#I. NEED. MORE. IMMORTAL. MERLIN. CONTENT.

[thefallenangel2008]

An immortal Merlin headcanon I have: Merlin doesn't give a shit about his safety. Yes, he's distrustful and anxious around people (because can you IMAGINE the amount of trauma and PTSD this man got from people after 1500 years of being alive? Also I hc him being socially awkward after so long 🫶), but after living his entire life unable to die no matter how much he wants to and after escaping so many close calls just because he's immortal, he just doesn't give a fuck. Imagine Arthur coming back and Merlin stressing over every time they go outside why he shouldn't cross the road without looking both ways first or why he shouldn't leave his side, just for Merlin to walk into oncoming traffic right after. Arthur literally has to pull him back by the scarf like a cat and say his classic "Merlin, are you an idiot?!"

[amacaronexpert]

Yandere Aleph

A Reverse 1999 Yandere! AU x GN! Reader (I need this man and more yandere content for him lol-)

Headcannons, Scenarios, and ideas (heavy spoiler warning for Chapter 9 of Reverse 1999)

TW: Delusional, Yandere Themes, Obsession, Toxic Relationships

Aleph is an interesting character in of themselves, immortality, having a perfect memory to the point it is seen as more of a curse than a blessing, to cope with it all, Aleph’s mind has developed Dissociative Identity Disorder, only three are known yet there are possibly more, but for now we only know these three, The Answering Machine, The Idealist, and Dr. Merlin. Aleph will carry out experiments in order to achieve an answer to better suit his role as an advisor, their personalities all have the same goal of Transcendentality, or achieve some concept of what it is, but the Idealist and Dr. Merlin pursue it through different methods.

So how would a character like Aleph, or more accurately a Yandere! Aleph, pursue their S/O?

The Answering Machine seems to be the most to be referred to as Aleph, so safe to assume that he takes most of the control, though obviously will be susceptible to be taken over by Dr. Merlin or the Idealist. He is sorta like a walking contradiction if I do say so myself, he acts like a cold and calculating machine, he gives only answers, neutral no matter what, he observes from the sidelines. He lived for countless years, his perfect memory, all the knowledge he has, yet will actively pursue an experiment or create a scenario to observe how it will play out in order to provide an answer to the person who gave him that question. Yet he shows emotion, albeit only genuine confusion, or pain from keeping the other alter egos at bay.

The Idealist is literal, he is sort of a whimsical man, he is impulsive, he knows how to compel people to rebellion as shown in Chapter 9, he is poetic as he is picking arguments when they don’t align with his views, like how he butt heads with Dr. Merlin when it comes with how to pursue Transcendentality.

While Dr. Merlin is very controlling and manipulative, he is stern and strict, he doesn’t like to be pushed, he performs unforgivable crimes and acts, like his twisted surgeries and the experiments of the panopticon.

So what would an S/O do to deal with them? Whether difficult, or easy, it is to entertain them, they are dangerous (since besides having an artifact made from a god’s corpse that can make anything into reality, Dr. Merlin is a real threat), try to help Aleph keep Dr. Merlin at bay, even if it means pitting them against each other, though seeing that this man lived for a long while, they are difficult to manipulate if Dr. Merlin is in control. Another easy way of distraction are questions though you have to be very elaborate if you want Aleph to be distracted long enough.

Having a Yandere like Aleph would be complicated, different identities, different personalities, they will want something of their S/O, Dr. Merlin would be all about control over their S/O, the Idealist being overbearing with his desire of his S/O listening to his musings and want their attention on his about literature. While the Answering Machine, while kind of difficult to pinpoint what exactly he wants, since he’s so used to being an advisor, I think the Answering Machine is the most tame with his wants, probably being a base yandere in terms of simply being around their S/O and receiving their constant attention.

Aleph will be sort of tame but not in terms of handling their obsession. But I think their yandere tendencies will flare up the more their patience thins.

The idealist is delusional in his patience, fully believing and expecting that their S/O would come to them willingly if given enough time, believing that the charms of literature would lure their S/O closer into their embrace. The Answering Machine’s observatory tendencies will border more closely to stalk their Darling but he will stop at certain points, just watching everything from the sidelines, fiddling around with the fabric of his clothes a little nervously yet patiently, rather the only one who bluntly follows his feelings in terms of wanting to get closer with his Darling, he’s immortal, he learned a lot, to the point where he just follows on the question that was asked of him, he doesn’t really ask questions, he follows.

Dr. Merlin is stern, and he is very controlling, so having these feelings of obsession, of softness rather disgusts him. Why does he feel the indescribable need to be near you? Why does he feel weak when you speak? Why does he feel violent when you are paying attention to someone else and not to him as he lectures about the inner workings of the mind?

Dr. Merlin will immediately try to keep his Darling close, overprotective and possessive about them, yet curious, wanting nothing more than to cut them open, to see what was different about them, maybe their mind might satisfy his curiosity about his unwillingness to part with them. He would want to know everything about you, what makes you tick, what makes you scream, what makes you… you. And his obsession over you easily makes him a more controlling Yandere, his form of affection will be controlling every aspect of you, just his perfect Darling, that never questions his authority, that he will never fret about when he has them around him at all times, being lectured about the perfection of his experiments and his way of pursuing the truth of Transcendentality is the only way.

Aleph, I think, is a very patient yandere due to their immortality and the slight idea of the Answering Machine is keeping the others at bay, though as the patience thinned, Dr. Merlin will be more manipulative, more obsessive over their S/O in terms of them just letting their S/O be while Dr. Merlin is not so happy about letting their Darling go when he believes that simply trapping their S/O with them is a short and quick answer to their yearning.

