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legends-of-time · 9 months ago

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Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 44: The Coming of Arthur Part Two

Masterlist

A/N: I think this is my longest chapter yet.

——

Amelia's POV

Amelia silently makes her way down the hall of the Dungeons, slipping bread to Sir Leon and as many of the other Knights as she can without alerting the Guards who are watching her from down the hall. Amelia has been miserable in the week since Morgana's coronation. She is just trying to be strong, to keep at least some sense of control of Morgause and Morgana until they find their chance to stop them.

It is hard though, the Knights are fierce and defiant, refusing Morgause and Morgana at every turn, refusing to pledge their allegiance to them when the women demand it. Amelia had hoped that they would realise that she does not want this to happen, and it seems they do by the way they greet her with a smile and whisper thanks when she tries to sneak them more food though it's not much and Amelia can see they're still very hungry.

She tries to keep her sisters from outright killing them for their defiance though, spouting something about how if the Knights of Camelot kneel to Morgana's reign, then so will the people who still remain hesitant. She can tell though that her sisters are growing restless.

——

Guards drag a dazed and weakened Sir Leon into the Council Chambers before throwing him at Morgana's feet. All the Immortal army now wear a uniform just like Camelot's had done but it is black with an image of the Rowan oak in red. The same imagery is everywhere Amelia looks, reminding her of the change in leadership.

Morgana grins from where she is seated on the throne, wearing the crown on her head. Morgause smirks from where she stands to Morgana's right while Amelia stands on her left watching anxiously with Anne and Gwen standing slightly further back.

"Tell me, Sir Leon, how have you enjoyed the first week of my reign?" Morgana asks. Sir Leon remains silent. Morgana's face hardens. "Speak up. Are you and your fellow Knights ready to honour and serve me?"

"I would rather die." Leon declares.

"That can be arranged." Morgause remarks happily.

"My loyalty is to the King and Prince Arthur. There is nothing you can do to change that."

"We shall see." Morgana nods and two Guards drag Sir Leon out of the room.

——

Despite Amelia's protests, the Camelot Knights are standing in a line in the Square with the people gathered around them. The Immortal Soldiers are lined up in front of them.

Morgana addresses them from the Castle Balcony. "I will give you one more chance to pledge your allegiance to me."

The Soldiers threaten the Camelot Knights with their crossbows. Sir Leon and Morgana stare at each other. He smiles.

"Long live the King!"

"Long live the King!" The other Knights echo.

"Perhaps this will help you change your mind." Morgana gives a signal. Soldiers turn towards the crowd and they use their crossbows. People scream and start running to escape the arrows. Amelia gasps and covers her mouth so she doesn't scream in horror. How can her sister do this? What has she become?

——

Amelia watches in dismay from a window as the Soldiers are collecting corpses from the Square. She doesn't like this person that's impersonating her sister. Amelia is more determined than ever that she needs to defeat her sisters.

Amelia retreats to her Chambers with a bucket of water that she places on top of her dining table and waves her hand over it, channelling her magic.

Amelia peers into the water and her spirits are lifted by the sight of Merlin, Arthur, Gaius, Gwaine and Elyan in a Cave. This confirms that they are all still alive. What is needed now is to get to them.

There's a knock on her door and Amelia immediately stops scrying and puts the bucket on the floor and calls, "Come in!"

Anne and Gwen walk in with some bedding and a tea tray. Amelia sighs in relief that it's these two. Soon after Morgause and Morgana had taken over Camelot, Amelia and Anne had quickly recruited Gwen into their little band of rebels and the three of them have been biding their time to strike.

"My Lady." Anne greets while Gwen simply smiles. Amelia can see their cheerfulness is slightly dimmed and Amelia can't blame them. This morning's massacre was awful.

"Gwen, Anne." Amelia greets back. "Are you ready?"

Gwen places the tray on the table and sets it out while Anne makes quick work changing Amelia's sheets. Whenever the three of them meet up, the two maids always came up with an excuse of why they are there to not raise Morgana and Morgause's suspicions of a coup.

Gwen nods. "Yes, I'm planning to ask Morgana today."

Before they can say anymore, the door suddenly opens and Morgana strolls in. She smiles as she looks at the tea on the table. "Tea?"

"I felt you deserved a cup." Amelia says calmly, trying not to show any of her anxiety as she takes a seat. She gestures to one of the other dining chairs. "Please have a set, Your Majesty."

Morgana grins as she sits across from her. "I don't think I will ever get over hearing the words 'Your Majesty' being spoken to me."

"Nor should you." Amelia declares. "You deserve this, Morgana. It is your birth right."

Morgana sighs. "If only everyone saw that."

"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" Anne asks. Amelia thinks Anne does quite a good job at covering up how she's feeling about all this.

"I'm beginning to see the challenges that I face. Being Queen is not so simple." Morgana frowns.

"You're doing well, Your Majesty." Gwen reassures her as she serves them tea.

Morgana scoffs. "You think? The Knights do not share your view."

"It is because they don't know you." Amelia reasons, placing her hand in Morgana's in a reassuring gesture.

Morgana smiles softly, breaking Amelia's heart as she sees the old Morgana sometimes when she smiles like that.

"Thank you, Amelia." Morgana murmurs. "But I need their allegiance. Without that, the people will not yield to me."

Gwen looks to Amelia unsure and Amelia nods in encouragement. "My mother was a maid in Sir Leon's household. We grew up together. I could talk to him, try to make him see sense?" The maid suggests.

Morgana's expression is unreadable. "You would do that for me?"

"Uther killed my father."

"We have all suffered because of him." Amelia remarks, unbeknownst to Anne and Gwen, she really does mean it. "Well sister? I think it's a great plan. Worth a shot."

Morgana nods thoughtfully. "I will arrange it."

"Thank you, Tour Majesty." Gwen bows to Morgana and leaves the room. Amelia wants to see if Morgana is truly fooled and nods to Anne, who understands the signal and leaves.

Morgana watches her leave closely before turning to Amelia. "Morgause believes Anne and Gwen are betraying us."

Amelia tries to hide her fear and panic by presenting it as a shock. "You can't be serious?! What makes her think this?"

"The two always seem to be conspiring with each other and we both know of Gwen's feelings for Arthur."

At least neither of Amelia's sisters had made the connection that Amelia herself has been a part of the conspiring as well. This isn't good but Amelia can work with this. As long as Morgana and Morgause don't get to the hideout, they can use this as it'll make it easier for them to get out of Camelot. Small mercies.

Amelia nods. "Yes, I have noticed it but I didn't dare think of such a betrayal. What does our sister suggest we do?"

"Gwen's talk with Sir Leon will provide a perfect opportunity." Morgana smirks. "And make sure Anne is with her, we need to be certain."

——

Amelia does as her sister asks but also warns Anne about the spying just in case she or Gwen say something incriminating about Amelia but not to reveal it to Gwen. Anne had wondered whether they should go through with the plan but Amelia insists this is their best chance.

The door of Sir Leon's Cell opens and Gwen and Anne come in. Hidden next to the Cell just above, Morgana, Amelia and Morgause watch and listen.

Leon stands in surprise. "Guinevere! Anne!"

Anne hands him a small amount of food. "It's all we could get; I know you haven't been eating."

"I don't understand. What are you doing here?" He starts eating greedily. Amelia watches sadly, despite her best efforts, she knows that the Knights are still hungry and this just proves it.

"Morgana sent us... to talk to you, to make you see sense." Gwen explains. Leon spits out the food. "Listen to us."

"I'd rather starve. Guard!"

"We're going to help you escape." Gwen hurriedly murmurs to him causing him to pause. She turns to what Amelia can only assume is a Guard after hearing footsteps. "It's alright. Get me some water." Nothing happens and Gwen raises her voice. "The Queen has instructed us to get the prisoner food and water." Footsteps retreat.

"You know what will happen to you if you're caught." Leon murmurs to her. Amelia's eyes flicker to Morgana and Morgause. Too late.

"We have to find Arthur and Merlin." Anne persists.

"I've a good idea where they'll be hiding."

"Then we need to get you out of here."

"How? It's impossible, surely?"

"We're trusted members of the Court." Gwen argues. "Morgause has the keys to the Cells in her Chambers."

"No, Gwen, Anne..."

"It is as we suspected. They've betrayed us. I will have them executed at dawn." Morgana declares.

Amelia looks at her sister in alarm. "We cannot be too hasty, sister!"

Morgana frowns. "What do you mean?"

"What if we let them escape? Let her go to her beloved Arthur, she will lead us straight to him." Amelia argues. This will hopefully make Anne, Gwen and Leon's escape easier and all Amelia has to do is to stop the pursuit without any suspicions.

Morgause nods. "She's right, sister. Then we can be rid of the Prince once and for all."

Morgana smirks and nods in agreement.

——

Morgana and Amelia enter the former's Chambers to enact the next part of their 'plan'. Gwen is lighting candles as they enter. The maid gives them a small smile.

"Did you speak to Sir Leon?" Morgana questions 'innocently'.

"Yes."

"And will he do as you asked?" Amelia asks. She sends her a questioning look as if to ask if the actual plan is in place even though she knows herself, but if Gwen knew then she wouldn't go through with it.

Gwen smiles and nods at her. "It might take some time, but I think he will come 'round."

"Gwen!" Morgana grins big and wide before walking over to where drinks are laid out nearby. "This deserves a celebration."

Amelia can only see her back but knows that Morgana is pouring some of the tracking potion into one of the glasses.

"Your Majesty." Gwen looks uncomfortable. Amelia reaches over and squeezes her hand.

Morgana comes back with three glasses causing Amelia to let go of Gwen, handing them out then raises a toast. "To friendship and loyalty."

Amelia swallows thickly as she echoes Morgana's words along with Gwen. She just wants out of this nightmare.

——

Anne's POV

Gwen and Anne set to work stealing the key, duplicating it and delivering it to Leon. Anne feels nervous the entire time, knowing that Morgause and Morgana are already onto them but Amelia reassures her this is their best chance to save Camelot and had promised that her sisters won't find them. Anne was reluctant but agreed, she trusts Amelia and really misses Merlin.

That night when the warning bells sound, Gwen and Anne wait in the former's house already dressed to travel with their bags for Leon's arrival. The Knight soon barges inside.

"We haven't got time to waste." Gwen tells him as she hurriedly shuts the door. She hands him a dress.

He looks at the dress in disbelief. "You...you can't be serious."

Anne looks at him in disbelief and irritation. "Does any of that silly notion stuff matter right now?! You need to be in disguise or the Guards will recognise you! Now put it on!"

"Augh." Leon grumbles before beginning to change. Gwen and Anne turn their backs.

——

Amelia's POV

Amelia is with her sisters when the bells sound. They leap up and hurry to a window with different reasons as to why they are so eager to see what has happened.

"Sounds like the wait is over," Morgana says as they move to the window and watch the three runaways escaping from Camelot. Amelia internally sighs in relief. At least one part of the plan is going well. It's her turn now.

"Beo þu leohte bewunden!" Morgause chants. A glimmering path appears, showing the trail of the runaways. "The potion does its work."

Morgana glares after the figures. "Off you go. Hurry along to your beloved Prince."

"I must go after them soon. I'll take a band of Soldiers with me." Morgause tells them. "Then we will have Arthur at our mercy."

An idea comes to Amelia. "No wait. What if I do it?"

Morgause and Morgana look at her in concern and Amelia really wishes they wouldn't look at her like that. It almost makes her feel bad for lying.

"Are you sure, sister?" Morgause asks.

Amelia nods. "I want to prove myself."

Morgana gives her a warm smile. "You already have, sister."

It's not her she's proving herself to. "Thank you, sister. But I still want to help and Morgause is needed here to help you secure the Knight's allegiances."

Morgause nods her consent and instructs Amelia on what she needs to do.

——

Amelia follows after Gwen, Anne and Leon with Immortal Soldiers following her. She stops and looks around before casting the spell Morgause taught her.

"Scin scire!" The glimmering trail appears through the woods. "That way." Amelia murmurs to herself.

She glances back at the Soldiers waiting diligently behind her. It won't do having them follow her to the hideout.

"Ic þé wiþdrífe!" She cries. The Soldiers fly backwards and land on the ground unmoving. Amelia sighs with relief before running away hurriedly, following the trail, as she doesn't know when they are going to wake up.

She reaches the Cave and skids to a stop as Elyan appears and assumes a defensive position, his sword raised at her.

"Elyan, please, I mean no harm. I just need to speak to Arthur." Amelia pleads.

Elyan frowns distrustfully at her then Arthur, Gaius, Merlin, Gwaine, Leon, Anne and Gwen emerge from the Cave. As soon as they see her, Arthur and Gwaine glare and also point their swords at her.

Amelia looks at them in alarm. "Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan. Please lower your swords. I don't mean any harm."

"I think not, you traitor." Arthur growls, stepping closer to her with the sword.

She looks pleadingly at the others, she can see she has Gwen, Anne, Merlin and Gaius' support but Leon is impassive. She doesn't blame Elyan for not trusting her but when she sees Gwaine's mistrustful look, it really hurts.

"Gwaine?" She pleads. He doesn't change.

"Arthur," Merlin begins, stepping forward, "she's right. She's not with Morgana and Morgause."

"How can I be sure? And how do you know?" Arthur demands to know. His glare hurts.

"He's right Sire." Leon then argues. "She's been helping me and the Knights during Morgana's reign. She's risked her own sisters' anger to help Anne, Gwen and I to escape."

Arthur still looks mistrustful when he looks at her but he's not as hostile as he frowns at her in confusion. "You're not with them?"

Amelia shakes her head vigorously. "No. I've been against their plans for Camelot from the start. I've only been pretending to be on their side to find out their plans in order to foil them." She blinks back her tears. "Arthur, I'm sorry, I wanted to tell you."

Arthur is quiet for a second. "Then why didn't you?"

"Would you have believed me?" Amelia asks. "More importantly, would Uther have believed me? Morgana is his daughter, not me. He would always pick her over me. And there would go my advantage about knowing their plans."

"How can I believe you?"

Amelia swallows, she has to word what she says next carefully. "You know me, Arthur. You grew up with me, you've known me all your life. I'm loyal to you, Arthur, and Camelot."

Gwen steps forward and puts her hand on Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur, I believe her. She's been working with Anne and I during the past week so that we could save Camelot."

Arthur nods at her and turns back to Amelia. "I'm going to find it hard to trust now. You will need to prove yourself."

Amelia sighs. "I will I promise Arthur. But we don't have time. I had Morgana's men following me, but I evaded them before they could ambush you. We need to go."

"She's right Arthur." Merlin argues. "Trust her or not, we have to go. Those Soldiers will find us soon if they haven't already."

Arthur nods.

"They're going to follow us. How are we going to stop them?" Elyan wonders.

Footsteps then can be heard above them in the ditch they all stand in. Everyone panics and those with swords, including Amelia as she knows she can't rely on her magic with Arthur and others around, point them in that direction. Two men emerge. Amelia definitely knows she doesn't know who one is, a giant man. But the other looks familiar to Amelia but she can't place him, her memories are fuzzy.

"Lancelot!" Gwen gasps in surprise. Lancelot?! How could Amelia have forgotten him?

"We need to hurry." Lancelot says to them.

He gives a nod to the man next to him. The man nods back and walks to a pile of large rocks on a ledge not far from them.

"Look out!" He says as he begins pushing at the rocks. Everyone ducks and Amelia gapes in amazement as one huge rock falls and blocks the way, followed by dozens.

——

A little later, they rest in the forest. Amelia hesitantly follows Arthur as he walks over to Lancelot and the unknown man.

"I suppose I must thank you." Arthur comments in a way of greeting.

Lancelot introduces a giant, who looks rather shy. "This is Percival. It was his strength that brought them down."

"Your Highness." Percival bows.

"Arthur." The Prince corrects, offering him a hand to shake.

Percival smiles in surprise but returned the handshake. "Arthur it is."

He looks at Amelia, she smiles kindly at him. He blushes and looks away from her. Interesting. She can't help but smile at the sight of such a large man being shy around her of all people. She admits he's quite cute.

"And this is Amelia." Lancelot introduces happily but Amelia can see him frown in concern about how tense Arthur then becomes at the mention of her name.

"It's lovely to meet you." Amelia says kindly, trying to ignore Arthur and not show how much it hurts. She offers her hand and Percival shyly shakes it.

"What were you doing here?" Arthur questions.

"Er... it was me." Merlin says, hurrying over to them. "I sent for him."

"Well, we owe you our lives. Thank you." Arthur says. Arthur and Lancelot shake hands. Gwen and Lancelot exchange glances and Amelia winces at that. Someone's heart is definitely going to get broken.

——

Now they need a new hideout so they all move out to a new location. They are mostly walking in single file or pairs. Amelia lingers at the back as she knows Arthur, who's leading, isn't exactly comfortable with her right now.

They reach a large fallen tree on their journey so they all take their turn to climb over. Amelia is about to take her turn when a large hand appears in her eye-line. She looks up and sees that it's Percival who's giving a soft small smile.

"Oh, thank you." She murmurs as she takes it and he helps her over the tree and they join the others as they continue walking. "You must know now why Arthur, Gwaine and Elyan don't trust me right now despite the other's words yet you aren't acting standoffish with me. Why?"

"You haven't done anything except help us." The gentle giant replies softly.

"Thank you. May I ask, how did you come to know Lancelot?" Amelia questions.

"I met Lancelot not too long after the Immortal army had raided my Village and killed my family." Percival explains sadly.

Amelia furrows her eyebrows. Must've been the work of Morgause when she gained control of the army from Cenred. "I'm so sorry."

He gives her a thankful smile. "As a result of the attack, I knew I must fight against everything to do with Morgana and Morgause."

Amelia smiles hesitantly. "Not everything I hope."

"No, not everything." They share a soft smile before he quickly clears his throat and looks away. "When Lancelot received a message from Merlin requesting his aid in Arthur's bid to retake the Kingdom from Morgana, I decided to accompany him to Camelot."

"Thank you, we need all the help we can get." She suddenly accidentally slips, but thankfully she's saved from face planting the floor by Percival quickly grabbing her arm and settling her right.

"My Knight in shining armour." Amelia comments teasingly. They share a chuckle.

——

They reach some ruins of an old Castle. They enter a vaulted room. It is dark, the furniture is covered with spider webs. They all follow Arthur, holding torches.

"Are you sure we'll be safe in here?" Gaius asks.

"This Castle belonged to the ancient Kings. It'll do for a while." Arthur reassures.

"Can't be worse than that Cave." Elyan grumbles.

"Search the place, see what you can find." Arthur tells them. They scatter and start searching.

Those still giving mistrustful looks to her are Arthur, Gwaine and Elyan. Thankfully the others know the truth, or like Percival, has only just joined all this and hasn't exactly formed an opinion. Arthur is understandable, but it hurts Amelia to see that even Gwaine is looking at her like she has betrayed them. They are waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Anne and Merlin can tell that something is bothering her because they look from where Amelia is watching Gwaine over to her from their spot in front of the fire that they are making.

"Ignore him, Amelia." Anne tells her.

Amelia huffs. "How can I?"

"He knows you, he cares about you, Amelia. As does Elyan and Arthur. They'll come round." Merlin tries to reassure her.

"What if they don't? What if they're never going to trust me again?" Amelia laments.

"They will. You'll prove it to them." Anne declares determinedly.

Amelia shakes her head. "I lied to them all. I didn't say anything to them about Morgana. I hurt them by not saying anything. I could've stopped all this. I'm just as bad as them."

"Hey." Merlin says. He grabs her shoulders and turns her so she's facing him and Anne. They've given up on the fire by this point. "You are nothing like them, okay? You're here, with us, where you belong. Nothing is going to change that."

Amelia nods slightly. "Yeah, okay."

"Now say it like you mean it, with that smile of yours." Anne says, nudging her at the word 'smile'.

Amelia finally offers them a smile. "This is where I belong, and nothing is going to change that."

Merlin huffs. "That's the best we're going to get, isn't it?"

Amelia nods. "Yes."

Gwaine returns, holding an armful of weapons as he dumps them on one of the small tables. "They must've been left by bandits." He deduces.

Amelia looks over at Arthur, who looks under a sheet at a table that Gaius sits at, and her heart is starting to hammer as she realises what the table is. Amelia may have lost her knowledge of the show, but she still does remember some things of the King Arthur legend, most famously... Arthur rips the sheet off, revealing a large round table that is surrounded by chairs.

"Here!" Arthur calls out, and the others all raise their heads to look at him. "Come and join me." Arthur looks around the room at them and his gaze finally stops on Amelia. He nods his head at the table, and she feels a little hope bubble in her as she realises this is an invitation to sit at the round table with them.

They all take a seat around the table. Arthur stands, between Merlin and Gwen.

"This table belonged to the ancient Kings of Camelot." Arthur speaks. "A round table afforded no one man more importance than any other. They believed in equality in all things. So, it seems fitting that we revive this tradition now. Without each of you, we would not be here..."

Amelia and Anne exchange glances and smile.

"My father has languished in prison for too long. Tomorrow, I make my bid to rescue him. Are there any around this table who will join me?"

Lancelot is the first one to stand. "You taught me the values of being a Knight, the code by which a man should live his life. To fight with honour for justice, freedom, and all that's good. I believe in the world that you will build."

Elyan takes his turn. "Even though I was a commoner, a nobody, you were willing to lay down your life for me, Arthur. It is now my turn to repay you."

Arthur is looking more and more moved.

Leon stands. "I have fought alongside you many times. There is no one that I would rather die for."

"I think we've no chance." Gwaine remarks then smirks as he stands. "But I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Percival stands and simply declares, "Your enemies are my enemies."

"If you need an old man." Gaius says once he stands.

Arthur is barely holding back his tears. Amelia doesn't blame him. Maybe they all really have a chance.

Anne stands. "I'll join, if only to keep an eye on Merlin." Everyone chuckles at that and Merlin fondly rolls his eyes.

Amelia takes a breath and stands up; she gives them a small smile. "I know some of you don't trust me now, but I swear that I will prove it to you. There's no other group of people I would rather fight with. I hope you will accept me."

She looks over to Arthur hesitantly and he thankfully gives her a nod with his own small smile.

"You know the answer." Gwen simply says. Arthur gives her a nod of gratitude.

There's silence and a certain manservant seems to be not making any sign that he's moving any time soon.

"Merlin?" Arthur prompts.

Merlin ponders for a moment before remarking, "No, don't really fancy it."

"You don't have a choice, Merlin."

"OK." He stands and he and Arthur share a grin. Amelia huffs to herself amusedly. Typical Merlin.

"I want to thank you all for staying loyal to me in Camelot's hour of need." Arthur says. "I'll do something that my father won't approve of."

Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan kneel in front of Arthur. Each man Arthur knights then declares their new title.

"Arise, Sir Lancelot, Knight of Camelot. Arise, Sir Gwaine, Knight of Camelot. Arise, Sir Percival, Knight of Camelot. Arise, Sir Elyan, Knight of Camelot."

Amelia feels full to the brim with joy at the scene. One by one the new Knights stand up.

Arthur addresses them. "Tomorrow, when you fight, you can stand proud knowing you are members of the most noble army the world has ever known."

——

Later, they all lay on the floor, trying to get some sleep. Amelia is struggling to. She can hear Merlin and Lancelot whispering to each other and tries to ignore it until she hears Lancelot say something that piques her interest.

"What are you planning? And don't even think about lying; I know you too well."

"It's too difficult to explain." Merlin says evasively.

"You can tell me."

"Morgana and Morgause have the Cup of Life. If I can find it and empty it of the blood within, then the army will be destroyed, and they will be powerless." Merlin explains.

Amelia's eyes widen, of course, that makes sense. The pact they had made with Morgause had actually made them quite easy to defeat just the part of getting to it will be difficult.

"Aren't you forgetting something? It's guarded by an immortal army." Lancelot points out.

"Aren't you forgetting something? I have magic." Merlin retorts.

"It doesn't make you immortal."

"No." Merlin admits.

"You know, Merlin, you're the one Arthur should knight. You're the bravest of us all and he doesn't even know it."

"He can't. Not yet." Merlin argues. "That's why I need to find a way to get to the Cup without Arthur knowing."

"Leave that to me." Lancelot reassures him.

——

The following day, they are all gathered in a circle, going over the plan. Amelia had spent the rest of the night coming up with a plan for what she'll do. She needs to go with Merlin and Lancelot.

"There is a tunnel under the northern ramparts that brings us only a few paces from the entrance to the Dungeons." Arthur reveals. "It will be well guarded. So, if we're going to break everyone out, we must remain unobserved. We cannot let them raise the alarm."

"We need to take out the warning bell. That way the warriors have no means of communication." Lancelot suggests, and one glance from him to Merlin is all Amelia needs to realise that this is his idea to get Merlin to the Cup.

"Good idea." Arthur nods.

"I'll need someone with me who knows the Castle." Lancelot says.

"I'll go." Merlin immediately volunteers.

"I'll go, too." Amelia offers, and they all look over at her. Merlin in particular surprise. Amelia can tell some are all still just a tiny bit suspicious, and she still doesn't blame them, but that doesn't stop Amelia from rolling her eyes at them. "I think it'd be a lot easier to get around the Castle if they're with one of the members of the royal family, don't you?"

Arthur sees the sense Amelia is making and nods. "Alright."

——

Merlin immediately grabs her when they all split up.

"You know, don't you?" His question comes out as a statement.

"Know what?" Amelia casually asks. "That you and Lancelot are actually sneaking off to empty the Cup." He reluctantly nods. "Yeah, you both need to work on your whispering skills."

"It's dangerous." Merlin says. "What will Morgana and Morgause once they find out about your betrayal?"

"I have to risk it, Merlin."

Merlin opens his mouth to reply but pauses. Amelia looks up to see Gaius and Anne coming near them.

"You both need to be careful."

Merlin shrugs carelessly. "We've got the easy bit. The warning bell is nothing compared to the Cells."

"I overheard you, Merlin." Gaius says.

"And I smelt the lie a mile off." Anne says pointedly. "Are you both sure? If Morgause catches you, she'll kill you."

"We have no choice." Merlin persists.

"I can't let them win." Amelia declares.

Gaius smiles slightly. "I remember the bumbling idiot that came charging into my Chamber and the little girl terrified of her nightmares all those years ago. Who would believe."

They all hug. Despite the warmth of her friends, Amelia feels anxious.

They separate with Gaius going one way and Anne and Merlin the other. Amelia moves to follow Gaius but someone stops her by blocking her path. She looks to see it's Gwaine. She is hesitant about what he's going to say as he hasn't been exactly warm to her since she found them at the Cave.

"Amelia, I-I wanted to speak with you." Gwaine awkwardly stumbles.

Amelia is surprised to see him without his usual confidence but doesn't let that deter her and steels herself for the verbal abuse.

"What Gwaine?" She asks sharply.

"Be safe, yeah?"

Amelia looks at him in surprise. She wasn't expecting that. "What? I thought you hated me? You've been avoiding me ever since I joined you all!"

Gwaine looks apologetic. "I know. And I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? Oh, there's a first." Amelia remarks more sharply than she'd intended.

He rolls his eyes. "Amelia, I'm being serious."

Amelia raises an eyebrow. "Sorry, but in my defence, you were the one being standoffish with me."

"I can give you a kiss as an apology?" Gwaine asks with a glimmer of his usual roguish smile.

Amelia huffs a laugh. "No, Gwaine."

"Is there still hope?" Gwaine asks quietly.

Amelia is surprised but smiles slightly. "We'll have to see."

There's a squeal and Amelia and Gwaine turn to see an excited Anne running towards them with a sheepish Merlin following.

Amelia stumbles in surprise when Anne launches herself at her, letting out a chuckle. "What's this?"

Anne pulls back with a grin. "Merlin proposed! We're getting married!"

Amelia looks at her wide eyed before looking at Merlin, who gives her a nod of confirmation, then joins in with Anne in giddy happiness. Amelia faintly hears Gwaine give his own congratulations to Merlin.

Now more than ever Amelia knows they need to do this.

——

They approach the walls of the Castle through the bushes. Anne had stayed behind as Gwen had and it would be suspicious if Anne came along as her magic is a secret to most of the group.

Soldiers are keeping watch on the ramparts near the entrance Arthur spoke of. They wait for the Soldiers to turn before taking their chance and slipping into the Dungeons.

"Good luck!" Arthur murmurs to Amelia, Merlin and Lancelot.

The group splits. Lancelot and Merlin go upstairs. Amelia moves to follow them but someone grabs her arm. She looks to see who. Percival.

"Be careful." He tells her.

Amelia gives him a small soft smile. He's sweet. "Don't worry, I will."

Amelia, Merlin and Lancelot sneak into the corridors, trying to avoid the Guards as Amelia leads them to where the cup is located. Suddenly, Amelia feels its power causing her to stop. She realises Merlin has done the same when he lets out an overwhelmed gasp.

