pounding behind his eyes grew. He really should have eaten dinner last night. Serves you right.

He sighed, rolling his eyes at himself.

--

The sun was directly above them before the pearly walls came into view. It was getting swelteringly hot, and all Arthur could think of was his large wooden tub in the centre of his room. And, though only a brief thought that he shoved away as quickly as possible, what Merlin would look like in it with him. He cleared his throat and raised his hand.

“I can see Camelot; we should be only another half of an hour.”

He heard Percival cheer, possibly sarcastic but probably not. Internally, he was reacting the same way. With Merlin by his side, he led the party back home.

--

Miriam insisted that she could walk to the Physicians chambers herself and that she didn’t need carrying. After reaching the top of the entrance steps, she began to reconsider. She could hear the sea in her ears, and her vision was fuzzy. I’ll just rest against Percival for a second, she thought.

She woke in a small cot with a blanket pulled up to her neck. She was so hot, sweat pooling in every crevice. Her head was pounding worse than it had the night of Anabella’s wedding and her arm was burning again. This isn’t ideal. She can’t die right and now it seemed as if she can’t not die right either. What a cruel irony. The ocean in her head was quieter and she could hear distant voices. One sounded like Merlin and the other someone old – the Physician, perhaps? After a few attempts, she pulled her eyes open and waited for them to focus. She could see ointments lining shelves, herbs drying from the ceiling, and more books than she had ever seen before. A woman with beautiful brown skin sat beside her, rinsing a cloth in a bucket on the floor.

She opened her mouth with the intention of greeting this stunning stranger, but could only make a quiet, choked sound. She brought her hand up to her throat as if that would make it better. The woman, noticing her distress, jumped up and retrieved a goblet of water. She lifted the back of Miriam’s head and helped her take a few sips, before setting her back onto the feather pillow.

“I’m Gwen. Guinevere. I’m a friend of Merlin’s.” She smiled and Miriam couldn’t help but notice the way it made her eyes sparkle.

“Miriam but you can call me Miri.” She forced out, hoping she didn’t sound too eager.

“’Miri’, I’ve never heard a name like that before. It’s cute.” Gwen looked down at the goblet, red seeping into her cheeks.

Miri began to push her hands on the bed, attempting to sit up. She could feel the torn skin protest, but she couldn’t bear to lie down any longer. Merlin rushed over, helping Gwen push her back down onto the bed and the old man – Miri could see him properly now – made his way to the empty chair beside her.

He had white hair that reached his shoulders, more wrinkles than she would expect on a man that could move as well as he could, and an impressively judgemental look on his face. One eyebrow seemed to be permanently raised and, feeling small, she obeyed Merlin and Gwen’s direction for her to lay back.

“You need rest, my dear.” He spoke gently, but she could feel the order behind his words. She sighed and, giving up, closed her eyes again.

It took a while to get to sleep, as it always does for the broken girl. She could feel Gwen put the wet cloth back onto her forehead which was quite a relief for a little while, and she listened to the trio talk. The old man said that she was too stubborn for her own good and that she reminded him of Merlin when he was sick (she wondered if he was often sick, she hoped not for the man’s sake if Merlin was truly as stubborn as he said) and Gwen asked what happened to her. The room went silent at that and Miri felt herself freeze up. She knew people would talk, especially while she was being treated, but she had hoped that she would at least not hear it. She wondered how she would explain it when she was allowed to talk again, and if she even wanted to explain it. What would they think?

Secretly, she thought that Gwaine fellow would understand. There was something about the way he watched her that made her feel like he knew what had been going through her head when she made her way into the forest that day. For his sake, she hoped he didn’t, but she resolved to talk to him about it when she could. Even if she was wrong, he seemed fun and she was in dire need of someone fun right now.

When she finally did get to sleep, thinking of plaiting daisies into the knight’s hair, she met her nightmares. It shouldn’t have surprised her but a part of her had expected them to leave her alone for a little while after such a traumatic event had happened to her body. Gods, did she hope they would leave her alone.