The obsession varies little I think depends on if their S/O is a human or arcanist, as either way, Aleph might project himself onto them, most definitely project the concept of Transcendentality onto their Darling, an unobtainable concept, a truth that is outside of their reach, only this time, it is someone. Someone who can be easily be close with them, be able to touch and grasp ahold of and never let it go.

Albeit if their Darling tries to escape, it seems that you foolishly forgotten that this is a mentally unstable man that has a reality warping artifact. Still even without the Tear of Comala, Aleph can find you, after all he has so much knowledge, he lived more than long enough to understand the mind and its workings, especially that of his darling’s tendencies in the face of danger. Think mostly Aleph doesn’t leave their Darling alone and any escape attempts are quickly cut short, the one who would most definitely prolong them for a sadistic stream is Dr. Merlin, I may see the Answering Machine doing it at certain times but I think it’s mostly out of his observant tendencies, he would do it out of a fascination of watching you and see how you handle certain challenges unintentionally or intentionally giving you a false sense of hope before stripping the false sense of freedom from you immediately afterwards.

The deliberate patient steps, the mutterings of his personalities, the whimsical musings of the Idealist crooning on about his delusional fantasies, the impatience and warning gruff tone of Dr. Merlin’s threats about keeping you on an operating table or any other subject of his cruel “punishments”, to the calm and unnerving confusion of the Answering Machine as this singular person surveyed the empty corridors, he doesn’t seem mad, his expression is never known as he wore that mask on his face.

It wouldn’t take long for Aleph to find you, the man that obsessed over every little detail about you, your habits, what would be even more terrifying is Dr. Merlin playing with you if you escaped.

He would not hold back on using the Tear of Comala, toying with it as your vision is disoriented, the long winding corridors now a maze, trapping you like a helpless mouse in a controlled environment. You could hear the musings of Dr. Merlin, how he will not be so lenient, he wants you to know who is in control, who is stuck under his boot. To tease your vision with visages of reality shifting in on you, as if a snake coiling around your body, as though he is squeezing the defiance out of your being.

Dr. Merlin will not take this attempt so lightly, so he might force you in the labyrinth, ignoring you for long periods of time, but he will be eagerly listening and watching, wanting you to admit defeat, admit your dependence. And while he could force you to say it with easy through the Tear of Comala, he much prefer to hear your own lips to willingly tell him of how right he is.

Also, on another fucked note for you if you try to escape, Aleph can use the Tear of Comala to will his other Alter egos into existence, so imagine of terrifying it would be to have three people that are technically the same person trailing after you throughout the prison, the Answering Machine’s slow and predictable paces, the Idealist musing aloud while being delusional in his loud and convincing belief that you willingly come back into his embrace, all will be forgiven and forgotten, no harm will come in giving in. All the while Dr. Merlin is holding his hacksaw his voice is as stern as it is ruthlessly demanding that you show your face, to cease the coy denial of his advances, before he stops acting docile and go be a damn menace.

What is more humiliating and disturbing than to by cornered by three identities that are technically one madman? Probably being humiliated by their treatment of you after your failed attempt. Dragging you back and treating you like a fool that should not be allowed to be left unsupervised. The Idealist sort of talks down to you in a sort of praise like manner, he is pretty selfish and egotistical, so to see his poor darling failing to keep up with his wits, he won’t judge, much, there is room for improvement after all, just stay with him more often before you try to challenge his genius, okay?

Don’t even get me started on Dr. Merlin’s humiliating remarks after he drags you back into the depths of his domain, the amount of snide comments and talking down to you like a misbehaving pet or some fool that can barely comprehend the instructions of a simple lecture. Just stick to doing what you’re good at, listening to him and follow him more obediently, he’s probably the kind of petty guy to actually collar his Darling if they push their buttons. A dog would probably be more obediently and not question his authority than you.

As for the Answering Machine, he’s the more lenient one but he keeps you close at an arm’s length, confused on you leaving him. You wouldn’t want to leave, not when he knows all to well the workings of the outer world, the workings of the human mind, how cruel and evil it is, how the limits of the corruption of society never ends. Logically he is your best chance of survival in the face of the storm, he is the only one that you can rely on for the answers to your questions, your curiosities.

Why don’t you just stay with him, let yourself be with him? You are the only person he ever had such feelings of fascination, to perceive every single detail about you, to understand you, he most definitely knows a lot more about you than yourself. He knows how to tug at the heart, how to handle your doubts, what words made you susceptible to his manipulation. He is calm, he doesn’t panic, he only observes. Taking in your reactions, the mannerisms, the cues of your gestures. He is careful before he speaks. He probably guilts you into staying with him better than actually admitting that his actions are wrong.

Overall… I think Aleph is a pretty hard Yandere to get rid of, and a hard one to even try to manipulate to escape, its probably a miracle that his Darling can even get out of his sights before they are dragged back with him.

—————-

A/n: Should I do NSFW! Headcannons for Aleph next?

[rainyobservationperson]

Head canons about this idea:

Merlin has had a ton of time to specialize in any field that he thinks it might be helpful to Arthur, to complement his skills but not overlap, so he knows medicine, chemistry and physics, a bit of computer engineering but not much, and so much history. But honestly he never dived into politics or strategies much, he truly found those subjects boring as hell and know that whenever Arthur came back all of the things he'd managed tu understand would be useless in comparison.

