#who stands in front of him? (merlin of course and his knights too)

[riverofrainbows]

It breaks my heart how quick Arthur is to lay down his life for a cause. He is so young, and so ready to die. He has always been raised to fulfill his "purpose", which he believes is to be a knight and king. How the fuck did Uther fuck up so bad that Arthur values his own life less than the first honourable cause he can find.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 9

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,699

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 | Read Chapter 5 | Read Chapter 6

Read Chapter 7 | Read Chapter 8

Read on Ao3

Gwaine’s mind is a mess of hurt, anger and sorrow, each blow to the training dummy serving as an outlet for his intense emotions.

“You alright Gwaine?” Percival asks as he looks on with a teasing grin. “Did the dummy insult you in some way?”

Gwaine scowls in reply as Arthur announces that it is time to swap to sparring. He pairs Percival with Leon, and Gwaine with Elyan. They begin trading blows, changing between offence and defence, blocking, parrying and striking. Gwaine’s style is particularly aggressive, giving Elyan hardly a chance to defend himself, let alone strike any blows, before Arthur calls an end to the bout.

“Bloody hell, Gwaine, are you actually trying to kill me?” Elyan pants, eyes wide.

“Apologies, my friend,” Gwaine replies, patting Elyan on the shoulder gruffly. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,”

Gwaine crosses the training field to return his sword to the rack, where Merlin appears next to him, a training dummy under one arm.

“Are you alright?” He asks, frowning concernedly at his friend.

“Yeah,” Gwaine answers automatically, forcing a smile. He glances at Merlin, who’s grimacing back at him, clearly not convinced. Gwaine drops the smile. “No, not really. Have you got a moment to talk after this, in my chambers?”

“Of course,” Merlin nods. “Once I pack all this away, I’ll be there,”

~

Gwaine paces the length of his chambers, deep in thought and face set in a frown, until there’s a knock at his chamber door.

“Enter,” He says.

The door swings open and Merlin steps inside, latching it behind him as he looks at his friend with concern. Gwaine gestures to a small table behind him, and he and Merlin both sit down.

“It’s (Y/N),” Gwaine begins. “I’ve finally managed to speak with her. It’s bad, Merlin,” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It seems my sister has been running her mouth, spreading nasty rumours about me, and (Y/N) came to hear of them. She’s been led to believe that I’m some kind of skirt-chaser and that I don’t care for her at all,”

“Did you tell her it’s not true?” Merlin asks.

“Of course I did. I told her that she can’t believe a word my sister says, but I don’t know if she believed me. I was too angry to say any more so I left,”

Merlin frowns, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know… I thought maybe I should give her some space to think things over. Then she can decide what she wants to do… whether she wants to speak to me again,” Gwaine turns his head away, hair falling in front of his face, hiding the emotion beginning to show itself.

“So, you’re going to wait for her to come to you?” Merlin asks.

Gwaine shrugs.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Merlin says. “(Y/N) seems like the kind of person who might find that difficult, especially since I’m sure she’s feeling pretty terrible right now. She might wait for you to make the next move. Then you’ll both be sitting around, waiting for the other, torturing yourselves in the process,” He shakes his head. “No, you both need to talk this out, and the sooner, the better,”

“I don’t know, Merlin. I don’t want to harass her. She might not want to talk,”

Merlin’s chair scrapes back as he stands. “I’ll go and talk to her,”

“No,” Gwaine stands so swiftly that his chair falls back with a loud thud. “I don’t want her to think I’m sending someone else to fight my battles,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it clear that you haven’t sent me. I’m a concerned friend, that’s all,”

Merlin smiles reassuringly before exiting Gwaine’s chambers.

~

You begin applying gold trim to the king’s doublet, the garment having reached your favourite stage of creation (besides the finished result), which is when it actually starts to look like something. If only you could feel the satisfaction that you usually would at this stage, but your mind is clouded and unfocused. No matter what task you set yourself to, always in the back of your mind is guilt and heartache.

You take a step back to inspect your work when there’s a knock at your chamber door. Your stomach drops. It must be Gwaine. You’re not ready to speak with him yet. Even though a full day has passed, you haven’t thought up anything you could possibly say to him. But now’s the moment, whether you’re ready or not, you have to answer that door.

You cross your chambers and open to door, surprised to find Merlin looking back at you.

“I waited this time,” He says with a lopsided grin.

“Indeed,” You reply. “The king’s doublet is not yet complete. I’m just working on it now,”

“Hmm?” Merlin raises his brows. “Oh, I’m not here about that,”

“Alright… why are you here?”

You open the door wider to admit him and he steps inside, a thumb and finger on his chin, brow furrowed in thought.

You cross the room to the dining table. “Would you like to sit?”

You gesture to the chair opposite you and Merlin nods. You take a seat as he does, clasping his hands in front of him.

He clears his throat. “You know, Gwaine is a good friend of mine,”

You avert your eyes guiltily, steeling yourself for a tongue-lashing.

“He told me what happened,” Merlin continues. “But he is afraid to speak with you again, in case you don’t wish to speak to him, and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to come here and ask you to please speak to him as soon as you can,”

“Does he not hate me?”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “He’s just hurting. He’s extremely upset with his sister and… I think he’s afraid he’s lost you,”

Tears prick your eyes and you reach into your pocket to retrieve a handkerchief, dabbing the moisture away.

“I’ve spent the last day trying to think of what to say to him, but I just can’t find the words. All I can think of is how dreadful I feel,”

“In situations like these, it’s impossible to think of the perfect thing to say, because there isn’t one,” Merlin’s blue eyes look earnestly into yours. “You just need to speak from your heart. When you see him, you’ll know what to say,”

You sigh, fiddling with the handkerchief in your lap. “I don’t know about that,”

“Well, I know this,” Merlin straightens. “Gwaine is a good man, one of the very best. There was a time when Gaius was framed and accused of treason. Everyone believed he was guilty, but I knew he would never betray Arthur. I was angry and I was afraid, and I felt that I had no one to turn to. I returned to my chambers one night and there was Gwaine, waiting for me. He wanted to see if I was alright, and when I told him that Gaius had not fled to avoid punishment, but was kidnapped, he believed me. He came with me, no questions asked, to find Gaius and to save him. Gwaine found Gaius and brought him home,” Merlin’s eyes glisten with the emotion of the memory. “He is a true and loyal friend. I’m afraid I overlooked that for too long. Don’t make the same mistake as I did. He has been, and will be, true to you as well,”

You nod sombrely as hot tears fall down your cheeks and into your lap. “I can tell you speak from the heart, Merlin,” Your voice wavers as you force out the words before standing and walking to the nearest window, looking out at the sky. “Do the knights have training this evening?”

“Of course,” Merlin replies.

“Then I shall speak with Gwaine after that,”

“Excellent,” Merlin stands with a smile. “Speaking of training, I need to make sure Arthur’s armour is in order,”

You leave your spot at the window and approach Merlin.

“Thank you for coming to speak with me. You’ve given me courage,”

“You’ve found that courage yourself,” Merlin smiles. “Good luck for this evening,”

~

You spend the next few hours continuing work on the king’s doublet, then swap to Gwen’s gown. The plan is for them both to be completed at the same time so they can be revealed together. Your body feels tight as you work, full of nervous tension for your upcoming conversation with Gwaine. While there is no certainty about how it will go, there is at least a small sense of relief in knowing that he is open to talking. You had worried that you’d hurt him too badly.

You sew until the sunlight filters through your window in that particular way, and you know that the time has come. You briefly check your appearance in the glass, tucking away any fly-aways and smoothing your skirts, before heading out.

You arrive in the wing of the castle containing the knights’ personal chambers and realise that you’re unsure which room belongs to Gwaine. You overheard his and Erika’s voices from one of the rooms those weeks ago, but weren’t close enough to discern exactly where they came from. You decide to just try one of the doors, and if another knight answers, you can simply ask for direction to Gwaine’s chambers. You knock on the door closest to you. Receiving no response, you move onto the next door, but also receive no reply. Your make your way down the passage, knocking on each door, until you’ve tried all, and do not receive a single answer.

You pace for a few moments, flustered. You’d worked up the courage to do this, your stomach twisting itself into knots in anticipation, and now… nothing. Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, you think what to do next, when the idea strikes you to find Merlin and ask him if he knows where the knights may be.

You arrive at Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, knocking on the door firmly.

“Enter,” Gaius’ voice calls from within.

You unlatch the door and step inside. Gaius stands up from behind a desk and removes his glasses, placing them atop the pages of an open tome.

“How may I assist you, (Y/N)?” He asks with a friendly smile.

“I was just wanting to speak to Merlin,” You reply.

“I’m afraid Merlin is not here currently. Is there something I could help you with?”

You consider whether or not to be open with the physician, and ultimately decide that there is no reason for secrecy.

“I was meaning to speak with Sir Gwaine actually, but he wasn’t in his chambers. None of the knights were in fact, so I came here, hoping Merlin might know something,”

“Ah,” Gaius’ eyes brighten with understanding. “The knights were called away on an urgent mission with the king. Merlin has gone with them,”

“I see,” Your anxiety flares. “Do you know when they are expected to return?”

“It is hard to say,”

You nod. “Thank you, Gaius,”

He bows his head in response and you exit the physician’s chambers.

You begin heading back to your own chambers in a sort of daze. You were already anxious when you headed out to see Gwaine, but now, not only are you unable to speak with him, he’s off on an urgent mission, and surely urgent means dangerous? You need to know more, so you change direction and head for the royal chambers.

You receive and answer immediately after you knock, and let yourself inside. Gwen turns to greet you from in front of the antechamber’s window.

“(Y/N),” She smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Upon seeing your expression, her smile falters. “Is everything alright?”

“I went to speak with Gwaine,” you say, closing the gap between you and joining her by the window. “But he’s away,”

“Yes, Arthur and the knights have set out on an urgent mission,” Gwen replies.

“I heard such from Gaius. Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Villages on Camelot’s borders have been attacked,” Gwen speaks in a low voice, as if worried of being overheard. “Arthur wants to know whether it’s simply raiders, or whether it’s enemies crossing the border,” She turns to gaze out the window. “I shouldn’t say simply raiders. There’s nothing simple about them for the poor people whose homes are being targeted,”

“What happens if it’s raiders?”

“Arthur and his knights will defeat them,”

“And if it is enemies crossing the border?” You ask.

“Then it’s an act of war,” Gwen frowns.

“Then for the kingdom’s sake, I hope it’s raiders,”

“So do I,” Gwen turns back to you, her expression troubled. “Though I have seen first-hand the damage raiders can do. Those poor villagers,” She shakes her head, as if to dismiss the unpleasant thoughts. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I have not,”

“Then will you dine with me tonight?”

“I would like that very much,” You answer truthfully. You would prefer not to be left with only your own thoughts tonight.

Gwen smiles before heading to the door, opening it and poking her head out to speak with the guards outside. She closes the door again and gestures for you to sit at the dining table and she takes the seat adjacent to you.

“I’ve arranged for two dinners to be brought up,” She says.

You thank her, but find yourself not knowing what else to say in the moment. You can’t seem to think of anything conversational. You strain to think of something, anything to talk about, when Gwen breaks the silence.

“I feel I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t bring this up. I knew there was something wrong when you conducted my fitting the other day, and Gwaine hasn’t been his usual cheerful self either. Has something happened between you?”

You certainly hadn’t planned on unburdening yourself tonight, but when Gwen looks at you, the question in her eyes as well as friendly concern, you reveal all, every wretched detail, your composure completely lost as she holds your hand in hers.

“And I went to try to fix things tonight,” You continue your story. “But now he’s gone on a dangerous mission and he doesn’t know how sorry I am,”

“You talk as if tonight was your only chance to speak with him. He’ll be back,” Gwen smiles reassuringly.

“I’m just so worried something terrible will happen while he’s away,” You sniff. “Do you not worry about the king?”

“I worry for Arthur every time he leaves on a mission,” Gwen says. “And Elyan too. But I also have faith, in Arthur and his knights. They’ve been through so much together and look out for one another like brothers,”

You nod along to Gwen’s words, trying to find in yourself the same faith that she has.

“How about this,” Gwen says. “We can dine together every night until they return. We’ll keep each other from worrying too much,”

“I like that idea,” You wipe your eyes. “Thank you, Gwen,”

The dinners arrive soon after and you periodically remind yourself to slow your eating, since the meal is so delicious.

“Perhaps I should spend more time on my own cooking,” You remark. “I only make very plain meals. But it hardly seems worth the effort to make something like this for just one person,”

“Perhaps you’ll soon invite someone over for dinner, and you can put in a little extra effort for the occasion,” Gwen replies suggestively.

You feel a warmth in your cheeks at the thought. How you long for things to go back to how they were before, to feel easy in Gwaine’s presence and to laugh with him again.

You and Gwen spend the rest of the night chatting about a number of topics, until drowsiness kicks in, the conversation lulls and you decide it’s time to go to bed. You head back to your chambers feeling much lighter than you did before. Your anxiety for Gwaine is still present, but you feel as if you can bear it a little better now.

[quasip]

Harbinger of the Apocalypse- Silas Laeratin from "One Knight Stand" by @oneknightstand-if

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that."

Decided to put my insane ramblings in the readmore because, man, I have some thoughts and I don't want my tags to look like a bloated monstrosity.

First of course I have to praise this wonderful work. The customization is astounding but what I really enjoyed was the flavor dialogue. Sometimes it's subtle but it flows so naturally that it really makes you feel that you have a person as an MC. The world and characters feel real and alive and like they've got their own thing going on. Also the EXTREME PARANOIA I get reading dialogue or looking at answers to asks is fun in a masochistic way. What are the lies? The truths? Who knows! All I know is I'm going to have a mental freak out by the end of it and I'll be thankful for the ride.

Anyway, back to my precious fae(ry) boy, too good for this world (maybe. Backstory still pending). Surely being a trusting bleeding heart will not backfire at all in the apocalyptic game of Amoung Us. Honestly the characters are all so good so I can only imagine that I'm going to scream no matter who ends up being the traitor (side eyes Merlin). At least he'll always have his trusty iron lamp and Audrey III! No, he isn't a masochist why do you ask?

Anyway, Silas Laeratin. Changeling. Taken from an abusive home and placed in the care of a loving if aging couple. I headcanon this is where he decided to be a paramedic, taking care of these people who loved him despite his weirdness and scars until their end. He wants to help people like he was helped. He wants to be human and if he stops helping, stops being near them maybe he'll forget what that means. Smoking and sleeping help dampen that worry. Reminds him of "home".

Also lucid dreaming because that sounds like a massively fae skill. Buzzing around dreams. Wish we could drag the others in front of Arthur in the dream for a Royal Vibe Check but alas. Hard way it is. Also poor Arthur man. Silas just wants to go into the dream so he can talk and hangout with the poor guy. Seems like he can use some company that isn't an unknowable horror.

Adrian is his gardening and fencing friend! Partners in nerdism and carnivorous plant propaganda. It's so fun teasing him. No crush but man is it enjoyable to see this man flustered. I think Silas would like to say outlandish things to get this man to smile. Also tease him with tongue twisters and riddles. I apologize for all the times he's going to have to potato sack Silas away from suicidally trying to help someone. Or sleeping with Merlin which is probably what he's going to do if offered in Chapter 3. The side eye Silas is going to get will be legendary. Sorry Adrian. Not my fault Merlin is stupid hot and also funny.

[southfarthing]

a gift should not lie idle in hoard

Merlin didn’t think it could have possibly gone any better – until it becomes clear that the way Arthur sees magic is very different to the way Merlin does.

-

Arthur watches him carefully.

‘You’ve had it… this whole time.’

‘Yes,’ Merlin says, his voice little more than a whisper.

Arthur isn’t shouting, isn’t backing away, isn’t even upset. He has been in a fey mood these past weeks, seeing nothing but maps and battle tactics as Morgana moved into the open once more, her attacks on Camelot now more violent than ever.

‘You’ve kept your talents hidden, of course,’ Arthur says. ‘Not practised them where they are forbidden.’

It isn’t a question. It’s a statement, leaving no space for Merlin to correct him. No room for the acknowledgement of deceit to creep in from the shadows.

Merlin’s heart pounds in anticipation. This isn’t how he imagined any of this would go, and he tentatively dares to hope.

Arthur is pacing his chamber, the hand shakily running through his hair the only indication that the knowledge has unnerved him. He is thinking something through – Merlin has known him long enough to know when Arthur is debating something in his mind – and, with the way his stops are becoming more frequent, it seems he is reaching an answer.

He finally looks at Merlin.

‘What can you do with it?’

–

Merlin is brought into council meetings and secret training sessions with Arthur’s most trusted knights. He notes the doubt in the eyes of Arthur’s – Uther’s – advisors, and he sees the confusion in the smiles of the knights. But Arthur wants him taking part, and his hope grows, strengthens, takes root.

Arthur doesn’t talk much, but things are different. Merlin understands. As war gathers on the horizon, now is not the time for old jokes. Arthur doesn’t talk much with anyone, really. Only instructs, debates, and, often at Gwen’s prompting, listens.

It is only when they are alone that Arthur looks him full in the eye and says, ‘Show me more.’

Merlin shows him force and fire and light, and dark, too. It feels unreal, letting his magic rush from him into the still air in front of Arthur. He can’t help but smile. 

Arthur nods slowly. ‘Will that stop her soldiers?’

Merlin falters. He knows the battle is imminent, but… This is his first time showing Arthur anything like this, and Arthur has said nothing about the wonder of the magic. Its warmth, its subtleties.

–

Arthur does not praise him or rebuke him. He is indifferent, Merlin realises. 

Tensions in Camelot have never been higher, and the lives of many are at stake. Arthur sees only a means with which to match Morgana’s power and defeat her forces, and Merlin is the one who must now do it. 

Again, Merlin understands. He only wishes it weren’t so.

He wishes that Arthur would look at least a little surprised when Merlin uproots trees and sets them gently back. Or that Arthur would smile at the merry fire catching despite the damp wood. Or even that Arthur would look hurt or say something about having been kept in the dark for so long.

But it never comes.

When Merlin asks what people will say when he inevitably displays his magic at the battlefield, Arthur purses his lips. Says he’ll think about it when he needs to.

–

The battle is over. Morgana is defeated, and her men are dead or fleeing or on their knees in surrender.

Merlin’s magic wilts as he stands there on the scorched grass, his body weak from the exertion. He has never done anything like this before, and he hopes he never has to again. Such death, such indiscriminate destruction… he never wants to pervert magic like this again. 

If it ever blooms in him again – if it sees him as worthy of wielding such power – he will never use it for harm.

Ahead, Arthur gives him a curt nod. His sword is bloodied, and there are the rare beginnings of pride in his glance.

