Mercelot Week will run from May 25th -31st l 2025. header: @camelotsheart[Image ID: Header: gif of Lancelot lowering Merlin to the ground with the words "Lancelot needed you and you needed Lancelot. Your destinies were entwined" to the the right. Icon: Merlin and Lancelot smiling on an orange and yellow gradient background. End ID]
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đđand its never too late to post for mercelotweek if you happen to like any of the prompts!!
merwaincelot is a TOP tier trio im ngl. i would 1000% participate if it goes on!! and ill reblog the event from both merwaine/mercelot accountsđ
Hi! I realise I'm quite late to the party and this blog is unlikely to even still be active, but.. have there been any follow-up weeks or events since this one? Are there likely to be? It's something I would absolutely love to participate in!
Hope the mod(s) are having a good day/night :)
Hi! I am also late to this message, apologies anon! At the start of the year, there was no plan for a Merwaincelot Week 2025, but there might be a more low-maintenance version running in September if prompt inspiration hits...
In terms of similar events, @mercelotweek and @merwainefest are still very much active! The former ran in May, I believe, but definitely check out their blog for all of the entries! And the latter is scheduled to begin at the start of August, so if you're looking to participate in an event and are a fan of that ship then that's absolutely the place to be.
However, it was always the idea that if one person wanted Merwaincelot then there would be a space for them that they could drag others into, so keep an eye on this blog in August, and have a good day/night, too!
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âšStarting August 8th - 14th âš
đMERWAINE FEST 2025đ
FOR FANFIC WRITERS - prompts and/or themes:
day 1: accidently child adoption + h/c
day 2: âwhat are you going to do? arrest me?â + angst
day 3: ânow itâs time for some funâ + body swap au
day 4: âcome on, i got you.â + canon divergent au
day 5: âdarling, whatâs wrong?â + humor
day 6: losing sleep + angst
day 7: free day
there is an ao3 collection under the name which can be found here âmerwaine weekâ - if you wish to add your fics
please put the day and prompt in your summary if posting to ao3.
reminder: merlin/gwaine do not need to be the one to say the line or be the things exactly! and the + means and/or. these are mostly for inspiration alone. if you would like to just write the au for day one, for example, and not use the h/c, then that's perfectly fine.
FOR GIFS/ VIDEO/ ART CREATORS - quotes and/or themes:
day 1: âwhat if you find your soulmate at the wrong time?â + red
day 2: parallels + orange
day 3: humor + your favorite color combo with yellow
day 4: âIt is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.â + green
day 5: song lyrics + blue
day 6: poem + purple
day 7: free day + rainbow
rules:
must be posted on tumblr so i can reblog!
please tag your posts as #merwainefest2025 and/or tag this account directly.
NSFW is allowed, just please tag appropriately.
have fun and enjoy yourself! this week is all about supporting each other and sharing your work!
questions, concerns, or just wanna talk? you can dm or send asks at this account or my main @bellamyblakru
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Me @ all the fic fills this round:

Donât get me wrong, I loveee angst! But uhhh yâall why are we all so sad (except beloved @kairenn-n đ)
LMFAOOO im so sorryđi love angst so much that i think i manifested the fest to reflect thatđim so excited to read them omg sadness galore my beloved đ
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@mercelotweek day 7 - free day + rainbow
I went through a couple different versions before settling on incorporating the rainbow into the background. I'm surprised I finished in time but they grabbed me by the inspiration and forced my hand! I love them!!! đ«¶
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The Meaning of Your Heart by augustulus (2.1k words)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Nonbinary Merlin; Fluff
Summary:
Two times Merlin and Lancelot discuss Merlin using she/her pronouns.
for @mercelotweek day 7: free day
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You Saw Death Touch Me Once
|| Lancelot/Merlin â T+ â 4.7K â No Warnings ||
Alternate Tile: Joyous Gard
A fannish take on the betrayal-arc of Arthurian myth.
Summary: Merlin and Lancelot escape Camelot in the wake of a disastrous magic reveal, and must contend with the difficult aftermath. // Written for Day 6 of @mercelotweek 2025, for the prompts, 'Angst' + 'BAMF!Lancelot'.
---
A wind picked up that night, tearing over the tall wild grasses of the Northern Plains. A storm; it had teeth to rip plants out by their roots. Inside the walls of a ruined castle, Lancelot and Merlin sheltered, and heard it howling: picking at the crumbling mortar, scraping against the dilapidated battlements. But here would have to do, for now; it was too dark to ride any farther.
In one of the towers, Merlin cleaned blood off of Lancelotâs face with a wet rag. Lancelot didnât feel the cold on his skin, but stared straight ahead, treading through his own mind like man clawing his way out of a house fire. The cloth stung Lancelotâs cut lip, and he flinched.
âAre you back with me?â Merlin said. Lancelot heard him from far away.
The stormâforced through arrow slits and windows built for siegesâwhistled in alarm. They felt the gust, too, in Camelot, where Arthur looked out over the lower town, and watched one by one as lights were snuffed and shutters closed. And meanwhile, in the ruined tower, Lancelot saw Merlin as if for he first time: the cloth, Merlinâs hand, his raw-red wrists. He reached up to touch him: quickly, but un-harshâin no way other than as a lover.
ââŠLancelot?â Merlin said.
âMerlin.â He startled. Shook himself. âIâm⊠Iâm sorry, I donât know whatâŠâ The fog over Lancelot started to lift. Merlinâs hand was in his, and he examined the shackle-marks on Merlinâs skin, and winced, then released him.
The glooming tower was indifferent to its guests. It had seen battles and refugees and bandits. Had sheltered travelling innocents and fleeing murderers alike, and it cared little about the two men huddled in it now: on its rotting benches, lit by the bleak cast of a miniature glowing moon. Merlinâs doing.
âIâm sorry,â Lancelot said, shaking his head. âSomething was over me. Itâs⊠itâs clearing.â Â
âIs it?â
âYes. Iâm sorry. Iâm⊠Iâm alright, now.â
ââŠYeah,â Merlin said. âYou were a bit⊠I donât know. You werenât yourself.â
âI⊠I know. But Iâm fine now.â Â
Merlin wasnât convinced. His brow was furrowed, examining Lancelotâs face. He wiped away one last smudge below Lancelotâs ear, then called that finished and lowered the cloth.
âI found somewhere for the horse,â Merlin said. âOn the lower levels. And⊠and here seemed best for us to spend the night. So.â
Lancelot looked around, evaluating the turret room. He did his best to seem discerning, but Merlin knew him too well. He saw walls, and dust, and heavy curtains on tarnished rods, and felt distinctly swallowed by something bigger than himself.
âAre you hurt?â Merlin said.
âNo.â
âLet me look.â
He let him, willingly. They didnât speak as Merlin undressed him; he was practiced at disrobing a knight, especially Lancelot. Removing his belt with sword and scabbard, mail, gambeson. He peeled up Lancelotâs shirt, and found an ink-spill of bruises, so dark he couldâve wet his fingertips. Merlin frowned, prodding at Lancelotâs ribs.
âCanât you feel any of this?â
âNo.â
âYouâre not in pain?â
âNo.â
ââŠShock,â Merlin decided, and pulled the shirt back down to cover him. He got up to fetch Lancelotâs cloak, and drape it around his shoulders. âYou need to rest. Youâll feel it soon.â
Lancelot watched him go across the room, and return with the knightâs cloak. He felt like that man again: choking in the dirt of his yard after escaping the burning house. Parched, and begging for a drink.
When Merlin leaned down to adjust the cloak on his shoulders, he couldnât help surging up to kiss him. Merlin startled, but surrendered as much as he could, and kissed him back.
They clutched at each other with shaking hands, breathing the same air. Finally, they broke apartâstaying close, touching foreheads, shuddering. Merlin was taut as a bowstring, and Lancelot traced his shoulders, his chin, his arms. Got soot on his fingers.
âI didnât sleep all last night,â Lancelot confessed. âI feared Iâd fail. That youâd beââ
Merlin shushed him. âNo. No, itâs alright.â
âThat Iâd have to watchâŠâ
âIâm alive.â He held Lancelotâs face and made him see him. âBecause of you. Iâm still here.â
âThank God,â Lancelot said, even though heâd given up praying years ago. âOh, God.â
They embraced. Sometimes, he still offered praise upwards, for lack of any alternative direction, and imagined bits of his faith disappearing across a vast, empty sky.
Clouds moved fast above the castle, silent, and Merlin and Lancelot held each other; Lancelot pressed his face to Merlinâs chest, and Merlin bent over and clutched him. Like a bird on a branch, engineered by nature to hold tightest to its perch while exhausted.
âThey wonât come after us,â Merlin said. âNot until Arthur can⊠can work through whatâs happened.â
He knew, because Lancelot had left utter carnage in his wake, and Arthur would be reeling. In Camelotâs courtyard, over a dozen corpses waited for burial under furiously rippling white sheets. Men were already talking of hunting, of justice, of revenge.
