#Especially because Morgana could’ve told him in the end anyway!

[eldritch-ambrosia]

I haven’t seen all of Merlin yet (putting off the angst!) so correct me if I’m wrong but the magic reveal to Arthur coming straight from Merlin is so important to me because it’s the only time he gets to tell someone.

Everyone else finds out through seeing him cast magic when he didn’t want them to know (Lancelot, Gaius, Will), being told by someone else (Morgana), or figuring it out on their own (Gwen, Gwaine) and any of those could’ve happened to Arthur. They were all incredibly possible but, in the end, Merlin gets to tell him. He’s choking back sobs and clutching onto him like his life depends on it and he gets to make the choice for the first time.

“I’m a sorcerer. I have magic. And I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

[whitewitch95]

alright, I'm usually over at twitter or discord spewing my thoughts and prompts, but I feel like the Merlin fandom is bigger over here, so maybe someone appreciates that

Thoughts and a fanfic prompt to s2ep07 The Witchfinder

Aredian accuses Merlin of magic bc of the amulet he placed in the physician's quarters, and from the look in his eye, presumably speculates that Gaius will "confess" that it's his - what Gaius of course does because he loves Merlin like his own son. During the episode, still-innocent Morgana is on Aredian's radar as well, just bc Gaius treated her nightmares, and we learn that although Gaius confesses, Aredian still wants to "expose Merlin and Morgana's evil deeds".

I feel like most people - once we realize that Aredian is an asshole who stages all the "sorcerer sightings" for money, and Arthur once more is more reasonable than Uther and helps Merlin save the day, who is actually doing all the work again - I feel like most people tend to forget that Aredian actually precisely accused 3 real sorcerers of sorcery. Yes, neither of them did what they'd been accused of, but nonetheless, Aredian points them out with eerie precision.

So WHAT IF Aredian actually has some weak magic himself? Like the "funny feelings" Merlin sometimes gets when he just instinctively knows shit's gonna go downhill or when he feels drawn towards other people's/being's magic? Like an actual witchfinder, you know, not skilled enough to play detective and catch sorcerers in the act, maybe not even interested in upholding the laws against sorcery or not, just as long as he gets payment and fame - but what if he makes those seemingly random *finger point* "THAT BOY" accusations that nobody ever questions bc of his own weak magic that makes him sensitive for it?

Okay, so now comes the prompt idea. We all probably laughed when cheeky Merlin exposes Aredian with that toad coming out of his mouth on top of everything else, but imagine he doesn't bc that would be too obvious and instead just places the "fake" evidence in his room - that would leave Aredian the opportunity to use his mouth.

So what if, while Arthur and the knights are searching the room, Aredian thunders that "THAT BOY placed this here, HE'S the sorcerer, you have EVIL IN YOUR CASTLE" and Arthur only scoffs because please, that man is just ridiculous. And then, like *Merlin* did in the actual episode, *Aredian* turns away, half-hidden from view, whispers a spell that has Merlin's magic reacting, body spasming and eyes golden.

And Merlin is just standing there, struggling to hold his magic inside and not have it lashing out, and Aredian is smirking bc there's no way to explain that away, surely he has won now-

And Arthur whirls around, punching Aredian in the face, yelling at his knights about stuffing that man's mouth with a cloth before he says any more spells, and when Aredian fights them bc he finally realizes he's about to lose and then moves towards Morgana, Arthur runs him through with his sword.

Aredian is dead.

Merlin is still breathing hard, even though his magic has settled once again, and while everyone is shocked and panting and Arthur assures himself of Morgana's wellbeing, Merlin is On Edge. Because that was his actual magic reacting, and his own eyes turning golden in response to the spell, and a room full of knights, and Morgana, and Arthur were watching.

But when they all return to Uther, Arthur relays the story and it sounds as if Aredian, traitor of Camelot and apparently an evil sorcerer that has sent innocent people into their death, has enchanted Merlin to look as if he had magic, JUST like he did with hiding that amulet in Gaius chambers, to put the blame onto someone else.

Nobody questions it, not even Uther.

Merlin feels the tightness in his chest lessen, finally able to breathe normally again. He wants to laugh, really. Arthur is SO CONVINCED that his manservant is nothing more than a bumbling, but highly loyal idiot - and he has tried to protect Merlin, he remembers, right in front of Aredian and Uther and the whole court - that Arthur doesn't even consider Merlin could actually have magic.

When the day winds down, Merlin helps Arthur getting ready for bed, serving him dinner, tidying his chambers, still tired and wary, but incredibly relieved.