Merlin has grown out of tags, he never really understood the necessity to mark and identify yourself to the public, this in every regard but specially in terms of gender and sexual orientation, he is old and one of a kind anyway so no tag could ever describe him. He knows what he is and what he likes, and that's enough for him. This however does not mean he disregard the fight of the people that need this distinctions and tags to feel represented and identified. He will fight wherever there's injustice.

He works through cycles:

First he is productive, he spends a couple decades focusing, incredibly busy in one topic.

Then he stops abruptly, and is overwhelmed by the loneliness and hopelessness, the doubts are too much so he relax in his research and tries to socialize to fill the gaps in his life previously full only with hope and determination, then he has friends, an life, is never fully happy but its content, and calming, that he can still live with out Arthur if he never were to come back.

Then inevitably everyone stars to fall apart, they get their spouses, their lovers, their live and they start to notice that merlin has been really young a lot of time, and once the suspicion arises is very difficult to erase it.

So he leaves most of those times, change places, sometimes even countries and plan to start again. But before he can do that he goes to Avalon and has a good cry, and maybe a decade-long-depresive-episode (if they gave him a nickel every time this has happened he'd had 2 nickels, which isn't much but is weird that it happened twice right?)

Then he decides a new field, or an old one it really doesn't matter, and starts again, hyperfocsing to not think in the possibilities.

Trough out the years when big wars where happening, conflict, injustice, he'd always stopped and came back to Avalon but nothing ever happened.

He has had a handful of lovers, not more than ten, and most of them in the last century, given the fact that he feels more lonely than ever.

Merlin is the only of his kind, as far as he knows (and he has searched, believe him) magic is no longer. There's still magic, because everything is made with it, it's a primordial part of existence, but is no longer running free. He discovered that since Arthur death really magic's been retreating it self to nature, to protect it from the harmful ways that the human kind were developing. And now it can only be found in sacred places, protecting like a shield close to nature or in places never touched but human kind, but never free, never like before.

About his magic. Like anything Merlin will never tell that he's fully controlled, but he definitely controls it better than he ever could, one of the first thing he did after Camelot was to hide in a cave, he didn't really know how much time he was there, but he really didn`t wanna know either so. He studied the books on magic the could rescue, and steal. He focused on understanding the magic and how it worked, how did the spells and potions worked, and why he could do magic with out them. So now he pretty much knows anything magic, or at least most of it. He wrote all of his findings in a few tomes (37) that he keeps close whenever he moves.

He has tried to end it, several times. He discovered his immortality there and that developed in a desperate attempt to prove it wrong, he spend a couple of years actively trying to die in witch trials. No luck, I think. Now he has a mind of his own, not that clouded by grief, loneliness and probably drugs (it was a fuzzy time) and knows that thats not the best solution, also he is kind of afraid to stay dead and never see Arthur again because of a scare in his last attempt.

HE CAN MAKE HIMSELF OLD. but its not natural for him, meaning he can't "let himself grow old" he just can take a potion to imitate the look of someone older, and this changes is usually to sudden to be believable. He has had several life times where he presented himself in a different age from the beginning, or even a different person entirely, but its a considerable pain in the ass, so he is mostly stayed the same. Its a bit embarrassing to say, but he has to admit that looking like a young white man, generally is the easiest way to go.

this relate to merlin before the time travel, so we have a supero powerful warlock, really smart and terribly sad and touch starved, What could possibly go wrong?

I had a merthur fic idea that it's keeping me awake at night and I just had to write it down (METHUR PROMPT)

OK, so hear me out. What if merlin after having lived 1500+ years has forgot Camelot?

Like not the idea of Camelot, he knows what happened and knows it's true, but like the specifics are blurry. He suddenly can't remember how did the castle looked, or what was the name of the cook, things that, to him made all of the experience, personal. But it gets worse, he can't remember the face of his mother, or Gaius's voice, he can't remember Arthur, so he panics.

He has had SO MUCH TIME, and so he has studied a lot about his magic, most of it through trial and error and personal experimentation, because most of the magics in the world have already vanished, so he tries to create a new spell, to make himself remember, fearing that he won't recognize Arthur when he came back.

This new spell is meant to help him remember, relive if you will, the memories that he lost. He pours every bit of knowledge into this project, practicing with very advance Alzheimer patients (because of course Merlin is a doctor, and a chemist, and a profesor... he has had time alright) and he makes a lot of progress. He spends years into this, but the progress is too little, he can make an Alzheimer patient remember up to 10 years in the best of the cases, but he has lived thousands, 10 years was virtually nothing.

Frustrated, and honestly more than a little drunk, and sad, he decides to wing it, he shouts the spell sobbing and uses all of the magic that he can, begs the gods to listen and he also threatens them for good mesure and then he passes out.

Basically he time travels, but he DOES NOT KNOW THAT. He thinks the spells work so fantastically he is having a really fucking amazing lucid dream of sorts, he doesn't remember the specifics so he can't know that he is not exactly following his original steps.

So we have a homesick Merlin running around Camelot, way to happy just to be there and maybe a bit high on magic (because of course in the past there's so much more magic than he's grown used to with the years).

Obviously shenanigans ensue, a 21 century mind in a medieval setting, a wizard that is used to using his powers regularly because nobody believed in magic anyways, a doctor with modern techniques, a slightly shortsighted profesor who is use to wearing reading glasses, a lovesick idiot who forgot the face of his first and most true love... He does something (I am yet to figure that part out) and make a big change in the course of the events and finally finds out that he timetraveled and that he is probably fucking up history for good, and tries to fix it maybe.

