merlins-hurt-comfort - Tumblr blog

[merlins-hurt-comfort]

If You’re Gonna Be The Death Of Me, That’s How I Wanna Go

Summary: Remy really goes “head empty, only Emile” in this one. He is a cocky, little flirting shit for everyone except Emile, also Emile is non-binary because I say so. I love the “it’s my fanfiction and I get to say who’s queer/dying” attitude, can you tell? Fandom: TS Sanders Sides Warnings: Swearing and food is mentioned in a pick-up line but I think that’s it, check out the tags down below Pairing: Remile Characters: Remy Sanders, Emile Picani and Logan is mentioned once as Remy’s brother Wordcount: 1790 Uploading date: 5th of june 2020

A/N: This is for @shut-up-emrys-deactivated202005 <3 I hope you like it and I hope you're having a fantastic birthday. I am so extremely glad that you're my friend. I love you. As you can see, this piece is a bit shorter than usual and I am blaming it on the fact that it’s all fluff, no angst but hey, I have three wips right now :D

One step in front of another, that's how you walk, right? There was no big deal about what Remy was going to do. He was only going to ask out his dearest friend Emile. Emphasis on the only because it was nothing big, absolutely not at all. He would do it and he would ace it and everything would be chill and he definitely had everything under control.

He walked down the hallway of his school, on his way to Emile's locker, since that's where they would most likely be.

The students seeing Remy passing by saw someone filled with confidence. Head up high, straight posture, self-assured steps and a pair of sunglasses resting on his head, not on his nose, simply because people considered it rude to wear shaded glasses in buildings.

What they didn't see were his increasingly bad shaking hands or how he started to fidget with the hem of his leather jacket. They didn't hear his heart beating way too loudly, providing him with enough adrenaline for what his brain apparently thought was a fight, flight or freeze situation, and they didn't hear his loud racing thoughts either.

They would have noticed all those signs of Remy being a disaster gay though, if they just stopped him and casually had a conversation or simply looked a little bit closer.

Remy wasn't nervous, no. He never was. He wasn't nervous before being introduced to someone new, he wasn't nervous before class presentations or even exams because he studied really hard for them and he certainly wasn't nervous now either, no.

He was just, to quote a show he had recently binge in a sleepless night: "Uncertain of how things would go and therefore deeply terrified".

There was nothing new about this. He had flirted with a lot of people on this school or in dancing clubs he sometimes liked to go, only rarely though. The point of this is- you name them and he could probably tell you the pick-up line he had used. But then again, that had all been nothing more than play pretend, all for fun and everyone knew that, no feelings were harmed.

But this, today? That was kind of actually something new after all. He was about to ask out his best friend- with all seriousness and no play pretend! He wanted to ask them on a date and go on those dates and be a cheesy couple and not only flirt for fun but flirt to tease and flirt to let everyone know they were each other's. But he had to admit, it would also be fun to flirt simply to make them blush, yea. Remy decided he'd like that.

He walked a little faster before his brain could chose the flight over fight or freeze and he'd chicken out again, like he did the week before. That did sound good, though, he would just turn around in his path and maybe he could try it again another time when he was less... deeply terrified and-

"Remy!" Too late. Emile was putting some stuff in their locker and they hadn't actually seen Remy but noticed their best friend's presence anyways.

"What are-" They stretched to get a book from the top compartment of their with cartoon stickers decorated locker, "Could you help me out?" Remy handed the smaller friend what they couldn't reach.

"Thanks." Emile closed their locker and faced Remy. "So. What are you doing here? I do love your company but aren't all your classes today at the other side of the building? Speaking of your classes, did you get your test back? You told me you had to study a lot and after what you told me about it I am sure you did great and-."

"Yea, I- uhhh." If Remy hadn't interrupted Emile's flow, they would have continued for the rest of the break. Not that Remy was complaining, he loved to hear them talk, he could listen to their voice forever. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to it.

"I wanted to ask you something." Remy scratched their neck and stared at Emile's locker. To look his friend in their pretty, chocolate brown eyes would only throw him off his game, even though it looked like he was already losing. Why was this so much harder than usually?

"Remy, are you alright? Did you get enough sleep last night?" Emile's hand waved in his unfocused vision.

The taller student blinked a few times to see Emile stepping a little closer, their head tilted to the side and an eyebrow slightly raised in equal worry and curiosity.

To look at their friend was a mistake, his heart could not stop pounding, he just wanted to hold them and hug their hidden worries away and everything sad they didn't deserve that would consume them in the middle of night when they texted Remy out of seemingly nowhere. Of course, Remy was always awake to text them back. But wouldn't it be better to be there for them in person?

Emile was still looking at him like Remy was a ghost or another supernatural being. He got lost in his thoughts again, didn't he? Time to say something! He tried to make his mouth work.

"Sure, sure. Uhhh, I'm good, I'm chill." He crossed his arms and actually intended to lean back real smooth and casually, but he had miscalculated the space between himself and the lockers and almost slipped, almost. But hey, his sunglasses fell down on his nose so this not impressive, far from flirting (yet) situation brought something good, at least now Emile couldn't see where Remy was looking. He smirked, to play it off.

"Something is up with you, you're acting strange." Emile, too, crossed their arms and for a quick second Remy remembered that he once read online that if you cross your arms and the other person trusts you, they will copy it, consciously or not. His heart warmed even more, it was all fuzzy and he sighed. He was sure this blood pumping organ was going to melt, he already felt warm in the leather jacket and Emile being this adorable without even trying did not help at all, believe it or not. How was he supposed to flirt with them, he was a mess. "Come on," he thought "Make it quick like ripping off a bandaid."

Remy took a deep, shaking breath. Now or never. The longer he waited the harder it would get. "I wanted to ask you if you want to do something with me this evening.... Or not today if that's not good with you, tomorrow or the weekend would also be fine, but only like... if you want to and also have the time and-."

"We do a lot of things together why is asking that big of an act for you?"

Well, then he'd have to do it blunter. Oh, this was so stupid but the only pick-up line his mind could give him at the moment. "You like raisins, don't you? How do you feel about-"

Emile's eyes lit up as they realised what their best friend was trying to do and they completed his pick-up line way more seductive than Remy could have ever dreamed of doing it himself. They smirked and lowered their voice. "-a date?"

Remy didn't even have to see that smile to know it was there. He could see it in Emile's eyes. His friend always showed their emotions way more through their eyes than anything else and those eyes looked mischievous as hell. But he made the mistake to look at the smile anyways, he was weak after all. Weak for Emile. "Are you asking me out?"

