#stop being cowards and let arthur stand on his own

[3-2-1-annihilation-station]

My biggest fear about a RDR1 remake/remaster is that they'll nerf John to make Arthur look better like they did in RDR2

[hopelessromantic5]

Part 2 of ghost-visit merthur Drabble.

Magic reveal included.

The blonde studied his manservant, as he was in the habit of doing, lately. Merlin was nervous and perhaps even…scared?

What possible reason could Merlin have to fear him?

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” Arthur did not need an answer, he already knew that he wouldn’t.

“Maybe-“ Merlin stopped and started again. “It might be easier if I show you.” He was quiet, only illuminated by the light coming into the princes chambers from the corridor.

Arthur honestly didn’t have any idea what was about to happen.

When it was over, he felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

The first thing Merlin did was cup his palms together, in front of his chest, eyes closed, as if he were praying.

He, all at once, opened his hands and his eyes, revealing a glowing blue butterfly, Arthur focused on it only for a heartbeat, gasping at the sight.

Then he caught Merlin’s own gaze, blue eyes turned golden like the heat of the sun, shining brighter than any fire Arthur had ever seen.

The Prince felt many things. Confusion and shame and anger, at himself, at Merlin, at his father.

But surprisingly, Arthur felt no fear. He didn’t get that sickening drop in his stomach that normally occurred when confronted with magic.

He had the quick thought that maybe it was because the magic was always being used by people who wanted him dead.

Instead of that unbearable chill in the air, Merlin’s magic left Arthur feeling like he’d just been out training in the summer. He felt renewed, recharged.

When Merlin let the butterfly disappear into the room, brightening the space about a foot in either direction of its flapping wings, his eyes faded back to their stormy blue, rainclouds over the ocean.

Arthur was speechless.

A million scenes over the past few years played through his mind’s eye with this new knowledge now secured. Everything seemed to make a little more sense. The prince never being able to find Merlin in times of trouble, his manservant always disappearing and hiding behind trees while bandits were being tripped by roots that weren’t there before, felled by branches falling at the perfect time. Victories being won against foes that Arthur had no recollection of defeating.

Arthur should be dead ten times over, probably. If not for the man who stood before him. If not for magic.

He couldn’t find words for a long time.

Merlin did not rush him.

He just stood silently, waiting for whatever fate he assumed was awaiting him. Arthur could only imagine the worst case scenarios playing through his manservant’s mind and it was enough to make him sick.

Finally after taking a deep breath into his lungs, the prince spoke.

“I understand.”

Merlin blinked his eyes three times, an instinct in Arthur nearly verbalized that he was akin to an owl, he thought better of it.

“You-you what?”

“I understand why you didn’t tell me. I can only assume this is not a fact that you share with many people, let alone…you know, me.” Arthur’s nerves were beginning to catch up to him. He wasn’t used to being so bare and unguarded, and certainly not in front of Merlin.

But another fact he was settling upon him was that Merlin had the upper hand here. He’d possibly always had it, from that very first day. Yet, even when Merlin was his most fed up, his most aggravated with Arthur, even at times when they refused to speak to each other out of pure stubbornness, Merlin never turned on him. Never even used his magic to give Arthur a good smack over the head (that he probably deserved).

Even when Merlin had to watch his own people die on the pyre, he never turned on Arthur.

Not even when he learned what Arthur did that awful day. A quiet Druid camp drowned in the screams of the innocent because he was too much of a coward to stand up to his father, and not enough of a Prince to get his knights to obey his orders of sparing the children. Even though, he failed.

Merlin never lost faith in him. The prince still sees it, even now.

“You’re not…angry?” This voice was small compared to his usual boisterous demeanor.

“I am angry.” Arthur nodded. “But only at our circumstances. If I were not here and you were not there, none of this would be as difficult as it is.”

“You must know,” Merlin whispered. “I’ve only ever used it to help you. To ensure that you and this kingdom were safe.” The prince saw him swallow, one of his many tells. Merlin is nervous. “Arthur, I told you this once before, but back home I was…lost. I had all of this pent up energy and nowhere to put it down, I felt I had no true purpose there. I’ve since learned many things that all led me to one conclusion. I’m supposed to be here, at your side. To make sure you actually survive long enough to ascend the throne-“

Arthur almost interjected to say he didn’t need protecting but clamped his mouth shut because he knew, now, that wasn’t necessarily true, as much as he hated to admit it.

“-but also because…Well,” Merlin cleared his throat, Arthur took a moment to wonder what he was about to say that was causing him to be so antsy. “I do not think I could leave, even if you ordered me to go. I…I think being away from you would probably rip me apart.” He laughed a humorless, pitiful laugh and was looking down at feet. Arthur watched a tear fall from his eyes like the first raindrop and land on the stone floor.

“I could never send you away.” Arthur shook his head. “You’re just as necessary to this kingdom’s survival as I am.”

Merlin audibly gasped, Arthur went on as if he didn’t hear it.

“I want Camelot to be…I don’t know, good, for lack of a better word. I want it to be welcoming and bright and full of life. Not plagued with death and decay and heartache. I do not want even our poorest citizens to have to wonder what they will eat in the winter. I don’t want another person stepping foot into this kingdom and immediately witnessing a beheading, or a pyre being lit. That is not the kind of place I wish to govern. All I can do is my best, but I need you here. I need you with me. I only ever considered that I could truly change the way things are, when,” he took a heavy breath, “when I realized that you actually believed in me. That you, an insubordinate, treasonous, outsider that had absolutely no reason to ever think such things, you actually had faith that I could do it. And since that day, your faith has been what keeps me going. So you can’t-“

Arthur hadn’t dared to watch Merlin while he spilled his messy heart all over the room. The first shining of the sun was rising over the horizon and soon, they would have to face each other in the daylight.

“You can’t leave, okay?”

The prince walked further into his chambers as he spoke, away from the door, lest any of the guards overhear their conversation.

“That may be selfish of me to request, knowing that you are constantly in danger here. But I am also in a position where I can make sure that you never face the hands of my father. I would never let him hurt you, you know that, right?”

A chuckle was heard from where Merlin still stood behind him,

“I do now.” It was emotional and ridiculous but Arthur was relieved. That Merlin was still Merlin.

“Good.” The prince sighed. “We can discuss this more tomorrow. You can tell me everything I’ve, apparently, missed.”

“Absolutely, sire.”

Arthur turned after a few moments of silence and Merlin was still standing there, in the middle of the room.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, sire?”

“Is there something else you wanted to say?” The prince couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up his face.

“Um…” The raven boy cleared his throat, again. Looking unsure, with more light in the room, Arthur could see his brows pinched. “No, no. Nothing we can’t discuss tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” At this point Arthur was wondering if either he or the both of them were in immediate danger.

“Well I’m not exactly sure if she would want me to tell y-“

“She?!” Arthur voice, embarrassingly, cracked in the middle of his outraged cry. Merlin looked at him like he had goat horns growing out of his head.

In a much calmer tone, Arthur continued.

“And who is ‘she’?”

Something bloomed on Merlin’s face that had Arthur wary.

“Before we get to that, I have a question for you.”

“For me?”

“Considering this is officially the first day that we’re being honest with each other, someone told me that you have a secret of your own and I’d like to know what it is.”

Arthur, dumbfounded and feeling somewhat ambushed, could not think of anything to say other than,

“I didn’t hear a question.”

Like an idiot.

“Must you be so difficult? What is it you’re not telling me? How do you even have time in the day to keep secrets? I know where you are every minute.”

“Technically, I already told you.”

Arthur decided he would much rather brood out the window, staring at the sunset than watch Merlin flinch away from him in disgust.

“When?” The man honestly had no idea.

The prince rolled his eyes, pushing away a stupid smile.

“Just now, you idiot.”

“Did I miss part of the conversation? When did you-“ at the sound of Merlin cutting himself short, Arthur’s neck swiveled. He watched the pieces come together and realization finally hit.

He looked confused.

“I’m confused,” Of course. “You can’t possibly mean-“

“When I said your faith keeps me going, I meant it, Merlin.” There he was, standing in the morning rays, breathtaking as ever, the reason Camelot remains standing. Looking at Arthur as if he were speaking a different language.

“I rise out of that bed every morning simply because I know you will be there.”

This was not the prince and his manservant, this was just Merlin and Arthur. Two boys that met under unfortunate and unfair circumstances.

“And in those gut wrenching moments when I can’t find you, the fear feels as if it might kill me. If anything ever happened-“ Arthur turned his head away and swallowed a sob that threatened to ricochet through him at the mere thought.

“I would probably burn the entire world to the ground.” He whispered. More as a thought to himself, a thought he had never let come to pass.

It was silent for a few heartbeats. Merlin broke it.

“There is a word for that.”

Arthur hung his head at that. Defeat.

He’d finally been bested.

It finally caught him. He’d been evading it for years before Merlin came along, always sidestepping its ever-growing reach.

“Yes, there is.” He admitted. The morning was surreal and glowing, everything had a halo of rainbows. Arthur was running on nothing but adrenaline and at his confession, all of the energy completely drained out of him.

“Though,” Merlin took a step in his direction, and then another. “I shouldn’t. Against my better judgment…I love you, too.”

Arthur had been branded in that moment. As if Merlin had touched his bare skin with a red-hot poker. The words echoed through his emptying mind and bounced off the walls of his chambers.

“I don’t believe you.” Arthur could not catch them before the words fell out of his face.

He was met with chuckling.

Had he said something funny?

“You don’t believe me? The entire bloody kingdom can see it and you, stubborn arse, refuse to believe it, of course.” Merlin rolled his eyes. “Why would I tell you I love you if I didn’t mean it?”

“To make me feel better?” Arthur offered.

“As much as I would hate to hurt your feelings, I would never lie to you about that.”

Arthur suddenly had a thought.

“If that’s the case then who’s the woman?”

“What woman?”

“Earlier you said you weren’t sure if ‘she’ wanted you to tell me. Who’s she? And what did she tell you?”

“Oh.” Merlin fell silent.

And simultaneously, the room went dark.

Arthur’s first thought was that he blacked out. But no. He was still standing in place, he could hear the bustle of the castle beginning to rise for the day.

Someone had merely closed the curtains, blocking out the sun completely.

“Merlin? Did you do that?” Instinctively, his hand when to the hilt of his sword.

“No.” Followed immediately by, “Take my hands.”

“What?”

“I’m going to show you something. Take my hands.”

Arthur could only ever trust Merlin. With everything. His heart, his life, his kingdom.

His manservant’s eyes began to glow the second their hands touched.

It took the prince by surprise by he didn’t pull away. It seemed to take Merlin somewhat by surprise, also. His hands were buzzing, humming with power, Arthur fingers became numb from it after seconds.

Over the ringing in his ears the prince heard Merlin mumble,

“She’s here.”

The buzzing of his skin ceased, his eyes remained golden, blinking and unseeing.

“Who’s here?”

“Turn around and see for yourself.”

Arthur’s brows pinched in confusion, the heavy door at the entrance to his chambers had not been opened. They would’ve heard it.

He turned, dropping Merlin’s hands in the process, shocked beyond words to actually see a figure standing there.

Pale and beautiful. And sad.

He knew her upon sight.

Not because he had any memory of her face to call upon, no portraits were ever painted of her, but he knew, the way every child knows their mother.

He was stuck in place, memorizing every detail that he could to take with him later. To cherish.

“Arthur, my boy.” She spoke softly, only interrupted by her own crying.

Rather than trying to speak again, she crossed the distance between them and engulfed him in a hug.

The hug Arthur thought he would never have. The warmth of which, he’d gone an entire childhood without.

There truly was nothing more healing than being surrounded by a person who loves you, unconditionally.

“H-how did- why-?” Arthur cut each thought short because they did not seem important enough.

“I’m so sorry, mother.” He whispered into his mothers shoulder, silently letting wells of tears flow. “You should never have met such an awful fate because of me.”

“Hush now, none of that.” The Queen placed her hands on either side of Arthur’s face, holding him up. “I have been here with you, all this time, Arthur. That is all I ever wanted; To be with you. That is the only regret I carry regarding your birth, I would do it all again, if it meant you got the chance to live.”

“You’ve been…here? In the castle?”

She nodded.

“Seeing but never seen.” Arthur was both elated and heartbroken at seeing his mother this way. “That was the rule. Though, I think with your friend over there, anything is possible.”

“Yes, I’m beginning to think he’s more powerful than he lets on.” The absurdity of this conversation was not lost on him. If anyone had told him five hours ago that this would be his new normal, he’d probably have them thrown in the stocks.

His mother laughed and it was a beautiful sound, like the the high chiming of the wind charms made by a woman in the lower town, citizens hang them to hear them sing when the Earth is speaking through the breeze.

“I think you underestimate him quite a bit, your highness.” She shook her head at him, as every other mother had that Arthur always looked upon and wondered. “Merlin is magic. He is the power of the earth made human. And his loyalty is to you. You are a very fortunate king, indeed.”

“Not King yet, mother.”

She sobered immediately from her playfulness.

Arthur did not have to guess why.

“Do not listen to your father, Arthur. It may go against all you’ve been taught but he is not always right. In fact, he is almost always wrong. Especially in terms of political affairs, but always with you. What he says to you, of you, is what he thinks of himself. He is angry because he is getting old and he cannot control time. He has taken his life’s hardships out on you and you never deserved that, Arthur. You are a great man and you will make a fantastic King.”

As the last words fell, she began to fade, slowly. But her skin was turning more translucent with every second. Arthur mourned all over again.

“Our time has run out, my boy, even our Merlin can only hold the connection so long. But I will always be here, should you need me.”

“I love you, mother.”

“I love you, too, Arthur.” Faint, but Arthur heard it.

Then, she was gone.

And now Arthur had to pick up the eight year old version of himself that was currently balled up in the center of his chest, and put him back where he goes. In a dark dusty corner of his mind.

It was quiet for a few moments.

The prince turned to find Merlin sat in the floor, the same spot he had been standing, on the other side of the room.

The manservant rose shakily.

“Well, that was…”

“Yeah, it was.” Arthur sighed, long and exhausted.

“Merlin, you are going to go tell my father that I have been unwell since supper last night. Then you will come back here.” Arthur began to unclad himself of belts and tunics.

“Tomorrow, we talk. Today, We are taking a well-deserved nap.”

“You’re inviting me to…take a nap with you.” The blonde could hear the smile creeping into Merlin’s voice as he spoke but decided he was too tired to scold him.

“Yes, Merlin. Or you’re welcome to go sleep in Gaius’ chambers with him banging beakers and books around all day. Be my guest.”

“I’ll be back in a flash, sire.”

Arthur turned just in time to see Merlin wink at him before leaving.

So, this was the new normal.

Arthur liked it.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Twin!AU Part 3:

Hunith and Uther alike have to face the consequences of their actions, Merlin (and everyone, really) decides that family doesn’t end in blood.

Part 1   Part 2

TW: Suicidal ideation (mostly past, but it sort of... flairs up a little here I guess)

Hunith’s face falls and she physically recoils at Merlin’s harsh declaration.

His hard gaze doesn’t leave her, even as she glances at Arthur, a little behind Merlin and to his side. The blonde has his gaze fixed on Hunith, but he looks away the moment they make eye contact, unable to stand the confused pain in her expression:

“Merlin? What happened?”

Lancelot and Percival approach slowly after handing the horses off to a couple of stablehands, and Gwaine puts his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, not that The Warlock notices; he clenches his jaw tightly before speaking, but continues resisting the urge to look away:

“You lied to me. About everything.”

Hunith’s eyes go wide and she gulps, opening her mouth and shutting it again as she struggles to think of a response. It’s then that Merlin finally looks away, gazing over the top of her head at the empty courtyard. Arthur quietly intervenes, his authoritative voice full of warring emotions despite it’s low volume:

“We should take this somewhere more private.”

Merlin doesn’t even nod, just turns around and walks back towards the castle, hands clenched tightly at his side before he pushes the doors open and stalks in without looking back. Gwaine and Arthur share a concerned look before the older knight rushes after him. Arthur gestures for Hunith to go first, but not without stopping her with a hand on her shoulder, and a muttered, almost teary:

“You had no right.”

Her face falls even further, but The Regent steps back and looks away before she can reply, and she timidly hurries through the door after Merlin and Gwaine. Arthur gives Lancelot and Percival a pointed look:

“I imagine we’ll be in my chambers, make sure we are undisturbed. I don’t want anyone interrupting unless the world is about to end. Let Leon and Morgana know that they can take charge of any meetings today.”

They both nod, but Lancelot jogs up the steps to stop Arthur before he can leave:

“I... know what she did was wrong, but don’t let Merlin be too harsh. He’s always been close to his mother, he’ll regret it later if he pushes her away completely.”

Arthur almost snaps out something about how Hunith isn’t Merlin’s mother, but he keeps it to himself, sighing and nodding:

“Yeah, I know, but she... she needs to know what this has done to him, how much he’s suffered needlessly because of this. There isn’t... I know she probably just did what she thought was right but... she needs to know. Merlin deserves an apology, and he certainly deserves the truth.”

Lancelot nods hesitatingly, but doesn’t say anything else, stepping aside to allow The Regent through. He catches up to the others just as Merlin slams the door open to his chambers, continuing to not look back as he heads over to the large dining table, leaning his hand against the back of one of the chairs and staring towards the window.

Gwaine and Arthur approach slowly, standing either side of him but not touching him as they wait in suspense for someone to start the conversation. Hunith already has tears in her eyes as she stands on the other side of the table, trying and failing to get Merlin to look at her. The harsh glare he laid on her before was horrific, but this... him being unable to look at her at all, that is worse:

“Merlin, please, I only did what-”

She’s cut off by Merlin’s harsh instruction:

“Sit.”

She glances to Arthur once more, but he just nods wordlessly at the chair in front of her; the only sounds in the room are the scraping of the chair on the stone floor and Merlin’s laboured breathing. He was evidently trying very hard to hold his anger in, and when he says nothing more once she’s sat down, Gwaine puts his hand back on his shoulder. He shrugs it off, finally turning to face Hunith but remaining unable to look in her eyes:

“Why?”

A tears slips loose from her eye and she sniffles, taking a deep, shaky breath and fiddling with her hands on the table. Arthur absent-mindedly wonders if Merlin would still do that too if he’d been raised with his actual family, if it was natural, or if he’d picked it up from her:

“Please, Merlin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

Merlin takes in a sharp breath, tightening his gip on the chair in a way that looks painful, shaking his head:

“No. No apologies, no excuses. I want to know exactly why you lied to me, why you took this from me.”

His voice is deadly in a quiet kind of way, like he could snap clean in two and set the world alight at any moment. Gwaine looks worriedly between the other two men, clearly thinking on the same lines as Lancelot, but neither of them notice, Merlin’s gaze stuck to the table and Arthur’s stuck on Hunith:

“I would have told you one day, Merlin, you-”

Merlin finally looks up at her, the blazing fury in his eyes contrasting in a rather horrific manner with the steady stream of tears on his cheeks:

“One day when? Arthur’s known about my magic for ages. I’ve been in Camelot for years, you have had every opportunity.”

Hunith lets out a low sob, but doesn’t look away:

“I didn’t think you were ready, Mer-”

Merlin bites his lip and turns away, running his hands through his hair harshly before turning around again, quick as lightening, and pointing an accusing finger at her:

“No, you weren’t ready! You weren’t ready to face the fact that you lied to me about who I am, because you knew you had no right, because you knew I would be angry!”

Hunith stands, but doesn’t make any moves to approach Merlin at Arthur’s harsh glare and Gwaine’s worried gesture. He doesn’t think Merlin or Arthur would hurt her, he’d never even consider the idea, but he knows that his partner needs space to be angry:

“I didn’t want you to be upset,-”

Merlin scoffs and lets out a sob of his own, wiping his face harshly before responding loudly:

“Gods, I wonder why I would be upset! Maybe because you lied to me about everything?!-”

Hunith shakes her head desperately, but Merlin carries on without pause:

“-You had no right to keep this from me! I grew up alone, with no one but you to rely on because you made me think I was some kind of beast! Keeping me from Camelot, I understand, keeping it from me as I child even, I understand. But you’ve had years of opportunity, you are selfish, a hypocrite and a coward.-”

Hunith looks horrified at his admission, mainly the sudden reveal at how her treatment of Merlin had effected him independently of the lie:

“-I hated myself, I was terrified, I didn’t want to exist, because of you! You made me think I was some kind of unnatural monster and then you sent me to Gaius under the guise of teaching me control, so he could carry on the lie for you! He promised me I wasn’t a monster, that I wasn’t born evil, over and over, but he’s lied to me from the moment I met him, how am I supposed to trust anything he says?! How am I supposed to trust anything you say when I was just some unwanted, throwaway thing that you never asked for, and got rid of at the earliest opportunity?!-”

Gwaine and Arthur stare at Merlin with matching heartbreak in their expressions; it seems that Merlin is upset at more than just the base lie. The New Prince doesn’t even try to stop the tears, his breathing quick and ragged, and after a few moments of thick silence, he takes a deep breath and quietly continues:

“-I didn’t have to be so alone, that was all you, and Gaius, and Kilgharrah, and everyone else who lied to me. When I had nothing, I had you, and you lied to me.-”

Merlin’s voice cracks, his breathing shaky and his face pale as his entire world seemingly crumbles down around him:

“-You took my brother from me and you had no right. You’re not my mother, you’re just as bad as Uther.”

With those last words, he storms from the room, Gwaine hot on his heels. Arthur stays however, feeling the need to comfort the crying woman, but also feeling, maybe slightly cruelly, that she deserves this. He sighs, pushing the though from his mind and moving around to put a hand on her shoulder as she buries her face in her hands, sobbing:

“I... you did your best, I think he knows that, but that doesn’t change what you took from him, from both of us. He needs time.”

She just about manages a nod, and Arthur sighs again, standing awkwardly for a few minutes before he realises she isn’t going to stop any time soon. He gently pushes her to sit back in the chair before heading to the door, following Gwaine and Merlin.

They’re not in the corridor when he shuts the door behind him, but he’s not surprised at that. Merlin has always been private about his true emotions, always kept them close to his chest, he wouldn’t want anyone to see him having a breakdown in the middle of the hall. Months ago, Arthur would have thought it was left over fear of his magic being discovered, but now he bitterly thinks that it probably has more to do with the way he was raised.

He runs a hand through his hair, sparing a glance to the—previously unnoticed—worried looking guards. Thankfully, they were two of the men that had been trusted with the truth (Arthur reminds himself to thank Leon later for paying attention to who was stationed where), so Arthur isn’t too worried at the fact that they had likely overheard the one-sided yelling match. He fixes them with a commanding stare and clears his throat:

“Escort the Lady Hunith to the physician’s chambers when she emerges, leave her with Gaius, but don’t rush her.-”

They bow briefly in acknowledgement of his orders, and his question comes out quietly:

“-Do you know where they went?”

They needn’t ask who, and one of the guards answers lowly, matching Arthur’s volume:

“I think they headed to Sir Gwaine’s chambers, Sire.” 

He nods and mutters a quiet thank you, slowly heading in that direction, knowing he had to go see them but also wanting to give them few extra minutes of privacy. They still had a lot to take care of, they’d missed several council meetings over the last few days, and whilst Arthur trusts Leon and Morgana to keep things rolling, he really should be making regular appearances. That, and they still haven’t dealt with Uther; to be perfectly honest, Arthur is surprised that rumours haven’t started spreading about The King’s disappearance and Arthur’s sudden growth of responsibilities, but he’s grateful. Don’t look a gift Griffin in the mouth or... something.

He finally stops outside the knight’s room—nodding at Lance who wordlessly stands guard in the corridor—before flinching at the quiet crying he can hear from inside. He knocks a few times softly before entering, shutting the door behind him and approaching the bed. Gwaine sits leant against the headboard, tears in his eyes as he holds a shaking Merlin in his arms. The Warlock lays besides Gwaine, in the middle of the bed, his face buried in the knight’s chest and his hands twisted into the fabric of his tunic.