"You feel it too?" Amelia rhetorically asks him but he nods anyway.

"What is it?" Lancelot asks.

"It's the Cup, we can sense it's power." Amelia explains. "Now we really do need to get moving."

Suddenly, a Guard arrives in front of them. Lancelot leaps forward and starts fighting but does not manage to defeat him. Merlin enters the fight. He hits the Guard with his sword and he explodes. Lancelot and Amelia look at him stunned.

"Is that what I think it is?" Amelia murmurs. She hadn't seen that sword in years. Merlin nods.

"What is it?" Lancelot asks, still in shock.

"It was forged in a Dragon's breath." Merlin smugly explains.

——

Amelia, Merlin and Lancelot peek around a corner. The Council Chambers are being guarded by four Soldiers. Not very inconspicuous.

"What do we do now?" Lancelot asks.

"There's only one thing we can do." Amelia murmurs. She grips her sword. "Let's do this."

They emerge from their hiding spot and immediately engage with the Soldiers. Amelia and Lancelot battle with them the best they can before shoving them back to Merlin and he uses the sword to kill them.

They finally manage to get inside the Council Chambers and lock the door. They slump against the door to catch their breaths but the time of relief is cut short, as Amelia realises that there are facing more Guards in the room, guarding the Cup. Guards draw their swords.

Amelia, Lancelot and Merlin look at each other, they have to go on fighting.

They pull themselves up and engage in another fight. Again, Amelia and Lancelot fight them with their swords and fists the best they can before pushing them in Merlin's direction.

Amelia spins around when she hears a gasp of pain and sees a Soldier wounding Lancelot.

"Lancelot!" She cries before hurriedly engaging with a Soldier that runs up to her.

She turns back to him but he shakes his head, yelling, "Keep going!"

Amelia jumps back into the fray. Then the warning bell rings out. She winces at that; Arthur isn't going to be pleased. Amelia can see Lancelot is getting too weak to fight and takes over fighting the Guard he was battling. Amelia finally pushes the Guard to Merlin to kill him.

Realising that was the last Soldier, Amelia turns to Merlin. "Merlin! The Cup!"

Merlin runs forward to reach the Cup, but the door opens, Morgause enters the room and casts a spell that throws Merlin against a wall. Merlin is knocked down. Amelia's eyes widen with fright and steps behind a pillar so her sister can't see her.

"I have a feeling I won't be seeing you again." She remarks casually. She raises her hand and Amelia is about to step out, terrified of what Morgause will do to Merlin when a voice stops her.

"No, you won't," Gaius says, emerging from behind a pillar. Morgause raises her hand again but in Gaius' direction. Amelia takes this opportunity to emerge.

"No," Amelia says. Morgause's eyes widen at the sight of her. "You really won't." Channelling all the magic that she can pull out, Amelia sticks her hand towards her sister and chants a spell, "Oferswing!"

Morgause flies back and lands on the floor. Amelia brings her hand back and takes deep, short breaths. That magic she'd used has taken her breath from her.

Morgause stands up, in clear shock. But, before she can do anything, Merlin blasts her. She is sent flying, hitting the pillar with a sickening crack. She lands on the floor unconscious.

Amelia stares at her sister's body in shock. She feels ringing in her ears, which causes her to barely hear what is going on around her. She faintly hears Gaius yelling for Merlin to get the cup and Merlin doing so, but all Amelia can see is Morgause's unconscious body as she slowly kneels on the floor. Amelia reaches towards Morgause's head and pets it in a daze. Despite who Morgause is, she's still Amelia's sister, she can still feel that familial pull and the guilt for causing this despite knowing Morgause isn't dead. She would be able to feel it if she is.

Suddenly, there are arms around her, pulling her away. Amelia looks up to see that it's Merlin gazing at her sorrowfully.

"It's done." He murmurs. She nods numbly.

"No! No!" Amelia looks up to see Morgana running into the room and flinging herself onto the floor, embracing Morgause. "Sister." She kneels near her, sobbing, caressing her sister's face.

Amelia swallows thickly before speaking quietly, "I'm sorry...I-I didn't..."

Morgana looks up and sees Amelia standing with Merlin, something dawns on her face, and she gives them a hardened glare.

"You, you! How could you do this?!" Morgana spits furiously.

"I-I didn't mean to!" Amelia stumbles, tears forming in her eyes, begging her sister to understand.

"You've betrayed us!" Morgana glares hatefully at her, drawing Morgause's unconscious body closer to her.

Amelia shakes her head rapidly. "N-no, no! You were trying to hurt people I care about! I had to stop you both!" It hurts to see Morgana glaring at her with such hatred.

"It's over, Morgana." Merlin says, stepping forward, drawing Morgana's attention from Amelia.

"No, you're wrong. This has just begun!" Morgana growls at him before looking back down at Morgause, sobbing. Amelia's heart breaks at the sight of it.

"No..." and with a large sniffle, Morgana screams, "NO!" And with that "NO!", the entire Castle's structure begins breaking down around them.

Morgana continues to scream and roar. Windows explode and the ceiling starts crumbling. Stones are falling everywhere. Amelia, Merlin, Gaius, and Lancelot flee the place, the latter having to be dragged out.

Amelia stops at the doorway, turning to look back at the crumbling room, trying to find her sisters, but Merlin pulls her away. She knows her sisters will escape and wonders when she'll see them next.

——

As night fell, everyone is in the Throne room as it had been turned into a temporary Infirmary as lots of people had either been injured in the fight to reclaim Camelot or were hurt under Morgana and Morgause's tyranny.

After her confrontation with her sisters, Amelia needs something to distract herself. She throws herself into helping Merlin, Anne and Gaius with the injured.

After a few hours, the chaos calms down and Amelia finds herself with nothing to do and that is when the exhaustion hits her, physically and mentally. She steps outside the room and slumps against a wall, sliding down it till she's sitting on the floor. Amelia draws her knees up to herself and once she's in a ball, she starts sobbing.

"Are you well?" A voice asks. Amelia's head springs up to see Percival standing over her with a look of concern.

She sniffs and wipes away her tears, which don't work as they keep coming. Amelia gives up and sighs. "No, not really. That's what happens when you betray your family."

Percival frowns and sits next to her. If Amelia wasn't so upset, she would've laughed at how comical it looks to see a man of over six feet try and fit himself into a small space.

"You didn't betray your sisters." Percival argues. "They betrayed you first by trying to harm Camelot and those you care about."

"Somehow that doesn't make me feel better." Amelia murmurs. "I can't help but feel like I'm as bad as them. The things I did, how I felt. There were times I felt such darkness in me I—"

Percival cuts her off. "But you stuck by your goodness and saved everyone despite that."

Amelia smiles softly at him. "Thank you. You've been so kind to me ever since we met. I wonder if I deserve it." She looks down at the floor. Suddenly, she feels Percival's hand grasping hers. Amelia looks up at him in shock, a blush on her cheeks.

"There's a light in you that I can see. Hope, determination. I know you're not your sisters." Percival declares.

Amelia stares at him with wide eyes. They stare at each other for who knows how long. Amelia then, before she can think about it, leans forward and presses her lips to Percival's for a brief but sweet kiss. She panics and pulls back.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't've. I—"

Percival's hand, which isn't holding hers, on her cheek stops her in her tracks. He gives her a small warm smile before pulling her back in.

——

Amelia's eyes slowly drift open, and she changes her position so that her back is flat on her bed, staring at the ceiling.

Anne is getting married today.

Amelia squeals in excitement and darts into the Antechamber to her Chambers where Anne has been staying the night. Anne and Merlin would be having their own rooms soon. Amelia had insisted that while the two of them had Anne's house, Merlin and Anne should have their own room in the Castle as well. Arthur had relinquished.

Amelia finds Anne only just waking up in her bed. Her maidservant startles when Amelia lets out another squeal. "You're getting married today!"

Anne blinks at her confused before it dawns on her and she begins laughing as she pushes her blanket off and gets out of bed. "Yes, yes I am."

Amelia lunges forward and begins pulling Anne into her Chambers by the arm. "Come on, come on! We need to get you dressed."

"I can get dressed myself, Amelia." Anne argues fondly.

"But this is your wedding day! You always help me get dressed, now I should help you!" Amelia persists. She had thrown herself all the way into the wedding planning as she had not wanted to dwell on what happened between her and her sisters.

Anne gives up and lets Amelia help her into her dress. Amelia smiles happily to herself as she watches Anne look at herself in the mirror. It is a white and golden dress that goes all the way down to the floor, and the sleeves were long but airy. Anne's feet are covered by white slippers. She looks beautiful.

Anne looks behind her shoulder at Amelia, who has just finished setting her hair. Despite not being her forte, Amelia had worked hard on perfecting the hairstyle Anne would wear on her wedding day. She has done quite well if she may say so herself.

"Thank you, Amelia. Really."

Amelia simply shrugs and offers Anne a smile. "This is the most important day of your life. I had to make it special."

The wedding is absolutely amazing. All thanks to Amelia's, as well as Gwen's, decorating making the whole thing immaculate. The wedding happens in one of the smaller rooms as Anne had baulked at the mere suggestion it be in the Throne room. Despite being one of the smaller rooms, it is still large enough to fit in all the guests. Arthur, Amelia, Gwen, Gaius, the Knights and many of the servants in attendance as both Anne and Merlin have become greatly respected and admired by them in the times the two have served in the Castle.

Geoffrey of Monmouth officiates the ceremony due to Arthur's orders. Amelia can see that her cousin needs something else to put his mind to as he has been dragged into meeting after meeting and ceremonial events since his father hasn't recovered after Morgana's treatment and has not left his room. Amelia has been supporting him the best she can by taking on some of the duties. She has been pulling Gwen along with her under the guise of extra wedding planning and moral support but really Amelia has wanted to give Gwen some Queenly duties training.

Merlin looks the best Amelia has ever seen him. He is wearing ceremonial clothes, a gift from Amelia. She had insisted that he will not be getting married in rags but it probably doesn't matter to Anne. Merlin could be wearing a paper bag and Anne would have still thought that he is the most handsome man on this Earth.

Geoffrey soon announces that they are married and that they may kiss. The two share a kiss as everyone claps and cheers around them. When Merlin and Anne pull back, they pay them all no attention. Amelia can't blame them as this is their moment, and nobody else's but theirs.

——

A/N: Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

Merlin will return

#bbc merlin #merlin

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mysticstarlightduck · 10 months ago

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happy WBW! what are superstitions like in your wip(s)? are any of your characters particularly superstitious or particularly skeptical?

Thank you for the ask, @ashen-crest!

I'll answer this one for my medieval dark fantasy WIP, Realms of Loss!

What are superstitions like in your WIP(s)?

There certainly is a lot of superstition in the world of Realms of Loss, the continent of Helvastte, especially since it is basically a land torn by an ages-old war and a dangerous ever-spreading curse brought by the death of the Old Gods, where the survivors battle for power. In a world like that, there are bound to be a lot of myths and stories that get twisted up through time and turn into popular superstitions - some that are true, others that are just myths born out of fear and lack of information.

For example, in the Outer Cities of the citadel of Avillore (one of the main kingdoms bound in the neverending war that tears the land apart), it is a common children's superstition that leaving a window open at night invites evil spirits that will snatch their souls away to eat them.

There are many dangers in the Outer Cities, (which are the abandoned outskirts of villages beyond the protective walls of the Citadels) - the blood plague, hungry beasts from the winter forests, and actual black market merchants dubbed the Soul Traders - so this superstition about closing windows at night was likely born as a cautionary tale told by parents or older siblings wanting to keep the children safe.

Another example of superstition in Helvastte belongs to the people of Sarythea, who believe that, on the eve of the Solstice, one must knock three times on the doorframe of a new house one's been invited to and invoke the names of their Celestial Court of choice, as a way to wish protection upon oneself and the owners of the house for another prosperous year.

While the Celestial Courts and magic do exist in the realms, it is unclear whether following this superstition actually changes anything. It is likely a harmless superstition meant to keep people at ease, and it isn't clear where this habit actually started or why.

Are any of your characters particularly superstitious or particularly skeptical?

Most Superstitious - Viktoras Aeravi, the bastard son of the Watcher Lord of the Far Reach, is one of the most superstitious characters in Realms of Loss, but not in an obsessive way, rather just because tradition is everything to him and one of the pillars where he finds his personal worth. He believes strongly in the power of one's will and that following superstition is a harmless, but important, way to show he belongs in the culture he was born into (a sense of home he feels he lacks due to his bastard birth).

Particularly Skeptical - Gwain Vytris, a thief of the Guild and Adaria Vytris' older brother, has been through many hardships in the Outer Cities and spent most of his life ensuring the continued survival of his younger siblings - but going through all of this at a very young age changed him into a rather jaded, fatalistic and pragmatic person. He believes that both royalty and the Celestial Courts have abandoned them, and that being superstitious is just another way to sugarcoat this fact.

#wbw asks #wip: realms of loss #asked and answered!#writing #writeblr #writers #writerblr #character writing #my wips #my writing #writers on tumblr #my characters #fantasy writing

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 4 years ago

Text

Something in the woods is stealing peoples’ Souls;

Merlin learns the hard way that he's a little more... fragmented, than normal people when he tries to solve the issue himself.

Part 2 (final part)

All of the Physicians in the town are being overrun.

Bodies keep showing up, still breathing, still perfectly functional, all seemingly unharmed... but they won’t wake up.

None of them will even twitch, as if, whilst the physical bodies were in perfect condition, there was something lacking somewhere, stopping any sort of higher brain function.

The King, his Knights, and even the Court Physician and his (newly titled) Co-Worker (as opposed to Apprentice), were baffled.

Medically, they had nothing to go on, all they could do was keep the bodies alive as best they could, and hope that some sort of solution could come about after some good old fashioned detective work.

Thankfully, it only took five days, and twelve comatose patients, for The King’s best Knights to realise that all of the... victims(?) had been found in a specific area of the woods just outside the city limits.

With such a distinct, and unexplainable issue, it was assumed (rightfully) that magic was involved somehow; whether it be some sort of creature, or yet another evil sorcerer hell-bent on revenge.

Which of course led to Merlin, one of the Court Physicians, and also (Secretly)TheMostPowerfulWarlockEver™, putting on his warmest clothes and sneaking out in the dead of night under the worried gaze of Gaius.

He did not come back.

Not that anyone but Gaius knew.

Early the next morning, King Arthur gathered his best Knights, Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, to go and hunt down whatever it was that was rendering his people permanently unconscious.

Gaius and Merlin had explained the previous day, when these plans were conceived, that Merlin would have to stay behind; Camelot’s Physicians were so overwhelmed with not only normal patients, but now twelve comatose bodies as well; they needed every pair of hands they could get. For once, Arthur was happy to leave his manservant behind.

The man cared greatly for his people, and whilst he would love nothing more than to have Merlin at his side all day, every day, he knew that he was safer, and more needed, in the city.

It was meant to just be in case Merlin got injured and had to hide it, but Gaius did well to hide his worry when he waved them off, and didn’t mention that Merlin wasn’t even in the city, that they could be finding Merlin’s comatose body next.

It took the Gang barely half a day to get there, and they had supplies to last them a few days in the woods, if that’s what it came to, but they were all still tense.

They hadn't seen anything like this before. They had no idea what they were up against; there were no physical injuries to assess, no eye-witness accounts, nothing found in their blood or on their person. Just unconscious bodies that showed no sign of waking.

Thankfully, they found no more bodies as they methodically searched the forest, but they also found no sign of what was wrong.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: nothing attacked them, there was no blood, no destroyed areas, not even a scrap of evidence that something had even happened.

They finally stopped to make camp at sundown, dejected. Their mood definitely worsening with Elyan’s terrible cooking.

Gwaine was, of course, the most talkative:

“I know he’s needed or whatever, but are we sure we can’t go back and get Merlin? I’ve eaten a lot of gross shit over the years, but I’m not sure if I can take this for four more days.”

Elyan grumbles in embarrassment as the others snort, amused, and he throws a twig at Gwaine. It snaps in two across the knight’s face with a satisfying crack.

Arthur ignores the childish behaviour (something he can’t believe he has to do in the first place), shaking his head as he replies:

“No. The health of the people comes before your stomach. If Gaius says he’s needed in the city, then he stays in the city. Though I was surprised that he wasn’t there to wave us off.”

Gwaine smirks knowingly, and Percival puts a warning hand on his shoulder, but it does nothing to deter the knight as he waggles his eyebrows at The King.

Arthur flushes slightly, but he covers it quickly, not having time to retort before Gwaine opens his mouth again:

“Missing him, are you? Perhaps next time you should request that he stand on the battlements in a dress, and wave a handkerchief at us as we heroically ride out?”

Arthur throws a much larger twig (it’s more of a branch, really) in Gwaine’s direction, and this one knocks him off his seat, but before anyone can even snigger at him, Arthur loudly announces the watches and tells everyone to get some sleep.

The next day went much the same.

That is, until late-afternoon.

The Knights were continuing their methodical search of the woods, once again finding themselves somehow tense and bored, when they came across a clearing that had clearly seen a gruesome battle.

Trees were uprooted, the ground was covered in deep holes and scorches, and there were even the occasional splashes of blood.

Which honestly raised more questions that it answered.

After thorough searching, they were hopeful. It looked like it had been some sort of fight between a sorcerer, and something... not human, some sort of creature. BUT, going by the tracks, the sorcerer had survived, and wandered off.

Was the sorcerer injured, or was the creature injured? If the sorcerer had walked off, injured or otherwise, where was the creature? Surely they should find the body of one or the other?

Another question that no one really wanted to ask: was this even related to the bodies?? Or had the Knights just stumbled onto something completely unrelated that they would inevitably get dragged into dealing with anyway?

Either way, they couldn’t ignore it, and with new-found motivation, they followed the tracks deeper into the woods, instead of setting up camp, like they had intended.

Whoever it was seemed to be wandering aimlessly. The blood trail slowly came to a stop, and it seemed that every step was stronger; as if whoever it were was gaining more energy from walking, as opposed to becoming more tired.

Still, whoever they found at the end of the tracks would be able to provide some sort of answer.

Eventually, after around two hours of diligently following the footsteps through the woods, Arthur signalled everyone to stop.

He wordlessly dismounts his horse, and gestures everyone to quietly do the same, before silently pointing ahead.

The knights look carefully to where he gestures, to see a man stood in the centre of a clearing, facing away from them.

They, still silent, draw their swords and sneak closer, but the man doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was stood upright, they would think him dead.

Arthur steps into the clearing, about twenty feet from the man, and furrows his brow. That looks like.... no... it can’t be, can it? He shakes the thoughts from his head, convinced that he’s just imagining things, but before he can make his presence known, the man turns around, as if he sensed them stood there.

All of them gasp and take a step back, immediately recognising Merlin.

But he’s... different.

He stands scarily still, unusual for a man who was constantly fidgeting or on the move.

His face is blank, and if he hadn’t been staring straight at them they would think he hadn’t noticed them at all, and whilst he stood as if uninjured, his tunic is ripped and blood-soaked.

But what draws everyone’s attention, was the bright golden glow of his eyes, highlighted especially by the quickly descending darkness of the evening.

Arthur brings his sword up slowly, taking a cautious step forward as he calls Merlin’s name.

Merlin simply tilts his head slightly, otherwise staying still, before stutteringly beginning to speak:

“Mer... lin... Merlin....... Merlin is... Merlin is...... Merlin is gone.”

It’s clear that something is deeply wrong with the manservant, but the way he spoke, as if he knew how but had never actually done it before, like he was still figuring it out, creeped the hell out of everyone.

His words as well, “Merlin is gone” do nothing but fill them with dread.

Lancelot steps forward quickly, moving to stand in front of Arthur, sword unsheathed but pointing at the ground. He was unsurprisingly less fearful of the golden irises, and recovered the quickest:

“What do you mean, “Merlin is gone”, gone where? Who are you?”

Merlin... or... not!Merlin, tilts his head further:

“Merlin is... gone. I... I... I want him... back.”

Lancelot gulps but before he can reply, Arthur breaks out of his stupor, and growls:

“What have you done with him?! Whatever you are, give him back!”

Merlin moves his gaze from Lancelot to Arthur, and takes a step forward, before bowing his head slightly, as if out of respect:

“You are... The Once and Future King... I want him back... you... you... you need him... back.”

The rest of the knights are fully freaked out now, but they hide it well, and gather slowly around Arthur. Lancelot scowls at them, holding a placating hand out. He really doesn’t want any of them to get jumpy and skewer Merlin. He takes another step towards the golden-eyed man:

“We all want Merlin back. The bodies, the same thing happened to you? Happened to Merlin?”

Not!Merlin nods slowly once again, looking back to Lancelot:

“It... took him... from me. I... I... I want him back.”

Lancelot returns his nod, letting out a deep breath:

“And who are you? What are you doing in Merlin’s body?”

Not!Merlin frowns slightly, as if confused, the first actual expression he’s pulled this whole time. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Lancelot is getting desperate; he can feel the knights behind him getting more and more jumpy, especially Arthur:

“I am... I... I have always been here... I am... I am... I am me. I am Merlin’s... and he is... mine... I want him... back. He is... mine.”

Lancelot tenses slightly. He has a feeling he knows what’s going on. Merlin talks about his magic sometimes, talks about it as if it’s... sentient. Described the way it’s always desperate to reach out to Arthur and the Knights and Gaius and Gwen, how it sometimes does things without his permission.

Lancelot gulps. This is bad. Merlin’s magic is walking around in his body without him there to control it. They were going to struggle to explain this away, as much as Merlin claimed Arthur was an idiot, it wasn’t completely true. Lancelot bit his lip, glancing back at the others as he re-sheaths his sword.

He knows there’s no way to get them to relax... unless... this might backfire terribly, but it also might be the only way to get them to calm down a little.

Lancelot frowns thoughtfully, and just before Arthur works up the nerve to say something else, he turns back to Not!Merlin:

“Do you mean us any harm?”

Not!Merlin once again tilts his head and frowns as if in confusion:

“No... Merlin is... Merlin is fond of... you. I.. I was made for... for The Once and Future King. I am... unable to hurt him.”

Lancelot nods, before saying slowly:

“Do you have any reason to lie to us?

The golden-eyed man shakes his head slowly, the glow seeming brighter as he replies:

“Why would I... I... lie? I could kill... you without a... second... second thought. I want Merlin... back.”

The knight nods one final time, looking back to the others to gauge their reactions. Their swords are still unsheathed, but lowered, their faces tense and concerned, but not angry. Lancelot supposes that’s the best he’s going to get at this point.

He lets out a rough sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looks back at the Warlock:

“You’re not Merlin. What do we call you, until we can get him back?”

Not!Merlin lets his gaze wonder to the knights, before finally landing on Arthur. His speech had been getting better with use, but he speaks slowly and keeps his stare on The King, as if curious to his reaction:

“I am... I am... I am part of him. I don’t... have a name. Call me... me... Emrys.”

Lancelot grits his teeth, and his eyes whip to Arthur, to see if he recognises the name.

With The King’s gasp, and widening eyes, Lancelot knows that he does recognise the name.

“You... you’re Emrys?? I thought Emrys was some all-powerful sorcerer, what are you doing in Merlin?”

Arthur is too distracted to notice Lancelot’s panic, but Leon, ever the observant one, is not, and frowns at the sudden fear on his fellow knight’s face.

Mer-... Emrys had already admitted that he wouldn’t lie, if Arthur keeps asking questions, he’ll figure it out. But before Lancelot can think of a solution, Emrys replies:

“Emrys is... is... our other... name. But I am not... Merlin. Not on my own. I want... want him back.”

Arthur looks taken aback, but before he can ask another question, Gwaine steps forward, giving Lancelot an unreadable look before:

“Right, well that’s all fine and dandy, but we need to set camp up and figure out what we’re going to do about... this.”

He gestures vaguely to Merlin’s body after sheathing his sword.

Arthur looks about ready to argue, but with another pointed look from Gwaine, Lancelot jumps into action:

“Gwaine’s right, we need to gather the horses and set up for the night. Here is probably alright, then we can come up with a plan to get Merlin back, and presumably, all of those other people.-”

He turns to Arthur, a sufficiently subservient expression on his face:

“-If you think that’s best, Sire?”

Gwaine rolls his eyes and scoffs at that, heading back to gather the horses from where they’d been left without further prompting. Arthur’s argumentative expression drops after a moment, and with one more mistrustful glance to Emrys, he nods, instructing the others to gather wood and get started on dinner.

Lancelot lets out a breath, but flushes slightly and tenses his jaw when he sees Leon giving him an inscrutable look. He turns away after a moment, under the pretence of helping Gwaine.

The moment Lancelot reaches Gwaine, a few metres into the treeline, the other knight quickly turns around and grabs his shoulders. He glances desperately back towards the clearing, and when he establishes that they’re the only two within earshot, roughly whispers:

“Please tell me you figured it out?? Because I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to keep Arthur from finding out on my own.”

Lancelot’s eyes widen, but his shock keeps him silent for only a few moments before Gwaine shakes his shoulders. He blinks away his surprise, whispering his response:

“You know?? Does Merlin know that you know?”

Gwaine shakes his head, finally letting go of Lance’s shoulders:

“No. I worked it out like twenty seconds ago, I’m sort of hoping that Arthur isn’t as quick as me. How long have you known?”

The other knight nods his head understandingly:

“About as long as I’ve known him, but I’ll explain later. This whole thing is... terrible. I don’t think our odds are good. Mer- Emrys won’t lie, and we won’t be able to stop Arthur from asking questions. He’s probably asking them now. We need to get the horses and get back.”

Gwaine nods roughly, and without another word, the two of them gather the reins of their six horses, and quickly make their way back to the clearing.

They had only been gone a few minutes, and in that time, firewood had been gathered and arranged. Elyan pulls a flint out of his pocket, and Lancelot widens his eyes as he sees Emrys tilt his head (still stood in the same place), moments before waving his hand casually.

The wood bursts into a roaring flame, and Emrys suddenly has four swords on him. Lancelot and Gwaine rush forward, standing in between Emrys and the other knights, holding their hands out as if in surrender. Gwaine speaks first:

“Hey! You might be freaked out by all of this, but that’s still Merlin’s body, and he needs it, so lets not poke holes in him, alright??”

Everyone bar Arthur lowers their swords, but before Gwaine can growl something out, Lancelot turns back to Emrys:

“Look, they’re all a little... unnerved, by magic, so maybe stop using it for now, yeah?”

Emrys tilts his head and furrows his brows again, and everyone stares at him in shock as he replies, not quite knowing what to make of his response:

“But I am magic. I am magic... incarnate. If I stop... I... I cease to exist. And Merlin... Merlin needs me. He needs me like... like... like humans need to breath. I can not just... stop. He would... would... we would die.”

Lancelot tightly shuts his eyes. There is officially NO way to explain this one away. Gods, Merlin is going to be so scared when he finds out.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Arthur finally squeaks out a:

“What??”

Gwaine quickly responds, before Emrys can reveal anymore:

“No. It's cruel to take Merlin’s secrets from him when he isn’t even here. We find Merlin, then you can ask your questions.-”

Arthur looks angry, like he wants to argue, but Gwaine takes a threatening step towards him, resting his hand on his sword at his hip as Lancelot and the other knights look on the scene with panic in their eyes. Gwaine growls out:

“-I said no, Princess. Everyone here knows I’m more loyal to Merlin than you, and that doesn’t stop just because he’s not here and you’re about to throw a temper tantrum.”

Arthur huffs, but lowers his sword as Gwaine glares at him, and Lancelot lets out a breath. The other knights follows The King’s lead, sheathing their swords and settling tensely around the fire.

Lancelot goes back to the horses, tying them down and removing saddlebags, with Leon’s help (and constant stare, which was an odd mix of concern and suspicion).

Gwaine points Emrys to a spot on the floor, and tells him to sit. The knight settles next to him protectively, his sword across his lap as he glares at Arthur on the other side of the fire.

The evening passes awkwardly, food being cooked and eaten in silence, no one quite sure what to say.

Arthur spends the whole time with a pinched look of frustration on his face, but the knights look to him as he takes a deep breath, his expression morphing into an odd mix of concern and accusation in the blink of an eye:

“How do we even know that the... Merlin, part of... part of you is alive? What happened to hi- to you? How do we get him back?”

Lancelot wants to be annoyed at his tone, but he poses valid questions. They still had no idea what actually happened or why or how they fixed it.

Emrys tilts his head, aiming his golden stare at Arthur:

“It is one of... of the Manducan, or The Eating Ones. They... are very rare, they steal... steal souls. Bodies can survive a short while.... a short while without them. Hence your... comatose patients. I am... we are, a little more... fragmented... than most. I contain too... too much power, so The Manducan took... only the human... human part.”

Everyone looks extremely worried at that, but Arthur’s face turns desperate as he rushes out:

“What do you mean, human?? What are you??”