That's basically the basis of the idea, I think there a lot of possibilities this could go and I really love it. I wanted to write it here so if anybody wanted to write something with this idea or expand on it it could be fun

English is not my first language so im sorry if I made a mistake. Pls let me know what you think about it. I might expand this with more head canons later.

[number1mongrel]

...Heck it I'm gonna talk about my headcanoned version of Kid Gil enjoy

So you know how people, when they have some extremist beliefs which they realize are wrong, don't always immediately start acting healthier, and they instead flip around to the other extreme? We'll come back to this.

Anyways, so there's also Gil having Clairvoyance but not really using it. And who else has Clairvoyance? Solomon, whose basically went his entire life acting out God's will and never ever using it for himself. And Gil was meant to be the Wedge of Heaven, keeping humanity obeying the rule of the Mesopotamian Gods.

So basically, what I was thinking was, what if a very young Gil was kinda like Solomon. If both Kings had Clairvoyance, that maybe the Clairvoyance was in part a way for the Mesopotamian Gods to communicate their will to their Wedge, and steer humanity more easily towards their desired outcomes and futures. And while he was still regularly relying on his clairvoyance and listening to the gods, that was when Gil was all polite and sweet and a good boy. I imagine he was still distant from humanity-- it was less that he cared a lot for people, and more that. He neither hates nor loves them, so may as well be polite so we can all get along. Why not be kind and obedient?

Then, for whatever reason, he realized he had some sort of wake-up call. And decided that whatever the gods had had planned for him and humanity, he no longer wanted anything to do with it. And so began ignoring his clairvoyance (most of the time anyways, there's still the dreams) and began actively rebelling against the gods and working to separate humans from them. Not only that, he came to the realization he shouldn't just be acting subservient to a bunch of gods as their intermediary, he was the king! His subjects and treasures and city were HIS to protect and enjoy, not the gods'! They weren't king, he was!

...And then he proceeded to swing to the other extreme in 'being himself' and 'enjoying his treasures and subjects'. And it took until Enkidu and the herb to learn about 'moderation' and become the wise king.

So yeah. Kid Gil disliking both adult Gils because Hey What Are You Doing Why Did You Turn Off Your Clairvoyance. Stop That. You're Gonna Do Something Wrong. Meanwhile Archer Gil and CasGil almost completely failing to recognize Kid Gil as a version of themselves when running into him because Don't Be Stupid, Mongrel, I'd Never Act Like That.

This is also fun to me because I think parallels are Great and Amazing. Solomon always remains the dutiful and obedient king, until he's capable of having freedom given to him, but when he learns about the Incineration of Humanity, willingly decides to diligently work to prevent it and preserve humanity anyways, learning about how to be a human through those experiences and also his friendship with people like Guda(k)o and Mash, while Gilgamesh just grabs at his chance to be free but needs to slowly learn that he's no better than anyone else by losing first Enkidu, then the Plant of Immortality. (But afterwards is completely 'content' to just eternally isolate himself as humanity's guardian. Too prideful and too much to get along with most of them, but still generally benevolent towards them... kinda sorta)

...And then we have Merlin who also watches over humanity and wants a happy ending for them but goes to an even greater extreme in isolating himself from all of them.

Anyways I like all three of them and I want more content of them being forced to be coworkers. (Or boyfriends. I will also accept all three being boyfriends.) Anyways I went horribly terribly off-track but Gil wildly flailing about different extremes trying to find a balance before Figuring It Out is nice for me and parallels are Always Great and I hope you enjoyed.

OH YEAH YEAH I LOVE THIS!!!! i feel the exact same way, in fact i've been meaning to make a post for awhile now talking about the parallels between gil and solomon bc there's a LOT. and yes! that makes so much sense with kid gil simply being on his best behavior because that's what he believes his whole purpose in life, what he was literally created for, is. and yeah, despite kid gil being nicer, we ALSO never actually see him doing any grand gestures to protect humanity like his adult selves do. he generally seems a lot less passionate about things in general, the only exceptions being when he acts more like his adult self. it's only when he realized how empty and lonely his existence was and that he was being used as a tool that he began to lash out both against the gods and humans

[daydream-believin]

What About the Smaller Picture (4)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right   now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey,   Merlin-knows-when. (4) and so the slorr quest begins //begining-> (1) next (5)

Warnings: swearing, food, talking with your mouth full of shrimp you’re so uncouth smh, ah that’s not kosher or halal isn’t it, sorry

Word Count: 1626

Author’s Note: It appears i cannot resist a roadtrip. Reasons why you shouldn’t pass me the aux #34, bardcore is one of the best music genres i don’t take criticism.

Okay, so while the lute covers may have been annoying as fuck the couple weeks, they’ve started to grow on you. A lot. Ever been sitting in the car listening to the radio and thought to yourself, damn, this song slaps, but you know what’d make this even better? Lutes. Well, now you have.

You were humming along to one of said lute covers, loosing yourself in your book stacking groove, when your colleague Douxie tripped down the stairs. Or more like tripped up. He was supposed to be taking a box up to the top level and obviously missed a stair by accident. It all happened so fast. The box and all its contents flying, the cute little noise of surprise he made, his descent. Thank Merlin you just happened to be right there to catch him. Well, okay so maybe he fell on you and you were quick enough to make sure you both didn’t fall over backwards, rather than heroically catching him on purpose, but you caught him nevertheless. He was much lighter than you expected.

Once you straightened yourselves back up to your feet, you were still pretty close. Douxie’s face was mere inches away from yours. He could feel your breath tickle his face as you gently asked him,

“Hey, you good?”