Arthur lets out a deep, mournful breath at the sight of his brother so distraught, and he moves around to the other side of the bed, raising his eyebrow in question at Gwaine and settling next to Merlin at his singular nod. Merlin doesn’t seem to notice his presence, not until Arthur settles a hand on his back and whispers his name. He instantly calms a little, and Gwaine mentally scolds himself for the slight flair of jealousy; Merlin had discovered he has a brother, that his best friend is his brother, it’s no surprise that he calms easier in his presence, especially considering the reveal unburied so much hidden trauma.

After a few more minutes, Merlin turns to be laying on his back, though he makes sure to stay in Gwaine’s embrace. The knight leans down to press a kiss to the top of his head, and though he can’t see it, he can almost feel the slight smile on The Warlock’s face. Arthur moves his hand back to his lap, looking at the two of them out of the corner of his eye; he sees nothing but worry and utter adoration on Gwaine’s face, and he wonders just how he hadn’t approved of their relationship. Gwaine’s whispered words just solidify Arthur’s newfound belief in the man:

“I love you, Merls, no matter what.”

Merlin lets out a quiet, choked laugh, and Gwaine considers that a win, even more so when Merlin responds in kind:

“I love you.”

Despite their relationship not being a particularly new thing, Arthur hadn’t even considered the possibility that they’d reached that far, that their partnership was that solid; perhaps that had something to do with their general lack of PDA, which he had always wondered how Gwaine had put up with. He grimaces with a quiet realisation, but it catches Merlin’s gaze and he raises a questioning eyebrow, his tears thankfully dried. Arthur glances up at Gwaine, who smirks at him knowingly, before looking back down to his brother:

“Making you Crown Prince is something I’m actually quite looking forward to, but I’m going to have to crown Gwaine as well.”

Gwaine snorts in amusement but Merlin turns pink and coughs slightly:

“Well.. we haven’t really discussed marriage, Arthur.”

Arthur looks to him with an apologetic expression:

“Merlin, royals have different courting rules. Royal partnerships tend to be incredibly short before a marriage has to happen. Back when me and Gwen were courting, we hid not only because Uther wouldn’t have approved, but also because we didn’t want to rush things. I’m especially glad we did now, otherwise we would have had to be married by now. The whole kingdom know that you two have been together for at least a year, the moment you’re crowned...”

His voice trails off as he comes to a second, horrifying realisation. He stands from the bed and stares at Gwaine with wide eyes and a pale face:

“Oh my God. Oh my God. If neither me, you, or Morgana have children... once you two have been married... Gwaine will officially be third in line for the throne. Oh... fuck.”

Merlin and Gwaine freeze for just a moment before they burst into loud laughter, and Arthur shakes his head, pacing slightly and not paying attention to the knocking at the door. Lancelot walks in slowly, an amused smile of his face despite his confusion:

“Do I even want to ask?”

Arthur fixes him with an almost distraught gaze before glaring half-heartedly at Merlin:

“Why? Why couldn’t it have been Leon, or Lancelot?? Elyan or Percival?? Hell, I would have been happier with fucking George.”

Gwaine’s laughter gets even louder but Merlin calmly wipes the tears (of laughter, thankfully) from his face and looks to Lancelot with bitten lips and held in hysterics:

“Arthur just realised that once all the crowning ceremonies happen, Gwaine will be third in line for the throne, if I’m the last one to die and there aren’t any children.”

Lance’s eyes go wide and he clamps a hand over his moth in a poor attempt to hold in his laughter. He fails miserably, bursting just like Gwaine and Merlin had moments earlier. Arthur fixes an annoyed glare on him and waves a desperate hand:

“This is not funny.”

Gwaine just shakes his head as he finally manages to calm himself, wiping his face clean and sitting up straight, one hand still on Merlin’s shoulder:

“It’s hilarious, Princess. God imagine Geoffrey’s face. Imagine the council.”

Arthur just takes a deep breath and looks to the ceiling again:

“Fuck. Ok, alright, whatever. That is a problem for another time.-”

He looks back down to Merlin with an apologetic smile, after shooting one last withering glare at a still-smirking Gwaine:

“-You feeling up to council? I’ve missed a fair few, and I think it might be a good idea for you two to start making appearances as well. That and... as much as we’ve told them you have magic, it might be worth showing it off a little.-”

At Merlin’s wide, fearful eyes, Arthur holds his hands out placatingly and hurries to continue:

“-You don’t have to, but they're working on the ban repeal. Obviously not anything huge, but passing jugs or paper or whatever with magic might help desensitise them to the idea. Plus, now that you’re semi-officially royalty, and you have Gwaine or Leon trailing you almost everywhere, no one would dare attack you. And if they do, you have every right to defend yourself in whatever capacity you deem necessary.”

At Merlin’s still nervous face, Lancelot quickly tacks on:

“And they all know that Arthur would go ape-shit if anything were to happen to you.”

Arthur gestures at the knight and nods in agreement, nodding further at Gwaine’s quiet “He’s not the only one.” . Merlin takes a deep breath and shuffles off the bed, standing and straightening his clothes out with unsteady hands:

“Let’s go. You’re right, I’m going to have to get used to stupid council meetings at some point if you’re insisting on crowning me, might as well be now.”

Arthur and Lancelot smile proudly and Gwaine moves to stand at his side, straightening his own clothes before running his hands through Merlin’s hair, flattening and neatening it. Merlin stands still and lets himself be assessed and fixed with a soft smile on his face, and Arthur feels almost as if he were intruding on something personal and domestic, even more so than when they were professing their love for each other; he looks away awkwardly and Lancelot raises an amused eyebrow at him.

The four of them finally exit the room, Arthur and Merlin falling into step besides each other, Gwaine slightly behind them, and Lancelot trailing the three of them with his face pulled into a blank mask and his hand on his sword.

This time, there is no hesitation before they enter the council room, and no raised eyebrows when Merlin takes his rightful place alongside Arthur at the head of the table. Flanked by Morgana, Leon, Lancelot, and Gwaine, Arthur effortlessly takes control of the meeting, hurrying things along with a proud confidence and an easy authority that was slowly but surely being taken on by his brother, at his side.

~

The council session lasts for the remainder of the day, and though at least half of the councilmen yelp, Gaius obviously not included, when Merlin first starts floating things about or magically highlighting words or moving the room’s lighting around with a flick of his wrist, most of them are used to it by the time the sun touches the horizon.

Arthur finally calls an end to the meeting when it gets dark. Though he was in a slightly manic mood and desperate to get as much work done as possible now that he was actually free to attend meetings, he could see that the others, Merlin especially, were flagging. He knew it would happen eventually, he can’t imagine The Warlock has been sleeping much, and he definitely came to some sort of private, horrifying conclusion around half a candle-mark ago. The hitch in Merlin’s breath, the widening of his eyes, and the slight, tiny flair of every candle in the room thankfully went unnoticed by everyone bar Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot.

When the room empties of councilmen, Merlin stands and paces away from the table, hands fiddling roughly with his sleeves. Arthur waves Morgana and Leon away, thanking them briefly before nodding pointedly at the door. Lancelot follows shortly, and Arthur has half a mind to send Gwaine away as well, but he knows that would be somewhat selfish as the other man approaches his partner’s turned back:

“Merlin? Something wrong? I thought that went remarkably well.”

Merlin’s head turns quickly, his furrowed brows confused:

“What? What went well?”

Gwaine raises an eyebrow, glancing briefly at the neatly stacked paperwork on the table:

“The meeting? About planning your coronation and the legalisation of magic? That we’ve been in all afternoon?”

Merlin untenses slightly, turning around properly and using one hand to rub at his eyes tiredly:

“Oh, yeah right. It did go well. They didn’t freak out too much at my evil sorcery, did they?”

He tries to go for a joking smirk, but it falls flat, and Arthur walks towards him to put a hand on his brother’s shoulder:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin sags even more and Arthur quickly steps forward, gathering the suddenly distraught man in a tight hug. Merlin easily accepts, burying his face in Arthur’s neck and clutching the back of his tunic with shaking hands:

“I compared my mother to Uther. I told her it was her fault that I didn’t want to be alive. She’s never going to forgive me.”

Arthur shuts his eyes, stroking a hand through Merlin’s hair and muttering a quiet:

“Oh, Merlin, she loves you more than anything in this world, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Merlin doesn’t look up, but shakes his head roughly; before he can argue, Gwaine steps around the two of them, pressing a kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck before stepping back and stroking a soft hand over his back:

“What she did was wrong, Merls, you’re allowed to be angry. And now you’re not so angry anymore you can go sit down with her and talk it out, ok? There was no way that first conversation was going to be anything other than difficult and heartbreaking, but you got through it, and now you can sort it out properly.”

Merlin relaxes just a touch, and Arthur gets the disturbing feeling swelling in his gut that Gwaine knew of Merlin’s (hopefully, former) despairs before the whole... twin thing. When The Warlock finally pulls away, he thankfully looks a little more confident, despite the drying tears on his cheeks; Arthur gives him a soft smile and nods towards the door:

“Tonight, or tomorrow?”

Merlin takes a deep, fortifying breath, and walks towards the door purposefully, wiping his face clean before taking Gwaine’s offered hand in his own:

“Tonight, now. I should... I need to talk to Gaius as well. I’ve been unfairly punishing him for long enough, I think.”

Gwaine smiles understandingly, though Arthur, who rushes to catch up and walk on Merlin’s other side, shakes his head with a frown:

“Not unfairly, Merlin. It would be well within your rights to cut them out of your life for the foreseeable future for this. But I also understand wanting to forgive them so you have more... support. They may not be blood, Merlin, but... they are family, and that’s ok.”

Gwaine gives him an annoyed look at his first words, over Merlin’s shoulder, but doesn’t say anything. Merlin stops in the middle of the hallway, suddenly and without warning, and Gwaine grunts slightly when his arm is pulled back. The Warlock spares him an apologetic smile before turning his gaze to Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow, but Merlin tilts his head and frowns:

“Arthur you do know that... I consider you family above all others, right? you’re right, family doesn’t have to be blood,-”

He squeezes Gwaine’s hand, almost subconsciously, and receives a gentle squeeze back:

“-but after what we’ve found out, after all of this, all that we’re doing to... fix it, to fix what was done to us... you’re everything, you’re my brother. Me forgiving Hu... my mother, and Gaius, doesn’t change that I trust you above them, I consider you before them. They’re family, but you’re family first.”

Arthur’s eyes widen slightly at Merlin’s stern assertion, but he wills the tears in his eyes to disappear as he nods once, his jaw clenched with emotion. Merlin smirks slightly and rolls his eyes, muttering something about an “emotionally repressed idiot” before pulling him into an eagerly returned hug. Gwaine just snorts at both of them, happily leaning against the wall with crossed arms as he waits. They pull away fairly quickly, hyper aware of the fact that they were in the middle of the corridor, and whilst basically the whole citadel had picked up on the fact that something had changed, is changing, they didn’t want to let on too much until official public announcements were made.

They hurry in their journey to the Physician’s chambers, it was getting late and they wanted to sort this out as soon as possible; Gods know Merlin isn’t going to sleep a wink until he's spoken to his mother again.

They pause momentarily outside the door, taking deep breaths as they attempt to block out the hushed conversations coming from inside, not wanting to eavesdrop. Merlin turns to Gwaine with a nervous frown:

“Would you mind... waiting out here? Just for a minute?”

Gwaine gives him a soft smile and nods, pressing a kiss to his forehead and muttering “Call for me when you want me to come in, alright? I’m not going anywhere.” before giving Arthur an encouraging clap on the shoulder and stepping back to lean against the opposite wall.

Arthur sends a grateful smile the knight’s way, receiving a respectful nod in return, before he turns to the door. After a nod from Merlin, he raises a hand that shakes only slightly, and knocks. The murmured conversations stop immediately, and Gaius’ voice calls out:

“Enter.”

With one last look to each other, the brothers open the door and walk in together, shutting it gently behind them and turning to face the shocked pair. Hunith stares at Merlin with tears in her hopeful eyes, but Gaius quickly clears his throat and stands straight:

“How can I help, My Lords?”

Arthur sighs and Merlin shakes his head at the Physician’s formal address of them, rubbing a tired hand over his eyes before taking a small step forward :

“Don’t... I’m not... just Merlin, please.-”

His voice is quiet and tired, and the pleading tone it takes on deepens Arthur’s frown. He lets out a shaky breath, biting his lip before looking up to Hunith and continuing:

“-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled. And I didn’t have any right to say those things; you’re... you’re nothing like Uther, and you did your best in a terrifying situation. You didn’t know any better, I shouldn’t blame you for how I turned out.”

Hunith’s tears overflow once again, and she takes in a shuddering breath as she steps hesitatingly towards the Warlock:

“Oh, my boy, you were right. I wasn’t ready to lose you, and I let that fear overcloud my judgement of what I knew to be right. I’m so sorry sweetheart, I should have told you who you were a long time ago, and it wasn’t fair of me to expect Gaius to carry on the lie, especially when you met Arthur, and especially when he found out about your magic.”

With that, Merlin pulls her into a tight hug, height difference be damned as he buries his face in her neck and shakes. Arthur gulps as he looks upon the scene, sharing a small, mournful smile with Gaius, the Physician understanding The Regent’s forgiveness in the small nod of his head. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as Arthur was expecting, though he supposes that forgiveness is more than just saying it aloud, and Merlin still has a great deal of self-worth related issues to get over, thanks to Hunith’s overly cautious raising of the boy. The Warlock clears his throat, his hands still on his mother’s shoulders as he gives her a weak smile:

“Igraine says thank you, by the way, for raising me with so much love.”

Hunith lets out a small chuckle, wiping away Merlin’s tears with soft hands:

“It was my honour,  I’m glad that your... mother, is pleased.”

Merlin’s frown is brief, and he responds quickly:

“You’re my mother.”

Hunith’s smile grows, as does Merlin’s and she nods shakily, almost whispering:

“Ok... I... ok.”

Merlin lets go hesitatingly, but turns to Gaius after a moment or two. The Physician quickly interrupts anything the younger man could have said with a shake of his head and a soft smile, pulling him into a hug as he softly speaks:

“It’s alright, my boy. You were well within your rights to be angry, we had no right to lie to you in such a way.”

With Gaius and Merlin’s soft conversation happening to the side of the room, Hunith turns to Arthur with a hopeful smile on her face. He returns it faintly, and she pulls him into his own hug. He stiffens in her hold, wide eyes darting around the room as he clenches his hands at his side. It only takes her stroking a hand through his knotted hair for him to relax and hug her back:

“I’m honoured to have been able to raise your brother, Arthur, and I am sorry for keeping him from you for so long, it was selfish of me. I didn’t consider what you were losing, in not knowing that you weren’t alone, only what I would lose should I tell the truth.”

Arthur gulps and nods, but tightens his hold on her as the tears come to his eyes:

“It’s... ok. I understand, I think. The danger you put yourself in to raise and protect him was immense, I just wished I’d known sooner, so I could have done all of this sooner.”

They pull back, but Hunith keeps a tight hold on Arthur’s shoulders, an assessing frown on her face as she raises a hand to cup his cheek. Arthur leans into it, blushing slightly under her motherly gaze:

“I know. But you’re doing wonderfully, Arthur. You and Merlin will be the saviours of this Kingdom, I’m sure of it. Your mother would be so proud of you.”

A tear slips loose from Arthur’s eye as he harshly bites his lip. His voice comes out small and unsure, and Hunith has to resist the urge to pull him into another hug:

“You think?”

She just smiles and nods instead:

“I’m sure.”

Merlin and Gaius look upon the scene fondly, and Arthur’s blush deepens when he catches them staring. He steps back from Hunith who smirks at him knowingly as he frowns at Merlin:

“Shut up, Merlin.”

He just laughs and shakes his head:

“I always knew you had a soft spot for my mum.”

The Regent shakes his head and rolls his eyes, ignoring Merlin’s continued laughter:

“Either of you eaten? I’m starved.”

Gaius and Hunith’s smiles come a lot easier at that, and they shake their heads. Arthur leads the way out of the chambers, smiling and nodding at Gwaine’s raised eyebrow. The knight returns the smile, quickly sidling up to Merlin and re-taking his hand as Arthur speaks:

“I’ll let the kitchens know to have five meals sent up to my chambers, I’ll see you there in a moment.”

They part ways in the corridor, all of them with easy smiles and lighter hearts, especially when Gwaine eagerly regales his interpretation of Arthur’s reaction to having to crown him.

~

The next morning was once again tense. Arthur’s assertion late last night that he intended to finally deal with Uther weighs heavy in everyone’s minds.

Hunith and Gaius are once again tucked safely into the Physician’s chambers, and all of the King’s most trusted knights are called to stand guard in the corridor. Merlin and Arthur wear their smart clothes (a suggestion by Morgana that Gwaine thought was funny enough that he begged and begged until Merlin gave in), and they take in with them Leon and Morgana. 

Uther looks manic, his hair unkept, his face unshaven. His clothes are clean at least, but they’re rumpled, likely due to the near constant pacing of the former King. The room is dark, the curtains obviously haven’t been opened in several days, but the dim candles highlight the mess throughout the room. Uther may still be being passed meals by the guards, but out of concern for the staff’s safety, no servants were granted access to tidy or otherwise serve. 

His head whips around when the door opens, his enraged face turning red at the four people stood smartly by his door. He storms towards them, but Morgana, no longer scared of the consequences, holds a hand out and mutters a few golden words, halting him in his tracks. He apparently hasn’t lost his voice though, as he turns to Merlin:

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY DAUGHTER?! YOU-”

Merlin rolls his eyes and clicks his fingers, his eyes also turning golden as Uther’s mouth shuts with a clack. Leon manages to hold his smirk in, just stands still as the perfect guard, his hand on the hilt of his sword, but Morgana doesn’t even try, smiling openly. Merlin holds Uther’s furious gaze for a few more moments before looking to Arthur at his side, tilting his head in question. The Regent nods at him before stepping forward, his back straight and his face and voice Kingly:

“You will listen, and you will listen well, because I will not repeat myself. You are the only abomination in this room, and you will live with that for the rest of your days. How long that is, is up to you. I am Regent, soon enough I will be King, Myrddin will be Crown Prince, and Morgana will be Princess; when that happens, magic will finally be fully legalised, and the public will be made aware of your crimes. I will not hide things from my people, not like you have. No matter what you deserve, I struggle to bring myself to sentence you to execution, and you’ll be humiliated to learn, I imagine, that Merlin argued in favour of letting you keep your head when I brought it up.-”

Uther glances angrily at Merlin, but looks back to Arthur when he realises that he’s still incapable of speaking:

“-Therefor your options are as follows: You may go to the summer home on the coast, where you will be under constant guard, but will otherwise have a semi-free life. You will stay in Camelot, but live out the remainder of your days in this room only. Or me and Merlin will take a week long trip away to, say, Nemeth, whilst Princess Morgana and Sir Leon announce, organise, and undergo your execution. You have today to decide, we’ll be back this evening.”

Arthur doesn’t bother waiting for a reaction, turning his back on Uther and gesturing the others to lead the way through the door. He pauses momentarily, one hand on the door frame as he turns back, a mournful frown on his face as he quietly speaks:

“If you had just told the truth, if you had just owned up to making a mistake, you, me, Myrddin, Morgana, we... we could have been a family. You’re the one that ruined that, you’re the one that tore us apart, and I swear to you now, that whatever option you pick, I will never forgive you.”

That only seems to enrage Uther more, but Arthur isn’t quite sure why he bothered to hope for another reaction. He shuts the door behind him, waving at Merlin to reset the magical locks as he sighs and rubs tired hands over his face:

“Well at least that’s over and done with.”

Leon pats him on the shoulder consolingly, and Elyan raises an eyebrow, glancing around at the others and sighing when he realises no one else is going to ask:

“He didn’t take it well then, I’m guessing?”

Arthur takes a deep breath and stands straight, shaking his head. Morgana is the one to answer however, and Arthur appreciates the way she makes a genuine attempt to keep the humour out of her voice:

“No, he wasn’t best pleased, but I think he’s accepted that he has well and truly lost this battle. Something he’s not entirely used to, I suppose.”

The knights nod in understanding, and Merlin lets out a deep breath, tilting his head slightly:

“Weird to think that he’s my... dad... ugh.”

They all chuckle at that, even Arthur, though they all stop with concerned frowns when Merlin suddenly straightens up with wide eyes and an open mouth:

“Oh... my God... how did I...- What?!”

Arthur puts a hand on his shoulder, his frown deepening:

“Merls?”

The Warlock just ignores him, turning to Morgana with still wide eyes:

“You’re my sister! I’ve been focusing so much on how Arthur’s my brother that I didn’t even consider the fact that you’re my sister!”

Morgana takes in a sudden breath, and all bar Leon (who just raises an eyebrow and then rolls his eyes when he realises that he’s the only one unsurprised by this) stare at the two of them in shock. Morgana slowly pulls Merlin into a hug, and the two of them clutch each other tightly as a grin grows on Arthur’s face. Leon gives him another clap on the back, this one more congratulatory (if a little confused. Honestly, how did they miss that?), and the others cheer just as Gwen turns the corner into the corridor. She smiles confusedly at Merlin and Morgana, still hugging, as she sidles up to Leon, whispering:

“What’s the occasion? They find Uther dead?”

Leon laughs but shakes his head, leaning down to mutter his response:

“They only just now figured out that they’re siblings.”

She looks up to him quickly with a disbelieving raise of the eyebrows:

“Wait, just now as in, just now?-”

Leon smirks and nods firmly, and Gwen shakes her head as she laughs:

“-It’s been almost a week.”

Leon laughs as well leaning against the wall as the others chatter excitedly among themselves:

“Yeah, apparently you and I are the only ones who had considered the idea. These are all the smartest people I’ve ever come across...”

He trails off, but Gwen looks up at him with a teasing smirk:

“And yet sometimes...?”

They both laugh quietly, shaking their heads when Percival catches their eyes and tilts his head in question.

The group walks away soon enough, heading to one of the smaller dining rooms for an early lunch and a chance to discuss their intentions for this afternoon’s council meeting. Morgana, Merlin, and Arthur walk together, and conversation flows between all bar Gwaine, who stares at the back of his now betrothed’s head with the quiet adoration and lowly simmering excitement of someone that knew the man he loves is finally getting all that he deserves.

~

END of Part 3!!!

Part 4 will be VERY short. Will be just about post coronation and public announcement, will probably contain Merwaine’s wedding, some casual magic, some more family bonding.

I hope y’all enjoyed this!!! I wrote it surprisingly quickly once I set my mind to it

[the-kingshound]

The third Arch Deleted Scene

The snippet here is a bit rushed at the beginning and in some other parts, as I did not want to go into even more spoiler territory. If you want to send me asks about this please be sure to advertise them as spoiler at the beginning, since not everyone will want to read them.

SPOILER

TW: blood, injury, poisoning, strong language.

3rd Arch – the seventh Trial

 Your stomach was knotted by dark swirling anxiety from the moment Arthur announced the diplomatic visit. You were familiar with the House, it kept being, after all, one of the most influent beside yours before and after the Emperor’s fall. This did not mean anything, though. Your homeland was beautiful but deadly, ready to swallow anyone whole to quickly digest them.

You promised yourself you were going to be at Arthur’s side at all times, and that’s precisely what you are doing now.

 Four days in, and the only major threat has been the amount of people wanting to interact with you. For the most part, Arthur smoothly deflects them to himself, for which you are endlessly grateful. You’re not in the mood to socialize, instead you keep on high alert, especially against the House leader and formal Ambassador.

You do not think he will pull anything while you’re here, after all you grew up together and you respected each other deeply, but one cannot be too cautious when the King is concerned – as demonstrated by the multiple scars that litter your body. You would go through all of it again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping your King safe, but all you can do for now is stay by his side and keep the risks at minimum.

For this reason, when the Ambassador proposes a meal together with both yours and his knights, you are instantly weary.

“I don’t like this one bit, Arthur.”

“Me neither,” agrees Evaine, all the while lazily making their dagger spin on the table.