Fuck, the cat's out of the bag. "Well," Remy cleared his throat. "I am trying to but you're just too... uhhh."

"I am too what? Throwing you off your rhythm, huh?" Emile let out a short laugh and Remy was sure that this was straight up bullying. What else could it be? He felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Was he blushing, oh fuck, he was blushing, wasn't he? Full on blushing. But hey, in his defence, he could not help himself, not even a little bit, when Emile was being so- not to say attractive but that's exactly what they were. "Yea, that's precisely what you're doing."

"What?" Even though Emile hadn't seem to expect that answer, it didn't throw them off their game at all, which was quite frankly just rude. How could they be so calm, so collected, while Remy was a blushing, melting disaster? Emile then had the audacity to correct their pastel blue tie. Emile really liked wearing ties and as one knows, ties and suits and dresses and fancy clothing in general make one look ten times better than usual. Did they even know what that quick movement did to Remy? Maybe they did not- but then again- yea, no. Remy was sure Emile did that on purpose and was completely aware of how handsome they were and how many butterflies they just put in his stomach. Butterflies in the stomach, feeling nervous in all the right ways. Or as his brother would say "A phrase that is commonly used to indicate the feeling of clenched anticipation for something desired one feels deep in one's gut". Yea, Logan was a nerd.

Remy found his voice again, it was nowhere nearly as sassy, confident and loud as usually. "So, will you go on a date with me?"

"If that means I get to make you blush more, always." So much to the thought of Remy making Emile flustered, seemed like it backfired. They put their backpack over one shoulder. "Fantastic, see you this evening. I'll text you."

They put Remy's hands in theirs and softly squished them before turning around and leaving Remy right where he had stood all the time. His pulse seemed to get slower again, he had done it. Well, he shot his shot and it halfway worked before Emile took over. Now they would have dates together and they could do everything Remy not only dreamed of at night but intentionally thought of when he daydreamed and-

Oh no. Oh fuck, no. Now he would never escape being flustered and blushing, wasn't he? He let out a long sigh, it felt good to get actual air in his lungs since he hadn't properly breathed for the whole break.

He had a feeling the butterflies would stay. "If Emile's gonna be the death of me," he thought as he made his way to his next class, his hands still slightly shaking. "Then that's how I wanna go."

[merlins-hurt-comfort]

And In The End I’d Do It All Again

Summary: the one where Merlin arrives in time and pulls a Patroclus. to everyone who also read The Song Of Achilles or is familiar with the legend, don’t deny it y’all already know what will happen. some angsty quotes from the show but hey- Merlin gets that hug he’s always wanted!! Fandom: BBC Merlin Warnings: murder, death, blood, violence Pairing: platonic Merlin/Arthur but i guess it could be read as a romantic ship if you squint hard enough Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Mordred, Gwen Wordcount: 2746

A/N: I just really wanted to write that. consider it an early birthday present, @totallynotamerlinfanpage!! have fun with it @shut-up-emrys <3 also i did proofread and edit it but idk it doesn’t really feel like i did lmao anyways enjoy!!

Merlin's feet carried him faster than he had ever been able to run before. He had to be in time, he had to prevent what Kilgarrah said was to be the inevitable. He had to save Arthur and needless to say, he'd give whatever it would take.

He couldn't even think about stopping and taking a short break. He knew if he stopped now his legs would completely give up, the muscles stinging with pain. And so he ran through the dark woods. Without the magic he just regained earlier this night he wouldn't even be able to see anything right under his feet.

Merlin was close, he saw the tents of all the knights and in the middle, the slightly bigger tent for his Sire and the Queen Guinevere. It was all dark except for two torches. Each of the two knights that were standing in front of the royalty's tent held one in their hands. It seemed like everyone was still asleep, resting, but with no doubt they would get prepared to fight even before the sun would rise again, hopefully not for the last time for his king.

Finally Merlin stopped and hid behind the first tent he passed by, out of the guard's visions, simply to not having to walk another step for now. He quietly tried to manage his breathing, deep in and deep out, his upper body bent forward, his shaking hands leaning on his knees to prevent those from giving in. It felt as if his lungs were on fire and everything beneath it stung.

But all of that wasn't as bad as the worry about his dear friend climbing up his throat, getting bigger with every passing heartbeat, making him feel as if he was sick. Merlin wanted nothing more than to just lie down and sleep, but unfortunately that was completely out of the question. His king needed his saving, even if Arthur neither knew about it or would ever admit it if he knew in the first place.

After a few more minutes he slowly made his way to Arthur's tent, keeping his head up and posture straight not showing the guards how exhausted he secretly was. They let him in without questioning where he had been up until now. After almost a decade everyone just knew not to question Merlin, the king's servant and friend.

To say he was relieved when he entered the tent and saw both Gwen and Arthur peacefully sleeping arm in arm would be a huge understatement. Still, he had to find a solution. Merlin started pacing, careful to not make a sound as several inner monologues were racing through his mind, cutting off each other and leaving no room for even one usable argument he could convince Arthur with. There was no way in heaven, hell and purgatory combined that would make the King step back and not fight for his knights, his kingdom and the people he loved.

Merlin's pacing stopped as abruptly as his train of thoughts when an idea popped into his head. Of course, why didn't he think of it earlier? Arthur would never knowingly let Merlin take his place, but what if no one found out?

A few months ago Merlin and Gwaine used a magic spell to switch bodies for a day. Both of them were utterly convinced that the other's daily tasks were easier to handle than their own. It went down without any troubles and the only thing anyone seemed to notice was that Merlin was acting a little sluttier than usually, flirting shamelessly with Arthur while Gwaine didn't seem to be as fit as he would have been on any other day. In the early evening the spell wore off again and both of them had their bodies back, just like that.

Merlin still remembered the funny little spell, he kept it in the back of his mind for a situation where he might have to use it again. Careful not to wake up anyone he stepped closer to Arthur, still fast asleep on the bed and only a few heartbeats later he saw himself laying next to Gwen. He bowed down to look at his body. Was that what he looked like? He really needed a haircut. Merlin slightly pulled at his own new hair, seeing a blond stray and then quickly spoke another spell to ensure Arthur would continue to sleep for a while.

The young sorcerer walked over to Arthur's- now temporarily his- armour and began putting it on himself. Before he had a chance to put on the helmet he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned around to face Arthur's- his- wife.

Gwen gave him a concerning look. "You're up early, Arthur, even for this circumstance. Did you get any rest?"