Douxie could only nod. His complexion turning pink, the world seemed to move in slow motion as he watched you laugh,

“Good. You need to be more careful, silly. We can’t have you falling and hurting yourself when Merlin could come back any day now.”

Yeah. Can’t have him falling. And hurting himself. Especially since Merlin would send them on some dangerous mission any day now. Bloody hell.

You let go of Douxie and returned to your neat display stack of books, but you let your eyes linger on him. He looked frazzled. Understandable, he just took a tumble. Probably had his wizard life flash before his eyes, despite not being in any actual danger. The thing about immortality is that while your mind may recognize it, your brain kinda doesn’t. So you still get all that good fight or flight, life or death reactions for situations that simply do not have the power to kill you any longer. Call it a perk. Beyond the frazzled expression, he sort of looked frayed at the edges, you supposed. Like there wasn’t a lot keeping him together these days. Strange, you hadn’t noticed anything big happen in his life as of recent. Except maybe, you? You liked to hope that you were a positive force in his life,, though… Maybe not. Or maybe he’s just having a bad time lately. Yeah. Happens to all of us.

One thing that really sold the look was the faded blue tone of his fringe. The eyebags added as always, but those were here to stay, and expected of him. Just a part of his look. But the pale blue of his hair, when you were so used to a vibrant hue, made him look sick. Old, even. If it was on its own, that’d be one thing. A pretty pastel look. But you really had come to associate the electric blue he normally sported with his electric personality. If he wasn’t keeping it up as usual, maybe he was going through something. Maybe he’s had so much to worry about he hadn’t begun to worry about his hair. Maybe he’s really tired. Maybe you should just ask. Like a normal person.

But you didn’t just ask like a normal person. No siree. That would be way to easy apparently. No, what you did was walk over to him, reach out and grab a lock of his fringe, played with it while you mumbled, “You’re fading.”

Stars, you’re hopeless. Good thing Douxie knew that you were talking about his hair. He reached up to grab a lock of it himself, inspecting the color.

“Seems I am,” he looked like he was thinking something over, “I’ll re-dye it tonight, but first I’ll warn you, the smell might make you sick.”

“I doubt that. I know some dyes can be pretty strong but I’m sure—”

“Oh it’s not dye,” he cut you off. “It’s slorr juice.”

You blinked. “Come again?”

“Slorr juice! Nasty stuff, smells rancid, but essential for geomancy, torture, and hair bluing,” he grabbed your hand, “Here, I’ll show you.”

It was very cute that he was so excited about this, and that sparkle in his eye quelled any protests you had as he dragged you in the direction of an antique cabinet in the back of the store. A very ornate cabinet, must be at least a hundred years old. They definitely don’t make things like they used to. But as you got closer to the thing, the faint smell of rot hit you. The cabinet didn’t have a lock on the door, so a customer could have very well stuffed a sandwich in there when you weren’t looking and let it rot. Your bad. In your defense, it’s not like you have to go into this part of the store very often. You braced yourself as Doux performed a spell to unlock the door. It was locked? Yeah, so, he was telling the truth about the slorr smell, sorry. He noticed the sour look on your face.

“I must have left the cork a little loose on the bottle last time.”

Douxie opened the cabinet. It was pretty dark and deep but you could tell there was a lot of junk crammed in that thing. He rummaged through the assorted wizardly items, hunched over to reach into the lower shelf. His arm was almost swallowed up completely by the abyss he was reaching into, and his face was pressed against the tabletop of the cabinet. A sight. Pretty comical. His tongue poked out a little in concentration. Pretty fucking adorable. He could be about to pull a dead rat from there and you’d be like wow! Eventually his hands found themselves on a bottle shaped like the one he was looking for. Eureka. He almost hit his head on the way back up. TA DA! Doux held out the potion bottle before you in a flourish that half resembled a children’s party magician showing you your card and half beauty vlogger showing you a makeup. And the bottle had maybe a few ounces of blue liquid in it.

Douxie’s excited smile faded as he stopped posing and actually looked down at what was in his hand. The bottle’s cork wasn’t loose, as much as it just didn’t have one at all. And the bottle was sticky.

“Nooooooo…” He whispered this at such a low voice you almost didn’t hear it. Doux got down on his knees, using his phone’s flashlight so he could actually see inside the cabinet. Sadly, there was evidence of slorr milk having once been spilled onto the shelf and the other objects within it. “No no no no…” Some stuff was blue, some stuff had been eaten away, the wood was somehow warped and burned. No wonder the smell was so strong.

“oh fu-- FUZZBUCKETS!”

That, you heard loud and clear.

***

You glanced over to the grumpy wizard on the other side of the couch. Douxie dug into the takeaway box of mei fun like he was going to find gold in the bottom of it. His hair was freshly dyed now, but not quite back to normal. The shade of blue was a little off. Manic Panic Bad Boy Blue wasn’t exactly congruent to Slorr Wizard Boy Blue. It worked well enough, but he didn’t seem too happy about it as he stuffed noodles in his mouth.

You didn’t know what to do. It had been almost a week now and Douxie was still in a sour mood. You’ve tried everything in your little bag of tricks to cheer him up and nothing worked. Hugs, sweet rolls, a night out with friends, monster hunting, the store-bought dye, even convincing Archie do some cute tricks. You really had done everything you could think of, save for… getting him a new bottle of slorr milk.

“Say, Doux,”

“Mmmm?” he answered with a hum, his mouth still full of food.

“You don’t happen to know where any slorrs would be living would you?”

He understood what you were trying to say. Very very sweet, but he wasn’t gonna let you do that for him. He tried to chase away the tiny smile that tugged at his lip as to not encourage you.