-

crossposted to ao3

[lynnt1ny]

You're Magic To Me: Ch. 2

Chapter Directory | Prev. Chapter | Next Chapter

Woosan (Multichaptered; Prince!Wooyoung and Servant!San)

Full WC: 91.3k Ch. 2 WC: 3.9k

Fic Blurb:

Wooyoung didn’t know what he did to deserve such a horrible manservant. With the weight of the kingdom over his head and the constant demands of his father, he couldn’t afford to deal with this every day. But why did San have to be so bloody endearing?  After a series of coincidences, San found himself stuck at the Prince’s side, day in and day out. Of course he’d accidentally fall in love along the way. San didn’t know what to expect when he moved into the castle, but it certainly wasn’t this.  --- Aka, my Merlin-obsessed ass decided to write a Merlin-inspired fic.

The Nightmare Begins 

After a week of gathering herbs from the surrounding forests and learning about a variety of afflictions and remedies, San felt pretty accustomed to life at the castle. It was hard-going at first: He still occasionally found himself lost in the maze of corridors, but he hadn’t run into any royals or knights after the first day, so he’d call it a win. 

Hongjoong was, as he was told earlier, the perfect mentor. San couldn’t have asked for better. Hongjoong clearly loved his work, and while San couldn’t quite replicate his passion for medicine, Hongjoong was a constant source of energy and inspiration. 

Every day, San looked forward to sitting by the fire with Hongjoong in the evenings, sometimes with Yeosang popping in to say hello. It was almost familial, and San finally felt like he had carved a place for himself in the castle. 

Hongjoong took care of most of the patients that had come in so far, but San was always there, watching. He was constantly in awe of how calm and gentle Hongjoong was with those who came in. Now, he knew exactly how Hongoong got both his position and well-rounded reputation. 

However, today, Hongjoong was going to attend to the King. 

San sat at one of the desks in the chamber, a book open in front of him. He deliberately avoided Hongjoong’s eye. He hoped today would be the exception to their new routine; hopefully, today, he wouldn’t have to go with him.   

Hongjoong walked over and placed a hand on San’s shoulder, and San gave him a tentative smile. 

“I suppose I won’t get this day off?” 

“No.” Hongjoong replied. “You must be able to treat the King if something happens while I’m away.” 

“You’re going away?” San asked. A knot of worry formed in his stomach. He didn’t think he’d be able to shoulder Hongjoong’s workload so early. 

But his worry disappeared as Hongjoong laughed. “Not now. But something may happen while I’m down in the lower villages or really, anywhere else other than the castle.” He smiled sympathetically. “That’s why you’re here, you know. I can’t be everywhere at once, and in case of an emergency…” he shrugged. 

And now, that’s how San found himself trailing behind Hongjoong, a crate of supplies in his arms and a furrow between his eyebrows. 

He couldn’t believe that he was mere footsteps away from meeting King Beomseok.  

Beomseok was well known even beyond the borders of Sinsu. While nobody said he was downright cruel, he was known to have a temper. He ruled with an iron fist, and he had brought Sinsu many years of prosperity, conquering lands and expanding the kingdom to great lengths. 

Far too soon, they stopped in front of a pair of fortified doors. A clump of guards stood there, nodding to Hongjoong as they walked past. 

“Remember to address him properly,” he whispered to San. “It’d be best to leave a good first impression.” 

San nodded, and Hongjoong knocked on the door. “Kim Hongjoong, Your Majesty,” he called out. “And my new apprentice.” 

“Yes, come in,” San heard a deep voice respond, muffled by the barrier. 

The doors creaked as the guards pushed them open, standing to the side to allow them entrance. San gulped as Hongjoong walked in, and he hesitated before following behind. By the end of this, he just knew that he’d  find a way to mess this up: he’ll drop the supplies, or he’ll trip over his own feet and make a fool of himself. Or worse of all: he’ll let his mouth run away again, just as it had with the Prince. 

The thought came to him then- Wooyoung wouldn’t tell his father about what happened earlier, right? Yes, he was only an apprentice, but not only had San spilt water all over his clothes, but he called him a twat of all things. 

 ‘If my father heard you saying things like that, he’d have you flogged.’

San knew he was breathing heavily now. He hoped the weight in his arms and the flight of stairs worked as a fair excuse, but he did what he does best: overthink things until it sent him into a panic. 

If Wooyoung did tell Beomseok, something would have happened by now, right? Yes, he was definitely overthinking this. There was no way Wooyoung even knew who he was, right? He didn’t remember saying his name...

The King’s chambers were unlike anything San had seen before. Everywhere he looked, he could only see wealth and intricacies. The room itself was huge. Inside, it had a large bed in the corner, a table with neat stacks of paper adorning it, and a long dining table, gilded in gold. Wardrobes and shelves took up space along the walls, and everything was pristine. San didn’t think he’d be able to find one spec of dust. Overall, it seemed very practical, for living’s quarters, but it exuded a sense of affluence at the same time. 

The man himself sat at his table. He didn’t look like San imagined he would. The King had dark hair, like his son, and he wore simple attire at the moment. Deep-set wrinkles betrayed his age, and his eyes held a somber edge to them. Beomseok scratched thoughtfully at a trace of stubble on his chin and kept his focus on his work. The lack of attention only unnerved San even more. 

“Your Majesty,” Hongjoong began. “What can I do for you today?” 

Without looking up, Beomseok beckoned them closer and said, “Draw yourself some chairs and sit.” 

Hongjoong bowed deeply and took a chair from the dining table. San scurried after him to do the same. Before he knew it, he was uncomfortably close to the King, sitting across from him. He prayed that Beomseok wouldn’t pay him any attention.

“I’ve had the worst migraine today,” Beomseok finally said. He looked up at them then, and San felt a chill down his spine when his beady eyes landed on him. “Do you have a sufficient tonic that could help?” 

Hongjoong nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty, I do.” He gestured for San to hand him the crate of supplies. With nothing to do with his hands now, San wrung his fingers together, avoiding the King’s eyes.

“With all due respect, what has been causing you trouble, Your Highness?” Hongjoong said as he picked out a few bottles. “Learning the cause of a migraine is an easy way to fix it.”

San almost gasped at the question. It seemed too invasive to ask the King. A new batch of butterflies set loose in his stomach, and not the good kind.

However, Beomseok didn’t seem to be too bothered by the question. He even smiled at Hongjoong, like they were old friends. San shouldn’t be surprised at this point- as literally everyone had said, Hongjoong was friends with everyone, and it seemed the King was no exception. 

Suddenly, Hongjoong’s strangely calm demeanor in this situation made a lot more sense. 

“It’s my son,” Beomseok said. “He can’t seem to keep a manservant in his service. At this point, we’ve gone through all of the available servants I can trust with the job.” 

His words didn’t surprise San at all. Just from one meeting, San knew he wouldn’t want to be stuck with Wooyoung for long periods of time either. 

“It’s such a trivial matter, but it’s becoming such a nuisance that even I must get involved.” 

Hongjoong began mixing a small concoction in a cup. San vaguely recognized a few of the ingredients Hongjoong had put in the tonic, but his attention was too skewed to try to learn anything useful now.

 “Are they leaving on their own accord?” Hongjoong asked. 

Beomseok leaned back against his chair. San saw the King eyeing his fidgeting hands, and San now focused on keeping them still on his lap. 

“No, Wooyoung is getting rid of them himself. He claims they’re too boring. I’m afraid he’s set his standards too high for our working class,” Beomseok said. 

San winced, stealing another glance at Hongjoong, but the man had a smile on his face. “I’m sure he’ll find someone to take the position. There are many able-bodied men in the kingdom,” Hongjoong said.

“And here, the source of the problem,” Beomseok said. “He refuses to find a replacement. I will have to resort to finding one for him myself. It’s no job for a king.” Beomseok’s eyes turned dark for a second, and San could see a flash of rage there, so fleeting that he would have missed it if he were not paying close attention. “If I, the King himself, assigns Wooyoung a manservant, that position must stay permanently filled by that man, or consequences may be in order.” 

San’s breath hitched, the words sending a faint wave of fear over him. He understood why, though. It would be a blow to Bomseok’s reputation if Wooyoung sacked the one man the King picked out himself. Involving the King in such a trifling matter was bad enough. The whole thing made San’s head spin, and he understood the source of Beomseok’s migraine. 

“Well, I may not be able to help in the matter directly, but this is the least I can do,” Hongjoong said, handing the completed tonic to the King. “If there’s anything else I can do to help, don’t hesitate to call.” 

San felt relieved, as the conversation seemed to be ending, and they were soon to be on their way. The King only had to dismiss them, and he could go back and be anywhere but here. 

Beomseok’s gaze snapped to him, then. “Before you leave, Hongjoong, this is your new apprentice?” he asked. 

“Yes, Your Majesty.” 

Beomseok scrutinized him, his narrowed eyes sending waves of panic over San. “Does he speak?” 

San’s breath hitched and he hurried to say, “Yes, I’m Choi San.” He stumbled over the words.

Hongjoong kicked his shin. 

“Your Highness,” San tacked on at the last second. “I arrived only a few days ago.” 

“Arrived?” Beomseok lifted a dark eyebrow and looked back at Hongjoong. San allowed himself to take a deep breath with those calculating eyes off of him. 

“I met his mother during one of my visits to the lower towns,” Hongjoong said. “We’ve become close, and I can assure you of his loyalty to the crown.” 

“I’ll hold you to it,” the King said. “But I’m afraid anything he does will reflect onto you, and any form of dissent on his end will damage your position in my court.” 

Hongjoong nodded, and for the first time since they walked in, his calm demeanor broke, and San could see his shoulders tense. 

The King laughed. 

“Don’t worry, old friend. I like him already. I can tell he has many qualities an apprentice, or servant, should have.” San let himself give the King a small smile at the words, though it felt forced to him and probably came across that way as well. 

“That’s very kind of you, Your Majesty,” Hongjoong said. 

The King nodded, and after a slight pause, he clapped his hands together. “Well, I believe that is all. You’re both dismissed.” 

Both San and Hongjoong stood, the former stumbling slightly, and took their leave after a quick bow. San let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding after they crossed the doorway, the guards watching as they made their way back to the physician’s chambers. 

“Well, that could have gone a lot worse,” Hongjoong said, closing the door behind them.

“That’s for sure.” 

“You know, you don’t have to be so afraid of him,” Hongjoong said. “As long as you’re in his good graces, there’s nothing to fear.” 

San thought back to his encounter with Wooyoung. He didn’t have the best track record with royals, and he definitely didn’t want to test that with the King. 

“I’m not sure if it’ll be easy for me to stay in his ‘good graces,’” San mumbled. 

The sun had begun its descent, and the familiar room was bathed in a golden glow. San fell back into one of the cots and let out a groan. He couldn’t help but let his eyelids droop, the events of the day wearing him thin. 

“Hey, I’m going to go fetch some soup from the kitchens. Why don’t you take some time to rest?” Hongjoong said, seeming unaffected by everything. 

“Gladly.” 

 (。-`ω´-)

Wooyoung was stressed. 

The knights were doing well in training, that was for sure, but there was something missing. There was a certain clumsiness to the blows and drills today, and every wrong movement caught Wooyoung’s eye. He found himself on edge for the entirety of today’s training. 

It didn’t help that there was no one there to clean or hold his equipment.  Of course, it was technically his fault, but who could blame him? The last few servants he’d gone through were completely worthless. 

But as much as he wanted the endless drills to end, he dreaded what would come after. His father had asked to dine with him after the session, and he never looked forward to those talks. 

Wooyoung weaved his way between his sparring knights. They were practicing simple drills, but tiring and repetitive ones at that. Drops of sweat dripped down their faces, and the field was full of heaving breathing and the clang of metal. The sky darkened, and Wooyoung knew he couldn’t drag this out any longer. 

“Hold,” he called out, and around him, the knights ceased in their actions. Wooyoung felt their attention shift to him, all eyes in his direction. “That will be all for today. Get some rest. We have a lot of kinks to work out tomorrow.” 

At the dismissal, the field cleared as the men dispersed. Wooyoung caught the eye of Jongho, one of his best knights, and he gave him a slight nod. Jongho had been the only knight who had come close to beating him in combat today. Wooyoung’s arms still ached from blocking his blows. Wooyoung saw a lot of potential in him, and he knew Jongho would grow to become one of Sinsu’s best. 

Wooyoung had a tight-knit group of knights whom he trusted the most, Jongho being one of them. While all of the knights swore loyalty to the King, there were a few whose allegiance fell to Wooyoung in the end. If Wooyoung ever were to defy his father, he knew those few knights would follow him to the ends of the earth.

He gave Yunho and Mingi a slight wave as he walked past. He carried his own equipment, and again, he cursed the servants he had dismissed. 

Wooyoung had a sneaking suspicion that this was what his father wanted to talk to him about- his obvious lack of a servant would be sure to turn some heads. Not only that, but his chambers were beginning to get cluttered with no one there to clean them. 

He reached the pavilion that housed all of their training equipment and tossed everything aside. Someone else would take care of it at some point. He struggled out of the armor, fiddling with all of the buckles and straps that he never took the time to familiarize himself with. Once again, that was a servant’s job, he thought with a frown. 

He needed to stop by his rooms and freshen up before meeting his father. On the way, his thoughts began to wander. He noticed that it happened a lot in the past week- He’d be busy doing something important — whether his own duties or an order from his father — and then a certain face would pop into his thoughts, usually accompanied with a snarky voice and an impish smile. 

The truth was, he still hadn’t recovered from his encounter with Dimples (the nickname sounded so stupid in his head, but in his defense, he didn’t have much to work with). 

There was something so irritating about him, yet there was something so compelling at the same time. Wooyoung found himself looking all the serving boys in the face now, hoping to catch a familiar one, but all he could see were the same, boring, submissive eyes.

There was one time he thought he heard Dimples’ voice, but when he rounded the corner, it was just Yeosang snickering to himself in the hallway, footsteps echoing in the opposite direction. He thought about asking Yeosang about it, but he decided against it. Yeosang would definitely press him on why he was asking, and Wooyoung wouldn’t have an answer for him. 

At one point, Wooyoung entertained the idea of having Dimples as his manservant instead of the usual fodder... And then he dropped the thought immediately. If he saw those eyes first thing every morning, he’d probably go insane. 

Those eyes made him want to punch a wall. 

But for now, he needed to forget about Dimples. He needed to dine with his father, and he needed to better himself as a prince for his people (minus Dimples; he could go rot in hell). 

When Wooyoung walked into Beomseok’s rooms, the King was already eating at the dining table. 

“You’re late,” his father said. A plate had already been prepared for Wooyoung at his father’s side: bread, cheese, a few vegetables, and a slab of beef, spiced so heavily that Wooyoung could smell it from the doorway.

“My apologies, I had a few complications,” Wooyoung said. 

Beomseok narrowed his eyes, and Wooyoung gulped. He waited until his father spoke again. 

“Come. Sit.” 

Wooyoung sat at the table and dug into the food. They settled into a silence. Wooyoung wouldn’t call it a comfortable one, but the King didn’t seem too irritated at the moment. Wooyoung felt his nerves settle. Next to him, Beomseok cleared his throat. 

“Hongjoong has a new apprentice,” his father said. “Have you met him?” 

“No, I’m afraid not,” Wooyoung said. He wasn’t close to Hongjoong- not like Yeosang or the rest of the bloody castle. Hongjoong even had Wooyoung’s father wrapped around his finger. Sometimes, Wooyoung thought Beomseok wished Hongjoong were his son instead of himself, but he cast those thoughts aside as soon as they came up. “I’m sure he’ll do well as long as Hongjoong keeps him out of trouble,” he added on. 

“I doubt he will get into any. He was the epitome of a perfect servant.” 

Wooyoung’s eyes almost bugged out of his head. Coming from his father, that was high praise. Something almost like jealousy turned his stomach, but he ignored it. 

“Oh? What makes you think so?” Wooyoung swallowed around his fork, his interest peaked about the new apprentice. To catch the King’s eye was a big deal. 

“He doesn’t speak unless spoken to, and to be an apprentice for Hongjoong, he must be somewhat competent,” the King said. “What more could you ask?” 

Oh. 

So this apprentice was just like the others. 

Wooyoung felt his curiosity drain immediately. Of course, that was all his father cared about. To be honest, those were the exact qualities he had sent the others away for. 

“Why, may I ask, are we talking about the physician’s apprentice? Is there another matter you wish to discuss?” 

“That’s just the thing. You’ve exhausted all of our options,” the King said. “You know exactly where this conversation is going, Jung Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung desperately tried to think of excuses to get out of this, but the whole ordeal was useless. “But he already has a position?” he said. His voice grew squeaky the way it usually does when he gets nervous; a trait he’d spent years trying to beat out of his system to no avail. “He has a good place in court. Stripping him of that would be cruel.” 

The King shook his head. “A place in the royal household is respected, even as a servant.” He took a sip of wine. “And I think we can all agree that Hongjoong is too young to have an apprentice now. It isn’t urgent.”

Wooyoung grimaced.

“You leave me no choice, Wooyoung. You’ve rejected our best servants, and this is a problem that needs to be resolved quickly. I don’t have time to mull over the choices for you.” Beomseok’s voice grew agitated, and Wooyoung shrank back. “I am the King. This is not something I should be doing for you. If I hear that you’re unsatisfied, there will be consequences for both of you.” 

Wooyoung set his fork down, his appetite lost. “Hongjoong was clearing out his storage for an apprentice,” he mumbled. “Are you going to kick him out of his living quarters as well?” 

Beomseok scoffed. “That’s a matter he’ll have to settle with Hongjoong. I don’t have time to care.” 

Wooyoung’s fists clenched on his lap, and his nails bit into his palms. He knew he needed a servant, but this seemed… so unfair. If his father had met the apprentice only a few days later, yes, Wooyoung would probably be stuck with someone just as incompetant, but at least it would be a proper servant- not someone who had come to their kingdom to learn a dignified practice. He couldn’t help but feel a strong pang of sympathy, something his father would ridicule him for if he knew. 

“I am calling for him tomorrow and giving him one day to prepare. You can expect him the day after,” Beomseok said. 

After a sigh of defeat, Wooyoung nodded. He could never argue with his father on something like this. He’ll have to live with it. Who knows, maybe the apprentice won’t be that bad. Hongjoong picked him, after all. Wooyoung will have to make the most of it. 

“Can I at least have his name?” he asked. He stared down at the half-eaten plate. A part of him was glad his meals would once again be hand delivered, but the guilt; it wouldn’t go away. 

The King paused for a moment. “I think he said his name was San.” Another sip of wine. “Ah, yes, I remember now. Choi San.” 

Choi San. 

“Is he good looking at least?” Wooyoung asked in an attempt to lift the mood. His father didn’t have the best sense of humor, or any at all, for that matter, but he could try. 

Beomseok seemed to catch on, though, and he hummed, slouching a little in his chair. “How would I know?” 

“No apparent qualities? That’s a shame. I hope you aren’t sticking me with a troll,” Wooyoung muttered. He took his own sip of wine and scrunched up his face at the taste. 