They all stare at the raven-haired man as he speaks, his eyes focused on the King:

“We do not... know. Some call us a Lord, or a King. Others call us... call us... a God. In moments... of power, we... we hear prayers. It can be... disconcerting.”

The camp is silent for a while after that, everyone processing what had been said. Merlin heard people praying to him... not even Lancelot knew that, Merlin had never told him.

After around half a candle-mark, Leon breaks the silence to ask the questions that had been pushed to that back of their minds:

“How do we kill this creature, and what happens if we do? Can we get the souls back, undamaged?”

Emrys turns his golden gaze to the curly-haired knight as he replies:

“It is already... weakened. The Forever King needs to... strike... strike it with Excalibur. They hibernate for.... for centuries... and only return to this plane of existence to... collect food. If you... if you... if you kill it before it leaves, the souls will... will return...naturally.”

The knights all let out breaths of relief, but Arthur looks at his sword oddly, before muttering:

“What’s so special about my sword? And why do you keep calling me strange titles?”

Lancelot gulps, and Emrys tilts his head:

“You know of Emrys, but not of the... the prophecies?”

Arthur nods his head slowly, but Lancelot interrupts before Emrys can start the complicated process of explaining his and Arthur’s destinies:

“Perhaps that’s a... story, for when we have Merlin back in one piece. How do we track the creature?”

Arthur gives him a glare, before lowly saying:

“Do not think I do not notice you avoiding the subject, Sir Lancelot. You know of these prophecies?”

Lancelot grits his teeth, but gives a slow nod:

“Bits and pieces. Merlin isn’t fond of talking about it.-”

He raises a challenging eyebrow, still staring Arthur in the face, and everyone is take aback. Lancelot was never anything but respectful and polite to his King; this defiant look shocked them all:

“-You see, he’s spent his entire life in Camelot absolutely terrified that someone will overhear him, and have him burnt.”

Arthur took in a deep breath, hiding his guilt behind a blank façade, but before anyone can say anything, their gazes are drawn back to Emrys, who looks almost... mournful?

He nods his head slightly, and the sad look on his... on Merlin’s face, looks so out of place for someone so normally upbeat:

“He is... we, are constantly frightened. It is exhausting. I try to... to reassure us but... Merlin is... is... is always so scared, despite our power. We used to... to love flames, fire. Now it is... terrifying to us.”

Lancelot had kept his gaze on Arthur, and when The King looks back at him, his despair badly hidden, the knight simply shrugs one shoulder and nods slightly.

Arthur lets out a breath, and looks to his lap, whispering so quietly that the group barely hears him:

“He’s scared of... of me.”

Gwaine growls out an “Of course he is, you’re a Pen-.”, but he’s interrupted by Emrys:

“No. He would allow you to... to kill us. But we couldn’t bear to... to lose you.-”

He finishes his statement quietly, and Arthur looks up at him, tears in his eyes:

“-We don’t want to be sent away. Camelot is... is... is frightening. But it is also our... home.”

“I would never send you away. When we get Merlin back, you... you tell him that. Tell him he’s safe with me, with us, and always will be.”

Emrys tilts his head yet again:

“And my people? Will we be an... exception? Will you make us watch you... continue to persecute our people, whom we... we... we should be protecting? Merlin does... does not want to make a... hypocrite out of you.”

The knights look at him expectantly, and he blanches slightly as he looks away. The King gulps, before taking a deep breath and looking back, straightening his spine and looking confident:

“The laws will change. Crimes committed with magic will be judged the same as crimes committed without; it’s about time I faced the cruelties of my father.”

The corner of Emrys’ mouth tilts up briefly as he nods, but says nothing. Gwaine smirks, Leon and Lancelot give The King proud smiles, and Percival and Elyan look taken aback, before they relax into fond smiles of their own.

The evening had passed quickly, and with all of them exhausted, it’s decided that any further discussion on how to track this... Manducan, would happen in the morning.

All of the knights fall asleep quickly, finding the protective golden glow of Emrys’ unsleeping eyes both comforting and unsettling.

They all woke the next morning oddly refreshed, but the relaxed atmosphere didn’t last long when, one by one, the knights noticed Emrys sat unnervingly still, in the exact same spot as last night.

Only the occasional blink and shallow breathing proved that he was in fact alive, and not some sort of incredibly life-like statue.

Food was eaten, and camp broken quickly; the golden eyed not-quite-a-servant staying in his spot the whole time.

Despite Emrys saying that the souls would be fine as long as they got there in time, they were still full of nervous energy, and wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Not least of all because they had a lot, and I mean a LOT, of questions for Merlin... or... all of Merlin.

Emrys was pointed to Lancelot’s horse, and once he mounted in front of the knight, everyone looked at him expectantly. He simply tilted his head, and Arthur huffed:

“Well? How do we find this... creature? Can’t you-”

He waves his hand vaguely, and Leon is the only knight able to hide his snort at The King’s impression of magic.

Emrys nods in understanding, and extends his hand in front of him. A thin stream of light, like a glowing string floating in the air, extends from his palm, snaking through the trees.

He nods, this time in the direction of the light, and the knights urge their horses to begin a quick paced journey.

Conversation is sparse, but eventually the question on all of their minds is asked by Percival:

“If you could do that the whole time, track the Manducan I mean, why didn’t you?”

Emrys doesn’t look towards him, but the horses noticeably slow as everyone bunches together, curious about his answer:

“They are of a different... different plane. Magic can harm them but... but... but not kill. I was waiting for The Once and Future King to bring... bring Excalibur.”

Percival nods in understanding, but Leon frowns:

“Well... what about us? Will we not be able to harm it with our swords?”

Everyone copies his frown at that. They’re valid questions, and Arthur is silently grateful that Leon had the tactical mind to think of them:

“No. It will be safer for... for... for you to... wait. I can distract and injure it further until... The Once and Future King can... kill it.”

The knights looks worried at that, but Elyan is the first one to pipe up:

“We’re meant to just stand back and watch? Can’t we set a trap, or help distract it?”

Emrys shakes his head:

“It can not be trapped. Being too close would... would have adverse effects on... on... on your souls.”

Arthur looks back from his position at the head of the group with a frown on his face:

“Well what about my soul? I’m presumably going to have to get close to it in order to stab it?”

Emrys fixes his golden stare on The King, and tilts his head slightly in confusion:

“Your soul was forged through magic, it is marginally... immune. It will take a little... longer for... for... for your soul to react badly.”

Arthur nods, looking back to the front, muttering something about “having a time limit before my soul implodes or whatever. Great.”

Once the knights finish snickering at Arthur, Gwaine asks:

“Wait wait, if Excalibur is the only thing able to kill it, what are you doing out here?”

Emrys tilts his head, looking back to the knights:

“We were... unaware of that at the... the time. We only figured out what... it was, when we fought it.”

Everyone nods, all of them wondering just how many times Merlin had snuck out to take care of something, with none of them knowing about it. The list of questions they had for when Merlin was back in one piece was getting longer and longer, and no part of this conversation was helping the anxiety swirling in Lancelot’s stomach.

After another hour or so of silence, Elyan pipes up:

“I’m surprised no one has asked yet but... what does this thing look like? I know we’re following a trail or whatever, but what are we actually going to find at the end of it?”

“They shift sizes, though they always take... the form of a thick-”

Emrys is interrupted by Arthur pulling his horse to a sudden stop, and pointing through the trees ahead of his, harshly whispering:

“Black shadow??”

Everyone stops behind him and their gazes dart quickly to where Arthur gestures. Through the trees they see a large mass of deep black smoke.

The black tendrils seem to writhe in the air, and the knights can see vague impressions of limbs tipped with impossibly sharp claws darting out occasionally before retreating back into the fog.

The creature looks like evil in semi-corporeal form, and the usually strong-willed warriors take in stuttering breaths at the overwhelming instincts of “Unnatural, run run RUN!” screaming at them with every passing second.

The shadow doesn’t seem to have any front or back; being in a constantly shifting state, sometimes seeming to freeze, sometimes darting through the trees in a blur.

The knights have lost all colour in their faces, and their breath comes shallowly and quickly. Arthur gulps, tightening his grip on his sword as he whispers:

“Horse, or on foot?”

The sound of Emrys’ feet softly thudding on the undergrowth gives The King his answer, and he dismounts his horse slowly, trying to stop the shaking in his hands and legs.

He takes a deep breath as Emrys moves to stand behind him. His voice is shaking and desperate, as if he were a child reaching for help after a nightmare:

“How do I... what do I do, Merlin?”

Emrys tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything of the The King’s mistake:

“You need only get close enough to... deeply slice it. It is fragile in this... this realm. Cover your eyes when you... you do so, the light will be blinding. Do not let it... touch you. I am reluctant to admit that, after what it did to... to... to our soul, I do not know what it will... do to yours.”

Arthur takes another deep breath, and clears his throat slightly as he gives a firm nod. Time to be brave now, for his people, for Merlin.

The King can hear his knights dismount behind him and tie up the horses, ready to jump in and help at a moment’s notice, in spite of... whatever will happen to their souls. None of them are really sure they want to know, so none of them ask for details, and Arthur is unendingly grateful for their silent loyalty and bravery.

Emrys walks forward, past Arthur, and towards the creature. The King gulps before silently slipping off to the side; he doesn’t know how the creature sees (not having a head, or even eyes, as far as he can tell), but Emrys said he would distract it so... splitting up makes the most sense?

The knights can tell the exact moment the creature notices Emrys walking towards it.

The tendrils of shadow seem to writhe even more frantically, and the fog bulges and retreats again, somehow giving the impression of anger, fear.

Emrys plants his feet strongly and raises a hand, summoning vines and roots from the ground with nought but a gesture; Arthur only gives himself a second to be distracted by the sight of Merlin so effortlessly doing magic before focussing back on the creature.

Everyone bar Emrys winces, and covers their ears as the beast lets out an ear piercing screech, moving judderingly towards the Warlock. The trees shake with the noise, and a few of Emrys’ magical attacks disintegrate into the air. He summons more, and snarls in concentration as the beast whips towards him.

Emrys rushes forward to meet the beast, and they clash in a burst of golden light and black shadow, each trying to take over the other. The shadows try to sneak around the Warlock, reaching towards the knights behind him, but they’re quickly halted in their tracks as cracks open in the ground, swallowing the fog before it can do any damage.

The golden light emanating from Emrys pulses brightly, and the creature is pushed back, the edges of its smoke disintegrating slowly into the air. It lets out another high pitched screech, and Arthur takes that as his cue; rushing silently forward, on the opposite side of the creature to Emrys, and swiping down precisely with Excalibur.

The knights see his attack coming, and step even further back, heeding Emrys’ warning and covering their eyes, Arthur doing so with his free hand as he brings the sword down.

Excalibur cuts through the shadow with no resistance; the screech getting impossibly louder as the blade leaves a blindingly golden trail in it’s wake.

Emrys simply stands back to watch, but the pitch of the beast’s screech forces the knights to the floor, eyes tightly shut, and hands clamped over their ears.

Suddenly, the noise stops, and the shadows of the creature seem to disintegrate into nothing as the golden light of the wound takes over. The light recedes in on itself, before exploding outwards and fragmenting into pieces. The bulk of the fragments fly in the direction of Camelot, golden blurs through the trees, but one, the smallest and dullest (due to being only part of a soul, they assume) flies with speed straight towards Emrys.

The knights and their King finally look up, feeling oddly exhausted, to see Emrys take a staggered step back and grimace in pain as the light forces it’s way down his throat.

He falls to the floor, and the knights rush towards him as his muscles spasm and he begins to scream. His eyes are shut tightly and Lancelot quickly lunges forward to grab his wrists as his hands go to yank at his hair.

Everyone gathers around him, Lancelot yelling for them to hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself. They can only hope that Merlin is an exception, and this isn’t happening to the other victims back in Camelot. Lancelot keeps a hold of his wrists, and Arthur discards Excalibur in favour of holding down Merlin’s shoulders, whilst Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine hold down his hips and legs, and Percival wordlessly stands guard.

Merlin’s screaming dies down, and he stops thrashing so much (but stays tense), but the knights don’t let go just yet. He opens his bleary eyes, and whispers, so faintly they barely hear it:

“... Lance?”

The knight lets go of Merlin’s now limp wrists gently, and strokes a hand through the man’s raven hair:

“Yeah, I’m here Merlin. All back in once piece?

Merlin closes his eyes again, and goes fully slack as the others let go of him fully, nodding slowly as he gulps before groaning:

“Yeah, that fucking... hurt.”

Lancelot huffs out a gentle laugh, but before he can reply, Merlin gasps and quickly sits up. When his wide, panicked eyes land on the rest of the knights huddled around him, his breath deepens and he scrambles back frantically, only to run into Arthur, who grabs his shoulders.

Merlin whips his head around and rips himself from The King’s grip, stumbling to his feet and rushing back, away from the knights and into a tree.

His ears are deaf to everyone’s gentle reassurances that he was safe, and his eyes are blind to the hands held up in soft surrender. He sinks to the floor as his breathing gets even more frenzied and tears gather in his eyes, but before he can process that he was safe, the mix of memories triggers a blinding pain behind his eyes.

He gives a pained yelp and shuts his eyes tightly, bringing his hands to grip the sides of his head as he curls up on the floor. Merlin begins to groan again, and Lancelot desperately gestures for everyone to stay back as he kneels by Merlin’s side, pulling his hands away from his head again:

“You’re safe Merlin, no one’s going to hurt you, do you remember? We said that to the bit of you that was left.-”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him, but squeezes Lancelot’s hands painfully tight as he continues to groan, arching his spine:

“-Ok, ok, what’s wrong Merlin? Your head? We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong. Is it your... your soul?”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, groaning dying down, but still struggling to draw breath, still gripping Lance’s hands:

“Your magic?”

Another shake of the head has Lancelot beginning to panic a little; none of them have dealt with anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with his friend. He continues to try and comfort Merlin as he struggles to think of what else it could be, when Merlin begins forcing himself to take deep breaths, and stuttering out:

“Mem... memories.”

Lancelot takes a fortifying breath, and the others crowd a little closer, panicking for their friend:

“Memories? Ok, which ones? Memories from the bit of you that was wandering around, or memories from the bit of you that was in the creature?”

Thankfully, Merlin’s pain seems to be dying down slightly. His breath comes easier, but his eyes stay tightly shut and his muscles still spasm periodically as he grinds out:

“Both. Two sets of memories from... from the same time. Hurts. My. Brain.”

Lancelot huffs out another gentle laugh, rubbing his thumbs softly over the back of Merlin’s hands, and the others relax at the sight of Merlin’s pain lessening. Gwaine kneels down next to Lancelot, and quietly announces himself before beginning to run a gentle hand through Merlin’s hair.

This goes on for a few more minutes; the servant’s pain dwindling and his breathing evening out as his mind sorts the two sets of clashing memories and stitches the two pieces of his soul back together, Lancelot and Gwaine not stopping their soft ministrations for even a moment.

He finally relaxes fully, opening his eyes but not moving from his position on the floor as he gazes tiredly up at Arthur’s worried face, over Lancelot’s shoulder. His words comes out timidly, and Arthur has to stop himself flinching at the hint of fear in his voice:

“Did you mean it? Am I... safe?”

Arthur forces a soft smile on his face, hiding his worry, and gives Merlin a firm nod:

“I promise Merlin, you’re safe. None of us will hurt you.-”

Merlin smiles back at him, before nodding, and closing his eyes, drained from the ordeals of the last few days:

“-though you need to make sure your head is on straight at your earliest convenience, I’ll need your help to write that repeal.”

Arthur says it with a weak, teary grin, and Merlin chuckles slightly, nodding softly once more before drifting into a deep sleep, exhausted.

Lancelot mutters that he’s asleep, and the smile drops from Arthur’s face, his brow furrowing in worry as he crouches between his two knights, putting a hand to Merlin’s forehead:

“Will he be alright?”

Lancelot shrugs, biting his lip, and sporting a similar expression to The King as he replies:

“I’ve no clue. His soul was split in two, his magic was pushed to the limit in that fight, and his body didn’t rest at all or eat much for at least a day; he’s probably just exhausted, but we should get him back to Gaius.”

Elyan, Leon, and Percival move back to gather the horses without prompting, and within minutes the gang is racing back towards the city, Merlin’s unconscious form being held protectively in front of Arthur (his excuse being that Lancelot’s horse had already held the extra weight for half a day, and he’s The King, so he can do what he wants).

Thankfully, the creature had been between their camp and the city, so it only takes them around a day to get back. They took few breaks, and ate whilst they rode to save time. Despite not waking up the entire journey, Merlin’s breathing stayed alright, and he occasionally mumbled nonsense to himself, so the knights weren’t panicking too much.

They didn’t stop when night fell, and so finally pulled into the castle courtyard at around midnight. A guard was immediately sent to wake Gaius, and Percival wordlessly took Merlin from Arthur’s horse, only after The King had given him a short nod of approvable.

They got to the Physician’s chambers to see Gaius wide awake and bustling around the room, clearing a cot and gathering various potions and ingredients.

Percival gently set the manservant on the cot, and Gaius firmly demands that they all leave the room to give him space to work, choosing to ignore the fact that he had told them that Merlin was in the city, and that they definitely shouldn’t have come back with his exhausted, unconscious body.

Arthur notes that Gaius doesn’t react at all when Lancelot stays behind, but has to temper his frustration (and jealousy) when the Physician shoots the knight a concerned look when Arthur himself also refuses to leave.

Lancelot sighs, but gives Gaius a reassuring smile:

“It’s fine, Gaius, they all know about Merlin’s magic, he’s safe. We said we’d explain when we got Merlin back in one piece.”

Gaius sends The King a curious look, hiding his concern well before he seems to catch up on what Lancelot said:

“Back in one piece?”

Arthur moves closer as Lancelot nods and begins to speak, content to let the knight explain as long as he got to stand near Merlin:

“He said it was Manducan?-”

Gaius widens his eyes in surprise, but nods, continuing to mix together various herbs as he listens:

“-Apparently, Merlin’s power was too much for it to handle, so it took the non-magical part of his soul. We found Merlin’s body being controlled by his magic. It was... odd. He was still Merlin, you could hear it in the way he spoke, or the words he chose, but it wasn’t... all of him. Just the magic part. He wouldn’t lie to us, and was desperate to get the “Merlin” part of his soul back. Unless we spoke to him he just... sat there, blankly.”

Gaius hums thoughtfully, and he and Lancelot politely pretend not to notice Arthur reaching out to gently grab Merlin’s hand.

Finally, the physician finishes mixing his potion, and gently pours it into Merlin’s mouth, holding his nose shut and massaging his throat so it goes down properly. He sits back on his chair, glancing at Arthur quickly, before looking back to Lancelot:

“The other victims began to wake just under a day ago, so I’m assuming that the creature was... dealt with?-”

At Lancelot’s nod, he continues:

“-Did Merlin wake at all when his soul came together?”

Lancelot nods again, speaking quietly, feeling oddly like he doesn’t want to disturb Arthur softly rubbing his thumb over Merlin’s hand:

“Hmm. Briefly. He screamed for a while, whilst his soul... I don’t know, stitched itself back together? Then he panicked, because he knew his magic had been outed, then he was in pain again. He said having two sets of memories from the same time hurt. Then he was just exhausted, he passed out a few moments after the pain stopped.”

Gaius nods, and Arthur finally looks up, knowing that the explanation was over, and a conversation was about to happen. The Physician speaks:

“Humans are not made for that, it would have been painful for his mind to try to comprehend and organise two separate sets of simultaneous memories.”

Arthur speaks, his voice quiet, but obviously worried:

“Will he be alright? How long until he wakes?”

Gaius looks to him once more, giving The King an assessing gaze. When he spies no anger or deception in Arthur’s face, he relaxes his shoulders slightly, and sighs:

“He will be alright, he just needs rest. Both his body and his soul have been through a great deal, it will take a few days to a week for him to fully recover physically, though I can’t speak for his mental state.”

Arthur looks panicked, and Lancelot worries his lip between his teeth as Arthur asks:

“His mental state??”

Gaius finds himself sighing yet again as he asks:

“How lucid was he, between the bouts of pain?”

Lancelot rushes to answer:

“Very. He understood what I was saying, I think, he asked a question and understood our answer. He just seemed tired.”

Gaius gives the two men an exhausted smile, before softly saying:

“Then I imagine he will be fine. Go and get some rest, I will send for you if anything changes, though it’s unlikely that he’ll wake up at any point in the next two days or so.”

Lancelot nods, and moves towards the door, but Arthur stays put. Gaius raises an eyebrow, but moves forward and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“He will be fine, Sire. And... everything he has done, every lie he has told, has been to keep you safe. He couldn’t bare to lose you.”

Arthur nods absentmindedly, before looking up to the Physician, and whispering:

“I couldn’t bare to lose him either. You... you promise he’ll be alright?”

Gaius nods and smiles, noting with relief the tearful desperation on The King’s face:

“I promise.”

Lancelot smiles fondly from his place stood at the door, but wipes it from his face as Arthur turns towards him. The two men leave out of the room, Gaius’ assessing eyes following them all the way.

The door shuts behind them softly, and Gaius lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding, before running a hand gently through Merlin’s hair, and moving to settle in his own cot.

Of all the ways Arthur could find out about Merlin’s magic, out of Merlin’s control, Gaius never saw this coming, and though the pain Merlin felt was regretful, The Physician is grateful, that it went so well.

End of Part 1!!

Part two is already almost finished. It’s much shorter than this, and will be out at some point in the next few days!! Sorry this took so long lads, I’ve been really busy atm.

EDIT: I’ve actually just finished writing part 2!! It’s queued to be published at 12:30PM GMT tomorrow (09/05/21)

EDIT 2.0: PART 2 IS UP!!

Also I couldn’t find any mythical creatures that fit what I wanted, so I straight up just made one up ✌️

Head over to This List to let me know what you want me to work on next! :)

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Unjust

Prompts: Prompt for ya if u like! Ur so talented, big fan of your stories!-->>> Arthur is forced to come to grips with how little Merlin's life matters to society when Uther refuses to even discipline the nobles who beat him, dismissing Arthur with the words that will change how he sees the world forever; "Stop being so dramatic, he's only a servant. I'll get you a new one." - anon

The last fic you just wrote with h/c and merlin's duties as a servant WAS SO GOOD AND SO PAINFUL. Could we get a sequel? Maybe the knights trying to deal with the aftermath or the first time it happens again and Merlin trying to figure out what's something he's supposed to tell Arthur about v. actually his job? I don't know - anon

Ah yes more of these bois always

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: implied/referenced abuse, uther is an absolute gobshite, merlin gets hurt quite bad

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2624

Arthur thought it couldn’t get worse.

Couldn’t get worse than Merlin looking at all of them with a completely serene expression on his face and telling them he’s been abused since the second he set foot in Camelot. That he could look at all of them and be absolutely sincere, calm, almost resigned about the torment he’s been put through.

Couldn’t get worse than Merlin being confused when all of the knights immediately protested, that yes, Merlin, this is systematic abuse, that has been allowed to pass unseen for too long, that there are no consequences for things like this but damnit there should be. That Merlin, somehow, knew that this was wrong but didn’t call it abuse.

Couldn’t get worse than Merlin looking at him, right at him, and telling him that Arthur has abused him, since day one, and that he doesn’t feel it’s his place to stop him. That Arthur has been complicit and has helped people abuse him because he thought Arthur didn’t care enough to help him realize that it was wrong.

No, Arthur thought they were past the worst of it.

Now Arthur tells Merlin bluntly that he’s not supposed to be the servant to any visiting knight. He’s supposed to walk them to their chambers and leave, right then. There will be other servants who will help them get settled the rest of the way. One will see to the bed. One will see to the food. One will see to the armor if, and only if, it is requested. Merlin will not spend a second more around the knights than he has to.

Merlin looks a little afraid when he tells him that and Arthur can’t stop himself from taking the man into his arms and asking him what’s the matter.

“They’ll be angry,” he mutters, studiously avoiding Arthur’s gaze, “they’ll be angry I’m not staying.”

“Then they can come and talk to me.” Arthur brushes Merlin’s hair out of his face. “But they don’t get to harm you.”

Leon enforces it the first time a knight decides no, he’s going to get upset when Merlin leaves. Leon’s temper does not flare often, nor does it flare particularly high, but he’ll never forget the way Merlin rushes to his side and tells him he swears Leon’s eyes flashed red for a second. Leon tells him later that he…persuaded the knight to be grateful that there were servants here to help him at all.

He makes sure to be nearby the next time, just to see Leon slam the knight against the wall.

Leon bustles Merlin down to the armory, passing it off as the need to clean the weapons, when Arthur knows full well it’s an excuse to hoard Merlin to themselves and keep him safe.

Sometimes Elyan takes it a step further, comes between whatever knight thinks it’s a good idea to accost Merlin in the armory and tells them back off. He makes a show of Merlin knowing exactly where all the weapons are and exactly how often one of them will come down to find him. Merlin returns to Arthur’s chambers after the first time with a soft ‘you’d really come look for me?’ Arthur doesn’t quite cuddle him to sleep that night but they don’t move from the hug for a while.

Percival, of course, turns the protective hug into an art form. The man is huge, certainly much larger than the average knight, and watching him glare at someone over Merlin’s shoulders is quickly turning into one of Arthur’s favorite past times. He’s no stranger to the way Merlin will sometimes scoot closer to someone when he’s feeling overwhelmed, but it’s something else to see Percival almost mold into shape when Merlin’s by his side. A soft word in Percival’s ear and you couldn’t drag him away.

Lancelot is never far from Merlin’s side. Merlin jokes one day that he and Arthur have some sort of alliance or pact; one of them is never allowed to be further than a few paces away from him if the other isn’t around.

“That’s not true, Merlin,” Lancelot chuckles, nudging his knee with his foot, “the two of us don’t have that pact.”

No, Arthur smiles privately to himself, the six of us have that pact.

And sometimes Merlin can’t come to Arthur. That knowledge still burns when he remembers it, but it makes sense. Arthur holds a position of power. Arthur has—whether he feels sick with regret or not—contributed to Merlin’s abuse. Arthur is not always there for Merlin the way he needs to be. But Lancelot is.

And when Lancelot isn’t, Merlin always has Gwaine.

Arthur is not too proud to admit that he and Gwaine butt heads more often than they don’t, certainly when it comes to Merlin. But where Merlin’s safety and comfort is concerned, they never fight. It is Merlin who dictates where he feels the safest, whose side he wants to stay at for a while. It is Merlin who decides where he will run when he’s upset. They never fight about it. It’s always concern—what can they do to help? When was the last time he ate? Does he want to talk about what happened? Merlin notices it the first time Arthur accidentally walks in on him lying in Gwaine’s arms and there’s nary a barb tossed between them before Arthur is softly asking if he’s allowed to stay too and Gwaine tucking him into the embrace alongside them.

“Did you two finally learn how to get along?”

“Only for you, Merlin,” Gwaine says quietly, “only for you.”

And yes, there are absolutely nights where Merlin shakes more than he usually does or one of the visiting knights makes the mistake of cuffing him where they can see and they all end up piled into Arthur’s chambers. After the knight’s been humiliated on the training field by every single one of them and blacklisted from any future tournaments.

Merlin doesn’t always ask for them, but when he does, everyone drops everything. That’s the unspoken agreement. Merlin so much as sniffles and their afternoon plans are dust. Arthur will never forget the day Percival swept into his chambers with Merlin in his arms, the other knights in a guard of honor as Merlin threw his arms around Arthur’s neck.

“Shh, shh,” Arthur murmurs, lowering them to the ground as Leon tells the guards to leave them be, “you’re safe, I won’t hurt you, you’re alright.”

That’s a promise.

So yes, Arthur thought it couldn’t get worse.

As always, leave it to his father to make everything worse.

Merlin is missing. Arthur strides out of his chambers before the guards even realize the doors have been thrown open. Merlin is missing and that’s all that matters. His armor clanks loudly in the hallway and the other people jump to the side to get out of his way.

Good.

He knocks on the door of Gaius’s chambers. Gaius looks at him like he’s just grown another head. It doesn’t matter. Where is Merlin?

“I thought he was with you, sire.”

Merlin is missing. He leaves with strict instructions to find him whenever Merlin turns up. He stalks to the armory and runs into Elyan and Percival. Where is Merlin?

“Haven’t seen him,” Elyan mutters, already rushing off, “I’ll ask Gwen.”

Percival falls into step behind him as they hustle down the corridor. Leon comes out of one of the halls and immediately assumes a position on Arthur’s left.

“What is it, sire?”

“Where is Merlin?”

Leon doesn’t say another word. If all the guards decide to flatten themselves against the wall as the three of them go by, that’s their business.

They find Gwaine muttering curses as he storms toward the tournament grounds.

“Where is Merlin?”