Merlin cleared his throat and smiled, trying not to give anything away. "Believe me, Gwen, I did get the rest I need." He looked over to the bed where who she believed to be Merlin, slept just as undisturbed as he did when Merlin entered the tent. "So, uhh, you may have noticed, Merlin arrived here when I woke up. He's terribly exhausted, just let him sleep, alright?"

The Queen's look now showed less concern. Of course she still was worried about her husband's life but she didn't know about the little trick Merlin pulled. Instead, she slightly tilted her head and smiled lovingly at him. His stomach dropped. He needed to ensure that this smile wouldn't fade away. Arthur deserved to see it for the rest of his long life. "You know, it wouldn't hurt to tell Merlin that you do care about him every once in a while."

"I think he knows, Gwen." He softly kissed her left cheek before he grabbed the helmet and sword. He quietly repeated himself as he left the tent. "I think he knows."

Not much later everyone was prepared. Merlin, in Arthur's armour, stood infront of all the knights ready to lead. The dawning sunlight shone through the valley and at the other side of it they could see the enemy's army, Mordred leading them like the night to Merlin's day. He looked at his right side where Sir Leon gave him a small nod. Merlin took a deep breath and as he held up his sword and yelled, he heard Arthur's voice loud and clear.

"For the love of Camelot!"

He didn't turn around but he heard the knights echoing what who they thought was their king did. "For the love of Camelot!"

And that's when all hell broke lose. If one had asked Merlin what happened, he couldn't have told. It was all too loud, too violent, too much and too big. Knights died on both sides, I mean of course they did, this was a war we're talking about. And Merlin had thought it all through, this plan was perfect. Except that he was not built for war; he was a weapon that's for sure but he was not made for this.

Swords clashed against swords, rocks and shields. Knights yelled and called for help and he couldn't help everyone while fighting whoever attacked him without actually using magic. The magic inside of him was desperate to be used but he couldn't. He was now, in this moment, Arthur. Merlin was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that after what seemed to be forever, only a few knights were left standing on their feet. And suddenly the one destined to take his king's life appeared in front of him with an unsettlingly big, dark smile on his face. The druid came closer.

"Mordred, you know you don't have t-" He swallowed on the words left unsaid as a sharp pain just under his left rips took out all the air of his lungs. Just after it numbed and he thought it couldn't get any worse Mordred pulled the sword out of his body and Merlin gasped when the same pain ripped him apart inside.

He felt like his autopilot kicked in. He knew he heard Mordred's sword dropping and he knew that the sword was magic, forged in dragon's fire. He could feel a piece of said sword inside his body, he could feel it's magic vibrating. And he knew he then raised his sword, he saw Mordred's smile fading as he pulled his sword out of Mordred's stomach and all Merlin could think about was that the druid boy did not deserve to die, but it was too late.

He definitely saw him collapsing on the ground and Merlin heard his own sword dropping on the ground before he stumbled backwards until his body, burning in agony, hit the stone wall. He slid down with his hands pressed against the stab wound trying to stop the bleeding. He wasn't yet ready to die, he had to know that Arthur was alright. That was when a ice cold wave rolled over his body and his vision got dark.

When he woke up again, halfway leaned against a tree and saw Arthur lighting a fire, all that had happened seemed like a dream to him. Wait, he saw Arthur lighting the fire? The spell must have worn off.

Merlin looked up in the sky, seeing the white big clouds passing. He didn't need to see his body when he definitely felt it- worn out and in pain. His legs still stung, his back hurt, his head felt dizzy and his mouth was dry and of course there was his left side. Seemed like it wasn't a dream after all.

Eventually he looked down to see his old clothes, the blue shirt having hole and a huge red blood stain. He slowly raised his left hand and lifted his shirt to see his bandaged torso, the bandage soaked in blood. Merlin instinctively put his other hand right where he felt the piece of magic metal in his body. Bad decision, bad decision, instant regret. The pain grew so much worse.

He closed his eyes and groaned which caught Arthur's attention. He was by his side in a second, removing his hand from the bandaged wound and pulling down his shirt carefully.

Merlin didn't dare to open his eyes. "What in the everliving hell were you thinking, Merlin?" Apparently it was a completely rhetorical question because he didn't wait for an answer, he just continued rambling as he turned back to the fire. Merlin heard Arthur angrily poking the fire a little with a stick before he returned to his side. "Open your mouth, you need to drink."

Merlin did as asked and only a moment later cold, refreshing water ran down his throat. He didn't know water could taste so good since Arthur had brought the unicorn curse upon Camelot.

Arthur removed the flask, then there was the sound of ripping fabric. "You can't just swap our bodies and take my place."

There was a quiet splashing. "I am the king, Merlin, I had to fight in this."

Arthur used his wet improvised towel to cool his servant's face, but way too aggressive. "You can be glad no one knows you were using magic. What are we supposed to do now?"

Merlin opened his eyes and sighed. As he grabbed Arthur's wrist to stop him from eventually bruising him he meet his Sire's face ridden with worries and fears. "Arthur." The injured boy tried to look at the once and future king as loving as it was possible with the amount of pain he was in. "I knew exactly what I was doing. I had to save your life. I don't regret it. And in the end I’d do it all again."

Now it was Arthur's turn to let out a deep breath before Merlin let go of his wrist and he continued cooling his face, but softer this time. "I can't let you die, Merlin, not on my watch."

Merlin couldn't help but smile. "Whatever will happen, I am alright with it knowing you survived this and will become the king you're destined to be." He cleared his throat and chuckled. "Plus, if I don't die I will probably be executed for my magic anyway."

"Yeaaa, that's still my decision." Arthur, now done with cooling Merlin's face, put the towel down and leaned against a tree on the other side of the fire. Arthur didn't sit down, Merlin knew he preferred to stand to be able to watch over him without the fire blocking his view.

The next moment Arthur looked over at his servant, he had his hands pressed on the wound again. Merlin couldn't help it, it just felt better to have the wound protected by himself even though he knew it didn't help a single bit. The blond rolled his eyes, knowing there was no point in removing his hands again.

He crossed his arms and put on his thinking face. "To be honest, I am planning to legalise magic when we come back home. And I mean you only used magic this one time today, right?"

"Actually." Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at him curiously. "I was born with magic and ever since I came to Camelot I have been using it to save your arse. A lot, rea-"

"Shut up, Merlin." Arthur straightened his posture and raised his right hand to cut off his friend. "So you mean to tell me that all the times when I have no memory of fighting something." He stopped and seemed to try and think through the last decade. "All the times when I don't have memories, it was actually you who fought those creatures and villains and, and then you gave the credit to me?"