“I don’t deny that is not an ideal situation. On the other hand, a wrong move on their part would jeopardise their own negotiation,” counters Arthur as Morien finally snaps, blocking Evaine’s wrist with a tight grip and hissing an irritated “stop fooling around, for God’s sake!”

Evaine pouts. Yniol ignores them in favour of the matter at hand “they are certainly going to outnumber us, but if they wanted to attack us head on they would have done so before now, there were better opportunities. MC?”

You really think it through before answering “I wouldn’t put it past the Ambassador to try something, direct or more subtle, while we’re so exposed and out of our physician. Lania is not the head of his House for nothing, but aside from that he was always particularly attached to the Empire. We can’t afford to underestimate him.”

“Yes, yes” interjects Morien, having by now freed Evaine’s hand and left the table, dismissing themselves from the meeting “I’ll be prepared in any case. I swear you manage to hurt yourselves everywhere we go.”

And so dinner begins. It is a boring affair, but you won’t let yourself relax until it’s over. You sip on your wine, closely inspecting the hosts for any sudden or unusual movement. You find none, but you stiffen and your brows furrows. There’s something strange in your mouth, something strangely… bitter.

Time seems to freeze in front of your eyes. With an uncoordinated, panicked movement you jerk on the table and bat away Arthur’s cup, spilling its content on the table.

You place your hand on the table to support you as you rise, your dilatated pupils numbly fixed on the red liquid that’s quickly staining the tablecloth. It feels like an hour but actually only a second has passed before you regain your senses.

“Seize them.”

Arthur and his Knights are no longer seated by now, but the Ambassador’s men have drawn their weapons as well and pointed them to your delegacy, effectively halting their movements. You see icy red and do not spare another glance at the man now placed on your back while you snarl in the envoy direction.

Placing your fingers on the hilt of your sword, you hiss an enchantment to track the magic residue and the culprit is revealed in front of your eyes. Ignoring the taste of iron on your tongue, you spit out another enchantment and the room’s door is locked close with a lout snap. They will not get away.

Unfortunately, you lack the ability to free Arthur and the Knights, you are now surrounded and painfully outnumbered, but you know they can hold on until you have taken care of the threat at hand. You cough blood and half crash on the floor, but you ignore the alarmed voices of your Knights and crawl in the Ambassador’s direction.

How dare he. How dare.

“My, Lord…”

“Let them,” a voice says to your back “they will not go far.”

“How dare you” your breaths are ragged, your intestines raw and burning, your voice rough for the acid that invades your throat. The Ambassador’s face is a mask of contempt and stony resolution. He watches, halting his men while they try to block you, as you half-crawl to him, gripping with iron strength the wooden chairs to keep yourself upright.

“I have the upper hand, King Arthur. I’m afraid you are in no position to make such demands.”

“Release us, and call a physician for my spouse, and I will consider letting this incident go without consequences.”

Arthur’s voice is steady, calm and there is only a hint of something sharper, at least for now.

You can’t see your King, but the sound of his voice sends shivers down your spine. They tried to kill him. The House you grew up to respect is full of nothing more than vile traitors.

As your strength start to waver, you lose your balance and crush to the ground with the chair you were pushing your weight on. Still, you get up again and you and fix your gaze on the second born, now Ambassador and traitor “I’ve had enough of you.”

You take a shuddering breath, your lungs filled with blood that’s now spilling over to your lips as you speak, but the pain you feel is nothing compared to the hot, blinding rage that’s consuming your every thought. Still, your voice is, as ever, cutting cold “you invite us here, offering a pacific discussion, and all you provide are poison in our drinks and weapons against my Knights and my King’s throat. You’ve exhausted my patience, Lania.”

You see him flinch at the use of his name. You remember a time long gone when you played together as kids, swearing you would be the ones to restore the Empire uniting your two Houses. Now these are broken promises and rotten friendships.

“MC,” the Ambassador says, “it’s over, you have to understand that.”

“Oh, you just wait,” interjects Evaine, almost immediately silenced by the Ambassador’s men.

You cough and choke on blood, and you can feel the physical weight of Arthur’s and the Knights’ worried eyes on your back, but you exhale and grip tighter your sword’s hilt. A wave of raw power invades your body and you are able to focus again.

“You know what I’m capable of, what I am willing to do for my King,” your voice is almost devoid of intonation, save for unforgiving hardness. His gaze falls on your non dominant arm and then on your throat, scarred by a thin horizontal line “I will gut you and feed you to my hounds. You’ll die like the backstabbing coward you are.”

They know as well as you do that you don’t make empty promises. There is a rustle around you that culminates in a sharp sigh from the Ambassador and swords pointed at your neck.

“Must we really do this, MC? I cared for you once, but you know that I will not hesitate to strike you down if you give me reason to do so.”

You don’t draw black nor move a single muscle, your eyes find Arthur’s blue ones and you find the King is dangerously immobile, his fingers brushing against Excalibur’s hilt in what could be mistaken for a soothing caress. When he speaks, his voice bears nothing else but firm command “you will not do that.”

Lania cocks his head to the side, appearing quite unbothered “oh?”

“How is your sister, Ambassador?”

At the same time as Lania stills, you blink. A violent cough than shakes your chest, and when your senses are fully back and you can breathe again Arthur has kept going with the same calm, calculated demeanor “I want to remind you that together with the Lord the wedded she’s now head of the Merthian feud, the nearer one to the south-eastern border.”

“What does it-“

“I am the one in control of the knights tasked with their protection. As per the arrangement we signed weeks ago, the border is under Camelot’s defence. But if I die, or if my spouse dies, my knights will retire, Ambassador.”

Oh, Arthur is not King for nothing. He is striking where it hurts the most – family – without even an drop of blood shed. You don’t hide a proud, feral smile at this. Almost immediately, blood invades your throat again, you can feel its taste on your togue, but you shove the pain back where it started in your burning stomach. You shiver. You love and hate seeing your King like this.

Lania swiftly unsheathe a long, curved dagger and you are immediately ready to bolt– swords to your throat be damned, you’ve had worse – but he makes no move in Arthur’s direction for now.

“Figured you had to hit low to get a reaction.”

“Release us,” Yniol commands, standing tall near the King.

“No” spits out Lania, his composure now fully broken “you stole our independence and our pride, Pendragon, you humiliated us and stripped our Houses of the opportunity to unite again. You are every bit of your father’s blood!”

He then turns to you, his eyes frantic, his expression pained and almost feral “I thought you were on my side!”

Blood rushes to your ears, a high-pitched whistle the only thing you’re able to hear at the moment. You feel sick. Sicker than before – sicker than what you’ve felt in years. You spit blood on the floor, your answer is weak and unnaturally subdued, “it was a- a long time ago.”

“We were like siblings!”

You can’t say anything, you only choke on your words. All that you manage to do is keep yourself upright only thanks to your sword.

“They are right, you really are your King’s hound, nothing more than Camelot’s bitch,” he tries the next word in his mouth like they were both foul and inevitable “the haghàn bajek*.”

Your vision is overcome by whit spots, your skin hot and freezing cold.

“Kill them all.”

You force yourself to focus. Protect your Knights. Protect your King.

After that it is pure, unbidden chaos. You tighten your grip on your sword, assessing where you’re needed the most. With the corner of your eye you spot Arthur, he’s a beautiful fighter, he is no match for – Lania.

Your magic flares alongside most of your nerve endings as you sprint in his direction, interjecting his blow with your own weapon. Unfortunately, the Ambassador is a skilled opponent and you’re already considerably weakened, all you can do is channel in your arms the strength of your steel determination to not let him reach your King.

“Stop trying to defend an enemy, MC!”

“Stop trying… to kill him.”

You are barely managing to defend yourself when Lania strikes back. You catch the dagger with your arm, it pierces through your skin just over your elbow but it won’t reach its intended target. No one will hurt your King while you’re still breathing. No one.

Pain paralyzes your arm, your breath is stuck in your throat together with a blood clot that feels intrusive and that fills you with panic. The finishing blow never comes, though. As you inhale again, you refocus on the room’s occupants and notice how Arthur’s Knights have the clear upper hand.

“Ah, and you thought you could beat the Round Table so easily,” Evaine all but purrs in a knight’s ear “that’s precious.”

“Stand down” Gawaine commands “you’re surrounded.”

You can hardly distinguish the shapes of your own knights, you’re nauseous, your stomach and throat are on fire. You fall down on your knees, exhausted and hurt. You feel like you’re going to throw up–

“MC’”

Where is Lania, where is –  

“Wh-where…?”

“Kai, get Morien here, please.”

Arthur’s voice is soothing, as ever, but tainted with worry. You can’t make his face out. There are arms supporting your weight, not his but equally familiar – Yniol?

“It’s going to be alright, dear.”

It’s the last thing you hear before the world goes black.

  *haghàn bajek = [REDACTED] traitor

[littlestarofthewest]

Forever ago request that I started long ago and finally finished. Hope you'll see this, anon.

Title: Saved by the Bell | Words: 2,611 | Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Arthur x female reader

You can't exactly tell when it started; you just know it's getting worse. For a few weeks now, you and Arthur have been dancing around each other, making jokes and comments that aren't solely friendly. You also don't remember who started it, but now that you're both in it, neither of you wants to give in and stop. 

Somehow, Arthur always manages to do his work right in front of you, often needlessly shirtless, giving you a good look at his muscular body. In turn, you bend over way more than necessary, not caring if your clothes stay in place, exposing your cleavage or legs up to your thighs. 

Today, it's one of those days again. Arthur is chopping wood, always in your frame of vision, once again refusing to wear a shirt. He only stops when you use helping Pearson as an excuse to lick your fingers clean at every chance you get. 

Arthur disappears after that. You see him again when you're down by the river to clean some clothes. He washes barely a few steps away from you. Unlucky for him, you're not the most squeamish when it comes to cold water. Only dressed in your chemise, you don't care how the stream soaks the fabric, making it cling to your thighs. 

By the time Arthur walks over to you, you managed to get a few splashes of water on your chest as well, letting your breasts shine through like a beacon in the night. Arthur's eyes clearly rest there for a moment before he looks at your face.

"Charles said you wanted to come on our next hunting trip. That true?" he asks.

"Sure, why wouldn't I?"

"Lots of wild animals out there. It's pretty dangerous."

You know he doesn't mean that. After all, you've been out with them before. The whole conversation is just another way of teasing you. Arthur is standing way closer than he has to or does with the other girls. Droplets of water are still searching their way through the hair on his chest to run down over his stomach before they find their end at the hem of his jeans, not allowed to venture any deeper. Just like your gaze.

After weeks and weeks of this, it begins to annoy you. "You know, the chance of being ravished by some wild beast out there doesn't scare me at all. In fact, it would be a nice change of pace."

Arthur needs a moment to process your answer, and something in his face and posture shifts. "Are you sure? You could get hurt."

He sounds way too serious, and maybe you should get to the bottom of it, but you're out of patience. You get up and pick up the basket with the clothes before leaning over to Arthur. "I'm tired of the chase, Arthur. If you want your prey, you shoot it, or you don't. You don't make it run until it wants to throw itself off a cliff just to put an end to it."

Arthur opens his mouth but doesn't say anything. At that moment, you decide that you don't want a man who can't be honest about what he wants. You gave Arthur enough hints, making clear that you wouldn't be opposed to taking it a step further with him. If he can't act on that, then you'll call it quits. 

"Maybe I'll find someone else to hunt with," you say, walking away. For a brief moment, you have a flicker of hope that Arthur might hold you back, but the silence behind you is absolut. It's over.

[Line Break]

A week later, Arthur and Micah bring in a big score. They're the most unlikely pair out there, but Arthur is also the only one who can keep Micah in check aside from Dutch. Arthur chooses to work with him, so nobody else has to.

It's barely past noon, but a little celebration is born. People are singing and drinking, and while you're usually not much into booze, you make an exception this time. Micah, on the other hand, gets drunk faster than anybody else. That's probably why he tries to talk to you at all. You could never stand him and made that so clear that even a thickhead like Micah accepted that he should avoid you. Today, he seems to have forgotten all about that.

"Come on, doll. We've just gotten off to a bad start. I'm sure we can become friends."

The way he lets his eyes roam over your body makes it pretty clear that being friends is the last thing on his mind. Usually, you would have told him to get lost, but Arthur is walking over to get another beer, and an evil voice inside you tells you to get even. 

"Friends, huh?" you say, reaching for the collar of Micah's shirt. You straighten it before running your fingers over his skin, playing with the little hairs on Micah's chest. "That all?"

Micah grins, trying to puff himself up. Instead, he sways dangerously, barely able to stand upright. "Oh, I can be more than that. Say the word, and I'll show you a good time."

It's not lost on you that Arthur hasn't moved from his spot. He's just standing there, listening in on your conversation. "Tell you what," you say, leaning over to Micah and dropping your voice, "I'll think about it, but you have to do a lot better than this."

Arthur drops the bottle he's holding, but Micah pays him no mind, too occupied with you. "Let's go right now."

"Get sober first," you say and push Micah, making him fall flat on his ass. You walk away, hearing Micah laugh behind you.

You hope that he's forgotten all about this when he wakes up. You don't have the nerve to keep him off your back again, but Arthur's reaction was worth it. 

Not in the mood to participate in the festivities, you grab a basket from Pearson's wagon before venturing into the woods to find berries or mushrooms. The sun drops down through the trees, basking even the darkest places in a warm light. The bushes hang ripe with berries and picking a few, you wish everything was that easy.

You're about to move on when you hear something behind you. Pulling your knife out, you whisk around, the basket dropping to the floor. Arthur is coming out from behind a few trees, lifting up his hands as he sees you. "Just me."

"Why are you following me?"

"I was just heading into the woods," Arthur grunts. "Is that a crime now?"

You put away your knife and drop to your knees to collect the scattered berries. Arthur moves over to help you, annoying you even more. You can't be angry at him for being nice.

"Cowardice should be a crime," you murmur under your breath. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see how Arthur clenches his jaw, fighting not to give you an answer. Two berries later, he loses the battle. "I'm not a coward."

"If you say so."

"I'm not afraid," Arthur huffs, "just because I'm not an asshole like Micah."

You grab one of the berries so hard that it crushes in your hand. "At least he wants me and acted on it."

"Who says I don't want you?" Arthur hisses.

Your faces are only inches apart now, and you stay there to hold your ground. "If you want me, Arthur, you have to take me. You can't-"

You don't get a chance to finish the sentence. Arthur closes the gap between you and presses a hard kiss on your lips. At first, you're too stunned to react, but then you throw your arms around Arthur's neck, eager for more.

Spurred on by your reaction, Arthur moves closer, and you topple over into the grass, Arthur on top of you. He kisses you open-mouthed and sloppy, his hands digging into your sides. It's almost painful, but you can't hold back either, running your hands over his chest.

While opening his shirt, you rip off a button, and it flies away into the bushes, never to be seen again. Arthur kisses along your neck while his hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts. You arch your back, pressing up against him, and Arthur opens your dress. With quick fingers, he manages to work it down enough to expose you and leans in to kiss every inch he can reach. You thread your fingers into Arthur's hair and can't help that you pull on it when he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. 

"Finally," you gasp, and Arthur reaches down to pull up your dress.

His hand immediately goes to your center, his hand sneaking into your underwear to tease your pussy. With how long you've been waiting for this and the rough treatment of Arthur now, it's no surprise that you're soaking wet for him, and Arthur moans against your skin at the touch.

"You really want to get ravished, huh?" he murmurs, and this time you pull his hair on purpose. 

"You really should listen better."

"Fine," Arthur grunts, something in his voice that makes your skin tingle in anticipation. "Turn around."

He gives you free and helps you along, rolling you onto your stomach. "Arthur, what-?"

You can't finish the question and let out a surprised squeal when Arthur grabs you by the waist and lifts you up, forcing you to go on all fours. He pushes your skirt up with the same enthusiasm as before and pulls down your underwear, just enough to have access. 

For a moment, you can't feel Arthur but hear him rummaging around with his own clothes. Then, a warm hand finds your thigh, the touch setting butterflies free in your stomach. Arthur might talk about ravishing you, but doesn't have it in him to hurt you, still way more careful than you're used to.

He moves closer, making you feel his heat as he brushes his cock along your wet folds before pushing in. You claw your fingers into the ground under you as Arthur stretches you open, pushing in deep until he draws a soft cry from your lips. He stills then, hesitating once more.

"Arthur, please," you say, pushing back against him, "more."

Finally, Arthur moves with more confidence. He thrusts into you while his fingers dig into your hips, holding on to you for leverage. Knowing that you're not that far from camp, you try your best to stay quiet, but with the way Arthur treats you now, you can't suppress eager moans.

When you add the occasional "God, yes" and call out Arthur's name, he groans and goes even harder. You dig your hands into the ground and push back against Arthur, your insides on fire. It borders on being painful, but you still can't help begging for more.

Arthur runs his hand over your back and up your neck before he fists his fingers into your hair. The touch alone sends heat waves through your body, and then Arthur pulls. You're forced to lift your head to avoid the pain and hollow your back, lifting your ass even higher in the process.

Using the new angle, Arthur takes you without mercy, holding on to your hair. You're completely under his control, unable to move unless you want it to hurt. Cries of pleasure escape you, and without warning, Arthur pushes you down on the ground.

He only glides out of you to get into a new position, then he forces your legs apart with his own, pushing back into you. You groan when you feel Arthur's weight on you, and he grabs your hair again, making you lift your head. 

"Is that what you wanted, sweetheart?" Arthur asks, something dark in his voice.

Before you can answer, he already thrusts into you, and you remember how you talked about being ravished by a wild beast. It seems Arthur finally takes your words to heart. He barely gives you a second to breathe, holding you in that limbo between pain and pleasure, and your only choice is to take what he gives you.

When Arthur finally lets go of your hair, he puts his hand around your throat, and although there's no pressure on it, the gesture alone has you whimpering. 

"You're mine now," Arthur says, his breath hot against your ear. "No more joking around with Micah, you understand?"

"I was just-"

Arthur only moves his fingers, and you become quiet, barely able to breathe.

"Try that again," Arthur says, and you swallow hard, sure that Arthur can feel it.

"No Micah," you say, and Arthur hums, satisfied.

He picks up the pace, only interrupting the way he ruts into you to pull back and push in deep, making you cry out each time. By now, you're sure that at least one person in camp must have heard you, but Arthur gives you no chance to think about it.

He's everywhere, his voice, his touch, and his cock, filling you up so good that you're trembling with lust. You feel like you can barely take it anymore when Arthur reaches under you, his fingers pressing against your clit. Trapped between his hand and the constant thrusts, you can't hold on any longer.

"Arthur, I-" you manage to say but break off when your orgasm hits your core and rushes in waves through the rest of your body.

Arthur holds still as your muscles tighten around him, letting you set the pace for now. You push back against him, riding the last waves before your body relaxes and Arthur glides out of you.

He carefully turns you around, cupping your face with his hand. "You're alright?"

You lift your head to kiss him, a big smile hopping onto your face. "More than alright."

"Good," Arthur says, kissing you back, and you reach down between the two of you.

"Come here, big boy."

Arthur moans when you grab his cock, and when he tries to protest, you kiss him and hold on to his neck. This time, it's you who doesn't give him a chance to move, your hand sneaking into his hair.

Arthur curses against your lips as you tuck at a few strands and his cock pulses in your hand. He buries his face against your neck, his hips bucking, and finally, everything goes quiet.

You both take slow breaths before Arthur lies down next to you, staring up into the trees. 

"You know, we could have done that months ago," you say, unable to keep the snide out of your voice.

Arthur huffs. It's a single, somewhat defeated sound coming from deep within. "I admit it, I'm an idiot."

You turn to him, running your hand over his chest. "It's my fault, too. I could have been more forward instead of waiting until even Micah made a move."

"I said no Micah," Arthur groans.

"What? If it wasn't for him, you never would have made a move," you tease. "You should thank-"

Arthur moves over so fast that you barely see it before his lips seal yours. 

"I thank Micah in hell," he growls, fury in his eyes. "And I think I said no more Micah talk."

"Fine," you say, rolling your eyes, but you can't help the tingling feeling that his voice sends all over your body. "I'll shut up if you make me."

Arthur laughs and leans over you, his lips almost touching yours. He grabs a strand of your hair, letting it run through his fingers. "I think I know just the way to do that."

[urimaginespimp]

Ivy

Alfie Solomons x Shelby Sister Reader where she’s betrothed by Thomas for a truce, now her and Alfie’s secret love affair is in thin line.

A/N: Here I go again, associating an Evermore track to Alfie. Sorry not sorry!

--------

The air was cold at dawn. You’ve been sitting alone in a cemetery since last night, dreading the moment the day was slowly breaking, and how it reminded you of how time of his arrival was getting nearer.

No, you weren’t there to visit a deceased loved one, but might as well have started grieving for yourself. This was the haven where you would often meet Alfie to either stay and talk in each other’s arms, or where he’d fetch you and bring you somewhere you could freely be with each other for a night.

A full year of secret meetups undetected led you both from solely enjoying each other’s company and wits, to being inseparable. Your special spot was a few feet away from the actual gravestones. It was under a huge tree nearby.

You knew from the start that your fondness with each other would never be accepted by your family. And the odds of them actually even coming close to being open on the idea of you both became slimmer every time Alfie would get power in his head and betray your family despite your friendship.

Months would pass of you ignoring his apologies and notes pleading to meet; To be only forgiven when he’s in Thomas’ good graces again. But it became increasingly difficult to be warry of him when you started feeling funny whenever he’d laugh at your jokes, or when he’d offer his coat for both of you to stay under when it starts drizzling and you both forgot to bring an umbrella.

He’s started a goddamn blaze in you.

Now how were you to tell the lone man you’ve ever loved that your brother was planning on marrying you off for a truce?

You only found out last night, leading to you throwing a fit for the very first time towards your brother who tried to calm you down and make you understand the benefit it would bring to the family – much like what he did to John. The way he told you sounded like it was a mere suggestion. But you knew better that he’s already fixed it.

In a fit of tears and frustration from not being able to give him the truth to why you refuse to concede, Polly barging in the study to intervene and ask what was going on was your take to leave and go to your room, shouting loudly that he better leaves you alone that night.

It took you the night trying to write everything down for Alfie. How you were to be married, and begging him not to intervene. Because as much as you love him, you couldn’t risk him and your family being in another war with the still unknown family you were to be part of.

Sneaking out later on, that’s how you found yourself in your favorite spot in the cemetery crying your heart out, and reminiscing all the memories you hold so dear with Alfie.

Taking a deep breath, your hand took the folded page of paper from your coat pocket. You almost crumpled it and wait for Alfie to tell him yourself. But you were a coward and just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him. Not when you know you wouldn’t be able to open your mouth without breaking down.

Taking a rock big enough to hold it in place, you placed your open letter under the tree and willed yourself to walk away from both your favorite place and your happiness that morning.

It’s been days and you have not uttered a word to your family. Still crying yourself to sleep every night, it became increasingly harder not to call Alfie and beg for forgiveness and ask him to take you away.

Alfie himself was sending your office missives after missives, asking you to see him at least. But all of it were left unanswered and kept in one of your desk’s drawers.

Tonight, was the celebration of your engagement and the first time you were to meet the man you were to be married to. You’ve learned from Polly that he was from a wealthy Italian family, about your age, and that he’s already seen you before and was actually the one to ask Thomas for your hand in marriage.

What a puss. You thought, He couldn’t even ask you and get rejected personally.

Well at least the dress he sent was decent. But hell were to freeze over before you would even consider wearing it.

Opening your closet, your hands skimmed through your numerous formal dresses, and finally landed on one that meant so much to you. It was beautiful, fit you perfectly, and it was a gift from Alfie.

They don’t know it’s from him, but you had to admit that wearing it in front of your family and future husband would be a satisfying last act of proclaiming your love for the King of Camden town.

The night began rather peacefully. It seemed that you were the only one miserable in the occasion thrown for you.

The man you were to marry was alright. He was polite, charming even. But he was a shy pup compared to a beast like Alfie. Sooner or later, you had to stop thinking about him.  