The King sighed, and to Wooyoung’s surprise, he gave in. 

“He has black hair.” 

“And?” Wooyoung leaned forward, eager to know more about this apprentice that had left such a good impression on his father. 

“What else do you want to know?” 

“I don’t know...  black hair doesn’t tell me much,” Wooyoung said. 

Beomseok thought hard for a moment, and his next words would haunt Wooyoung through the following day.

“Well, his cheeks dimple easily, I guess. Honestly, son, I don’t know what you want from me.” 

Oh.

“That’s enough idle chit chat.” Beomseok said. He dabbed at his mouth with a handkerchief. “You’ll meet him soon enough. Now that the matter is settled, you’re dismissed.” 

Wooyoung nodded and stumbled to his feet in a daze. There’s no way. 

There’s no way. 

He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. This had to be a coincidence. There was no way Dimples was the physician’s apprentice and his... his soon to be manservant. 

But if it was Dimples…. 

Why did Wooyoung’s ears burn at the thought?

[sirgwaiine]

@goth-emrys as soon as I read your ficlet about merwaine shenanigans, this popped into my head and I had to get it out

-.-.-.-.-.-

“Merlin!”

Merlin sighs and turns to watch as Gwaine collides with the door to the physician’s quarters.

“One of these days that door is going to come off of its hinges and I’m forcing you to fix it. I have too much on my plate already,” he complains. In return, Gwaine puts his hands to his chest, a faux-butthurt expression on his face.

“C’mon, Merlin, I haven’t even said anything,” Gwaine counters, but Merlin’s just shaking his head. He should have slept in this morning.

“Gwaine, that’s the way you say my name when you get into trouble and need my help to get you out of it,” Merlin replies, “and I’m swamped right now.”

Gwaine just smirks and makes puppy eyes. Or, tries to. Instead it just looks like that time Merlin pranked him during Samhain. Merlin’s never seen eyes look so close to actually popping out of their sockets.

Merlin groans, and Gwaine mutters a little “yes” before scrambling over to Merlin. Before Gwaine can even mention the trouble he’s in, they hear a stampede clambering through the hallway, shouting angrily.

“Betting again?” Merlin asks. Gwaine just chortles, but it stops at the “Knight or not, I’m gonna kill you!” that echoes its way from the hall into the open door.

“Hide me?” is all Gwaine says in response, and all of a sudden, Merlin knows how they can both benefit from this.

“Of course,” the warlock responds, a dastardly and enthusiastic grin on his face.

At the change in mood, Gwaine’s putting his hands up, a “wait” leaving his lips, but Merlin’s already begun speaking in the old tongue. Suddenly, it’s not the Gwaine he knows standing before him, but an old man with Gwaine’s eyes, surprise and displeasure writ clear across his face.

“Hey, beggars can’t be choosers,” Merlin says, delighted, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to wipe the smirk off of his face.

Gwaine’s old body is plopping down grumpily on the patient’s cot as a horde of angry townsfolk burst through the door. Again, Merlin can’t help but think how pissed he’ll be if that thing comes off of it’s hinges.

“Where is he?” grumbles an old man at the front of the pack. Merlin turns to them with a disappointed frown on his face.

“Where is who? This is the physician’s quarters. You can’t be in here while I’m with a patient,” Merlin scolds, gesturing to Gwaine on the cot. Gwaine takes the opportunity to groan and mumble to himself, gripping his abdomen. Merlin can’t help it.

“This man has been backed up for days. You can’t imagine the pain he’s in right now,” he almost blows it with a laugh, “The last thing he needs is this pileup barging in and blasting through while he’s in such a vulnerable state.”

The townspeople look genuinely unsure at this point. On the one hand, the physician’s quarters are at a dead end in the citadel, meaning there’s nowhere else Gwaine could have gone. On the other hand, they mean no disrespect to this elderly man. Merlin decided to really sell it.

“I’ve just given him a remedy of buckthorn and senna leaf. Do you really want to infringe upon his comfort as his body releases such a great accumulation of waste?”

Merlin’s got his hands on his waist, eyebrows knit, as he watches them catch up one by one. Then, all at once, they turn and scramble out the door.

“Oi! He’s going to be making some truly terrible noises! You can’t give him his privacy?” Merlin yells after them, and the last he sees of the crowd is a hand roughly yanking the door closed. He stares at it for a brief moment, and then he’s almost doubled over with laughter as he turns back to Gwaine. Gwaine who’s trying for unimpressed, but can’t quite seem to get the corner of his mouth to come down.

As Merlin calms down from his fit, Gwaine just looks at him, eyebrows raised and arms slightly extended, palms face up.

“Thanks for the assist, mate. I’m ready to be dashing again.” Now it’s Merlin’s turn to be unimpressed.

“Sorry, I seem to have forgotten how to reverse this one,” Merlin tells him, and for a second Gwaine’s face blanches, eyes wide again, before he smooths his face.

“Very funny, change me back,” he tries again, but Merlin’s already shaking his head.

“I think there’s a lot you could learn in a night as an old man. Like how to appreciate friends. And how good a nice soup truly is-“

“Merlin, please, you know I appreciate you and all you do, you can’t leave me like this,” Gwaine begs, but Merlin refuses to relent.

“I do, but this is too much fun,” the warlock replies. “Now get out of here before I decide to put buckthorn and senna leaf in your next meal.”

At that, Gwaine eases himself off the cot and stumbles his way toward the door, groaning and muttering the whole way.

When Gaius enters the room almost an hour later, he watches his ward with concern as Merlin laughs to himself, still wiping tears from his eyes.

[allthehumanflaws]

Chapter 4

Arthur entered the throne room with Merlin trailing behind him. He asked the woman, who had come to state her problems.

"You Majesty. there have been attacks on my village. They ask not just for grains but for people as well. Anyone who dares stand up to them they just......kill him. Killed him..." She stifled her sobs and continued. 

"They have magic, Sire. They have used it in front of us. Please help us sire. They have threatened to kill every single one of us. They come each week and take grains and people alike. Please Sire! You have to help us!” she pleaded.

Arthur got down from his throne and approached the woman.

“You and your village have nothing to fear. Me and my knights will ride at dawn tomorrow. Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Leon be ready!” said Arthur and the knights nodded.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, my lord!” said the woman. “Are there any injured in your village, Cara?” asked Gaius while taking her away and she nodded. Gaius turned to Merlin and he understood.

“Sire, may Gaius accompany you? There are injured in the village. They will need help.” asked Merlin.

“Of course. He must. Oh, and Merlin. Tell George to be ready at dawn too.” replied Arthur. “George!?” exclaimed Merlin, All the knights turned to him.

“Yeah?” said Gwaine. “But am I not accompanying you? Why would you need George?” asked Merlin, already panicking. The attackers have magic. They will definitely try to kill Arthur. He has to be there. He has to! “No, you are not. You will be there with Gaius tending to the harmed. For our services we will be taking George.” replied Leon. “I can do both. I-” started Merlin. “Will not go against the King’s orders!” said Percival.

There it was again. The snapping. He was just asking a question, not defying any laws! Why the sudden change? They had been friendly since morning and now?

Foolish! I have been so foolish. They were not being ‘friendly’ they were being ‘polite’. You are not their friend. Arthur is the King of Camelot and these are the Knights. I am just a servant, thought Merlin.

“Sorry Sires. I will inform George at once. And I apologize. I shouldn’t have exclaimed like that. I have no right to object to wyour orders.” said Merlin. And then he softly added, “I am but a lowly servant.”

He started for the door and passed Arthur on the way. For a moment it seemed to him that Arthur’s face fell. 'It can’t be. You are just a servant. Not his friend that he’ll be sad because you are,' thought Merlin and left.

[sullina]

When the dust fog up. You could see Estarossa carying Mel in his lap and Zeldris checking Mel's wounds while the other commandments crowded them.

"Damn it he should have use his powers" Zeldris cursed. "Even in this rate, this kid still isn't using his demonic power to heal himself" Galand said.

"This is gonna be a bother" Deriere replied. Zeldris just sighed and gestures Estarossa to give Mel to him. "We need to get him help as soon as possible" he said as he stand up, carying his brother in bridal style

"Excuse me but who are you?" A voice asked. The TC turned their head to Elizabeth. Zeldris frowned and growled at her but replied calmly "I'm his brother while behind me are my team"

"H-his brother?"

Zeldris nodded, turning his head and looked at Meliodas. "Forget about that l, we need Meliodas get some help" he then turned to his team "Take care of that human while I take care of Meli"

The TC nodded their head.

(I really want Mel to be unconscious for a while and wake up when he fully recovered)

The commandments split into two groups.

Ideally, Zeldris would've liked to submerge his brother into one of the healing pools, but obviously that wasn't an option right now. Since they also didn't have any medical supplies suited to demons, he opted for the best he could come up with: to use his demon magic and heal his brother that way, at least until he was out of danger.

Meanwhile, the other commandments were crowding around Elizabeth and trying to explain the situation as best as they could to this Elizabeth, who seemed to have lost her memory and become human sometime in the past 3000 years. They had been watching and figured out enough to be able to navigate the situation with her, but they'd have to ask Meliodas about the specifics once he woke up.

While that was happening, Baltra had joined his holy knights on the battlefield and joined his daughters side. He was nervous to be standing right in front of elite warriors of the infamous demon clan, but kept his composure.

The Sins' attention was torn between the two groups of demons. Ban approached the smaller group that included Zeldris first, to watch and make sure they weren't harming his friend. He was shortly joined by Merlin, who floated a container over to Zeldris. "Use this, it'll help", is the only thing she said to him. Zeldris regarded the box with suspicion. "They're medical supplies I made with specifically Meliodas in mind", Merlin explained. Zeldris knew who she was, of course. Merlin the mage, extremely shady, but Meliodas seemed to trust her, so he would have to, too. "...if this is some kind of trick, I'll make sure you regret it, mage", Zeldris told her and took the contents of the box.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Feathers to Fly

Prompt: if you ever felt like continuing Feathers for the Pillows, I'd love to see the knights finding out about Merlin's wings, maybe he finally tells them... and then everyone helping him take care of his wings and exercise them (maybe flying?) I love this story so much and reread it constantly! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: merthur

Word Count: 2802

Be extremely careful what you promise the heirs of Camelot, Merlin has learned, for once you've given them your word, they will hunt you down to the ends of the earth to ensure you keep it.

That's how he feels at least when it's Arthur waking him up the next morning, insisting that they go and find out if Merlin can fly.

"Alright, alright, you great prat," Merlin grumbles as he drags himself upright, "I'm up. Now piss off."

"You never piss off in the mornings when I tell you, I don't see why I should piss off now."

"Maybe you'd have a bit more sympathy for me."

"Perhaps this will be the push you need to start showing me the proper respect in the morning."

Merlin snorts, flexing a wing and plucking a stray feather from the ground. "If I started showing you the 'proper respect,' you'd drag me to Gaius and insist something was wrong."

Arthur huffs and flicks Merlin's forehead but doesn't deny it. Smart. "Come on. Let's get some food in you."

"Why are you down here? You're the one that gets all the better food and I'm the one who has to go get it."

"Exactly. So get your lazy arse out of bed and fetch our breakfast."

Despite the arrogance and superiority oozing from his words, Arthur's hands are gentle and sure as he helps Merlin stand, motionless as Merlin re-orients himself on the floor and shakes his head a few times to clear it. His wings twitch, still not quite used to being seen so blatantly. Arthur notices—Arthur notices a lot of things, apparently—and rests a hand on his spine.

"Alright?"

"Yeah. Just give me a moment."

"Of course."

And just like that, there's no more teasing. No more roughness, no more brashness. Just Arthur, standing there, quiet as you please, letting Merlin get himself used to having someone here.

It's not as bad as he thought it would be.

"Okay," he says a few moments later, "clothes."

"Right."

Merlin stifles a noise at watching Arthur stare down the wardrobe like it's an oncoming army. "Tell you what, I'll get dressed and you can go get the food from the kitchens."

"Are you the prince now?"

"I'm the one who actually knows how to dress himself." He shoos Arthur out of the room and takes a deep breath.

Okay. Okay.

He's shown Arthur his wings. His wings that he knew about already. The wings that Arthur and Morgana and Gwen and Gaius all know about. His wings. The wings they want to see if he can fly with. The wings that he—

"Ah!"

"Merlin?" A few short footsteps later and Arthur's back, crouching down to hover around Merlin as he grabs for his shoulders.

"Sorry," Merlin gasps, "sorry, sorry."

"Don't apologize," Arthur scolds with far more concern than heat, "just let me help you. What's the matter? Do they hurt very much?"

"I molted not too long ago, they're still—" he stifles another noise— "they're still sore."

"Do you need to be carried?"

Merlin stares at him like he's grown two heads. "Who are you and what have you done with the world's biggest prat?"

Arthur cuffs him halfheartedly across the shoulder. "I'm serious, Merlin. Can you walk? Do we need to get Gaius in here so he can have a look at you? What's wrong?"

"Yeah, I'm serious too."

"What, don't think I'd care?"

"No!"

The instant the word leaves his lips, he wants to claw it back, especially when Arthur looks at him like he's just gutted a newborn pup right in front of him. He swallows, feeling the weight of Arthur's gaze and ducks away.

"…sorry."

"Oh, Merlin," Arthur's voice sighs, reaching out and carding his hand through his hair. "I don't blame you. I've not…I really messed things up, didn't I?"

"What?"

"By not telling you I knew. Or not acting on it in any meaningful way." The hand in his hair moves to tuck stray bits back from his face. "I…I didn't mean to."

Merlin takes a deep breath, slightly pushing into the touch. "I know."

"Come on," Arthur says in a much softer voice, reaching down to offer Merlin his hand, "hold on to me. I'll get you upstairs."

Standing up on its own is alright, and so is walking—once Merlin gets dressed properly, that is. Still, there is a certain kind of relief that fills him once they're out of the way of the castle halls and safely behind the doors to Arthur's chambers. Merlin lets out a long breath and his wings twitch, pulling slightly against the fabric of his tunic.

"You can let them out again if you want."

"I swear you just want to see me shirtless."

Arthur chuckles into his ear and Merlin startles. When did Arthur get that close?

"If that was all I wanted, you'd know it." And before Merlin can unpack that sentence anymore than he already is, Arthur turns to the table where the food has appeared. Has it been here the whole time? "I had another servant fetch it."

"Wait, when did you tell them to do that?"

Arthur gives him a strange look. "We passed Malwen not five minutes ago. You were standing right next to me. Did you not hear me?"

Merlin just gestures helplessly at his back. "The pain…"

Arthur sobers. "Right. Come here and sit, then, let's get food in your belly."

A strange thing, it is, to sit at the table he's served for so long and get to eat from it too. Arthur keeps eyeing his plate disapprovingly and putting more food on it.

"No wonder you're so skinny," he grumbles once when Merlin looks at him in shock after receiving two of his sausages, "just eat."

"I'm perfectly fine, actually."

"Oh, is that why I see you almost faint when you stand up too quickly on cold days?"

"Well…"

"Eat, Merlin," Arthur says, prodding him with the handle of his fork, "that's an order."

"Oh, it's an order, is it?"

But the smell of the food is intoxicating and Merlin can't exactly hide the way his mouth waters as he keeps eating. Arthur grumbles something that sounds like I told you so, but he can't quite hide the way he smiles when he thinks Merlin isn't looking.

Before they've even finished breakfast, there's a cursory knock on the door and in burst Morgana and Gwen, each looking more excited by the moment as they bustle into the room.

"So," Morgana says, throwing herself into the chair next to Merlin and ignoring Arthur's squawk of surprise, "are you excited to learn if you can fly?"

"Uh…"

"Let him eat, Morgana," Gwen says softly, even as she reaches out to ruffle Merlin's hair, "it's not every day you figure out if you can fly."

"Oh, no, please," Arthur says dryly as Morgana shrugs and helps herself to some of the food, "by all means, have what you want."

"Why, thank you. It seems your court manners are improving by the day."

"You poured your wine onto the last noble that visited, you can't talk."

"Only because he insinuated that I'd be of no use other than something to look at."

Gwen glances at Merlin and the two roll their eyes at the siblings as Merlin finishes his breakfast. No sooner has he pushed the plate away and drained the last of his goblet do all of them perk up eagerly. He scoffs. "You'd think I were coming to the kennels with a slice of meat."

"You're not a piece of meat, Merlin."

"You're a winged piece of meat. Hey!" Arthur swats at Morgana as she hits his arm. "Don't hit me!"

"Children," Gwen scolds, standing and helping Merlin clear away the dishes, "now, Merlin, is there somewhere you'd like to go?"

"Go?"

"To test your wings, of course."

"There's a large field about a league from here," Arthur says as he and Morgana stand up too, "it was supposed to be a farming field but the soil isn't quite ready yet. That should be big enough."

Another twinge in Merlin's back as the three of them begin planning. His wings shift about uncomfortably. Something coils and curdles in his stomach.

"Merlin?"

Arthur's voice comes from beside him again, his hand suddenly warm and solid on his back.

"Merlin," he asks gently, "are you alright? You don't look so good."

"I…" He swallows. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Morgana says, her attention turning to him as well, "is something wrong? Let us help."

"Why—why is this happening?"

"Why is what happening?"

"Why are you all being…so nice to me?" He fiddles with his hands as Arthur begins to rub soothing circles into his back. "This—this doesn't happen. You don't do this. Not—not like this."

"Do what, Merlin," Arthur says softly, "take care of you?"

"You're not taking care of me," Merlin spits, irritation sharpening his tongue, "you're talking about me like I'm some—some—some exotic beast brought in to be a spectacle. Like I'm some thing that you want to see perform."

"Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry," Gwen says, reahcing out for his hands. He takes hers and squeezes. "I didn't—I didn't mean for it to come off that way."

"No, neither did I." Morgana comes closer too. "I just wanted you to see that it wasn't bad. That you didn't feel like you had to hide it from us. That we accept you for what you are, you don't have to shave bits and pieces off so we'll tolerate you."

"You're my Merlin," Arthur agrees, an arm wrapping gently around his waist, "wings or no wings."

Merlin turns and buries his head in Arthur's shoulder, taking a shaky breath. His wings twitch and he winces, feathers hooking into the fabric of his tunic and pulling until it groans. Arthur makes a noise and reaches for the hem, carefully freeing it from the worst of the hangups and smoothing it down without touching the wings.

"You don't have to try flying if you don't want," he says, "but let's at least get you somewhere you can stretch, okay?"

"Okay."

"It's settled, then. Off we go."

Merlin stays close by Arthur's side as the women lead the way, chattering on about picnics and food and baskets. Arthur keeps a hand out for Merlin to take if he needs to, wary of how close others get so as not to accidentally brush against Merlin's back. They manage to get all the way down to the staircase outside the kitchens before they suddenly run into the knights.

"Sire," Leon says, taking in the four of them, "My Lady. Where are you rushing off to this morning?"