âThis is wrong,â Merlin said. âItâs allâthis wasnât supposed to happenâŠâ
âMerlinâŠâ
Merlin inhaled sharply, and held his breath to stop tears from coming, but it was a lost cause. He shook, and swallowed hard. Lancelot tried to soothe him, and leaned upwards. Kissed his cheeks, tasted salt.
âThisâs my fault,â Merlin said. âI was stupid. I wasâŠâ
âItâs not your fault.â Â
âI should have seenâAnd Agravaine is back there, still. Arthur doesnât realize the danger. What if heâwhat if now that Camelot is vulnerableâŠ? And now Iâm⊠weâreâŠâ Â
âArthur will be alright,â Lancelot said, forcing steadiness. âHeâs smart and capable, and as soon as we can come up with a plan, weâll put this right. We will, my love. I swear.â
âYou canât promise that,â Merlin said, miserably.
Lancelot had no response.
âItâs all ruined,â Merlin said. âAll of it.â
He put his forehead on Lancelotâs shoulder, and shook and shook. The angle was wrong and his neck ached, but Merlin didnât care. Lancelotâs hand went to the nape of his neck, stroking carefully. He smelled of steel-polish, and sweat, and rust; Merlin breathed him in in gulps.
âTell me what happened,â Lancelot said. âNo one would speak with me long.â
Instead of answering, Merlin tangled their fingers at the base of his skull. Four days agoâwhich could well have been a different lifeâthe two of them were close just like this, and Lancelot had made Merlin promise not to get into trouble while he was away. Merlin thought how he was exposed as a solemn liar twice in one wretched week.
âWhen did you get back?â he said, in a small voice.
âYesterday.â Â
âHow was your hunt?â
Lancelot laughed, mirthlessly. âI donât think that matters now.â
âTell me, anyway.â
Lancelot paused, then indulged him.
âSir Gareth shot three hares,â he said. âI shot five.â
âHm. Braggart.â Even though Lancelot was many thingsâarrogant, dead last.
Lancelot shouldâve had some quip to serve in return; at least, he shouldâve laughed. When he did neither of these things, Merlin pulled away, bracing himself. He didnât want to be the one to start.
âThey said youâd attacked Gwen,â Lancelot said. Heâd known it wasnât trueâand Merlin knew he knew. Still, Merlinâs face crumpled. He sat on the bench next to Lancelot, and gripped it so hard that his fingertips hurt on the peeling wood. Their shoulders touched.
âIt was Agravaine,â Merlin said. âIâm sure of it. Heâpoisoned her. I practically saw him administer the cursed nightshade.â
âCursed nightshade?â Lancelot was grave. âWhen was this?â
âThe day you left, she collapsed in the corridor. Elyan found her. I saw Agravaine the day after that, by her bed. Arthur had had her moved to Morganaâs tower, and he had no reason to be in there.â
âHe was poisoning her?â
âWhen I caught him, he left in a hurry. A vial fell from his pocket, and I took it to Gaius. The poisonâit was this⊠this enchanted tincture of nightshade. Could only be cured by magic.â
Lancelot nodded, slowly. âSo⊠you did what you had to.â
âI⊠I thought I was.â
In the hours after this conversation between loversâonce the sky turned black, Agravaine would sneak from the castle, and take a horse galloping out to the thick of the woods. And Morgana would wait, pensive and unsleeping, for news to celebrate to. She would hear of what had happened, and laugh.
âI snuck past the guards after sunset,â Merlin said. âI shouldâve realized that there werenât enough in the corridorânot while Gwen was sick. Arthur cares too much about her. But I was stupid. And I got in there, and everything was so still. I couldnât even see her breathing, Lancelot. I justâI shouldâve checked. I shouldâve been more careful. But I didnât. I went to her bed, and tried to cure her. Withâwith sage, andâŠâ
âLike you did with Uther?â Lancelot said.
âYes,â Merlin said, very quietly. âIt was like that.â
And while Morgana was laughing, Arthur would bolt awake to the sound of a windstorm, seized with terror and pain, and climb the stairs to where Guinevere waned with grey pallor. He would sit at her bedside all night, until the morning came and nothing wrong in the world was yet different.
Merlin went on, âThe sage was smoking in my hands. It was working. And then I felt thisâthis hand, on my wrist. And somehow, I knew it was Arthur, before Iâd turned around. I didnât want to face him, but there was nothing else I could do. And when I looked around, it wasâit was Arthur. The room was so dark. For a moment, I thought he was doing some spell, because the magic in my eyes was so bright it reflected in his. I didnât realize they were like fires.â
âThey are,â Lancelot said. âEvery time.â
Merlin curled over, shaking. Undone by the tenderness in Lancelotâs voice.
âIt wasnât just Arthur. Agravaine was behind him. And Leon, and a dozen other men. Theyâd been hidden behind the damn curtains. The same place I hid the Druid boy, once. I hadnât even checkedâI was such a fool.
âI shouldâve fought, but I didnât. I letâI just let Arthur arrest me. Held out my hands when he told me to. I feltâfelt numb. He wouldnât even look at me. Mostly it was Leon, giving all the commands. And Agravaine, he said something like, there you have it, sire. Weâve found the traitor. And I couldnât even say anything. I just stood there like a coward. Orâor like a traitor. I suppose. I suppose Arthur thought thatâs what I was.â
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Lancelot struggled to take it in, and Merlin hung his head. It hurt that, even now, Lancelot stayed with him like he was natural to love. It felt like another way he was forced to lie about who he was and what he was worth.
âIt was a trap,â Lancelot said, finally.
âYeah,â Merlin replied. âI only saw that after.â
âYou canât be blamed, MerlinâŠâ
âThey were readyâeven had special irons. The cuffs, they stopped my magic. I was powerless.â And heâd been terrified, but he didnât say that part. Lancelot heard it, anyway.
âAgravaine was clever,â Lancelot said, at length. âHe must have forced Arthur to assign all those men, so he would have no choice but to arrest you with them watching.â Merlin shifted uncomfortably.
âHe arrested me because he saw that I have magic.â
âI know,â Lancelot said, âbut if he had been alone. If it had just been up to him, he wouldnât haveââ
âYou donât know that,â Merlin said. Lancelot started to protest. âYou donât know. In case you forgot, Iâve been lying to him for years, for all the time Iâve known him. Every time Iâve told him to trust me; Iâve been betraying him. Men or noâhe had plenty of reasons to put me in chains.â
âMerlinââ
âJust stop! Thereâs no point saying it couldâve been different!â
Then there was silence, and in one of the lower rooms, something fell over and crashedâsuccumbing to the wind. Lancelot received Merlinâs shouting, and his expression turned stony.
They didnât get angry with one anotherâtheyâd never practiced and didnât know how.
He stood upâperhaps to go somewhere else until he was wanted. Merlin broke.
âWaitââ He reached for him. âIâm sorry. Iâm sorryâplease.â
In Camelot, Elyan and Percival shouted at each other, perhaps wouldâve come to blows if the day hadnât already seen such violence.
âYouâve been⊠youâve been nothing but good to me,â Merlin said. âIâm sorry. I didnât mean to shout.â
It was easy to stop Lancelot from going. He sighed, and sat back down, near-imperceptibly shaking. Fatigue was setting in; shock was wearing off.
Merlin put his face in his hands. âIâve been so stupid,â he whispered.
Lancelot bloomed with hurt: the bruises, and Merlinâs despair. It was wrong that Merlin should cry and Lancelot could do nothing for him. He tried anyway, and embraced him.
âIâm with you,â he said. âMy love. My lord.â
âMy knight,â Merlin answered, hollowly.
Maybe he thought Lancelot was right, but it was too painful to admit: things could have been different, another way. In another life, his magic was presented in a planned, private audience. In another, it spilled out on a whim while Merlin did his chores. In another, he saved Arthurâs life in a frightening show of power, and left bodies on display. In yet another, he confessed weeping over a war-wound he couldnât prevent or heal.
In this life, none of that.
âWhat⊠what was it for you?â Merlin said. âTell me what happened when you got back.â
Lancelot took a deep breath.
âI heard from Leon that youâd been arrested, for sorcery, and that there would be no trial because it was witnessed. But he wouldnât say any more. And Arthur wouldnât speak to any of us. I heard he was shut in his chambers.â
In another life, Lancelot stood behind him while he told Arthur, and his secret was accepted quietly, peacefully, while Arthur mulled over what concessions he could make in the law. In another, they argued and argued until it became clear that no matter how they raged against each other, they were bound like binary stars. In another, Arthur became terrified of him, and in another, the whole ordeal ended at a lake.
In this life, âI was allowed to visit Gwen, but the guards were ordered not to let me see you,â Lancelot said. âEven after I tried to pull rank. Apparently, they had been instructed specifically to keep me out.â
âI was missing you.â Merlin swallowed. âI wondered where you were. If youâd heard.â
âI had,â Lancelot said, grim. âAnd then, last night, Agravaine came to my chambers. He said he knew that Iâd tried to see you. And he threatened me.â
âHe threatened you?â Â
âHe said it would be a shame if Arthur had to discover you hadnât acted alone. I was angry. I wanted to strike him. It was a near thing.â
It scared Merlin, Lancelotâs anger. It was a new shade to him, and made him foreign.