“What’s the Jew doing here, Tommy?” you heard your aunt ask Tommy discretely.

“I invited him, Poll. All bad blood in the past, he’s a good business partner.” He explained to your aunt.

But the rest of the conversation drowned out for you. He’s here.

For the first time in the entire night of the party, you moved from the corner you were sulking on, looking for the pair of opal eyes you were wishing to see. To hell with the Italian boy.

You were turning on every corner looking for him. If he really were in here, you figured he’d be in a corner somewhere like usual.

“I knew you’d look absolutely beautiful in that dress.” A voice called out just loud enough for you to catch. Snapping to the direction it came from, your eyes met Alfie’s.

He was dressed formally as asked, his beard was trimmed, and he had his hat on.

“Alfie I-“

“I’ll take a dance, yes.” He cut you off, not wanting to make you cry in front of the guests. Taking your hands in his freezing ones, he led you to the dance floor.

“I though you hated dancing in public?” you mused at him, placing your hands by his shoulders, ignoring the lump in your throat.  

“If this were to be our last one, everyone else be damned, yeah?” He answered, looking at you lovingly. You smiled. How could he still look at you so endearingly even after your cowardness?

“The wine’s shite by the way.” He commented, trying to make you laugh. He couldn’t stand looking so defeated anymore. You couldn’t resist breaking into a laugh, and bit your tongue from telling him the drinks are courtesy of your future husband.

Polly and Arthur were stood near each other, looking at the both of you dancing, when your aunt finally spoke up.

“She hasn’t cracked a smile ever since the night Thomas told her.” She told the oldest Shelby brother. “And all it took was for Solomons to dance with her.”

“Yeah, looking at ‘em makes me almost forget the bastard tried to kill me. It’s almost as if they’re…” Arthur didn’t get to finish what he was to say from the sudden realization. He knew that look. Yes, he’d never seen you look at anyone like that, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was - the color coming back to your face, almost as if it actually lit up at the presence of Camden town’s king.

Turning to Poll, she was already smirking at him. “She couldn’t tell Thomas the real reason she doesn’t to be married off for business. But you’re the eldest, Arthur, and when it’s on matters of your siblings’ personal happiness, you have to put your foot down.” Patting the back of his shoulder, she took her drink to go who knows.

“Is there somewhere we can talk, luv?” Alfie asked you quietly, sliding his hand on your shoulder, to your hand where he held it.

Looking around you, relief washed over when you saw that the guests were immersed in their own conversations and dance partners.

“Meet me in my room in a few minutes. It’s the third door at the right hall, and I’ll keep it slightly open.” You nervously told him, trying to keep your voice low.

Letting go of him, you acted natural, smiling at guests your way.

--------

In your room, you stood fidgeting with your fingers. The light from the crescent moon that peeked through your window was the only source of light.

What if he got lost and mistakenly entered Tommy’s office? Or that he decided to confront that fiancé of yours?

You were saved from the panic attack rising when your door finally creaked open bigger, and the silhouette of the man you love came in.

But before you could talk, his lips met yours desperately. Alfie hoped that his kiss would be able to tell you how much he’s missed you, how the past days felt like absolute hell, and how it led him to be willing in being a mister for you. A mister.

“Are you sure that brother of yours won’t be looking for ya? What if he found us out, pet?” He asked in between kisses to your neck.

“He’s gonna burn this house to the ground” you answered, gasping when he squeezed you in closer to him. You almost hated having to stop him. “Alfie, we came here to talk.” You weakly pushed him off you.

His eyes under the moonlight was glistening. It was only now that you realized he was crying. Taking his face in your hands, you held it gently, wiping his damp cheek.

“Alfie, I love you, okay? Everything that we had – no matter how it was only stolen moments, I’d live and die just to experience them again. But I can’t risk losing you and or anyone from my family for my personal reasons.” You tried to sound brave in front of him, knowing that the second you’d break, he’d take you with him.

He shook his head. “Now that’s just selfish of that brother of yours, pet. You know I could help settle any problem he has with ‘em Italians. He didn’t have to drag you into this.”

“And what, have him figure out why you’d go through great lengths for his sister whom you never seemed to care about?” Whenever Thomas was in the same room as you, the both of you would only resort to a formal greeting and not even try to converse. That was how you were able to keep it up so long. “It’s either I run or we dare come clean to him and see what we’ll become. He’ll find me either way, or he’ll shoot you dead.”

Alfie moved away from you, and walking by the window to take a breath and calm his nerves.

Suddenly the door to your bedroom was kicked completely open, revealing Arthur and Tommy who looked like they were ready to murder.

You didn’t know what came over you, but you immediately stood straight as if ready to block them before they could get to Alfie. But to your surprise, Arthur stayed standing by the doorway, and it was only Thomas who took a step closer.

“Alfie, you have one chance to tell me that what Arthur's saying isn’t true.” Tommy was seething, ordering him. “You of all people know my sisters are off limits.”

“It’s true, Tom.” You answered before Alfie could even open his mouth. If he were to push through marrying you off, at least leave him with the guilt for snatching your life away. “I love him.” Relief from finally being able to say it in front of your brothers washed over you.

“I am not gonna let you use my sister for whatever scheme it is that you fu-

“I was gonna ask her to marry me, you fucker!” Alfie growled from behind you, before finally reaching your side. You stood there gaping at him, having been clueless as well of his intentions.

“I went to meet her in our spot with a fucking ring in my hand, right. And what do I find? A letter from her telling me that some scum wants what’s only mine, and her cunt of a brother is allowing it!”

Arthur having been satisfied from what Alfie said, was smiling at you across the room. “And as the eldest of the family, I give you my blessing, so long as you promise to protect her.” He spoke, nodding at him. You wanted to run into your brother’s arms in gratitude, but Thomas spoke up again.

“Don’t celebrate yet, Alfie." He both looked at you with a stern expression. "There are Italians out there still thinking that there’s a marriage happening in a fortnight.”

Alfie scoffed at your brother’s statement. As if he hasn’t dealt with them before.

Taking your hand in his, he turned to your brother once more. “And what is expected to happen when I call off the marriage?” He asked him.

“I’m gonna start a war” you answered nervously.

Squeezing your hand, he turned to you. “Then it's gonna be the goddamn fight of my life, pet.”

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Read on FanFiction.net

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

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

"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.

"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.

Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.

He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.

"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"

"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"

"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."

"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,

"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,

After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"

Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.

Harry snatched the parchment back.

"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"

By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.

Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.

"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."

"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."

She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"

"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"

"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.

"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."

"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."

"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."

"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."

"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."

"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."

"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."

He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.

"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."

Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"

Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."

"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."

"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."

"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.

He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.

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

"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"

"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."

"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."

"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.

"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.

Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.

"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.

"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.

"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."

"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"

"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.

While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.

There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.

"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.

After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.

"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.

"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.

Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.

"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.

"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly

Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.

"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.

"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply

Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.

She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"

For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.

"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.

Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.

"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."

Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.

"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."

Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.

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

As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.

"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.

"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.

"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.

"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."

"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.

Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.

"What's going—"

He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.

"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.

"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."

"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.

Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.

"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"

"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."

Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"

She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.

Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."

[teamxdark]

They say the pen is mightier than the sword...

My Dearest Arthur,

Today, as I was heading back to the castle, Galahad stopped me. He pointed out a bird, small and blue like the sky, drinking from a puddle on the ground. We both stopped, watching it as it drank its fill, stretched its wings, and flew away.

It made me think of you.

My love, you try so hard to be the best leader for us all. You do it without complaint, struggling with the problems of a populace, making the decisions that a lesser being wouldn't dare consider. I know how much this burden crushes you, but all the same, I cannot for the life of me think of anyone more worthy than you to hold such power.

I have heard the complaints of those who disagree with your choices. They throw about opinions without care for consequences. They know nothing of the thought you put into every decision you make, and every time I hear some scoundrel run their mouth about how they would do better than you, I feel the urge to silence them, with my words or my blade, I care not which.

The things you do to me, my love...

Yes, you are the most worthy king, of that, I am certain, but you are also the most deserving of the freedom you crave. I see it, Arthur. I see the way you stare out the window, into the sky, beyond the clouds, with such profound longing that I know and understand all too well. It is enough to make a man weep.

...I have wept, I must admit. For you, and over you. If I could grant you your freedom, I would do so in a heartbeat, even if it meant that you would be gone, leaving like that bird, flying away without a backwards glance and never looking back. My grief at your absence would only be assuaged by the knowledge that you are finally unburdened. That you are happy.

Sometimes, I like to imagine that you take me with you. I imagine your hand in mine, and your smile reaching your eyes, the portrait of joy that should never have left your face, and I follow you, just as I have vowed, to the ends of the earth and into the world beyond this life.

I know it is selfish. I know it is impossible. You, Arthur, are the most selfless man I know. I have seen you grow over many years, becoming more and more responsible with time and experience. It is I who has become selfish. It is I who indulges these fantasies of taking you away to bask in your brilliance that I can never get enough of. But you could never betray your people. You could never say yes to a premature freedom. You will not be king forever, and this we both know, and you are willing to wait for the end of your reign while I still imagine ripping you from this life without a care for those that remain behind.

My desires are inconsiderate, not just to you, but to everything you've worked for. To everyone who needs you. To those who need me, too.

I shall never be worthy of you, Arthur, but my heart shall never beat for anyone else in the way it does for you.

Forever yours,

Lancelot

...

Darling Arthur,

Do you remember when we were young? Do you remember when we were but boys, training until we were collapsed on the ground, day after day?

Do you remember the first time you called me 'Lance'?

I hated it back then. I warned you to never call me anything but 'Lancelot' again, for it was my name. It was the name my mother had given me, my mother who saved me and chose me before I even knew how to walk. My name was my link to her, an important part of my identity and my proof of being wanted.

I was, truly, a stupid child.

Now, I treasure the name you gave to me. I do not allow anyone else to use it. 'Lance' is the name you bestowed upon me, a name to signify our own link, our bond... one so close that it makes me dizzy with happiness when I remember just how much we mean to each other. I now hold that name close to my heart, next to my mother's 'Lancelot' and my son's 'Father'.

It pains me that I do not have such a name to give you, my love, save for the endearments in these letters that I shall never send. Yet I never miss how blissful you look when I call you by your given name. You appear unhappy by 'Your Majesty'. You appear troubled by 'my liege'. You appear vexed by 'Sire'.

And so, when I am able, I call you by your name. I call you my friend, so that you know that I love you and that you mean the world to me. You always have, even before my feelings shifted into what they are now.

I see you smile and it is as if I have been struck by lightning. I hear you laugh and I fear I might swoon. If I do even one thing to make you happy, I feel as though I am walking on air, and I wish to do it again, and again, and again, over and over, endless until you never know pain again.

Arthur, the way I feel for you consumes me, like a fire that will never go out. My feelings scorch me, leaving burns and scars that will never fully go away, hidden on the inside where you will never see them. You will never truly know just how deeply this arrow from Cupid's bow has pierced me... I dare say he's emptied his quiver on me, for the mere thought of life without you, without your smile, your warmth, your brilliance, your bravery, your understanding, without you and everything that you are...

I don't dare tell you about these newer feelings of mine. I know you, and I know you will not treat me any different if my particular type of love for you does not match that of yours for me, but my head is clouded by fear. I cannot stop imagining that you shall become uncomfortable in my presence, that you will hold me away at arm's length, that you will look for someone else to court in an attempt to help me move on... All the possibilities are so painful, Arthur. I would rather nothing changed, even though I know my fear is irrational. I should believe in our bond, trust in our friendship, rely on the knowledge that you would never push me away...

I am a coward, my love. To be called the Ultimate Knight feels like a joke, for I am so afraid that I cannot listen to the logic in my own head. My strength of body means nothing if my strength of mind is as fragile as glass.

Yet, even as I long for something different in my relationship with you, I cannot say that I am unhappy with what I do have with you. Perhaps this, too, is why I will not speak these words nor send these letters, for what I already have with you, such a close, personal friendship, is more than I can ask for.

You have always been enough for me, Arthur.

Eternally yours,

Lancelot

...

Glorious Arthur,

I must apologize. I must, for I fear my mind is spinning out of my own control.

Every day I think of you. Every morning when I wake up, every night as I go to sleep, in every spare moment of my life, you are in my waking thoughts.

You haunt my dreams, too. At all moments, it seems, my mind conspires against me. All I want is to be happy with what I have with you, but it appears my desires are only growing, not fading, with time, and they eat me alive with every passing day.

I imagine your forehead against mine, with your hands on my waist. You lift your head, kissing me once on each eyelid, and I feel weaker than I ever have in my life.

I imagine your hands, removing my armor so that they may rest upon me, touching my back, my shoulders, my chest, all areas that I keep guarded under steel and promises. You disarm me, and I allow it. My foolish heart wishes to be vulnerable before you, for I know I will always be able to trust you with myself.

I imagine the lightest touches on my arms, spreading like trails of fire as your fingers slide along my person, and I let myself be consumed.

I imagine your lips pressing to mine, and I lose the ability to breathe.

I imagine your eyes, looking into mine, glowing with care and love and happiness, and I drown without a second thought.

Sometimes I dream of things I dare not write down here, my sweet, for it makes my face burn and my heart race and all I want to do is apologize for thinking of you in such a way. It feels terrible, as though I am taking advantage of you in my thoughts, and I fear that one day you will discover the fantasies of my mind and feel discomfort or disgusted by me.

If I ever lost you, Arthur, I know my world would shatter, and I would never become whole again.

Apologetically yours,

Lancelot

...

Arthur,

I can't stand it. Today, I cannot stand it at all.

I feel desperate, like a caged animal. I feel my soul clawing at my body from within, needing to come out and indulge. My composure is in shambles, my mind is in disarray, and though you are not at fault, it is all because of you.

Arthur, I burn for you. My heart screams and cries out and it's painful. Every inch of me aches for the smallest touch, I long for the basest of acknowledgement from you, a look, a word, a smile, Chaos, anything! Just the thought of you giving me your attention sends me into a fit, and I know that even the brush of your arm against mine as you pass me in the corridor would be enough to bring me to ecstasy!

My head is pounding, my ears playing and replaying the sound of my name coming from your lips, and I crave it. I crave you, my love, and it has never been so powerful or so consuming before. I don't know what is wrong with me. I don't know why today is the day that I might go mad. I am afraid, Arthur. I am afraid that my need for you is pushing me to the brink of madness and that I will not be able to stop myself from jumping down into it.

Arthur, the love of my life, how can I even begin to fully describe this? I've written so much and yet it is only a crumb of what is flaring inside me. I think of you and I burn up. You are not an inferno, for that is a small candle compared to the one that burns inside me. You are nothing less than the sun in the sky, approaching me to incinerate me in an instant, but even that feels like a pale comparison today.

Arthur, I am deeply sorry, but I fear writing this is only making things worse. I must stop before I

...

My love,

My upcoming mission to Acorn Kingdom is fast approaching. Soon it will be time for me to depart. I hope that, when that day comes, you are not too busy to see me off.

I will miss you terribly while I am gone, but I take peace in knowing that I am doing this for Avalon, and for you. To make this world a better place, and for you to have one less thing to worry about.

It's pathetic, is it not? As a knight, I should be focusing on the best for my kingdom, as I vowed to when you first let Caliburn descend upon my shoulders and gave to me my title, and yet I know the truth.

It's for you, Arthur. It's always been for you.

...

In his study, the king shoves away the stack of letters, his face burning as a chorus of emotion swells within him, unable to take the guilt at having read so many of Lancelot's secret letters. His hands tremble as he searches around his desk for something to write with.

...

Dear Lancelot,

My wonderful Lancelot,

To Lance,

My dearest

Lance,

Please come see me when you have a moment to yourself. Do not be afraid.

Yours,

Arthur

[rein-ette]

Prompt: 5 times England or Portugal died from being stupid, and 1 time they actually saved each other

I decided I'm going to post it in three parts because 1) once again the word count ran away from me and 2) for some reason I really don't like super long posts on tumblr. So here's the first two parts, outta six. I interpreted the word "stupid"...loosely :D

WARNINGS: blood, graphic descriptions of wounds and violence, character death, and what can definitely be classified as first degree murder

I.

“You should stop drinking.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m serious.”

“There’s a lot of things I should do.”

Gabriel sighed. His head wasn’t exactly clear at the moment either, everything dulled by the three bottles of wine they had pulled from the hold on their way up. But now Arthur was onto his personal stash of scotch and leaning heavily on the railing of the crow’s nest, and — well. Gabriel wasn’t sure if he was sober enough to pull Arthur back if he fell.

“Stand near...here, at the very least.” He mumbled, slapping the mast. Arthur just raised an eyebrow at him. How he managed to look so scornful despite the fact that his eyes couldn’t even focus, Gabriel did not know. Perhaps practice did make perfect.

“I didn’t know you cared enough, darling,” Arthur slurred, now waggling those eyebrows at him. Gabriel had a vague urge to rip them off. “And I’m not drunk. You’re just not drunk enough.”

Gabriel frowned. “I am.”

“Are not. I thought you were sad? So drink.”

“I am sad.” Gabriel stared at the bottle in his hand. He was sad. He just couldn’t...quite remember what about.

Suddenly, there was a blade in front of his nose. Gabriel tried not to go cross-eyed, and flinched back a step. “What the hell?”

Arthur had drawn his dagger and was levelling it at Gabriel’s face. The tip floated sideways every couple of seconds, before Arthur jerked it back. “Let’s practice.”

“No. We’re—no. What?”

Not waiting for a response, Arthur lunged forward, forcing Gabriel back another step. “Arthur, stop.”

“You stop,” he sneered, and then added, “Coward.”

On the next swing, Gabriel pushed forward instead of back and gripped Arthur’s right arm. Forcing Arthur's blade down and away from him, he inwardly congratulated himself on still retaining enough coordination to manage such a thing. Sometimes Arthur got into moods like this and did stupid shit like fight 30 yards up a mast, and at times like this it's definitely up to him to be the responsible one and teach his rowdy boyfriend a lesson.

Intending to do just that, he yanks Arthur around, growling, “Stop! I’m fucking serious—“

.

In hindsight, Gabriel really didn’t need to pull that hard.

--

II.

The first thing Gabriel thinks as he slowly comes to is that his trousers are sticking to his leg. The second is that his back is wet, too.

It takes him a moment to realize it's blood.

Everything comes very, very fast after that. The smell. The weight on his legs. The feeling of something embedded in his right calf. And the skin-numbing horror that comes with the knowledge he is lying in a pool of Arthur's guts.

Gabriel tries not to retch as he props himself on one arm. The smell of burning flesh seems to slide straight up through his nose and envelope his skull — all he can taste is that and the iron slicking every inch of his skin.

His elbow is sliding against the floor. Gritting his teeth, he jerks it back underneath him and tries to sit up again, but in doing so inadvertently shifts the body pinning his legs further down and off his torso. There's a dull thud as a head collides with the floor.

It's drowned out by the scream.

Gabriel freezes, muttering every curse and apology he knows. He can see Arthur's back now, the burns that have almost chewed through his right shoulder and entirely consumed his clothes. A shard of wood has gone through Arthur's lower abdomen and into Gabriel's leg, and he must be injured elsewhere as well, because Gabriel can feel something slick and warm and pulsing against the side of his leg and holy mother of god he needs to not throw up right now and think, think, think.

He had told Arthur not to do it. He had said — but it doesn't matter now, doesn't matter when Arthur's breaths are shallow against the wooden deck and cheeks bleeding gray. Gabriel has to get him off so he can carry them out of here, because over the wardrum of his own heartbeat he can hear the snarling of the waves and that hollow, incessant sound that accompanies a dying ship as it's sucked into the sea. They are running out of time.

Somehow, Gabriel frees his legs. At some point as he maneuvers them around Arthur stops screaming with every move and just pants, wet and hoarse in the back of his throat. Small mercies, that Gabriel feels disgusted to be grateful for.

When he finally makes it to his knees and wraps his hands around Arthur's throat, even that rasp disappears. Gabriel tucks his nose into Arthur's shoulder, presses his cheek against the back of his head to give him what comfort he can, and squeezes.

"It's me." He whispers, "it's me, it's okay, love, it's just me. I'm here, sweetheart. It'll all be over soon. I'm here."

He holds his grip until Arthur's nails no longer make their scritch scratch against the floorboards.

--

Notes

In the second scene, the ship they're on is Arthur's ship. Her name is the Ariel, and she is prone to combustion. I rewrote part 2 like four times and this information was once relevant.

Also I just realized these two scenes are both set on a ship but they're not related hopefully the change in tone made that clear ajsmdndhrnje I might need to fix that

[theonceandfutureking6481]

BBC's Merlin Season 1 Episode 6: A Remedy to Cure All Ills Analysis

Spoilers for the show

This episode is interestingly about Gaius, it is his arc we see here, not Merlin's or Arthur's and so this is a very interesting episode to watch because it is a vision of the world of Uther, and a vision of Gaius' own flaws. It is a world Merlin and Arthur will one day change and redeem, but as of yet this is a story more about the past then the present.

Gaius

This is something I believe I will come back to later, I'm pretty sure there's another episode later on that also addresses this idea and that is Gaius' deeply flawed nature. We as an audience love Gaius, he's a good character and Merlin loves him like a father, so we can't really help but love him too. But Gaius is flawed in perhaps one of the most dangerous ways, he is not cruel or even a bad person in any real way, but he is a coward. He is the person who in the face of injustice stands by and does nothing. His flaw is in some ways the most understandable, at least for me, its hard to be brave and to oppose power is not easy. Gaius has been a coward and has been complicit in the pain and deaths of so many in his silence, although arguably there wasn't really anything he could of done to stop it. This is revealed most of all in an exchange he has with Kilgharrah (though the 'blind eye' is also mentioned with Edwin).

Gaius: I will not choose between them (Uther and Merlin)

Kilgharrah: Then turn a blind eye. That is, after all, your talent

This is one of the first times we've seen Kilgharrah openly express emotion aside from telling Merlin about his destiny, its perhaps the first hint that he is more personally invested than he lets on. And its in an interactions with Gaius, and you can hear the disdain in his voice. This dragon has been a mouthpiece for destiny, for everything that's going to happen, he's a mouthpiece for the future and in this you realise that he and Gaius have a past, that there is more darkness in the past then we've previously understood. In this you realise that Gaius has failed to be the person he should've been, he's been a coward, and he has betrayed an entire people in his silence.

Gaius elects to turn a blind eye again by leaving, in some ways he's choosing Merlin but in leaving he's making it so he's not really making that choice, he's leaving whatever will happen in other hands. And Gwen says one of the most powerful lines in the show when he tells her that he has no choice.

"In life we always have a choice sometimes its easier to think that you don't."

Cause we do, Gwen's right. It's dangerous and easy to think that you don't have any choice but one, and everyone in this show makes that mistake at some point. Uther probably thinks that he has no choice but to persecute magic users because they're are evil. Everyone seeking revenge on Uther thinks they have no choice but to do so, and in doing no choice but to let collateral damage happen. Because if you accept that there is a choice then you accept responsibility for your actions, you accept that you are responsible for any damage you cause. You may still make the choice, but you are accepting that it is a choice you choose and the results are one's you have chosen to be acceptable. But I also love Gwen's response when Gaius tells her that he is choosing to leave, its a non-choice and also in Gwen's view its the wrong choice, but she doesn't judge him at all for it. She just says "then I'll miss you." She doesn't expect him to be brave, and she continues to care about him even as he doesn't do the right thing.

There is another note here that will be of more relevance later on. Gaius is and has been a coward, but Merlin is his redemption. Merlin is the redemption for everything Gaius has done (or hasn't done) that has helped facilitate Uther's regime. Obviously in sheltering Merlin, Gaius is already rebelling in a more meaningful way then he has in years but later in the show he will make choices to support Merlin and his destiny that will redeem him, and like so much of the show it is for the love of Merlin that he makes them, emphasising the importance of love once again.