"A picnic," Morgana says, "the weather is simply perfect for it."

Out of the corner of his eye, Merlin sees Lancelot staring at him. He looks over and nods once. Lancelot smiles and steps a tad closer.

"Would you be terribly opposed," he asks in a voice meant only for him, "if you were to travel with an escort?"

"A-all of you?"

"Only if you want."

Leon, through whatever magic he has to always be perfectly observant of everything that goes on, turns to look at him. "It would be terribly remiss of us to allow the heirs of Camelot to leave the safety of the city without proper protection. Not that they could not protect themselves, of course."

"Good save, mate," Elyan mutters as Morgana raises an eyebrow.

"U-um—" Merlin glances around— "sure."

"Excellent!" Gwaine claps his hands. "I've been craving a good sandwich."

"You literally had one last night."

"Yes, and I woke up craving it again."

By the time they actually set out from Camelot, it's a proper caravan. All the knights are mounted in their signature red cloaks, Gwen and Morgana ride in the center with Gwaine and Percival behind them, Lancelot and Elyan either side. Arthur is in front, as always, with Merlin by his side, Leon just behind. The soft and sweet smell of a forest after rain follows them as they trek underneath the trees to a wide open field.

"Shall we eat first?" Gwaine takes the reins from Morgana. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving."

"Nothing wrong with putting food in a grown man's belly."

Gwen rolls her eyes fondly and helps Merlin set up the picnic as the knights tend to the horses. Soon enough everyone's sat under the sprawling canopy of a large tree, talking about everything and nothing at all.

It's…nice.

But soon enough, Gwaine tosses aside an apple core and stretches, leaning back on his hands. "So, why'd you actually want to come out here?"

Merlin chokes on his water. "Well…"

He looks up to see expectant eyes on him.

"…so I could stretch."

"Stretch?" Percival tilts his head. "Stretch what?"

"My—my wings."

Silence.

Then Gwaine smacks Percival's shoulder. "I knew it! Pay up!"

"Wait, wait, you—you what?"

Percival grumbles as he hands over two coins. "I thought it'd just be the magic, okay?"

"Magic that leaves feathers lying everywhere?"

"Merlin," Lancelot says softly when poor Merlin looks terrified that all of these people somehow figured out that he has wings, what is he going to do? "Merlin, it's alright. We only had hunches, nothing firm."

"Your secret is safe with us," Leon agrees, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, "I swear it."

Gwaine snorts. "Yeah, don't think anyone's going to be a big enough idiot to try and mess with you."

Merlin can't help but scoff at that, only to see deadly serious looks on each and every face. Suddenly a few sudden ends to visits from nearby nobles make a little more sense. "You…don't care?"

"What, that you've got wings? No, not particularly."

"Nah."

"You're you, Merlin, weird comes with it."

"You are still the same man I've grown to trust."

Leon simply shakes his head.

"…oh."

"Go on, then," Morgana encourages, "stretch if you need to."

Merlin takes a deep breath and the air thrums with energy. Slowly, carefully he reaches back and pulls the outer tunic over his head and his wings unfurl, soft motes of golden light emerging too as the air ripples around them. A few stray feathers drift down to the ground.

"Blimey," Gwaine mumbles, "that's brilliant."

"They're stunning," Elyan agrees, "really stunning, Merlin."

Percival silently hands another coin to Gwaine.

"Magnificent," Lancelot says.

"There you are," Leon hums, smiling as Merlin grins sheepishly at him, "I was wondering where you'd sent your magic off to."

"Wait, can you fly?"

"Gwaine!"

"What? The man has wings, I'm not allowed to ask if he can fly?"

"I don't know if I can fly," Merlin says before they can devolve into another argument, "I've—I've never tried."

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

What, indeed.

Filled with a burst of energy, Merlin stands and walks a few paces away from the blanket. Muffled whispers and shushing sounds come from behind him as he's sure everyone jockeys for a better view. It's surprisingly endearing.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

Magic swirls around him, the tips of his fingers beginning to tingle. He opens his hands slowly, letting it pool in the center of his palms and swirl out again, back up his arms, to his shoulders, down into the wings. They twitch and turn, flaring out in the warm sun.

He flaps them once, twice.

The magic thrums and he opens his eyes, looking up at the sky.

When he was little, a bird fell from the sky and taught him what it was like to look up.

Now, standing in a field with his wings bared for all to see, he takes a step and launches himself upward.

Gwaine hollers as his wings beat against the wind, carrying him higher, higher, higher into the bright blue sky. He stretches out his arms to feel the air rushing against them, wings brushing the top of his skin as he swirls and dives, his magic telling him when he needs to pull up, when to tuck and roll, when to spread his wings and just feel.

He can tell he's smiling by the ache in his cheeks but he can't bring himself to care.

Every little child has dreams of flying at least once. This is so much better than anything he could've imagined.

[azaleaniath]

hi! Could you do a sir leon x reader at a royal ball or banquet? ( hope you’re having a great day) -🍓

YES, YES AND YES!

First of all, thank you for your request, anon!

I loved the idea, had to write it asap 💜 I had a good day, thank you! Hope you did as well

I hope you like it, keep em prompts coming~

_______________

Sir Leon x reader

Banquet

includes: fluff, dancing, flirting, cuddling

word count : 2.6k

_______________

It's almost been an hour that you had spent sitting in front of your mirror, checking every detail about you.

Was the makeup too much?

Was the hairstyle?

You opened your hair again, stuck it up into a loose bun, opening it again. In distress you sighed, before a knock on the door ripped you from your thoughts.

With small steps, your maid entered, bowed quickly and stared at you through the mirror with a bright smile.

"My lady, you look absolutely gorgeous" her voice was almost a whisper.

"Really? You think I should add more lipstick? Am I wearing too much perfume? I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with my hair..."

She giggled, then came another step closer. With a few skilled hand movements the maid helped to put your necklace on.

"Not at all, my lady. You'll be the talk of the town after today's banquet. I ensure you, everything is perfectly in place."

As you got up from your chair, you turned to her with a wide, excited smile. "You're so sweet, dear."

Once more you checked yourself in the mirror, from every angle.

Internally bursting by excitement, you caught expression in the mirror.

"God, I look like a douchebag with that smile..."

"Of course not, lady (Y/N). You have every reason to shine that bright."

The maid checked your back, looking for imperfections, but there were none. "My lady, I'm certain people are waiting for you. Is he going to pick you up or-"

She didn't even get to finish her sentence before someone knocked on the door again.

"Speak of the devil" you mumbled, your smile not ceasing one bit.

"Lady (Y/N), may I enter?"

Your maid quickly bowed once more, wished you a wonderful night and disappeared through the back door of your room.

Just the sound of Sir Leon's voice brought goosebumps to your skin, all over your body. With your heart nearly jumping out of your chest you cleared your throat silently.

"Of course, come in."

The tall knight didn't waste one second and opened the door, yet all of his actions stopped when he saw you.

His lips parted while he mustered you from head to toe, before he blinked a few times. Your eyes looked into his for a brief moment.

"You look wonderful, my lady." One of his hands reached out for yours, and once he got a hold of it, he placed a gentle kiss on top of it.

You took a deep breath, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

"Thank you, Sir Leon", you giggled silently, "as do you."

The man looked down at himself and huffed.

"I'm just wearing my armor, as usually."

You observed his shoulder plates, his chainmail and cloak.

"But you wear it with so much pride. I couldn't think of anyone else who looks more stunning than you in that armor, sir."

With a shy smile, his eyes drifted away for a moment. "I'm flattered, my lady." Leon held his arm out for you to support yourself. "We wouldn't want to keep the king waiting, would we now?"

A simple headshake from you followed before you thankfully took the offer and let him guide you towards the throne room.

Last time you had seen this room, the decorations had just begun. Now, the entire hall was decked with flowers and colorful bouquets, ribbons and garlands.

The Pendragon flags hung from the ceiling, multiple giant chandeliers were lit. Along the walls stood tables with small but delicious appetizers, jugs of wine and deserts.

In between all the people you caught sight of your maid standing next to Merlin. She pointed at you discretely, whispered something to him with a big smile and his face simply copied his expression.

You giggled and held closer to Leon. He looked down at you, also smiling. He had seen the interaction between both servants as well.

"I'm sure your maid is grateful to have such a wonderful mistress."

Once more you blushed, lowering your head a bit.

"She's a good friend of me by now. I noticed that you and your knights also grew very fond of Arthur's manservant?"

Leon sighed, his head dwelled in memories for a second.

"He has proven himself a loyal servant. We owe him a lot."

"As do I to my maid."

It was only thanks to her you were standing here with Leon now.

It was simple: Merlin knew Leon had layed his eyes on you, and your maid knew that you had layed yours on him as well. With that information exchanged, Merlin got him to ask you out for today's event.

And even if you two didn't say anything about it, you both knew that all of this was only thanks to these two servants.

"Ah, sir Leon, lady (Y/N)!"

Arthur's voice called out from the crowd, making his way over to you.

"Good to hee you here. My lady." He lowered his head ever so slightly, then looked at the knight with a proud face.

"Will you join us for a cup of wine and some appetizers?" he asked, rearranging his gloves.

Leon looked down at you, awaiting an answer from you. He wanted to leave the choice open for you.

After quickly exchanging looks with both of them, you agreed and followed the king to his table.

Multiple familiar faces had joined them already; Gwen, Elyan, Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot sat around the table. After a quick greeting, Lancelot leaned over the table slightly.

"Lady (Y/N), have you eaten anything already?"

You answered with a shaking head. "Not yet, we just arrived."

Your maid and Merlin hurried over to you as they watched both of you sitting down. They served you and your companion some of the snacks from the buffet as well as a cup of the finest wine each.

She looked at you, quickly peeked over to Leon and back at you. Her eyes lightened up in excitement. Since she had served you for many years already, silent communication was something you both had mastered.

You glanced at her, wiggled your eyebrow once and turned back to the group of knights. Slowly shaking your head, you mumbled something so quietly, nobody else was able to hear it.

Some time passed.

"So, lady (Y/N)", Percival started, and your eyes looked up to him. He sat right across the table next to Elyan.

"May I ask how it came to you accompanying sir Leon tonight?"

At the question you almost spit your wine back into the cup, but Leon took over, chimed in and answered for you.

"Actually, I asked her if she would like to join me tonight."

Percival could barely hide his smirk and you swore, Leon blushed a bit.

He took a sip of wine as well, then peeked over to you.

Your heart almost skipped a beat at the way he looked into your eyes.

"Are you enjoying the evening so far?" Lancelot asked as he saw that the mood shifted rather unpleasantly for you two.

"Very much so, sir. I hope you do too, you all earned yourself an evening off after all that hard work."

Leon pulled his cloak back a bit, revealing his sheathed sword.

"I'm afraid there is rarely a day off, my lady. We must be ready at any given moment."

"Not you, Leon", Arthur chimed in as well, "You enjoy your evening with lady (Y/N). It would be a waste of her time, wouldn't it? At least this one night, you just have fun."

Leon smiled and bowed quickly.

This was your chance.

"Maybe I should accompany you more often in the future then, sir."

You swallowed after speaking, hoping for a positive reaction. Yet, since you had basically bursted it out in excitement, you quickly noticed multiple guests on the table staring at you in silence.

The knight next to you lowered his cup and placed it onto the table next to his plate. His curls bounced ever so slightly as he turned towards you.

"I would be delighted."

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed again.

Across the table you heard Gwen talking to her husband, then they both got up.

"Taking our queen for a dance?" Gwaine asked with a grin, knowing Arthur wasn't a big fan of dancing. He did all of this for his guests only. Tonight, there were a few nobles of befriended kingdoms present as well.

"As I promised her. Leon, lady (Y/N), you should join us."

Soon after that, you looked at the knight, and he looked at you.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked softly, his upper body shifted towards you.

You bit your lower lip, answering with a slow nod. It didn't take him much more of an answer to get up and reach his hand out to you.

After getting up with his help, Leon gently lead you into the middle of the hall, into the midst of all these dancing couples. Arthur and Gwen were dancing almost next to you.

You had practiced dancing with your maid in your chambers in preparation for tonights event, but standing in front of Leon now was no comparison to that.

One of your hands rested on his broad shoulder. He reached out for your free hand, placing the other one on your waist. The smile on his face was pure, but full of emotions.

As the music was changing, you gave him another small nod before he started guiding you through the room, your body close to his.

It felt like a dream coming true as he swung you around to the music. No, this was nothing compared to all the practice.

The knight's eyes locked with yours for quite a while, until a curly strand of hair fell in his face. This pulled you back from your thoughts. Averting your gaze, you looked around the room with a wide grin that you tried to hide from Leon.

Was it better to have his knights and your servant noticing it instead? Probably not.

Yet, if you would look at this man's eyes for more than 5 seconds straight, you'd involuntary let your intrusive thought take upper hand and just kiss this picture perfect man right here on the spot, in front of everyone.

A quick glance to Gwen and Arthur helped you breaking the silence. Not that it was awkward, but you just loved talking to Leon.

"They look truly amazing, don't they?"

For a mere second, the knight looked at them, then nodded approvingly.

"They do. But as do you."

You noticed his eyes wandering down your neck.

"The necklace you're wearing, It suits you well."

"Thank you, sir Leon."

He secretly adored the tone of your voice when you called out his name.

"It's an anchient family treasure. I must never lose this."

As soon as you finished your sentence, the knight pulled you even closer.

"Then I'll make sure nobody will get to lay their hands on it."

Now that you were so close to each other, you turned your head away. As much as you desired to just rest your head against his shoulder, you couldn't just do this. At least, not yet.

"Are you enjoying your evening so far?" His voice was close to your ear. It sent shivers down your spine immediately while he got a smighly firmer grip of your waist and you breath hitched.

"I do, thanks to my wonderful company" you breathed out quietly, but he was able to understand and smiled to himself.

In the blink of an eye, one entire hour passed. The two of you were still standing in the middle of the room, enjoying each other's company as you danced through the hall.

"Would you like to take a break?" He asked in a low voice, but you shook your head slowly.

"Not unless you would like that, sir Leon. I could continue dancing with you until the first rays of sun touch the land in the morning."

"That sounds lovely. But how about we pause for a few minutes and I get us a drink?"

You agreed and stopped slowly. Leon also stopped, then lead you back towards the table. Gwen signalled you to come closer, so you did.

"Excuse me for not spending much time with you."

The queen huffed and shook her head.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. I just wanted to tell you that you look beautiful."

With a shy smile you looked down at yourself. "My maid helped me choosing this dress."

Once more, Gwen huffed.

"It is wonderful, indeed, but I was talking about you two. Together."

Arthur leaned in and eavesdropped on the conversation. You blushed at thr queen words, quickly looking back to Leon who came closer with two cups of wine, handing yours over.

With a thanking nod you got a hold of your cup and took a sip.

"So, Leon, I guess I'll cut you out for training in the morning." The king brought himself in.

"Why is that, sire?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and pointed at the two of you standing in from of him and his queen.

"I'm sure you two have a long night ahead?"

Leon took a sip of his cup, lowering his hands afterwards. He quickly looked over to you, still smiling.

"We certainly do, sire. But if you would please excuse me," he took one more sip and placed his cup on the table again.

"Time is flying by."

He placed his arm around your waist so you quickly took another sip as well and put your cup down next to his.

"It is, especially if you're having a great time."

Arthur's face shifted to a cocky grin as he saw how you interacted.

Soon after, both of you disappeared in the crowd again, close to each other, dancing through the hall, eyes locking over and over again.

Close as you both stood, you could feel his breath on your skin. Even if it tickled a bit, it felt wonderful having him so close to you. And the later it got, the more you made use of the excuse that you were getting exhausted.

"Lady (Y/N)?" his voice was gentle as his touches.

"Yes, Sir Leon?"

Over the evening, his smile had not lessened one bit either.

"If you are getting tired, you can put your arms around my neck."

Within a second, you did as he offered. Without even intending to, one of your hands sank into the back of his neck and into his curls.

A relieved sigh escaped his lips as he realized he was not being too forward.

As time passed, you also rested your head against his shoulder. "Is this really comfortable?"

You simply blushed and smiled to yourself as his arms found their way tighter around your waist.

"You'd be surprised."

His fingers began to draw circles on your back and you cuddled yourself closer against the knight.

Oh how long you had dreamed of this.

You heard a laugh coming from the knight's table and decided to peak over there with one eye. Sir Gwaine imitated you and Leon dancing so close.

"I hope the other knights won't bother you after tonight..." you mumbled to him, he sighed and swallowed.

"My lady", Leon almost whispered in your ear, "Whatever they will say, it means nothing to me. Unlike this very moment."

You closed your eyes, enjoying the knight's presence to the fullest.

"I'm glad you joined me today. That is all that matters."

A moment of pleasant silence followed before you spoke to the man again.

"Thank you for your company, sir Leon.

I hope this won't be the last evening we share?"

"Not at all", Leon whispered while continuing to draw circles on your back. "If it is in your interest as well, this is only the beginning."

[legends-of-time]

Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 25: The Witchfinder

Masterlist

Anne's POV

Anne had not very reluctantly agreed to join Merlin in the woods collecting firewood in the forest. She cannot help but want to spend time with him despite nothing seeming to happen between them. Though she cannot be imagining things as she remembers Amelia smirking at her when she asked if she could go to the forest to help Merlin.

Why Anne I never knew you were so interested in firewood.

It is not her typical job as, unlike Arthur, Amelia does not make her do any of the more menial jobs if she does not have to.

Anne is clearly too caught up in her thoughts as she turns and notices that Merlin is no longer behind her. She frowns. Where could he have gone?

Suddenly a woman, Cathryn, collides with her. "Oooff!" Anne exclaims.

"Oh, Anne, thank goodness!" Cathryn cries. "We need to see the King!"

She begins pulling her arm but Anne stops her. "Wait, Cathryn! Cathryn! What is it? What is wrong?"

"The smoke! The smoke was alive, I tell you." Anne feels a sinking feeling in her stomach. "It took the shape of a running horse! There's sorcery here! We must tell the King!"

Anne looks behind her to see a distraught Merlin as well as others who had been in the forest gathering around them. She realises there is no use in trying to keep this quiet and lets Cathryn drag her to the King.

——

They are in the Throne room, in front of the Court. Arthur leans on the back of the chair from behind, Uther standing in front of his throne and Morgana and Amelia sitting on his left.

Anne is forced to stand by Cathryn due to the woman's relentless begging, so she stands there in the centre of the room as Cathryn explains what she saw.

"It was sorcery you saw, and you're certain of it?" Uther more demands than questions.

"Yes, Sire." 

Anne sees Amelia is looking at her in concern but she is too panicked to take any comfort from Amelia's empathy. Anne can only think of what Merlin and Gaius' faces look like at this time as they stand behind her.

"And you swear this before your King?"

"I swear it."

"Perhaps your eyes deceived you, a trick of the light," Arthur suggests.