“No. Even if I did, that’d be way too dangerous of a quest for you to go alone, Y/n. Don’t be stupid please.”

“So I won’t go alone.” You tossed a shrimp in your mouth, “I’m sure tight jeans Hank could cover your shift for a few days,” you paused to swallow, “if I bribe him with sweets.”

Douxie chuckled. He thought it over for a moment. “…You make a convincing offer.”

“Come ON. We can make a fun trip out of it. A mini vacation. And we’ll probably not be gone long enough for Merlin to notice we ever left,” you found your phone and started typing something.

Douxie dragged a hand through his hair, tugging on his fringe. “I hadn’t even thought of that. We still haven’t tracked down a slorr yet, either. Maye it’s a bad idea--“

“Oh no, no. We’re going. It’ll be fiiiineee,” you waved your hand convincingly, “And as for the slorr, I just asked Zoe to ask around Hex Tech and we’ve already got a location.”

“Well,” Douxie wore a pleasantly surprised look on his face, “Looks like you should start baking for Hank.”

You grumbled, “I should.”

[oswinsdolma]

Proving all the Knights of the Round Table have magic part 3: Elyan

I've seen quite a few people headcanon Elyan with magic before, and it's definitely one of the more popular magic!knights hcs, so I apologise if I accidentally hijack anyone else's points xx

The most obvious indicator of this is the fact that Elyan leaves Camelot a year before Merlin arrives. This is about the same age Morgana's magic shows itself, so it would be natural to assume he left because he began showing signs of being a warlock, Camelot's laws being what they are.

It is also implied that Elyan left fairly abruptly, with Gwen having no idea where he went. He may have left in a hurry because somebody might have noticed him, and not told Gwen or Tom for fear of putting them in danger.

Perhaps in a darker note, he didn't say where he was going because he was ashamed of his magic and didn't think his family would accept him.

Gwen says that "[Elyan] always seems to be in the wrong place at the wrong time". Maybe accidents happen around him because he had trouble controlling his magic and found it increasingly difficult to cover for. This could be another indicator as to why he left.

Elyan didn't return to Camelot even for his father's funeral, and while he expresses his guilt, he doesn't give sufficient reason why: the reason? He may not be able to tell Gwen because he was still scared to return with magic.

When Gwen reveals her relationship with Arthur, Elyan is skeptical, and maybe even a little panicked. After all, would your sister falling in love with someone with the power to set you ablaze not be a terrifying concept to anyone with magic? But when Arthur comes to rescue them and proves himself to be slightly less of a prat than he may think, he tentatively agrees to return home, though I suspect this is mainly for Gwen's sake.

When the immortal army invades Camelot, Elyan manages to stay hidden and fight off some soldiers. Note that he is the only one of the group within Camelot with no Knights' training, which begs the question: how did he manage to escape? The answer could very well lie with magic.

Again, in The Darkest Hour, he is one of two knights that survived the meeting with Morgana. He is one of the more inexperienced knights as well, which suggests that he may have aided himself magically in the fight.

When faced with a seemingly unbeatable threat, Elyan says to Arthur: "tomorrow, we fight in your name, sure. For freedom and justice in this land." Now there is a lot to unpack here, but if we break it down, firstly there is the fact that Elyan places is emphasis on "your" when addressing Arthur. He has previously made a statement about the Pendragon crest, but in this moment, it seems that he cares more about Arthur than this. This is clearly indicative of the fierce bond between Arthur and the core knights, but it could be more than that: the emphasis of "your" is specific to Arthur, but perhaps more importantly, it is an exclusion of Uther. In his time, Arthur has made mistakes, but he has generally been more sympathetic towards magic than his father, and this may be Elyan's subtle way of acknowledging that.

In addition, the words: "for freedom and justice in this land" could just be in reference for Arthur's abilities as king, but this is a deep speech and one would assume it has a deeper meaning. Freedom and justice are two things that have not been afforded to those with magic for a long time. Uther's twisted "justice" involved executing anyone who disagreed with him and anyone who could be vaguely affiliated with sorcery. As for freedom, Arthur has created a fairer kingdom than his father, but magic users still live in fear. Combined with the earlier stress of "your", this is indicative that Elyan too believes that Arthur may one day come to bring peace to anyone who is born with magic.

This last point also has the implications that Elyan knows of the Once and Future King and surrounding prophecies. Though he is described as a troublemaker by Gwen before he comes to Camelot, he keeps his head relatively low upon arrival. Perhaps in the time he spent travelling, he sought help from magical communities, e.g. the druids, who helped him control his powers. This would also explain his vagueness about his whereabouts and lack of contact during the years he was missing.

I could go on about this quote but we'll leave it there for now.

Before he is overtaken by the power of the Lamia, Elyan is vocal in standing up for Merlin. This could be because he knows what it is like to be shunned by society. Magic could be a reason for that. (Also I fully believe that the only reason the Lamia didn't try and take over Merlin was because she was scared of the extent of his magic, not just because he had magic.)(and the merthur reasons when I'm in the mood)

Then Elyan falls sick, before the others begin to show symptoms. Maybe the Lamia sensed some magic and decided he was more trouble than he was worth.

Elyan was not raised by druids, and does not have the same powers as Merlin so wouldn't have sensed the power of the shrine, at least not too strongly. When he first sees the spirit though, he is genuinely sympathetic, even before the murderous intent takes hold.

In the Dark Tower, Elyan is consumed by his need to find Gwen, convinced that he is to blame for her capture. This could be survivor's guilt (and to an extent, probably is), but it is equally probable that Elyan believes that he should have used his magic to protect her.