Edwin

In many ways this is an uncomfortable episode for someone who is both not a kid and has already watched the whole show. Out of every villain in the show, Edwin is in some ways set up as the least villainous. He takes no collateral damage, he risks Morgana's life yes but ultimately he gets Gaius fired and tries to kill Uther. He doesn't even try to kill Gaius until the end, his revenge is so proportional, so seemingly justified, he hates Gaius but he doesn't try to kill him. Ultimately the show (in this episode at least) doesn't really address that complexity, they have some last minute making Edwin more evil ( he tells Merlin that they could be all-powerful together, the trying to kill Gaius and Merlin (though that was an under danger from them situation), and his parents having practiced dark magic). This ultimately succeeds, and we can go away happy in the knowledge that good triumphed over evil. This works this early in the show, this early on and we are not really sure how to feel about magic, how to feel about the great purge, how to feel about Uther, so we can accept the shows presentations of Merlin protecting Uther with little questions.

Ultimately I'm not opposed to Merlin protecting Uther, but that's largely due to how the show questions it later, because the show does address it. It does address whether or not Uther should be protected when honestly most of those seeking revenge are at least justified in the killing Uther part of their revenge.

But this has not been addressed yet, so we're left with a villain who ultimately did not seem that evil being killed and then Uther being saved.

This is also paired with this episode being perhaps the first one to truly address the horror of the great purge. Edwin's backstory is chilling, the scars on his face are there because he tried to run into the fire to save his parents when they were being burnt at the stake by Uther. There's also this sense of a barely spoken history between all the older characters, Geoffrey and Gaius don't want to remember that time, Kilgharrah reminds Gaius of how he turns a blind eye, and even in Uther and Gaius right at the end.

Uther: Do you remember them, his parents?

Gaius: I remember them all, sire

This happens, even after everything that has happened in the episode, so the episode itself doesn't even entirely erase the confusion regarding Edwin, and we don't really know who was really right. It's also an interesting moment for Uther, a moment where we see his resolve about magic slightly shift, and there is a hint of unacknowledged guilt there.

The fact that immediately after this Uther apologises to Gaius really cements this, Uther rarely admits he's wrong and he only does so when his own sense of his rightness has been questioned. He doesn't admit he was wrong with magic (and he never will), but that feeling perhaps prompts him to be able to admit he was wrong to Gaius.

Why Gaius serves Uther

Now this is a question that's hard to answer, because ultimately Gaius does serve Uther loyally for much of the show, rarely opposing him and it goes somewhat beyond just not being able to do anything else because Uther's the king, and Gaius both can't do anything but also just isn't a very brave person (though that is certainly part of it). We do find out later that Gaius ultimately doesn't think Uther's a bad king, he believes that Uther on the whole is fair to most of his people (except magic users), he's not great but he's better than a lot would be. And you see the hint of that in:

Gaius: You have always done what you believed to be right

Gaius perhaps sees in Uther a king who isn't purely driven by selfishness, a king who does genuinely seek to act in the interests of the people, and I guess that's probably better than most kings.

I also think there's a warning in that, a warning about doing purely what you believe to be right. And by that I mean acting purely in accordance with your own feelings without reference to the possibility of being wrong. Doing what you feel to be right is not always the right choice, and its something Merlin does often consider, not only because consequences are often far beyond what one person can consider, but because you may be wrong. Every person is blinded by their own experiences, Uther's blinded by his anger and hate and he mistakes that for righteousness.

Also, ultimately I might note, Gaius is physician. Most of the time serving Uther does not ask too much of him, he saves lives, he helps people, he doesn't usually have to participate in the bad. However, that doesn't take away from the fact that he still does occasionally, and he is reasonably loyal.

I enjoyed this episode, but its never been one of my favourites and it's hard to go away from this one entirely satisfied that all right ends have been achieved. The show chooses not to fully address the moral complexity at the heart of it yet, and that's fine this is after all a children's show and we are still so early in it but that does mean that in setting up complexity and not going through with it there is a level of dissatisfaction, as we struggle really to know if right really won here.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme Chapter 21

Thomas X Reader

Word Count: 2144

Summary: John gets married, Thomas gets drunk, and Y/N gets a warning.

by @adventuresintooblivion

Music filled the air as the Lees hastily directed guests to their seats. The scent of flowers was strong in the early spring, and, for bloody once, it wasn’t raining. A soft murmur filled the air, several guests questioning the absence of the groom but Aunt Pol smiled coyly to her Plus One beside her. 

They stood amongst those they had hours ago, called enemies. In the dirt and muck on the edge Birmingham, an altar was erected out cloth and sheer will. As the smell of tobacco and food grew and the time drew nearer, one could almost forget how every mouth around them struggled to feed itself. Today was a truce. And with any luck, this truce would continue into peace.

Y/N glanced at Pol, “Damn, you look like you’ve stolen the Queen’s Jewels yourself. What’s got you in such a mood?”

Pol practically danced, “Ada’s coming.”

“Oh Pol, go visit your niece for Christ’s sake. I can handle myself.”

She paused only a moment before scurrying off into the crowd. Rumor had spread that the Shelby men had been spotted heading this way. Everything was about to start and for the first time in a long minute Y/N melted into the crowd. She let the anonymity wrap around her like a blanket and breathed easy.

But it was only a brief reprieve as the soft baritone of Thomas’ voice wafted through the crowd. This was the first time they’d been in the same place since their fight. A part of her registered that John had kneeled at the altar but she couldn’t pay attention. All she could hear was her heart beating in her ribcage so hard it hurt. 

Then she heard it, a small pause in his voice. “Is that-?”

“Y/N?” Ada finished for him. “Yeah, she came with Aunt Pol. Hell, at this rate she’ll be more a part of the family than I am.” 

“Ada, don’t say that. You’ll always have a place in the Shelby home. Even if-” “My husband’s a dirty rotten communist that you keep trying to sell to the coppers?”

The sound of  shuffling feet accompanied by a defeated sigh told Y/N everything she needed to know. She’d known what Thomas was going for but then again, not a lot of people could navigate that mental minefield. Apparently, even Ada had trouble with it. 

As Y/N took a breath to calm herself she felt it, his eyes boring a hole into her back. It didn’t help that he could probably see the procession from over her shoulder. It wasn’t until she heard Arthur quietly asking ‘what the fuck is he staring at?’ that she felt the weight of his gaze leave. 

As soon as the vows were spoken and sealed the party started. The Rothschilds had never been close to the Lees, so Y/N had never been actually invited to one of their parties. Despite everything, they knew how to cast aside life’s troubles and just live. They sang at the top of their lungs, they danced as if the weight of the world simply didn’t exist and it Y/N was quickly swept off her feet.

After her first few partners had jostled her, word must’ve spread quickly and the hands that guided her across the dancefloor were gentle. She was lifted in the air and spun so that gravity lost it’s hold on her. Y/N was carried and spun until her head spun just as fast. Then rough hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her away into the darkness.

It wasn’t until her back hit the wood of a caravan, far from prying eyes, that she saw it was Thomas. His sharp features contorted even further by shadows. A deep crease ran between his eyebrows, his teeth were bared at her as he huffed for air. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as his eyes wandered over her. 

He’d left barely a few inches between their bodies. Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin as he let his fingers run down the buttons of her coat. Pol had shown up with it earlier and it was the fanciest thing Y/N owned. It was cut in the shape of a dress despite being cozy and made of wool, and the moment Y/N saw it, her heart broke at the idea of having to return it at the end of the night.

“What are you doing here?” Thomas’ voice was barely a whisper. He’d leaned close enough that Y/N could feel his hot breath pooling at the curve of her neck.

She took a shaky breath, “Pol invited me. Told me I had to come so she didn’t have to drink alone.”

“I know.” His hands had moved to either side of her head. A barely visible tremble ran through him as he spoke again. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

“Are you going to tell me to leave?” There was a hard edge to her voice. All the weeks of being ignored and this was the first thing he said to her? 

It hit her all at once, the anger and the fear. He’d cast her aside when she’d told him the hard truth. He’d left her standing in the rain to watch as he stormed away. He didn’t want her. 

The tears came unbidden. She swallowed back the bile in her throat as her jaw flexed to scream, at him or at the world she didn’t know. Her nails bit into her palm trying to drag her back to reality. But it was getting hard to breathe when all she could smell was him.

Thomas opened his mouth to snap at her, then he paused. It wasn’t until his eyes softened that Y/N even realized the tears had escaped her. The crease between his brows vanished as he tilted his head so that the moonlight would fall across Y/N's face. 

His fingertips brushed along her cheek, making all of Y/N’s fried nerves come to life. Her lips parted slightly as a soft gasp became the only noise to compete with distant music. The sound caught his attention, his eyes flickering down to her lips. A new haze filled them instead of anger or concern. 

Thomas slowly pressed his body against hers, heat radiating from beneath his suit. He bent down until his lips brushed her earlobe. Y/N couldn’t stop the shiver that ran through her and her heart sank as she realized he could feel how fast it pounded in her chest.

Then he whispered softly, as if the darkness between their bodies was the only place that could hold his secrets. “I want nothing more than to make good on that promise I made on that battlefield.”

Y/N’s thoughts were zooming by so quickly she could hardly reach and grab anything coherent, let alone a memory. Even as her mind wildly grasped from something she was too firmly rooted in the here and now. 

“I want you to marry me.” The world suddenly stopped as he pressed a chaste kiss to the curve of her neck. “I want to let myself love you, without holding back.” Another kiss, closer to her shoulder. “ I want to stop hearing the pickaxes in the wall.” His voice broke. “I don’t want to have to be a monster anymore.”

She felt the hot wetness on her skin as he buried his face against her neck. Y/N’s arms were no longer able to stay by her side as the man before her shook. For a long moment they were surrounded by nothing, then reality slammed back into place as cheers rang up from the distant crowd. Toast. Toast. Toast.

Thomas stilled, then straightened his back to let moonlight glisten on his cheekbones. He ducked down to hide his face and began to turn. Y/N’s hand shot out, grabbing a fistful of his coat.

“Wait.” He didn’t turn back towards her but he stopped walking. “If that’s what you wanted then why the fuck have you been messing around with Grace?”

He almost seemed like he wasn’t going to answer, “When I was with Grace, it gave me hope that one day I could kill the monster.”

Y/N’s voice broke, “And me?” 

“You saw the monster, smiled, and every time I saw that smile, I knew peace.” Even in the darkness, Y/N could see the blush crawling up his neck. His voice had almost faded into a whisper before he cleared his throat. “I… I need to go. John would kill me if I didn’t give some sort of speech tonight.”

His wool coat slipped through her fingers as she watched him leave. It wasn’t until he turned the corner, leaving her alone between the caravans, that she slumped into the cool damp earth. Moisture slowly soaked through her pants as her body shook. Damn that man and his fucking alcohol!

It wasn’t until another figure blotted out the sparse moonlight, that she realized she wasn’t alone. This was an older gentleman, his features softened by age. His movements were slow but purposeful as he made sure he had Y/N’s attention.

“Hello, Ms. Rothschild.” His voice was deep and graveled. One that belonged to a storyteller that had shared the history of his people a thousand times over so that it would not be forgotten. Y/N’s estranged last name rolled off his tongue like a lullaby, but it didn’t stop the stab she felt in her heart at hearing it.

She cleared her throat, “I haven’t been called that in three years, sir.”

He chuckled, “Well then, it sounds like the rumors are true. Now, how does a pretty thing like you get exiled?”

“You call your old man a coward for abandoning his own to war. Then come back a cripple.” 

“For a young woman who has brought a family from the brink of nothing, you give information like it’s a gift.” He hummed, softly tapping his foot to a beat Y/N couldn’t hear.

Y/N let out a deep sigh, “Information is payment for what you’re about to give me.”

He grinned, “You make it sound like it was going to be free in the first place.”

“Oh, it most certainly was not going to be.” She shook her head. “But what more could you want? Other than a brand new story?”

He nodded slowly with a knowing smile, “You’re smarter than you look.” 

“Good. It’ll keep people on their toes.” 

He burst out laughing. It was a deep laugh that came from his core and echoed through the night. Eventually, he quieted. 

Wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, he continued. “I’ll keep it straight to the point, then. Before Mr. Shelby proposed his own brother as collateral against a war, we’d begun colluding with your forbearer. He’d actually paid his quite handsomely to dispose of Mr. Shelby.”

“Wouldn’t that be a violation of some code of honor or something? I mean, I’ve never heard of you guys outsourcing muscle for your personal vendettas.”

“A Rothschild lectures me about honor?”

Y/N shrugged, “I never said we were the good guys.”

“Oh and becoming a Peaky Blinder makes you better?” He gave her a sidelong glance.

“I’m not sure I’m actually a part of the gang. There’s a distinct lack of a hat.” 

Y/N knew she said too much when he smiled but she didn’t stop him from finishing his story, “Indeed. No hat. In regards to your old family, we have attempted to contact them. To call it all off. However, now that the idea has been planted in their minds, I’m afraid that it’s only a matter of time before they try something stupid.”

“And what do you expect me to do about a called off hit?”

He flashed her a wicked grin that hinted at a much wilder youth, “You are the ‘Impossible Girl’ come back from the dead and all? I think you can do quite a bit, once you stop moping.”

“I’m not moping!”

“You sit in the wet grass, while everyone you know and love dances the night away. If that isn’t moping, then I’m the King of England.”

Y/N felt herself pouting and even if she didn’t want to admit it, she knew he was right. She stretched her stiff joints before forcing herself to stand. She wobbled a bit, her back protesting after so long in the awkward position. But as she took a step forward, the older man held up his hand. 

“I’ve given you wisdom. It is not a gift.”

“You want another story?”

He nodded.

“Well, one time I stole the Acquisition Officer’s boots and wore them for a week in front of him.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 17: The Battle

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which they go to battle. / Warning: DEATH, GORE / 

Word count: 4k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Y/N aka Peach)

A/N: 

According to plan, we have 2 chapters left.

This chapter is inspired by Train Wreck by James Arthur and Arcade by Duncan Laurence. 

Play these songs for a better reading experience!

.

.

.

As the cold rain whispered over the muddy fields at the southern border, Isolde soldiers started setting up tents for their Queen to have a meeting with her council. Outside lay long horse-lines and wagons with fires stretching every direction. Y/N had heard enough stories of her father’s victories so she’d been able to picture what a battlefield would look like before coming here. Nevertheless, it was a lot different to hear of those tales than to pick up a blade yourself and end a living person’s life. Hundred thousands would die tomorrow. One of them could be her. The thought sent chills down her spine despite her best effort to overlook it.

It was almost sunrise when the last men crowded into Y/N’s tent. Wary looks were exchanged. Everyone was heavy with fatigue. Lance wasn’t with them. He had temporarily returned to Attwell and would arrive later with his own army, according to plan.

“The Northerners are assembling here.” Y/N stood beside a map on the table, pointing to a marshy place. “They are waiting for reinforcements from Orioch, mercenaries from Cianna. We must strike before their reinforcements can come up.”

“By how much do they outnumber us now?” asked an old general named Seren.

Y/N didn’t answer. “We will form two lines. Here.” She touched the map again. “And use the forest to guard our flanks. We are at a disadvantage because we’re not fighting in the snow–”

“By how many, Your Majesty?”

“Do not interrupt the Queen,” Harry hissed at Sir Seren.

Y/N put up her hand to ask Harry to stay calm. She could not avoid answering the question. “Twice our force.” She sucked in a breath. “Perhaps a little more.”

Muttering passed around the men.

“Have you had any word of the Attwell army?” another general asked.

“They’re on their way,” Y/N said.

The muttering redoubled.

“It matters not,” Harry’s loud voice silenced them all. “We have enough.”

“Enough?” snapped Sir Seren. ”No disrespect to you, Your Majesty, but you might have survived the North mountain and found the magical lake, but what magic can save us, your subjects, when we’re being slaughtered on the field?”

Y/N rose to her feet. Her glare momentarily shut down the men’s murmurs. “Are you questioning your loyalty, Sir Seren?”

“No, Your Majesty. I would not dare. I’ve served your family for nearly two decades. That is why I believe your father would never have blindly trusted a foreigner in a war with Theros. How can we be sure that Lance Devany would not turn his back to us at the last minute?”

“Perhaps,” said a calm voice from the flap of the tent. “You shouldn’t be here if you’re such a coward, Sir Seren.”

Heads swivelled. A few reached for their swords. Y/N heaved a sigh of relief when she saw Lance at the entrance. Sir Seren’s face burned with shame as he bowed his head and slipped to the back for Lance to take his place by Y/N’s side.

“You thought I’d abandon my queen?” he murmured to her with a smirk upon his face. Harry rolled his eyes yet said nothing.

Y/N cleared her throat, grateful for his presence nonetheless. “Now, where were we?”

“Hold on,” Lance cut her off, his brows pinched together. “Why did I just see Mary outside?”

“It’s a last-minute decision,” Y/N said. “It wouldn’t be safe to have left her at the castle. Calanthe wants her. If she knew Mary was there, she’d send people there and my subjects would be in danger.”

“Fair enough,” Lance said, back straight, hands behind his back. “I just wish you’d told me.”

Y/N didn’t know what he was implying, but she could be sure that he was implying something. Did he think she didn’t trust him enough to tell him everything? She just didn’t think it was important, and he’d been in a hurry to get back to Attwell anyway.

By the end of the meeting, Y/N’s concern had been confirmed by Lance not making eye contact with her even once. She wanted to believe he was just tired from the journey to and from Attwell. However, she knew him too much for her own comfort. This wasn’t as simple as that.

The other men followed Harry outside to assemble the Attwell soldiers, and Lance was the last to stay with Y/N.

“Lance,” she called out as he was about to leave.

He turned, an eyebrow arched. “Yes?”

“Is something wrong?”

He regarded her for a second in silence.

She didn’t want to give him a chance to lie. “Did I upset you somehow?”

He averted his eyes, looking quite uneased. “You could’ve reassured them before I arrived.”

“Lance,” Y/N breathed.

“You could’ve just told them you knew I’d not betray the North,” Lance went on. “They accused me of turning my back to you, and you didn’t say anything.” He turned, and they locked eyes. “Do you not trust me?”

Y/N had always assumed that she had always trusted him. Hadn’t she left her kingdom in his hands while she’d been gone for weeks? How could one trust another that much? Still, he was right about her not defending him earlier. She couldn’t explain it herself, and it made her feel even worse.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Lance’s expression went grim. “I know it’s hard to trust someone after all that you’ve gone through,” he said. “You couldn’t even trust your own family, and I can’t blame you, because I’ve lived that way my whole life.” He released an exasperated breath. “But I meant it when I said I loved you and that I would die for you, Y/N. All I ask is for you to trust me.”

Y/N clenched her fists on the table, her chest heavy with tension. “I don’t want you to die for me.” Or love me, she wanted to add, but didn’t. “I want you to be safe.”

Lance smiled faintly before nodding once.“I’ll try. I promise.”

Try. She hated that he’d used that word, for it implied that there were things that were out of their control. She wished she could say with confidence that all of them would make it back alive ,and Isolde would win the war, but all she could manage to do was...try.

“Your Majesty,” came a voice outside her tent, “we found your lady-in-waiting hiding in a wagon with our supplies.”

Y/N whipped her head to Lance, who looked equally dismayed.

“Jo?” he mouthed to her.

Immediately, Y/N bolted past him as she stormed out of her tent. “Take me to her,” she told the guard. To Lance, she said, “Could you check on Harry and my men?”

“Sure.” He worked up a smile and bowed. “Good luck with Jo.”

.

.

.

Jo jumped to her feet as soon as Y/N stepped in. Y/N waved for the guard on either side of Jo to release her and step back. On the ride here, Jo had prepared what she was going to say to Y/N but now that she was standing in front of the Queen, her tongue was tied and her head empty.

Would this be considered treason?

“Your Majesty, I can explain,” she uttered, hands clasped together against her chest.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked, her expression hardened. “It was safer in the castle.”

Jo twisted the hem of her jacket as she chewed on her bottom lip and hung her head. “You took Mary,” she said. “You promised me you wouldn’t turn her in, but you brought her here.”

“We weren’t going to turn her in,” Y/N replied calmly.

Jo’s head shot up. “Well, where is she?”

“She’s safe,” Y/N said, her voice soft. She didn’t look like she was about to go to battle, which concerned Jo greatly. She wished she could do something to help, but her being here was already causing trouble to everyone. “We keep her here so she can be safe,” Y/N repeated, emphasising the word. “But you are not safe here. I’ll have someone take you home.”

“I want to stay with Mary,” Jo said fast.

Y/N’s brows furrowed a little. “Jo, don’t be ridiculous.”

Quickly, Jo stepped forward and grabbed Y/N’s hand. “Please let me stay,” she pleaded, looking into Y/N’s eyes. “You wouldn’t let Harry go to battle alone.”

“That’s because I can wield a sword.” Y/N slipped her hand out of Jo’s grip. “You cannot. You’d be dead when the enemies arrive. I’m sorry, Jo. You must leave now. This is an order.”

Jo took Y/N’s hand again before the Queen could turn. “Can I at least see Mary first?”

Y/N parted her lip yet she didn’t say no right away. She spent a moment thinking, then the look on her face softened with sympathy. “Sure.” She exhaled, nodding to a guard. “Follow me,” she said to Jo.

The guard took Jo and Y/N to another tent where they kept Mary. “Hurry up,” Y/N said coldly, not looking at Jo. Jo could tell she was angry and disappointed so she dared not speak, only curtsied to her Queen before she entered.

Mary wasn’t being tied up like she’d imagined. The witch was sitting in a chair. Her face taut with shock and worry when she saw Jo. “What are you doing here?” She jumped to her feet and took Jo’s hands. “This isn’t the place for you, Jo! Does the Queen–”

“She knows. She’s waiting outside,” Jo said. “I was worried they’d turn you in. I was trying to stop them.”

The corners of Mary’s mouth raised despite her furrowed brows. “You idiot,” she chuckled, yet there was sadness in the sound. “It’s safer for everyone when I’m here. They’d attack the castle to look for me. The Queen did the right thing, Jo.”

“I know,” Jo muttered. She’d thought once she’d seen that Mary was unharmed, she’d be at peace. But what she was feeling then was the opposite of peace. Her thoughts were all tangled up together. Even though she wouldn’t be able to help, the thought of leaving Mary here was just too painful.

As if she was able to read minds, Mary released Jo’s hands to cup her face, making Jo flinch, for he wasn’t used to having anyone touch her like this beside Y/N. Mary’s hands were cold and unfamiliar and comforting at the same time. Jo didn’t want her to let go.

“You should go home,” Mary whispered. “You can’t protect yourself.”

“Neither can you.” Jo frowned. “You’re the one they’re after. Not me.”

Mary shook her head. “When they’re here, every life is the same. They’d kill both of us.”

Jo’s stomach knotted. Her fingers were trembling so she wrapped them around Mary’s wrists.

Mary’s expression relaxed with a smile. “But did you really come all the way here for me?”

Jo nodded. “Yes. That was so stupid. I know.”

Mary let out a faint laugh. “I’m sorry.”

She didn’t say what for, but Jo already knew. Even though Mary had made a lot of mistakes in the past, Jo believed she wasn’t a bad person. Bad people wouldn’t feel guilty for being bad.

“You are not going to die. I won’t allow it,” Jo said, bringing her forehead to Mary’s.

They both closed their eyes and stood in silence until came Y/N’s voice from the entrance, “It’s time to go, Josephine.”

Jo pulled back, her heart heavy. “Yes, Your Majesty,” she answered.

Mary offered another reassuring smile. “Take care of–”

Not caring what Mary had to say, Jo interrupted her with a passionate kiss, both hands cupping her face. She could tell Mary was in shock at first, then she started kissing back as if it would be their firstand last one. That was the best and worst part.

They broke apart, faces flushed both breathless. “I’ll see you later,” Jo said. Mary squinted her eyes, perhaps wondering why ‘later’ and not ‘goodbye’. Before she could come up with what to say, Jo had already walked out.

.

.

.

The thick mist had begun to burn away.

Y/N was already sweating.

This was happening.