âAndâŠâ Merlin said, âwhat happened this morning?â
âI remember looking into the courtyard, and seeing the pyre,â Lancelot said. âAnd⊠I remember thinking to take a horse, and supplies. Thinking⊠thinking I had to prevent it all. And then⊠I donât know. Itâs like something possessed meâI donât remember. I know I fought for you. Thatâs all I know.â
He reached for those hours in his memory, and it was like staggering through mist towards the edge of an unseen cliff. Shuffling his feet and listening for any signs: scattering pebbles, rocks breaking down bluffs. Anticipating the drop.
âThe guards came to fetch me at dawn,â Merlin started. âWhen they brought me out into the square, I looked for you. But I wasnât sure youâd come back at all, so⊠so. I kept imagining youâd return after it was done, and someone would have to tell you what had happened. Iâd been thinking that all night.
âI looked for Arthur, and saw him high up, on the kingâs balcony. Everyone else was there. Leon, and Elyan, and Percival. But they werenât right up against the pyre. More⊠more outside the crowd. I donât know who stationed them there, or why. And maybe they tried to look at me, but I donât know. I couldnât look at them. I didnât want them to see⊠to seeâŠâ Â
âSee what?â
âThat Iâd been crying.â
Hours behind them, in the aftermath, Arthur collapsed to his knees in the courtyard, burning his eyes on smoke and staining the knees of his trousers in blood. He almost wept openly, but was aware of his audience of injured knights, and didnât.
Merlin shuddered. âMy ears were ringing. I couldnât hear anything as the man tied me to the pole. And then, just as he lit the pyre, there was a sort ofâcommotion. I couldnât see what. The air was thick from the heat, and it was starting to smoke around me. A horse came bolting into the courtyard.
âPeople tried to get out of the way, but I think it trampled many of them. The rider was going so fast. And then⊠then I realized it was you. When you drew your sword, and the fire reflected in it, you looked like an angel in wrath.
âThe townsfolk scattered, but the knightsâArthurâs menâthey drew their swords to stop you. There was chaos. I thought something was wrong when one of them knocked your helmet off, and you barely flinched at the blow. Iâd never seen you fight like that. You must have killed nearly two dozen men, all on your own. Leon led the finest against you.â
âEven Percival?â Lancelot said.
Merlin heard him, and hesitated, then nodded.
âYou fought him. And Leon, and Elyan. AndâGwaine. You wounded Gwaine. Badly, I think. Very badly. It was as if you didnât recognize them. I saw Arthur rush inside, off the balcony, once he realized what was happening. He had his sword drawn, but⊠I didnât see him in the courtyard.â
Here was the precipice. Lancelot went over it, plummeting blind.
âI remember pulling you onto my horse,â Lancelot said, stricken. âYour hand, your weight. I remembering thinking, I canât let him fall off the horse. All I remember is you. Everything else is⊠isâŠâ He trailed off. Merlin touched his shaking hand.
âSometimes,â Merlin said, âmen go to war, and donât remember the things they do on the battlefield. Iâve seen it, once or twice.â
Lancelot went quiet. âItâs like when I was a boy,â he said. âI donât remember seeing my parents cut down. I remember seeing one of the raiders approach them with his axe. And then, nothing. I only remember the bodies.â
There was no proper response to that, and Merlin let the words be, holding Lancelotâs hands, which were white in his lap. Neither of them spoke; the wind redoubled, and the massive structure around them heaved in cold breaths.
In Camelot, several knights gathered in the council chambers without Arthur knowing. They were furious, and wanted Lancelot punished. In the morning, they would band together, and pressure the King to declare Sir Lancelot and his sorcerer consort prime enemies of the kingdom, whose capture was the highest priority.
âGwaine wasnât with the rest of them,â Merlin said, after a long moment.
Lancelot looked at him, frowning. âWhat do you mean?â
âBefore you arrived,â Merlin said, âI saw him standing aside. He seemed angry, but not at me. I sâppose Iâm being stupidâbut when the wood was lit, I saw him reaching for his sword. I think he wanted to do something. Help me, I mean.â
Understanding dawned on Lancelot.
âIt was only when you went at Percival, that GwaineâŠâ Merlin went quiet. âOnly to defend him, I think.â Lancelot waited for more, but there wasnât any.
ââŠI harmed him,â he said. âAnd I shouldnât have. You think I shouldnât have. Thatâs what youâre saying.â
Merlin blinked. âThatâsânot what I meant.â
âI see how youâre looking at me.â Â
âIâwhat? How am I looking atââ
âI donât know, Merlin. How are you looking at me? After seeing what you sayâseeing what I did. What do you think of it? Of me?â
His tone was sharp, and Merlin was taken aback. If Lancelot was angry at him, he couldnât stand it. He was all Merlin had.
âI⊠I donâtâŠâ
âI didnât seeââ Lancelot said, âI mean, I didnât know. If Iâd knownââ
He needed to move, and stood up from the bench. Every muscle in his body protested, but he forced himself to stand. And he paced like a caged creature. His eyes landed on his sword, sheathed and carefully set on the floor, and it occurred to him that if heâd done everything Merlin had said, the sword would have blood on it. Blood he hadnât had the presence of mind to wash off. Blood belonging to his friends.
 In a burst of panic or anger or fearâhe couldnât say whichâLancelot picked up his sword and threw it across the room, scabbard and all. It hit the wall and clattered loudly. Merlin flinched; his eyes were wide. Lancelot was a dangerous man, and somehow, he was just now realizing it.
âYou were tied there!â Lancelot said. His voice broke. âYou looked afraid. You lookedâlooked vulnerable! AndâandâandâI remember putting my sword so hard through something, that the blood got on my knuckles. The tip of it broke bone. And someone screamed. Someone⊠someone⊠oh, God. Someoneââ
âStopââ Merlin said. He didnât want to hear this, and he didnât want to fight. âJustâstop, alright? I wasnât saying anything. I wasnâtâI didnât mean anything.â
âI didnât mean⊠I didnât meanâŠâ
All at once, his body gave out, and Lancelot collapsed to his knees, wracked and unsteady. At the same time, leagues away, Camelotâs court physician rinsed out another blood-soaked cloth, and tended his patient. All the while, he prayed to any Old gods who would forgive him: begging them to keep Merlin safe.
âHow badly was he wounded?â Lancelot said.
Merlin was silent. âGaius is a good physician,â he said, hushed.
âMerlin.â
âHeâll save him. I know heââ
âMerlin, please.â
When they met eyesâLancelot on his knees, Merlin standing at the benchâMerlinâs eyes were wide and manic. He choked on his words:
âYour sword went through him.â
Lancelot blinked as that hit him. He floated for a moment in a cushioned, distanced calm. Then the blow found its mark, and he lurched, clutching his middle because something had gone wrong inside himâit must have, to feel like this. Lancelot folded over, unable to get enough air.
He stayed there for a long time, shaking badly.
Merlin went to him, and knelt, and wrapped his arms around him, desperate to dosomething, anything useful. He cast around.
âAre you cold?â he said. âIâll find wood somewhere⊠start a fire.â
âI love you,â Lancelot rasped, but it didnât sound sweet. It wasnât affection, but an excuse: pleading not-guilty because he wasnât in his right mind. He was in love: an affliction as dangerous as any curse.
Merlin felt so, so lost. âI love you, too.â
âI couldnât stand any harm coming to you.â
âI know.â
âMy life would have been worth nothing ifââ
âDonât talk like this.â
ââif youâd burned. If Iâd done nothing.â
âStop, please.â
âI swore Iâd be yours. What kind of man would I be?â Â
Merlin was frustrated. He didnât care about Lancelot martyring his honour for him. Maybe Lancelot thought it was romantic, or hoped it was. Needed it to be. But for Merlin, it was simply more guilt he didnât want on him.
âYour life wouldnât have been worth nothing,â Merlin said. âDonât say that.â
At last, Lancelot went silent. Crouched on the ground, any heat either of them had bled out to feed the aging stones. Perhaps Merlin shouldâve started a fire after all. It was freezing in here.
Lancelot waited for Merlin to give up, and let him go. He thought, eventually, Merlin would see his actions for the horrors they were. He would become disgusted: in an hour, a week, a month. Abandon Lancelot somewhere and flee. When it came to that, Lancelot resolved to leave first and save Merlin the trouble.
The little moon hanging above them began to dim, and Merlin looked up at it: stared until his eyes glowed like kindling. Reluctantly, it grew brighter in another long quiet.
Lancelot breathed raggedly, then too-fast, and finally he settled. Â
âDo you⊠remember the Isle of the Blessed?â Lancelot said, soft. He drew himself up better, to sit on his knees, and Merlin frowned. âWhen you fought the Cailleach, and forced her to close the Veil. And no one had to die? It was a miracle.â
Merlin remembered. âAfterwards, thatâs when you kissed me.â
âI did. I realized Iâd wanted to, for a long time.â
âMe?â Merlin said. âIâm nothing special. Iâm justâŠâ
Lancelot kissed him, tenderly and sweet, to show him what he thought of that. When he pulled away, he smiled the way only dead loved ones do, in memories.