Merlin pressed his hands tighter onto the wound. He couldn't worsen the pain endlessly, right? At some point he would go numb, wouldn't he? "That's precisely what happened." He had to pause. It was insane how pain made one run out of breath so quickly. "I didn't need the credit. That's not why I've done it."

Arthur's face lit up, struck with another realisation. "And all the times Gaius said you were in the tavern?"

Merlin tried sitting up a little higher, he let out a weak laugh, well- more of a cough than a laugh. "Man," he coughed once more. "Until last week I didn't even know where the tavern was."

"You know, Merlin, all jokes aside." The way Arthur sounded hurt Merlin's heart. So serious, so concerned, so sincere. "I don't care about your magic. I care about you. And not because you're my servant. Because you're my friend and I couldn't bear to lose you."

Neither of them said anything, Merlin let his eyes wander through his field of vision. From the trees surrounding them up to the white clouds in the sky above them back to the fireplace Arthur lighted on the ground between Merlin and himself. He stared at the fire. He was getting so tired. He would just rest his eyes and-

"Merlin? Merlin!" Arthur's hand slapping his cheek didn't hurt as much as the panic in his voice. "Hey, wake up! Merlin!" Arthur held him in his lap, looking incredibly relieved as Merlin slowly opened his eyes and tried to blink the tiredness away, without any success. Exhaustion sat deep in every inch of his body. He could feel the magical piece draining him, it took everything he had to cup Arthur's face with one of his hands and brush away some tears.

Merlin tilted his head and gave a weak smirked. "I thought no man was worth your tears?" Arthur chuckled lightly but the tears kept coming. Oh, that smile. Merlin knew he'd never see it again.

"Merlin." Arthur started trembling, causing the smile on both their faces to fade.

"You once asked me-" His voice broke, he started the sentence again, it was barely a whisper. "You once asked me what's the life of a servant compared to that of a prince?"

Merlin collapsed in Arthur's arms, to weak to hold up his hand anymore or keep his eyes open. In his last moment he felt Arthur shaking, holding him close and warm as he quietly said what was to be the last sentence he ever heard-

"Oh, Merlin. You're worth everything and more." And that sentence filled him with more love than he could have ever wished for.

[merlins-hurt-comfort]

I’ll be here until you’re okay

Fandom: TS Sanders Sides Warnings: parental emotional abuse, talking about violence (only talking, though), food mention, Roman swears once, Remy’s mother is kind of transphobic and sugarcoats anxiety. Pairing: Remy/Emile Characters: Remy Sanders, Emile Picani, Patton Sanders, Logan Sanders and Roman Sanders Wordcount: 3511

A/N: so first of all, this is for @shut-up-emrys​, i love you lots. the thing with this fanfiction is that it’s kinda personal, i basically put my mother in this story and made Remy go through some of the things i had/have to go through and have them comforted in the end. because that is what hurt and comfort fanfictions are for, isn’t it. whatever. i do feel better after writing this, though.

The early morning sun shone through a little window in Remy's room, lightly waking them on this mild Tuesday morning.

After a few times of turning around, trying to get ahold of the sweet warm sleep, Remy stretched their body and slowly sat up, leaning against their bed's headboard.

They rubbed their eyes and blinked a few times to get their eyes used to the bright rays of sun, lighting up their room- or more accurate- their mess of it.

Remy breathed in deeply but the heavy weight on their shoulders didn't ease. They felt their throat hurting, warm anger rising as they remembered last night's events.

No surprise their mother was involved. Remy remembered trying to open up to her, telling her about yesterday's therapy session. Not to get them wrong, they loved their mother. And their mother loved Remy. At least that's what they were sure of. But sometimes Remy couldn't think of her anything other than hurtful, then again they immediately felt guilty about thinking that way. Their mother was a good mother. She was. Even though Remy felt like her hatred towards certain groups of people outweighed her love for her child.

Remy didn't want to get up. Not this day. A long work day was ahead of them and their motivation non-existing. But since not coming to work due to emotional issues was "just being lazy" and "not going to happen", according to their mother, they slowly got out of the warm bed to get changed while thoughts about other events, similar to last night came crushing down. Like that one time, years ago, when they took all the courage they got. They wrote their mother a letter, explaining being non-binary in all it's details.

Remy started shaking, just as they had been shaking back then, as if they were reliving the whole scenario instead of simply replaying it in their thoughts. They didn't get support. They didn't get thrown out either but that could not be where the bar for acceptance was. Instead, after getting interrupted, their mother tried to talk Remy out of it, brushed it off as a phase and neither of them brought up the whole conversation ever again. That day Remy swore to never come out to her ever again.

But their mother was a good mother, she let them visit a therapist to manage their anxiety issues. After six months of all of their professors talking to her, she finally agreed. She didn't like her child going to therapy. It would not look good on college or work applications, she said. They would never get an "actual full-time job", she said. It would ruin her good reputation, she said. Almost as if that was more important than Remy learning to deal with their anxiety. Almost. She loved them, Remy knew it. They just didn't feel it. But she was a good mother, right? She was. She had to be.

Remy shook their head, trying to get rid of all the memories as they dropped the clothes they slept in on the floor. After last night's argument, Remy didn't manage to do anything else other than walk into their room, slam the door shut and lie down on the bed hoping to fall sleep before the growing heartache would tear them apart.

They picked a blue jeans and a white shirt from The Chair™, put them on and turned around to look in a mirror hanging on the wall to fix their sleep hair. One look in the mirror made them stumble back in shock. All those thoughts, racing and stumbling through their mind, made them forget that this day was their eighteenth birthday.

Usually, they didn't care about their birthdays. What's so great about them? Remy was glad their friends respected their feelings and didn't bring it up. And every other birthday would have been just another ordinary day. But not the eighteenth. On one's eighteenth birthday they would get a black mark somewhere on their body where their soulmate would touch them first. Or next- if they already knew each other.

After a few seconds, Remy stepped closer to the mirror, carefully touching their left cheek with their fingertips. There was a black handprint on their face covering half their chin and lips and the cheek they were so delicately touching right that second. In awe and confusion Remy traced the print of the thumb to below the left eye and the other four fingers just below their left ear. All those thoughts about their mother disappeared, that stain was the only important thing in this moment, until-

Remy was outraged. So their soulmate would slap them? Was that what was going to happen? They scoffed, of course other people got friendly touches and they were left with this.