Her whole life had come down to this one moment. Different people were born for different fates. She could not believe this day would decide hers.

With nerves and exertion, she’d riden Thunder here and there to rally and settle and encourage her army before joining the first line of soldiers. On her right was Harry. Lance on her left. There was no sound but the horses’ snorting breaths.

Suddenly, there was a single long blast of trumpet from the distance, and Y/N shifted her attention to the great swampy field. Mist still lay in patches between the two sides, but now the enemies could be seen.

Her heart sank.

There were so many. Their line stretched out as far as she could see; the snorting of their horses was like a rumble from afar. Clouds massed in the north. The first drops of rain started coming down.

Lance, at her side, surveying them, said, “This will be your first battle, Y/N. Do not make it your last.”

Y/N made no answer. In her head, she was praying for them all.

Tension lay thick in the air. In a moment, the mist was gone. The battle was about to begin. A hundred thousand men were about to start killing each other.

Lance let out a shaken breath.

Harry sighed, as though in the most profound grief.

Y/N stood straight, her father’s sword in her hand. She kissed it and lifted it to heaven. “The Gods are on our side!” she called to her men. “To victory! Ride!” And then the men of the North started charging, all screaming in the name of their Queen.

A shout came from the enemy. Y/N leaned forward as Thunder raced across the open field. On either side, the armies were rushing up. Rain was getting heavier, but Y/N wasn’t worried. A disadvantage to one side was a disadvantage to the other.

Thunder and Lightning, light on their feet, cut through the battle faster, but the enemies were closer and it was a race between them. Ears flat to his head, Thunder dodged and sprang and galloped. Isolde’s horses were sturdy beasts, used to running on all surfaces, so the muddy ground didn’t sway them. Wind and rainwater blew into Y/N’s face, almost blinding her, but still she rode with determination. Men everywhere, fighting. Arrows flying from all sides. Harry was riding knee to knee with Y/N, keeping arrows from her while she was doing the same for him.

“The line is wavering,” he said. “We’re going to have to–”

Suddenly, she heard Lance’s voice roaring out over the clash of armies. “Fall back!” he cried.

“Where is he?” asked Y/N in distress. She could hardly see through the rain and mist and the thrash of fighting men. Finally, she spotted Lance, still mounted, dressed in black armour, his sword in his hand. Whooping, he ran a man through, used his white horse’s weight to boost another man out of his saddle. There was blood on his cheek, his arm, his saddle, and the neck of his mare. “Fall back!”

The enemy was advancing. Arrows flew all around. One grazed Y/N’s arm but she barely felt it. “Y/N!” snapped Lance. He looked angry that no one was with her. Harry was busy taking down two Theros soldiers coming at him with spears.

“Protect Her Majesty!” he shouted at the Isolde guards nearby. “All this for nothing if she dies–”

And then Lance’s horse was level with her horse, rearing, forcing another attacker back. His face changed as he leaned over and seized her arm, not minding of her wounds or his. “Where’s Jo? Is she safe?” he asked.

“Yes,” Y/N said. Battle had numbed her.

Lance showed no emotion. Y/N knew he was feeling all sorts of things yet battle had numbed him as it’d done her. He turned to his men again. “Fall back! Join the second line, bring them up!”

It was then that Y/N realised her men were breaking, fleeing, hiding in the second line of battle, which was wavering badly. And Harry was nowhere to be seen.

Lance said, turning to her suddenly, “I haven’t seen Calanthe.”

“I’ll go find her,” she said. “Don’t let Harry die.”

Lance only nodded, turned his horse to keep up with Harry. Y/N’s heart ached when she saw Harry fighting on Lightning’s back. There was mud on his face and blood. A long scratch married the neck of his mare. She pushed away the intention to help him. Lance would do that. She had to do her part.

Quickly, she turned Thunder and cut through the advancing line of enemy in search of Calanthe. Rain was beating down on them. Y/N’s nose was full of the smell of earth and rot and dried blood. The whole scene was illuminated luridly by a flash of lightning.

She found Calanthe standing on a rise, safe and sound, watching the battlefield like a spectator of a show. Vossler was standing by her side, amused by the death of the enemy and his own people. Y/N was charging toward them when a man on a tall red horse rode out to stop her. Suddenly came a black shadow on a white horse riding knee to knee with her.

“What are you doing?” she shouted at Lance. He did not speak. Y/N felt her heartbeat strangling-fast in her throat.

The man didn’t slow down, probably thinking he could take down both of them. His horse threw great arcs of mud with each stride as he dipped in the last moment to catch Y/N in the breastbone. Her blade deflected the full force of the blow. Her sword came down with a clang on his spear.

Then came another Theros soldier, and Lance was too busy fighting him off to help Y/N. She could not help but worry for Lance. Where was he? She could hear the ringing of their swords despite being in the middle of chaos. She tried to locate him, but was unable to do that while wheeling her horse and striking and feinting this man who was keeping her from coming for Calanthe and Vossler. She had blood on her face and she could taste it. Not sure whose blood it was.

Suddenly, Lance cried out. Y/N’s heart was in her throat, but she couldn’t help him. Nor would she. She’d promised him that she would mind her own business. He would be fine. He’d promised.

The flying dirt stung her face as she parried another thrust and scored a strike along the man’s ribs, cutting him open. Blood splashed as he was thrown off the saddle. Even from the distance, Y/N could make out the frightened look on Calanthe’s pale face. Meanwhile, Vossler showed no emotion as he studied Y/N’s every move. A corner of his thin mouth lifted. He was smiling.

Y/N turned her head to another cry, this time, finding Lance on the muddy ground. He had fallen off his horse.

No!

She raced towards him.

He was too near yet too far.

There were bodies lying in the way. She could not get there fast enough. She felt a spark of hope as he pushed himself up.

Yes, Lance, stand up.

He stood straight, gripping his bloody sword. She saw him look around as though to call for his horse.

Except that he didn’t.

And that was when Y/N saw it. A blade going right through his black armour.

“No!”

Lance turned as though he could hear her. He fell to his knees. Y/N screamed. She did not know such a sound was in her. She had stopped thinking of victory. The world was silent for that one second and all she could hear was her violent heartbeats and the heart-wrenching scream of his name. She kicked Thunder into a gallop and jumped right off the stallion’s back into the mud. The man who’d wounded Lance was dead, facedown in the black water. Y/N had no thought to spare for him. Her throat closed in when she watched Lance, still kneeling, shake violently as the blood spilled from his lips.

She caught him right before he fell back. He looked up, his eyelids fluttered. “Y/N.”

“Shh,” she told him, holding him to her chest. “Don’t talk.”

“I am sorry. I meant to live. I did.”

“You’re going to live. Get on the horse,” Y/N said through the tears as Thunder silently knelt in the mud, shielding her from harm. The ground shook from the thunder of two armies, but Y/N felt like there were just them in this moment. Lance could not sit upright but slumped deadweight. Nobody was coming for her. They didn’t want to kill her now even though they could. They wanted her to suffer, just not simply in the way she’d imagined. She could feel Vossler watching with his satisfactory smirk. He knew he was winning.

Trying to control her voice, she said, “We’ll take you to the lake. We’ll take you to the lake. It’ll heal you.”

“Y/N.”

“You’re going to be okay. It’s just a tiny wound.”

Lance chuckled slightly, then came the smirk that she used to hate as he shook his head. “This is not a fairytale, Y/N. Guard this land. Win.”

She stared at him. Wild thoughts darted through her brain.

“I’ll see you again,” he whispered and lifted his hand to graze his thumb across her cheek.

“Promise?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Promise,” he said and smiled suddenly.

She nodded, unable to speak. She knew her face was crumbling as she embraced him and felt him slipping away in her arms. She did not know how long she wept while the battle raged on. The sound only flooded back in when she felt a presence behind her and looked over her shoulder to see Harry.

He slid from the back of his horse and gazed down at her. She had no words for him, and he knew that gentle speech or a soft touch would have shattered her so he offered neither. He reached out a hand, still smeared with blood and his own. She grabbed it and got to her feet, tumbled back, and bowed over Lance's unmarked body. Her soul was now full of restless violence. She could not bring Lance back. But the thing they had both wanted, she could do.

“Where’s Vossler?” Y/N asked, fuming with rage. Vossler and Calanthe weren’t standing on the rise anymore. They’d either escaped or joined the army. Y/N doubted it was the latter.

“Doesn’t matter. We must win this battle first,” Harry said. All around the wind shrieked. The cry of a storm. They mounted their horses together and wheeled and galloped back to the battle.

.

.

.

Hour by bloody hour, and Y/N did not know how long it had been. Hours? Days?

It was only when a voice shook her that she was brought back to herself. “Peach,” Harry said. “It is over. They are fleeing.”

It seemed as though a haze fell from Y/N’s sight. She looked around and all around she saw only her own men.

Lance, we won.

The wind had dropped. Steadily, snow began to fall.

Snow? At the border?

How?

Not only Y/N, but every standing soldier was looking up, appalled by the scanty flakes drifting down from the sky. A chill wind raced through the field as the falling snow, slowly, thickly, silently, covered dead enemies and dead friends alike.

The cold that touched Y/N’s cheek caused her to flinch. She turned to Harry. “Where’s Vossler and Calanthe?”

Harry couldn’t answer.

A guard rushed up to them on his horse. “The Monks and the Theros Queen are heading to our camps, Your Majesty.”

“Mary,” Y/N said. “They want the witch.”

But why?

[zodiyack]

Wrong Girl, Right Time

Requested by anon: Helloo! I am a big fan of your writing and I had an idea about a kinda dark angsty tommy x reader fic taking place in season 1 where the reader is a childhood of the boys and when tommy spends his first night with Grace inspector Campbell goes after the reader (maybe one of his men physically assaults her) and tommy learns about it the next day and realises he messed up big time and tries to fix everything. Thank you so much and I will understand if you don't want to do it.

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst that was written while half asleep, implied smut, physical assault, fluff, me not proofreading

Note: Aaa! I hope you like it, I tried! Enjoy!

Taglist: @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @stydia-4-ever, @matth1w, @redspaceace, @jenepleurepasbaby, @simonsbluee, @peakysputain​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Y/n walked back to her sofa, wrapping her sweater tighter around her body. The warmth of Tommy’s kind hugs, the firewood he’d bring her after he’d scold her for risking her life living in such a cold temperature, the smiles that warmed her insides- even if they weren’t directed toward her.

She sighed, plopping down on the cushions. She’d fallen for Tommy, since they were kids, and she had no idea how to tell him. Or if he even felt the same.

“Fuck.” She rolled over, curling into a ball and hugging herself, hoping for warmth. Hoping for Tommy to show up with firewood even if it meant he’d scold her. Hoping for Tommy to hug her tightly and kiss her hairline even if it meant she’d have to suffer knowing it was platonically. Y/n didn’t care the consequence, she just wanted him.

And somewhere out there, he was with her. Just not Y/n “her”. It was the woman he gave his heart too. Or rather, wanted to give his heart to, but, for once in his life, he broke down and verbally admitted he was too much of a coward to do so.

They danced together. Twirling around the room. Lust filled Tommy’s eyes, a mirrored look in Grace’s. They leaned in, connecting their lips and relieving themselves of the desire they both knew they felt.

Outside of Grace’s place, was officer Campbell. Tommy knew. He knew the man would have a high chance of coming across this. And he could care less for the man’s thoughts on the situation.

He smiled softly into the kiss, deepening it and their contact, suddenly becoming more cocky inside knowing Campbell saw him and Grace. But the lust remained, and like he’d told others and himself time and time again, he just really couldn’t find the fucks to give.

Unfortunately, thanks to his discovery, Campbell decided to retaliate. He knew of Y/n L/n. The girl who hung around the Shelby boys as a young girl, who looked at Tommy with longing in her eyes, who smiled and hid the hurt in her heart when she met Grace.

He chuckled as he walked to the girl’s home. He sent his men to the door, told them to break in, have two grab Y/n, rough up the place and then meet in the living room with the girl.

Officer Campbell kicked a shard of glass that lied on the floor. “Look at this place, Y/n. It’s a bloody wreck!”

“Because of you, asshole!” She spat on his shoes. Campbell gave eye contact to one of the men next to Y/n, and smiled when he heard the sound of a smack and a yelp of pain. Y/n sobbed and looked up at him, a red hand mark rested on her face.

“My goodness, Miss L/n, you really ought to cover that up! Don’t want Tommy thinking you’re a weak link, eh? Maybe he’ll find you ugly, inside and out, when he learns you went insane, trashed up your own place, then fought someone for no reason... and lost.”

She furrowed her eyebrows and big the inside of her cheek.

“What do you think? Y/n?”

Still, Y/n kept quiet, refusing to give into his game. She continued to glare at him, but kept her mouth shut. It pissed him off, to say the least. He nodded to the men again. Another yelp left her mouth. Blood leaked from her nose.

“Ooooh!” The officer scrunched his face in reaction to her face, “That’s got to hurt, doesn’t it? Well I can make it stop hurting. Just tell me whatever you can about your little crush, okay?”

He growled when she didn’t respond. A man behind her yanked her head back with his hold on her hair. A whimper escaped her lips.

“Answer me, you bitch!” She smiled. He returned it with the thought that he’d won. “Good. Now-” His face paled, then crinkled in disgust.

“That’s all I know, sorry love.” Y/n quipped with a mischievous smirk, wiping her mouth on her shoulder and looking down at Campbell’s shoe. A wad of her saliva coated the top of it.

“Alright then, if we can’t get information out of you, we’ll just... leave Tommy a little surprise.” He nodded to the man before walking out the door, the rest of the men following.

“You fucked up big time, princess.”

“Thomas?” His foot steps slowed, then rushed again. His breathing was unsteady as he ran up the stairs and to the room the person he was looking for was occupying.

“Oh God- what did he do to you?” Tommy heard his voice crack as he knelt beside Y/n’s bed. He regretted everything. The night he shared with Grace, the deal he made with Campbell, the mistake of giving Y/n the space she never asked for.

“It’s okay-” she coughed, causing Tommy to wince, “go back to Grace.”

“What? No, are you crazy?” He truly thought she was joking. He smiled with the side of his mouth and forced out a small chuckle of his own. “You need to rest, and I,” He grunted as he sat down next to her, “am not going to leave until you get better.”

“Why? You could be having the time of your life right now, why stay with me when I’m sick and possibly very ugly-” she dawned a goofy smile, unknowingly making Tommy’s heart race faster than it already was, “I dunno, I haven’t been able to look in a mirror quite yet.”

“You’re beautiful. You don’t need a mirror to see that.”

He let go of his tougher exterior, smiling brightly and genuinely. He grabbed Y/n’s hand and kissed it softly.

“Thomas Michael Shelby, what on Earth are you doing to me?”

Tommy looked up with slight confusion and noticed Y/n’s state, mental absence being a perfect words to describe it. She looked out of it, but still, just as beautiful out of it as she would be if she was unharmed. He was about to ask her what she meant, but she’d already turned over and slipped away into peaceful slumber again.

When she woke up again, her consciousnesses was more alert, as her body was healing while she slept, the foggy mind effect her injuries gave her was fading away with every moment she rested.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

“Tommy? Oh.” She clenched her jaw. Y/n really had missed him, but that night gave her a lot of arguments to settle with Tommy, things she needed him to answer.

“Pol told me you collapsed on the floor, already unconscious by the time she discovered you, and that she got Arthur to help you into your bed. She said you were healing, nothing major, just bruises and some blood here and there.”

“Tommy.”

“Said she didn’t know what happened.”

“Tom.”

“So what happened, Y/n? Tell me so I can be on my merry way, and blind them. That’s what you want, right? Me to like you enough to go and blind some bastard? Well you’re wrong if you think I don’t. Y/n, some things you underestimate about me, like how much I care abou-”

“Thomas!”

“...you- ...Yes?”

“He tossed me around like a fucking rag-doll.” Y/n ignored the ache of her head and held her composure. If there was ever a time to give Tommy a piece of her mind, it was now.

“I- Who?” Her eyes studied Tommy, the way he clenched his fists with anger.

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said no. You don’t get to be mad. You went out there, fucked Grace, and I was stuck here, alone, cold, oh and abused by Inspector Chester fucking Campbell!” She stood up, wobbling slightly due to her lack of movement in bed rest. Tommy tried to help her stand, but she pushed his hands away with a huff. “I hoped, I hoped, that you’d show up. But you never did.”

“Campbell did that to you?” He looked at Y/n’s face, flinching internally at the purple, blue, and kind of brownish hues that marked her skin.

“Fuck you Thomas Shelby.” He flinched. “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you! Fuck you!” She stumbled over to him and hit his arms, punching him while breaking into tears. Tommy just stood there. He took her hits. His eyes closed in pain, not from her actions but from the situation; the pain striking him in the heart.

Finally, she broke. When she stopped punching him and began to drop to her knees, Tommy caught her. “I hate you.” She cried.

He felt the tears begin to form, spilling without his consent, “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I’m here-”

“I hate you, I hate you, I fucking hate you!” Though she was muttering words of her pain, she clung to Tommy tightly and refused to let go of him, as if her letting go of him now would be letting go of him forever. Her face was reddening and her nose was snotty, the tears were flooding.

“Let it all out, it’s alright, love. I’m here-”

“You weren’t the night Campbell gifted me to one of his men to use as a fucking pinata.”

He stopped. His heart ached. “I know... I’ll never forgive myself for that. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there, I’m sorry I didn’t show up, I’m sorry I-”

“Stop saying sorry. You’re not sorry. You slept with the woman you’ve been eyeing.Congratulations! Hey, want another medal? This one’s for world’s worst best friend! And another! Another for world’s best heart-breaker! Gonna throw ‘em in the cut too, huh? A man fights in a war for his home, but can’t bloody protect the girl who loves him the most? Why?? Oh, maybe because he’s too busy, I don’t know, starting another fucking war?!”

“W-what?” He muttered quietly, dropping with Y/n, who was pulling away to spew more angry words at her childhood crush. She looked him in the eyes with fury and hurt.

“You could’ve been there! You.. you could’ve been there, but you chose her... you chose her over me.. Just like you always did...with every girl... ever since we were kids...”

“Oh Y/n...” He cupped her cheeks, and this time- she did not fight. “You’ve been hiding that? For so long?”

She nodded, reaching up and wiping her eyes with her arm. “I was hoping... I was hoping you’d pick me one day. But that day never came. So I kept waiting. I watched you flirt, I watched you admire, I watched you be admired... I know, it’s silly, but no matter how many times I’ve tried to get over you, I can’t. And I know you don’t li-”

Tommy cut her off with a harsh, desperate, yet somewhat soft, kiss. “To be honest, Y/n,” He lifted her off the ground, swooped her off her feet and carried her back to her bed, setting her on the comfy mattress and tucking her in. “It’s not silly. I’ve tried the same, and yet, here I am.”

“Wait- How- But you-”

“Grace was a distraction, like the whores. Something to get my mind off of you. I suppose I just didn’t realize I was thinking of you...” He pulled away from the bed and grabbed his hat, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To make this right.” Tommy turned, a small smile gracing his face. “Do you have problem with that?”

“Yes, actually. I do.” Y/n smiled softly at Tommy as he raised his eyebrows in question, “You can make it right later. For now, I’m healing and I’ll be needing some company, preferably from my favorite of the infamous Shelby boys.”

“Finn?”

“No, dummy, you!” She giggled when Tommy rolled his eyes, his smile bigger than before, and crawled into the bed with her, draping an arm lazily around her waist and kissing her forehead. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“For you? Anything and anytime. You’re welcome, Y/n.” He closed the space between them, kissing her softly. Eventually, the pair fell asleep, unaware of Polly walking into the room a couple hours later, curious to where Tommy was and how Y/n was doing. 

She smiled at the sight; Y/n, smiling with her cheek pressed against her arm, chest heaving with each breath she took, Tommy’s head resting on it. Her hand was buried in his hair from her attempt of lulling him to sleep, and Tommy’s mouth was parted slightly, his chest moved up and down like Y/n’s.

“Really was the wrong girl, but had you been with the right one, I’d say damn near fantastic timing, Thomas.” Pol closed the door behind her. She knew this couple would happen; Polly Gray is always right.

[smallheathgangsters]

Wait For Me | T.S.

A/N: So proud of this one! Please enjoy and leave some feedback! ❤️ Btw, I hope this is want you wanted, Anon. :)

Request: “Hey! Could you write some angst with fluffy end (with 30,23,21 or 34) where Tommy and the reader were in a relationship before the war and she had to leave small heath and could only return years after they got back. They still love each other but she's keeping her distance in the beginning? And his family are the first who see her and welcome her and he just sort if walks in and falls in love again? Sorry if this is too detailed. I LOVE your writings :)” by Anon

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @tranquility-or-chaos​

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Word Count: 2841

Type: angst, fluff

Summary: Y/N breaks the only promise she made to Tommy before he went off to war. Will there be any hope left for them after he returns to Small Heath?

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

“Are you being fucking serious?” you gasped speechlessly. Thomas was giving you a sad and guilty look. His hands were fidgeting with the ring on his right middle finger you had bought him about a year ago. It wasn’t meant to be a promise ring, simply a sweet gesture to show him how much he meant to you, but you knew from the moment he put it on, he started wearing it as one.

“Are you actually being serious, Tommy?” you repeated, looking at him bewilderedly with your eyes teared wide open.

“John and Arthur volunteered as well …” he mumbled, while his hands kept on working on the ring.

His response made you grab him by the hem of his jacket. “That makes no bloody difference, don’t you understand?”

His icy blue eyes were starting to get teary when he locked his gaze with your hurt one. You tried your best to not get soft by his reaction, tried to talk about his absolute stupid idea reasonably and even a tiny bit sternly, but you failed miserably, tears building up behind your eyes as well. “Are you trying to push me away? Are you trying to make it as hard for us as possible?”

You let out a desperate sob, making Tommy finally let go of the ring and cup your face into his hands lovingly. “I couldn’t live with myself if I wasn’t there to help my brothers and friends in this unbelievably hard time. I would feel like a coward, letting them die while I’d be hiding here.”

“But you wouldn’t be hiding! There are enough men volunteering, it wouldn’t make a difference if you went or stayed here!” you sobbed, the tears that had been gathering now running down your rosy cheeks.

“It would to me, Y/N …” he said quietly, caressing your cheek with his thumb, catching a few of your salty tears.

“Please don’t leave me, Tommy …” you cried. You leaned your forehead against his chest, your whole body erupting into even more violent sobs and hiccups, making you gasp for air. Tommy gently caressed your back. “I’m not leaving you. I could never leave you, love. My thoughts will always be with you.”

But his words did nothing to calm you down. “Please, love. You need to breathe.”

He wrapped his arms around you even tighter, swaying you softly. Then he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “I’ll write you every day, if I can, I promise. I’m sure, everything will be over sooner as you think.”

Finally, your crying quieted down. Tommy didn’t stop stroking your back. His big, warm hand gave you the comfort you needed in this moment, even though you knew it would be the last time for a long while. You sniffled and lifted your head from his shirt, which was now stained in your tears. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t, Y/N. I promise,” he ensured, kissing your forehead and giving you a weak smile, trying to lighted up the mood a little bit, even though there really wasn’t anything to be happy about right now. “Can you promise me something too?”

You nodded. “Anything.”

“Promise you’ll wait for me?”

His question made you break out into sobs again. “How could I not? How dare you even think I wouldn’t wait for you. Of course, I promise, Tommy.”

 ***

 You broke your promise. The only thing Tommy had ever made you promise. The one promise that meant so much to him, you broke.

You tried telling yourself that it hadn’t been your fault that you had to leave Small Heath. Your parents ran a small business in London, but when all the men were collected or volunteered for the war, they lost their bookkeeper and desperately needed help. They had called you and naturally, you packed everything right away, leaving Birmingham.

But in the end, it didn’t matter who’s fault it was. You weren’t there when you heard about the brave men coming back from the war. You weren’t there when Tommy came back.

Polly even sent you a letter, telling you that they had all made it back alive. And you were so incredibly happy for them and Polly. Still, you never answered her letter, you never even called.