Until Arthur says, "So, Merlin," and Merlin freezes because that tone sounds chilling. Carefully, he straightens up and looks at Arthur, who's watching him with frighteningly intense eyes, gaze piercing. "Anything you have to say?"

"Uhm," Merlin hesitates, unsure what exactly Arthur means, heart beating wildly. "I don't know what you mean, Sire," he settles on, but that seems to be the wrong thing to say.

Arthur narrows his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe 'thank you', but I know manners aren't your strong suit, so how about the truth?"

"The truth?" Merlin laughs nervously, dear god, he shouldn't have let his guard down-

"YES, Merlin, the truth," Arthur growls, and then he's out of his chair, stomping towards Merlin. "Because I can assure you, this was the last time I've lied to my knights and my father and the entire court for you if you don't even have it in you to tell me the TRUTH!"

Arthus has him cornered against the bedpost now, and Merlin is trembling ever so slightly. Arthur's eyes are blazing, like a blue, furious thunderstorm, and Merlin knows there's no escaping this; especially because Arthur is right.

So he talks. He's hesitant at first, reinforcing that everything they found out about Aredian is the truth, that Merlin did not lie, that he did not *once* betray Arthur, or Camelot. Arthur looks as if he isn't sure if he fully believes Merlin, but he listens, and that is more than Merlin could've hoped for.

In the end, Merlin's voice is rough from talking, his face pale and tight with worry. Arthur has stepped back from him a while ago, first crossing his arms and snapping out questions, and then he started pacing.

"I swear," Merlin says lowly, "I never intended to bring anyone harm. I was born like this... and I have finally found a purpose."

"And what would that be, Merlin?" Arthur asks, but he doesn't sound harsh; he sounds tired, staring into the flames of the fireplace.

Merlin gulps. Now or never. "Protecting you. I- I wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to have to choose. Because no matter the outcome... it would've burdened you."

Still staring into the flames, Arthur laughs humorlessly. "And yet it seems I did it anyway."

At Merlin's silence, Arthur finally turns, and he almost looks sick. "Does Gaius know?"

"Yes," Merlin whispers, but he's not afraid that Arthur will punish Gaius for it. Arthus isn't Uther.

"Of course," Arthur mumbles, and his eyes show that he's working through what he's heard so far. "How could he not know? After all, a quite powerful warlock is living with him."

Shifting uncomfortably, Merlin wonders if there's anything he can say to make it easier for anyone, but there are no words he can think of.

Arthur scoffs, shaking his head. "That... that can't be..." he trails off, and he's reeling more than Merlin has ever seen him before. "That would mean-"

Abruptly, Arthur turns away, aiming for his chair, before he whirls around again and once more stomps towards Merlin.

"If you're telling the truth," Arthur snaps, and there's a threatening expression on his face, before it softens at Merlin's flinch. "Then why aren't you affected by the magic? Why do you still want to protect me, so much so that you're putting yourself at risk everyday?"

"I," Merlin starts, unsure. "I told you, I think... that you'll be a great king, and I-"

Arthur shakes his head. "No," he interrupts. "Why is the magic not tainting you? Why... why are you still you?" he finishes, quieter.

Merlins heart feels incredibly tender. "Because magic is just a tool, Arthur. Like sword fighting. A tool that some people can use, and some can't. A tool that sometimes is used for good, and sometimes for evil. Having magic says nothing about a person - but the way they use it does."

Silence, only the crackling of the fire can be heard as Merlin watches Arthur's face, seeing the emotions flit over it, the horrible realization. "Then..."

Merlin doesn't say anything. This is a conclusion Arthur should draw, alone, without Merlin's influence.

Arthur looks up, and the light of a candle reflects in his eyes. He looks vulnerable. Pleading. Incredibly young.

Merlin waits as Arthur turns away once more, running a hand through his golden hair, shoulders tense.

"If it's alright with you," Merlin carefully starts, "I'd look after Gaius now. He's gone through hell these past few days."

"Yes, yes," Arthur agrees, sounding crumpled under the weight of tonight's revelations. "Please pass on my well wishes to him again. What happened to him was... unjust." He gets hung up on that word apparently, because he repeats it under his breath, like a death sentence. "Unjust."

Tentatively, Merlin steps towards Arthur, but he doesn't know if it will be welcome right now.

"Goodnight, Sire."

The door has almost closed behind Merlin when he hears the faint "Goodnight" in return. He smiles. Maybe, just maybe, the horrors since the witchfinder arrived are leading the way to their destiny.