âI was going to die for you,â he admitted. âIf you couldnât prevail⊠if a sacrifice had to be made. I was going to make sure it was I.â
What could Merlin say to that? He shook his head, lips pressed tight.
âIâd never considered dying for someone before,â Lancelot said, âuntil you talked about finding something more important than anything. Merlin, you were everything I wanted to be. I was enamoured by it. I knew then, I would die for it.â
âDonât,â Merlin said.
âI love you.â
Merlin didnât want to talk about death and dying and sacrifice. He shook his head again, firmer. Touched Lancelotâs chest. He closed his eyes tight, because he couldnât cry again; he was too exhausted to do this.
âGo back to talking about afterwards. Please,â Merlin said, voice thin. âAbout why you kissed me.â
Lancelot heard him, and paused. He couldnât deny him, and sighedâlong and deep and worshipful.
âAfter you vanquished the Cailleach,â he said, obliging, âyou seemed like a god. There was a storm above your head, like a black crown. I though how my mother told me once that the Devil would come in disguise, like something beautiful. And I understood, just then. You seduced me with the dark specks on your cheeks, standing tall like something wild.â
âPoet,â Merlin whispered.
âBut later, at the feast, you seemed a different sort of deity. The kind that blesses harvests and puts life in flowers.â
ââŠYeah?â
âSetting up for the feast where I was honoured for your deed, I saw you drop a spool of ribbon, and you got this⊠this look on your face. You watched it roll like it was made of gold, and you were resigned to a fate of ruin: having to ravel it all back up. It was only ribbon, but you looked so grave that I laughed aloud. I donât think you noticed, but Iâd never felt anything so pure for anyone in my life.â
âBecause I dropped a spool of ribbon?â Merlin couldnât feel charmed, or indignant, or incredulous; he couldnât feel anything but cold.
âI wanted to go over and wrap both our hands in it,â Lancelot said. âI wanted to kiss you right there.â
âWhy didnât you?â
âI should have.â
Lancelot fell silent again. Merlinâs chest ached so hard he lost his breath, and he reached for Lancelot. They locked together, like if they could strain fiercely enough, their edges would disappear. The wind wailed.
In Camelot, Arthur and Percival sat around the bed in Merlinâs abandoned room, where Gwaine lay slack-faced and white-skinned, breathing shallow and shallower.
âDo you think heâll be alright?â Lancelot said. âYes.â Merlin sounded faint. âI think heâll be alright.â
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For @mercelotweek day 6: bamf!Lancelot
AO3. 6/6
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âAre you ready?â Merlin asked, ignoring Lancelotâs perfectly good chairs and sitting on his table.
âYes, ready to set my chambers on fire again.â Merlin rolled his eyes. That had been a long time ago, and Merlin had placed enchantments on the curtains to keep them from burning. They hadnât tried them out yet, though. âWhat do I do?â
Merlin opened the book on the marked page, as if he hadnât dedicated the past few nights to memorising this chapter.
âCome here,â Merlin said. Lancelot stepped in front of him, way closer than necessary. Merlinâs mind went blank at the sight of Lancelot between his thighs. He swallowed before continuing. "Hold your hands like youâre holding water, like this. Yes, keep them like that.â
Merlin took the Amulet of the Dragon from where it lay on the table and placed it in the middle of Lancelotâs hands. He then made the same gesture with his own and held them over Lancelotâs. His skin tingled where it touched Lancelotâs, and he couldnât blame the ritual yet.
âRepeat after me,â Merlin said. He started chanting in the language of the old religion: âThe power harnessed in the Dragonlordâs soul, channel it to he who holds the shield.âÂ
Lancelot repeated it perfectly. Merlin lit a fire in his palms. It made Lancelotâs eyes glow with its flickering light.
âLet the fire run in both veins.â Merlin watched Lancelotâs lips move, forming the words of old as if it were his native tongue. âLet the blaze be born from both hands.â
Merlinâs fire glowed the colour of wine, and he opened his palms, letting it fall to the coin in Lancelotâs.
âLet the channel be created.â
It absorbed the flame, glowing bright with harmless heat until it faded. Merlin stared at it, sitting innocuously in Lancelotâs hands. He didnât dare breathe. His only thought was, âCome on, work.â But nothing kept happening.
He sighed, resigned to spend more sleepless nights translating the stupid book they stole from the stupid vaults that wasnât even in stupid English. And then his head exploded in pain.
He screamedâ or he thought he did, because even though he could feel it in his throat, he couldnât hear anything. Only a ringing in his ears. He tried to open his eyes andâ no, they werenât closed. He couldnât see. Distantly, he felt Lancelotâs hands on him, keeping him upright. An eternity passed until he could hear again, but he didnât lift his face from where it was buried in the crook of Lancelotâs neck.
âLancelot?â Merlin breathed when the pain became bearable.
âMerlin?â Lancelot leaned back, grabbing Merlinâs face with one hand to look at him. âWhat happened? Are you well? Do you want me toââ
âJustâŠâ The movement made him dizzy, and he dropped his head on Lancelotâs shoulder. âJust hold me. For now.â
Lancelot wrapped his arm tighter around him and ran his fingers through his hair. That was great. Once he began feeling normal again (or as close to normal as he was going to get; his body felt⊠weird), he noticed Lancelot was shivering. Merlin pulled back to look at him.
âAre you okay?â
âI think so.â Lancelot didnât let Merlin go, even though he didnât look much better than Merlin himself. âIt doesnât hurt. I⊠I think itâs your power. Coursing through me. Itâs so much.â
Merlinâs cheeks burned, and he was both desperate to push Lancelot away and get him to hold him for the rest of the night.Â
âIâm sorry.â
âDonât be,â he said with a frown. His hand was on Merlinâs neck now, stroking lightly. Then his face lit up with a smile that could put the sun to shame.Â
âŠAnd now he was waxing poetic about Lancelot in his mind, which meant he must be back to normal.Â
Lancelot whispered through his smile, all excited: âI can do magic now.âÂ
Very specific and potentially dangerous to his well-being magic, yes. But Merlin didnât try to go over that again. It was Lancelot who had pressed until Merlin had accepted. Granted, it hadnât taken much pressing because he couldnât resist Lancelotâs brown, pleading eyes. But he firmly believed this was either going to be one of their best ideas yet or one of the very worst.
Merlin smiled back, unable to be unaffected by Lancelotâs glee. âTry it out.â
Lancelot stepped away from him. He had been very warm, and Merlin was left cold sitting there on the table. Lancelot stared at his hands for a good while before saying:
âI donât know what to do.â
Merlin looked around the room until he found a candle, which he summoned to his hand.
âLetâs start small,â he said.
âI remember you telling me the first fire you lit was as tall as your house.â He raised an eyebrow at him.
âThe more reason to do as I say, not as I do.â
Lancelot snorted and took the candle. He looked at the wick intently, even narrowing his eyes until they were almost closed, but it remained unlit.
âTry to, umâŠâ Merlin started, but he wasnât sure how to explain it. How do you teach a man to breathe? âTry to imagine the candle burning. And push the magic towards it.â
âPush it⊠how?â Lancelot didnât take his eyes off it. Merlin wanted to answer, âJust push it,â but he was aware that would not be helpful at all.
âWhat about we try with a spell first?â he said instead. Lancelot looked at him and nodded. âForbearnahn.â The candle lit up instantly, and just as quickly, he extinguished it.
âForbearnahn,â Lancelot repeated.Â
Merlin felt it a fraction of a second before it happened: His magic being pulled, as minuscule a spell as it was. And then the candle was lit between them. Lancelot laughed, his eyes seeking Merlin, full of exhilaration. Merlin laughed with him, giddy.
It worked. He almost couldnât believe it. He hadnât allowed himself to believe it, to let it sink in until he saw the gold fading from Lancelotâs eyes. Lancelot had magic. His magic.
Lancelot moved to stand in front of the fireplace, he raised his hands and said the spell out loud. It came to life with a roar and a flame so tall that Merlin worried for a moment. Lancelot laughed again and started lighting every single candle in his chambers, one by one.Â
Merlin stayed at the table, keeping an eye on the fires, but mostly watching Lancelot. With each new candle lit, he felt the pull of magic inside him, deep in his belly and crawling down his body like a shiver.
âWhen you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail,â Merlin said when Lancelot started looking around the room for more things to light up. âAnd I guess when you have fire magic, everything looks like kindling.â
Lancelot laughed again and went back to stand in front of Merlin. Not between his legs this time, which he was grateful for since he would like to keep his remaining sanity for today.
âWhat else can I do?â Lancelot asked. Merlin honestly didnât know. He wasnât certain what the binding counted as âDragonlordâ powers and what as Merlinâs own.