You felt like you didn’t belong to their family anymore. You had let them down, but in particular, you had let Tommy down. It made your heart shatter into a million pieces knowing that you hadn’t been there when the train arrived, waiting for him on the platform. That you hadn’t been there to hold him in your arms, welcoming him back home, peppering him with thousands of sweet little kisses and telling him how much you’d missed him.

And it was true. You really had missed him so much. There wasn’t a day that went by, that you didn’t think of him. His icy blue eyes were the only thing on your mind every single evening you went to sleep. It was the only reason you were even able to find some rest.

While you were overjoyed by Polly’s news, it also made you sick to the stomach. Hearing about Tommy coming back made you feel twice as guilty about the fact that around two years into the war, you stopped answering his letters on a regular basis. You felt as if you were betraying him, knowing very well that you had left Small Heath only a year after him joining the tunnellers. Eventually, you stopped writing him completely. You couldn’t bear telling him that you had left, but you also couldn’t keep on writing him with this secret weighing you down.

Losing Tommy was your own fault. In the beginning, you tried blaming him, out of frustration. You had blamed his decision to volunteer, him risking his life every day, accepting the fact that he may never return alive. But it never made you feel better about the situation you were in. Because deep down you knew, there was nothing to blame him for. The outcome of your relationship, the shatters of what you were left with had all been your doing, not Tommy’s.

It had been a year since Polly’s letter. But still not a day you hadn’t thought of Tommy. Your family had finally found somebody to take over the bookkeeping and suddenly, it was time for you to return to Small Heath. No matter how much time you spent in London, you never really felt at home there and you knew the only place you’d ever be happy was Birmingham. The only problem was, moving back to Birmingham also meant moving back to Tommy. And that was something you dreaded.

In fear of crossing his path unintentionally, you rented a tiny apartment as far away as possible from where Tommy had lived before the war. It wasn’t much but it had everything you needed for now.

Only a few days after returning home, you reunited with one of your best friends, meeting up at a small café. While it felt good seeing a familiar face, you knew it wouldn’t take long for her to ask about Tommy.

“Have you seen him yet? I’m sure he missed you so much,” your friend said, blowing away the steam from the cup of tea and then taking a careful sip, trying not to burn her tongue.

“Uh, no. Not yet,” you mumbled, stirring your spoon in your tea, avoiding her nosy gaze.

“What? Why not? Did you break up?” she asked confused.

Her question made you think. Tommy and you had never officially broken up. It was you who decided for yourself to break off the contact. And because he never reached out to you, asking why you hadn’t been writing him letters anymore or why you hadn’t been there when he came back from France, you assumed he had accepted the fact that your relationship had sort of dissolved itself.

“Not exactly …” you said insecurely, “but it’s been too long since we’ve had contact. It would be ridiculous of me to expect him to still care about me.”

“Oh, shut up,” your friend exclaimed. “You’re being stupid. Tommy Shelby was head over heels for you, there is nothing in the world that could make him lose interest or stop caring about you.”

You scoffed. “Was. Tommy Shelby was head over heels.”

Your comment made your friend groan. “You’re being annoying and self-pitying.”

“Excuse me?” you huffed. Nevertheless, you knew very well that your words had sounded whiny and as though you were sorry for yourself.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” she said, lifting up her teacup to her lips and raising her eyebrows at you.

Just as you opened your mouth to let out a sarcastic reply, you heard a voice behind you shout your name.

“Y/N! Oh my gosh, is it really you?”

The voice was all too familiar to you and made you squeeze your eyes together, hoping it would go away. But of course, it didn’t. Only a second later Polly was standing next to yours and your friend’s table. You opened your eyes again and moved them slowly to the elegantly dressed woman, a cigarette between her index and middle finger.

“As pretty as ever!” she exclaimed, leaning down and pulling you into a friendly hug, pressing you tightly against her chest. “How long have you been back?”

“O– only a couple of days. Just started settling back in,” you mumbled, feeling absolutely awkward and uncomfortable.

She widened her eyes. “Why didn’t you come by? Tommy’s changed a lot since the war but I’m sure he still misses you and would be very happy to see you.”

Hearing her mention Tommy so casually made you gulp. Was he really not upset about you leaving and ignoring him? Or was Polly just not realising how complicated yours and Tommy’s relationship was, if you could still call it that? On the other hand, Polly was a clever woman. She would be the first to notice something being off.

“Are you sure …? I mean, a lot has happened since then.”

“Oh, of course! We all missed you very much, Y/N, even Finn!”

Sweet little Finn. How was it possible that even he remembered you?

Suddenly, you felt Polly grab you by your wrist, pulling you out of your chair. Then she gave your friend an apologetic look. “I’m so sorry, miss, but I need to steal Y/N away from you.”

You knew exactly that your friend didn’t mind at all, considering the topic of your previous conversation and simply nodded at Polly, smiling cheekily.

Outside, Polly pushed you into a taxi, herself following right behind. She told the driver the same address you remembered the Shelby Home having before you had left. Tommy and his brothers had built up this betting shop and you thought back to when Polly had to take over the reins when the boys left. Suddenly, so many memories popped up in your head, making you feel slightly overwhelmed. Polly seemed to notice you tensing up.

“Everything alright, love?”

You gulped and nodded. “Just feeling a little nervous.”

“Nervous?” she asked surprised, “Why would you be nervous around us? We’re family.”

“Tommy and I, we … you know, we–“

Polly cut you off by grabbing both your shoulders and looking into your eyes intensely. “Y/N, darling. Stop worrying about Tommy, everything’s going to be fine.”

You sighed. “Okay.”

The driver stopped the car and Polly payed him, getting out of the vehicle quickly onto Watery Lane. “Come on, then.”

You slid off of the back seat as well and followed her to the front door of the house. Your heart started racing and your palms got sweaty, making you wipe them on your dress. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much and they stayed uncomfortably clammy. Polly sensed you not feeling very well and grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. Then she pushed open the front door to the betting shop, a wave of loud masculine voices coming your way.

“Look who I found!” you heard Polly shout over the voices, drawing all the attention towards the two of you.

“What the fuck!”

John was the first to react. A huge smile was plastered onto his face. You saw him rushing over to you and pulling into the biggest, tightest hug you’ve ever experienced. “What the bloody hell are you doing here? I thought you’d never come back!”

You nuzzled your face into his chest. All of a sudden, all your nervousness and insecurity was gone, replaced by the feeling of finally being at home. It made you realise how much you had missed all of them and how stupid you had been to avoid them. They really were family.

Immediately after John pulled away, Arthur wrapped his slender arms around you. You couldn’t say whose welcome was more heartfelt.

“You look amazing, Y/N,” Arthur complimented when he finally got to examine your face more closely.

“Thank you,” you said, blushing. “I really missed you all.”

“We did too, very much.”

After you hugged Finn as well, commenting on how much he had grown in the years you were gone, your eyes scanned the room in hope to find Tommy standing somewhere in the back, waiting for his turn to pull you into an embrace. But he was nowhere to be seen.

You felt a soft hand being placed on your shoulder. “I’m sorry he’s not here. I’m sure he’ll be over soon.”

You nodded and gave Polly a weak smile. “Don’t worry. Maybe it’s better this way.”

“Quit being so negative,” Polly told you off. The tone in which she said it wasn’t angry though. It sounded almost hopeful.

Suddenly, the front door behind you flew open, making you flinch. You whipped your head around, staring at the person standing in the doorway.

“Tommy …?” you whispered, as if you had to be careful to not scare him away.

He was just as handsome as the last time you had seen his beautiful face and his breathtakingly gorgeous eyes. He was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, making him look as if he were in charge of everything and everyone in Small Heath. There was nothing that didn’t make you fall in love with him all over again right then and there.

You felt all the other family members slowly backing up towards their offices, giving you the space, you needed.

At first, Tommy didn’t say a word. He just stared at you with an expression you weren’t able to make out. Was he happy to see you? Or did he want you to leave?

The silence made you feel uneasy. Your heart was beating uncontrollably fast in your chest and you felt heat wander up to your cheeks, making them flush.

This encounter was embarrassing. It was not at all romantic or even pleasant. It made you want to push past Tommy and run down the street, as far away as possible. You guessed he probably felt the same. You couldn’t imagine him feeling positive emotions when it came to you, especially not when you suddenly stood in his shop unannounced after not hearing from you for years.

“Look … I’m sorry, I– I shouldn’t be here,” you stammered nervously, your eyes jumping around in the entrance, avoiding his intense stare at all costs.

You wrapped your coat around your body and stepped towards Tommy, planning on squeezing past his muscular physique when you suddenly felt his arms around your body. His actions took you by surprise, making your freeze in his embrace. Your breath hitched at the back of your throat and you were unable to return the gesture. You worried that your reaction would make him regret hugging you, but he didn’t let you go. It seemed as though when he felt you unable to move, he pressed you even harder against himself.

“Don’t leave … please,” you heard him whisper pleadingly. You held your breath in shock when you thought you heard his voice being shaky.

“You promised …” he breathed, a silent sob escaping his lips. He placed a hand on your cheek, and you felt something cold. The ring.

That was when you broke. Your legs gave up on you, making Tommy catch you when your body collapsed. His strong arms supported your body, holding you up against his chest while his scent surrounded you.

Your cries filled the air and time seemed to have stopped, only for you and Tommy. It was a moment that nobody was able to take away from you. It was when you realised that life meant nothing if Tommy wasn’t there. And that nothing you had done had ever changed that. It was also the moment you realised that Tommy had never forgotten or stopped caring about you. He still loved you as much as you loved him, and not even war was able to change that.

[flyingfoxwriter]

There was a moment of silence, raw expectation. The three could not register anymore how close they were to each other. Not with such a thing in their frozen sight.

What had been huge already had grown to sickening proportions, ones that should have not been naturally possible. Flesh had been ripped and bloody before, and yet it all twisted to a degree that made that memory tame in comparison. Blinding colors had emerged with a deep guttural howl, first a sickly green, then with a range of dispersing hues. Worst of all, was the stance of such being; what had been their friend was now a monster gaping down at them, sharp maws open in what could only be a devilish grin.

“What the fu-“

Arthur was the first to unfreeze. Vivi and Lewis flinched as he let out a scream much more panicked and loud than the ones before. It would have been funny, if they were not in dire danger.

Neither she nor the ghost had time to ponder the situation, the irony of them standing together. Before either could blink, Mystery did.

A ghostly grunt echoed, much more startled than the ones Lewis made when he watched Arthur fall by his hand. Arthur and Vivi were pushed sideways as a big green claw slammed around the ghost’s frame and yanked. Lewis had always been huge, even in death, and yet he seemed small in that grasp.

Violet plasma filled the air as Mystery heaved Lewis backwards and over his tails. The skeleton somehow fell noisily by a burnt truck with a thud, even if he could have not possibly made a sound, not while being a ghost. In fact, for a moment, perhaps he had flickered as his living self in the whiplash.

Did not matter, Vivi did not see that. Her sight was blocked; because in a second, Mystery lunged with a swift turn, pinning the ghost far away from the other two. Fast, direct and calculative, the beast knew to strike without giving them a chance.

This time, no one can rip my hold off. Not while I control the ripper now.

It could allow itself to mock them inwardly, whispering in Mystery’s mind; for its mockery was directed at the Kitsune, and less so at the insignificant youngsters at its mercy.

Lewis trembled and slammed his hand up onto the claw over him, his angry tired growls not as loud as the ones of Mystery. He set himself ablaze, his skull engulfed in pink fire; but it only seemed to make the monster laugh, unmoving.

His arms would have been crushed under the weight, his ghostly ribs shattered… if not for a thud echoing behind it. With that sound, it froze. Not because it felt hurt, but because it was surprised.

Slowly, ever so slowly, its huge neck and head turned back, its body staying hauntingly still while it did so. Its three eyes narrowed, fixing on the bat that had struck its hind legs. One single strike… Vivi still panted behind it, shaking as she fought the thought of who she had hit.

Her expression twisted a little when she met those eyes; her hold on the bat loosened a bit. She had doubted to lunge, her swing hesitant. And still, while looking now at that thing, she still thought she could see Mystery.

But it wasn’t him. All knew when it acted next.

A shadow dashed over her, fast as lightning. Her blue eyes widened as she glanced up, just in time to spot the tail swinging downwards towards her. Blue as her dress, much more brighter and longer.

Lewis’ sockets emptied for a moment, wide as his eyes would have been. His heart skipped a beat. However, she was not crushed; that instant was not only seen by him.

Vivi huffed as something slammed onto her faster than the tail. Her huff was not the only one to echo as she tumbled with something a few feet away. Arthur could not afford to be careful and not end up tangled up with her on the ground after his tackle; he somehow found himself rushing towards the monster, who had him frozen just mere seconds ago.

His eyes wobbled, as he tried and failed to stand with an arm that would not stop trashing about, now even more erratic. Vivi hissed as some sparks brushed her, busting out of the metal over her. When they both managed to untangle from each other, it was too late.

Arthur gulped, sat in the same position as when the ghost ripped that locket out of his hold, much more terrified however. He did not register her sitting up and raising her bat with a snarl, shielding him slightly. Time frozen around him, his eyes wandered all over the beast.

No, not beast. Mystery. Perhaps one and the same, as he could not tell the difference between the time his arm was ripped and this. His right hand latched instinctively around his shaky unorthodox limb, a phantom pain shooting up from it. Those teeth were leaning down, towering, much less fast this time. All the moments in which he doubted to lay a hand on his friend struck him back, right then.

It was only one thing that made him realize Mystery was not there. His heart twisted, as he dwelt on the sickly green on its eyes and claws. They did not hold the same black shade of its fur or skin.

Like…

He had not been able to recall anything past the instant in which he felt his arm shiver that night, not clearly. Not until now. Now, something hammered down all the pieces together in his head, forcefully and brutally. He breathed out shakily as he remembered a little more, something that made him realize why looking for Lewis had been pointless. He now knew why Vivi had seemed to block that memory. He remembered losing sight of him, in a blur, then pain, then blackness. Something did happen, he had known. But he had not imagined he had taken advantage of those spikes below…

Took you long enough to figure it out…

Arthur did not need to hear that unvoiced whisper. In just a moment, he finally pieced together why he had blacked out, why Lewis had disappeared, and why he could not find him. There was no accident, no mystery anymore.

I pushed him.

He did not move an inch when a claw moved over them, not even if Vivi still crouched at his side with him, much less out of it. Her teeth showed as much as Mystery’s did, returning the look of those annoyed but amused eyes.

The claw came down.

Lewis let out what would have been a yell, a ghostly wail instead. He deflated slightly under the talon that had him pinned, believing he had not freed himself in time. It was only when he saw the other claw shake that he realized it had not gone all the way down. It was struggling to slam, because something was pushing it up from below.

Her push against it would not hold for much longer however. Vivi panted and heaved, flinching as her legs fought to stand upright under the weight. Her hands did not let go of the creaking icy bat, not even when she casted a glance backwards, towards Arthur. Even if looking terrified, he was not backing off on the ground, still frozen.

“Arthur, get your ass up, dammit!”

That did it. It did not erase his daze completely, but it did the job.

Lewis growled, not really caring that the blond had finally run off like a coward with a gasp. As much as he had felt troubled about letting him hit those spikes, he still loathed his guts. He still could not understand why he cared about Arthur, why he still remembered enough of their past for him to be in his locket. It hurt, enough for it to have made him go down on his knees inside that truck. Seeing his enemy so scared and clueless, so capable of putting a surprised concerned façade… it made black tar pour out where tears should have gathered.

It made him feel anger, fury… And so, he used that feeling to focus on what he most loved; it was a love with no clouded doubts or indecision. It would not shift, or change, or end.

Vivi.

The devil gasped, as it felt a scorching feeling on its right claw, so contrasting to the icy coldness on its left. Before it could blink with any of its three eyes, a blast of violet shoot all over, blinding them.

Lewis had stood. He was not pinned anymore; his arms were raised high up against the green palm. And all the while, he screamed ghostly, almost hidden in between the flames that surrounded them.

Vivi gasped, relieved that the bat had stood the weight one second longer. Her eyes glinted as she watched the flames, amazement sinking in for the fact that they did not burn.

No, they wouldn’t. Not her. Mystery let out a trembling growl this time, a nervous grunt. At last, it was the one to take a step back, away from both of them.

However, that did not mean it cowered and fled. Vivi yelped when Mystery arched forward suddenly, closing his maws around the skull of the ghost. As quickly, it leaned back, leaving the spirit headless, with a gaping hole at the neck of his hollow suit.

The demon smiled, seeing the body jolt for a moment. A pause, flames still tangling. Its contentment began to falter, as slowly, ever so slowly, smoke pushed out faintly from in between its teeth.

“Mfh…pf.” It tried to swallow. It tried to keep it cool. But it could not hang on with a ghost pepper burning up in its maws. “B-r-raaaaaaawh!”

Like a missile launching off to space, fire shot wildly and rapidly from its throat. A skull bounced out with it, its expression pissed off and done.

As Mystery coughed, whined and wiped some multicolor tails on the scorched tongue, Lewis stepped near his skull and picked it up from the ground. After letting it float over his hollow neck once more, he patted his suit in apparent annoyance, and gave it the same look it had given Lance not too long ago.

It’s on, mutt.

The devil had the same regards for him. It laughed again; Vivi and Lewis subconsciously stepped closer to the other, facing the murderous being as it lost it. Its wild growled laugh echoed, this time much more uneven and maniacal, afraid deep inside but still defiant.

It let them stand together as it lunged with both claws, at the same time.

It did not manage to swipe any of the two. Vivi did not flinch when a gloved hand grasped hers and moved her, pulled her. She twirled instinctively as he swung her sideways, gently but strongly, calculatedly. Somehow, it reminded her of a dance move, one that she somehow felt familiar.

She did not focus on that feeling. As the ghost arched her away from the slamming claws, she build up a yell and outstretched her bat in their motion, taking advantage of the gravity pull. The bat slammed right on Mystery’s ribs, a burst of ice shooting all over the fur and towards the tails.

Lewis smiled as much as he could with only a skull. She regained her balance and then found herself in his firm hold, from which she could free herself easily. They stared at each other for a moment, both seeming to get lost in it… her eyes with wonder, his with affection.

The ghost sighed when that had to end, when a loud crack echoed a few feet away. Mystery’s left side had been completely encased with ice. But as he recovered from the hit, it forced a jolt and broke it off its frame. As the ice hit the ground, it melted due to the heat of Lewis’ flames, which still kept hot at a distance. Water drips fell from its fur and mixed in red, Shiromori’s stab wound open once again.

It was tiring. They could see. Those three eyes were blinking erratically, like if they were fighting to look at different things at once, with multiple minds.

Lewis felt he could win… until it let out the loudest of howls.

Much like when it had first awoken, its body pulsed. Green mist emanated and blasted from its fur, bringing in a brutal rush of air against them.

Vivi screamed and tumbled back; she would have hit her head if Lewis had not slammed his feet and muffled the hit in his arms. The bat fell forgotten a few feet away, as they found themselves pushed towards the scorched remains of a truck.

The yell continued, as the tails untangled and whipped up like snakes. Instead of covering his nonexistent ears with his hands, like he did with the first howl, he shielded hers from the deafening noise. He could do nothing as the sound of nearing steps echoed to them, the screech never stopping or lessening.

Mystery advanced, shielded with such howl… unbothered by the figure that trembled behind near a shattered van.

Arthur hissed, one of his hands on one of his ears. He was not able to raise his other one, because now it was trashing about again, even more wildly. He trembled as the sparks shot all over. His eyes widened as the arm seemed to try to yank him forward, like it had done for the first howl.

He froze, as by looking at the motions of the arm, he spied past the wreckage of the van. The devil was mere steps away now, from them. Inching closer… and with each clawed footstep, his arm mimicked the motion, pulling, outstretching, trashing wildly on their direction.

Arthur knew those maws would stop yelling soon, in order to slam around their bodies, once near enough. The mess would be much harder to fix than a ripped arm, he knew.

And so, he panicked. He began to look all around him, trying to spot anything that he could use to help. He could not care any less about the noise and ringing in his ears, it was lesser than theirs.

Shotgun. Where? Can’t see it. How then? A rock? None, and too weak. Myself? Maybe, if-

An echoing splash stopped his thoughts. Slowly, in a frozen instant, he laid eyes on the puddle of water where Mystery was standing. Its fur was soaked, still cold from the melted ice. Its claws were right on it… surrounded by a conductive trap.

His hand moved all on its own. Not his metallic one.

Mystery screamed now right at the ghost’s face, over his skull and her head. With a shake and gurgle, it got ready to stop howling… but it did not close its maw in a lunge, but in a flinch and jolt.

Sparks shooting through, Mystery’s fur pulsed even more than it could have done due to any possession. An electric current had flowed from a puddle behind his hind legs, quickly running through the stream and up into him. The kitsune let out sounds that would have sounded familiar if not tainted by that unnatural echo.

Lewis and Vivi blinked as Mystery convulsed, scream dying out; he was out of it, those three eyes open wide and unfocused. In a few seconds, the blinding electricity stopped coursing, dying out in smoke.

But it was enough.

A loud thud, a huge gasped growl. Mystery crumbled at their feet, sending a rumble through the ground with his weight. The kitsune did not move again to maul them; fur still pulsing… but less black and green. Both of them stood frozen as he convulsed, mutation seemingly twisting and fading.

As it did, his size was once more less towering and overwhelming. And with that, both could see past his animalistic body. He was not the only one thrown down on the ground, immobile.

“Arthur!”

Lewis frowned as she bolted, spotting the blond sprawled some feet away behind Mystery. She crouched quickly by him, hissing as she brushed a spark that shot out of his still electrified arm. She began to move him away from the puddle, fearing the worst. And as she did so, the ghost watched in animosity, not daring a step towards them both.

He let a few flames rise up on his shoulders, as he glared at the blond with conflicted emotions. Arthur was alive, fainted, perhaps hurt badly, but alive. Still breathing, still able to feel touch or warmth.

Vivi was trying to get him far from any water, deadly afraid they both could get shocked. Her eyes quickly glared at his prosthetic, seeing it twitch and malfunction continuously. She did not know how it could still jolt, not with the smoke coming out of it or its busted outline. The cables that were peeking were barely holding on to the inner battery.

When she reached to take it off… Lewis finally seemed to realize something; something quite obvious, clear as water to anyone with a functioning brain. His ghostly eyes fixed on the metallic arm as Vivi threw it away angrily, letting it tumble on the ground. Slowly, ever so slowly… he pondered on the fact that Arthur was, in fact, crippled. As well, it was important to note which limb he was missing.

Lewis tensed. A cold shiver flowed in his shattered locket. He swore he could feel that left hand on his back again… as he heard a rustle near his feet, fleshy and bloody.

When he glanced down to Mystery with a shudder, it was far too late to see what had crawled out of his bleeding wound.

His fur was no longer black, his claws no longer a sickly green. There were no blinding hues on his tails. His eyes were closed, the two of them. His chest was raising and falling with troubled breaths, severely affected by the bloody hole in it. It was deep, brought by two huge shears… a perfect opening and opportunity.

Something had torn itself out of it. He could only stare at the small trail of blood on the ground, which something had seemed to leave behind as it crawled into the dark.

His eyes moved wildly, glancing into the darkness around them. His locket gained a new crack on it, as the thoughts began to mix into his feelings.

He saw nothing, found no trace of what he feared to see. He wished it was only his imagination, a simple delusion. But as he looked down to Mystery and then towards them… the dark tears could not be stopped, he could not help but shudder.

While avoiding listening to her worried calls and averting his gaze from his fainted figure… he grasped his heart. He opened it slowly, dreadfully. He feared looking into himself, into his own emotion and memory.

The photo had changed again. He stared at it, now much more painfully. They were still there, but not the same. He noted the glints in her lost gaze, the worry in Mystery’s shameful stance, and the pain in his own eyes, his chest showing the deep stab that did him in.