"Seems like, it's just what I deserve," they mumbled to themselves. For a short moment they considered covering the mark with make up but they decided not to do such thing. If people knew, people knew. And they would know- one way or another.

They put on their black leather jacket and grabbed their phone to leave the house, not bothering to say good morning or goodbye to their mother. She didn't bother either.

On their way to work Remy put in their headphones and let the music take over, trying to ignore the strangers looking at their face, now decorated with a black handprint.

A few miles away Emile stared at his right hand. Today was his eighteenth birthday as well and he couldn't help but overthink it. When he woke up this morning, his right palm was all black.

Emile's thoughts have been creating dozens of possible scenarios already. It could be a handshake, or a high-five. It could be a mark from holding someone's hand. Nonetheless, he worried a little bit. What if he would slap his soulmate? Could happen, right? Less likely than all those other possibilities but with his luck, that's what it was going to be.

He just took a shower and got dressed, a black jeans, a light blue sweater and his brown coat. He then grabbed his phone and backpack and left for uni, hiding his hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Halfway there, Emile stopped at the local Starbucks and entered the café. It was a busy morning but to see his best friend Remy behind the counter brightened his mood. Somehow, Remy, as the most sarcastic and pessimistic, also unquestionably short-tempered person, always managed to cheer him up. As a psychology major, college took a lot of Emile's time and Remy covered many of their coworkers shifts, but they still managed to spend time together. Remy was working on one of the coffee machines with their back to Emile but their coworkers already noticed him.

From the other end of the long queue Emile watched Patton say a few words to Logan, then take a paper cup from the counter and make his way through the café to the psychology major.

Patton was older than Remy and Emile and already got his mark months ago. Two fine black lines on his forehead, looking like someone would touch him while brushing some hair out of his face. Logan didn't have his mark yet.

"Good morning, Emile. Remy already prepared your daily order!" Patton pulled them in for half a hug and light pats on his back before handing Emile the cup.

"Patton, hey! Thank you for bringing me my hot cocoa." Patton smiled so brightly, it was literally contagious, then pushed up the glasses on his freckled nose.

"Always my pleasure. We wish you a very happy birthday! Let's see your mark!" Emile took his right hand out of the pocket of his jacket and opened it, showing Patton the black palm.

The café employee was fascinated. "That is so cool!!" His eyes widened. "I bet it's a high-five! Or you shake their hand." Emile chuckled lightly, stepping out of the way for some customers exiting the Starbucks. "I hope you're right about that."

"You should see Remy's mark. But I feel like it's not my place to tell you about it." Patton's voice got softer. "They wish you a very happy birthday, they said they will text you after work." Emile raised an eyebrow in confusion. Where could Remy's mark possibly be? He was tempted to just walk over to the counter but even the fact that they're his best friend didn't change that right there and then would not be a good place or time to talk about soulmate marks.

Patton interrupted him spacing out. "Now off you go or you'll be late for your first class." He stopped while making his way back to the counter, turned around and made finger guns, pointing to the hot beverage in Emile's hands. "The cocoa is on us, by the way. As a birthday present."

Emile left the café, thinking about soulmates.

Remy's shift took forever. Even though they had a lot of work, time still refused to pass. They knew every customer at some point stared at the fresh black soulmate mark. And no one said it out loud but Remy knew they all shared the same thought. Their soulmate would hit them in the face. They tried their best to get on with work as if it was any other given day and forget about the handprint adorning their face but with every single new customer looking at them, they got reminded of what would inevitably happen.

After a long day of serving people all different kinds of drinks and cleaning more tables than they could count, they finally registered the cash and Patton locked the store. Logan's shift had already ended earlier that day.

The freckled boy put the keys in one of his pockets, then encouragingly looked Remy in their eyes. "Don't worry about the mark too much, Remy. It does not look like a slapping hand to me." Patton gave them a soft smile. "It's your soulmate, it will be alright."

Remy sighed and buried their hands deep in the pockets of their leather jacket. "I hope you're right. I don't think so, but I hope."

"Kiddo, you need to tell me as soon as you meet them!" Their customers couldn't exactly tell but Patton, Logan and Remy weren't only coworkers, they also were good friends, knowing each other almost as long as Remy and Emile knew each other.

"Of course I will. But only if you'll tell me about yours, and don't kiddo me, you're only a few months older!"

Remy put in their headphones after the two Starbucks workers said goodbye and went their separate ways.

At home Remy carefully walked into the kitchen, stopping close to the door. They watched their mother cutting some carrots for dinner before quietly speaking.

"Mom? I wanted to talk-" Their voice failed them.

Their mother put the knife down and sighed. "Speak, Remy. I don't have all evening." After eighteen years with their mother, she still managed to take away all of their courage the moment they tried to talk about something that was important to them.

"I-" Remy started, but it felt like all the sentences they formed on their way here were gone as if they didn't know any words, as if their head was empty, making room for anxiety to slowly fill their body limb after limb. Remy's heart raced, their body was so cold they felt it in their bones. They already regretted trying to get their mother to make up for last night.

She turned around, impatient of their child's silence, but of course noticed the mark before anything else. She raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like someone's gonna get slapped."

Remy started fidgeting with their fingers, took all the energy their racing heart provided them with to say it as quickly as possible. "I wanted to talk to you about last night." This was supposed to be about last night, not about the mark.

Their mother sighed again, crossing her arms. "Remy, there is nothing to talk about. I get it, your therapist diagnosed you with an anxiety disorder." She took a deep breath, like what she just said had cost her all of her energy. "Listen, we all get nervous sometimes and I could help you just as well, I don't see why you have to see a therapist for that."

Remy tried their hardest to not show their hurt as it climbed up their throat.

"But, mom-"

Their mother cut them off. "Well, thank you for the conversation, I was not done talking. I taught you better than speaking out of turn." She massaged her temple and closed her eyes, letting out an exasperated sight. "You don't understand my situation. What will people think? I need to get used to this."

She turned around, picked up the knife and continued cutting the carrots. A few seconds passed. By now Remy's chest felt like a rattling nest full of angry wasps, their breathing short and uncontrolled. "Don't tell me you're crying."

Remy was close to crying. But they knew their mother- crying was for weak people and they were not weak. They couldn't be weak. They tried to swallow the hurt, pushing it all down to wrap the angry wasp nest.

"I am-", they cleared their throat, taking a deep, long breath. In a voice, as steady as possible, they continued. "I am not crying."

"Good. Adults don't cry." Their mother put the cut carrots in the pot on the oven. "Do you want to help me cook dinner?" she asked, in a tone implying that this whole conversation didn't happen. Remy knew she simply couldn't stand the atmosphere she created. They wanted to cry.