"The smoke was alive, I tell you. I feared for my life." Cathryn insists.

"I thank you for bringing this to my attention. Your loyalty will not go unrewarded." Uther says.

"Thank you, Sire." 

A Knight escorts her out. Anne takes the opportunity to dart to Gwen's side, who holds her hand comfortingly, not knowing the true reason for Anne's panic.

"It cannot continue." Uther states.

"I will hunt down those responsible, Father. I promise they will not escape unpunished." Arthur says.

"No. Stronger methods are called for. Send for the Witchfinder." Courtiers gasp. Anne sees Amelia frowning as if trying to think about or remember something while Morgana looks terrified. Who is the Witchfinder? It does not sound good.

"Sire, is it necessary to resort to such measures?" Gaius asks.

"The Witchfinder is a trusted ally, Gaius. His help will be invaluable."

"Of course," Gaius says though he does not look happy.

——

Amelia's POV

The Court disbands after Uther's announcement. Amelia, despite wanting to look at her notes for anything, follows the rest of the gang, Anne, Gaius and Merlin, into Gaius' Chambers.

"How many times, Merlin?! How many times must I drive it into that thick skull of yours that your magic is a secret to be guarded with your life?! What were you thinking?!" Gaius rants as he storms into the room with the rest of them trailing after him.

"You have really done it now Merlin," Amelia says, rubbing her head. She feels a headache coming on.

"I... I wasn't thinking." Merlin splutters.

"Well think, boy, think!" Gaius shouts.

"M-maybe shouting isn't helping?" Anne says, looking panicked. Amelia doesn't blame her, Gaius is proper angry but then again he has every right to be.

"It was just a bit of fun." Merlin defends.

"In a public place!" Amelia exclaims.

"It was magic and it was seen. And you!" Gaius points at Anne. The girl's eyes widen fearfully. "Should have stopped him!"

"He left my sight! How could I?" Anne defends.

"It's not her fault!" Merlin exclaims and Anne sends him a small smile of thanks. "And you're right. I'm sorry."

"You must hide the book. Anything that can connect you to sorcery in any way." Gaius says, now sounding calmer.

"What? Now?"

"Yes, now, Merlin. The man that Uther has sent for, I know him." Gaius states.

"The Witchfinder?" Anne asks.

"Hmm, some know him by that name. I know him as Aredian. He is a force to be reckoned with." Gaius warns.

"But I'm not a witch. Look. No dress or anything." Merlin jokes but he is met with silence.

"I'll get the book." Merlin mumbles.

——

This is not good, so not good. Her notes warn her of the Witchfinder; a man who actually seems to be able to identify the actual Sorcerers but fakes evidence to catch them. She wishes she could know how they stop him but irritably her notes do not say nor who he goes after though she knows that she, Morgana, Merlin, Anne and maybe Gaius are all at risk.

Morgana asks Amelia and Anne to join her and Gwen in the former's Chambers. Amelia goes without question, she knows that Morgana is worried about the arrival of this Witchfinder and Amelia doesn't blame her.

They watch from Morgana's window as Aredian shows up in the Square at night with a large horse-drawn cage. A Guard, Patrick, approaches him.

"Is that him?" Anne whispers as if the man might hear them.

"Yes." Morgana murmurs.

"What's that cage for?" Gwen asks.

"Probably best not to think about it," Amelia replies quietly.

Aredian then looks up at the window. They gasp and step away from the window in fear.

——

By the next day, Aredian has already begun his work and interviews Cathryn and then Merlin as she had named him as a witness but Anne has not needed to be interviewed as she had not seen the magic itself.

Before long Aredian has more witnesses, which he presents before the Court in the Throne room.

"Speak, do not be afraid," Aredian commands the woman on the far right.

"I... I was drawing water from the well, Sire, when I saw them: faces in the water. Terrible faces, like people who were drowned, screaming. Screaming." The woman whimpers.

"Mmmh." Aredian puts a comforting hand on the woman's shoulder though Amelia wonders how comforting it really is. He moves to the next woman. "Tell them what you saw."

"A goblin dancing on the coals. it was dancing in the flames, and it spoke, Sire. My heart near stopped for fear of it." This next woman is calmer but still sounds fearful.

"As you've heard, My Lord, the incident in the woods was only the beginning, hmm?" Aredian speaks as he walks over to the next woman, nudging her to speak.

"There was a Sorcerer, Sire, in the Square. There were creatures jumping right out of his mouth." The woman says.

"And what manner of creature?"

"Toads, Sire. Great green, slimy things as big as your fist." The woman cries.

"The Sorcerer laughs in your face. Even now magic flourishes on the streets of Camelot." Aredian announces.

"I can scarcely believe it," Uther mutters in shock.

"Yet it is the truth, My Lord. Fortunately, I've utilised every facet of my craft to bring this matter to a swift resolution." Aredian answers. The Court gasps. Amelia latches onto Morgana's hand and clings to it with Morgana doing the same with equal strength.

"The Sorcerer? You have a suspect?"

"Oh, I do, My Lord. I regret to say, they stand among us in this very room." Amelia's breath hitches in panic while Morgana's is heavier. Aredian turns to the Court. "My methods are infallible, my findings incontestable! The facts point to one person and one person alone: the boy, Merlin!"

Amelia lets out a huge breath that it was not her or Morgana but is then filled with a new panic.

Arthur's doubtful voice cuts through the tension as Amelia sees others look around in disbelief. "Merlin? You can't be serious."

"This is outrageous! You have no evidence!" Gaius exclaims.

"The tools of magic cannot be hidden from me. I am certain that a thorough search of the boy's Chamber will deliver us all we need." Aredian continues, unaffected by the reception to his accusation.

"Merlin?" Uther utters.

"I have nothing to hide from him." Merlin declares.

"Very well. Guards, restrain the boy. Let the search begin." Two Guards pull Merlin out of the room.

——

An amulet of enchantment is found in Gaius' Chambers but to save his ward, Gaius takes the blame and declares it is his, freeing Merlin and getting himself chucked into the Dungeons. Amelia knows, due to her notes, that the amulet is just a ploy by Aredian but she knows there's no point in saying anything until they can counteract anything Aredian throws at them.

Aredian's 'interrogation' of Gaius begins. Amelia worries about how ruthless this man is and inconsiderate he probably is concerning Gaius' age.

Kilgharrah provides no help other than not to do anything self-sacrificing when Merlin goes to see him.

Amelia worries that Gaius' treatments for her and Morgana will soon come up causing them to fall under suspicion. Then a Guard arrives to lead her to Aredian's Dungeon Chambers.

She passes Gaius' Cell. Their eyes catch and Amelia sees that he is worse for wear. This doesn't help the terror rising up inside her.

As Amelia is seated, she can't help but get even more terrified as Aredian walks around behind her, picking up and fiddling with different chains as he speaks, "There's no need to be concerned, My Lady. I won't detain you long. There's just a small detail I wish to clarify." He sits behind the desk that is in front of her. "Now, it's true, is it not, that you have received treatment for nightmares?"

Amelia clears her thoughts, trying to stay calm. "I feel like I should tell you this, I do apologise, but I had an accident to do with my head a couple of years ago. My memory is not what it was." She can't help but notice her voice is a little shaky.

"That is no problem, I'm sure you'll do your best." Aredian dismisses. "But you do receive treatment?"

Amelia nods, not wanting to speak this time so as not to reveal everything. Aredian notes this down.

"And it was Gaius, the Court Physician, who administered these treatments? These potions?" Aredian probes.

"Yes." She says but realises that she had barely made a sound.

"I'm sorry, could you speak up?" Aredian then waves his hand in the direction of his ear and makes a slight laugh.

"Yes." Amelia sounds louder. Aredian writes something.

"Thank you. Now, you may go."

Amelia smiles in relief and gets up to leave.

Aredian's voice stops her from walking too far. "You don't happen to know what was in these potions, I suppose?"

"Oh, no," Amelia says with a smile now feeling better than before.

"No. No, of course not. You're not a Physician, after all." Aredian jokes and Amelia lets out a slight laugh in response. She continues walking but he stops her again. "So, for all you know, these potions could have been magical, your dreams the product of an enchanted elixir."

"Oh, I had these dreams before Gaius started treating me." Amelia quickly explains, not wanting to throw Gaius under the bus.

"But these dreams, have they got better or worse since Gaius began treating you?"

Amelia doesn't want to tell the truth as it will look bad for Gaius but she doesn't want to lie as she'll probably be caught and what good will that do. "They haven't gotten better."

"As I thought. Thank you. You've been most helpful."

Amelia nods and leaves feeling probably more anxious than she did before. She passes Morgana on her way out and tries to give the other woman her best smile but she knows it probably doesn't work looking at Morgana's face.

——

Aredian throws Gaius to his knees before the Court. Amelia, from her usual spot in Morgana's left, winces at the sight of the man who looks near the end of his tether.

"Confess! Confess!" Aredian harshly demands. Amelia sees Merlin trying his best not to cry and Anne holding onto his arm to either restrain or comfort him, she doesn't know.

"I... I am a Sorcerer, Sire." Gaius gasps. "I am responsible for conjuring the smoke. I'm guilty of practicing magic in Camelot, the goblin, the faces in the well, I... I am the Sorcerer who conjured the toad from his mouth."

"You've betrayed me, Gaius." Uther declares, standing. "Betrayed your friends. And above all, you've betrayed yourself. By the laws of Camelot, I must sentence you to death." 

Amelia gapes at him in shock. How can he believe this?!

"The Sorcerer will be purged of his magic by means of fire! He shall be burnt at the stake tomorrow at dawn! Bear witness and heed this lesson!" Aredian announces. Guards drag Gaius out of the room.

Merlin charges at Aredian. "You're a liar." He cries. Arthur gets up and restrains him, dragging him from the room.

"Guards!" Uther calls.

"You're a liar!"

"I'll deal with this," Arthur says.

——

The pyre is being built in the Square for Gaius to burn on tomorrow but it seems Aredian is not finished as he pulls Morgana into an interrogation. Amelia knows he'll probably come for her next. She finds Gwen and Anne and they hurry to Gaius' Chambers where Merlin will be.

They burst in and find the person they are looking for.

"Merlin?!" Anne cries. "He won't let go! He won't stop!"

"What happened?" Merlin questions urgently.

"The Witchfinder's questioning Morgana again. Maybe me next." Amelia explains. "We're worried, Merlin. She's close to breaking point."

"Yeah, that's what he does." Merlin paces as he thinks out loud. "He breaks you down and in the end, you confess whether you're guilty or not."

"What do you mean?" Gwen asks. 

Amelia looks at them hopefully. Finally, they are getting somewhere.

"Are you saying Gaius was set up?" Anne asks.

"Yes. Aredian planted that amulet." Merlin realises.

"But why would he do such a thing?" Gwen questions.

"Aredian is paid to catch Sorcerers. Maybe he doesn't care whether someone is guilty or not. Maybe he gets confessions by lying, by planting evidence, just as long as he gets a confession, he gets his money."

"But even if this is true, what can we do without proof?" Gwen wonders.

"Get some." Amelia declares. Merlin turns and bolts out of the room.

Anne huffs. "I'll go after him." She runs out of the room.

"Sweet, are they not?" Amelia remarks to Gwen. The woman laughs but doesn't disagree.

——

Anne's POV

Running after Merlin ends with Anne colliding into his back.

"Ooof." He exclaims.

"Sorry!" Anne blushes as she looks down to the floor.

"Um... it's okay." Anne looks up at him and he gives her a reassuring smile. "Come on." Anne grins back and follows.

They enter Aredian's Guest Chambers and begin snooping around. Merlin almost knocks something on the desk, causing a loud clatter noise.

"Merlin!" Anne hisses, her earlier embarrassment forgotten.

"Sorry!"

They lift up bits of paper and pillows, not finding anything until Merlin attempts to open the cupboard. But it is locked so Merlin whispers, "Tospringe."

Merlin's spell unlocks a cupboard and they find flower petals. Merlin picks some up, they stare at it but then hear someone coming

Anne quickly remakes the bed with a spell. "Dæfte þæt bedd."

They then dart under the bed to hide. Anne tries not to think about how close they are as Aredian enters. The man's movements slow as he walks over to the cupboard, which Anne realises they left unlocked. Aredian then yanks back a curtain. He then moves to stand right in front of the bed. Anne holds her breath, fearing he might hear it. She breathes a sigh of relief once Aredian walks out of the room.

——

Amelia's POV

Anne and Merlin return with a petal they had found in Aredian's Chambers and soon all four of them begin sifting through Gaius' books to try and find anything on it. While this isn't fun, Amelia feels pleased that they are one step further into stopping the Witchfinder.

"This is hopeless!" Gwen exclaims in frustration.

"We have to keep going." Anne insists.

"She's right," Merlin says.

"We don't even know if this flower means anything." Gwen points out.

"No we don't, but we cannot give up." Amelia insists.

"Here. Belladonna." Merlin suddenly says pointing at a page. They all hurry over to have a look.

""For the alleviation of ulcers, allergies, and muscular inflammation..."" Gwen reads. "This is hopeless."

"No, wait." Amelia pushes forward to read another part. "Listen, "Under certain conditions, a tincture of the flower can produce hallucinations.""

"So?"

Anne scoffs. "Aredian's witnesses. It wasn't magic they were seeing, it was visions."

"It makes sense, if he's faking the evidence." Gwen realises. "But how can we prove it?"

"No, Aredian's too clever to have given the tincture to them directly. The witnesses, they must've got it from someone else." Merlin says.

"They could've been getting it from anyone!" Amelia whines.

"Is there anything, anything at all that these people had in common?" Merlin wonders.

"They were all women?" Anne suggests.

"No, that doesn't tell us anything." Merlin dismisses.

"Yes, it does. What's the one thing only women would buy?" Gwen prompts. "Things to make them look beautiful."

Oh.

They all run out of the room with Gwen leading.

——

Gwen leads them through the Lower Town until they reach the Apothecary and knocks on the door.

An older man steps out. "Gwen? Anne? My Lady?" They step inside.

"Do you sell a tincture of Belladonna?" Gwen immediately asks.

"What's this all about?" The Apothecary wonders.

"Please, it's important." Anne insists.

The Apothecary blinks at them surprised but turns to search through his shelves. "Well, I, I think I've got some somewhere, but what you'd be wanting with eye drops in the middle of the night, I really don't want to know."

"Eye drops," Amelia mutters. That's how!

"Yes. Women use them to make their eyes more beautiful." The Apothecary explains, showing them the bottles.

"Where did you get this?" Merlin demands.

"Well, my usual suppliers." Comes the claim.

"So you did not get it from someone else?" Anne questions.

"Of course I'm sure. If it's all the same to you, I'd like to get some sleep." The Apothecary replies.

"It was Aredian who gave you the Belladonna, wasn't it?" Gwen states more than asks.

"Don't know what you're talking about." The Apothecary dismisses fearfully.

"But you know that Gaius is going to be executed tomorrow, don't you?" Merlin probes.

"That has nothing to do with me."

"Look buddy," Amelia says drawing his attention, "it has everything to do with you!"

Anne speaks up then, "Aredian's witnesses saw visions produced by the Belladonna in these eye drops! If we can prove this, we have a chance of saving Gaius."

The Apothecary sighs. "He forced me to sell it. He, he said he'd kill me if I said anything to anyone."

"It was him? It was Aredian?" Gwen looks for confirmation.

"Yes, it was him."

They all let out various thank yous as they leave.

——

Merlin grabs the tincture and Belladonna petals. "That's it. We've got everything we need."

"But is it enough?" Gwen wonders.

"We've got a witness as well. Surely that's enough?" Merlin replies.

"It's still just our word against Aredian's!" Gwen insists.

"Gwen, we don't have a choice! By dawn tomorrow Gaius will be dead." Anne says desperately.

"She's right, we've only got one chance at this," Amelia admits. "We've got to give Uther something he cannot deny cause even he will not listen to me. We need something not even Aredian can talk his way out of."

Merlin nods. "I'll be as quick as I can. Anne do not follow!" He runs out of the room.

"Might as well," Amelia says. "God knows what he's up to." The other two women laugh.

The sun has risen by the time Merlin returns.

"Where have you been?" Amelia exclaims.

"It's done. Everything's in place." Merlin tells them.

"But it's too late! Gaius has already left the Dungeons!" Anne points out to him.

"Then... then we'll have to delay the execution," Merlin suggests.

"How?" Gwen asks.

"Arthur. I'll speak to Arthur." Merlin answers.

"No. Leave Arthur to me." Gwen insists. They run out of the room to the Main Square.

——

The crowd is already gathered around the pyre when they arrive and Aredian is dragging Gaius to it. They push and shove through the crowd to get to Arthur who is standing in the inner circle surrounding the pyre.

Amelia stops with Anne and Merlin beside her once they get close enough to the pyre while Gwen pushes further forward to get to Arthur. Amelia can't hear what they are saying and watches them anxiously as Gaius is tied to the stake.

"Come on Arthur. Come on." She murmurs to herself.

Aredian lights the torch and brings it over to the pyre and begins to lower it to light the pyre.

"Wait!" Arthur suddenly shouts. Amelia breathes a sigh of relief.

——

Merlin stands in front of the Court in the Throne room as he presents the evidence they had found.

"Sire, the witnesses saw nothing but hallucinations induced by the Belladonna in these eye drops." Merlin hands one over to Uther who's standing with Aredian next to him. Amelia gives Merlin a smile of encouragement from her seat next to Morgana.

"And you bought this Belladonna from this man?" Uther gestures to the Apothecary. The earlier three witnesses all nod.

"Where did you get it from?" Uther asks. The Apothecary looks around anxiously. "Don't be afraid, no harm will come to you here."

"The Witchfinder. He gave them to me." The man confesses. The Court mutters in shock.

"Did he tell you what it was for?"

"No. Only that if I did not sell it, he'd have me burnt at the stake." Similar muttering arise again.

"How do you answer to these accusations?" Uther questions Aredian.

"They're absurd. The boy has clearly concocted these lies in the hope of saving his master." Aredian defends.

"Then you won't mind if we search your Chamber, will you?" Merlin quips.

"Silence!" Uther shouts. "You have no authority here!"

"Father... let's settle this once and for all." Arthur walks off the platform to stand by Merlin. Amelia notices a look shared between him and Gwen and she smiles to herself. "If what Merlin says is wrong, he must bear the consequences. But if there is some truth in what he says..."

"I have nothing to hide." Aredian declares.

——

Amelia, Aredian, Merlin, Arthur, Uther, and Morgana watch the Guards upend Aredian's Chambers.

"You're wasting your time." Said man says.

"The cupboard over there." Arthur orders. A Guard opens it and dozens of amulets drop out, and a stash of Belladonna tincture is inside. Wow, Merlin has been busy.

"These things don't belong to me!" Aredian exclaims as he walks over to the cupboard and kicks the amulets. "This is a trick!" He coughs while Arthur draws his sword as Aredian walks toward them. "That boy plots against me!" Aredian chokes and uses the table to hold himself up. He tries to clear his throat and spits out a toad. Amelia gapes at the sight in disgust.