However, all that, he had already known. He could not stop looking at Arthur, his left eye a sickly color; his expression, one of horror.

It was no murder.

[pendragonsandbuckleys]

Snakebite

Summary: As Valiant’s eyes shifted to just behind Merlin’s shoulder, the young warlock realised too late exactly what it was he had collided with. The sudden hissing by his ear made him jump and all it took was two words to plunge his world into darkness.

-

Set in s01e02. After publicly accusing Valiant of using magic, the knight introduces Merlin to the snakes.

Word Count: 5,333

[Also on AO3]

Arthur shouldn’t have dismissed him. It was unjust and mostly unfounded. Valiant was using magic and the King had needed to know, it wasn’t Merlin’s fault that their key witness had not survived to confirm the accusation.

As Merlin left Arthur’s room, his heavy footfall and frustrated thoughts lead him on the path to the dragon locked beneath Camelot. The great beast had given him advice before, so maybe he could do it again, only this time maybe he could be gracious enough to guide Merlin towards his new path as clearly this whole destiny thing was not going to work out.

If Merlin had been paying attention - instead of letting the muscle memory of his feet take charge - he would have noticed that his route was taking him past the chambers of a certain knight that he had just accused of magic, in front of the whole court no less.

And if he had not been so wrapped up in his own vexation, he would have been more alert for when a pair of hands were to grab hold of his tunic and drag him into said chambers.

Valiant shoved the door closed behind them before slamming Merlin against it, his back making violent contact with the wood. The knight gritted his teeth as his thumbs pressed fresh bruises into Merlin’s collarbone. The anger radiating off of him was palpable.

“Telling tales on me to your little Prince, are we?” Valiant muttered between his teeth. His face was so close Merlin could feel the knight’s breath hitting his cheek. Valiant didn’t give him the chance to reply though as he grabbed the front of Merlin’s tunic once more and threw him to the ground.

The rough landing sent shoots of pain up Merlin’s spine and he couldn’t contain the groan that passed his lips. As Valiant began to stalk towards him, Merlin did his best to shuffle backwards, only stopping as his shoulder came into contact with something leaning up against the table leg.

“Uther may not have believed you, but I know these royal types. All it take is one seed of suspicion to be planted for him to question my honour, so if you’ve ruined my chances for tomorrow…”

Valiant’s chest heaved with anger as he spat out his words, but despite how cornered he felt right now, Merlin knew it was an empty threat. He may only be a servant, but he was Prince Arthur’s servant, probably one of the only servants whose missing presence would actually be noticed. Surely Valiant wouldn’t be enraged enough to go through with anything.

But then this was the man brave enough to kill a knight with magic in full view of the King.

As Valiant’s eyes shifted to just behind Merlin’s shoulder, the young warlock realised too late exactly what it was he had collided with.

The sudden hissing by his ear made him jump and all it took was two words to plunge his world into darkness.

“Kill him.”

-

The tournament was nearing its end. One more fight and Arthur would be able to walk into tonight’s banquet with his head held high. All he needed was this one last win and then he would save himself from being viewed as a coward in the eyes of his people. He would prove himself a worthy heir to the throne.

Valiant was a skilled fighter, there was no denying it. The man had quite a violent streak and that brute force approach to swordsmanship may have won him a place in the final, but Arthur could see he was tiring. It wouldn’t be long now until the winner was announced, he was sure of it.

Valiant brought his sword down again in a sloppy downwards swing and it collided with Arthur’s shield. The hit sent Arthur stumbling backwards slightly and Valiant took the opening to get the upper hand as he rained down the blows, sword hitting shield again and again, the force reverberating up Arthur’s arm, driving them both closer and closer to the edge of the arena until Arthur’s back collided with the barrier.

The crowd gasped, leaning back in their seats in surprise as Valiant pinned Arthur against the wood with his shield. As Valiant bent his head and whispered lowly to his shield, Arthur caught his father’s eye from across the arena. Regardless of the circumstances, he could always see when the King’s gaze was on him. Uther looked concerned but whether it was for his son’s life or for the reputation of the Pendragon name, it wasn’t clear.

As Uther’s eyes narrowed, Arthur felt the determination rise up within him. There was no way he was going to lose this fight.

Arthur shoved Valiant as hard as he could muster, before dropping low to roll out of the hold. Just in time too. The fresh gasp from the crowd forced Arthur to quickly turn and face his opponent once more. From their reaction he swiftly prepared himself to dodge a killing blow being dealt his way. He hadn’t expected two snakes to be slithering out of Valiant’s shield.

The serpents snapped in Arthur’s direction, their small tongues hissing at him in an unsettling taunt. A quick glance over at his father showed him standing at the barrier gripping it tightly, anger clear across his features, but there was little the King could do to stop the fight.

Valiant hadn’t meant for them to be seen, that much was clear from his expression, but he wasn’t going to back down now. Without warning, the snakes writhed out of the shield completely and landed on the dirt floor. Their bodies were quick and their fangs sharp, ready to take down their prey. The further Arthur backed away the closer they came and he took the chance to watch their movements. It was like he had told Merlin, once you know your opponent’s weakness you can use it against them. 

This wasn’t like fighting a big, strong guy and using his lack of speed to your advantage though, the snakes were fast with minds of their own that Arthur had no hope of getting into. But as he watched them come closer he noticed that they moved completely in sync with each other, both turning left or right at the same time, both lifting their heads to strike at the same time. All he needed to do was get close enough and with any luck - and the right timing - he should be able to deal with them both simultaneously.

He swiftly moved to the left with nimble footwork that would make his father proud, adding some necessary distance between himself and the creatures. They followed his change of direction, tongues hissing in unison and once they had replotted their kill course, Arthur stood his ground and readied himself, bringing his sword high above his head.

It only took seconds for their bodies to cross the length of the arena, but as soon as they were close enough Arthur feigned swinging his sword towards them, encouraging them to strike prematurely, just as he had hoped they would. As the scaly heads reached waist height Arthur followed through with his swing and sliced the heads clean off.

The near-noiseless thud they made when they hit floor was not nearly as satisfying as it should have been and as their bodies stilled Arthur glanced up to see Valiant’s gleeful sneer turn to confusion, then fear.

With his secret weapon dead and his plan destroyed, Valiant had no choice but to fight. He lunged at Arthur with his sword raised high but the prince blocked it easily. To everyone watching it was more than clear that Arthur was the better fighter. Sword hitting shield, metal striking metal, they danced around the arena locked in this fight to the death and Valiant never even got close to having the upper hand. The fight latest mere moments until Valiant stumbled, his feet catching on the dead body of one of the snakes and those precious few seconds of distraction was all Arthur needed to plunge his sword into Valiant’s stomach. He stumbled again, his breath catching in his throat as he looked up at Arthur before the light faded in his eyes and he dropped to the ground. Defeated. Dead.

The crowd’s cheer filled the air immediately and even Uther looked pleased, clapping his hands as he spoke to Morgana with a smile. Arthur raised his sword in the air and happily basked in the celebration, not only had he won the tournament, he had been proven right in his claims against Valiant.

Turning to grin at his adoring spectators he couldn’t help but notice one face missing from the crowd. Merlin was probably too busy sulking to witness Arthur’s victory and he would be sure to berate the boy for it later. It was a shame not to see him here though, Merlin was the one who brought Valiant’s crimes to his attention after all and Arthur was sure he would have been pleased with this outcome. It’s possible he was too hard on him last night though, so a small part of him wasn’t surprised at the lack of Merlin's presence.

Maybe he would be at the banquet tonight and Arthur would be able to offer his apologies there.

-

Gaius rubbed the last of the ointment into Arthur’s back. The bruises had only just started to form but the cream would be sure to help with the healing process. Arthur was just going to brush off the pain - as he tended to do with every fight - but Gaius had seen how hard he had been slammed into the barrier and he had encouraged Arthur to let him check it out. 

As Arthur patiently waited for Gaius to finish up he glanced around the room. Despite the plenty of time he had spent in this room growing up, it had actually been a while since he had needed to visit the court physician in person. The shelves were stacked with rows upon rows of thick books, the contents of which would be far beyond Arthur’s interest, and the tables were covered in rolled up parchments and small vials of liquid.

There was one bed in the corner, the same one that had been there since Arthur was young, but no sign of anything belonging to Merlin. He was sure that these were his servant’s chambers as well now.

“Is Merlin alright? I think I may have offended him last night.” Arthur asked as Gaius motioned for him to put his shirt back on.

“I haven’t seen him since yesterday evening but I’m sure he’s fine, Sire.” Gaius moved over to the table to deposit the pot of ointment and Arthur frowned, confused. Gaius didn’t seem concerned but surely that wasn’t normal.

“Did he not come home last night?”

“Well, he had a few errands to run so he must have returned after I went to bed. He was gone before I awoke. It is strange that I haven’t seen him but I’m sure he’s off completing his duties.”

Arthur glanced towards the door, half expecting Merlin to clumsily burst in at any second. It was probably nothing, but if neither of them had seen Merlin since last night then maybe he was far more upset than Arthur had anticipated. His reply was abruptly interrupted when the door was flung open to reveal not Merlin, but a flustered young girl standing in the doorway. Her flyaway hair and tidy apron told Arthur that she was a servant but he couldn’t be sure what part of the castle she normally worked in or if he had ever even seen her before.

Her eyes widened at the unexpected sight of the Prince and she gave a small curtsey but she wasn’t swayed from her mission.

“Gaius, I’ve been sent to tell you to prepare for a patient.” She began as she made her way over to the physician. Her voice was soft but she spoke with conviction. “One of the guards is bringing him over now. He was found in Knight Valiant’s chambers.”

“Valiant’s?” Arthur echoed with a whisper.

“Yes Sire. One of the chambermaids had been told to clear the knight’s belongings and she found him in there. I don’t know how bad it is, I was just told to run ahead and prepare you.”

Gaius clasped the young girls hands in his own and thanked her for letting him know. There was no more she could do, the errand was complete and once the patient arrived she would only be in the way. She gave one more curtsey in Arthur’s direction and then left the way she came.

Gaius wasn’t flustered by the news as he quickly walked over to the bed. In his many decades of service he had seen to many ailments and injuries and this would be no different, but it was always nice to be provided with a short amount of time to make ready the room.

He pulled back the covers and righted the pillows, moving a stool closer so he would have a place to sit as he tended to the injury. Then he turned to the shelves to double check what was in the various vials. He wouldn’t know what would be required until he had assessed the patient but it was always good to be prepared.

He was about to dismiss Arthur from the room when a Camelot guard darkened his doorway, a young man held over his shoulder.

Arthur’s eyes widened at the sight of his unconscious servant. His skin was horrifyingly pale and his arms hung limply as the guard carried him over to the freshly prepared bed. Never before had he witnessed Gaius fazed in the face of a patient, but even the old physician seemed to be struggling with the sudden situation.

“I’m not sure how long he was in the knight’s side room, but he was like this when the maid found him.” The guard informed them as Gaius stepped closer and began to observe his patient. He quickly thanked the guard, effectively dismissing him, before getting to work. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest at the sight of his ward but, taking a deep breath, he tried to put his fears aside. They would do no good for Merlin after all.

Placing the back of his hand to Merlin’s forehead revealed how warm and dry the boy’s skin was. A fever, no doubt, potentially brewing for hours now without any relief. Next he placed a hand to Merlin’s wrist, frowning at the slow pulse beating beneath his fingertips. These two symptoms on their own could mean a number of different things, but the mirroring of Sir Ewan’s ailments and the fact that Merlin was found in Valiant’s chambers could only mean one thing.

There were no visible marks on the uncovered areas of his body, but gently turning Merlin’s head to the side revealed what Gaius was looking for. Just behind his ear were two small puncture wounds matching those of a snakebite.

“Is he going to be okay?” Arthur asked, his quietly spoken question making Gaius jump. He had forgotten that the prince was still in the room, though he wasn’t at all surprised that he had stayed. Arthur was rarely one to willingly show concern, much preferring for his macho bravado to be the trait he was known for, but Gaius could clearly see the prince’s worry for his servant.

Arthur’s eyes roamed over Merlin’s body, taking in the unnatural stillness. If Valiant had done this, it had to have been before the tournament and if Gaius was wrong and Merlin had never made it home last night, he could have been in Valiant’s chambers alone, injured, dying, all this time.

“He’s been bitten by a snake.” Gaius confirmed as he moved over to the table. There were many vials and jars littering the surface, but only one contained the leftover snake venom.

“Can you heal him?”

“I should be able to. I’ll just need to recreate the antidote I made for Sir Ewan.”

Arthur nodded distractedly as he watched the slow rise and fall of Merlin’s chest. He truly couldn’t explain the strange vibrations of fear coursing through his body. Merlin was just a servant after all, there had been plenty before him and would no doubt be plenty after him, so why was Arthur so worried for the boy’s health?

He was about to take a seat by Merlin’s side when Gaius’ words fully registered in his mind causing him to look up sharply. “But Sir Ewan died.”

“I know, Arthur, but it’s the only solution I’ve got.”

Gaius picked up the jar of snake venom and surveyed its contents, the few drops sliding along the bottom as he tilted it. He had used most of the venom up when creating the first antidote and it didn’t look like there was enough for a second.

“What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, not liking Gaius’ frown and lack of action. One look at Merlin told him that he needed the antidote immediately, so why wasn’t Gaius moving?

“I don’t have enough left to create another antidote. I’m going to need more venom.”

“From the snakes?”

Gaius nodded in confirmation and Arthur didn’t need to be asked. The decapitated heads of the two serpents had been left to rot on the arena floor and if retrieving them was all that was needed, he would get it done. He barely got his words out, informing Gaius that he would return with what was needed, before he was out of the door.

-

Camelot prided itself on the many tournaments it held the honour of hosting, from jousting contests to melees and whether to support their Prince or to enjoy a few days of entertainment, all townsfolk enjoyed attending. The crowds always formed thick and fast and the stands were always full. But at the end of such festivities, these townsfolk did not go straight home. No, they took the opportunity to visit the tavern or peruse the market or enjoy the sunlight in the courtyard.

And on any other day it would be a joy to see his people so happy and fulfilled. But not today, not when the huge crowds were hindering his every movement and slowing his every step. Arthur barely registered the occasional curtseys and bows and calls of congratulations from his fellow knights. He bumped into several people and knocked the bread basket out of one poor old lady’s arms, but eventually he made it to the arena.

There were a few remaining people dotted around the stands, a group of young ladies talking animatedly in one corner, an older man and woman in another, but he paid them no mind. His only focus was on grabbing the snakes and getting back to Gaius.

Which should have been the easy part, except they weren’t there. The arena floor may be big, but the heads and bodies of two magical snakes weren’t exactly easy to miss and yet the dirt floor was free of any and all creatures.

Arthur looked around hastily, hoping to spot them lying in a pile to one side, but there was no sign of them. He could feel himself starting to panic slightly, if he couldn’t find them, Merlin was no doubt going to die all because of Arthur’s embarrassment and shame at being dismissed by the King. Last night he had pushed his servant away when he was only trying to help and now because of that, Merlin was barely clinging to life. Arthur had failed him.

He must have looked a right state, chest heaving, eyes darting about wildly, for the older couple to stand up and call over to him. It wasn’t that he felt too above the villagers to speak with them, it’s just that engaging in conversation was more Morgana’s domain. With Arthur, people tended to just bow politely and move on.

“Sire, is everything alright?” The lady asked, her tone calm. The gentle smile she gave him encouraged Arthur to step closer. If she and her husband had not left the arena yet, maybe they had witnessed what had happened.

“The snakes, did someone take them?”

“Yes Sire, they’ve taken them to be burned. They may be dead but they were still magic, the King didn’t want them left in the arena. One of the guards asked our sons to get it done so we’re just waiting for them here.”

Arthur blinked in surprise. He should have known that his father would want them destroyed as soon as possible, but his mind had been so focused on getting here that he hadn’t even considered it. “Burned? When was this?” 

“Not long ago, you’ve only just missed them. They took them to the fire that the knights warm themselves by near the stables.”

The route to the stables quickly flashed in Arthur’s mind. Heading back through the town would mean facing the sea of people once more, but even with the obstruction it was probably quicker than taking the back route around the walls of the castle.

He took off with a start, only remembering his manners as he reached the edge of the arena as he turned and shouted his thanks to the couple. They nodded gratefully and watched him go on his way.

The same groups of people were loitering around the town - the young boy brushing the mane of his horse, the man selling cloths from the front of his stall, the washer woman trying to wrangle her seven children - but they seemed more alert this time as they moved out of his way, creating a clear path to follow. He would have thanked them if he thought he had the time, but right now his only aim was to reach those snakes before all hopes of an antidote were gone forever.

It took longer than he would have liked, but after rounding the last corner Arthur could see the fire up ahead. It crackled loudly as the flames licked the air, only growing higher as something long and green was thrown into the heat.

“Stop!” He yelled as he closed the gap between him and the key to the antidote. The two boys standing near the flames looked around for the source of the booming voice and were instantly surprised at the sight of the prince running towards them. They glanced at each other in fear, terrified that they had done something wrong.

As Arthur reached them he could see one snake head held loosely in the smaller boy’s grip, but no sign of the other. He held out his hand for the boy to pass it over. “Did you already burn the others?” He demanded, swallowing around the dryness of his throat.

The boy turned to what Arthur could only assume was his older brother, his eyes pleading for him to answer on their behalf. Now that they were up close, Arthur could see how nervous they were and he suddenly felt bad for causing it. “It’s okay, you’re not in trouble, I just need to know.”

“Yes Sire, that was the last one.” The older boy pointed to the head in Arthur’s hand as he wrapped an arm around his brother in a protective gesture. Arthur smiled down at them, thankful for their honesty and though his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it seemed to do the job as he sent the boys on their way.

The scaly skin under his fingertips felt so unnatural and the sight of the fangs up close reminded him of how close they had come to biting him this morning. One wrong move and he would be suffering the same fate as Merlin right now.

Wasting no more time he made his way back to Gaius, praying that one snake head would be enough.

-

Arthur would never have noticed a singular squeaky floorboard in the entirety of Gaius’ room if he hadn’t kept standing on it during his pacing. It had become a monotonous pattern that he was sure was getting on Gaius’ nerves.

Bed - table - squeak - door.

Door - squeak - table - bed.

He had stopped being able to sit still after the first hour, prompting Gaius to offer to fetch him later if he wished to leave, but after Arthur’s third refusal they had lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Creating the antidote had been easy - Gaius had done it once before and seemed confident that it had been prepared correctly - and giving it to Merlin had been simple enough. But that had been hours ago with no change in Merlin’s condition since.

“He’s not getting any worse, Arthur, so we can only assume that it’s doing its job.” Gaius reminded him as he reached the bed once more. Merlin’s fever had yet to break so the physician had been attempting to keep it from rising with the occasional dab of a water soaked cloth to his forehead. It was concerning to see the boy in such a state, but there was little more he could do for him until the antidote took effect.

“But why is it taking so long? You said it took Ewan barely five minutes to awaken.”

“If we’re correct and Merlin was poisoned last night, that means the venom’s been in his blood for a long time, a lot longer than Sir Ewan had been forced to endure it. Maybe he just needs more time.”

Arthur took a seat on the vacant stool with a huff ignoring the strange look Gaius was throwing in his direction. He could tell that Gaius was intrigued as to why he was still there, why he was so concerned for Merlin’s health, but Arthur didn’t know what to say. Regardless of how much he would never admit to it, it was largely due to the guilt that was still sitting at the forefront of his mind. If he had never gotten angry with Merlin and pushed him away, they wouldn’t be in this mess. If he had just fought harder with his father on the issue of Valiant’s crimes, they definitely wouldn’t be in this mess.

But it was also more than that. Only one month had passed since Merlin had been appointed as his servant and already a strange sort of bond had been formed between them. Merlin was terrible at his job at the best of times, turning up late, forgetting to bring his breakfast, making errors with his armour, but when Merlin had told him about Valiant, Arthur had brought the accusations straight to his father. No hesitations, no questions asked, he had trusted Merlin’s word wholeheartedly.

Never before had he experienced that with a servant and he didn’t want to risk losing this one.

“I need to get some fresh water. Are you okay to watch him until I get back?” Gaius asked suddenly, studying him carefully and Arthur felt an awful lot of pressure in that gaze. On one hand he should offer to go himself, he was faster, stronger and definitely didn’t have the knowledge that Merlin required right not. But on the other hand, fetching the water would mean leaving the room, leaving Merlin, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to do that.

Gaius must have known that too as he was clearly unsurprised by his answer. He trusted that Arthur would keep a close eye on Merlin whilst he was gone and so wasted no time in grabbing a bucket and heading down to the pump.

With the two of them alone in the room, Arthur felt an unusual amount of pressure on keeping Merlin alive. He was mostly sure that Merlin wasn’t about to die in the few minutes that Gaius was gone, but to prevent tempting fate, Arthur decided to pick up where Gaius left off.

He moved to Gaius’ chair on the other side of the bed and picked up the cloth from the bowl. The water was losing the coolness that would usually be beneficial when trying to nurse a fever, but it would have to do.

He squeezed the excess water out of the cloth and held it to Merlin’s forehead. It was impossible to tell if it was helping at all - it hadn’t seemed to help for the hours that Gaius was doing it - but it made Arthur feel a bit better. As he watched Merlin for any sign of waking he noticed a drop of water roll away from the cloth and onto Merlin’s eyelid.

Without thinking, he brushed the droplet off Merlin’s eyelashes and as he did so he felt them flutter under his thumb. It was only small movement, barely noticeable and probably just wishful thinking, but as Arthur watched closely he saw them move again. A tiny flicker to match the small frown forming on Merlin’s brow.

“Merlin?” He whispered encouragingly, turning to place the cloth back into the bowl so he could give his servant his full attention. It took a long few seconds but eventually Merlin’s eyes slowly blinked open.

“Ow.” Merlin muttered weakly as he let out a small groan. His mouth was dry, his head ached, his whole body felt like it was on fire and he had no idea why. He let his gaze wander before it settled on Arthur, sitting at the side of his bed with a strange grin on his face. He had never seen Arthur grin before and especially not one directed towards him.

Then it all came rushing back to him. The tournament, the snakes, the King’s anger, Arthur’s dismissal, Valiant grabbing him-

“Valiant.” Merlin gasped as his eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. The sudden movement sent a rush of pain through his body as Arthur’s hand on his shoulder encouraged him to relax. It only half occurred to Merlin that Arthur’s presence at his bedside was strange and unexpected, but the throbbing in his head seemed to overshadow that thought.

“It’s okay Merlin, he’s dead.” 

“Dead?” Merlin echoed, watching Arthur through squinted eyes. The prince was looking at him almost reassuringly and he didn’t know whether to feel relaxed or uncomfortable. Why was Arthur sitting with him? In Merlin’s limited experience of sickness he had believed that that spot was usually filled by family or friends. He wasn’t even Arthur’s servant anymore, let alone anything greater, so it certainly was strange. “Where’s Gaius?”

“He’ll be back soon.” Arthur looked nervously towards the door, hoping that Gaius wouldn’t be too much longer. Now that Merlin was awake he felt wholly unqualified to help. “Don’t worry, he hasn’t left your side since they found you.”

“Found me?” Merlin whispered sleepily. He was hardly able to keep his eyes open, desperately trying to fight the pull of sleep without much success. Arthur chuckled as he watched Merlin’s eyes close completely and his breathing even out. Despite the healing he still had left to do, Arthur was beyond glad that he had woken up, no matter how briefly.

He may not have known Merlin for long, but a short-lived glimpse into life without him around didn’t look very appealing - or fun. And once Merlin was better he would rectify that. First he would scold him for letting himself get bitten by Valiant’s snakes, but then he would apologise for being unfair last night and immediately reinstate him.

Until then, his father was no doubt wishing to speak to him. Between his embarrassment in front of the court yesterday and his victory today there was a lot to discuss. Also, Morgana was possibly wondering where he had vanished to. He would definitely need to show his face at the banquet later for as much as she annoyed him, it was his duty as champion to escort her.

But for now, he was right where he was needed.