“If the way Godefroy was looking at him is any indication—“ and they’re already seeing red— “then we need to move.”

No need to tell them twice.

Arthur leads the charge down to the door. He throws it open and all the training knights freeze. He glares around at them, looking for Merlin, Merlin, you’re not Merlin.

“Godefroy,” comes Leon’s clipped voice, “where?”

“This way.” They turn to see Lancelot stalking toward the training ground, the other recruits parting like smoke as they storm forward.

Arthur feels it before he hears it.

Smack!

The other knights are caught in the maze of weapon racks as Arthur darts through the armory.

“Stupid, worthless boy, needs to be taught a lesson.”

Smack!

The wounded yelp makes him push faster. He rounds the corner and—

Godefroy. On top of Merlin. His hand raises to smack him again. Merlin on his back. Hands up. Defending but not defending enough.

His teeth are not bared.

His expression is resigned.

He does not spit in the knight’s face.

The knight moves to strike him again.

Not on my goddamn watch.

“Get your hands off him,” Arthur snarls, the blade singing as he pulls it from the scabbard, “get your hands off him!”

Godefroy looks up. “He’s just a servant, he needs to be disciplined properly.”

“You must not have heard me—“ why is he still too far away?— “I told you to get off of him.”

Godefroy rolls his eyes but complies, because Arthur is the prince and his word is law but that doesn’t mean the knight has to agree.

Merlin doesn’t move.

Arthur snarls again, readying his sword for an attack only for Godefroy to stand there, not readying himself for the blow.

“How dare you strike him,” he spits, “how dare you raise a hand to him.”

Godefroy says nothing.

“Are you too much of a coward to defend yourself?” Arthur hefts the sword. “Are you?”

“Arthur,” comes a steel voice from the other end of the hall, “what is the meaning of this?”

He turns.

Uther strides toward him, looking down his nose the way Arthur looks at the muck on his boots. “Surely you have some explanation for your behavior.”

“He hurt Merlin,” Arthur growls, gesturing at—oh, Merlin, why are you still on the floor?

Uther scoffs. “I understand being possessive of your property, but really, Arthur, there’s no need for such childish behavior.”

“Childish—Father, he hurt him.”

“So?”

So?

Fucking so?

“He’s just a servant,” Uther says, waving a dismissive hand, “stop being so dramatic. I’ll get you another one if Godefroy breaks him.”

Godefroy steps around Arthur, looking far too smug, and leaves.

Arthur stands there, panting, as his chest roils with anger too deeply buried to come out as anything other than agony.

This. This is why Merlin didn’t believe him.

Distantly, he hears the other knights rushing down the corridor and he turns, sheathing the sword and crouching, all but ripping off his rough gloves to cradle Merlin’s head in his hands.

“Merlin,” he calls softly, “Merlin, can you hear me?”

Merlin nods, his eyes still a little dazed.

“Good. Try and sit up. Lean on me if you need to.”

By the time Lancelot rushes forward to fall to his knees beside them, Merlin is propped up against Arthur’s shoulder, his head far too red for his liking. Gwaine mutters another curse as the knights spill protectively into the hall.

“Merlin,” Lancelot calls, “Merlin?”

Merlin shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he corrects, taking Merlin’s hand, “it’s really not.”

“It’s better me than someone else.”

Arthur buries his head in Merlin’s neck. Because Merlin’s right.

How many other servants have had to go through this? How many people has the mighty wheel of Uther Pendragon crushed underneath its weight? How many times has he turned the corner into a hallway where someone was beaten just for being a servant?

Merlin has him. Merlin has the knights. Merlin has Gaius. Merlin will be protected because they know about Merlin.

Who don’t they know about?

“This stops,” he grits out, “right now.”

“You can’t stop everyone,” Merlin mumbles, still slumped against Arthur, “you can’t, Arthur.”

“I’m the Crown Prince of Camelot,” Arthur says, holding Merlin tightly, “if I decide that there need to be consequences for actions, there will damn well be consequences.”

There are.

Merlin is shuttled back to his chambers with Lancelot and Elyan. Gwaine and Percival return to the training grounds with twin looks of determination. Arthur and Leon go straight to the steward.

The steward blinks up at them, clearly taken aback by the question. “I’m terribly sorry, sire, would you mind asking one more time?”

“The servants,” Arthur says, “how many of them are mistreated? How are they mistreated? I want to know.”

“Well, sire…all of them.” The steward fiddles with a stack of paper, moving it aside so he can lean on his elbows. “They do not have…there is not the power to protect them the way there is to protect you or the knights.”

“And how do we give them that power?”

“Come again, sire?”

“They are people,” Arthur says firmly, Leon’s unwavering presence at his side, “they are people and they should be treated as such. How do we ensure that happens?”

“W-well, sire,” the steward says slowly, “any large reforms would need the consent of the King. But there are…there are smaller ways that we can arrange for their treatment to…improve.”

“Such as?”

The steward looks at him strangely. “Forgive me, sire, but…I did not expect this behavior from you.”

Arthur shifts in the chair. “Perhaps I’ve been refusing to look for too long.”

“It is an admirable shift, sire.”

“It’s common decency. Now what do we do?”

Some knights start finding it hard to run into servants in the hallways. Some knights don’t receive chambers with proper insulation. Some knights are beaten down on the training ground over and over. Some knights find it impossible to stay.

Some knights figure out what’s going on quickly. Some knights have kind words and soft questions and thank-yous. Some knights start to push back when they see another knight be too brash, too rough, too callous.

Some knights get it. Some knights don’t.

Those that don’t either leave fast or learn faster.

Godefroy finds himself the training dummy, pelted with arrows, clubs, staffs. The other knights find he has grown cocky over sparring with whatever servants have been dragged out to the field and do not hide their interest when Leon offers to help him regain some of his prowess.

He never gets within five feet of Merlin again.

Uther is beside himself, wondering where all his servants have gone, where all his knights are going, and why no one else seems to be the least bit concerned about it. Arthur smiles privately to himself as he watches the steward explain calmly that if he wants to know what’s going on with the servants, perhaps he could try talking to them.

“After all, sire, servants are people too.”

#merthur #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #fic #dragonbabbles

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mca-attack21 · 4 years ago

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Surprise

This is part one of a three part of a King Arthur x Reader imagine mini-series based on the BBC’s Merlin. You can check out my Masterlist here. Enjoy!

You were brought out of your slumber by Arthur who kissed you and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you finally rolled over to face him smiling. He was kneeling beside your shared bed and looked like a child on Christmas morning, like he didn’t have a care in the world, genuinely happy.

“What’s gotten into you?” you asked with a laugh.

“I have a surprise for you, come on,” he said all but pulling you out of the bed and towards the door.

“Arthur, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“What?” he asked looking around.

“I need to get dressed.”

“Oh right, of course. You do that, and I will make sure everything is prepared. Meet me in the throne room when you are ready,” he replied heading out the door.

“Arthur,” you called after him.

“Yes?”

“I love you,” you said striding over to kiss him.

“I love you too,” he muttered as your lips fell apart.

He then proceeded to exit the room and one of the servants came in to help you dress for the day. You were quick to make it down to the throne room where Arthur greeted you. He offered you his arm and led you out to the courtyard where Merlin was waiting with two horses.

“Good morning Y/n,” Merlin greeted you.

“Good morning Merlin,” you returned.

“That will be all Merlin, enjoy your day off,” Arthur spoke.

“I will Sire,” Merlin curtseyed causing both you and Arthur to laugh.

Arthur helped you onto your horse before mounting his own.

“So, where exactly is it that we are going?” you asked.

“You will just have to wait and see,” he gleamed, “that is at least if you can catch me,” he said before racing off.

“Oh, it’s like that is it,” you followed after him. This reminded you of the rides the two of you used to go on while you were courting. It didn’t take you long to figure out exactly where he was leading you, and you took a short-cut.

When he did slow down to make sure you were still behind him, he was caught off-guard to see that there was no sign of you. He was on top of a hill that allowed him to see the majority of the path. Had something happened? Where were you? Maybe he shouldn’t have left you. Just as he was about to head back he heard a horse neigh in front of him.

“Are you coming or what?” you ask the King who looks at you in disbelief.

“How did you possibly get ahead of me?”

“You know a woman can never reveal her secrets,” you joke.

“Is that so,” he rolled his eyes in amusement.

The two of you rode a bit further before you arrived at your destination. “I’ve missed this Arthur,” you spoke as he helped you off of your horse.

“Me too, we ought to make it more of a habit,” he replied smiling.

“That we should, though I do have to ask, what brought this about?”

“The kingdom is at peace, the villages prosper, it seemed like as good of a day as any for a day off.”

“Sounds smart, so it was Merlin’s idea?” you joked.

“Oh, you will pay for that one.”

You tried your best to dart away from him, but your efforts were fruitless as he caught you and began to tickle you from behind.

“Okay, okay, I surrender. Please,” you laughed.

“That’s better,” Arthur replied turning you to face him and taking the opportunity to kiss you in a way that he reserved for privacy. “Now then, Merlin has packed us a proper picnic.”

As you laid the blanket out, Arthur was rummaging through the food and realized that Merlin had forgotten to fill the water canisters. You offered to do it as Arthur set out the food. You made your way down to the water basking in the perfectness of this day. The immense joy you felt was cut short as you heard voices the closer you got to Arthur. He was caught by two men, backed against a tree.

You had managed to sneak around to the horses and retrieve Arthur’s sword. And slipped behind the guy furthest from Arthur. Arthur briefly made eye contact with you and you could tell he was preparing himself for the fight.

“If you are going to kill me I would at least like to know why,” Arthur spoke.

“The Lady Morgana had sent us to Camelot with instructions to kill the King. Imagine our luck when we find him alone and unarmed in the middle of the woods,” the man smeared.

“That is where you are wrong, he is not alone,” you spoke catching both men off guard and taking the opportunity to knock the one closest to you out and toss Arthur his sword. He immediately began to duke it out with the remaining man. You watched as Arthur easily gained the upper hand and incapacitated his new-found enemy. He turned back to make sure that you were alright, a look of relief shared between the two of you.

As soon as it had come, the relief left your face as you saw a third man who had launched his dagger towards Arthur.

“Arthur look out!,” you yelled as you tackled him to the ground. He was quick to make his way to his feet and take the intruder out.

“Come on Y/n, we need to get out of here before more of Morgana’s men come looking for us,” he said as he sheathed his sword.

“Arthur,” you called, voice low.

He turned around immediately and felt his stomach drop. You were still on the ground. The dagger that was meant for him stuck in your side, blood already seeping through your shirt. He fought back his emotion as his went to your side. He was debating whether or not he should remove it. “This is why I never take you out,” he tried to joke.

“I’m sorry,” you smiled painfully.

“Not to worry, I will allow you to make it up to me later. But first, we have to get back to the castle,” he replied, “Do you think you can ride?” he asked. But even as the words left his mouth he knew the answer. The rate at which the energy and color was leaving you was alarming.

“Nevermind that, we will ride together. I am going to remove the dagger and wrap your wound. Then before you know it, we will be back in the castle,” he said more to himself than to you.

The amount of pain that you felt as he withdrew the dagger was unlike anything you had felt before. Your cries of pain brought tears to the young king’s eyes as he quickly tore his shirt to wrap tightly around you.

“I liked that shirt.”

“I’ll get Merlin to mend it then,” Arthur returned. He then lifted you up and carried you over to the horse. He was debating the best route to take knowing that there would most likely be more of Morgana’s men. With the way he was positioned, it would be impossible to go beyond a trot without jostling you too much and causing you additional pain.

As you were riding, it was beginning to become more and more of a struggle for you to stay awake. Arthur noticing this decided it was best to keep you talking.

“You know, this is still not the worst date that I’ve been on,”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, though at least in the other ones I actually got to eat the food,” he tried to joke. Your soft laughs turned into coughs. Which brought concern to Arthur. “Just take it easy Y/n, we will be there soon.”

“Arthur I-”

“Shh, just save your strength.”

“No, I need to say this just in case,”

“Y/n please, you are going to be fine. There is no need for dramatics,” he tried to hide his concern.

“Well then I won’t tell you that I love you,” you struggled.

“And I won’t tell you that I love you too,” he replied.

It was minutes later that your body went completely slack against his. “Y/n? Y/n, hold on,” he said as he had to shift in order not to lose balance or hold of you. He brought the horse to a stop long enough to check that you were still breathing. He then began to direct the horse faster until he made it into the courtyard.

He was immediately greeted by the knight’s who were not expecting him back for some time. Upon seeing him they questioned what had happened and if he were okay. But he ignored them and lifted you up, carrying you straight to Gaius’ chambers.

The old man was startled when the door was kicked open. His eyes went wide as he saw the king carrying you in. “Merlin!” he yelled before quickly clearing off his table. Arthur laid you down, taking in the sight of you for the first time since he had helped you on the horse.

“What happened?” Merlin asked

“We were attacked by some of Morgana’s men. She pushed me out of the way of a dagger. I tried to stop the bleeding,” Arthur answered.

“How long has she been unconscious, Sire?” Gaius asked.

“Not long, since the edge of the woods at most,” Arthur answered, “Is she going to be okay Gaius?”

“I will do everything that I can, I promise, but please give me some space,” Gaius said.

Arthur agreed reluctantly before leaving the room. Once he closed the door he was met with Leon and Gwaine, who asked him what had happened. He explained and sent out patrols to scour the area and return with your horse. He then sunk down in the hallway, refusing to leave until he had a better sense of your condition.

Meanwhile Gaius had managed to stop your bleeding. He had been able to determine that beyond the fact that the wound was deep and you had lost a considerable amount of blood, that you should be fine. He gave you a potion to help speed up your recovery and sent Merlin to fetch Arthur, so that you could be taken up to your chambers.

As soon as he opened the door he couldn’t say he was entirely surprised to see that Arthur had never really left.

“How is she?”

“Gaius stopped the bleeding and gave her something to help her recover from the blood loss, she should be awake by morning,” Merlin explained.

As Arthur entered he was taken aback by how still you were. You looked small, helpless, something that he’d never really seen before.

“You can take her back to your chambers, Sire, I will come check on her before dinner,” Gaius informed.

Arthur carried you up and laid you carefully in your bed covering you up and taking a seat by your side. He hadn’t even noticed that Merlin had followed him.

“Arthur, we should get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling out some fresh clothes.

“Hmm?”

“I said that we should get you cleaned up. You know, so when Y/n wakes she won’t be frightened,” Merlin joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“I suppose you’re right,” Arthur agreed, hesitant to take his eyes off of you.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Merlin spoke.

“She saved my life.”

“And she is going to be fine,” Merlin reminded.

“I just don’t know what I would do if something were to happen to her.”

“Hopefully the day that you would find out will never come.”

Merlin helped Arthur into his fresh clothes. “Is there anything I can get you? Perhaps some food?”

“No, that will be all Merlin, thank you.”

“Wow, a day off and a ‘thank you’ in the same day, Gwaine is right, Y/n is making you soft.”

This caused Arthur to chuckle as he returned to his seat at your side. He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest and paused for a moment to brush some of your hair out of your face. He wished to remain there, but Merlin came in telling him that the knights had returned. Arthur left as Merlin promised to take his place and inform him if there was any change.

#arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon imagines #arthur pendragon x reader #king arthur imagines #king arthur imagine #king arthur x reader #BBC Merlin #merlin imagines #merlin imagine #bbc merlin imagine #bbc merlin imagines #camelot imagine #camelot imagines

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deborahdeshoftim5779 · 3 years ago

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Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality (Part III)

Following on from Merlin & Arthur’s friendship: clichés versus reality Part I and Part II, here’s Part III.

CLAIM 5 #: Merlin thinks fighting is meaningless violence

Merlin certainly claimed it-- but his actions told a different story.

It took me a long time to understand that Merlin was in fact very similar to Arthur. This realisation came while rewatching episodes 5x03 and 5x04 in particular; in the latter episode, Merlin admitted to Arthur that if someone had murdered his father, he would probably have sought vengeance. Yet we know that Merlin hated vengeance, and that he had physically intervened to stop Arthur from yielding to said vengeance.

This led me to see how Arthur and Merlin’s friendship became a coping mechanism to deal with the loss of their respective family (literally and figuratively).

One key way that Merlin is similar to Arthur is that he, too, pretends not to like something in public, while his actions speak differently.

Hence why Merlin loved claiming that fighting was pointless, that it was just “sweaty men knocking the sense out of each other” (episode 4x09), and appeared not to enjoy training sessions. Episode 1x02 had a hilarious and undoubtedly genuine example of Merlin abhorring the art of war, as he struggled to hold his weaponry, tripped, tumbled, and probably ended up with tinnitus! “D’you you hear clanging?”

I used to think this change occurred much later, but episode 1x02 showed Merlin eagerly watching the tournament just one day after he complained about having to learn more fighting techniques and about being Arthur’s servant.

Also, after being pilloried for being clumsy with Arthur’s armour, the first thing Merlin did was to seek Gwen’s assistance. Look how proud he was later, when he put everything on correctly. “That was much better,” Arthur said, to which Merlin responded, “I’m a fast learner.”

This suggests that, being a resourceful person who lands on his feet, Merlin quickly realised that he would have to learn about warfare if he was to make his way in Camelot.

I already have a lengthy post proving that Merlin had excellent capabilities in battle, and that Arthur had potentially trained him better than his knights. See the link below this post.

However, the greatest evidence that Merlin respected the art of war was his insistence that Arthur stand up and fight to reclaim Camelot. This occurred chiefly in episode 3x13, when Arthur was discouraged by Morgana’s treachery, and in episode 4x13, when Arthur completely lost hope and abdicated the throne.

In both episodes, Merlin helped take back Camelot not only using magic, but also with the sword. Notice that in episode 3x13, Sir Lancelot never questioned Merlin’s ability with a sword. Instead, he was impressed by its powers. As far as Lancelot was concerned, Merlin was “the one Arthur should knight. You’re the bravest of us all and he doesn’t even know it.” So Lancelot knew that Merlin was a capable fighter, and would embody the noble warrior so admired in Camelot.

Ironically, Lancelot did not live to see Merlin dressed as a knight in 4x05 during the mission to trap King Caerleon.

Of course, we have an example from Merlin’s own mouth: “You’re a great warrior,” he said to Arthur in episode 1x13. In episode 3x01, he was impressed by Arthur fighting blindfolded against two opponents, though he quickly tried pretending that he had “seen better”. In episode 3x04, he laughed at Dagr’s threats against Arthur: “I’d like to see you try!” Then he tried persuading Gwaine to stay in Camelot on the basis that, “You and Arthur: you fought well together.” During that episode, Merlin was impressed by Gwaine’s fighting before and during the mêlée.

In episode 5x05, he watched Arthur duelling against Mordred unarmed, then stood up to applaud the king. We can safely assume this occurred many times, since Merlin attends all training sessions and is responsible for maintaining all of Arthur’s armour. Many scenes, such as in episodes 4x05, 4x09, and 5x03, show him either polishing or putting on Arthur’s armour.

So why all of Merlin’s dismissive comments? For one thing, he didn’t like the braggadocio and arrogance of many knights-- or those who would wish to be knights. Hence why he called Valiant a “creep” in episode 1x02, much to Arthur’s amusement. Secondly, he did not see the point of certain tournaments, such as that of episode 3x11. It didn’t help that Arthur said, “The only rule is: there are no rules.” Thirdly, the death toll alarmed him. “Cause last time this tournament was held, three men died... That was just on the first day.” (Also episode 3x11.)

Another reason that hit me while rereading this: Merlin wasn’t naturally good at fighting. Remember that Arthur said, “I’ve been trained to kill since birth.” (Episode 1x01) This suggests some natural talent on his part, though greatly improved with hard work. Meanwhile, Merlin not only fumbled with weaponry, but faced merciless teasing from Arthur about his lack of skill. To compensate for his feelings of incompetence, Merlin linked Arthur’s fighting prowess to his arrogance: “How long have you been training to be a prat?” (Episode 1x01)

While he had a good point, it was also a way to dismiss his inexperience with fighting and other facts of life. We have to remember that he came from a tiny, poor village. Camelot could have been another planet.

Despite all this, when it came to watching Arthur train, watching Arthur train his knights, and, most importantly, fighting to defend Camelot, Merlin had nothing but respect for the art of war.

CLAIM #6: Arthur (mostly/always) needed Merlin to make big decisions

Untrue, as the following examples will demonstrate.

By the way, Merlin helped fuel this idea that his decisions were necessary for Arthur’s rule. In episode 4x11, he asked Gaius whether he should do anything to cause Arthur and Gwen’s reconciliation. Gaius rightly asked, “You don’t think that’s a little arrogant?”

In episode 3x07, Arthur decided to rescue Gwen’s brother-- a complete stranger-- from the Castle of Fyrien. Just one episode later, he succeeded at the majority of his quest in the Perilous Lands despite being enchanted to lose his energy. Needless to say, the choice of retrieving the trident of the Fisher King was Arthur’s alone, made after a night of contemplation.

Another great example comes from episode 4x05, where Arthur repented of his wrongdoing to Caerleon and his kingdom, and refused to make his men risk their lives on his account. He then took matters into his own hands, pleading with Queen Annis to invoke the right of single combat.

In episode 4x06, Arthur only told a few people that he was riding through the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Merlin wasn’t one of those people, hence why he said, “Arthur. You are not serious...Nothing good ever happens in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Nobody in their right mind would go in there.”

How come Merlin didn’t know? Arthur said, “The routes are secret, Merlin: that’s why *we* chose it.” Emphasis my own. Later, we discover that Arthur had discussed this with his council, a select number of knights, and Agravaine.

My favourite example comes from episode 4x11. Arthur negotiated with a longstanding rival, Nemeth, over the status of the lands of Gedref. We cannot underestimate that achievement. Arthur said that the lands have “long been in dispute”, and when he announced the end of their negotiations, the knights looked extremely nervous. Arthur had to allay their fears by calling it a “fair and honourable agreement”. That may have been a polite way of saying that they had avoided humiliating sacrifices and war.

On top of that, Arthur sealed the treaty by securing an engagement to the Princess of Nemeth-- exactly the kind of political savvy that his father had encouraged. “Your marriage should have been used to form an alliance with another kingdom…” (Episode 5x03.)

The first thing Merlin said was, “How come I didn’t know any of this? How come you didn’t say anything?” I will not go into why Merlin’s reaction here was presumptuous and arrogant, but we can see that Arthur deliberately kept this information from Merlin to avoid disagreement and argument.

Of course, the great episodes 5x01 and 5x02 show Arthur risking everything to save his men “or die trying”, because to do otherwise would be to sacrifice his beliefs. In episode 5x04, Arthur decided to rescue King Rodor from King Odin, in spite of the immense danger and the holes in Princess Mithian’s story. In episode 5x05, he decided to beg the Disir for Mordred’s life, because he did not want another innocent man dying on his behalf.

And so on.

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART IV

More on Merlin’s fighting skills

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lit-in-thy-heart · 4 years ago

Note

If you want to! Mergwaine and tackle hug (romantic or platonic). Idk Gwaine is just the type and it’d be so cute. Maybe after they’ve been reunited??? Or not whatever works 💗

@rainbowvamp thank you for the prompt!! 💕 i took a couple of liberties in that it's a tackle and a hug, i hope that's alright, and i'm sorry about the tone, they just seem to be getting angstier and angstier...

(set a few days after camlann)

as usual, under the cut, and thank you again!!

Whilst the rest of the court marvelled at Gwaine’s miraculously hasty recovery, Gwaine was embracing his newly-discovered invincibility by patrolling the Darkling Woods alone.

He had been clinging to life by a thread, but even in his deadened state he had recognised the hands that had slowly coaxed his body back to consciousness. Instinctively, Gwaine’s own hand jumped to his chest, where he had felt Merlin’s fingers brush against his skin. He wasn’t sure if he’d called out his name, if they’d even spoken, or quite what Merlin had done to him, but Gwaine had been able to sit up after a day and Merlin had been gone.

Healing spells had never been Merlin’s strong suit and Gwaine knew that they were capable of draining every last trace of a skittish pulse if the healer was already weakened. And Merlin would be weakened after watching Arthur die, that Gwaine knew all too well. And Gwaine couldn’t lose Merlin, not after everything that had happened. Particularly not as a result of Merlin reversing Morgana’s damage.

Gwaine pushed through the branches, tucking his hair behind his ear and pausing for a moment by a large oak tree. His fingers fumbled for the knots on the trunk as his legs threatened to crumble beneath him, seeking out the letters carved into the wood. It had been a ridiculous idea, and childish at that, but that hadn’t stopped him from leaving the scar of his initials interlinked with that of Merlin’s in the soft sunset so many years before. Severing himself from the tree as the strength returned to him in gradual waves, Gwaine moved further into the woods, plunging into the translucent darkness left by the shadows of the sun as the leaves above him obscured its path. He and Merlin had grown apart over the last year, and Gwaine had been trying his best to not let it show just how desperately his feet were treading water beneath the surface in the effort to keep their relationship afloat. Merlin had not left his side for a week after Gwaine had returned from Morgana’s clutches with Percival, but he had been paying more and more attention to Arthur and his well being, which Gwaine had attempted to apply logic to. It had made sense that Merlin was focused on Arthur, particularly with the multiple threats lurking in the shadows, and Gwaine himself had sworn loyalty to Arthur. Though that didn’t mean that his service, as it had always been, wasn’t primarily dedicated to Merlin. Everything he did – or had done – for Arthur had been because Merlin had asked him to, or because Gwaine had been able to see the expression lingering in the eyes that he knew so well, the fear that had darkened the delicate irises for the past year.

For a year, Gwaine had mourned the moments where Merlin would unflinchingly tell him about his father, or his magic, or the numerous dangers he’d encountered – though that last one had usually been reserved for when Gwaine had needed a scare to rid himself of hiccups. He had watched Merlin close off more and more of himself and Gwaine hadn’t even realised that Merlin had been dying until he had collapsed on Gwaine’s bed hours after the attempted assassination of Arthur and begrudgingly told him the whole tale. Even then he’d elected to omit the fact that Gwen was wanting Arthur dead, but Gwaine also knew that Merlin had the opinion of himself that his word was worth nothing, despite Gwaine having told him multiple times that he would believe Merlin over Arthur any day of the week. And if Merlin had spent the last of his spirit on Gwaine before they even had the chance to recover the land decimated by drought, Gwaine would never forgive himself.

Through the hesitant birdsong, the snapping of a twig resounded like a crossbow bolt to the skull. Gwaine pressed himself to a tree trunk and, one hand hovering over his sword, ignited sparks that scattered themselves across his fingertips. Through the branches, he caught sight of a hooded figure and a glint of metal and, putting aside all cautions of taking it easy, launched himself at the intruder. Having knocked them to the ground, Gwaine roughly turned them over onto their back between his legs, hand drawn back behind his head as the sparks evolved into ribbons of fire, his eyes burning with the same heat that Merlin’s had flared with so many times.

The same heat that was flickering right in front of him.

In wonder, Merlin reached up with his fingertips to graze the stubble on Gwaine’s chin, the drawn and anxious expression buried amidst it, the bruises stretched out beneath his eyes. When he spoke, he sounded like he was older than time itself. ‘I didn’t think it would work,’ he whispered, the fire in his eyes fading.

Instead of the vibrant blue that Gwaine was used to, the gaze that held his was commanded by the uncertain watery depths of the sky snatched between storm clouds. It was like all the colour had been drained from him and Merlin had been left with the dregs of his former self, and Gwaine’s hands, dropping the flames like he had dropped his guard around the warlock so long ago, jumped to Merlin’s cheeks to check that he was not some trick of his mind.

‘What happened to you?’

‘I gave you all,’ Merlin breathed back, eyes still roaming his form. ‘Because I couldn’t save Arthur, so I had to save you. Morgana was the darkness to my light, and you are my light. I couldn’t let her corrupt you. So I poured everything I had into reversing her damage. I poured everything I had into you.’

‘And nearly killed yourself in the process,’ said Gwaine sharply, fingers darting to the faint heartbeat beneath Merlin’s shirt. He slid from him, trying to conceal his trembling lower lip, and shook out his hair as he held out his arms. ‘Come here, you self-sacrificing fuck.’

Merlin fell into him like an acorn burying itself in the ground, rooting itself to the very earth it would one day become in the hopes of being able to slowly flourish. Savouring the cool touch, Gwaine wrapped his arms around the warlock in the attempt to transfer some of his body heat. Merlin was still breathing, which was always a good sign, and the heart thumping against him was stronger than it had been mere moments before. They hadn’t held each other like this since the morning that Merlin had been released from the cells after being cleared of poisoning Arthur. When Merlin touched him, it was like a butterfly was darting across Gwaine’s skin and seeking out the nectar hidden in his pores, and Gwaine closed his eyes.

‘Do you still have your magic?’