âTry making something with the smoke.â He gestured with his head to the fireplace. âLike an animal.â
Lancelot stared at the hearth, his eyes narrowed. When nothing happened for too long, Lancelot raised his hands towards it. Merlin felt his magic shape something amidst the smoke, but it didnât leave yet. It was terribly intimate, in a way he hadnât known to prepare for. The feeling of Lancelot using his magic, coaxing it from him. As if Lancelot were inside him. It was as addictive as it was terrifying.
A bird made of smoke flew from the fireplace. At first, the flap of its wings was too slow for its speed, making it look uncanny. Then it was too fast. As Lancelot made it circle the room, his hand guiding it or following it or both, it began to gain a better form. The flaps aligned with the speed, it oscillated up and down rhythmically, and it even got a more defined shape.
âYouâre a natural,â Merlin congratulated him, unable to take his eyes off it. âIt took me days to get mine to look that good.â
âI think itâs you.â Lancelot dropped his hand and looked at Merlin. The bird dissolved not long after. âI can feel it, I think. How the magic is all yours.â He shifted closer to Merlin and âoh, Goddessâ took his hand between his. âI would remain tethered to you for the rest of my life, if youâd let me.â
And Merlinâ how was he supposed to answer to that? He swallowed, and as he gripped Lancelotâs hand with his and pulled him closer, he scorned himself for ever doubting this.
Lancelotâs face was rough where his stubble grazed Merlinâs skin, but his lips were soft. As soft as the first time they kissed, but this actually felt real. This was real, not a lie, not an excuse. This wouldnât go away in the morning.
Merlin wrapped his arms around his neck and drew them closer to each other, trying to get as much of Lancelotâs body on him as physically possible. Lancelot found again his place between Merlinâs legs and dragged Merlin closer to the edge of the table, hips pressing flush. Lancelot swallowed the sound that escaped Merlinâs lips, attacking his mouth as he was.
Merlin unfastened Lancelotâs belt and started tugging at his tunic, and on the third tug, Lancelot got the message and pulled it off.
âWhy havenât we been doing this before?â Merlin asked. He ran a hand down Lancelotâs chest, touch feather light, relishing in the way he shuddered.
âRight now, I cannot think of a single valid reason,â Lancelot answered, which was a prettied-up way of saying, âbecause weâre both stupid and cowardly,â probably. Merlin dug his fingers into Lancelotâs pectoral, feeling the muscle under them.
Lancelot kissed him again. Then his cheek and his neck, his hands sneaking under Merlinâs tunic. Merlin helped him pull it off. And though Lancelotâs skin was hot against his, it washed him with the same relief of cold water in summer.
Merlin ran his hands through Lancelotâs hair and stressed his bottom lip with his teeth. He wanted to say something, something kind of sappy and romantic like, âI donât want to ever let you go.â He was going to say it. Really. He pulled away and took a deep breathâ
And the door to Lancelotâs chambers banged open.
âLancelot, do you know where Merlin iâ oh. Oh.â Gwen stood right there at the door, gaping at them.
âGwen.â Lancelot cleared his throat and retrieved Merlinâs tunic from the floor. Merlin hastily put it on, trying to will away the burning of his cheeks. And of the rest of his body.
âI canât believe it.â Gwen put her hands on her hips and scowled at Merlin. âEveryone kept saying you two were courting, but I insisted that couldnât be true, since that would be something my best friend would bother to tell me, isnât it?â
âUm,â Merlin said. Grandiloquently.
âI canât believe I had to catch you making out to find out you were finally together!â
âWe werenât making out,â Merlin quickly stumbled. âWe were, erm, practising witchcraft.â
âWitchcraft,â Gwen deadpanned. Lancelot pinched Merlinâs leg. When Merlin glanced at him, his eyes were wide on him.
âYes. Sorcery. Magic. We actually lit all these candles with spells. And such.â
âAha.â
âIâm so, so serious.â
âIâm sure.â
âBecause youâre my best friend and Iâd tell you if we were, you know. Courting.â
Maybe it was the way the word left his mouth, maybe it was the way he couldnât keep himself from looking at Lancelot when he said it, but Gwen seemed to understand. He had, after all, talked her ear off about his feelings for Lancelot, time and time again. Keeping some compromising details out, of course. Honestly, if she and Arthur had started courting and either of them hadnât told him, he would have reacted the same.
âAlright,â she said, offering him a smile. He smiled back. Courting.
âWhy were you looking for Merlin?â Lancelot asked after an appropriate amount of silence.
âOh! Yes, sorry. Gaius needs you, Merlin. People are dying.â
Merlin cursed under his breath and jumped off the table. Before he could get too far, Lancelot grabbed his hand.
âWitchcraft, really?â he whispered. Merlin shrugged with one shoulder. âIâm starting to regret a few things,â he said, but he had trouble hiding the smile from his voice.
âIâll see you later?â Merlin asked.
âIâll be waiting for you.â
With that, they had a last (for now!) chaste kiss, and Lancelot let him go. He no longer felt cold where they stopped touching. Lancelotâs warmth remained all the way across the castle, and until he returned to his arms late at night.
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For @mercelotweek day 5: "what about me?"
AO3. 5/6
---
It was entirely too early for someone to be knocking at Merlinâs door. âGo away,â he mumbled against his pillow. Or maybe he dreamed he did. Either way, the knocking did not go away.
When he heard Arthurâs voice on the other side of the door he did startle, completely awake.
He sat up, and only then did he notice the arms wrapped around his middle. They tightened their grip in protest at his movements. Right. Lancelot. Right.
Right.
He tried not to freak out at the thought of Lancelot in his bed, sleeping next to him. Sleeping with him. In the literal sense. They had been exhausted last night, and it had been very cold, and clearly, Merlin wasn't thinking straight when he had asked him to stay.
So they stayed in Merlinâs room, and they both refused to let the other sleep on the floor and, well. Here Merlin was, crawling over Lancelot to get out of bed and trying his best not to wake him up.
Also trying his best not to stand there and stare at him like a creep. Because obviously, obviously, Lancelot slept without a shirt on.
He slipped out of his room, gently closing the door, and he had to close his eyes and rub them at the sudden onslaught of sunlight. When he opened them, it was to the cheery view of Arthur standing there, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. Merlin glanced at the window. It was well past breakfast time.
âDo you want me to fetch your breakfast, sire?â
Arthur rolled his eyes. Merlin didnât understand why he was there at all, dressed up and ready to scold Merlin. He knew for a fact Arthur had gotten quite drunk at last nightâs Yule feast, since he had even released Merlin early from his duties. The last he saw of him, Arthur had been deep enough in his cups to flirt with Gwen in publicâ right at the royal table, in fact. Quite awfully, if Merlin was being honest, but it somehow charmed Gwen nonetheless.
âOh! Do you need hangover medicine?â Merlin asked, already moving to the bench. If he made Arthurâs hangover go away, there was a chance heâd forget about the breakfast thing, and Merlin wouldnât have to muck the stables or be a practice dummy orâ
âThatâs not why Iâm here,â Arthur said. When he saw Merlin stop mid-way with the vial in his hand, he gestured at him to hurry. âI didnât say I didnât want it. Iâm going to need it to deal with this.â
Arthur drank it all quickly, with his whole face scrunched up at the taste. Merlin was certain they didnât need to taste that horrendously; Gaius just enjoyed their suffering. Arthur sighed, suddenly looking as tired as Merlin felt. Then he straightened up and called to the door:
âCome in.â
Two guards entered the physicianâs chambers, which made Merlin think, âOh no.â Then Agravaine stepped in, with the vicious smirk of the cat that got the cream, the canary and the whole feast, which made Merlin think, âOh, shit.â
âLord Agravaine claims last night you entered his chambers while he attended the feast and stole his jewellery,â Arthur said. Which⊠was not what he was expecting at all.
Out of the things he did last nightâ most of them illegal or at least frowned upon, and out of all the things he had stolen from the castle, Agravaine had managed to accuse him of the one thing he hadnât done.
Arthur must have seen it in his face, because he continued: âI already told him you have been at my service for many years, and the only things you dare steal from the crown are my sausages.â Arthur sounded more offended about the sausages than about the Agravaine thing. Merlin opened his mouth to protest, but then thought about it and closed it.
âI know it was you.â Agravaine pointed a finger at him. âMy manservant and these two guards saw you enter my chambers late at night. And when I woke up this morning, I noticed many of my things were gone.â Agravaine smiled and then extended his hands as if he were offering Merlin a blessing. âGive them back now, and Iâll only ask for your banishment instead of your execution.â
Arthur rolled his eyes. It warmed Merlinâs heart, a little. Knowing he trusted Merlin more than he believed his uncle. He probably thought someone else was blaming Merlin, and after they searched Merlinâs rooms and found nothing, theyâd go and find the real thief.
âI didnât steal them. I was nowhere near your chambers. My lord.â
And they probably hadnât been stolen at all, had they? He tried to eye the guards. They must have the jewellery hidden beneath their armour. It wasnât the first time something like this happened to him, but heâd very much like it for it to be the last. It was already getting tiring.