Addition: Maybe, because Arthur's actually kind of smart, he realized that Merlin has magic earlier, but tried to convince himself that he hasn't. And maybe Arthur puts two and two together about the witchfinder having actual magic, and he asks Merlin about Morgana. And maybe that would save her, and the kingdom, and ultimately himself. Just saying.

[fooltrick-a-blog]

It seemed as if all of Ann's courage had left her the moment Hibiki turned his attention upon her. She felt her cheeks grow warm, and her gaze dropped to the ground as she thrust a neatly-wrapped bag of homemade chocolates out to him without a word. It felt a little childish, yeah, but it was the first time she'd ever given someone non-obligatory Valentine's Day chocolate, and she couldn't help but be nervous--especially since she'd made the candies herself.

   she’d been so adamant about finding an out of the way place to talk, you’d almost been afraid something was wrong– in fact, you’re not entirely convinced there isn’t, the way ann’s shuffling in place anxiously. she’s looking at you, ducking her gaze, trying again– as though trying to well up the courage to just spit it out and be done with it already. her face is flushed… is she sick? you’ve half a mind to just drag her back inside; it’s chilly out, and surely whatever she has to say is worth a few custormers or sojiro hearing… 

   it’s not like anyone cares anyways; everyone’s too busy with their own love lives or commiserating over a lack of them. ryuji’s already whined to you about it enough times already today. ( yes, you’d told him, chocolate from his mom totally counts. … only it doesn’t, you know this because mom’s always given you and hitomi the leftovers of whatever she’s made for dad this year. you just didn’t want to crush him more than you already had. )

   oh. maybe she just doesn’t want hitomi or morgana hearing? you can see blue eyes watching you meaningfully when you glance over at the door, and shift uncomfortably; does he know about today? even worse, does he know you’re his “rival” for ann’s affections? the thought of potentially hurting the “totally-not-a-cat” makes your stomach do a flip– it always does, whenever you think about telling the blonde how you really feel, every time you brush against her, that one time you’d found yourself holding her hand in a busy crowd so you wouldn’t get separated and morgana was there… 

   ah, well. it’s not like ann’s about to whip out some chocolate or anything. maybe she wants to talk about the phantom thieves. you’ve long since turned in your masks, but people finding out you’d been the ones changing hearts would be… inconvenient. the craze still hasn’t died out yet, though now that everything has calmed down you’ve found you’ve been treated more like anime characters than anything. futaba’d been pretty eager to show you the slew of fanart the silhouettes broadcast all over tokyo had spawned on pixiv, after all… 

   but then… why would she ask you to talk outside to begin with? the privacy suddenly wouldn’t be so private anymore… your head is starting to spin from just how utterly confused you are by all of this, until ann finally finds her fire and thrusts a…

   oh.

   so it was something for valentine’s day after all. 

   and in that instant, your mind goes utterly blank. you forget everything you’ve been worrying about– whether she’s cold, if morgana’s okay, whether or not hitomi’s going to tease you for weeks on end about this… all you can focus on is the pretty bag and even prettier girl staring at the ground as though it’s the most interesting thing on the planet right about now. she’d gotten you chocolate. and from the looks of it, she’d tried to make it herself. 

   your heart swells as you find your own cheeks growing red, and it takes you a moment to tear yourself from your reverent – yet surprised – stare to gently accept the candy bag as delicately as though ann spun it from glass, a soft noise of admiration escaping your lips as you get a better look at it; it’s so cute…

   she is so cute.

“ann…” you breathe softly, voice almost drowned out by the sound of your heart thumping across your chest. “this is… for me?” 

   of course it is– that’s why she’s given them to you. dumbass. your own blush spreads to the tip of your ears, and you press on by carefully loosening the bow and fishing out one of the candies. it’s a little misshapen; clearly, ann made these herself. your heart flutters once more at the thought that she’d gone out of her way for you, and you pop the chocolate into your mouth. 

   it’s good! more than good– great, even!

“they’re really good, ann,” you beam at her, tying the bag back up and placing it into your pocket so you can pull the blonde into a hug without crushing it. “thank you! i’d… actually forgotten all about valentine’s day ‘till now, heh. i’m… really glad you thought of me. it’s… all i could’ve asked for and– hell, it’s more.”

   your voice softens, and your grip tightens for just one moment, before loosening once more. “did you… want to go out somewhere, maybe? boss actually doesn’t need me around today, so… it would be nice to spend the day with you. just you– no hitomin or morgana tagging along.” 

more than nice, but you don’t want to misinterpret the chocolate. it could just be obligation chocolate; perhaps leftovers for a gift to suzui-san? your heart sinks at the thought, but you refuse to give up. even if it’s just because you’re friends, ann thought of you all the same…

   god, you’re going to have to pull out all the stops for white day, aren’t you? mom’s going to be over the moon when you ask her for ideas… and hitomin’ll never let you hear the end of it, either. 

   it’s worth it for ann, though. more than worth it. it always has been.