"Actually, I am going to meet Emile."

Remy's mother aggressively grabbed the tomatoes. "I am doing everything for you, Remy." She almost threw them in the sink. "And I ask for help one time, just once, but no." She washed them quickly and started cutting. "I have to do everything myself. You're making me break down, do you hear me? I'm going to break down. You don't ever help me."

"Gee," Remy wondered while closing the kitchen door on their way out and leaving the house. They wiped their teary eyes, then pulled out the phone to text their best friend. "I wonder why."

This didn't go the way they planned. But then again, with their mother, things would never go according to plan.

Emile sat on his favourite table in the local library when he got a text notification. He tapped twice on his dark display to wake it up and read the message.

"Hey, can we meet?" Remy. Emile got excited. So their shift was finally over and they got to spend some time with each other.

He leaned back in his chair and typed. "I am in the library. Do you want to come here?"

It only took seconds for Remy to answer. "On my way."

Emile often came to the city's local library, sometimes to read but most of the time to study for an exam. Just like this day. He shifted in his chair to get comfortable and continued reading and making some notes.

After another ten minutes, he heard the big front door opening and quietly closing. A distant. "Hello, Remy!!"

Emile looked up from his book. Remy was here and that made him so incredibly happy, even though it was kind of late already and he was exhausted from hours of studying after a complete day at uni. He heard a weak "Hey." in response to Roman's greeting.

Emile's heart dropped. That did not sound good. The bad feeling in Emile's gut got confirmed when Remy appeared in his vision.

Head down, hands in the pockets of their jacket, walking with slow, tired steps. As if something had drained them for everything they had- or someone. Emile knew about their mother, she was something Remy had been dealing with their whole life, much longer than Emile knew them.

He stood up and walked around the table to Remy, softly pulling them in for a hug. Remy slowly put their arms around Emile as well and buried their face in the taller boy's neck, holding him close. Emile carefully put one hand on the back of Remy's head as he slowly rubbed their back with his other hand. Neither of them moved.

Remy was safe now. They could cry now. Feeling Emile's beating heart so close to theirs, his warm-sunshine presence all around them, feeling his hands holding them, his steady and calm breathing, Remy finally felt like they could give in to the hurt stinging in their chest, poking the angry wasp nest everytime they breathed in.

The words just spilled over. "Emile, you need to know that I love her. I do." They paused, getting quieter with each word they said. "She just makes it so hard for me. And- and I think she loves me. I mean, she has to, she just has to-" Their voice cracked as tears filled their closed eyes. Remy was glad their face was hidden, that no one could see them this vunerable, even though Emile kept telling them, crying was healthy and human. "I just can't- I just can't feel it."

Emile closed his eyes, fighting back his tears. This was Remy's moment and he knew they didn't get many of those.

"Remy, it's alright. You're here with me now, only with me." Emile's reassurance was nothing more than a quiet, soft whisper, and that was all Remy needed.

"I'll be here until you're okay." As Emile felt their shoulders trembling, he pulled them even closer, holding his sobbing friend in silence. Minutes after minutes passed, neither of them knew how long they stood there, until Remy had cried all that there was for them to cry.

"Thank you, Emile." Remy mumbled, definitely sounding like they were feeling better. Emile slightly loosened up, not enough to break the comforting atmosphere, but enough to have their foreheads almost touch. He cupped their face, carefully wiping away the tears. "Always, Remy."

"Heeeyyy, guys. I just wanted to tell you it's almost closing time."

Emile waved Roman hello as Remy turned around, startled by the librarian who popped up out of nowhere as he continued talking.

"But if you want to stay a few- uh more minutes that's- that's not a-." Roman's words failed him, leaving him speechless for a few seconds.

"Woah. Those are fucking magnificent marks." Helpless faces stared at him, as if he just spoke in a different language. Roman cleared his throat and gestured at the stains. "Yea, your soulmate marks, don't tell me I am the first to see them!"

Emile looked at his hand, the palm no longer black but instead looking like white marble. At the same time Remy carefully touched his face, right where Emile's hand was just a moment ago while they turned around to their best friend again.

They looked at each other. Emile's heart grew warm as he saw the young adult standing in front of him. His best friend with not only a clueless look on their face but also a handprint in the most beautiful blue Emile had ever seen.

Roman was sure, at this point Emile made actual heart eyes at Remy. He smoothly stepped forward and handed them a tiny mirror. He believed it to be of great importance to always carry one with you. Roman then left them alone to put a few more books back in the shelves. It appeared this day he could not close on time, but it didn't bother him at all.

Remy couldn't trust their eyes as they saw their reflection. The hand print that shocked them so much this morning, that made them so angry, that they slowly knew they would grow to hate was now as blue and deep as the sky.

They looked back at Emile, delicately waving his right hand, the palm like white marble. He had a smile that bright, it could easily compete and win against the bubbly-sunshine Patton.

Emile raised his hand and carefully put it on his friend's face. That touch alone was enough to make Remy burst into tears of happiness as they fell into a tight hug. They could have spent hours standing there, holding the other as close as physically possible, if it weren't for Roman.

"Guys, I am having a Déjà vu here." They let go of each other, just then being able to stop laughing.

Emile looked like he would pass out from excitement any second as he very proudly declared: "Well, looks like I have the best freaking soulmate on this planet, huh?"

Remy took Emile's hand in theirs, tracing the grey lines. "Emile." They cleared their throat as they met their soulmate's rich chocolate brown eyes. "I don't need fate to know we're meant to spend our lives together."

[merlins-hurt-comfort]

Tragic Young Blood

Fandom: BBC Merlin Warnings: blood, sword wound, death threats, murder Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Morgana Wordcount: 1522

A/N: this one only is four months old. a friend and i came up with the idea that if bbc merlin exists in every parallel universe then there must be one where arthur doesn’t quite react to the magic reveal the way merlin expects him to. things just really get out of hand.

“This is how it happens,” Arthur thought, his bloody hands firmly pressed against the stab wound. “This is how I will die.” He walked over to a big wall, slid down and closed his eyes.

Arthur has heard about those tales of the old and mighty kings, what an honour it was to be slain in battle and die amongst your knights. And while he was always prepared to die, those tales seemed to be so far away, too distant to be true for such a young boy.

And yet, here he was. And Merlin was here too. Arthur couldn't remember when Merlin arrived or where he came from but god- he was so glad to see him. He always was, he just never really said it. “Merlin, where have you been?”