âWhere were you, then?â Agravaine asked, his smile broadening.
It hit Merlin, then. Like a bucket of ice-cold water. He knew. He knew where he had been last night. Not only thatâ he knew what he was, who he was. Of course he did, it was no coincidence that he was desperately trying to rid of him right now.
âI didnât see you before the feast,â Agravaine goaded.
Merlin had left to hunt down the sorceress that Morgana had sent to poison the food. Merlin had gotten to the kitchens just in time to find her with a vial in her hand, hovering over a barrel of wine.
It had been a very dramatic fight, but thankfully very quick. As they threw magic at each other, she made as much of a mess as possible. Merlin, well, he tried not to, but did it anyway. He had managed to hold her down with magic, and thatâs when she realised who he was. Surprisingly, she gave up instead of doubling down. Merlin appreciated it, it would have been a whole mess to kill her.
Now that he thought about it, he didnât know how she had managed to get the kitchen to empty the moment it usually was at its busiest. He hoped she had done something nasty to Cook. Boils in her hands, or something.
âI was helping in the kitchens,â Merlin answered.
âInstead of dressing me?â Arthur questioned with a raised eyebrow. He leaned against the table and grabbed an apple from it.
âDid you enjoy the venison or not?â Merlin shot back, and Arthur just shrugged and bit the apple. It would be funny how much he wasnât taking this seriously if Merlin werenât so nervous.
âYou left the feast early,â Agravaine said. âI saw you. Where did you go?â
The sorceress had told him to meet outside the northern wall, that she needed to show him something. Lancelot had caught him on his way out and called him rude names for walking willingly into a trap. So instead, they both went and walked willingly into a trap.
And it turned out not to be a trap! She showed them that underneath the snow, right before the forest, she had planted a small army of evil tree-creatures, and they were making their way towards the castle. She had said Morgana had given her the seeds, and she didnât know how to stop them. She had said, âI believe in you, Emrys,â and promptly left him to deal with it by himself.
Which he did. Setting them on fire had been hard, cold and soaked with snow as they had been. But with Lancelot cutting them in half with his hastily enchanted sword and him throwing balls of fire at them, they had managed.
âI was here.â
âHere,â Agravaine raised an eyebrow. Merlin nodded. Agravaine scoffed.
He must have seen them. The royal wingâs windows oversaw the northern forest. He must have been waiting for the creatures to take over while everyone was incapacitated by the poisoned wine. Morgana made the most awful plans. He was sure if she really wanted to kill them all, she could just summon lightning and zap them all to death. She didnât only because she loved the theatrics.
âIt is your word against three.â To the guards, he said, âsearch his rooms.â
Merlin hurried to stand in front of his door. âThis is ridiculous. I didnât steal anything.â
If they entered his room, the first thing theyâd see, lying right in the middle of his desk, would be the clearly magical tome he stole from the vaults months ago.
âWhereâs Gaius?â Arthur asked, looking around as if just noticing the physicianâs absence from the physicianâs chambers.
âHe spent Yule with his girlfriend.â
âHe has a girlfriend?â Arthur almost choked on the apple.
âAlice!â Merlin said, exasperated. âI told you about her. Multiple times!â Honestly.
âOhh.â Arthurâs eyes widened. âI didnât know they were serious.â
âTheyâre getting serious, he canât stop talking about herââ
âEnough,â Agravaine said. Right. He had forgotten. âSo youâre saying there is no one who can vouch you werenât in my chambers?â
âUm,â Merlin said. Before he could become any more eloquent, the door behind him opened.
âWhat about me?â Lancelotâs soft footsteps stopped right next to Merlin. âAm I witness enough?â His tone was tinted with laughter, and when Merlin looked at him, he saw he was wearing one of Merlinâs tunics. Goddess save him.
Arthurâs eyebrows were at his hairline, but he didnât seem surprised at all. Merlin would appreciate he at least pretended to be as shocked as Merlin was.
âYouâre trying to tell me you were with him here last night?â Agravaine scowled.
Lancelot pressed closer to Merlin and wrapped an arm around him. He pulled Merlin flush to his side and gave his waist a quick squeeze. Merlin struggled to breathe.
âAll night,â Lancelot said, putting an emphasis on all. Agravaine caught on and turned a hilarious shade of red.
âI donât believe you.â He pointed a finger at Lancelot. âThe both of you stole from me, thenââ
âUncle, enough,â Arthur said. He pushed off the table and tossed his half-chewed apple there. âMerlin has my trust in these matters, and Lancelot is the most honourable of my knights. Your sources must be mistaken.â Arthur glanced at the guards behind Agravaine, who suddenly looked very interested in the wall decorations.
âBut, my Lordââ
Arthur raised a hand, silencing him. âI will have my best men looking for the culprit, day and night if necessary.â
And that was it. Agravaine sent Merlin a last glare, to which Merlin answered with a shallow bow. Arthur left last. With a hand on the doorâs pommel, he looked back at them and said:
âDonât let this between you make you slack on your duties.â
Merlin said, âDonât worryâ at the same time Lancelot said, âOf course not, my Lord.â
âI wasnât talking to you, Merlin. Youâre already terrible at your job.â
âHey!â Merlin shouted, but he was already gone. He felt more than heard Lancelotâs chuckle, and that was when he realised they were alone, and Lancelot still had them pressed against each other.
Merlin didnât move away, but didnât dare to pull him even closer, either. And wasnât that the essence of how he had been dealing with his feelings for Lancelot for months now? Their one kiss outside the vaults notwithstanding. They hadnât talked about it, after all. Hadnât even mentioned it. Maybe for Lancelot, it had just been like what he had done now, a fun little lie to throw others off their scent.
With a last squeeze to his waist, Lancelot let him go. Merlin felt the loss immediately.
âDid you see his face?â Lancelot laughed. Merlin forced himself to smile. He went to Merlinâs room, and as he stepped up the stairs, he looked back at him. âAre you going back to sleep?â
Merlin considered it for a moment. He should be getting ready to leave to tidy Arthurâs rooms, get his clothes for the laundress, fetch his lunch⊠But Arthur did just say he was terrible at his job. So he might as well.
They lay back in bed. He rested his head on Lancelotâs shoulder and threw an arm over his stomach. Lancelot pressed his face to Merlinâs hair. He could feel his heart in his throat.
Lying in bed, Lancelotâs breathing soothing him, his scent surrounding him⊠he could get used to this. He really, really wanted to get used to this.
Maybe for Lancelot, it was only a fun little lie to throw them off their scent. But right now, Lancelot pressed closer to him, and breathed deeply into his hair, and his fingers traced patterns on his skin. And maybeâ maybe not. Maybe he was not so wrong for thinking it was something more for Lancelot, too.
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Heyyy I just wanted to thank you for running this fest. I love love love this ship but can never find an excuse to write for them. Thank you so so so much đ©”
this is so cuteđđthank you all so so so much for participating!!! i love merlance with my entire heart too and im so glad other people love them just as muchđđ
#ashley answers#a lot. happened in my life yesterday so i was a bit behind đim sorry yall. but I AM BACKKK#i wanna write a lil smth smth toođ€đ#đđđ
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Burn My Heart (Fill My Dreams) by augustulus (2.3k words)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence; Heavy Angst
Summary:
Lancelot begins dreaming of Merlin.
For @mercelotweek day 4: "i will be the greatest loss of your life."
#Day 4: i will be the greatest loss of your life + humorđ#đ#mercelotweek2025#mercelot#merlance
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin) Characters: Lancelot (Merlin), Merlin (Merlin) Additional Tags: Banished Merlin (Merlin), Hurt Merlin (Merlin), Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Arthur Pendragon Finds Out About Merlinâs Magic (Merlin), And heâs not happy about it, Supportive Lancelot (Merlin), Lancelot Loves Merlin (Merlin), Gwaine is mentioned doing Gwaine things, I.E protecting Merlin, Suicidal Ideation, be careful if that bothers you, Dark Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Kind Of, He does try to kill Merlin, sooo, But heâs only really mentioned Summary:
T.W Passive Suicidal Ideation
The tears had dried. Still staining Merlinâs lovely face, framing it in pain and agony, but no longer creating rivers with their treacherous path. Not for a lack of trying, but for a lack of energy. Clear as day in the empty look in his eyes, the sniffles still persisting on each breath.
Written for Day 2 of @mercelotweek 2025, for the prompt âdo you not get it? we donât ever get a happy ending, we donât ever go home!â + hurt/comfort
#Day 2: do you not get it? we don't ever get a happy ending we don't ever go home! + hurt/ comfortđ§Ą#đ§Ą#mercelot#merlance
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@mercelotweek Day 4: âitâs strange. i felt less lonely when i didnât know you.â
#mercelotweek2025#Day 4: it's strange. i felt less lonely when i didn't know you. + greenđ#mercelot#merlance#đ
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For @mercelotweek day 4: humor
AO3. 4/6
---
Merlin needed to steal something from the vaults. Again.