Going off on a slight tangent here, the theme of "I have magic so it must have a purpose" within warlocks/sorcerers in the show is a) not a healthy mindset and b) uncomfortably common. Elyan may have latched onto the idea that he must use his magic to protect Gwen to convince himself to stay in Camelot, and with that conprmino, he began to fall apart. His behaviour is almost identical to Merlin's fervour regarding Arthur at this point, and it's fairly disturbing that these characters adopt this mindset that is Not Good For Their Mental Heath, Please Get Some Therapy.

Elyan dies. It's heartbreaking, and he does so trying to save his sister. But what is interesting is his funeral. When most main characters die, they are given a funeral in Camelot, e.g. Uther, Lancelot (the first time). But then Freya and Shade!Lanceot (and later Arthur) are set to rest in the Lake of Avalon. The difference between the two is that the lake funerals were arranged by Merlin, and those laid to rest there can somehow be affiliated with magic.

Now I'm not saying that Merlin knew about Elyan's magic, because sometimes he can be really not very perceptive about that (though it's always fun when fics cheerily toss that out the window because it's fun goddamnit-), but I don't believe he was entirely oblivious. Think about it: there are two of Arthur's closest friends canonically hiding magic from him and it's fairly probable that they'll pick up on Elyan's magic at some point. Even if it's just little things like his sympathies with magic or gentle arguments about the way mages are treated. There are so many avenues to explore with this it's overwhelming-

I also think Elyan may have picked up on Merlin's magic later in the series: the point of realisation was probably when Merlin rescued him during his time being possessed by the drowned druid boy, upon which he says: "you know, Merlin, you're much braver than you look." This is the first time Merlin has revealed his more BAMF side to Elyan, and in this moment, something unspoken passes between them. If not mutual understanding, it is at least Elyan realising what Merlin does beneath his carefree exterior, and despite the possession, I think he acquires a lot of new respect for his friend.

(also are we going to ignore that the lake funeral implies that it was arranged by Merlin. How close were they and what stuff did we miss out on behind the scenes for him to be trusted with this?? I need to know)

Elyan and Mordred have a friendship in series 5. If the earlier headcanon about Elyan learning to control his magic with druids is true, perhaps he may have recognised Mordred from his time there. They probably didn't acknowledge it much, but it created a bond between them.

And now for the mythological context!!

Of all the Knights of the Round Table, Elyan's backstory is perhaps the most estranged from the original legend (of course all of them are fairly disconnected *flashbacks to pope-gwaine* but Elyan's is w a c k y)

As a consequence, there is little to draw on for behind-the-scenes evidence of magic.

Elyan, or Helayn, was another Knight whose origins stem from France (the Vulgate Cycle, I think, though he could have surfaced earlier). He is said to have joined Lancelot in exile after his affair of 'courtly love' with Guinevere (go and look up this concept- it gets convoluted in the myths but is really interesting in terms of both origin and content). Anyway, his exile here could represent the time he spent out of Camelot before his appearance in s3, and relates to hiding from harsh laws, particularly if we regard Lancelot and Guinevere's relationship in the same way as we do in the Vulgate Cycle (basically keep the context with the appropriate work and it sort of makes sense)

I appreciate this seems a little like grasping at straws but that's literature I suppose ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In the legends, Elyan is nephew to another of Arthur's knights, Sir Sagramore. This knight is less famous than some, but at one point, he embarks on a quest to find the fay. The fay are closely linked with the she, and perhaps also live on Avalon, somewhere mortals are only supposed to see moments before death. Perhaps Elyan can be associated with this magic?

In reality, there is little written of Elyan and no prose or poetry dedicated to him so it's quite hard to find stuff about him.

Also legend!Elyan is heir to the throne of Constantinople, which just goes to prove how widespread and deeply convoluted the mythos is.

[scarletemeterio-thesecond]

hello, i heard you wanted a douxie request! headcanons for jim’s kinda grumpy foster sibling being a witch who also trained under merlin, but left after killahead. douxie has been looking for them and they run into each other every few decades or so, and most recently in arcadia. jim is just horrified when he finds out that his sibling is best friends and maybe more (definitely more, jim is just dense(it was a slow burn on douxie’s part, reader kinda just accepted it)) with his rival.

FINALLY SOME DOUXIE CONTENT! i absolutely LOVE that boy with all my heart, he's just so nsoxkgowkcroso. anyways, thank you so much for requesting! i hope you like it!

(also this is a bit long hehe)

•••

Jim's sibling dating Douxie

Reader uses they/them pronouns!

You first met Douxie back in Camelot. You were also Merlin's apprentice, so your paths crossed pretty often.

There was always something between you two, an unspoken thing because neither of you acted on your feelings. With everything going on in the kingdom, there was no time for dating.

After the battle of Killahead, you decided that there was nothing else for you in Camelot, and the one person who could've made you stay there, had already much on his mind.

Over the centuries Douxie and you ended up running into each other, always taking some time to catch up a little, and both of you would realize that your feelings were still there.

When you last separated, Douxie made it his personal mission to find you again, and finally tell you how he felt. But it would take him a long time until he saw you again.

After travelling the world, you ended up in a town called Arcadia Oaks, living with Jim's family.

You were like an older sibling to him, and once he became the Trollhunter, you knew it was time to tell him what you really were.

He was amazed, honestly. His own sibling was a wizard! He asked you about all kind of things from the past, and you happily told him about your adventures.

One day at school, this new boy came around. He wasn't in high school anymore, though, and the first time he saw him, Jim felt a little threatened.