It was dark, he couldn't see much- and the stab wound didn't make it any better. But he knew Merlin was beyond worried about him.

He could feel it, it hurt to see Merlin like this. He was shaking, trying to make Arthur's situation better by bringing him water, checking on the wound and keeping the small fire warm and burning.

Arthur wanted to ask how Merlin was feeling, getting him to calm down, when Merlin answered Arthur's previous question: “It doesn't matter now. I thought I'd defied the prophecy. I thought I was in time.”

The young blond was confused, but equally curious, so he asked: “What are you talking about?”

“This is it,” the young sorcerer thought anxiously. “This is the moment I have feared ever since I first walked into Camelot all those years ago.” He always thought that when the time came he would be ready to stand up for who he was and proudly say it, but that's not what it felt like, not at all. This felt more like a rip-it-off-like-a-bandaid-situation. “I'd defeated the Saxons. The dragon. And yet, I knew it was Mordred that I must stop.”

Arthur's confusion grew. This wasn't the usual nonsense Merlin talked about.

“The person who defeated them was the sorcerer.”

“Why does this only get harder the longer I wait?” Merlin had to say it.

Arthur didn't like where this was going. This couldn't be what Merlin was trying to say. He internally begged Merlin not to say it, but-

“It was me.” -there it was. The king took a deep breath. “Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. This is stupid, why would you say that?” He hoped Merlin simply didn't know what he was talking about.

Merlin, on the other hand, could feel Arthur's panic rising- hell, he didn't feel different, but he had to come clear. There was no going back. Arthur would understand, he had to. He changed. He knew Merlin wasn't evil.

“I'm a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.” He bowed a little, not daring to look his king- his friend into his eyes.

Arthur's world stopped. Merlin did it, he changed everything. After spending so many years by his side, after falling in love with his servant and best friend, he betrayed him. Merlin has been hiding this the whole time. He had magic. And magic was commonly known to be evil. Merlin couldn't be spared, he needed to stay tough.

“Leave.”

That was a cold reaction, but Merlin knew he deserved it. Arthur just needed some time, he surely would understand, he would, he had to, he- “Leave and don't ever come back. Magic is illegal and you knew that. If I shall ever see you again, I will have to sentence you to death for treason.”

That's something Merlin didn't expect to happen. Arthur couldn't mean that, he just couldn't, he was angry, that must be it. Merlin teared up, hurt. He couldn't leave Arthur forever, he was his destiny. “Arthur, you-”

“No, Merlin. I am sorry, but I mean it. You yourself  have told me how evil magic was. I am giving you the chance to run, now. Keep your life for you have changed mine for the best. I am begging you, run, or I will have to kill you.”

Arthur was in tears and they both knew it wasn't the stab wound making him cry. Merlin, too, had tears streaming down his face. Arthur was his king, his best friend, his love- and this is how it shall end? Merlin couldn't accept this. Surely he could talk to Arthur some more, get him to change his mind. This was a stupid idea, to tell him.

He should never have done this, cold regret filled his body.

Merlin's cold frustration and regret grew into hot anger. Was Arthur that blind to think that magic itself was evil? He even had a metallic piece of magic in his body. Merlin could sense it. He would show Arthur just how evil magic could be.

The king could feel that something happened with the piece of the blade that was stuck in his left side.

Merlin did something, and it wasn't good. Merlin wasn't good. That realisation struck Arthur hard and cold, like a big wave. And the pain in his side grew unbearingly.

He looked up to Merlin, who had been standing a few feet away, keeping his save distance, ever since Arthur told him to leave. Merlin didn't cry anymore, he stared at the ground, all Arthur could hear was Merlin's shaking breathing, not getting any better. Arthur tried to get his attention by softly calling the servants- no, the sorcerer's name. “Merlin?”

Arthur could feel a sharp internal sting, his wound started bleeding again. “Merlin, please, don't make this any harder.” The called boy finally looked up, and that's when Arthur saw the anger in his face. This was getting worse.

“Merlin, please, leave now. Don't do thi-”

Arthur coughed, covered his mouth with his hand, only to look at a bloody hand after the coughs stopped. His couldn't breathe anymore. Merlin was doing this.

The person he least expected to was about to end his life. But what's worse for Arthur, is that he forgave him. He closed his eyes and forgave him.

Seconds passed and turned into minutes. Merlin still stood at that exact place, keeping the safe distance. But close enough to talk to Arthur about his magic. Because that's what he wanted to do, just talk- and now it was too late.

“That's it,” Merlin thought, still blankly staring at the spot where Arthur sat when he told him to leave. He reallly wanted to talk. But Arthur didn't let him. His king wanted him to leave. But he- He didn't know, what did he do? He didn't want that, he didn't mean it- or did he? His mind was running wild.

The cold realisation took over. Merlin couldn't progress it, or even just sit down, numb by the ice cold shock. He killed the love of his life, his destiny and the pain hurt every inch of his body. Arthur was right all along, magic was evil. Merlin was evil, and what he just did proved it.

The silence got interrupted.

“Oh, what a turn of events, I could not have done it better!” Merlin turned around to see- Morgana. How long had she been here? What did she see? The sorcerer asked himself how he didn't notice her before, her dark aura swallowed everything.

“What are you doing here? You got what you wanted,” Merlin spit those words at her.

Morgana started laughing, she really thought this whole betrayal and suffering- she thought this was amusing. She found joy in Merlin's pain.

“Oh, what I wanted was to take my dear brother's life, but then I arrive here to find the both of you and you made it so much better, Emrys. You really showed him how evil magic could be. Shall I tell you a secret? We are not so different, you and I.“

There couldn't be any truth about that, and even just earlier this day he would have disagreed in a second. But now, she was right, he simply didn't wish it to be true. They were the same and either of them knew it. Their magic was evil, something Merlin couldn't quite wrap his head around yet.

His magic was evil. He was evil.

“Oh, this is just too easy.”

Too late Merlin saw the sword that Morgana was holding.

Before Merlin was able do to anything about it at all, even if he wanted to do something in the first place, he felt a sharp pain in his torso that took over his whole being in hot agony when Morgana pulled the sword out of his body.

Merlin carefully touched the spot where the sword was just a moment ago and raised the hand, his fingertips covered in blood. He could feel it, this blade was forged to slay him.

The sorcerer didn't fight. He didn't resist. He dropped on his knees; couldn't hold his sitting body- and fell over.

He closed his eyes. It was better this way.

“Farewell, Emrys.”