It wasnât as bad as it sounded, really. It was only a book. A very powerful and very magical in nature book, but still a book nonetheless. It wasnât like he was stealing ingots of gold or anything, so really, the King should be thanking him for ridding his beautiful vault of such a not-vault-worthy thing.
Thatâs how he justified it to Lancelot when he asked for his help to get in. Not that Lancelot needed any justificationâ he heard the words âstealâ and âmagicâ and didnât even hesitate to agree. Like a dog wagging its tail upon hearing the word âwalk.â
Merlin needed to stop thinking such things about Lancelot.
Back to the thievery: Merlin had even planned this one out. See, a part of a knightâs duties was standing guard at the most critical locations inside the castle, such as the royal chambers, armoury, or the vault. The day it was Lancelotâs turn to take the post, Merlin handed him an enchanted waterskin. Whoever drank from it would develop a cold immediately. A mild one. Hopefully. He was pretty certain it would be mild.
That night, he stood by the stairs leading down to the vaults, waiting silently. When he heard steps climbing up, he started walking away as if he were passing through. Even though it was too late for servants to be wandering these parts of the castle.
âOh, Merlin, thank God.â Merlin turned at the voice, feigning surprise. Sir Galahad looked sweaty and feverish, his eyes glazed, and Merlin became a little less certain it would be a mild cold. âPlease inform Prince Arthur I must leave my post, I need to go to see the physician. I fear whatever curse is afflicting me is contagious.â
Merlin grimaced at the word âcurse.â He hoped Sir Galahad wouldnât remember it come morning. He also hoped Gaius didnât suspect he had a hand in this. He hoped for many things.
Merlin told him heâd do it immediately and wished him a swift recovery. As soon as Galahad turned to leave, Merlin went in the opposite direction of the royal chambers.Â
Lancelot was waiting for him downstairs. He greeted Merlin with a smile that almost made him trip and fall down the last steps. They didnât say a word. With a murmured spell, Merlin unlocked the heavy doors and slipped in.
It felt like he spent hours in there. Not only was it a big room, it had endless shelves and crates filled with trinkets over trinkets over even more trinkets. Many of them were humming with magic, begging Merlin to take them with him.
He only took what he had come for, though. When he finally found it. An old tome bound in leather. A gilded dragon on the front looked at him with eyes made of emeralds.Â
Just then, Lancelot half-stepped into the vault, standing in the space left by the ajar door. With a panicked expression and hurried hand motions, he mouthed at Merlin, âhurry up.â
Merlin got out as silently and quickly as he could. There was no one else there, but he could hear footsteps slowly descending the stairs. A guard or a knight, by the clinking of armour.
He closed the door and, with another spell, locked it. It made a sound. Just an itty, tiny bit, way too loud sound. The footsteps above stopped, and Merlin heard a sword slowly being drawn. Great.
He looked at Lancelot with wide eyes. He was a hairâs breadth away from him, so close Merlin was touching Lancelotâs armour with the back of his hands, which held the book to his chest. Lancelot hadnât backed away when Merlin exited the vault.
Lancelot mouthed something, but Merlin couldnât decipher it. He was distracted by the movement of Lancelotâs lips so close to him.
And thatâs when the terrible idea popped into his mind.Â
âKiss me,â he mouthed. Lancelot stared at his lips, a confused frown on his face. Not good at reading lips either. Merlin heard the knightâs heavy footsteps quicken their approach. He grabbed Lancelotâs neck and almostâ almost cut the distance between them completely. A single twitch and their lips would be touching.
Lancelot was too close for him to be able to read his expression. He could only tell his eyes widened and his lips parted. Merlin had stopped breathing, and Lancelot too, because he didnât feel his breath on his face.Â
They didnât need to kiss, not really. There were already rumours about them, spread through the castle like wildfire. Started by them, more or less on purposeâ though truthfully less. It was convenient for when they were found in odd places at odd times, or in⊠curious situations. Arthur would ask, âWhere were you last night?â and Merlin would answer, âWith Lancelot,â and theyâd leave it at that. They didnât confirm anything, they didnât deny anything.Â
It wasnât real, though. As much as he wished it was, it was only a cover. An excuse better than the tavern, a lie he wanted to become truth.
Lancelotâs lips brushing his, though⊠that felt real. It felt all much too real, when the feather-light touch became more of a pressure. And then Lancelotâs lips were unquestionably on his. Slightly parted, wet with saliva, breath hot on his face. It was so real and so much better than what Merlin had imagined.
Lancelot pressed closer, making Merlinâs back hit the doors. His whole body was against Merlinâs now; his legs, his mailed chest, and his hands scorching hot where they grabbed Merlinâs hips. Lancelot tilted his head, deepening the kiss, pressing to Merlin even more. As if he wanted to fuse their bodies together. Merlin was unable to do anything but hold onto him with his free hand and kiss back with the hunger of a man who had never known sustenance.
He wasnât even able to hear anything over the sound of his own heartbeat. Until the whirring of a sword being sheathed startled them both enough to jump from each other, hitting their noses in the process.
Leaning against the wall in front of them was a very smug-looking Gwaine.Â
Merlin didnât know how to feel about that. Because on one hand, even if they straight up told Gwaine he had just stolen from the vaults, he would not rat them out, so they were safe. On the other hand, he had just interrupted his first âand probably onlyâ kiss with Lancelot. So he kind of wanted to throw the stupid book at his face.
âGwaine.â Lancelot cleared his throat, stepping back from Merlin, but not completely facing away from him.
âNo, no. Donât stop on my behalf.â He smirked, placing his arms behind his head and making himself comfortable.
âI should go,â Merlin murmured. He clutched the book to his chest and slowly stepped around Lancelot. Reluctant to get out of there, but unable to look at him in the eye.
He wanted Lancelot to stop him. To ask him to stay. To kiss him again. Merlin kept walking, no fingers around his wrist or a wait stopping him.Â
Sometimes, Merlin got the feeling Lancelot, too, liked him like that. Wanted him like that. He had kissed him just now, hadn't he? He thought sometimes Lancelotâs eyes lingered a bit too long on him, or touched him when there was no need, or sought his company out over that of others. But it may just be that they were close friends and people are, you know, friendlier with their close friends.Â
Goddess, he should never have kissed him. It was going to drive him insane.
âIâll, um, see you later,â Lancelot called after him.Â
Merlin nodded and hurried without looking back. He also ignored Gwaineâs cheerful goodbye, and later felt kind of bad about it. It wasnât his fault Merlin was physically unable to think before doing things. To be fair, it was extremely hard to think when Lancelot was as close as he had been right then and there.Â
As he rushed up the stairs, he heard Gwaine say: âI heard a noise down here, like a door closing. I was worried.â
Lancelot answered: âYou should have worried somewhere else.â
Gwaine laughed at that, but Merlinâ it made his heart beat a little bit faster. It may have been his wishful imagination, but Lancelot had sounded as upset as Merlin felt.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [+1]
#mercelotweek2025#Day 4: i will be the greatest loss of your life + humorđ#đ#merlance#mercelot
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Then you wonder that I love so unconsciously Itâs like the worldâs about to end When you ask me, why I throw myself into the fire Straight into your arms, I think to myself Nothing lasts forever
@mercelotweek day 5
(a cover of) the song
the original + translation
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@mercelotweek day 3
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For @mercelotweek day 3: âwhether you like it or not, iâm not giving up on youâ + pre-season 4 AU
AO3. 3/6
---
They were always on some damned mission or quest someplace.
This time, it was that damned Labyrinth Merlin had thought heâd never have to be in again. It wasnât even because of something Arthur did, for a change. They had all gotten dragged to these lands in search of an amulet that was lost at sea, but King Uther, in his demented wisdom, demanded to be brought to him.Â
As he walked, he half-heartedly kicked a rock. And as he watched it roll away over some dandelions, he felt the urge to grab it and smash someoneâs head with it. He forced himself to breathe and count down from ten. He didnât actually want to hit anyone with a rock, at least not right nowâ that was the Labyrinth talking.Â
It was cursed, or enchanted, or something. Maybe it had always been like this, but Merlin hadnât noticed the first time heâd been here. At first, the knights had just been antsy. Twitchy. But gradually, they had started looking ready to bolt.Â
Merlin almost clashed with Elyan in front of him because of how abruptly he stopped. Lancelot, beside him at the end of the group, stood close and glanced around. Not even in missions that were meant to be life or death, he had seen Lancelot so⊠disoriented. Like he didnât know where up was and where down was. Merlinâs hand itched to hold his.
âWe should split up,â Arthur told them. He stood before two identical-looking paths that forked from theirs.
âAre you actually stupid?â Merlin heard himself say.
This was the thing about the labyrinth: it wasnât affecting Merlin the same as the rest. Because of course it wasnât. Everything irritated him, he snapped at the smallest things, and he had the ever-present urge to⊠to hurt. He hated it.
Everyone turned to look at him with wide eyes.Â
âThis is exactly what the Labyrinth wants. It wants to separate usââ
He couldnât even fucking finish speaking before Arthur bolted for one of the paths. Unbelievable.