@heartwilled | happy ( belated ) valentine’s day!

[connan-l]

Quiet moments — Chapter 1: Michel and Maria

Fandom: The House in Fata Morgana

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationship: Michel Bollinger & Maria Campanella

Summary: A collection of unrelated short one-shots containing interactions between two The House in Fata Morgana characters.

Content Warnings: Very brief mentions of child prostitution, child abuse and suicidal ideation.

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Link on Archive of Our Own

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Notes: I just love making characters who wouldn’t normally interact, well, interact — and I also love giving attention to side and minor characters no one care about, so that’s how it happened. I wrote this on a whim and have no idea when I’ll be able to update it though, so don’t expect anything from me.

This will take place literally anywhere among the main game, Requiem and Reincarnation, so beware of spoilers!

I used the ‘Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings’ on AO3 just by precaution, but I don’t think there will be much to warn about, really. And if there is, I’ll put a content warning on top of the chapter anyway.

Takes place during Door 8, after Yukimasa told his story and Michel went to speak with Maria.

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Maria sat next to him and started talking, as promised. Despite being her usual assertive, confident self, she seemed a bit reluctant to discuss about her past — not because she was especially distrustful of Michel (although she still seemed pretty skeptical about everything he had told her), but because it just was her nature, he guessed. Given she was a young woman who grew up alone in a poor, dangerous district, it was only to be expected.

“I’m not actually born in this country, y’know?” She said suddenly.

“You’re not?” Michel asked, but he was not all that surprised. After all, Maria had been an Italian woman in the third door, so although a lot of things had changed in this era, it wasn’t odd that she wasn’t French.

“Yeah. I don’t really remember much about my hometown, though. I left when I was like, five or six maybe. My family… I think they must’ve been merchants or something, and they were travelling here for business. But they got into an accident and died. I had no one else, so I went into an orphanage here. I was a newly-orphaned foreign kid who barely spoke the language at all, so it was pretty rough at first…” She smirked. “But that’s when I met Pauline. She was a foreigner too, so although we didn’t come from the same country, I think maybe we felt some sort of kinship and that’s why we ended up clinging to each other…”

Michel tried to picture the two little girls in his mind; a mischievous six-year-old Maria and a tiny Pauline awkwardly following her around, none of them truly speaking the other’s languages but still trying to understand and play together… This mental image made him smile gently.

“Then you know the rest. Got fed up with the orphanage, ran away, ended up here and started working at the brothel… but anyway, you wanted to hear about Morgana, right? Bet you don’t care much about some ol’ whore’s childhood, haha.”

She laughed light-heartedly — as if she was talking about someone else, a character in a story, and not about her own difficult past. Michel winced instinctively, and hoped it didn’t show too much on his face. Maria had already briefly told them earlier about the abuse she experienced at the orphanage and that she became a prostitute when she was still just a young child. This life seemed so detached and so far away from the one he had lived that he struggled to imagine what it must’ve been like.

“There were… no other options for you at the time?” He asked softly, tentatively. “Maybe you could’ve gone to another orphanage, or…”

Maria narrowed her eyes with an annoyed expression, and Michel understood immediately he had said something insensitive.

“Which options?” She snapped back. “No way on earth I would’ve gone to another orphanage, I was done with that shit. It was the brothel or starving on the fucking street, so the choice was quickly made. Not everyone can be a noble rolling in dough like you, my dude.”

“Wha— How do you know I’m a noble?”

“Well, you just have that aura, you know? Your manners, the way you speak, you seem well-educated… You’re like that cute blonde pipsqueak — it’s just obvious we don’t live in the same sphere.”

Michel wondered if it really was that obvious, or if Maria was just very acute. Maybe it was both. He remembered, centuries ago, that Giselle had told him something similar, too — that he had a ‘regal’ aura, though back then he could never say if she was teasing him or if she was serious.

“I really… don’t consider my life to be that bad,” Maria whispered, her voice unusually quiet. “I mean, obviously it’s not great. I’ve been through some shitty times, I won’t deny that. I certainly wouldn’t complain if one day my good pal God took pity in me and decided to make me rich.”