Merlin’s reply was thickened by the threat of tears. ‘I think so. It doesn’t feel as strong as it did, but I know a way to get it back if it is gone. You didn’t tell me that you’d been practising.’

Gwaine’s fingers were making their way along Merlin’s ribs. ‘There wasn’t really a chance to drop it into conversation,’ he softly said. ‘You were preoccupied with—You were preoccupied with other things.’

‘I’m sorry. For isolating myself. I just—I couldn’t afford to get distracted. I couldn’t allow everything that had been built to crumble so soon after.’ Merlin dropped his head into Gwaine’s shoulder. ‘It has anyway, though, and I’ve hurt you in the process. And I should have stayed by your side, when I healed you. But there were other voices and I was selfish and couldn’t handle the prospect of yet another failure, this time with an audience, and—’

‘Merlin, it’s alright. You’ve had so much pressure put on you for so long and, yes, you’ve hurt me, but you’re a selfless bastard who was doing it to protect me. I’d say that I expect you to make it up to me, but you’ve just saved my life, so I think that counteracts some of the distance that was between us. Not that I’ll say no to flowers, if that inclination possesses you,’ Gwaine added as an afterthought.

Pulling away, Merlin abandoned his fingers to Gwaine’s soft hair, gaze darting anywhere but Gwaine’s warm eyes. Then, he met them. ‘You know I love you, don’t you?’

Had Merlin asked that several months ago, Gwaine would have screamed that he show him, but Merlin had been willing to sacrifice himself for Gwaine. And Merlin being prepared to drain himself of his magic, the one thing that he had defined himself by – which was arguably not the best idea, but there would be time to show Merlin how much more he was worth – was more than enough proof that he loved Gwaine. ‘I know now. And I love you too.’

‘I won’t leave you again, I promise you.’

A lifetime of living as a pariah was screaming at Gwaine to not trust Merlin, to push him away to protect himself, but his heart was weeping and Merlin’s stare was so fierce for one who seemed so fragile. ‘I know you won’t.’ Gwaine pressed a kiss to Merlin’s forehead, lips lingering as he closed his eyes. ‘I know you won’t.’

#perhaps a little pleased with myself at actually managing to finish this one today even if there isn't much hug #i'm sorry...my mind just goes to places and my fingers follow #hope you like it and thanks again!#merlin #gwaine #merwaine #mergwaine #bbc merlin #hug prompts #lit writes

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emachinescat · 4 years ago

Text

The Masks that Most Suit Us

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 13 - hiding injury

Summary: After Uther’s death and a mishap on the training field, Merlin chooses to suffer in silence in an effort to allow Arthur to grieve unburdened. But everyone has their breaking point – even the newly crowned king of Camelot.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur

Words: 6,208

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

Seems the mask that most suits me is anger,

For it covers a whole host of things:

Trepidation, disgust, insecurity,

And embarrassment with all its stings...

- From “Impenetrable” by Anna J. Arredondo

The king was dead, and Merlin had never felt so conflicted.

A part of him – an ugly part, he thought, one he tried to keep hidden, even from himself – rejoiced, not at the loss of life, but at the new possibilities for the future. The years Merlin had been in Camelot had been bathed in secrecy and terror, the prophecies of the Great Dragon a soothing balm that mostly kept the hopelessness at bay, and with each day that passed the same, Merlin found himself believing less and less in that grand destiny he supposedly shared with Arthur.

But now – now, things were changing, and quickly. Uther was dead, Arthur was king, and though Merlin was still not free, for the first time in a long time, hope now peeped its timid head out into the sun. Magic might still be illegal, but Merlin knew Arthur to be a better, fairer man than his father. Someday, maybe someday soon, the world would turn itself right side up for the first time, and he and Arthur could begin to build the kingdom that Merlin so longed for, the one he cherished even though it only existed in his dreams and the prophecies of strangers.

Indeed – a part of Merlin found a comfort and joy at the king’s passing, and even though he knew that Uther had killed so many of his kind – and would have killed Merlin too, had he known – guilt stirred within him. Death was not something that should ever be celebrated; that was largely the reason he hated going on royal hunts.

On the other hand, it wasn’t just King Uther, slaughterer of innocents and scourge on magic, who had died. He had also been Arthur’s father, and the newly crowned king, stoic as he might pretend to be in court, was now experiencing the level of grief that only losing a parent could impart. Merlin had felt it, years ago; the pain of that particular loss had severed his soul in a way different than losing Will, or even Freya had. The death of a father broke in a way that could fully never be mended. Merlin had known his for a few days. Uther had been there for Arthur’s entire life, and now, suddenly and unfairly, he had been ripped away.

For the first few hours after Uther’s death, Merlin was at war with himself, hating himself for the feelings of relief that he could not entirely stave off. After seeing the pain in his friend’s eyes, however, all thoughts of vindication or justice fled his mind as quickly as they had stolen in. Arthur was in his own personal hell, and it didn’t matter anymore what Uther had done, only what he had been to his son, and so Merlin found himself grieving alongside the prince for a man he hated.

***

Four days had passed since Uther’s death. Arthur had been sullen but grieved privately, if he grieved at all. To the people, he put up a strong front. To his friends and those closest to him, he put up an even stronger one. So far, Merlin had been uncharacteristically silent on the matter, not wanting to push Arthur too far too quickly. But he knew from his own experiences with loss that there had to be a breaking point. Arthur wasn’t going to be able to stay strong forever, and the warlock worried about what would happen when the time for hiding behind the façade came to an end.

CLANG

Merlin flinched behind the shield as Arthur’s sword pounded into it. His arms ached from the strain, a numbness creeping in about his wrists. They’d been at this for nearly an hour now, and Arthur showed no signs of tiring or stopping. First it had been dueling – “You have to be able to block a blow from a sword with a sword, Merlin; you won’t always have a shield just lying about. Now stop complaining and assume the defensive position before I lob your head off!” Then, Arthur had moved on to flails, then Merlin had gotten a blessed break as Arthur threw daggers at a target (until Arthur insisted Merlin try as well and then yelled at him for having the weakest arms in the five kingdoms). The used weapons now lay discarded on the grass around them like the carnage of a small battle. Now, of course, Merlin was defending himself with a shield that Arthur was attacking like it had been the one who killed his father.

“Arthur,” Merlin gasped. His chest burned with exertion and sweat poured down his face and darkened the neck of his shirt – he’d discarded the stifling neckerchief ages ago, it was far too hot. Small tremors ran down his forearms. He was certainly more fit than he’d been when he’d first come to Camelot, but the shield was still heavy and he didn’t have the stamina – or emotional fuel – that Arthur did. He was tired, he hurt all over, and he felt much too hot. “Arthur, can we stop now?”

Arthur didn’t respond. His eyes, though fixated on the shield, were far away, and a peculiar shine tinted them. The sweat pouring down his face could have just as easily been tears. He kept hitting the shield, and Merlin felt every blow wear him down a little more.

“Arthur, please, you need to stop–”

CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.

“Arthur–”

With an almighty clash, Arthur swung the sword like it was an axe and the shield a tree, and the force was so great – and Merlin’s arms so tired – that the impact of the hit sent the shield crashing into Merlin’s face and knocked him off balance. Pain exploded as the metal hit his face, and he found himself falling back, flailing. It would have made more sense to just let himself fall without making an attempt to catch himself – after all, it wasn’t as if he were falling from a great height. But his instinct to catch himself took over. One hand landed on grass. The other had the distinct misfortune to find the flail left lying on the ground, off to the side of where they’d been training.

At first he didn’t even feel anything, the edge was so sharp, and perhaps that was why Merlin was able to school his reaction into something more inconvenienced than injured. His servant's tumble seemed to break Arthur from his trance, and he threw the sword down, scowling.

“What the hell did you trip over this time?” he demanded, and Merlin realized that Arthur had been so caught up in, well, whatever that had been, that he’d not even realized that he was the reason for Merlin’s fall.

At this point, the pain in Merlin’s hand registered, slicing as deeply into his palm as the spike on the flail had, and he looked down to see blood already surging from the deep cut in his palm. Arthur threw down his sword, his eyes flashing in irritation, but Merlin was well-versed at seeing what lay beneath. Sucking in a deep breath against the anguish in his hand, Merlin quickly made to hide it from the new king. Arthur was suffering enough, and Merlin knew that the knowledge he’d accidentally hurt Merlin would only make things worse.

Arthur cast a quick glance around at the weapons strewn about the grass with derision. “Clean up this mess, Merlin,” he ordered tersely. So caught up in his own misery, his normally keen eyes did not pick up on the tightness in Merlin’s face, nor the way he awkwardly shielded his right hand behind his body. If he had been paying attention, he would have known something was wrong. But he wasn’t – he couldn’t, there was too much going on inside of his head – and so he stalked off the training field, leaving his bleeding servant to clean up the tremendous mess he’d made, one-handed.

***

An hour later, Merlin finally staggered into Gaius’s chambers, his head and hand screaming for his attention. After Arthur had left, Merlin had hastily bound up his badly bleeding hand as best he could with his neckerchief. Thankfully the training grounds were vacant – everyone had been steering clear of spaces that contained both King Arthur and deadly weapons these days, if at all possible – so Merlin didn’t have to explain his injury to anyone. He was especially glad that Gwaine was nowhere to be seen – without doubt, he would have bullied who had done it out of Merlin and then tried to start a fight with Arthur, dead father or not.

By the time Merlin had gathered up all of the weapons, his hand, fingers and all, hurt too much to move, and the makeshift bandage had already bled through, but Merlin kept working, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket in order to keep from getting blood everywhere. He had to take three trips to the armory since he only had the use of one hand, and then he had to make sure he cleaned the blood off of the flail’s head on top of that. By the time he finally made it back to the physician’s chambers, he was feeling woozy and blood had pooled in and soaked through the pocket.

Extracting his hand from the jacket was a nightmare in itself. The sensation of anything brushing against any part of the appendage sent bolts of agony up his arm. He’d curled his fist instinctively around the cut, and a shudder crawled unbidden down Merlin’s spine at the pain. Some of the blood had dried, so peeling the soaked neckerchief from the wound pulled at the torn flesh. Merlin supposed it was lucky he’d decided to wear his red one; it wouldn’t stain as noticeably. He might even be able to salvage the fabric.

After unwrapping the wound, Merlin worked quickly. Gaius was nowhere to be seen, but he could be back at any moment. For reasons Merlin didn’t entirely know himself, he had no desire for Gaius to find out about what had happened – perhaps it was because Gaius would probably force him to take a foul potion, or maybe it was because he didn’t want his guardian to worry. More likely, he realized as he carefully bathed his hand in a basin of clean, cold water, it was because he didn’t want to talk about how it had happened. Gaius might let it slip to Arthur, and Merlin didn’t want the newly crowned king to have to deal with anything else on top of his father’s death. Gods knew that Arthur would blame himself, even if it was an accident, and more guilt was the opposite of what he needed.

By the time Merlin had washed the wound, the water in the basin was red. The bleeding had mostly stopped while his hand was submerged, but the moment he pulled it out, blood welled up immediately, the flow faster than Merlin liked to see. He did get a better look at the wound itself, which caused another bout of lightheadedness. The spike had cut cleanly, and no major tendons or nerves seemed to have been severed – thank the gods. Still, the two-inch gash went deep, and as Merlin examined it, gently and excruciatingly pulling apart the edges ever so slightly in search of any contaminants that could cause infection – he shed a few silent tears, here – he saw a small glint of white.

Distinctly ill, Merlin quickly slathered a generous amount of honey on the wound, hissing at the pain. The balm mixed unpleasantly with the blood but helped slow the flow until Merlin could bind his hand securely with bandages. He knew now that the wound was deep enough to need stitches, but he couldn’t stitch one-handed and Gaius wasn't here, and anyway, Merlin really didn’t want anyone to know. He’d keep an eye on it, and if the bleeding didn’t let up enough, he’d go to Gaius when he came back. As it was, though, he’d bound his hand so tightly that his fingers were going numb, and that should be enough to stem the bleeding for now – he hoped.

Weak with exhaustion, Merlin knew his work wasn’t over yet and made as quick work as possible of pouring out the bloody basin-water, scrubbing the bowl one-handed, and refilling it with fresh, clean water. Merlin then peeled off his jacket, the lower half of which was stained a dark red against the brown and which smelled of blood, and wearily climbed the three stairs to his room. He shoved the bloody jacket as well as the neckerchief into the very back of his wardrobe, intending to deal with them the next day.

And then he fairly collapsed on his bed, arms aching from the workout he’d received during training, hand throbbing in time with his heart, and head pounding in a discordant tattoo of pain. There was something he was forgetting, he knew it – most likely something important – but he was dizzy and sick, in pain and exhausted, and before he could force himself up and to his feet, he had fallen asleep.

***

Arthur stormed into Gaius’s chambers, fury written on every line of his face. It had been four hours since Arthur had left the inept servant to clean up after training, and he’d expected Merlin back ages ago. He was exhausted from barely sleeping at night, aching from training, and despite the fact that he’d left his food nearly untouched the past few nights, indignant that his servant had swanned off and not brought him dinner. Quite honestly, the king was flabbergasted that Merlin had disappeared at all. It was bad enough that he was barely reliable when life was normal, but didn’t he know what Arthur was going through? Couldn’t he see that Arthur needed –

Arthur cut off his own thoughts, unable or unwilling to unpack whatever unwelcome thought was trying to take shape. He glanced around at the empty chambers and knew that Gaius had probably gone on his evening rounds. Merlin was nowhere to be seen, either. Probably in the tavern, the useless lug.

“Merlin!” Arthur called out, stomping for the stairs that led to his servant’s bedroom. I swear to the gods, if you’re sleeping…

The door opened before Arthur reached it. Merlin stood on the other side, wearing the clothes he’d trained in – though the jacket and neckerchief were gone. He looked tired and disoriented, and more concerningly, an ugly, swollen bruise had appeared in the middle of his forehead, extending its tendrils under his eyes. The bridge of his nose was red and puffy. Arthur’s rage momentarily abated, or rather, redirected onto whoever had done that to his servant.

“Who hit you?” he demanded.

Merlin blinked blearily at his master, then muttered, “No one … A maid accidentally slammed a door in my face.” Then he gasped. “What time is it? Oh gods, I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep yet, was I?”

Knowing that Merlin’s sorry state had been an accident and being reminded of the servant’s ineptitude brought all of Arthur’s irritation back in an instant. “Oh, no, Merlin,” Arthur growled, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “Now that I’m king, I’ve changed day to night and night to day, so you can sleep all you want in the middle of the afternoon.”

“Can you do that, switch night and day?” Arthur genuinely couldn’t tell if Merlin was trying to be funny or if he was really that stupid. Then he corrected himself – of course Merlin was that stupid. He didn’t dignify the query with an answer. “I should have you in the stocks for this,” he growled, and Merlin’s eyes went wide. It had been a long time since Merlin had been thrown in the stocks, especially by Arthur himself. After all, with the strange friendship that had formed between them, while rife with insults, one-sided rough-housing, and well-aimed barbs at one another’s character, this level of anger had become a rarity in recent days.

Arthur didn’t really intend to lock Merlin up anywhere, but it felt obscenely good to threaten. It felt good to do anything but be still and exist in his own mind. “Unfortunately,” he continued, “I am in need of your services, so I’ll let you off the hook – this time.” Merlin’s relief was palpable, and Arthur felt the tiniest stab of guilt knowing that his servant had thought him serious.

He shoved it away, back into the recesses of his mind with everything else he didn’t have time to dwell on. “Come on, make yourself useful – fetch my dinner. And prepare yourself for a late night – all of my ceremonial armor needs to be scrubbed, my boots cleaned, my room dusted, my…” He trailed off, noticing something quite odd – well, odder than usual – about his servant. Merlin, who had the audacity to yawn during Arthur’s list of chores, instinctively raised his left hand to cover his mouth. Arthur did a double-take, glanced at Merlin’s right hand, which hung limply by his side, and confirmed he wasn’t crazy. “Merlin,” Arthur interrupted himself. “Why the hell are you wearing gloves? It’s the middle of summer!”

Merlin arranged his face into something Arthur could only call a pout. “My hands are cold. Isn’t that usually why people wear gloves, Sire?”

“Again,” Arthur insisted, “it’s summer.” But he didn’t pursue it any further, because there was so much on his mind, and he really didn’t have the capacity to deal with Merlin behaving even more strangely than usual. “Just… fetch my dinner, will you?” The preoccupied king turned on his heel and trudged from the room, barely aware of the niggling little voice in the back of his mind that told him something wasn’t quite right with his servant.

***

As Merlin made his weary way to the kitchens, holding his injured hand protectively to his body, he kept his head down and hoped no one would see his face. He felt like an idiot – when he’d heard Arthur coming, he’d grabbed his only pair of winter gloves and pulled one painstakingly over his stiff, bandaged hand. Then he’d maneuvered the other one on, because even Arthur, oblivious as he was, would most likely be suspicious of his servant running around with a glove on one hand. But he hadn’t even thought about his face – even though he’d not seen his reflection since the disastrous training, he should have known his face would look bad too – Arthur had knocked the shield into it with great force. Thankfully, Arthur had bought the lie he’d scrabbled for on the fly, but he knew if any of his other friends saw him, Gwen or Gwaine especially, they wouldn’t be fooled as easily as the king who had too much on his mind to second-guess anything in the wake of his father’s passing.

It was difficult and slow-going once Merlin had actually picked up the large tray of meats, cheeses, fruits, and a hearty stew. Merlin’s right hand was completely useless, as even miniscule movements caused him great pain, and so he had to lift the tray in one hand and use his chest to balance it. Going up the stairs turned into a nightmare, and he only just avoided sending Arthur’s dinner clanking and splashing down two flights. He instinctively grabbed for the tottering tray with his bad hand and nearly cried out at the agony that assaulted him. Thankfully, he made it the rest of the way to Arthur’s chambers without any major incident and without running into anyone who might look closely enough to notice the bruises on his face.

He was confronted with his next problem when he arrived outside of Arthur’s door and came to the frustrating realization that he couldn’t open it. If he set the tray on the ground, he’d never be able to pick it up one-handed, either. So he did the only thing he could do – something he rarely ever did as far as Arthur was concerned – and knocked with his foot. “Dinner!” he called out in as cheery of a voice as he could muster.

“Just bring it in!” Arthur’s voice called back, slightly muffled through the door.

Not willing to admit that he couldn’t open the door himself, Merlin kicked out at it again, and after a short silence, Arthur’s irritated footsteps could be heard approaching. When the king swung the door open, his eyes burned like embers.

“You’ve really reached a new level of uselessness today, haven’t you, Merlin? By the gods, I’ve never seen someone so incompetent in my life. Put it on the table and get to work.” He stomped back to his desk, where he appeared to be drafting a speech of some kind.

Despite himself, and despite understanding what the king was going through, Merlin found that Arthur’s harsh words and harsher tone hurt. He quelled his automatic instinct to snap back at the royal, took a deep, calming breath, and all but tiptoed the rest of the way to the table. He fumbled in his attempt to set the tray down with only one hand – the bowl of stew tottered and then tipped. Merlin watched with horror as the thick, chunky mess oozed across the surface of the tray, flooding around and soaking into the fruit, bread, and cheese. Somehow, before Arthur even had the chance to react to the spill, Merlin knew what was coming. This was the moment the warlock had been anticipating, even dreading – the breaking point.

Arthur’s mask cracked, the turmoil festering behind it exploding in a flash of uncontrollable, disproportionate rage.

“You idiot!” The normally teasing insult morphed into something vile; it was like Merlin was a disgusting creature Arthur had found stuck to the sole of his shoe. Arthur surged to his feet, advancing on his servant like he was about to attack, and despite himself, Merlin flinched back the tiniest bit. “Why do I trust you to do anything?” the king continued, and Merlin knew where the rage came from, that it wasn’t rage at all, but bottled grief that he had no idea how to deal with. It didn’t make his next word hurt any less though:

“Worthless.”

Merlin took a step back, the venom in his master’s voice taking him off guard.

“I don’t know why I’ve put up with you for this long, I really don’t!” The words were snarled, and the voice who said them didn’t belong to Arthur. “My father is dead, Merlin, and you’ve done nothing but make life more difficult. You’ve been nothing but a burden.”

Arthur’s words stung worse than Merlin’s sliced palm, and cut so much deeper. The burn of impending tears pressed against the back of his eyes, and he held them at bay by pure strength of will. He took two steps closer to the devastated king, the angry husk of a man he, in that moment, no longer knew. “I was giving you the space you needed. I’m sorry if you needed me to talk to you about it, or take your mind off of it.”

“I just needed you to do your damn job!” Arthur all but howled, scooping up the nearest thing to him – a wine goblet. For a terrible moment, Merlin thought that Arthur had well and truly lost control of himself, that he was going to lob the vessel at Merlin’s face from a few strides away. Instead, Arthur spun erratically and threw the goblet with every ounce of strength he possessed in the opposite direction. A shattering of glass as the cup burst through the window and plummeted to the ground below. Merlin didn’t listen for it to land; he just hoped it hadn’t hit anyone unlucky enough to pass underneath at just the wrong time.

Merlin could not spare any time worrying about the fate of the goblet or anyone who might have been in its path. Arthur still faced the window, neck bent, head hanging, shoulders heaving as his breaths escaped in frenzied, barely controlled bursts. Cautiously, Merlin stepped closer and reached out his good hand, still gloved, and touched the king’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

Those two words acted as a catalyst; Merlin didn’t know if it were the timing or the person who had said them, but it didn’t matter, in the end. The ragged breaths turned to sobs, and Arthur’s shoulders trembled with the force of them. And then, like a puppet master had cut his strings, Arthur collapsed, his knees hitting the ornate rug beneath him, and Merlin followed suit, comforting hand still resting, gentle, there if needed, on his king’s shoulder.

“My father is dead,” Arthur repeated, his voice as hollow as he must feel inside. He knelt on the floor and cried harder than Merlin had ever witnessed, mourned violently, smashed his fists against the carpeted stone. Merlin didn’t speak, and knew that he was seeing something that he would never impart to another living soul. It was a private, terrible, beautiful moment, and by the time Arthur’s breath began to even out, tears ran unhindered down Merlin’s face as well. Though he did not – could not – mourn for Uther, he mourned for Arthur, and the father he’d lost.

Eventually, after what seemed like ages, when Merlin’s knees had mostly gone numb, Arthur shifted and sat back, stretching his legs out before him. He moved like a man carrying a heavy weight as he scooted around to face his servant. Merlin saw that the king’s face was tear streaked but dry, his eyes puffy and the whites spider-webbed with red. Merlin followed Arthur’s lead, sitting back and stretching his own aching legs beside his king’s.

Neither spoke for a long time. Merlin couldn’t decide whether he should reach out and touch Arthur again, to continue to offer that little bit of comfort. In the end he didn’t, leaving his hands carefully arranged in his lap, the injured one resting delicately on top, both still gloved and hot and sweaty underneath the fabric. He waited for Arthur to speak.

When the king finally did open his mouth, what came out was not what the servant expected. He’d thought Arthur would demand that Merlin keep his mouth shut and never reveal to anyone what he’d witnessed, or that he would admonish Merlin for something else or even try to regain a bit of normalcy by teasing him about something stupid. Instead, after a brief hesitation, his voice cracked with exhaustion, he ventured, “I’m sorry.”

If Merlin had been standing, he would have stepped back in shock, maybe even fallen over. Arthur rarely apologized for anything, especially to Merlin. And when he did try to offer an apology, it was always shrouded in awkward phrasing and stupid insults and poorly veiled affection. He never just came out and said he was sorry. It just wasn’t the kind of person Arthur was.

The shock must have shown on Merlin’s face, because Arthur heaved a great sigh and looked down at his hands before continuing, “Don’t get used to this kind of thing – you’re nearly always in the wrong, after all. But…” He looked up, blue eyes meeting blue, and fumbled ahead, “You gave me space, and I needed that. And I can see I haven’t been the, well, easiest to deal with these past few days.”

“You’re grieving,” Merlin insisted.

“That doesn’t give me the right to treat you like you are worthless,” Arthur responded bluntly. “Yes, you are mostly useless as a servant, but you are not worthless. You... are a true friend, Merlin.” Merlin’s heart seemed to forget how to beat for a few moments at the admission – Merlin and Arthur were both very much aware that they were friends, as were the knights and nobles who could see it a mile away. But much like Arthur’s apologies, this friendship was mutually unspoken. Normally, there existed no need to acknowledge it directly. Merlin hadn’t realized just how much it would mean to him to hear Arthur admit it aloud.

“Oh, don’t be such a petticoat,” Arthur griped, no heat in his tone – he sounded more worn out than anything. “And if you ever tell anyone that I called you my, well, you know… I will actually throw you in the stocks. For a very long time. And I will personally bring a barrel of rotten produce to chuck at your idiotic face.”

Merlin felt his face split into a grin despite the heavy weight of all that had happened between them. “Tell anyone what?” he asked innocently, and Arthur nodded his approval.

“Make sure you keep it that way.” Pain still roiled in Arthur’s eyes, and it had settled in in the lines around his eyes and in the shape of his mouth, but the mask was gone and he’d released some of what he had been so desperately holding in. He looked like he could use a long, hard nap and a good meal. Merlin could relate.

The king heaved himself to his feet, then leaned down to help Merlin up too In light of all that had just transpired, Merlin didn’t immediately respond, and so Arthur impatiently grabbed his servant’s hand to help him stand whether he was ready or not.

Unfortunately, he grabbed the right hand and pulled – hard.

***

An animal scream erupted from Merlin’s lips, and he collapsed back onto the floor, gasping in lungfuls of air that just weren’t enough, cradling his gloved right hand tightly against his chest, curling over it protectively. For a moment, Arthur stood frozen in shock – but then his mind caught back up and he realized something was very wrong with his servant.

For the second time, Arthur dropped to his knees, this time to kneel beside the hunched over Merlin, hands hovering over the curled form, unsure of where to or even if he should touch. “Merlin, what the hell is going on?” he demanded, a bit frantic.

“Nothing,” Merlin rasped out, his voice garbled with pain. “Just… give me… a minute.”

But now that the king’s mind was clearer than it had been in days, it began putting together connections that he should have seen earlier – dammit! Grieving or not, it should have been obvious that there was something wrong with Merlin’s hands – the gloves, the shady story about the door to the face, the way he’d been approaching every task awkwardly with his left hand. Now Arthur did reach out and gently grip Merlin’s upper right arm. The servant shrank away on instinct.

“Merlin,” Arthur said plainly, and he didn’t have to elaborate. Carefully, shaking with pain, Merlin offered his master his right hand and hissed in agony as Arthur gently tugged the glove off. What he saw made his stomach twist.

Merlin’s hand was stiff, the palm puffy, wrapped in bandages that had soaked through with blood. The moment the glove had been removed, the metallic scent had hit Arthur’s nose and made his stomach curl.

“You didn’t run into a door.” It wasn’t a question.

Amazingly – though Arthur wasn’t surprised in the least – Merlin tried to hold his ground. “It had sharp edges.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “The door had sharp edges?”

Merlin sucked in a sharp breath of pain but didn’t respond.

“Who did this to you?” Arthur asked, trying to keep his anger under control.

Merlin shook his head. “It was an accident.”

“If it were an accident, you wouldn’t have tried to hide it,” Arthur argued.

“You’ve had enough to deal with. I didn’t want you worrying about me.”

“Funny, you’ve never been concerned about that before. And when have I ever given you reason to believe that I worry about you?” Even Arthur could tell that the jab sounded weak and half-hearted in light of the confession he’d just made.

“It’s really no big deal, Arthur,” Merlin insisted, tugging his hand out of the king’s grip. “I should go back and let Gaius take a look at it since it’s started bleeding again. He’ll be furious.”

Arthur’s glare kept Merlin in place. “You didn’t have Gaius look at it? Nor at your face? Why the hell would you hide something like this? Who are you afraid of?” Realization dawned. Merlin wasn’t afraid of anyone. “Who are you protecting?” Merlin remained quiet, but the answer still slammed into Arthur like the bolt from a crossbow.

“Oh,” he said lamely. “It was me, wasn’t it?”

Merlin shook his head furiously. “It was an accident, this morning–”

“Oh gods,” Arthur muttered, playing back the training that morning with a clearer head. “When you fell over–”

“It was an accident,” Merlin repeated firmly. “My arms were growing tired and I let my guard down. I didn’t hold the shield firm, and it hit my head. And then I really did fall. I caught myself, though.”

“On something sharp, I’m guessing?” Though Arthur could hear the flatness in his own voice, guilt raged just beneath the surface. How could he have been so blind, so stupid? And then the way he’d treated the servant after the fact, when he’d been injured and in pain and struggling to do his job with one hand… Arthur’s gut twisted uncomfortably.

“Merlin–” he started.