âArthurâ waitââ he tried, but it was to no use. Leon followed after Arthur. Gwaine, Elyan and Percival went for the other path.
Lancelot tried to follow, but Merlin grabbed his wrist before he could get too far. He was cold, under the weak autumn sun.
âDonât you fucking dare,â Merlin said. He immediately regretted it when Lancelot started trembling under his touch.
Lancelot tried to shake his hand off, but Merlin clung to it. It wasnât the Labyrinthâs curse this time. It was something deeper, something he was well familiar with by that point. He just needed Lancelot close to him.
âIâm sorryâ hey, Lancelot, wait.â He put his other hand on Lancelotâs shoulder. Which failed spectacularly at calming him down.
Lancelot tried to escape, stepping back as Merlin stepped forward until his back touched a leafy wall. He had been looking directly at Merlin, eyes wide with terror. The moment his back hit the shrub, he started looking around, desperately searching for⊠something. The exit, probably.
âIâll never get out,â Lancelot panted. âIâ you should leave me here. Save yourself, Merlin.â
Lancelot sank to his knees. Merlin went down with him; the relief of hearing his name escape Lancelotâs lips made him unable to hold them up. For a moment there, he had been certain Lancelot wouldn't recognise him, lost in the mazeâs magic.
âIâm not leaving you here.â
âYou must.â Lancelot started struggling again. âI canât go on, I canât. But you must escapeââ He tried to stand back up, and Merlin couldnât think of a better way to stop him than straddling his lap.
It made them get close enough that their breathing mixed. Definitely not one of Merlinâs brightest ideas. His heart beat so hard he could feel it in his throat. At least it had made Lancelot still, too.
âWhether you like it or not, Iâm not giving up on you,â he whispered. Close as they were, he didnât need more to be heard. âI will burn down this Goddess-forsaken place, leaf by ugly leaf if I must, but Iâm not leaving you here.â
âThat wonât be necessary,â a voice came from behind Merlin.
Merlin startled. Pretty badly, not that heâd ever admit it out loud. He looked behind him, and a familiar, old face and white cloak greeted him. It took Merlin a moment to process.
âYou. You did this,â he said to Anhora. He wasnât sure if his anger was his own now.
âIndeed,â the old man smiled gently. How dare. âIt was a test.â
âBut Arthur hasnât killed any unicorns.â
âNot for him, of course. For you.â
âWhat?â A part of Merlin was expecting Anhora to say it was all a joke. A terrible joke. The other part of him was expecting him to mysteriously disappear. âWhy? We have been losing our minds for hours now. What did I do?â
Anhora smiled gently again. And then, as if he had never been there at all, he disappeared. Obviously. He hated it when they did that.
He felt muscles tense underneath him and oh, yes, he was very much still on top of Lancelot.
He looked back at him. He seemed calmer, his eyes clear. Merlin placed a hand on his cheek, because apparently his sanity still hadnât returned.
âAre you okay?â he asked.
âYes, IâŠâ he placed his hand on top of Merlinâs. Merlin forgot how to breathe. âIt is as if a fog has been lifted from my mind.â
Merlin sighed, his whole body relaxing with it. Whatever Anhora had decided to curse them with, it was over.
âAre you okay?â Lancelot asked, his hand squeezing Merlinâs.
Right then and there, with Lancelot warm and solid and there beneath him, he was more than okay. He wasnât going to tell him any of that, though. And anyway, he didnât get to tell him anything at all, because just then they heard footsteps rounding the corner of one of the paths, and Elyan appeared from beyond the shrubbery.
He just looked at them as Merlin hurried to stand up from Lancelotâs lap. And as Lancelot struggled to stand, too, between the armour and weapons and the plant wall being a terrible support.
âThereâs a time and place, guys,â Elyan said. Merlin gaped at him. âCome on, we think we found the exit. I canât wait to get out of here.â
And then he just left. Merlin and Lancelot shared a single, awkward glance (at least it was awkward for Merlin), and followed him.
Merlin had never been happier to see his friends acting their loud, bull-headed, and even arrogant selves. As they left the Labyrinth, Arthur lamented that they couldnât find the amulet his father had sent him in search of. Merlin was honestly happy to leave it lost at sea.Â
The moment they crossed the Labyrinthâs threshold, he felt a sudden weight in the pocket of his jacket. He put a hand in, and when he pulled it out, a round, gold coin the size of his palm stared right back at him.
âIs that it?â Lancelot whispered next to him.
The coin was engraved with runes he did not recognise around its face. Merlin flipped it. The figure on the other face marked it unmistakably: The amulet of the Dragon.
[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [+1]
#Day 3: whether you like it or not i'm not giving up on you + pre-season 4 AUđ#đ#mercelotweek2025#merlance#mercelot
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a habit to kick; the age-old curse (788 words) by bumblebearr Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Merlin (TV) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Lancelot/Merlin (Merlin), Gwen/Lancelot (Merlin), Gwen/Morgana (Merlin), (implied)
Summary: Day 5: âwhat about me?â + the darkest hour AU Gwen is utterly alone. She knows, now, that everyone who ever loved her chose someone, or something, over her. Morgana? Vengeance. Arthur? Camelot. And Merlin and Lancelot? Each other.
work under the cut!
@mercelotweek
The second the bells ring out, reverberating through what must be the entire kingdom, Gwen is running out of the palace, her feet pitter-pattering on the cobblestones like harsh rain or hail on a hot, dry day. The king has arrived, they cry. Arthur, sings her heart. Andâif God is so willingâLancelot.
Exceptâ
There is no crown of wheat offset by shining blue eyes to greet her. She skids to a stop, like her heart, nearly tripping over herself. No.
She searches desperately through the crowd surrounding the knights, cataloguing them like they are items in her father's smithy. Elyan is there, his eyes solemn, searching forâher. Their eyes meet, and his shoulders slump: relief, or sorrow? Gwaine is there too, Percival towering over behind him, his eyes devoid of their usual levity. Her hands raise to her mouth. The ground shifts beneath her feet, her breathing coming quick and shallow. At the front is Lancelot (thank God, her mind whispers, unbidden, because despite all attempts, she has never quite been able to forget how he looked at her when he first arrived in Camelot), holding Merlin, clinging to him like guilt and fear and misery clung to her when her father died and clings to her now.
She can make out Elyan, a blur of deep brown hickory-wood and silver and red, shoving through his brothers-in-arms to get to her, his arms thrust in front of him to catch her. His arms make their way around her midsection, and she clings to him, catching a glimpse of Merlin and Lancelot again.
Elyan rubs his gloved hands in circles over her back and murmurs what must be words of comfort at her, as if she is some kind of livestock, but Gwen can only focus on the way Lancelot holds Merlin tightly; the intimacy in their gazes as she watches their faces, Lancelot pulling Merlin's up to hold his jaw gently and softly stroke over his cheek
(and she swears she can feel the soft lambskin of Arthur's glove tracing over her cheekbone and the other thumbing the base of her neck, gentle, soft, loving)
and put a thumb to the base of his neck. Gwen has seen this before; Gwen has been here before.
This is the moment: she can tell, now, that everyone who has ever loved her chose someone, something, over her. Morgana? Vengeance. Arthur? Camelot.
Merlin and Lancelot? Each other.
She watches them kiss from underneath Elyan's arm, her mouth frozen in an O. Her eyes are wide open. It is a short kiss, a chaste kiss, but God knowsâGwen knowsâwhat kind of intimacy a chaste kiss can hold; the softness of it, the slow dance of it: nothing like a kiss for taking, nothing so desperate, nothing so consuming.
A chaste kiss is love; she knows this from Arthur, who loved her more than anything except for his kingdom.
What about me? she wants to scream, taking in deep, gasping breaths. She had thoughtâshe had thought that Lancelot had felt something of the same for her; that at least if Arthur were gone, she could have someone who would understand the kind of longing she would always feel.
She'd seen, then, the kind of horridness of the thought: to settle, for someone like Lancelot? Honourable and noble and perfect, with no flaws; loyal to a fault. He deserved better.
And he'd found better, she thinks to herself, hysterical. This was better, wasn't it? Lancelot and Merlin, the two best people she knew, and they were in love.
This is the moment: she can tell, now, that she will never live out the dream of a loud home; she will never live out the dream of wining and dining with friends and whomever she loved. Perhaps they'll commission her for something for their wedding. Hand-fasting?
She won't braid flowers into Morgana's hair as she and Arthur argue over something stupid, just to hear the sounds of their voices, swelling in dissonant harmony. She won't kiss Merlin when he invites her out for herb-gathering and they get distracted or he's running late to serve Arthur and she distracts him with a mission to steal pies. She won't kiss Arthur before he leaves for a battle, a hunt, a war, a patrol; he won't promise her that he will come back to her. Because he hasn't. He has left her behind like all sense has.
There will be no looking at his endearing crooked tooth, revealing itself from the chapped pink lips in its imperfect joy. He has gone from her and the world.
The ring on her finger sits heavy as she realises they never even got married.
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