She looked up in front of her — towards the horizon, her eyes vacant, and started to rub her naked arms. Michel couldn’t tell if it was because she was cold or because she tried to comfort herself from some bad memories.

“But… the simple fact that I am still alive right now makes me feel pretty damn lucky. Not everyone can say the same. So many of my friends — good, nice folks — didn’t get the same chance…”

The more he listened to her, and the more Michel felt kind of… uneasy. Had he ever felt like he was ‘lucky’ to be alive? Even during his darkest times, when he was locked up in his room at the Bollinger estate or during the ten years living in that haunted mansion, he couldn’t remember a moment where just the fact to be alive felt like a blessing. It rather felt like a curse, honestly. He couldn’t count the number of times he thought about dying, about all the times he almost made a suicide attempt — but how every time, old, fond childhood recollections of his brothers would come flocking back and make him hope that, maybe, just maybe, things could get better. But the idea that others may have had worse than him — like the dead girl who he tried to ignore for years and never attempted to understand, because understanding her would mean actually seeing her like a person and not like a formless cackling witch — thus that he should feel lucky never once crossed his mind. Back then, he was way too deep into his own pain and suffering that it never seemed relevant — until he met Giselle, that is.

And now that he thought about it… Michel certainly couldn’t say he had an easy childhood by any stretch of the imagination — especially not after his fourteen years old — but he still had been lucky enough to have been born into a noble and rich family. Aside from those two terrible years he spent being abused by Aimée, he couldn’t recall a time where he felt hungry or missed of anything. The same couldn’t be said of Maria.

Maybe she truly was good at reading people, because she seemed to instantly guess his train of thoughts and added: “Hey now, I didn’t say that to guilt-trip you or anything. I’m not interested in pity, anyway.”

“I wasn’t…”

She sighed. “If you nobles really feel so bad, then actually do something and use your power and money for a good cause, instead of ruminating. Some peeps could really need that.”

“Well… I am technically… not exactly a noble anymore…”

“Oh?”

“I was disowned.” And then I was killed, he thought. But I can’t exactly tell her that. “So I don’t have any power anymore. Though… even back then, I never had any actual power… everything was decided by my father and older brothers…”

“Hmm… Is that so… That sucks,” she declared, before crossing her arms. “So you had brothers?”

“Yes, but…” He took a deep breath. “We… something happened, and… They…”

Michel hesitated. Should he really start talking about himself right now? To Maria, of all people, who he only (technically) first met yesterday? But then he looked at the woman next to him in the eyes, who was silently and attentively listening to him. And he felt the need to continue.

“They betrayed me. And… they’re dead now. They died… a long time ago…”

He felt his chest tightening as soon as he mentioned his brothers, and his hands trembling a little. Maybe he shouldn’t have started talking about them after all. Mell and Nellie’s debacle had already reawakened some bad memories, and right now he needed to stay focused on Morgana and Giselle and—

Suddenly, he felt a soft, comforting pressure on his shoulder. When he turned around, he saw Maria looking at him with understanding green eyes as she was gently holding his shoulder, like an old friend would do.

“I dunno what happened to you exactly, so sorry if I asked something I shouldn’t have…”

“No, it’s fine…”

Maria looked away, wincing a little. “Though I… can relate. I had… well, I’m an only child, but… I did have someone I considered a brother once. And he… also betrayed me.”

Michel frowned, and was going to ask her more details… but then Maria looked at him and smiled.

“He died a long time ago too.”

It was… a strange smile. There was something nostalgic in it. Bitter, maybe. But also tender. Gentle. It wasn’t a smile he’d ever thought he’d see on the face of that rambunctious woman.

“I’m… sorry,” he said, stupidly, not being able to think something more eloquent.

She shrugged. “It’s okay. Like I said, it was a long time ago. I’m over it now.”

Michel could tell by the way she looked away and the sound of her voice that it was a lie. Maybe it hurt less — just like the intense pain of his brothers’ betrayal had slowly faded with time. But it wasn’t something you could just ‘get over.’

“Well, your brothers were idiots,” she suddenly said, and Michel arched an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It sounds like it’d be nice to have you as a brother, so they must’ve been idiots to betray you. I mean, you seem like a handful, but I’m sure I’d have a lot of fun teasing you. Too bad I wasn’t born as your sis. In another life maybe?”

Maria gently punched Michel in the shoulder with a wide grin and a wink, which earned him a chuckle. He wondered how much his life would have changed if he had had a sister in it, especially a sister like Maria. Would it have made things better? Or worse?

He couldn’t tell. However, he certainly wouldn’t refuse to have her as a sibling in another life.