[merlins-hurt-comfort]

Last Words

Fandom: BBC Merlin Warnings: blood, violence, gunshot, death Pairing: Merlin/Arthur Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Morgana, two unnamed side characters Wordcount: 1274

A/N: i wrote this fanfiction in november 2018 oh lord that was a long time ago and i just hope people still like it, now enjoy the angst :)

It’s been a few years now since Detective Arthur Pendragon and Detective Sergeant Merlin Emrys met. Neither of them were that happy about it first but now that Emrys’s old precinct’s police office has been shut own, there was no option for both of them other than to work together. Even though it was a rough start, they soon grew to be even better partners than Lancelot and Gwaine, whom have been partners for almost a decade at this point.

Merlin and Arthur’s friendship always was quite hard to put in words, they necked and provoked each other but also flirted without being aware of it. It soon happened that they fell in love. I guess what they say is true, that love makes one blind, because the only ones not knowing that Merlin and Arthur loved each other were, unfortunately, Merlin and Arthur.

And when I say they were the only ones, I mean it. Everyone else knew it, hell, they even made bets about how long it would take Emrys and Pendragon to notice and confess their feelings.

Lancelot was confident about Merlin confessing first, while Gwaine always joked about Arthur confessing to Merlin on his death bed, right before he dies, that’s how blind they were.

Little did he know that he’d win the bet.

Neither Lancelot, nor Gwaine or Merlin expected this to happen. Especially because, right before every case they worked, Arthur would tell Merlin to stay safe because “I am not jumping in front of a bullet for you. If I have time to jump, you have time to move, idiot.”

Ironically speaking, this is what happened after all.

A few hours ago, they left the precinct, Detective Pendragon and Sergeant Emrys. After Gwaine and Lancelot have been undercover observing the biggest drugs smuggling gang for months, they found out how to get hold of the leader, Morgana. It only took Gwaine minutes to inform the office and a few more minutes till Arthur and Merlin left.

“Remember, toad. I won’t save you from the guaranteed gunfight coming up when we’ll face Morgana.” Arthur muttered, half busy putting on his coat, half busy loading his gun. Merlin always took it as a hypothetical joke, made to neck him. But even though he was a professional and very good not only Detective but also Sergeant, he hasn’t been in a gunfight so far, that’s why he just smirked and gave a short “Alright, clot pole.” as an answer.

The following twenty-three minutes were filled with silence. Both of them were tense, a little bit scared (even if they wouldn’t admit it) but still determined to stop Morgana, whatever it takes. She was known throughout Camelot as reckless, careless and simply dangerous.

They arrived the old looking warehouse, parked the car and were sure not to make a single sound while they surrounded the building already keeping their guns prepared to shoot if necessary.

After they met again, they took two more guns out of the trunk and stormed the building.

“CPD! HANDS IN THE AIR!” Arthur yelled after they kicked down the front door. They no longer held their guns at their side now but instead stretched out in front of them, aiming through the big hall.

Detective Emrys tossed a loaded gun to each Lancelot and Gwaine, both of them now aimed at Morgana. She got up from the table jerkily and pulled out a gun from behind her back.

To everyone’s fright she shot the two other gang members who have been with her, Lance and Gwaine in the warehouse.

And even though she was surrounded by four detectives, each of them aiming at her with his gun, she seemed to be too calm, slowly aiming her gun at Arthur’s torso.

“Stop this, there’s no way you’ll get out of this.”, Merlin declared but nevertheless the criminal mastermind stayed calm and you might say, happy or excited, as she answered:

“I always hoped, I’d face you again, brother.” The last word, hissed, was meant for Detective Pendragon.

It was true, the leader of Camelot’s most feared and wanted drug gang was the sister of one of Camelot’s most admired and skilled detective. He was rather not impressed by her calmness and that’s what he let her know.

“Go ahead, fire your gun. It’ll be your worst mistake.”

Still aiming her gun at Arthur, ignoring Merlin, Lancelot and Gwaine, she continued the conversation.

“Dear brother, do you have any idea why I, indeed, am as dangerous as everyone says?”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t have anyone to die for, you do.”

Everything happened so fast, as if you press fast forward on the remote when you watch a movie. Morgana aimed at Detective Sergeant Emrys and pulled the trigger. Only a fragment of a second after the shot a second one was heard, and Morgana stumbled and fell. The excitement about it wasn’t big. Morgana may not have shot Merlin, but instead he was pushed to the side by Arthur who laid on the floor bracing himself with his left elbow on the floor while pressing his right hand on the wound. Merlin got up, ignored his own, definitely not relevant pain and kneeled down next to Arthur and carefully pulled him on his lap.

“You- you promised me not to do something stupid like that.”, Merlin’s voice broke, he panicked. “I can’t lose you.”

“Merlin. I knew from the start, I’d do anything to save your life. I -I couldn’t live without you.”, he coughed.

“Do you think I can continue without you, you stay alive, do you hear me?” Merlin got a bit louder now and hectically he was pressing on Arthur’s wound, trying to stop the bleeding, which wasn’t easy because there was an entrance wound to also keep pressure on.

He barely noticed Lancelot calling an ambulance while Gwaine attempted to calm Merlin down but turned to Morganas dead body as he gave up after realizing – there was no possibility to calm Merlin down. How? His best friend, his love was dying in his arms. Gwaine felt helpless.

“You deserve to live, Merlin. Camelot needs you.”

Detective Emrys increased the pressure on the wounds, somehow trying to stop both bleedings.

“Oh no –no -no -no, you’re not -you’re not going to say goodbye.” Merlin’s voice broke again, his words broke as he started to cry.

“Hey, hey. Shhhh. Merlin. Just -just hold me. Please.” He raised his arm, put his hand on Merlin’s cheek and softly brushed away the tears.

Merlin slowly bent his head down to Arthur, who still hasn’t let go of his cheek and now attempted a little smile.

Both waited a few seconds, three, four, closed their eyes when Merlin kissed Arthur, first softly, barely even felt. Then again with more pressure. What both of them felt at this very moment can’t easily be described.

It was something very intense, something mixed. Happiness and love, warmth and above all, still the pain. Heartbreaking pain as Arthur knew his time was coming and Merlin knew he was about to lose his love, not being able to do anything. He pulled away, but only a bit, still held Detective Pendragon close.

“I want to say -something I’ve never said to you before. The last years -with you -have been the best years of my life. -I love you, Merlin.”

He felt Arthur’s hand on his cheek, the touch easing up, he sobbed uncontrolled. Being too weak to hold up his own body, he broke down, pulled his lover as close as he was able to for one last time.

“I love you too.”