Impertinent as always, the servant cut him off. “Please don’t apologize again, Arthur, especially for an accident. I don’t think my heart can take the shock two apologies in one day.”

The joke didn’t take away the film of guilt that had developed over Arthur’s heart, but it did make him smile, just a little. Even guilty and emotionally exhausted and mourning, he recognized the white flag for what it was. Merlin didn’t blame him, and had only hidden the injury because he knew that Arthur would blame himself. Even when Arthur had been treating him so poorly, he had been doing all he could to look out for his master, his king … his friend. And that realization made Arthur warmer inside than he cared to admit.

And so he pushed through the guilt, rose to his feet once more and cautiously levered Merlin up beside him, being careful of his hand. “I’m walking you back to Gaius’s,” the king proclaimed.

Merlin shook his head. It was almost cute that he seemed to think he had a choice in the matter. “I can make it on my own,” he said.

“I don’t doubt that you can, only that you will. What were you thinking, Merlin, letting that wound go untreated? You cut your hand open with – what – a flail? How did you stitch it with your good hand?”

Merlin’s silence was telling.

“Merlin! How in the five kingdoms are you supposed to be able to serve your king if you can’t even take care of yourself? By the gods…”

And so he walked a sulky Merlin home after gently wrapping the reopened wound with the sleeve of his own tunic – “Don’t worry, you get to mend it later, Merlin” – and though a heaviness still shrouded his heart, a mingling of pain and grief and guilt and fear for what the future might hold, King Arthur found himself more at peace walking at his servant’s side – his friend’s side – than he had in a while.

It was also quite cathartic to spend the trip lecturing his self-sacrificing idiot about the benefits of taking care of oneself. He stayed and observed Gaius as he clean and stitched the wound, and watched with joy as the the physician forced the horrible-smelling, muddy brown potion down Merlin's throat. Gaius picked up his own lecture seamlessly where Arthur left off, and the old man didn’t stop until Merlin had passed out, weary and annoyed, on the patient’s cot.

“Fool boy,” Gaius grumbled affectionately as he began cleaning up his mess. Then he turned and looked at Arthur. “And how are you holding up, Sire?”

Arthur’s first instinct was to brush off the question with his standard, “I’m fine.” But then he glanced at his sleeping servant, bruised face finally relaxed and devoid of pain, hand swaddled in a veritable cocoon of bandages. He remembered the lecture he’d just directed at the other man, and realized that wounds of any kind were dangerous left unchecked.

“Not great,” he admitted at last, noting the raised eyebrows at his truthful response with a tiny hint of pride. Gaze still on his servant, the king swiped the back of his hand across his cheek and added, “But I will be.”

Arthur wandered leisurely back to his chamber, ate most of his dinner, and slept soundly. It was the first time he had been able to do so since his father’s death.

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writeroutoftime · 5 years ago

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we need you

pairing: merlin x reader (requested by: anon)

summary: you have something to tell merlin, but will you get the chance to?

warnings: little bit of angst, near death experience

words: 1367

a/n: now I’m not sure if this is the direction the anon had in mind when they requested it, but this what came to my mind. it’s a tad angsty, but still sweet, at least I think so. anyway, request are open, so send some in! enjoy the story, stay safe, and have a fabulous day!

oOoOo

With every step closer to Gaius’ chambers – where you knew your husband, Merlin would be – echoes bounced off the castle walls, rattling your nerves. Each step intensified the rapid beating of your heart, and all you could focus on was the smooth material your hand touched as it rested against your stomach. While it was not visible to the naked eye, you could feel your unborn child growing inside you, and the thought made you smile internally.

A child that was the product of yours and Merlin’s love was a blessing, but the timing was what scared you. With Camelot nearly at war, you couldn’t help but worry for the safety of Merlin, because as Arthur’s servant, he was constantly in danger. Of course, having magic helped, but that couldn’t always be there to save him, and the thought of raising this baby without Merlin caused you heartache. Hopefully when he found out, he would realize that his life no longer concerned just him.

The door to Gaius’ chambers felt heavier than usual as you opened the door, the weight of your secret weighing on your shoulders. When you stepped in, you were nearly knocked over by Merlin scurrying around the room, shoving bottles and vials, here and there, into his satchel. A sense of dread washed over you as you watched the scene play out.

“Ah, y/n.” Gaius spoke, being the first to notice you from his seat. “It’s nice to see you.” he continued, slightly louder to pull Merlin’s attention to you. Normally, if you walked into the room, Merlin would be the first to notice and would drop whatever it was he was doing to great you, much to chagrin of Gaius and Arthur.

Merlin finally looked up, but just as quickly turned back.

“What’s going on?” you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper, and all thoughts of why you had originally walked into the room flew out of your mind.

“Arthur’s leaving to go and try negotiate a peace treaty before this turns into a full-scale war.” Merlin said, now looking over a stack of books before grabbing one from the bottom.

The dread you felt only moments before multiplied at the thought of war. “D-do you have to go?” you asked, silently pleading that Arthur could survive without Merlin this one time.

Merlin laughed at that thought. “As if Arthur could survive more than a few hours without me.”

“Well I have something to tell-“you began to say but stopped yourself short. Merlin wasn’t able to stay home with you, so maybe it wasn’t the best idea to tell him you were expecting a child. What if the news distracted him and he wasn’t paying attention if they were ambushed? What if he got hurt because of the joyous, yet nerve-wracking news you shared with him before he left? It would be better to tell him once he returned.

“What do you have to tell me, love?” he asked, doubling checking that he had everything.

There was a beat in which you considered just shouting your news, but you decided against it. “Never mind.” you offered a reassuring smile. “Please be safe.” you pleaded with your husband.

“Always am.” he smirked. He leaned in to give you a goodbye kiss before he left to find Arthur, leaving you there subtly cradling your baby bump and praying for Merlin’s safe return.

oOoOo

A week filled with worry after no news from Merlin passed, but your hope was quickly restored at the bells that signaled the group’s return. The book in your hands was casted aside as you ran towards the entrance to the castle to greet your husband. However, dread set in, as you watch the horses ride in, Merlin draped unconsciously over one.

A sob left your lips as you felt your body give way and slowly sink to the floor as you watched Gwaine and Leon carry Merlin off to Gaius’. Before you could hit the hard ground, Arthur and Gwen caught you, and tried to explain the situation. You barely paid attention as Arthur explained that on the way back, there had been an ambush by a rouge group of citizens from the kingdom who wanted Arthur dead, and Merlin had stepped in the way.

“I’m very sorry, y/n.” Arthur offered, not sure what to say that would ease your pain.

Gwen tried to lead you back to your room, but you protested claiming you needed to be as close to Merlin as possible. The compromise you reached had you outsider Gaius’ door for what felt like hours, waiting to see Merlin.

Unconsciously, you cradled your belly for the majority of the time, whispering quietly to your baby – though you weren’t sure if it was more so for your sake or the baby’s. You couldn’t raise this baby without Merlin, he just had to be alright.

Finally, Gaius opened the door to allow you in, and a shaky step carried you inside and your body nearly ran to be by Merlin’s side. His hair looked disheveled, his skin was paler than ever, and you could see the bandages soaked in blood to try and stop the wound from becoming more serious.

“Oh, Merlin.” you whispered, running your hand through his hair. “What have you done now? Gaius is he going to be alright?” you asked the older man who looked on with pity.

“I’ve done all I could for him, y/n.” he answered honestly. “Now, it is up to Merlin to fight off the infection. Whatever he was hit with was laced with magic. Had it hit someone without magic, they would have died instantly, but Merlin’s magic must be warding off the poison. We can only hope that he pulls through.” Gaius finished solemnly. Merlin had become like a son to him and you a daughter, by extension. He never wished any harm on either of you.

Gaius’ word sent you over the edge and you grasped Merlin’s hands tightly and sobbed into them. After a moment or so, you heard Gaius leave the chamber to give you some privacy, but you remained in the same position. Merlin had always been so strong, and to see him so weak sent you over the edge. This wasn’t the loving, yet goofy man you fell in love with.

“Merlin, please, you can’t leave me. You can’t leave us.” you pleaded with him. “I’m pregnant, Merlin. We’re going to have a child, so you can’t leave me. You better fight whatever this is and come back to us, damn it.” your voice broke as you dissolved in sobs.

Now you wished you would have told him that you were with child. Maybe he wouldn’t have gone, maybe you could have prevented this. All these thoughts ran through your mind until exhaustion washed over you and you feel asleep at Merlin’s side.

When you woke, you felt someone stroking your hair, and your eyes shot open to find out who was there. It was Merlin, awake and looking better than before, and you had to rub your hand down your face to make sure you weren’t dreaming. “You’re awake!” you shouted and through your arms around him.

A groan left your husband’s lips, quickly followed by a chuckle. “I’m back.” he whispered and kissed your head.

Tears of joy now ran down your face as you stared into Merlin’s eyes and kissed him passionately. “I’m pregnant.” you breathed when the two of you pulled away.

“I know.” he admitted and lovingly rested his hand against your stomach. At the quizzical look on your face, he rushed to explain. “I could hear you, when I was unconscious. I was fighting to come back to you, and hearing that we’re going to be parents gave me the strength to pull through.” he said, his own eyes slightly misty.

A weight felt as though it had been lifted off your body. Merlin was alive and well and would be for a long time. “I love you, Merlin.”

“I love you too, y/n and our baby. I promise I will always be there for the two of you.” he vowed as you curled into his chest.

#bbc merlin x reader #bbc merlin imagine #merlin x reader #merlin imagine

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cbk1000 · 3 years ago

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Preview for the next chapter of my Merlin fic.

All this Elaine had ruined a bit for him. She had caught them in one of the halls, dressed for gadding about in the snow, Merlin wearing Arthur’s gloves, a scarf which Gwen had given him, a cloak which infuriatingly was not Arthur’s (and might have even been Gwaine’s), whilst no one whatsoever cared that Arthur was going out into that deadly land with only a cloak and a few woolen layers.

“No one said you had to be a stupid twit with frail masculinity who can’t bear to think he might be just as susceptible to cold as ordinary mortals,” Morgana had said without any sympathy at all, fixing his collar; and Elaine had taken up with Merlin a flawless exchange of gossip and ideas into which no pause or breath dared to introduce itself. Somehow Merlin and Elaine both appeared to be getting in their say; and so as not to do something insane such as to stop talking, they kept it up all the way into town, scaring the birds, and ruining that echoic quality of exquisite alienation which a good snow uses to tell the human animal it is at peace.

So it might be more accurate to say that Merlin, Elaine and Arthur struggled into town, in that order, with no sense of bitterness in the last. They had accumulated an unnerving quantity of the world, and knocked it off their boots on the stoop of the apothecary, where Arthur tried not to show that he was desperate to be in where there was a fire. Merlin and Elaine, preceding him, went on chattering at the same pace they had kept up all through the tiring walk, breathing as if they had run, but bravely refusing to succumb to those silly, unnecessary conversational lulls of the sane. Arthur did not know how any human language could bear the strain of it. Sooner or later they must come to the end of any they knew, and then possibly there would be a new one born, with a more supportive vocabulary.

“Hello!” Merlin called out cheerfully as they entered; Arthur went casually over to the hearth, to warm his hands. Merlin, scarcely looking at him, took off the gloves, and tossed them to him, as if Arthur needed them. He tucked them into his belt.

“I’ll need some powdered betony, and have you got any plantain? Oh, and agrimony root. And chamomile,” Merlin reeled off, whilst Elaine stood at his elbow asking, “What’s that for? And that?” and Arthur rubbed his hands, which were only middling cold, and certainly not numb, and certainly not in need of some grotty old gloves which he had given to Merlin in the first place to prevent anyone else from giving him theirs, and in the second because Merlin’s was the delicate and girlish constitution which required them.

“Heliotrope if you’ve got it, figwort, vervain, put on the gloves, you git, burdock, and also, do you have any horehound? And if you’ve got any recommendations for sleeping draughts, I’d love to hear them.”

Arthur bristled, and did not put on the gloves.

They were in the apothecary until he died; and then finally it was time for his skeleton to go clacking out into the light of day, and have the dust blown off it. There were only two of them making for the door, he realised upon reaching it; Elaine was dithering about by the counter, looking as if she were about to be awkward about something. “Um,” she said. “Um. I have...I have a...woman problem I need to ask about.”

“Oh, right,” Merlin replied, grabbing his elbow. “Sure. We’ll just wait outside, yeah?”

“Why couldn’t she have just asked you about her woman problem?” Arthur groused, pulling up the hood of his cloak. “We’ll be out here ages.”

“Because, you insensitive knob, I’m a man. She doesn’t want to go telling me what’s happening with her genitals. Most men don’t want to tell me what’s happening with their genitals.”

“But she’ll tell some random stranger? She doesn’t know if they have any idea what they’re doing. What if they poison her?”

“They’d be out of business pretty quick if they were in the habit of accidentally poisoning their customers.” Merlin leaned in, dropping his voice. “Look, I’m sorry. I know you wanted to be alone with me.”

“I did not!” Arthur protested, feeling that he had been caught red-handed in the terrible act of sentimentality.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Yes you did. Look, when she’s done, I’ll just go back, mix up a few things in the workroom, and then you can have me for the rest of the day.”

Arthur side eyed him. “Really?”

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to. I mean, you’re a busy man; all that strategising with Morgana--I’m sure you have loads of more important things to do.”

“I do,” Arthur said, straightening the gloves where they were hanging from his belt. “But I suppose, if you’re truly desperate to see me, I could move round a few things.”

Merlin pushed him off the stoop, and into the snow.

#merlin #fic #writing #merthur

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supercalvin · 5 years ago

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Hi! Idk if you're still taking prompts but if you are then can you do one where Arthur and Merlin hug after being separated during like a battle or something? And there's like an outsider POV from like idk one of the knights? I think it would be cute and your writing is amazing!!!! 💕 ❤️ 💕

Oops. A little long…oh well. It’s because I live for Outsider POV.

Prompts + Ficlets

***

When Lucan arrived in Camelot for the knight trials, he half imagined he would be asked to present his family crest or be turned away. He had heard rumors that Camelot accepted commoners and had set out despite all the boys back home telling him it was a fool’s errand. ‘Even if King Arthur did accept commoners,’ they said, ‘You’re not even good with a sword.’ But when Lucan arrived at the citadel gates, he was directed to a large training field.

“Sir Lancelot will train you with the rest of the commoners. Your trial will happen tomorrow. Good luck.”

Lucan was intimidated to say the least. Once he realized Sir Lancelot was of common birth, he relaxed a little, but then he saw him fight and he was immediately nervous again.

“You’ll do fine, Lucan.” Lancelot said with an encouraging smile. “Arthur is looking for skill, but there’s more to being a knight than just fighting.”

When Lancelot said these words, Lucan had thought he meant the King of Camelot in a general sense. He figured the First Knight would be conducting the trials. He hadn’t realized Lancelot meant…

The King of Camelot looked different than he imagined. He was relaxed as he stepped onto the field. He was young, blond hair bright in the sunlight as he shed his cape and drew his sword.

“You will have five attempts to disarm me,” The King said without preamble, “You may choose any weapon. You may use any tricks at your disposal. Magic aside, of course. If you wanted to talk with my Court Sorcerer, I’m afraid that’s a different kind of trial, lads.”

A long-haired knight snickered, “Did Merlin run off again?”

The King rolled his eyes, “He left to consult with the Druids. Not that he felt the need to inform his King of this before this morning.”

Then he turned back to the young boys in front of him, all matters of court forgotten. He raised his sword and gestured to the first boy to step up.

To this day Lucan wasn’t sure why the King accepted him. Lucan’s first weapon of choice had been a sword, which the King almost immediately knocked from his hands. The boys back home hadn’t been lying when they said he wasn’t good with a sword. Instead of picking it up again, Lucan, in his desperation, choose another weapon. Five times the King disarmed him and five times Lucan switched weapons. Lucan was certain he would have to go home with his tail between his legs. Instead, after the King had knocked the quarterstaff from Lucan’s hand, the King had held out his hand and said, “Good. Get some water and join the rest.”

Lucan had been knighted a year later. There was an uphill battle in understanding all the intricacies of court, but luckily he wasn’t the only commoner-turned-knight.

One of the most interesting characters Lucan encountered was the Court Sorcerer. On his first day, he had imagined Court Sorcerer to be an elderly man who had been through the purge and reemerged to spread his wisdom. What he hadn’t imagined was Merlin.

Apparently Merlin had been the King’s servant before he had been promoted to Court Sorcerer. If Lucan thought King Arthur’s stance on knighting commoners was an anomaly, than Merlin’s presence disproved that. He was very obviously a commoner. He refused to wear any noble attire and often spoke to everyone as his equal. Lucan admired him, but he winced every time he spoke freely to the King. Surely there was a limit? The King had yelled at Merlin on more than one occasion, but it never seemed to bother Merlin much. Lucan figured it must be left over from when he was Arthur’s servant.

Less than a year after Lucan’s knighthood, King Odin invaded Camelot’s southern border. Lucan had never been to war, but he learned quickly. King Arthur tried to make peace with Odin, but so far Odin hadn’t stopped encroaching on Camelot’s southern villages. The battles weren’t far from where Lucan had grown up, and every time he defended a village, seeing the mothers and children looking to him to protect them, he felt that he had chosen the right path.

Although Lucan had lived in Camelot for over a year, he still had never seen much of the Court Sorcerer’s magic. Part of Lucan wondered if that was on purpose or if he was still unused to practicing in public. Either way, the battles against Odin changed that. To say that Lucan was in awe of Merlin’s power would be an understatement. This man who causally teased Camelot’s knights, who helped Lucan when he sprained his ankle last spring, and was one of the least intimidating men Lucan had ever met, was also one of the most powerful men Lucan on the battlefield. He controlled the wind and lightening with a wave of his hand. One spell caused a rockslide that blocked half of Odin’s army before the battle had even begun. Truly, it should not have been a surprise that Odin’s next target wasn’t a village at all.

Lucan had been on the only knights to see it happen.

“Get back!” Merlin shouted, his magic rippling out of him like a tidal wave of power, pushing back Camelot’s knights as they tried to stop Odin’s men from surrounding Merlin.

Lucan’s quarterstaff connected with a head and he reached out for Merlin, but it was too late. Another knight had pressed the Court Sorcerer to the ground, his arms entangled in cold iron chains, effectively blocking his magic. The next thing Lucan knew, there was a burst of pain at the back of his skull and nothing. Then he woke in Gaius’ tent.

After the wound on his head had been bandaged, he had been sent to the King’s tent to report what he had seen. The King was very quiet throughout Lucan’s report, his eyes never leaving the battlefield map in front of him. When Lucan finished the King suddenly stood and turned away.

“Sire,” Sir Leon stepped forward, about to rest a hand on the King’s shoulder, but the King raised his hand, stopping his First Knight.

“You are dismissed, Lucan.”

Lucan was surprised to hear that the King’s voice was strangled, but when he turned around, his face was perfectly blank. Lucan bowed and stepped out of the tent.

A month passed. Although Camelot could hold her own, it was obvious that Merlin had been a great advantage. It was also obvious that the King was affected by this loss, the circles under his eyes growing darker and his words becoming shorter with each day. Lucan had known that the King and Merlin were close, but he hadn’t realized that the King would be so affected by the loss of his former servant.

One night, Lucan was called into the King’s tent. He barely had bowed when the King asked, “You know these foothills well?”

Lucan was surprised, but answered quickly, “Yes, sire. I grew up not far from here.”

“Good. I need you with us.”

“Sire?”

“Gwaine, Lancelot, and I are we need a guide in these hills, if you are willing.”

“You’re getting Merlin back,” Lucan said, before he realized he’d spoke out loud.

The King nodded, “Are you willing?”

Lucan nodded, “Of course, sire.”

When the moon was fully in the sky, the four knights set out. Lucan directed them as best he could. There was an old cave system in the mountains where he figured Odin had created a make-shift prison for Merlin. The caves were dark and damp, but that only made it easier to slip inside and attack when Odin’s men were unprepared. There were about a dozen men against the four of them, but they had the element of surprise. Soon enough, they were the only ones standing.

The King sheathed his sword and picked up a torch. While the front of the cave had been cluttered with a few fires and supplies, the back of the cave was dark and sparse. At the very end of the cave, there was a wall of iron bars, effectively creating a cell. Merlin was still wrapped in the cold iron chains Lucan had seen that day over a month ago, which made Lucan’s stomach twist to think Merlin had been in that position for over a month. As they moved closer, Merlin flinched at the torch light, his eyes blinking rapidly at the light. His clothes were covered in grim, blood stained his tunic, and his face looked gaunt. He wasn’t wearing a gag but there were cuts on his cheek that suggested this hadn’t always the case.

The King unlocked the cell with keys he had taken from one of the guards and wrenched open the door, practically falling into the cell in his haste. His hand immediately went to the chains, looking for a lock.

“You can’t,” Merlin’s voice was rough. From disuse or screaming, it was hard to tell. Lucan wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “They’ve been enchanted.”

Arthur growled, slamming his fist against the cave wall. After a moment, the King huffed, leaving the chains where they were. He pulled a water skin from his belt and held it while Merlin drank.

After Merlin had drunk his fill, the King’s hand came to rest on Merlin’s face, his thumb running over the gash where a gag had obviously been. “I swear I will run him through myself.”

Merlin angled his body as best he could with the chains around him, so that his head was near the King’s. “No. You need to make a treaty with him.”

“He did this to you,” The King’s voice was full of venom. “I can’t forgive that.”

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was soft, almost not there. “It’s alright. I’m alright.”

Lucan was surprised to see the King’s body shudder, his head bent down and his hand clutching Merlin’s tunic. “I thought…”

Merlin hushed him, “You can’t rid of me that easily.”

Before Lucan realized what was happening, the King had cupped Merlin’s face and kissed him. It wasn’t a kiss of relief, one with little thought or care. It was a steady kiss, one that had obviously been done many times before. The King pulled away, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s. Their voices were quiet, but the cave walls made their voices echo. Lucan clearly heard the King’s softly spoken declaration of love.

To say that Lucan was surprised by the display of affection would be an understatement. He had known the King and Merlin had been friends for over a decade. He had known they were close. But he hadn’t realized… except it did make sense. Merlin was never far from the King’s side. They often were together, at court, at dinner, at almost every occasion. It would also explain Merlin’s easiness with the King.

Lancelot stepped forward, “Sire, we need to leave before Odin realizes what we’ve done.”

The King nodded, “Get the horses. Merlin is riding with me.”

They rode back to Camelot’s camp quickly, but the sun was already rising by the time they made it to Gaius’ tent. With careful hands, Arthur helped Merlin down from Llamrei’s saddle, holding him in his arms and refusing Lancelot’s help.

“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was obviously tired but there was a lilt of laughter to it.

“Shut up, Merlin.” The King grumbled, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again. You are obviously not capable of taking care of yourself.”

“Says the man who needed a servant to dress him for ten years,” Merlin teased.

Suddenly a lot of things about Merlin and the King’s conversations made sense to Lucan.

***

Prompts + Ficlets

#merlin #merthur #merlin fic #merthur fic #ficlets #just-the-daydreamer

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coinofstone · 4 years ago

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5x12 The Diamond of the Day pt 1

Final two episodes! Big finale! Why am I making myself cry in the middle of the afternoon! Both eps in this post.

I do love that they made Arthur a sore loser

Enter treacherous white woman #2. Srsly it was lazy writing when they did it for Mordred, it's worse now with Gwaine.

I do love the actual Round Table war room discussion but a) why isn't Merlin seated at the round table and b) why does Leon have so much goddamn faith in Camelot's walls? Like??? You literally said the same thing last year and yet Camelot *did* fall when Agravaine brought an army through the tunnels!

Poor Aithusa. Kid's had a rough life.

I do love Arthur responding to Merlin presenting him with all his supplies ready - which he prepared without his magic mind you - with suspicion 😂

But then he calls Merlin a coward and it's sad

Katie has such a great voice. That entire thing in the cave from her taunting to her laughter to the spell, it just just beautifully played.

Whole ass battle to prepare for and Arthur is just walking around moping cuz Merlin isn't there

So, Merlin's father-vision telling him he's magic itself and he just needs to believe in himself to get his magic going again, does this mean he *didn't* need to go to the cave to get it back? Cuz it seems like he needed to recharge in the cave itself, his injuries were healed when he woke up. That seems like magic cave stuff to me.

Also that "always have been and always will be" - I'm taking to mean 'always have been' in the sense that since he's 'magic itself' even before he was born, his magic existed in other, intangible forms, like we are all stardust etc. But now that he is, he will always be, aka he will not die.

Arthur waking up with his wife in his arms and Merlin's name on his lips, jumping out of bed to act on dream-info.

Balinor telling Merlin to trust in what will be.... like bitch that is literally not how this ends.

5x13 The Diamond of the day pt 2

You know that gif of the cat knocking everything off the table? That's literally Merlin shooting lightning at everyone from his perch on the ridge.

I have a lot of snarky things to say about Merlin coming out of the cave in full Dragoon gear and riding a horse instead of teleporting like the other witches but I'ma keep that to myself.

Mordred is a bitch and Aithusa has terrible aim. At least Aithusa's loyalty to Morgana makes sense.

Arthur said oh shit I'm magic - oh wait no it's that old man again

He also straight up "No! Bad dragon!"-ed Aithusa

Y'know, for all I've watched this episode and screamed about Arthur's death, I don't think I've ever focused on the exact moment he gets stabbed before.

Mordred catches him from behind and he meets it, no fault there. But as soon as he realizes his assailant is the knight who turned on him and joined Morgana, what does he do? HE LOWERS HIS FUCKING SWORD

He leaves himself wide fucking open and vulnerable and Mordred seizes the opportunity. I understand wanting the moment of recognition for Arthur, but on what planet is a trained warrior going to drop his sword mid-attack because he recognizes his attacker as a dude who only just recently decided to forsake him? It's soooooo dumb

There was a whole sequence a few episodes back where Mordred and Arthur are sparring, the point of it was to show that Mordred has become a skilled swordsman. So what exactly was the point in having Mordred run Arthur through as soon as Arthur idiotically lets his guard down? This should've been a meticulously choreographed sword fight, with Mordred getting the upper hand and sticking Arthur properly. Not this nonsense. Look at Arthur's FACE! Oh, Mordred... 👉👈 do you maybe wanna be friends again- STAB ... guess not

Uther's been rolling in his grave but he's taking an extra tumble watching Arthur forget all his skills and training in that moment.

I do appreciate Arthur getting Mordred back though. Like that moment of merciless anger followed by the hurt and regret playing on Arthur's face, warring with surety and responsibility. It was good.

I've rewatched the big confession scene about 16 times just now.

I don't quite understand why Merlin took Arthur to the woods to begin with. Instead of bringing him to the med tent in the battlefield or back to Camelot. What was the reason?

Merlin saying it feels strange (to use magic freely in front of Arthur) and him just going 'yeah' completely deadpan makes me laugh every time.

I really feel like Arthur's head should be elevated at a further incline if he's going to be fed.

Gaius refusing to outright expose Merlin as the sorcerer but nonetheless letting Gwen figure it out on her own warms my heart.

My God Arthur is sitting there dying, feeling betrayed about his best friend 'lying' to him, and still he can't stop himself from looking at Merlin's mouth.

Percival summoned MUSCLE POWER

Hey um random but why does Gwaine even know where Merlin and Arthur are headed? Why would Gaius tell him?

Arthur looks at Merlin so lovingly after he's killed Morgana 😭😭

And now he's literally grabbing at the man's hand 😭 "just hold me, please"

That's gotta be the gayest death scene in television history. If you can watch that without thinking Arthur puts his hand on the back of Merlin's head because some part of him wants to bring him down for a kiss, or that "just hold me, please" is in any way shape or form a 'bros' thing, and certainly not at all an intentional mirror/callback to Isolde dying in Tristan's arms, then I'm afraid you are what we professionals refer to as a dumb-as-nails fucknugget, more commonly phrased as 'willfully ignorant'.

"All that you have dreamt of building has come to pass" yeah except for the whole, y'know, magic still being illegal thing.

I've said this before, but, while I'm sure there was a determined intention to have Arthur die in his armor, probably in some kind of attempt to make sure the audience knows he's died a warrior's death, I *really* think it was kinda stupid that Merlin never removed it, despite Arthur being weak, despite the fact that there was something like five days between him getting stabbed and him actually dying, despite that for the duration of that time they were traveling or hiding out. Merlin managed to produce a cloak to put on Arthur, why did he need the full armor on that whole time? Like even if they left the chainmail on, those plates on his shoulder were just getting in the way, and it looked quite uncomfortable.

Also not for nothing but Lancelot got like, every flower in the forest surrounding lush verdant greens in his death boat, Arthur gets a bunch of sticks.