It stared as they normally did. The fire was burning, casting a warm orange glow against the back wall of the hut. Miriam, around five summers, was sat on a stool, occasionally throwing sticks onto it. She looked behind her and she was in the village hall, bodyless hands traveling over her body. One made its way up her dress, softly tracing the inside of her thighs, and a laugh sounded in her ear. A body formed next to her. It had the same brown eyes and curly black hair as her – his cropped close to his scalp – and that smile that she had seen everyday since she was born.

All she could do was gasp “No, please. Please stop.”

But she knew it wouldn’t do anything.

It never did.

She was pressed against the mud, one hand holding her face down and the other gripping onto her hips. Please, not again, she begged her mind to stop showing her this.

Fabric teared, bruises formed, and tears poured.

[supercalvin]

Oh great queen of fics , you have written many amazing fics and ficlets. Your power of words is among the greatest we shall ever see. Will you grant me my wish for a ficlet of Arthur reacting to season 5 thicc Merlin? (Butishokayifyoudontimsosorryforwastingyourtimeandgivingyousomuchtrouble)

Two things.

1. You know I’m obsessed with this concept. You know this.

2. I mean… if you haven’t seen @archaeologistd’s photos from the 2012 filming of Merlin, and all the amazing ‘colin, holy shit, your shoulders and thighs, what the hell’ images…what are you doing…

Prompts + Ficlets

***

They rode into the village discreetly as possible. Merlin had made sure to hide anything with the Pendragon seal on it and Arthur had donned a simple tunic and breeches they had bought in a neighboring village. His sword was sheathed, so no one could tell how finely made it was. He was hoping not to use it. They were only meant to come in, see the damage the bandits had, and all without letting the bandits know they had been found out by the Knights.

“Two beds for the night,” Merlin handed over a few coins to the tavern girl, “And a place for our horses?”

“Down the road,” She nodded, eying Merlin up and down. Small towns were suspicious, Arthur thought. But then her face turned coy and Arthur realized she wasn’t suspicious at all. “Need anything else, love?”

Merlin smiled, “That’ll do, thanks.”

Merlin had told Arthur to do as little speaking as possible. Normally Arthur would have argued, but Arthur was well aware that he wasn’t the best at blending in with common folk. Thirty years of being raised as royalty would do that to a man.

They led their horses to the stable down the road. There was something about being disguised as two common men that had made Arthur rather contemplative. When they were in the citadel Arthur was always so wrapped up with his duties and after ten years of seeing Merlin by his side, he had never really stopped to watch Merlin.

Merlin hefted the saddles off their horses with ease. Arthur could still remember, with more than a little fondness, how the young boy had struggled the do that task when first employed by Arthur. Now that he was a man, the task was completed without a thought, let alone a struggle.

They ate their dinner in the tavern, and Arthur did not fail to notice the eyes that lingered on them. Part of it was because they were strange travelers in a small village, but the other part of it was that they were two attractive men. Arthur was used to the attention. But he turned to look at Merlin to see how he was handling it.

Merlin was leaning against the tavern counter, and to Arthur’s annoyance, the tavern girl was batting her eyelashes at him. The worst part was that Merlin didn’t seem at all flustered. In fact, he looked like he was flirting with her.

When Merlin came back with their mead, Arthur glared at him, “Don’t forget that we’re here for a reason, Merlin.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, “I’m aware. Elaine over there was just telling me there have been bandits coming through here for the last three days.”

Arthur grumbled into his mead about Merlin using his wiles against young women.

As they settled into their room for the night, Arthur couldn’t help but watch Merlin out of the corner of his eye.

“We’ll go into the woods tomorrow, see if we can track them back to their camp,” Merlin said as he pulled off his tunic. He took a washcloth and quickly wiped his arms and chest.

Arthur hummed, watching Merlin’s shoulders. They had always been broad, but Arthur never remembered them being quiet so muscled. His waist seemed so slim in comparison. It was hard to see by candlelight and before Arthur could get a good look, Merlin had pulled his tunic back on.

Arthur laid awake thinking about how Merlin was just as fit as some of his knights and that seemed to have slipped Arthur’s notice.

***

Meanwhile Arthur:

Prompts + Ficlets