"Sorcerer!" Uther cries and draws his sword, Guards behind him joining in. 

Aredian then grabs a dagger and, before any of them can react, Morgana as well and holds the dagger towards the rest of them when they try to step forward.

"Aredian, think carefully about what you're doing. You will never escape from Camelot alive." Uther warns.

Aredian holds the dagger nearer Morgana's throat. Amelia watches with wide eyes wishing she can do something or at least have her dagger but annoyingly she has left it in her room. "I will if you value the life of your ward. Hmm?"

The handle of the dagger heats up then and Aredian drops it, freeing Morgana, who runs into Amelia's arms. Amelia looks back as she holds onto Morgana and raises an eyebrow at Merlin, who shrugs very innocently.

Aredian stumbles backwards gripping onto his burnt hand and trips backwards over a box causing him to fall out the window. Amelia hears his screams as he falls and cringes when she hears the thump of a body hitting the ground and the screams abruptly cutting off.

Classic villain death.

——

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

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

5 times Merlin does something that requires a considerable amount of strength;

+1 time the gang has time to actually bring it up.

Everyone is baffled, half distracted by Merlin’s surprising buffness and half amused by Arthur’s gay panic:

1)

The clearing fills with the sounds of a brutal fight. 

The Knights of Camelot, along with their King, had given up on trying to figure out how bandits always managed to find them in the woods. It seemed impossible for there to be so many mercenary groups that it was just coincidence for them to stumble upon each other so often, but equally, the knights moved quietly and always covered their tracks well, so... yeah, who knows.

The point is, they’re outnumbered three to one, and all of them were starting to regret not listening to Merlin’s earlier suggestion that they keep riding for another hour or so; their camp was destroyed and the fight was tiring them out.

Three to one weren’t bad odds, especially for knights with such a high level of skill, but it was exhausting and time consuming and they just wanted it to be over. Merlin was having similar thoughts as he stumbles through the middle of the crowd, trying to get out of the way. He was keeping an eye on them of course, but his friends were winning so his magical intervention wasn’t really needed; he was just annoyed that Arthur was almost certainly going to make him clear everything up afterwards.

His attention is suddenly caught when Percival’s voice rings out across the clearing:

“Merlin! Behind you!”

All of the knights’ gazes whip to the servant when they hear the giant’s yell, and they all abandon their own battles to step towards him despite knowing that they were too far away to be able to help in time. The servant takes in a sharp breath at Percival’s warning, becoming suddenly aware of a fast-moving presence behind him; he forms a fist and turns, swinging blindly with all his strength and following through even when his knuckles crunch with surprising accuracy against the temple of a bandit.

The man, not expecting the rapid attack, doesn’t have time to move out of the way, and his head jerks to the side, his entire body following as if an afterthought. He crumples to the floor gracelessly, unconscious before his head makes contact with the trampled undergrowth.

Merlin hisses at the pain bursting through his knuckles and up into his wrist, shaking his hand out as he steps over the bandit’s still form without even blinking, back to focusing on attempting to find a tree to sit behind and sulk, as if nothing had happened.

The knights only have a fraction of a second to freeze in shock before they’re dragged back to their own fights, forced to defend themselves lest they get skewered. 

The battle only lasts a few more minutes; despite being outnumbered, the knights far outmatch the bandits in skill (and sufficient armour) and Merlin was correct in his assumption that they wouldn’t need any of his DIY luck, which is a good thing really, considering how much his hand is throbbing. He peeks his head around the tree when things go suspiciously quiet, getting up and making his way to the abandoned bag of medical supplies when he sees the knights victorious.

The servant runs a quick gaze over them, taking stock of any potential injuries as he makes his way through the clearing, injured hand clenched tightly and held to his chest. He may have knocked the bandit out, but that just meant that the punch was hard enough to do damage to his hand as well as the other guy’s head. When he finds nothing more than the odd bruise on the others, he grabs a roll of bandages for himself, quickly wrapping his hand almost painfully tight, before turning to Arthur with a scowl:

“I told you we were too close to the road, I told you we should’ve kept on going. But do you ever listen to me? No, because you’re-”

He’s cut off by The King stepping towards him and taking his bandaged hand, cradling it gently and looking to Merlin in concern:

“Merlin, are you alright?”

Merlin just rolls his eyes and huffs, snatching his hand back and retreating to check on the horses, thankfully tied and uninjured at the edge of the clearing:

“No, my hand fucking hurts, because, surprisingly enough, these idiots have skulls almost as thick as yours. We need to move camps, like I said earlier. Prat.”

Arthur frowns, looking down to Merlin’s unconscious bandit at his feet, and then glancing back to the other knights, who all just shrug with wide eyes. The King sighs, reluctantly nodding at Merlin’s assertion as he stares up at the darkening sky, deciding that Merlin must’ve... hit a pressure point or... something:

“Everyone pack up, I want to be moving on in three minutes.”

2)

Merlin had foregone his jacket and rolled his sleeves up in the surprising Spring heatwave.

Which was a sight in itself.

But what really made the knights look twice (I mean... Arthur was just outright staring, but Leon had long since glared the others into not mentioning The King’s little... crush) was the way the supposedly wimpy servant had two sets of chainmail folded on one shoulder, his arm curled over them to keep them balanced, and a few odd bits of mismatched armour clutched in his other hand. He was making his way from the training field up to the castle, presumably to find an empty room to sit quietly and clean them.

Elyan waves at him across the field, the movement just about catching the servant’s gaze as he twists around, flashing a bright, sunny grin in place of waving back. 

Arthur gulps, eyes drawn to the vein standing out from Merlin’s uncovered neck; apparently the heat had encouraged him to abandon his neckerchief as well. The King takes a deep breath, sending a scowl Merlin’s way to cover his... surprise, holding in a smirk when the servant just rolls his eyes and turns back to the castle.

His stride was strong, and though his arms were straining against the weight, he looked entirely unbothered, not even breathing deeply as he picks up his pace, jogging up the citadel steps.

Training had all but stopped at this point, the roundtable knights staring in confusion as Merlin carefully pulled the door open, making sure he wouldn’t drop anything, before nudging the door shut again with his hip. Gwaine was the first to break the silence, quirking one of his eyebrows up as he speaks in a slightly surprised tone:

“Didn’t know he had it in him. Wearing one set, when the weight is evenly distributed, is hard enough, let alone carrying two sets. And armour. Up steps. Huh.”

Arthur clears his throat, looking away with a slight blush as he asserts:

“Yes, well, knights carry the same weight in armour and weapons everyday, if not more. If you’re that impressed Sir Gwaine, perhaps you should work on your strength.”

Gwaine turns to him with a smirk, but Leon’s warning glare stops him from teasing, or saying anything else that could be considered treasonous. Instead, he rolls his eyes at the first knight before humming non-committedly and pointing his sword at The King:

“That, Princess, sounds like a challenge.”

Arthur, blush forgotten, looks up with raised eyebrows and a chuckle, noting with satisfaction the way the other knights spread out to form a circle around the two of them, swords lowered and expectant looks on their faces:

“Does it now? I suppose you’ll have to take me up on it then, won’t you?”

3)

The knights were on some stupid (in Merlin’s opinion) quest.

The group was currently making their way through a complicated cave system. They had maps, thankfully, but they were old, and provided by a small village of locals who hadn’t spoken common very well. 

They’d had to trade away half of their supplies in return for the maps, so Arthur was already in a foul mood, but a dotted line on the page across the path they were following was worrying him. The note written next to it was in some old, almost lost native language, so The King had just resigned himself to carrying on and hoping for the best.

Which is why he let out a series of echoing curse words when they turned a corner to find a ragged overhang, about eight feet above the path. The wall curved in on itself before jutting out again at the top, making it impossible to climb, even without armour and swords and packs.

Elyan is the first to break the tense silence after Arthur’s outburst, his tone half amused, half annoyed, as he mutters:

“That’ll be why the locals kept pointing at that ladder then.”

Arthur huffs, glaring at the knight with a rare venom, but Leon gestures to the map in his hand before he can retort:

“We can always go back, or is there another way around?”

Arthur huffs louder, letting out a short growl as he thrusts the maps to Leon’s chest and paces closer to the overhang:

“Feel free, if you can find an alternative route, please, enlighten me. The village is a day’s journey away, we don’t have time to go back.”

Leon covers his annoyance at Arthur’s harshness well, but Merlin scowls at The King openly before moving to stand at the junction between the wall of the corridor, and the overhang in front of them:

“Don’t be an arse, Arthur, it’s not Leon’s fault that none of us can understand Old... whatever it was. And it’s not that high, just-”

With that, Merlin braces his foot against the wall, bending his knees slightly before pushing off and jumping up, reaching out and grabbing the overhang, his feet dangling off the ground. The knights stare in shock, but before they can say anything, Merlin swings his feet forwards, and backwards, and forwards again. When they swing back for the second time, he uses the momentum to pull himself up, his arms locking out straight beneath him as he lifts his knees up, crawling over the edge and onto the floor above them.

Arthur blinks, looking from the floor, to the wall, and up to Merlin again, trying to figure out how the hell his manservant had enough strength in his arms and core to pull himself up; he hadn’t even taken his pack off.

Lancelot clears his throat, tilting his head and frowning as he slowly speaks:

“That was... impressive. But we’re wearing armour, Merlin, I don’t think we’ll be able to manage that with all the extra weight.”

No one mentions that they don’t think they could do it even without armour.

Merlin just rolls his eyes and sits on the edge, his feet dangling below him as he gestures vaguely:

“Well if you just get your hands on the ledge then I can pull you up. Take your packs off and throw them up first if you’re so worried, you can give each other a hand up, and Percival can go last because of how tall he is. Come on, it wasn’t that hard.”

Lancelot shrugs, taking his pack off and throwing it up with all his might. Merlin leans out, catching it with ease and chucking it behind him as he motions Percival to interlock his hands. The knight does so, allowing Lancelot to step on them and throw himself up, just about managing to catch the ledge and groaning at the strain in his arms. Merlin brings his feet back over the overhang, bracing his heels against the stone as he reaches down, gripping Lancelot’s wrists and hauling him up and over the edge.

Lance yelps as Merlin yanks him up, rolling onto his back and panting at the ceiling as he blinks in surprise. Merlin doesn’t pay him any attention, frowning down at the others and gesturing at them to hurry:

“Come on, I thought we were in a rush?”

With that, they all huddle below, taking turns to be thrown up and hauled over the edge. Merlin drags Elyan up on his own, Lance still recovering from his slight shock, but the more people gather at the top, the less work Merlin has to do. Which is good, because he may be strong, but he’s not sure he could manage Percival on his own. The giant has to take a running leap at the ledge, and it takes four of them to pull him up without dislocating any shoulders or throwing out any backs.

When they’re all successfully at the top, Merlin wordlessly picks his pack up, shrugging it onto his shoulders as he begins a quick pace along the corridor as if he hadn’t a care in the world; the knights break out of their stupors and jog to catch up, knowing that Merlin was right and they needed to hurry.

4)

Arthur was glaring resolutely at the floor, trying to psych himself up to confront whatever arsehole had managed to get the drop on him and his six best knights. The others were arguing in whispers around him, trying to figure out some way to escape the dungeon unscathed, though The King kept silent, knowing that the only way out was if someone unlocked these infernal chains first.

They’d only been there for around an hour, so no one from Camelot would have realised they were missing yet; their only hope was that Merlin was making his way back to the city to get help. He’d been off gathering firewood, and he’d already been gone half a candle mark when they’d been ambushed; Arthur would never admit it, but he had faith that Merlin would be able to sort everything out.

The King harshly shushes the knights as he hears the guards begin to yell, but frowns in confusion when he hears “They’re going crazy up there!” and “What the fuck?!” before the unmistakable sound of armoured boots running up the stairs and away from the dungeons reaches them.

The knights all look to each other in confusion, straining against their chains to try and see through the small barred window at the top of the door. A shadow passes through the square of light on the floor, and they all shuffle back against the wall, staying silent. None of them manage to hold in their surprised yelps however, when the door suddenly bursts in, the wood around the lock splintering violently and spreading shards across the dungeon floor.

A strong arm extends out, stopping the now broken beyond repair door from swinging shut again, and the knights look up, taking in sharp gasps when they see Merlin stood there, scowling disapprovingly with a ring of keys in his other hand and one foot in front of the other, as if he had... as if he had kicked the door. Leon is the first to break the silence:

“Merlin?? What are you doing here?”

Merlin’s scowl deepens as he glances down the corridor before stepping into the dungeon, sorting through the keys to try and figure out which one would open which set of chains:

“Well I’m rescuing you lot, obviously. I leave camp for barely a candle-mark and you get yourselves kidnapped. Honestly, how hard is it to not find trouble, for once?”

Arthur is too busy staring at Merlin’s apparently muscled legs to say anything, even when Elyan clears his throat and kicks him, so Percival is the next to speak as Merlin unlocks his chains:

“Why not just... unlock the door?”

Merlin doesn’t look at the largest of the knights as he moves on to the others, unchaining them one by one as he responds, his scowl still firmly in place:

“The key was on a separate ring and I only had time to grab one, figured the door would be easier to break than the chains.”

Arthur finally blinks and shakes his head free of.... distracting, thoughts as Merlin finally turns to him, holding his hands out to be unchained as he clears his throat and says strongly, forcing the waiver from his voice:

“How did you distract the guards?”

Merlin finally smiles at that, standing and reaching into his pocket to pull out a lumpy looking bit of plant:

“Snuck in and pretended to be one of their slaves, laced all the jugs with mandrake root. They’re all going loopy with hallucinations upstairs, a few of them vomited and I think one guy might have shit himself. The guards went to see what was wrong, so we don’t have much time, come on.”

Arthur nods impressed, and was the last of the group to sneak from the dungeon, pausing briefly to run a hand over the splintered wood and warped metal of the kicked-in door, before shaking his head and following the others out of the not-quite-abandoned fort.

5)

It had been almost a year since Merlin had last seen his mother, so when the servant requested two weeks off to visit home, wanting to help the village out with repairs before the winter set in, Arthur agreed immediately, on the condition that he and a couple of the knights could tag along.

Merlin reluctantly gave in, but only after insisting that he wouldn’t be Arthur’s servant, and whoever came would have to dig in and help out. To be honest, Arthur was mentally exhausted after months of work on repealing the magic ban, so Merlin was silently grateful that he was coming; The King needed a break, and Merlin knew how secretly fond the man was of Merlin’s mother, and her simple country life. 

In the end, Leon and Mordred were the only ones who could come; Lancelot and Elyan were left in charge of patrols, Percival and Gwaine were left in charge of training, and Guinevere, Gaius, and Morgana were left to oversee the council and the general running of the Kingdom. Arthur wasn’t worried to be honest, they were only going to be gone for two weeks, and if disaster set in they were only a two day’s ride away at most.

It was chilly, the winter was setting in early so Merlin and Hunith were eager for work to start as soon as possible. There were numerous leaks and fences to fix, and one of the village’s barns needed clearing out so it could filled with grain over the snowy season.

That, and as much firewood needed to be collected as possible so they could stockpile. They normally barely had enough to last them through the winter; Arthur had nodded in approval when Merlin had meekly asked if they could take a cart of wood with them from Camelot, but they still had a lot to gather.

It was the afternoon of their first day, Leon had been sent to a neighbour’s to fix a roof, Merlin was doing something outside, and Mordred was just about to head over to one of the livestock pastures to strengthen a few of the fences. Hunith was preparing the evening’s meal and Arthur stood politely in the doorway as he spoke:

“Merlin said that firewood had to be gathered? I can get started on that if you can point me in the right direction.”

Hunith smiles over her shoulder briefly, and Arthur ignores the warm fuzziness in his stomach at the sight as she speaks:

“Oh don’t worry about that, we’ve only one axe in the village and Merlin is out by the barn chopping wood now. I know there’s a leak somewhere in the basement of the village hall, a few of the boys are already down there if you’re looking for something to do?”

Arthur raises his eyebrow at Hunith’s insistence that Merlin, his lanky manservant, was outside with an axe chopping wood, and he glances at Mordred over his shoulder, who just shrugs, nodding to Hunith’s turned back. The King responds quietly, trying to keep the amusement out of his voice:

“Hmm. I’ll go check in with Merlin and then head down to the hall, if he doesn’t need help.”

Hunith hums in agreement, but otherwise doesn’t reply, mumbling under her breath about herbs and measurements as she stirs something into the pot. Arthur smirks at Mordred and the two of them head out, neither mentioning how Mordred was following Arthur to find Merlin instead of getting to the fences.

They walk in silence, though they both freeze on the spot when they turn a corner to see Merlin, once again with his sleeves rolled up, hefting around a huge lump of wood, a ginormous axe resting on his shoulder. He gets the wood where he wants it, stepping back and wiping his forearm across his sweaty forehead before lifting the axe and swinging it down again. The stump splits easily beneath the sharpened metal, and Merlin wastes no time in repositioning the new pieces of wood, ready to be chopped again.

Arthur doesn’t even realise his mouth is hanging open until Mordred looks at him and smirks, biting his lip before giving in and snorting quietly:

“You’re the colour of our capes, Sire, and you might want to shut your mouth. Don’t want to catch flies, do you?”

Arthur’s jaw snaps shut with a clack, and he frowns as his teeth begin to ache. Mordred chuckles slightly and though Arthur is grateful that the young knight is finally comfortable enough to joke around with him, he desperately wishes he wasn’t at Gwaine’s level of comfort.

Instead of retorting, Arthur just clears his throat and turns around, striding towards the village hall:

“It appears he’s got things handled. Those fences won’t fix themselves, Sir Mordred.”

Mordred only just manages to hold in his giggle, looking up to see Merlin staring confusedly at him and Arthur’s rapidly retreating back. He waves briefly, sending a quick “I’ll tell you later.” over their mental link before turning himself and heading in the direction of the pastures.

He knows full well that he has no intention of telling Merlin about Arthur’s crush; watching them tiptoe around each other was the funniest thing ever, and he didn’t want to ruin the bet that Gwaine had going.

+1)

The fight was vicious, more so than any of the skirmishes the knights had dealt with in the last several months.

They were vastly outnumbered, and the addition of four powerful sorcerers to the enemy ranks meant that Merlin and Mordred were quickly running out of energy, having to focus on both the magical aspect of the fight, and trying to keep everyone else alive.

The metallic scent of blood was almost overwhelming, and the constant clang of metal on metal mixed with the whooshing echoes of sorcerous fire and vines was deafening. The fight went on a lot longer than Merlin had thought it would; the enemy was clearly more skilled than predicted, but the Camelot knights did prevail eventually, Percival ending the fight with the smooth slice of his blade across the last mercenary’s throat.