It suddenly occurs to me, watching this now, that the reason Leon/Percival is such a common side pairing in Merthur fics, is because these two motherfuckers are the only original Knights of the Round Table to survive the series. 🤦‍♀️ I dunno how I failed to notice that before now. My stupidity amazes me.

I'm *really* glad they decided to do this scene with Gwen wearing the Pendragon red dress instead of the black mourning dress. Yes she looks fabulous in it but it's more the symbolism than the 'reality' - with Gwen wearing her house's colors it represents a continuation rather than a finality. Camelot will go on, Gwen will undoubtedly end the war on magic and with Morgana dead (and frankly, I think by now she already brought about the death of all the angry incel type rulers in Albion) there stands to reason her reign will begin with a period of peace, possibly longer than Arthur's. We kind of have to assume that the 'time the poets speak of' is, inevitably, Gwen's reign - which only came about through Arthur's death. It's a little bit toooo subtle in my opinion, but at the same time, I understand the need for the focus on Merlin and Arthur - after all, this show was their journey - not leaving much time to focus on Gwen and Camelot in the aftermath of Arthur's death.

I will just say, the first time I watched this that fucking truck scared the ever living shit out of me. I also just immediately, viscerally hated that scene and declared it invalid - but I think it was because the truck made me jump out of my skin. It has since grown on me, particularly once I started reading 'Arthur Returns' fic.

Everything beyond this point is post-series spec and headcanon, so if that's not your jam you can exit safe in the knowledge that as usual, if there's anything worth commenting on in the S5 extras, I will create a separate post!

For those interested, my go-to post-series fic is We Begin Again by katherynefromphilly I fully headcanon this series as the continuation of the series.

I have a lot of thoughts about Gwen and Merlin post-Camlann.

For one, poor fucking Gwen. She's lost her father, her brother, and her husband, all by what, age 30? That's rough. And who knows what happened to her mom, that was pre-series and I don't think it was ever mentioned.

Merlin, dear god poor Merlin. First of all, I just wanna say straight off that my instinctive headcanon about Merlin was that he never returned to Camelot. I couldn't really say why exactly. I just don't think he could stand being there after Arthur's death. But practically speaking, Merlin's still got Aithusa to deal with, that dragon needs some godsdamned house training asap. He's still the last Dragonlord, it's reasonable to assume he'd immediately take that on considering Aithusa is partially responsible for Arthur's death (the sword Mordred killed Arthur with, only succeeded in killing Arthur because it had been forged in Aithusa's fire-breath) so he's either going to attempt to train the bad behaviors out of Aithusa, or...well...

The only thing is, I do not believe Merlin would abandon Gwen, or Gaius. So my hc is inherently flawed. I do think Merlin probably spend a couple months with his mum, and I do think he ultimately settled near lake Avalon waiting for Arthur's return.

But I do wonder, what must their relationship have been like? Gwen, surely, would've sought his guidance in establishing laws governing the use of magic. And surely, peace cannot last indefinitely, so Merlin absolutely would've defended Camelot and protected Gwen. There's just no way he could've completely turned his back on them, but I doubt he could bear living in Camelot. And Gwen is both strong and practical enough to get on without him there 24/7, even though I'm sure she'd miss him.

I also think she would've found love again. Whether with Leon, as many people hc, or someone else not in the series.

ANYWAY.

Thanks to everyone who came on this journey with me. I will post comments on the extras if I have anything worth saying - and I think I'll do a master post linking all these episode posts after I clean them up once I get time to sit at a computer and do so. Until then! 💙💚

(Gif source) (h/t @shut-up-merlin)

#bbc merlin #bbc merlin spoilers #merlin #merlin spoilers #merthur #onceandfuturerewatch #5x12 #5x13 #5x12 the diamond of the day pt 1 #5x13 the diamond of the day pt 2 #bbc merlin 5x12 #bbc merlin 5x13 #merlin 5x12 #merlin 5x13 #the diamond of the day #the diamond of the day pt1 #the diamond of the day pt2 #for the love of Camelot

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mimiswitchywrites · 4 years ago

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Not A Burden: Chapter 12

TW: SH references, S*x**l a****lt near the beginning

Period typical h***ph**ia and internalised, alcohol mentions?

Master list or read on AO3

5.8k words (I'm so sorry, it wasn't meant to be this long)

If you want to be tagged for updates, message me or comment!

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

The sun was beginning to fall behind the tree line, and she still hadn’t found the tavern, electing to ask a passing guard. He looked her up and down for a minute, before pointing down the path and saying to take a right at the cart with the cabbages.

She arrived, mind still looping. The tavern was humming with chatter inside – hopefully good chatter – and the street glowed from the light of the candles. It was quite beautiful, she thought.

She stepped forward to open the door, hopped back as a large man stormed out - scowling - and then dashed inside before the door slammed shut again.

There was a long work top spanning half the room, with two men and a grinning maiden behind serving out tankards. Tables lined the walls with long benches, all covered with various states of intoxicated patrons.

Miriam approached the bar, eyes locked on a greenish tile behind the maiden – not wanting to interact with any of the drunk men brawling on the table closest to her. She hopped on one of the stools, feet dangling. She smiled at the lady as she came over to serve her, head darting around the room at a loud crash behind her. “Hey there, love, what can I do you for?” The woman – slightly taller than Miriam – asked with a sympathetic tone. Her eyes were soft, sensing Miriam’s discomfort at the chaotic crowd.

“A tankard of your strongest stuff, please.”

The maiden nodded in response, finding a mug, and wiping the inside with the apron tied around her waist. She dropped the mug into a bucket of liquid and dried the edges, placing it in front of Miriam with another curt bow of the head.

Miriam hummed her thanks, hands gripping the tankard. The liquid was brown and smelt putrid, but she smiled at her reflection on the surface. It tasted vile, she noted with a grimace, but, as the warmth spread through her body, she knew it would do the trick.

She had her head tipped back, fishing for the last drops of the ale when he sat next to her. He was a big, burly man, with the bottom of his hairy stomach peering out from under his sained shirt. He smelt terrible – Miriam could practically taste his aroma, even with her drink so close to her nose – but he didn’t seem to care. He lent forward in his seat, elbows on knees, barely a hands length from Miriam. She placed her empty tankard on the bar in front of her and turned to him. He smiled, teeth crooked and blackened. She could see a string of meat stuck in between his front two.

“’ello bird.” He sneered – smiled? At her, hand landing on her thigh.

She shuffled sideways as much as she could, face concealing her immense discomfort.

“Good evening, sir.”

“I ain’t no ‘sir’.” He stood, arms coming to either side of her – trapping her in her seat. “But,” a grimy finger came up to her cheek, “I could preten’ to be, if tha’s what you’re after?”

She lent as far back into the bar as she could, arms pulling around her chest in a feeble attempt at protection.

A hand – a clean one, this time – landed on the fat man’s shoulder. He was pulled round to face the newcomer, shoulders squaring in preparation.

“Hands off the lass.” Miriam recognised the gravely voice, struggling to place it. Her eyes were too blurred with tears to put together his face.

“Or what? You paid for her already?” Miriam hated the way her skin crawled as his hand found the inside of her thigh. With a deep breath – shaking – she pushed it away and slid off the stool.

He swung round, face ablaze.

The new man grabbed his forearm before he could touch her again and pinned it behind his back. He pushed the man against the worktop – breath knocked out of him. “Or I’ll report you to the King. Hand’s off, by order of Sir Gwaine: Knight of Camelot.”

Miriam’s eye’s cleared long enough to see the vile mans face drop, blood draining. Sir Gwaine let him go and watched as he backed out of the Tavern, fear struck. Gwaine tossed a coin onto the bar, waving one of the male servers down, “Two ales please, Henry.”

The server – Henry – nodded, face drawn in concern for the knight that was swaying slightly. He placed the drinks down in front of them and turned to a patron calling him from the other end of the bar.

Gwaine took his tankard, downing half of it in one gulp before looking at Miriam. She was shaking, eyes glossy, but analysing him. “Gwaine. I was with Merlin when we found you.” Her mouth dropped, eyes widening in realisation. She let out a soft “oh” in acknowledgment.

With hesitation, she lifted herself back onto the stool and sat forward again. She took a sip of the ale, made a bitter face, and took another.

“Are you alright? Would you like me to walk you home?” He was facing her again, face shrouded in empathy with a slight haze from the drinking. She shook her head, nodding to her tankard.

“I just need to drink, preferably without anymore creeps interrupting.” He barked a laugh at that, throwing his drink back again, and she felt her face warm. “So, Sir Gwaine: Knight of Camelot,” he rolled his eyes, chuckling, “may I ask what brings you here tonight.”

“Aye, you can, but whether or not I’ll answer is something entirely different,” He stood, reaching out a hand to her, “but first, would you care to dance?” There was a group of men and two women at the back of the tavern creating music. They were singing, one man had a crumhorn, another a lute, and the last two were tapping on the wood of the chairs beneath them. The women’s voices carried across the whole room in beautiful harmony. They danced together, skirts billowing around them, and, one by one, others from the crowd joined in. Men and women, sons and daughters, strangers, all took each other’s arms and span and laughed and sang together. Smile working its way onto her face, Miriam nodded, taking Gwaine’s extended hand.

She didn’t consider herself much of a dancer – never really having the opportunity to learn – but here, dancing with this man she hardly knew, she felt right. They stumbled and fell against each other, stopping their spins every so often as they got too dizzy, and they laughed. Oh, how they laughed. Years of sadness lifted from both their faces, leaving them youthful once again.

By the time they stopped – music slowing down too much for their liking – they were red faced and the world continued spinning without them. They stumbled over to one of the cushioned seats at the side of the room – a large table in front of it – and sprawled onto it, in hysterics. Their drinks (fresh ones they had picked up from Henry before wading through the room) spilled onto the table slightly, prompting another burst of laughter.

After a few gasped attempts at calming down, they shuffled so they were sat up, leaning against each other for support. Gwaine’s hair fell across his face, stuck to the sweat on his forehead and neck. Miriam’s was still tied from work but falling from its leather string in segments.

“You know,” Miriam’s words were more slurred than she had expected; Gwaine snorted at her shocked expression which resulted in him receiving a gentle slap on the shoulder, “When we first met, I dreamt about you.”

His brows shot up, mind too fuzzy to decide between making a sexual remark and asking for more info and so he just sat, expressions rotating over his face until she continued. “Your hair, specifically.” She leant forward, peeling it from his face and running her hands through the tangles. He turned away from her to give her easier access. “I dreamt I was plaiting daisies into it. You have beautiful hair, Sir Gwaine.”

He turned his head to talk to her, “You know, you don’t actually have to call me Sir each time. ‘Gwaine’ is okay.”

Her mouth dropped open at this revelation; he laughed again and turned back to the front.

“Do you frequently dream of plaiting strangers’ hair?” He was genuinely curious but chuckled as he asked.

She shook her head, realised he couldn’t see, and then replied, “No, not often. But you do have very nice hair.” She nodded to herself and took a deep swig of her drink, spluttering slightly at the taste. Gwaine copied, only barely grimacing.

Gwaine enjoyed the feel of the girl’s fingers running through his hair. They sat like that for another twenty minutes at least – exchanging odd thoughts every so often but generally just enjoying the others company. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing, head too tingly to place where each strand of hair was going, but it was relaxing, and he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He finished his drink, waving Henry over for another, and went back to sipping on the ale. The Rising Sun was by far the best Inn in Camelot, but they had truly vile alcohol. It did the job though, and that was all the Knight was after. Until Miriam came along, anyhow.

She was really quite lovely, he had noticed. He knew she was something special when they had found her – the way she bantered, even when half alive, was enough to warm even his painfully cold heart – but he hadn’t expected to enjoy her company quite so much. He wasn’t attracted to her but she was kind and funny and he could see so much of himself in her and, for some reason, that made him care for her. Granted, they had only been speaking for half an hour now (two hours? Time was a funny thing) and they had both knocked a few back, but he was sure that, if she wanted, they could maintain a friendship. For Gwaine, the man that only had Merlin as a friend for years and none before that, this was quite the realisation.

He sniffled, taking another swig and blaming the lump in his throat on the brown liquid this establishment classed as a ‘drink’.

“There,” she patted his head, “you’re all done.” She spun him round – his eyes widening as he tried to save his tankard from spilling – and she checked out her handy work from the front. Her lips parted in, what was it, awe? “Pretty…” she muttered to herself. He felt his cheeks flush, already red from the drinking, and he giggled (though he would deny it if anyone asked).

She shook her head, eyes closing tightly and then opening again, “Not that you weren’t pretty before, that is. You have a very nice,” she gestured to his face and he bit his knuckle to prevent himself from bursting out in a laugh, “face?” She tilted her head to the side, going over what she said with confusion.

“Aye, well thank you for that lass.” He nodded to her, lifting his tankard and waiting for her to do the same, “To pretty faces!” He toasted. Their drinks sloshed into each other and they tipped them back, wiping mouths on the backs of hands.

They sat in silence for some time, watching the crowd in front of them. There was a particularly beautiful maiden in a red dress that was strutting across the room to a lean man with black hair and a rugged beard. She had a stern look on her face and walked with such vigour that not even the king would have been able to stop her. Gwaine wondered what the man had done, and Miriam just stared at her, warmth pooling at the bottom of her stomach.

The woman stopped in front of the man who had terror in his eyes that Gwaine could see from the other side of the room and slapped him. The sound rang out, silencing the crowd for a second. Gwaine turned to Miriam next to him, hearing her gasp and, curiously, her cheeks stain red. He smiled at that, potential reasons circling his mind.

The crowd ended up blocking the couple from Gwaine and Miriam’s view (much to both their dismay) and their attention returned to the other. Bringing a hand up to her mouth, Miriam stifled a yawn, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

“You’re tired.” She shook her head but her heavy eye’s betrayed her, “I should get you back to your room. It would be improper to keep you out so long, or something.” He wasn’t entirely sure if it did count as improper or if he would usually care, but he had no desire to have Lancelot, Merlin and Arthur on his back for keeping the new girl out for so long. He was sure they would spin some tale about him sleeping with her (not that he could dispute it, given his reputation) and Lancelot had looked hurt enough these last few days that he was sure the noble knight would snap. It would not be a pretty sight.

Something best avoided, he supposed.

“Yeah, you are, come on now lass, best us getting going before some twat starts a fight anyhow.” She snorted at this and resigned, standing up. The pair shuffled their way out from behind the table and headed out with a quick wave to Henry before the ducked through the door.

They walked through the lower town slowly, Miriam leaning against him for support and him doing his best not to sway too much. The inn became a distant echo, leaving them in their own little world. They were basked in the soft glow of dying candles and moonlight.

“What’s wrong with you?” She stopped, thinking over her phrasing before adding: “Merlin say’s you’ve been off since you found me in the woods. I think he’s worried.”

Gwaine clenched his jaw, forearms tingling. He took a deep breath before tacking on his jovial persona. “Nothing’s wrong, he’s just an old fart that doesn’t understand the point of a fun night down the Inn.”

She stayed in her spot - even as he took a few more steps towards the inner city - and watched him. She saw her own mannerisms in the way he moved. The clenched fists and jaw, the way he kept his wrists close to his body and his back and shoulders were tensed. “You’re lying.” She sang, feeling the effects of her drink.

His eye’s bulged at her bluntness but a part of him respected her for it. He was tired of the others tiptoeing around him and whatever they assumed was wrong, it was refreshing to have someone get to the point, even if it were a point he didn’t like.

He sighed, calculating the amount of information he could give away without exposing himself or how weak he truly was. He turned back to face her. “Not entirely, Merlin really is an old fart that doesn’t understand the joy one can have with a bucket of ale and a good brawl.” She squinted at him, doing her best to show how little she believed his façade.

He groaned, hand running through hair. “Fine. Yes, my mind has been doing all sort of stupid things since I saw you – not like that, you’re a fair maiden but not…” He sighed again as he massaged his temples, sober thoughts and it’s accompanied headache returning.

“You’re like me?” Her voice was soft, eye’s gentle as if she was worried the question would break him. If hadn’t spent the night out with her, it probably would have. He felt water fill his treacherous eyes – the golden lights in the street blurring in a wet mosaic. He watched her wobbling silhouette approach and place a soft hand on his cheek. His heart was racing, ocean in his ears, and he couldn’t tell if his stomach was doing flips due to the time in The Rising Sun or because, holy shit, someone knows.

“Hey,” came her gentle voice, bringing him back to reality. She moved her fingers softly against his skin and he felt himself lean into her hand. “I’ve never met someone else like me.” Despite the fear and hurt and anger, he smiled. She looked so innocent: stood on the tips of her toes to reach his face, cheeks flushed and tears welling in her own eyes. He opened his mouth, not yet sure what he wanted to say, just as the heavens above opened.

Rain poured down, soaking them both in seconds. Her hair stuck to her face and her thin shirt turned see through. He pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders, before taking her hand. “Let’s get inside.” He called over the rain, thunder rumbling in the distance. She had a large, beautiful, grin on her face as she nodded, blowing a wet strand of hair from her eyes.

She gripped his hand, and they ran. They ran past couples hiding under canvas, past children staying out far too late dancing in the rain, past drunkards emptying their stomachs in the hay. They ran all the way up to the castle, free hands on sides to ease stiches.

By the time they pulled to a stop, hiding under the roof at the top of the entrance stairs and looking out at the courtyard, they were wheezing with laughter and creating puddles at their feet.

“Well,” Miriam panted, “That woke me up some.” Gwaine snorted and shook his hair like a dog, spraying Miriam who squealed in response. She shoved him, trying to get her own back, but slipped and fell. He caught her by the forearms but quickly let go as he noticed her grimace in pain. She ended sprawled on the floor, eyes watering but laughing still. His face fell in concern and he knelt next to her.

“Shit, Miriam, I’m sorry.” She shook her head, waving him off but she cradled her arms to her chest still. “Should we go to Gaius or Merlin? I’m sure—” She butt in, eyes wide.

“No, no, not Merlin. I’m fine, really Gwaine.”

“What’s wrong with Merlin?” He tried not to get defensive but drinking always made him more affectionate for his friends, even when they weren’t there.

She sighed, bringing her legs up to her chest and dropping her head on her knees. “I fucked up with Gwen and now everyone hates me and then I did something even worse this morning.” Her voice was muffled but Gwaine caught it all, mouth dropping slightly. He sat down properly, slotting himself next to her and gently wrapping and arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sure they don’t hate you—”

“They do, and if they didn’t already, what I did this morning certainly confirmed it. By the looks I was getting in the Kitchens this morning, everyone knows. Wouldn’t be surprised if Arthur sends me away tomorrow.” Her voice cracked and she nuzzled herself into Gwaine’s side. He pulled his arm tighter around her and she let out a content sigh.

“What could you have done that was so bad, eh? You threaten Princess or something?” he nudged her gently, in jest, but she lifted her head and stared at him with such sad eyes that his heart broke for her. “How about we get warmed up in my chambers and talk about this? Does that sound alright?” She sniffled, nodding. He stood first and extended his hand for her. The walk to the Knights quarters was quiet – just the patting of their feet and the sound of distant rain – but both their minds were reeling.

Miriam still didn’t quite understand what she had done wrong in the first place and so explaining it to Gwaine was going to be a mammoth task, and then she would also have to explain what her and Juliana had done that morning and what would he even think of that? Would he be disgusted? She couldn’t blame him but if he were, what would she do next? She had had a good night with him, and she knew she could get him to talk of his own issues eventually which would make Merlin happy, so she really wasn’t fond of the idea of loosing him so soon after befriending him. Befriending? Were they truly friends now or had they just happened to have gotten drunk together?

Oh bother, it was all far too much for her hazy mind to comprehend.

Gwaine opened a heavy oak door and stood to the side, waving her in. She bowed her head and obeyed – might as well do as he says so these last few hours of being his friend go as smoothly as possible.

She lit the fire as Gwaine gathered blankets and pillows for them to sit on. Once it was roaring, she leant sat on one of the pillows and stretched her feet out to warm them.

“I have spare clothes you could wear, if you would like? You should get out of your wet clothes, at least.” Face blank – her thoughts were too fast for her to convey emotion anymore – she nodded and pulled her shirt and trousers off, leaving her in just a damp chemise. She pulled a blanket round her shoulders and another over her arms.

Gwaine caught a brief look of what she was covering and had to close his eyes, trying to stop his mind from going down the dark path yet again.

He removed his own clothes, pulling on his night trousers and covering himself in a similar manner to her. They sat, watching the fire dance, and basked in the others presence.

“If it matters any,” he began, taking a deep breath, “I don’t think you could do anything to disgust me. I have explored nearly all the lands of Isles, partaken in most endeavours, so I struggle to imagine you could say something I haven’t seen or experienced myself already.” He kept his head forward, allowing her the space to process his words. He didn’t know what Miriam could have done to elicit such fear in herself, but he meant every word of what he had said. Bar threatening or hurting someone, he couldn’t think of anything she could have done wrong.

She bit her lip, puling the blanket tighter around her and picked at an exposed red stripe on her wrist. She had taken the bandages off after work – they had got covered in so much food that they were more harm than good – and hadn’t wrapped them again. They had scabbed over nicely, according to Gaius, but that made the temptation to scratch at them far worse than before. Especially now, with such an uncomfortable conversation approaching.

“Women sleeping with other women. I know it’s wrong, I know it is against the gods and all that is natural,” If she turned her head, she would have seen the confusion on Gwaine’s face, “And yet, no matter how many times I’ve tried to force out such disgusting temptations, it is something I do.” Gwaine sighed a breath of relief, and then his brows furrowed in concern as he fully processed what she said.

“Forced them out? Of yourself?” He turned towards her, shuffling closer. She allowed herself a moment to glance at his face, before turning back to the fire. She didn’t understand the look he wore. It wasn’t quite anger, nor was it agreement.

“Yes. Sleeping with men, letting them have their way with me, you understand.”

He cocked his head at that, even more confused. “I’m not sure I do, Miriam.”

She turned to face him properly now, crossing her legs to keep distance between them. He mimicked her and let his knees brush hers. “Supposedly you sleep with any woman that will allow you, is that not because you want to avoid something? To change something in yourself?” Judging by the way he averted his eyes, she was right.

“But it never changes anything.” His voice was hoarse, and he kept his eyes on the floor.

“No, no it doesn’t.

There was another pause. Gwaine stood, blanket still covering his arms, and made his way to a cupboard in the corner. He returned with a large ceramic jar and a fruit cake, setting both down next to his seat. He took a large swig from the jar – a home brewed spirit – coughed slightly and passed it to Miriam who did the same.

“So, what did you do wrong?” He thought it a simple enough question and yet the look she made at him suggested otherwise.

After mulling her answer over and taking another swig, she began, “Well, other than the obvious crime—“ she ignored his attempt to interrupt, “I was talking to Gwen. About Lancelot and I. And then she said how she felt there was no man made for her. And then I, hopeful, I suppose, asked if she had explored the prospect of women. And I know that that was wrong of me and I shouldn’t have said it and I apologised as such but the way she looked at me, the way she held such disappointment in those truly beautiful eyes… I fucked up.” She stopped, taking a shaky breath and a piece of the cake.

Once she had finished chewing, he nodded for her to continue. “And then Merlin and I were in my new rooms – talking about you, actually – and she asked for me and I tried to apologise again but I think I did it wrong because she stormed off and Merlin not long followed and—” she cut herself off with a frustrated groan, hands racking through her hair. The blanket fell from her arms, exposing the harsh lines coating them.

Gwaine took another drink.

“And you say you did something worse this morning?”

Her cheeks flushed at that, “Depends who you ask but yes, much worse. Though, Juliana enjoyed it if I do say so myself.” It took him a second, but he caught on with an ‘oh? Oh.’ And she nodded in response.

“But Gwen saw, I am certain of it. Not the whole thing, mind, but the way Juliana was talking to me, and then us going into the storeroom at the back and… I have truly fucked up, Gwaine.” She fell back, staring at the ceiling. He lay down next to her, eyes tracing patterns in the beams running across his room.

He liked to think he knew Merlin and Gwen well - well enough to judge their reactions - and he was sure Miriam was missing something important. Namely that same sex relations such as the ones she mentioned were not a crime in Camelot. Sure, they weren’t the norm, but Arthur, the King himself, partook in them and so the common people were quickly allowing themselves to give into such temptations. Supposedly, even Uther wasn’t that harsh on those found doing such things, although it was never something reported that he did himself. He was also sure that she was leaving out that she had feelings for Gwen and was beating herself up the attraction. Not that he blamed her for liking her – he had tried to pursue her when he had first arrived in Camelot too. She was something special, even the blind could see that.

He turned on his side to face her and waited for her to do the same. “What do you know about Camelot? About it’s attitudes to such things?” Her face scrunched up as she thought about it.

Really, she hadn’t heard anything about what Camelot thought about it. She never intended to end up here – she had gone from town to town for work and the forest she was found in was two days ride away from the citedale. She had intented to make her way as far north as north could go but never had any specific town in her head. She knew that Merlin and Arthur were handsy with each other and she had seen the way they slept together after Merlin had given her his role mat that night, but she assumed that was just something royals did with their servants. Same as they would with a woman.

And yet, with the line of questioning Gwaine was going down, she could sense that she was wrong somewhere along the line. “I don’t know anything about Camelot, save for Uther having been King here a few years past and everyone knows about him. But I have seen how Arthur and Merlin are and I expect you are asking because Merlin isn’t just a body to warm the Princesses bed?”

Gwaine laughed at that, happy she still referred to Arthur as that. “You’d be right there. Why are you so against people like that? People like yourself?” This time she looked angry and, if Gwaine looked close enough, scared. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”

She nodded, chewing her lip and scratching her wrists again. He took her hands in his, keeping them still.

“May I ask you something now, Gwaine?” He nodded slowly. “Could I see you? What you’ve done to yourself?” He sat up, dropping her hands. The blanket fell away but all she could see was his back from where she lay.

“I’m sorry. I just,” she sat up, not looking at him so he could have some privacy, “I want to know what it’s like for other people. And you’re a knight, you’re brave and yet you still did it and I just…” she grew quiet, water welling in her eyes once more, “I always thought myself a coward but maybe I’m not.”

She heard him sigh from next to her.

“I don’t think I’m all that brave, lass. Sometimes I think about joining those troops that go round preforming for lords and ladies. Gwaine the Freak. I’m sure I could draw in a pretty penny.” He laughed but there was no humour in it.

Slowly, he turned to face Miriam, and she followed suit. They locked eyes, her trying to show trust and him trying to confirm it, and then he dropped his blanket.

She couldn’t help the way she leant forward, hands itching to draw over his body. His chest and arms were littered in scars – some from fights and brawls, others from himself. There were a few burn marks, likely from run ins with magical beings. She met his eyes again, asking for permission, before she gave into temptation and traced the patterns marring his skin. She started over his chest, tracing over his heart, down to his ribs and then past a particularly nasty white mound by his naval. She then took his hand in her own, placing it on her knee. She began at his hand, tickling swirls over his palm which made him smile despite himself, and then, slowly, she worked her way up. There were fresh red streaks over the blue streams under his skin. They got less calculated the further up his forearm she got: more erratic, more angry, more hurt. He averted his eyes as she gently trailed her fingers over the fresh ones, not wanting her to see the tears slipping through his lashes. She found the circular scar at his shoulder where he had been skewered by a spear – that one still caused him pain in the winter. Finally, her hands trailed up his neck and cupped his jaw. She pulled his face to look at her again, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“You’re beautiful, Sir Gwaine.” Her voice was light, genuine, and it broke him. He tried to snort, to play it off like it was nothing, but he couldn’t. Those traitorous tears broke the banks and came pouring down. She brought his head down to meet hers, foreheads resting on each other, and he shook. He distantly felt her arms wrap around him, and soft whispers near his ear, but he couldn’t be sure. You’re beautiful, Sir Gwaine. And he knew she meant it, he could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. She didn’t strike him as the kind of girl to dish words like that out and somehow, that made it so much worse. He felt as if he had let her down by being like this, despite knowing being like this was why she was drawn to him. He had never had anyone care for him before (bar Merlin), not truly, and even Merlin hid things from him. He wasn’t stupid, no matter how the other Knights joked: he could see that Merlin had a secret and he was almost certain it was to do with magic, but Merlin didn’t trust him with that, and he could feel the wedge that drove between them. But here was Miriam. A stranger, practically. And here was Miriam, sharing a secret with him that had practically killed her just days before, and here was Miriam, taking him in her arms and making his heart warm in ways it hadn’t since his father had died all those years ago. And here was Miriam, caring. Something so simple, and yet, so rare for him that he no longer knew what to do but cry.

He felt disgusting, snot dripping down his face like a child, and body growing hot sat so close to the fire, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He sighed, tears slowing, and sank deeper against Miriam. She moved her head, resting it on his shoulder and bringing him closer to her. He listened to their heart beats – both still beating wildly from their run and subsequent outbursts.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours but was only a quarter of one. The fire was growing low, desperate for more wood. When they pulled apart from each other, a tangle of sweaty limbs, they stayed silent, basking in the loving atmosphere. Gwaine leant forward, throwing two more logs onto the embers, and sat back again.

Gently, he brought one of his calloused hands to her cheek – just as she had with his – and smiled. It was one of the most genuine smiles he had ever pulled, and he knew she could sense that. “Thank you.” It was barely a whisper, but she nodded, hearing it still.

They ended up working their way through the cake and the spirit, trading stories from the lands they had lived in, and ignoring what had happened before. They were both appreciative for the interaction, but neither was emotionally prepared to dive back into it and so they focused their energy on stuffing their guts.

The sun was beginning to rise by the time they passed out.

#not a burden #mimiswitchywrites #merlin #merlin fic #bbc merlin #gwaine #oc #fem!oc #sir gwaine

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Worry

Prompt: okay so i found your quarantine drabble "it started with a flower" merlin series and can we pls have more of gwen and arthur being worry warts while merlin continues to not understand why their worried? bonus points if merlin is immortal/cant be killed by human injuries so he's more reckless and gwen and arthur are just like "oh for fucks sake please stop merlin if for no other reason then we are mortal and you're killing us w stress" we love self-sacrificing merlin and his worried lovers

Thanks for the prompt, babe! It was so nice to look back at the true mountain of drabbles on this account...still can't get over the fact that a drabble is SUPPOSED to be 100 words exactly...also SHAMELESS D20 reference because that's how we roll babey

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, gwen/arthur, gwen/arthur/merlin

Warnings: none

Word Count: 5653

Merlin has lived through many, many things. He continues to live through many, many things.

The fact that he can do this does not prevent Gwen and Arthur from worrying when he makes some, frankly, quite questionable decisions.

Or, five times Merlin makes Arthur and Gwen worry, and one time they make him worry in return.

1: Poison

In hindsight, the visiting lord was absolutely trying to kill both Arthur and Gwen. The man turned up with all his servants and knights in armor. Even the servants, yes, in leather tunics and with many different squires juggling things that were definitely supposed to be kept hidden. Arthur, of course, didn’t realize this because he’s been trying to be more focused on his own presentation—at least that’s the excuse he gives Gwen—but Merlin knows better. He’s been doing this for a long time.

So when the lord makes a show of rising to his feet amidst a jubilant feast, raising a goblet high in the air, praising Camelot, her strength, and the power of a strong, worthy leader, Merlin has to hide the roll of his eyes when he deftly removes both Gwen and Arthur’s goblets from their grasps. Arthur opens his prat mouth to ask what the hell is going on, only for Merlin to raise an eyebrow, toast to the lord, and down the contents of both.

“Merlin!”

Lancelot is out of his chair in an instant, rushing across the hall to catch Merlin as he slumps, followed swiftly by Gwaine who bellows for Gaius. Percival and Elyan don’t hesitate to draw steel, watching as the servants of the visiting lord hold up their hands.

“My lord,” the visiting lord simpers, “I have absolutely no idea what could have—“

“Save it,” Arthur growls, standing, “you have brought poison into the heart of Camelot. You will explain, but I have no wish to hear your pathetic mumblings right now.”

He turns his back on the lord as the knights rush him, holding the others at bay as Arthur kneels down at Merlin’s side. Gwen rises as well, her chin aloft, looking every bit the queen she is.

Merlin, of course, can’t hear a damn thing past the roaring of blood in his ears. This one’s a nasty one—he can feel it burning as it goes down his throat, splitting off into slivers that find their way through his body, into his chest, into his arms, right down to the tips of his fingers. It feels as though he’s both deathly cold and about to sweat out every little bit of moisture in his body.

He can’t see much either, his eyes squeezing shut to deal with the pain, but he can sense the moving of blurry shapes above him. Probably Lancelot, probably Gwaine, probably not Gaius yet, he’s quite far away.

Oh, is he being lifted? He’s probably being lifted. Alright, so they’re taking him to Gaius this time. That’s new. Wow, is the walk to Gaius’s always this long? Yes? No? He’s having a bit of a hard time keeping track of time right now.

“Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Merlin tries to say, only for his throat to explode in agony again the second fresh air enters, so he just ends up making this horrible half-screech-groan sound.

“Don’t try and speak,” the voice orders, presumably doing something other than just standing there watching this happen, not that Merlin can feel anything, “just hold on. We’re doing our best.”

Merlin closes his eyes fully and relaxes as much as he can onto the bench. Which probably isn’t very much if he remembers how most of these poisons work. He breathes, reaches deep into his chest for his magic, and waits, letting the slow golden light work its way around his body, helped along by whatever Gaius is doing to him.

He opens his eyes an uncertain amount of time later, looking straight into the most disapproving eyebrow he’s gotten in a while.

He swallows, cracking a smile when his throat merely tingles.

“So,” he croaks, “did I miss the rest of the feast?”

“Oh, Merlin!”

Ah, there’s Gwen—she flies into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his middle, squeezing and holding on for dear life. Oh, her face is wet, has she—

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, clumsily trying to pat her back, “it’s okay, ‘m alright. You’re alright too.”

“Thanks to you,” Gwen says, drawing back and wiping her face only to join Gaius in staring at him with the face of a disappointed parent, “Merlin, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I have a much better chance of surviving that than you and Arthur?”

Gwen bats his shoulder with her shawl. “That is beside the point and you know it. You scared us.”

“Sorry, but—“

“No, Merlin,” Gwen says sternly, “no ‘buts.’ I understand what you’re trying to do, but you know this isn’t good for you.”

“I don’t normally down poison on the regular, no.”

He grins, big and cheeky, right in her face. And to give her credit, she manages to gold that stern queenly façade for a few moments longer before she breaks, smiling and shaking her head and rushing right back in to hug him.

“I trust you unconditionally,” she murmurs, “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“I have to keep you safe,” Merlin mumbles, still quite tired from fighting the poison, “and I’m alright. I’m always alright, you know that.”

“I know, Merlin.” She draws back and cups his face with a gentle hand. “But I worry.”

“So do I.”

“Not about yourself,” Gwen whispers, “not nearly as much as you should.”

“Well, when I start reacting to deadly things like a normal person, I’ll be more worried.”

2: Bandits

They’re just on a hunting trip. It’s not even a patrol. The knights aren’t even in all their capes and obvious things that flap about in the wind like signal flags saying ‘yes! Hello! We are here and we are obviously from Camelot! Please come and try to stab us!’ Seriously, Merlin’s going to have words with whoever decided that a mandatory part of the knights’ everyday patrol wear is going to be massive red things tied around their necks. It’s a serious thing that he’s run into at least four times. It’s getting a little ridiculous.

Anyway, they’re not wearing those this time, because this is a casual hunt for only the king and his most trusted. Also known as: Arthur the prat is getting tired of being a prat in the castle and wants to go be a prat outside.

Also also known as: court life is hard and the knights—and Merlin—can see Arthur getting tired. So they drag him out to the woods where he can’t escape any of their snark because “There’s no one else here but us, Princess, get used to it.”

Merlin knows Arthur well enough to know he’s secretly very, very grateful for it.

You wanna know what he’s probably not grateful for? The inability of one of their hunts to go without running into at least one mess of bandits after an easy raid.

One hunt, just one. Please.

Merlin doesn’t even like hunts. He just likes not being in the citadel all the time.

He ducks swiftly behind a tree as a bandit takes a wild swing at him with his sword, getting it lodged in the trunk next to him. Merlin’s eyes go wide as the bandit rips it out again with a vicious snarl, drool leaking from his lips as he grins angrily at Merlin. His nose wrinkles as he smells the bandit’s breath.

“Ugh, you’re worse than Arthur in the morning.”

He uses the bandit’s momentary confusion to blast him across the clearing into a tree, knocking him out.

“So Arthur in the morning, huh?”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Gwaine blocks another sword. “Listen, if you want to try and get the prat out of bed, you be my guest.”

“And deprive you of that honor?” Gwaine smirks. “Not on your life.”

Merlin opens his mouth to make some snappy remark when he notices four bandits rushing at them over Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Look out!”

He sends Gwaine to the side with a blast of magic, ignoring the shout of protest. The bandits get closer, swords raised high, one of them letting out a vicious cackle.

Merlin sighs. Honestly.

He raises his hand and sends them all flying backward, smiling a little at the way the vicious cackle turns into a whine that would’ve made the runt of the new litter of dogs ashamed. The bandits lie on the ground, dazed, swords lying all across the clearing.

“Merlin!”

Merlin glances over, seeing Arthur rushing at him. He barely has time to turn before Arthur’s bowling into him, hugging him so tightly he panics for a second that Arthur’s under some sort of enchantment trying to kill him. Only to realize no, this is just his prat hugging him because he’s scared.

“I’m fine, Arthur.”

“There were four of them, you—clot pole!”

“That’s my word.”

“Yes, and it suits you perfectly! Merlin, you could’ve been killed!”

Merlin makes a show of looking around at himself, still fully intact, then back up at a panting Arthur. “I think I’m all in one piece, sire.”

“Don’t you ‘sire’ me, Merlin, you—“

“Did Arthur just admit that he likes it when I don’t refer to him with the proper titles?” Merlin glances around at the other knights that are trying valiantly not to laugh. “Did I just hear that right?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Me too.”

“I mean we all knew it.”

“It’s taken him this long to figure it out.”

Leon simply shrugs. That man’s ability to keep a straight face is something Merlin will always respect and never understand. But he has gotten very good at spotting the way Leon will wink surreptitiously at him when he’s amused. Like now.

“Alright, alright, enough,” Arthur mutters, sheathing his sword and wrapping his arms tightly around Merlin again. “Don’t do that.”

“What, take care of all of our enemies really easily?”

“Scare me.”

“And now you’re admitting that you get scared when I’m in danger?”

“Only because I know Gwen would have my head.”

“Ah, yes, because Gwen is like that.”

Arthur glares at him. There’s a flash of something behind his eyes. Merlin spots it.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, too quiet for the others to hear, “and I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You’d better be.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Gwaine calls loudly to various laughs, “let’s go. There are still tracks here.”

Arthur looks back at Merlin. “You’re riding next to me.”

“You say that as if I don’t already ride next to you.”

“Shut up.”

3: Fall

Okay so listen: when you chase people around the castle, they inevitably look for a way out. And if they’re high up, they’re going to go for a window if they get desperate enough.

Yes? Everyone on the same page?

Wonderful.

So Merlin’s currently falling out of a window.

In his defense, there was a rogue sorcerer who hadn’t realized that the ban on magic had been lifted and Uther isn’t king anymore skulking around the citadel. Merlin’s best guess is that they were imprisoned somewhere and only just got free, otherwise they’d’ve known. And, well, they tried to explain that magic is legal now—he’s so proud of Gwen and Arthur, really.

Someone just burst into their chambers in the middle of the knight and Gwen had been out of bed, offering him a drink and sitting down while Arthur asked the guards if they could bring food. They’d told him the ban had been lifted and that he was free to practice magic now. Then Merlin had shown up and asked what was going on and apparently, they’d taken it as a challenge? That Merlin—the Court Sorcerer—was going to arrest them for practicing magic.

In their defense, it was the middle of the night. Not in their defense, come on.

So they’d run, promising to bring down the walls of the castle. Merlin had rolled his eyes because he just got here, and taken off after him. They’d run around the top floors of the castle for a while, trying to figure out first, where the stairs were, and second, what the bloody hell was going on.

Then the sorcerer had jumped out a window. Sure. Alright.

Unluckily for him, when he’d broken the glass, a large shard had decided to make its home in his chest and he was dead before he hit the ground. Merlin, not realizing precisely what the plan was—when had he ever?—jumped after him, only to realize that there is in fact, no courtyard over here, just empty air until the cold stone of the square below.

So, falling.

It’s surprisingly peaceful, as a way to go. Time to enjoy the view, a good reminder that they should really make sure there’s someone at the front gate, and Merlin simply closes his eyes and concentrates.

There.

At the last possible minute, he slows, reaching almost a stop, before letting himself drop the last few feet to land harmlessly on the ground. Well. That could’ve gone better.

“Merlin!”

“Right on time,” he mutters, getting himself to his feet, and brushing off the little pieces of glass, looking up to see Gwen leaning out of the window.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, thank god,” she calls, “you’re alright. Now get up here, this instant.”

He grins, sweeping into a low bow before heading up the stairs. He opens the door to their quarters and is promptly yanked inside and into an embrace.

“Hello, Gwen,” he says softly, “it’s good to see you too.”

“Good to see—Merlin,” Gwen scolds, "you could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” Gwen wipes her face and oh…oops.

“I’m alright Gwen,” he says quietly, “really.”

It’s late. It’s the middle of the night and it’s dark and Gwen just had to put on every single ounce of royal charm she has, and watch Merlin take a fall that would’ve killed pretty much everyone else. As he watches, her queenly mask starts to break as she keeps a hold of his sleeve, dragging him to the table and setting a plate of food aside, glaring at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“Not at all, my lady.”

“Don’t. Not now, Merlin. Not while I’m this worried.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he demurs, lifting his hands in surrender, “but really, Gwen, I’m not hurt. I’ve been practicing that spell, it won’t—“

“You’ve been practicing?” Merlin winces as Gwen draws herself up taller. “So you regularly throw yourself from great heights?”

“No, I just jump off my bed.”

“Off your bed?”

“The point is that I slow immediately when the spell takes effect,” Merlin says, “so I don’t need very much distance from the floor.”

She folds her arms and stares at him. “So what you’re saying is this is the first time you’ve done it from a great height and you weren’t sure it was going to work?”

Merlin’s hesitation gives her all the answers she needs.

“Gods, Merlin,” she mumbles, slumping into a chair and covering her face, “you’re going to scare me to death one of these days.”

“Nah. I’ll save you from that.”

“How, by doing some equally death-defying stunt?”

Merlin grins and takes her hand. “No. By not letting you see it.”

“Merlin…”

He relents, opening his arms and letting her give him another hug. He squeezes back firmly, trying to communicate that he’s here, he’s safe, and it’s okay.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Gwen whispers eventually, “and I’m glad that everything…worked out. We do need to make sure that the sorcerers no longer feel the need to live in fear…”

Merlin chuckles as he feels Gwen’s brow furrow against his shoulder, probably already drafting things to do.

“Not tonight, Your Majesty,” he scolds gently, pushing her toward the bed, “you need rest.”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Arthur?”

“Probably looking for you,” Gwen murmurs as she slides back beneath the covers, “so you have to stay up until he gets back.”

“…and so he can yell at me too, hmm?”

Gwen snuggles into her pillow and smiles.

4: Stab

So.

Uh, Merlin doesn’t really know how they got here this time.

Because—right, well, it’s not really a secret that Merlin is very close to both Gwen and Arthur. It’s just not. Anyone with a pair of eyes who can walk into Camelot and see them is going to figure it out. Even Uther realized it.

Merlin will never forget the way Arthur burst out laughing when he told him what Uther said to Merlin that day before the tournament, looking up with tears in his eyes and just managing to gasp: “you’re telling me that you and I got my father’s blessing before Gwen and I even started seeing each other?”

Yes. Yes, he is.

Anyway, the point is, Gwen, Merlin, Arthur, they’re very close.

Also something that should be fairly obvious to anyone who’s been to Camelot in the last little bit of time is that one: magic is legal. Two: Merlin is Court Sorcerer.

Get it? Wonderful. So.

The man who is currently holding Merlin hostage with a sword to his throat knows that Merlin is important to Gwen and Arthur. He doesn’t seem to realize that Merlin is Court Sorcerer.

How those two things are not the first two things he realized Merlin does not understand. Honestly, he’s going to chalk that up to why he’s too startled by the fact that he’s got people coming at him with a sword to do anything about it. The sheer inability of those facts to reconcile in his brain prevents him from taking any action.

Honestly, he’s still figuring that out. Enough so that it takes him a while to realize that Leon is desperately trying to signal him and ask if he’s alright.

He gives back the okay and Leon’s expression morphs into one of soft exasperation. To everyone else, it probably doesn’t look like Leon’s face has changed at all, but they haven’t spent several council meetings with the man trading insults only through shifts in micro-expressions.

It’s quite entertaining, especially when they start to get really, really creative.

Anyway. Sword. Throat. Yes.

He’s not sure why currently being held hostage. Someone who wants something, probably. That’s generally why people get taken hostage, right? The sword presses a little closer and Merlin makes an effort to focus.

“Do this,” Arthur warns, his own sword out, “and you will never leave Camelot alive.”

“What good is Camelot,” the man scoffs, “if it allows for the devilish act of witchcraft and sorcery that will poison it from the inside?”

“You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” the man snarls, spittle flying from his lips, “but not nearly as stupid as you.”

Arthur glances at Merlin. Merlin nods.

“Let him go,” Arthur says again, “and this might yet end well.”

The man throws his head back and cackles, the sword nudging insistently at his throat. Merlin winces. That was loud.

“This won’t end well,” the man says through his giggles, “and you know it.”

“Then let him go.”

“Alright,” the man snickers, “but you’ll have to give me a head start.”

Gwaine snarls, even as Arthur holds firm.

“I make you no promises.”

“I know. That’s why I’m giving myself a head start.”

Merlin’s about to wonder what the hell that means only for the sword to drive into his stomach.

Ah. That’s not ideal.

He slumps to the ground as the man lets him go, hearing the screams from the servants gathered in the hall and the shouts from the knights. He feels the breeze as they rush past him, two remaining behind to immediately put pressure on the wound and get him upright, wrapping his stomach tightly and promising that he’s going to be alight.

“‘Lyan?”

“Yeah, Merlin,” Elyan mutters, “it’s me. Leon’s here too, we’ve got you.”

“You’ll be alright, yes?” Leon whips off the bloodied tunic. “You will be fine.”

“Sit m’ up.”

They do, propping him up against the wall as the servants quickly rush for Gaius, for hot water, for bandages. Someone—maybe Malwen—sets a bowl at Leon’s elbow, followed by the quick assurances that Gaius is on his way.

Merlin closes his eyes and concentrates, trying to remember the few times Gaius tried to teach him about basic anatomy. Listen, it’s not that he wasn’t paying attention, it’s just that he—

Yeah, no, he wasn’t paying much attention.

Listen, like…three different people were trying to kill Arthur that day. He was preoccupied.

Stab wound. Right.

Merlin takes a deep breath, ignoring the way the breath aches and wheezes as it travels into him, and starts to gently draw magic from the well in his chest toward the stab wound. He feeds it slowly, trying not to overexert himself, just enough to staunch and stop the bleeding until Gaius can get here.

Something clatters to the floor next to him and he barely looks over enough to see Arthur.

“Stay still,” Arthur murmurs frantically, fussing with his tunic, “you’ll be alright Merlin, I promise, you’re going to be alright.”

Merlin knows, but he’s busy right now, so he can’t really talk back.

“It’s going to be alright,” Arthur repeats, over and over, “Merlin, you’re going to be alright.”

He manages to look over, catching sight of Arthur’s hair a mess, his eyes wild, his mouth a hard line. Arthur glances up from his slightly trembling hands and catches his gaze, doing his best to put on a brave smile. He reaches out and cups Merlin’s face gently.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says softly, speaking as much to both of them as he can, “you’re going to be alright, Gaius will fix you up, and then I can worry about how to make sure you’re safe, so this never happens again.”

His mouth quirks when something flits across Merlin’s face.

“If you try and tell me you can take care of yourself,” he admonishes gently, “I am going to remind you that you currently have quite the stab wound.”

One that Merlin is handling quite well, actually, thank you very much.

“I know you’d rather it be you than us,” Arthur whispers, laying his forehead against Merlin’s, “but you—you can’t just let this happen to you, Merlin, you’ll…”

He swallows, his eyes drifting shut.

“…you’ll break my heart.”

A surge of magic shoots through Merlin at Arthur’s hushed confession, filling the wound with a burning glow. Merlin leans forward as much as he can, resting his own weight on the wall and on Arthur. Arthur holds him gladly, muttering that he can’t wait until Merlin’s better so he can scold him for being so reckless.

Well, when Merlin figures out how the man didn’t realize he was magic, he’ll have one hell of a defense. Who knows, Arthur might get a kick out of it too.

5: Plague

At some point, Merlin thinks as he heaves another stone out of the way, we’re going to stop coming across cursed objects. There has to be a limit. There just has to be.

This one has a plague attached to it because of course, it does. The entire citadel had been overrun with shadow demons that could only be seen by one person, everyone jumping at every little sound, unsure of whether they were seeing real people or the figments of their nightmares. What made things far worse is that some of them could be seen by multiple people and some of them couldn’t. So you could never be sure whether people would believe what you were seeing.

Someone called this the Plague of the Shadow Cat.

Gaius had gone into the books, trying to figure out a solution. Turns out the only way was to go to this cavern out in the middle of nowhere and destroy these four totems that allowed the Shadow Cat passage, in order to break the curse. The problem was that the cavern was in the middle of a massive forest that no one wanted to go close to.

Merlin had sighed and packed his bags.

As it turns out, the forest was designed to keep people out of it—reasonable—and used magic to twist someone’s fears to keep them at bay. You know what Merlin has? Magic.

It was easier than it would’ve been for anyone else, surely, which is good. What isn’t good is that Merlin still has to survive going through this massive forest. He’s had enough of dried meat and berries for a long time, thank you very much.

After about a day or two of walking and not getting lost, he’s just being thorough, he reaches the entrance of the cavern. It’s piled high with rocks from what looks like a collapse, and starts trying to get them out of the way. Unfortunately, most of his magic is going to keeping the nightmares at bay, meaning he can’t really risk using it to get these stones out of his way lest he let the nightmares in.

He’s had enough nightmares for a lifetime already.

He grunts as he heaves another one out of the way. Honestly. Is there a checklist he can look at with all the cursed objects in the world? They’ve got to be at least halfway done at this point, come on. It’s been years.

At last, he manages to get the stones out of the way and ventures into the cavern. Around the twists and turns he reaches the center, seeing the four totems. He snaps his fingers to create a light, peering at each one. It seems as if he’s just going to have to disenchant them. Well, that won’t be too hard.

And…it isn’t. Huh. That’s a little anti-climactic.

He’s sure if he had to battle his way past his greatest fears and the Shadow Cat was actually here fighting him, this would be a lot harder. But, it’s not, so here he is, all done. Now he just has to get back through the forest. Ugh.

Merlin rides back into Camelot to see the people in the streets, happy, content, not afraid. He smiles, letting their joy wash some of the forests off of him. He slides off Cara and puts her away, wiping her down and giving her as many treats as the stable master will let him. He makes it back inside, to Gaius’s chambers, ready to throw open the door triumphantly and announce he’s fixed it!

The second he opens it to see Gwen and Arthur he freezes.

“…hello.”

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, and oh shit he’s in trouble, “did you travel well?”

“A little damp, if I’m being…” He trails off when Arthur shoots him a look. “Yes. I did.”

Arthur nods sharply, leaning against the table and folding his arms.

“The curse is broken,” he tries, letting the door shut behind him, “and I don’t think it’ll ever come back.”

“That’s good, Merlin,” Arthur says in a tone of voice that suggests anything but, “that’s very good.”

Merlin nods hesitantly, glancing at Gwen. Gwen doesn’t look back at him, her eyes fixed on the vase of flowers in front of her. She withdraws one and holds it gently in her hands, turning toward Merlin, expressionless. Merlin fights the urge to flinch as she finally looks up at him.

“Do you know,” she says and this time Merlin does flinch, Gwen’s never sounded that cold before, “what happened the last time you vanished without telling us?”

Merlin’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry,” he says, starting forward, “I didn’t realize—I—“

“No, Merlin,” Gwen says, still cold, “you don’t realize.”

“We trust you, Merlin,” Arthur continues, “but that doesn’t mean that you can just leave, in the middle of a plague, on a mission that could get you killed without saying goodbye.”

“You don’t get to decide that it’s worth it,” Gwen says before Merlin can interrupt, “and you certainly don’t get to decide that we don’t deserve a chance to say goodbye.”

Merlin deflates, their words striking his chest with such ferocity that for a moment, he wonders if this is the fear he’s meant to face. “I’m…I’m sorry, I just…I knew I could do it.”

He closes his eyes. “I have to protect Camelot, protect you.”

“We know, Merlin,” Gwen says, her voice finally softening just a little, “but you don’t realize that we have to protect you too.”

Arthur walks forward, lifting Merlin’s chin. Merlin stares at him, desperately wanting Arthur to smile. Something.

“You’re the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth,” Arthur says instead, “but you’re still our Merlin. So we worry.”

“I know.”

“So,” Arthur says, giving him a gentle nudge, “don’t do that.”

“You may be nearly immortal, but we’re not,” Gwen adds, coming over to take his hand too, “and you will give us more reason to stress than any of the things you stop put together.”

Merlin looks back and forth between the two of them. “So you’re not…angry?”

“Oh, of course we are.”

Merlin winces, only for Arthur to pull him into a tight hug, his head tucking over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Completely furious,” he murmurs, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck, “aren’t we, Gwen?”

“Absolutely.” Merlin feels Gwen wrap her arms around him as well. “Totally and utterly furious.”

Merlin wriggles halfheartedly in their grasp. “I’m not getting out of this anytime soon, am I?”

“No. This is your punishment. Stay put.”

“…fine.”

+1: Cold

“No, Arthur,” Merlin grunts, shoving the prat back into bed, “stay, I will get you the soup.”

Arthur pouts, looking every bit a sad golden puppy in his read blanket as Merlin bustles about the room. “I can stand, Merlin.”

“No, you can’t, you’re sick. Now shush and eat.”

From the other room comes a sneeze that is far too close to the door.

“Gwen, you’d better be in bed when I come in there!”

He hears the quick pitter-patter of footsteps as he crosses the room to the other chambers, hands on his hips as Gwen glances up, guiltily letting the covers drop on top of her.

“I’m in bed,” she says, holding up her hands, “see?”

“Yes, I can see,” Merlin huffs, “but you have to stay there. You’re sick.”

“It’s just a cold, Merlin, I’m—I’m—“

Gwen is cut off by another spectacular sneeze.

“…handkerchief?”

Merlin rolls his eyes and offers her one, watching as she blows her nose and shakes out her curls. If Arthur’s the puppy, she’s the kitten, startling herself with the force of her own sneezes.

“What were you so desperate to get out of bed for?”

“The book on my desk,” Gwen mumbles, reaching for it, “I wanted to—“

“Keep working.”

“No!” At Merlin’s knowing look, she makes a face. “…maybe.”

Merlin sighs. “I will get you a book, but you promised you wouldn’t try to work like this.”

“But I’m fine.”

“Yes, and I notice your sneezes didn’t interrupt you this time.”

“Merlin, I am alright.”

“Yes, so let’s have you stay in bed and rest until you’re better, hmm?”

He hears a clang from the other room. He narrows his eyes at Gwen who blinks innocently at him. Without breaking eye contact, he waves his hand.

“Hey!”

“Get your arse back in bed, sire.”

“I’m fine, Merlin.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows at Gwen. “Will you stay while I get your husband back in bed, please?”

“…if you bring me the book on the desk, I will.”

Merlin glances over and waves his hand. Gwen’s poetry book—not her work book—flies into his hand and he gives it to her.

“All yours.”

“Merlin, that’s not—“

“You surely weren’t trying to work were you?” He raises his eyebrows. “Because that would be a bad idea.”

Gwen pops open the book and buries her nose in it. “…thank you, Merlin.”

“You are most welcome. Now you,” he announces, striding back to see Arthur trying to open the now magically locked door, “will go back to bed.”

“Gaius said we were fine, Merlin,” Arthur pouts, “so we can go.”

“Gaius also said that I was in charge, so you’ll go back to bed.”

“Well, I’m the King.”

“And I’m the Court Sorcerer.” Merlin lifts his hand, letting a little of his magic swirl around his hand. “Which means you should get back in bed.”

“Threatening a king is treason, Merlin.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure the knights would be thrilled,” Merlin replies dryly, shooing Arthur back to bed, “now you will stay put.”

He doesn’t quite swaddle Arthur in the blanket but it is a close thing. Arthur just grumbles a little, reaching out and grabbing Merlin’s tunic and dragging him down onto the bed too. “Then you stay.”

“I have to get your medicine.”

“Have the guards do it.” Arthur snuggles into his tunic. “You stay.”

Merlin resigns himself to his fate, curling around his king. Arthur rumbles happily, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck.

“That’s the last time I let you two go out for picnics in the moonlight,” Merlin grumbles to himself, “look at what’s happened to you.”

“Now you know how we feel,” Arthur mumbles sleepily.

“You realize that we are now even for all of the things I’ve done, then.”

“Oh, no. Not even close.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, sire.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merthur #merthur fic #gwen #arthur pendragon #fic #dragonbabbles

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