Merlin wastes no time in running his gaze over the knights, giving special attention to Arthur as he searches for any injuries that need seeing to immediately. The last of the sorcerers had managed to escape, so they needed to get out of there as soon as possible: there’s no way they’d survive a second attack if he came back with reinforcements.

Merlin was relieved to see nothing too serious; Lancelot had a gash on his temple that would need a thorough cleaning and a few stitches, and Gwaine was holding his wrist to his chest in a way that told Merlin it was likely broken, but everyone was on their feet and no one was crying. That’s a good start.

Merlin relaxes, but his shoulders quickly tense again as Mordred’s voice echoes weakly through his head:

“Emrys... I’m... I’m tired...”

Merlin whips around quickly, his eyes wide and panicked as his frantic gaze lands on the young knight. He’s leaning against a tree, his eyes hooded and focused on the floor. Merlin leaps towards him, catching him just before his head lands harshly on a boulder, and pulling the collapsed younger man into a more comfortable position as Arthur rushes over:

“What’s wrong with him? I don’t see any blood, was he hit with magic?”

Merlin waves him off, checking Mordred’s pulse and breathing before he relaxes again, sending a tired, but relieved smile up to The King:

“He’s fine, just exhausted. This is the first time he’s used this much magic in years, he’ll need a little while to recover his strength, but we need to get out of here in case they come back.”

Arthur lets out a relieved sigh and nods, leaning down to take one of Mordred’s arms and waving Gwaine over to pick his legs up, but before either of them get even close, Merlin stands up, dragging Mordred with him and settling the armoured knight across his shoulders. He looks to Arthur next to him, not seeming to notice The King’s shock as he quickly says:

“I know you’re The King and all, but would you mind carrying my bag?”

Arthur nods dumbly, picking up Merlin’s dropped medical bag without taking his gaze off the Warlock, who wanders around double checking that the other knights were ok and that all the bandits were dead as if he didn’t have about 240 pounds of man and armour dangling from his shoulders.

Leon catches Arthur’s eye, nodding pointedly towards the path they needed to take, trying to pull Arthur back into the present before the others notice him gawping. Arthur gulps, blushing as he nods his thanks and moves away from the battlefield, Merlin’s bag secured on his shoulders as he confidently speaks:

“Merlin’s right, we need to get as far away from here as we can. I saw a cave about two hours’ back North, we can make camp there before heading back to Camelot in the morning. Gather as much as you can carry, we’ve no hope of finding the horses before nightfall, hopefully they can make their own way home.”

The knights all nod, following Arthur’s lead as he steps carefully through the underbrush, trying not leave any obvious pointers to their direction. He keeps his gaze resolutely ahead as he hears Percival ask:

“You alright, Merlin? Sure you don’t want a hand?”

Despite keeping his gaze stubbornly forward, Arthur strains his ears to hear Merlin’s response, refusing to acknowledge the sudden weakness in his knees at what the Warlock replies with:

“Nah, it’s fine, he’s not that heavy.”

Leon subtly sidles up to walk next to The King, glancing behind him before leaning in close, talking quietly as they moved:

“Perhaps you should... let him know of you affections, Sire?”

Arthur’s blushing gaze quickly finds the older knight’s before he looks away again:

“I don’t know what you think you’re implying, Sir Leon.”

Leon just raises his eyebrow in an unusual display of amused defiance:

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Arthur. He’s been by your side for ten years, you’ve been through the unspeakable, both with each other and for each other. That, and he has a surprisingly... admirable physique.-”

Arthur’s blush deepens and he clears his throat, crossing his arms petulantly and staring resolutely ahead. Leon puts a hand on The young King’s shoulder as he continues:

“-You’re...-”

The knight sighs and bites his lip again, debating with himself over whether he should say it or not:

“-you’re head over heels for him, Sire, perhaps it’s time to do something about it? Gods know he feels the same, and the Gods also know that he’ll never make the first move. He’s still... nervous, about messing things up, I think. His-”

Leon glances over his shoulder again to make sure no one could hear him before dropping his voice to a whisper:

“-his magic being outed put him... on edge, even after all these months. He won’t do anything that he think could push you away or anger you.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before turning to him slowly with an embarrassed scowl on his face; he doesn’t shrug off Leon’s hand, which the knight takes as a good sign:

“Not a word to anyone, Leon, I swear to the Gods.”

Leon holds his hand up and uses his other to wave a cross over his heart:

“I swear, Sire. Though I feel the need to tell you that... at least three of the other servants, and I do believe Lady Bronwyn and Sir Galahad, also have... uh... their eyes on him, as it were.”

Arthur’s scowl gets impossibly deeper as he huffs, muttering to himself:

“They do, do they? Well, we’ll see about that.”

Leon just smirks again and rolls his eyes fondly before falling back to walk with Elyan.

~

They finally make it back to the cave, though it took them even longer without horses. Merlin had requested they stop around a candle mark in so he could remove some of the heavier bits of Mordred’s armour, passing them off to the other knights, but he had once again rejected any offers of help, saying that he was slowly siphoning his own magic into Mordred so he would wake sooner. Apparently they needed to be touching for that to happen, and though Merlin had been teaching them, none of them had enough knowledge on magic to know whether that was true or not, but they did know that Merlin was incredibly protective of the young Druid, so they let it be.

A fire was lit quickly and supplies were laid out. A map had been saved, thankfully, so they could figure out roughly where they were and how long it would take them to get back home as Merlin quickly treated Lance’s gash and Gwaine’s wrist.

Mordred begins to stir just as Percival serves up food, groaning slightly and rubbing at his eyes before struggling to sit himself up. Merlin had rushed to his side as soon as he felt the Druid begin to wake, and helps prop him up against the cave wall, handing him a water-skin as he stares at him with concern. Mordred takes a long drink, nodding his thanks and clearing his throat before speaking, his voice gravelly and slow:

“This... this is the cave we passed a few hours ago...”

His voice trails off, and Arthur answers the question in his tone:

“Hmm. We had no horses, so we were never going to make it back to the city, but we couldn’t stay where we were.”

Mordred nods, yawning widely and rubbing his eyes again as he asks:

“How did you get me this far without horses?”

Arthur clenches his jaw, blushing slightly as he looks away, but thankfully Gwaine butts in, answering with a grin on his face before anyone notices The King’s flush:

“Merlin here is stronger than he looks. Carried you the whole way, didn’t use magic or anything.”

Mordred turns his incredulous gaze to Merlin and he just shrugs absentmindedly:

“You don’t weigh that much, it was fairly easy.”

Elyan laughs and shakes his head, joining in on the conversation quickly:

“Are you kidding me? I mean... sure, I could’ve carried him for maybe an hour, if I was at full strength and it was easy terrain. You carried him for three, only took his armour off in the second hour, down what could barely be classified as a path, in a barely tamed forest, after a pretty hefty fight. That’s... impressive.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, looking around the room in bafflement as he realises that everyone is staring at him with varying levels of impressed confusion:

“You guys... you guys know that I grew up in the country, right? I spent my childhood climbing trees and running away from predators, and my teenage years chopping wood, building things with barely any help, and fighting the odd bear. I then arrive in Camelot, only to immediately be given a job that involves carrying a shit ton of heavy stuff, including, but not limited to: armour, luggage, hunting equipment, and the occasional unconscious idiot.”

Arthur sits up straight and scowls slightly when Merlin gestures to him instead of Mordred:

“You have never had to carry me anywhere.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, gaze sinking to the floor as he smirks and coughs out something that sounds suspiciously like “Sophia”.

Arthur’s blush deepens and he jabs an accusing finger in Merlin’s direction:

“That. Didn’t. Happen.”

Merlin bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, but his dimples still show through despite his best effort and he holds his hands up in surrender:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur just clenches his jaw and sits back against the wall with eyes focused on his food and cheeks red, stubbornly ignoring the knights’ curious stares as everyone eats their food. Merlin fusses over Mordred for a few more minutes but is quickly waved away by the younger man; the Warlock huffs and rolls his eyes, but gives in to the fact that Mordred did not need, nor want, to be babied. He moves subtly around the cave to sit down next to Arthur, barely a foot of air between them despite the abundance of space elsewhere.

Arthur forces his blush down at Merlin’s proximity, refusing to think of anything but his food and the difficult journey home, desperately keeping his gaze on his meal instead of Merlin’s strong legs stretched out next to him.

The King doesn’t acknowledge him, but doesn’t move away either, which Merlin takes as a good sign as he settles in, wrapping himself in a blanket to protect his body from the impending cold.

The other knights have long since finished their meals, scarping the lot in a matter of seconds in an attempt to gain back a little energy after the hours of riding and fighting and walking; they quickly settle into the blankets and cloaks and bedrolls they had managed to carry, though Leon seems to deliberately move slower, waiting for Arthur to glance up at him so he can give a pointed look to Merlin, just finishing his food, before laying down and attempting to sleep.

Arthur blushes with wide eyes, but Leon turns around before he has time to glare at him, and The King huffs quietly, risking a glance to a shivering Merlin next to him. He quickly frowns, not moving his gaze away like he had intended to, instead whispering softly:

“Cold? Can’t you use magic to warm up?”

Merlin looks to him tiredly, leaning his head back against the wall as his eyelids droop slightly:

“Hmm. I gave most of my reserves to Mordred, he was worse off than I first thought so he needed a lot more magic than I realised to keep him alive long enough for his energy to build up again.-”

Arthur widens his eyes at the fact that he was so close to losing one of his knights, but then shakes his head, huffing as he glares at the Warlock disapprovingly, but Merlin closes his eyes and continues before he can get told off:

“-I’ll be fine by morning, I just need-”

He’s interrupted when his body is wracked by a particularly strong shiver:

“-I just need some sleep.”

Arthur rolls his eyes, shuffling into a more comfortable position before opening his arms, spreading his cloak wide as if they were a pair of majestic wings:

“Come here, you idiot. I can’t have you freezing to death because you refuse to look after yourself.”

In normal circumstance Merlin would’ve argued, but he really was cold, so when he cracks his eyes open to see Arthur ready and waiting, he doesn’t hesitate to crawl hurriedly over. Arthur ignores the flush rising on his cheeks as Merlin clambers over one of his legs, settling between them and shoving his head under the blonde’s chin; he wraps his cloak around the two of them and rubs his cheek into the Warlock’s soft hair. 

He can feel Merlin grin against his collarbone, and it’s enough to distract him from the surprising, but not unwelcome, weight of Merlin’s muscled form against his chest:

“You know, Arthur, if you wanted to feel up my muscles so badly you just had to ask. You stare far too often to think you’re subtle.”

Arthur’s flush deepens and his body goes rigid as Merlin giggles. He clenches his jaw and lands a punch, far softer than he would normally go for, on the other man’s shoulder, but that just makes him giggle harder, and Arthur has to hush him in fear of waking the others. Merlin looks up at him through thick eyelashes, blinking tiredly with a satisfied smile on his face:

“Just let me know if you ever want carrying around, I’m more than happy to help.”

Arthur gulps, refusing to make eye contact as he stares resolutely at the opposite wall and not acknowledging the red hue of his cheeks:

“When we get back to Camelot, I’m hanging you for treason.”

Merlin snorts quietly, re-burying his face in Arthur’s chest and curling up tightly in his lap to stave off the cold:

“Whatever you say, Sire.”

Arthur gives in, smiling slightly and rolling his eyes as he tightens his hold on the other man. He lets his cheek fall back to rest on his soft hair as he closes his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over and descending into an easy sleep.

~

THE END!!

We stan Arthur gay panicking and all the knights (bar Leon of course, who handles it as tactically as he’s able) ruthlessly taking the piss :D

I hope y’all enjoyed reading this, I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thank you anon, I loved writing this!!!

Same as always, someone wants to write it up in full, go for it!! Drop me a message and credit/tag me :)

[gremlinbehaviour]

"That was a brave thing you did today." with Leoncelot?

The use of magic had been decriminalized, but not quite legalized, and there was still a huge stigma around its use. Which left Lancelot with a difficult decision to make. Now that he knew he wouldn’t be executed for it, his heart ached to tell Arthur about his abilities and upbringing. It wasn’t that he had an issue with keeping secrets, especially not for his friends, and he would still carry Merlin’s with him for the rest of his life if he asked. But after being alone and unknown for so much of his life, Lancelot wanted his friends to know him, to really understand him and who he was.

He’d told Merlin, obviously, and then Percival and Elyan and Gwaine, since they’d all been born or spent time outside of Camelot and were less likely to be prejudiced against magic. With Leon, it hadn’t been so intentional. The knights had just been out riding when a snake slithered in front of Leon’s horse and spooked it into throwing him off. The First Knight had landed badly, breaking his back. Lancelot had been by his side in an instant, calling on his magic and letting his eyes glow purple as he knitted nerves back together and fused broken bone. There’d been no hiding it, but saving someone from paralysis or worse was a good way to change their minds about magic, and Leon immediately promised to not turn him in. In fact, they became a lot closer after the experience, without the secret getting between them. Now the first knight was the one rubbing Lancelot’s back as he tried to work up the courage to go talk to Arthur.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he offered. “At the very least, I can testify to the nature of your powers and how you’ve used them for good.”

“I shouldn’t have to use them for good for my existence to be accepted,” Lancelot sighed. “But thank you. Your support would really mean a lot. Now, let’s go before I psych myself out too much.” He stood up quickly from his seat at the edge of the bed, with Leon a second behind him, and they made their way to Arthur’s chambers. It was after dinner, so hopefully he would be in. They ran into Merlin on his way out. The manservant quickly took in the serious expressions and the way Lancelot’s hand kept twitching back towards Leon’s, though he seemed reluctant to actually take it just yet.

“Are you going to tell him?” he whispered. Lancelot nodded. “Do you want me to stay too?”

“I’m alright. I don’t want to put you in the middle of this.” It could get nasty, was what he meant, and Arthur had a tendency to throw things at Merlin already. If the manservant started arguing in favor of magic, who knew what might happen. Lancelot knew he could defend himself, but didn’t want to put him in the position of having to out himself like that if he wasn’t ready.

“Okay. Well, um, I’ll come by your room later, if that’s alright.” Lancelot nodded. He knew Merlin would want to check on him and learn every detail of what had happened. “Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Summoning up his courage, Lancelot knocked on the door.

“Come in,” Arthur called. He was sitting at his desk when they entered, his back turned to the door. “At least you’ve learned to knock when you forget things now, Merlin.”

“It’s, um, us, sire. Leon and Lancelot,” Lancelot corrected him. “Is now a good time to talk?”

“Oh, of course,” he said, standing up and leaning against his desk to face them. “What is it?”

“I have magic,” Lancelot quickly said. He didn’t want to drag this out. “I was born with it, or I developed it very early, at least. I can heal people, figured it out when my brother got sick. I wasn’t st-rong enough to save my family during the massacre, but after that, I was taken in by druids. They taught me to use it and be-become stronger.” His voice shook as he explained. Leon reached forward to grab his hand.

“And you knew about this?” Arthur asked Leon. He didn’t sound angry, but tone could be deceiving.

“I did, sire. Lancelot healed me after an accident in the woods, when my back was broken, and other times after that.”

“When your back- God, I had no idea.”

“Lancelot did a good job healing it,” Leon explained. “I don’t even have a scar.”

“And you trust him?”

“Is that even a question? Would we be here if I didn’t?” Leon asked. “Right now I’m wondering if I trust you as much as him.”

“Easy. I was just wondering if you thought he’d been corrupted.”

“Magic doesn’t do that,” Lancelot cut in, his voice soft. He hated being talked about, always had, and normally Arthur and his other friends were considerate of that. With tensions running so high, he wasn’t surprised that they had forgotten, but it wasn’t helping him stay calm either. “It doesn’t corrupt people any more than power does. I’m not corrupt.”

“You’re clearly not trustworthy, though,” Arthur said. “If you’ve hidden this from me for all these years.”

“And when should I have told you, huh?” Lancelot demanded, angry now. Arthur was often an ass, but this was important. “This is the first week where you couldn’t have me legally executed for it. Was I supposed to risk my life for your self importance?”

“Well, I, uh. I suppose not,” Arthur admitted. While Leon sometimes had a bit of a temper, Lancelot was much slower to anger, so he must’ve really mis-stepped to make him so mad. “I’m sorry. I guess I see why you couldn’t tell me. Do you want to, um, or could you tell me more about it now?”

Surprised by Arthur’s politeness, Lancelot nodded and took a seat at the table, as he expected this to be a long conversation. He wasn’t wrong. By the time he left Arthur’s chambers with Leon, it was late in the evening and he felt completely wrung out, somewhat physically but moreso emotionally. Arthur hadn’t reacted badly, had barely even yelled at him, but it had still been nerve-wracking and exhausting. Leon stayed close by his side as they returned to his room, where they found Merlin already waiting for them inside.

“How did it go?” he asked anxiously as Lancelot crawled into bed beside him. Leon explained it as he settled down behind the other knight and rolled over to hold him gently. They sandwiched him between them as he started to cry softly, not so much because he was sad but just out of relief that it was finally over.

“That was a brave thing you did today,” Leon murmured into his ear. “I’m so proud of you. You’re so strong, and I know you can handle everything that happens now.”

“And we’ll be right beside you the whole time too,” Merlin added from in front of him. “You’re gonna be fine. Better than fine, actually. Arthur will legalize magic fully one day, and you can heal people in the open like you’ve always wanted to.”

“You’ll be free to use it too,” Lancelot whispered against his chest.

“Power duo,” Leon said, making them all laugh. When they settled again, he snuggled his face into the back of Lancelot’s neck. “You don’t have to worry about any of that tonight, though. Just rest.” They would both stay and look after him tonight, so that he didn’t have to be brave anymore.

[donttouchtheneednoggle]

🌹😊

It was when Lancelot stumbled and fell and the knight raised his sword for a death blow that Gwen screamed and launched herself forward only to be held back by her father’s iron grip on her arm. In her panic though, she had let go of Merlin.

He screamed too, and flung himself from the stands. Magic might not affect the knight’s poise, but even he could not argue with physics or sheer desperation. Merlin flung his hands out in front of him and hit him with a colossal shockwave that sent him flying backwards.

And then of course came the dreaded cry. “SORCERY!"

Merlin looked draconic, eyes burning gold, cheeks hollow as he held Lancelot in his arms and glared fire at anyone who dared approach them. Guards thudding across the sand, Lancelot pushing Merlin away and rising to his feet, picking up his sword, cloak swirling like blood and falling into a defensive stance as Merlin’s shockwave sent them back, but more and more and they were overcome.

Gwen was screaming and struggling, Tom now with both arms wrapped around her to keep her from going to save her partners, only to die with them.

If Lancelot stayed AU of 1x09. Shit gets real 🤣

Thanks for the ask! 💖

[sergeantsporks]

What Greater Good Do I Have Than You?

Rating: Gen, General Audiences

The titans' hunger must be sated, Merlin knows this. But he wishes he weren't the one who had to do it

@alovesongshewrote said something about “do you think Merlin would kill Douxie for the greater good” and my brain went clickity clack and here we are :D

Ao3

The titans had to be fed.

It was necessary. To maintain order. Balance. Magicians lived forever if not killed—and yet more and more would be born.

So every millennium, a wizard had to die. They had to be killed where their magic could return to the earth, replenishing the earth’s supply, keeping the titans asleep and the Order happy.

That was Merlin’s purpose. It was his calling. It was why he’d been born—to maintain the greater good, to choose a young wizard every millennium to die. To train them, to grow and shape their magic into the perfect vessel, then kill them like a sacrificial lamb.

To raise children for the slaughter.

Again and again.

Apprentices gained and lost.

It became routine. He had to kill them. He needed to kill his apprentice.

Not this one.

He didn’t have a choice—this was how the balance was maintained.

Not Hisirdoux.

He’d killed his last apprentice around a century ago. That one had been harder—that one had grabbed his hand, with tears in her eyes, and had asked simply, why? She hadn’t begged for her life, hadn’t fought back. Simply asked why. He’d needed a break, needed to take a step back from all of the killing.

Arthur had handed him an apprentice on a silver platter, his sister, Morgana. Considerate, given that the fool kept slaughtering magicians in his war against magic. A waste. So many magical lives lost, but none of them in the right place or the right way to maintain the balance.

But Morgana grew too powerful too fast. She forged her own path, far too quickly. Merlin wasn’t able to shape her magic, and she never listened to him.

So when he stumbled across a spellcaster nearly getting his head sliced off by Arthur’s knights, he stepped in. The boy was appropriately grateful. Said he owed Merlin his life.

Something about that hit a nerve. Something about… never mind. It didn’t matter. He had an appropriate sacrifice, and it was time to begin to mold his magic.

Hisirdoux was one of the worst apprentices Merlin had ever had. He was clumsy, used magic as a shortcut to everything, and didn’t follow instructions properly ever.

It was all oddly endearing.

And as he spent more and more time with Hisirdoux (and he had to spend lots of time with him, had to oversee most of his training personally instead of assigning a book to read, because the boy would not learn the spell right if he just read it out of a book, by the seven rings, Merlin was starting to think he was doing it on purpose) he started to… grow fond of him. He found himself wondering if he could skip the sacrifice this time.

But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t—even if he did, Hisirdoux wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter, because the Order would note the lack in the balance, the titans would awaken, and they would all be destroyed.

Maybe he could find a replacement?

What was he thinking?! He’d never taken more than one apprentice at a time, what if one of them asked what had happened to the other? He couldn’t risk Hisirdoux becoming friends with some other apprentice and then trying to prevent their death!

He still found some girl spellcaster anyway, rescued her from Arthur’s knights. She headbutted him in the face and ran away as thanks. So that plan went out the window.

He had time, he had plenty of time, he had 900 years to find a replacement. Or find a way to stop growing so blasted attached to this oaf of an apprentice who broke everything he touched and would likely break his old heart as well.

In the past, Merlin had always managed to find some flaw with his apprentices, one that he exaggerated in his mind until he could pretend it wasn’t such a horrible thing to kill them.

Hisirdoux’s only flaw appeared to be that he cared a little too much. His sweet, trusting apprentice that looked up to him. That and he was clumsy. Merlin could work with that.

So he blew his apprentice’s clumsiness out of proportion. He scolded him every time he dropped something, expressed exasperation that he couldn’t do anything right.

Part of him hoped Hisirdoux would get fed up with it all and run away, where Merlin could never find him again.

But of course he didn’t. No. Of course not. Hisirdoux stayed, no matter how many times Merlin yelled at him, always with that same quiet determination, always sticking with him no matter how hard it got.

He was so determined to become a master wizard, to get his wizard’s staff. Merlin almost wanted to give him one, wanted him to live long enough to become a master wizard.

Morgana was right.

He was an old fool.

And then, one day, he found his apprentice locked in a wardrobe, under a sleeping spell.

Even though he’d just seen his apprentice a few moments ago.

Wonderful.

He confronted the other Hisirdoux, and found out that he was from the future.

900 years to be exact.

Right around when it would be time for the sacrifice.

According to this other Hisirdoux, the Order had attacked them.

So he hadn’t managed to kill Hisirdoux. Hadn’t even tried, based on the way his apprentice treated him.

It was… relieving to hear. Far too relieving, he told himself, considering that it heralded the end times.

When this future Hisirdoux kept arguing, kept pressing him, he shouted that he wouldn’t lose another apprentice. He’d been talking about Morgana, but he realized he couldn’t lose Hisirdoux. He couldn’t kill him, couldn’t kill a single other apprentice, and especially not Hisirdoux.

But… Hisirdoux hadn’t come alone. He’d brought along a young sorceress.

The wheels started turning in Merlin’s mind. He watched as Hisirdoux began to train the girl. As if he knew what a master wizard taking on an apprentice meant—as if he knew what came at the end.

But still.

Still the gears in Merlin’s head clicked quietly, formulating a new plan. The timing would be tricky, there would be such a small window. It wasn’t worth the risk, he shouldn’t go through with it.

But then, timing things was exactly his forte.

Hisirdoux would get his staff. He would be a master wizard.

With all that it entailed.

Still, when Merlin gave him the staff, he didn’t tell him the price of being a master wizard.

He didn’t tell his apprentice his original fate, the fate he was now changing. No, that was a job for himself in 900 years.

They sealed away Morgana, and the gears once again began turning.

Wait 900 years.

Bring the frozen Morgana to the Primal Heartstone.

Free her.

Perform the ceremony.

The magic might not be perfect, since he never had trained her very well, but it would do.

Hisirdoux didn’t ever need to know. He could keep his apprentice, and he didn’t have to put his burden, his heavy, heavy burden, on his son’s shoulders. He could continue on quietly, continue on loathing himself while Hisirdoux lived a long, happy life with his student.

Yes. This would work.

It didn’t work.

Things went wrong from the moment the trollhunter woke him up. And before he knew what was happening, Morgana was dead, and he was back to square one.

Kill Hisirdoux, or put his own burden on his apprentice’s shoulders?

Merlin watched as his son tumbled down into the time portal. He was running out of options!

Douxie returned moments later with his staff.

Maybe it was too late. Maybe it was all over.

No. No. He’d spent too long protecting this world, keeping the balance, losing his own soul to do so. He couldn’t stop now, not now that he finally had someone else to live for. Someone that he was actually protecting the world for.

Young Claire insisted that they go after the trollhunter. Merlin heaved a deep sigh.

“I know of a way to put off the order,” he admitted, “It will delay them for a millennia—that may give us an opportunity to retrieve Jim Lake Junior.”

“Then we’ll do it,” Hisirdoux said confidently.

Blast.

There was only one way to keep Hisirdoux alive. And there was absolutely no way for him to not find out.

Merlin had the ability to open a portal to one singular place. One of fate’s cruel machinations. And open it he did, taking Hisirdoux and Claire through to a place below trollmarket, to the last remaining Primal Heartstone. He sucked in a deep breath.

“Hisirdoux. You wanted to become a master wizard. I have granted you your staff, but there is one last thing I must teach you.”

Claire balked. “I don’t like this place.”

Before she could react, Merlin bound her to the heartstone with his magic. Hisirdoux yelped.

“Master! No! What are you doing?!”

“To keep the balance, to delay the order, a sacrifice must be made. A sacrifice of magic.

“No! You can’t! Not to Claire!”

Merlin could see it. The moment the realization hit him.

“Wait… Were you… planning to kill me?”

Merlin didn’t answer, but he was sure his silence said just as much.

Hisirdoux’s eyes filled with tears, and he gasped like he couldn’t breathe. “This whole time—you were planning on killing me? From the moment you rescued me in the alley—you saved me just so you could kill me later?!”

Merlin created a knife with his magic and held it hilt out towards his son. “Hisirdoux, it is the only way to keep the balance! Master must kill the apprentice—you said you wanted to be a master wizard, well, this is what it entails!”

Hisirdoux pushed the knife away, standing in front of Claire, his arms out. “Then do it. Kill me, like you originally planned. Because I won’t let you harm Claire.”

“Douxie, no!” Claire yelled. Her eyes sparked with magic, but the place was designed for the slaughter of wizards. Merlin’s magic held her.

Hisirdoux’s shoulders were trembling, but he managed a smile. “It’s okay, Claire. This way you can save Jim.”

Merlin’s own hand was shaking on the knife. “Hisirdoux, move! I don’t want to kill you! If you won’t kill Miss Nunez, then I’m afraid I will have to, but I will not lose you!”

“No! If you want to kill someone, if you really think that it’s necessary to save the world… I’m not going to let it be my friends. The only reason I’m alive today is because you planned to kill me. I’m not supposed to be here—my life is forfeit anyway. So do it. Let Claire live.”

Merlin raised the knife, his whole body shaking so hard he thought he might stab himself. Hisirdoux squeezed his eyes shut.

Merlin’s arm fell. “I can’t,” he whispered, so quietly he could barely hear himself.

His son turned his face away, tears leaking out of the corners of his closed eyes. “What are you waiting for? Just do it!”

Merlin hurled the knife down to the ground with a clang. “I CAN’T!” he shouted. He released the magic holding Claire. “Kill me instead,” he told Hisirdoux, collapsing to his knees in front of the heartstone, “I cannot kill you, and you will not kill Claire. So kill me instead.”

“What? No! We’ll find another way!”

“I might kill him,” Claire offered.

Merlin transferred the discarded knife to Hisirdoux’s hands with a spell. “Do it. I’ve killed so many apprentices. I cannot continue doing this—please. Avenge them. It is only fitting for me to die at the hands of my own apprentice, after I killed so many. Kill me, stave off the Order, save the trollhunter. You’ll have a millennium to find your other way—I could have looked for another way, should have looked for another way all this time. But I didn’t. That is my failing.”

Hisirdoux dismissed the knife in a puff of blue smoke, offering Merlin a hand up. “No. No more deaths, no more sacrificing wizards to this. We’re finding another way. We’ll save Jim. We’ll fight the Order. But I’m not going to continue this cycle.”

“Is every life so precious to you?” Merlin mumbled, “Even a life as decrepit and horrendous as my own?”

“Every life. We just lost Jim—I’m not losing anyone else. Not like this.” Hisirdoux pulled Merlin up to his feet. “You want to make up for what you did to your other apprentices so badly? You won’t do it by dying. You have to live, and repair the mistakes you made. You can accomplish good things, I know it, but you can’t do that if you die here.”

Merlin felt his eyes grow suspiciously wet. “What could I possibly accomplish that would be greater than saving you?”

His son’s eyes teared up, but he brushed them away and nodded to the still-open portal. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

[whitewitch95]

alright, I'm usually over at twitter or discord spewing my thoughts and prompts, but I feel like the Merlin fandom is bigger over here, so maybe someone appreciates that

Thoughts and a fanfic prompt to s2ep07 The Witchfinder

Aredian accuses Merlin of magic bc of the amulet he placed in the physician's quarters, and from the look in his eye, presumably speculates that Gaius will "confess" that it's his - what Gaius of course does because he loves Merlin like his own son. During the episode, still-innocent Morgana is on Aredian's radar as well, just bc Gaius treated her nightmares, and we learn that although Gaius confesses, Aredian still wants to "expose Merlin and Morgana's evil deeds".

I feel like most people - once we realize that Aredian is an asshole who stages all the "sorcerer sightings" for money, and Arthur once more is more reasonable than Uther and helps Merlin save the day, who is actually doing all the work again - I feel like most people tend to forget that Aredian actually precisely accused 3 real sorcerers of sorcery. Yes, neither of them did what they'd been accused of, but nonetheless, Aredian points them out with eerie precision.

So WHAT IF Aredian actually has some weak magic himself? Like the "funny feelings" Merlin sometimes gets when he just instinctively knows shit's gonna go downhill or when he feels drawn towards other people's/being's magic? Like an actual witchfinder, you know, not skilled enough to play detective and catch sorcerers in the act, maybe not even interested in upholding the laws against sorcery or not, just as long as he gets payment and fame - but what if he makes those seemingly random *finger point* "THAT BOY" accusations that nobody ever questions bc of his own weak magic that makes him sensitive for it?

Okay, so now comes the prompt idea. We all probably laughed when cheeky Merlin exposes Aredian with that toad coming out of his mouth on top of everything else, but imagine he doesn't bc that would be too obvious and instead just places the "fake" evidence in his room - that would leave Aredian the opportunity to use his mouth.

So what if, while Arthur and the knights are searching the room, Aredian thunders that "THAT BOY placed this here, HE'S the sorcerer, you have EVIL IN YOUR CASTLE" and Arthur only scoffs because please, that man is just ridiculous. And then, like *Merlin* did in the actual episode, *Aredian* turns away, half-hidden from view, whispers a spell that has Merlin's magic reacting, body spasming and eyes golden.

And Merlin is just standing there, struggling to hold his magic inside and not have it lashing out, and Aredian is smirking bc there's no way to explain that away, surely he has won now-

And Arthur whirls around, punching Aredian in the face, yelling at his knights about stuffing that man's mouth with a cloth before he says any more spells, and when Aredian fights them bc he finally realizes he's about to lose and then moves towards Morgana, Arthur runs him through with his sword.

Aredian is dead.

Merlin is still breathing hard, even though his magic has settled once again, and while everyone is shocked and panting and Arthur assures himself of Morgana's wellbeing, Merlin is On Edge. Because that was his actual magic reacting, and his own eyes turning golden in response to the spell, and a room full of knights, and Morgana, and Arthur were watching.

But when they all return to Uther, Arthur relays the story and it sounds as if Aredian, traitor of Camelot and apparently an evil sorcerer that has sent innocent people into their death, has enchanted Merlin to look as if he had magic, JUST like he did with hiding that amulet in Gaius chambers, to put the blame onto someone else.

Nobody questions it, not even Uther.

Merlin feels the tightness in his chest lessen, finally able to breathe normally again. He wants to laugh, really. Arthur is SO CONVINCED that his manservant is nothing more than a bumbling, but highly loyal idiot - and he has tried to protect Merlin, he remembers, right in front of Aredian and Uther and the whole court - that Arthur doesn't even consider Merlin could actually have magic.

When the day winds down, Merlin helps Arthur getting ready for bed, serving him dinner, tidying his chambers, still tired and wary, but incredibly relieved.

Until Arthur says, "So, Merlin," and Merlin freezes because that tone sounds chilling. Carefully, he straightens up and looks at Arthur, who's watching him with frighteningly intense eyes, gaze piercing. "Anything you have to say?"

"Uhm," Merlin hesitates, unsure what exactly Arthur means, heart beating wildly. "I don't know what you mean, Sire," he settles on, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'thank you', but I know manners aren't your strong suit, so how about the truth?"

"The truth?" Merlin laughs nervously, dear god, he shouldn't have let his guard down-

"YES, Merlin, the truth," Arthur growls, and then he's out of his chair, stomping towards Merlin. "Because I can assure you, this was the last time I've lied to my knights and my father and the entire court for you if you don't even have it in you to tell me the TRUTH!"

Arthus has him cornered against the bedpost now, and Merlin is trembling ever so slightly. Arthur's eyes are blazing, like a blue, furious thunderstorm, and Merlin knows there's no escaping this; especially because Arthur is right.

So he talks. He's hesitant at first, reinforcing that everything they found out about Aredian is the truth, that Merlin did not lie, that he did not *once* betray Arthur, or Camelot. Arthur looks as if he isn't sure if he fully believes Merlin, but he listens, and that is more than Merlin could've hoped for.

In the end, Merlin's voice is rough from talking, his face pale and tight with worry. Arthur has stepped back from him a while ago, first crossing his arms and snapping out questions, and then he started pacing.

"I swear," Merlin says lowly, "I never intended to bring anyone harm. I was born like this... and I have finally found a purpose."

"And what would that be, Merlin?" Arthur asks, but he doesn't sound harsh; he sounds tired, staring into the flames of the fireplace.

Merlin gulps. Now or never. "Protecting you. I- I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to have to choose. Because no matter the outcome... it would've burdened you."

Still staring into the flames, Arthur laughs humorlessly. "And yet it seems I did it anyway."

At Merlin's silence, Arthur finally turns, and he almost looks sick. "Does Gaius know?"

"Yes," Merlin whispers, but he's not afraid that Arthur will punish Gaius for it. Arthus isn't Uther.

"Of course," Arthur mumbles, and his eyes show that he's working through what he's heard so far. "How could he not know? After all, a quite powerful warlock is living with him."

Shifting uncomfortably, Merlin wonders if there's anything he can say to make it easier for anyone, but there are no words he can think of.

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. "That... that can't be..." he trails off, and he's reeling more than Merlin has ever seen him before. "That would mean-"

Abruptly, Arthur turns away, aiming for his chair, before he whirls around again and once more stomps towards Merlin.

"If you're telling the truth," Arthur snaps, and there's a threatening expression on his face, before it softens at Merlin's flinch. "Then why aren't you affected by the magic? Why do you still want to protect me, so much so that you're putting yourself at risk everyday?"

"I," Merlin starts, unsure. "I told you, I think... that you'll be a great king, and I-"

Arthur shakes his head. "No," he interrupts. "Why is the magic not tainting you? Why... why are you still you?" he finishes, quieter.

Merlins heart feels incredibly tender. "Because magic is just a tool, Arthur. Like sword fighting. A tool that some people can use, and some can't. A tool that sometimes is used for good, and sometimes for evil. Having magic says nothing about a person - but the way they use it does."

Silence, only the crackling of the fire can be heard as Merlin watches Arthur's face, seeing the emotions flit over it, the horrible realization. "Then..."

Merlin doesn't say anything. This is a conclusion Arthur should draw, alone, without Merlin's influence.

Arthur looks up, and the light of a candle reflects in his eyes. He looks vulnerable. Pleading. Incredibly young.

Merlin waits as Arthur turns away once more, running a hand through his golden hair, shoulders tense.

"If it's alright with you," Merlin carefully starts, "I'd look after Gaius now. He's gone through hell these past few days."

"Yes, yes," Arthur agrees, sounding crumpled under the weight of tonight's revelations. "Please pass on my well wishes to him again. What happened to him was... unjust." He gets hung up on that word apparently, because he repeats it under his breath, like a death sentence. "Unjust."

Tentatively, Merlin steps towards Arthur, but he doesn't know if it will be welcome right now.

"Goodnight, Sire."

The door has almost closed behind Merlin when he hears the faint "Goodnight" in return. He smiles. Maybe, just maybe, the horrors since the witchfinder arrived are leading the way to their destiny.

Addition: Maybe, because Arthur's actually kind of smart, he realized that Merlin has magic earlier, but tried to convince himself that he hasn't. And maybe Arthur puts two and two together about the witchfinder having actual magic, and he asks Merlin about Morgana. And maybe that would save her, and the kingdom, and ultimately himself. Just saying.