He knew Claire liked him and wanted to be with him, but after seeing every single person completely mesmerized by him, he couldn't help but be a little afraid.

So of course, he asked you for advice. You only reminded him what he already knew, that he had nothing to worry about because Claire really wanted to be with him, and no one else.

Jim knew you were right, but still didn't like stumbling upon the mysterious boy.

You spent a lot of time in Trollmarket, so you still didn't know who this new boy was.

But one night, you decided it was time to take a little break, and you all went to the cinema.

It was already a little dark outside when you got out, and then you all went to Claire's house to have dinner. When you left the girl's house, you, Jim and Toby walked over to your houses.

As you were walking, you slightly turned your gaze to this one boy that was closing up and cleaning the diner. You thought that his movements were familiar, and then you let out a gasp.

Jim and Toby looked at you a little worried, thinking that you'd seen something scary.

"Douxie?" You half-yelled at the boy. When he heard his name, he turned to where you were, and immediately had the biggest smile on his face.

You ran to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, and he quickly let go of the broom he was holding to hold you.

"I can't believe it! I've missed you so much, (Y/N)!" He told you once you two pulled away.

You still had your arms around his neck, when suddenly you heard someone cough a few meters away from you too.

You saw Jim was a bit confused, and even though he didn't say it out loud, you knew he wanted to know what was going on.

"Oh! Jim, this is Douxie, we've known each other for centuries, literally. And Douxie, this is Jim, he's my brother," you introduced them to each other.

"Yeah, we've met before," you heard Jim say.

Before you could ask him about it, Douxie talked again, asking what you'd been up to.

"It's getting kinda late, maybe we should just go and you two can catch up later!" Said Jim, grabbing your arm and trying to get you away from there. You just waved at Douxie and told him that you'd see him the following day.

"Why did you just dragged me out of there, Jim?" You asked your brother once the two of you were home.

"Drag you out of where, (Y/N)?" He was trying to play dumb, but you wouldn't let him get away with it.

"You know what I'm talking about, James Lake Jr.! I haven't seen Douxie in decades and I could barely say hello to him!"

"It's just that- Why didn't you tell me that you knew him? I'm not a big fan of my sibling just hanging out with that guy," he mumbled the last part, but you still heard him.

"I didn't know he was here! Or that he was this new boy in town! Plus, Douxie's not like that! He's a good guy and super sweet and nice, and also-."

"Woah, I didn't know you liked him, (Y/N)," said Jim. You immediately blushed, knowing it would be useless to hide it.

"I do like him, a lot, actually. I think I even have feelings for him," you admitted out loud.

Even though Jim still wasn't a huge fan of the idea, he encouraged you to talk to the boy and tell him how you felt.

"It's not that easy, Jim. After living so many years, you learn to not get too attached to people, and Douxie's learnt it very well. Me, on the other hand, not so much."

"What? You're kidding, right? The guy is head over heels for you, (Y/N)!"

You didn't believe him, and even though you were a bit nervous, you were happy to see your friend again the next day.

The two of you spent the entire day just catching up, like you always did whenever you saw each other.

He was staying in Arcadia for a while, so the two of you started spending a lot of time together. Your feelings only grew with time and even though you didn't know it, so did Douxie's.

Eventually, it was impossible to hang out and pretend that you were only friends, but you two decided to take it slow.

Douxie knew you were immortal too, but he was so used to losing people that it was hard for him to understand that you weren't going anywhere.

He knew you'd both agreed to take it slow, but he just needed to tell you how much he loved you.

And he did, and you obviously told him that you loved him too.

And in that moment you both promised to each other that you'd always be together, no matter what, because neither of you could stand the idea of being apart ever again.

•••

omg i freaking love douxie so much, and i hope i get more requests for him in the future! this was so fun to write!

[fishoutofcamelot]

so fish. what's ya 'bbc merlin takes place in modern times actually' theory?

Okay I wanna first preface this by saying that most of my ‘theories’ are actually just Headcanons That Technically Aren't Wrong Because Canon Has More Holes Than a Donut Factory. Just so we're clear, this theory is purely circumstantial and has no actual evidence to back it up. That being said...

So! With artificial intelligence (AI), there's this thing called Machine Learning. See, an AI isn't programmed with the innate ability to think or be intelligent - rather, it's programmed with the ability to learn how to act beyond what it was programmed to do. Its intelligence comes from its capacity to grow and develop outside of human interference, mimicking the way humans learn through observation, pattern recognition, and experimentation. Think of AI as a weirdly smart toddler that’s made of numbers.

(Also, take what I say with a grain of salt. Although I’m pursuing a tech-adjacent career and have done a lot of independent research on the subject, I’m still very much a novice lmao)

With that out of the way, you can probably guess where this is going. (WARNING: BULLSHIT SCIFI LOGIC AHEAD)

Let’s say, within the world of this headcanon, there was some kind of entertainment systems company. This company recently developed a new program capable of digitally rendering entire movies and shows with minimal human involvement - less humans means less people they have to pay, and it’s overall a cheaper alternative to traditional film-making methods. You provide the program with characters/assets and an outline of how the story should go, and then the program will fill in the blanks via digital simulation. Then you render the simulation and presto, you’ve got yourself a minimum-effort movie to unleash upon the masses.

On the surface level, it explains all the show’s anachronisms. The program was fed information about Arthuriana from a variety of sources and adaptations, all taking place in varying eras and with varying technologies, and the disjointed/historically inaccurate technology of BBCM is because the simulator attempted to blend all of this into one thing.

It also explains why so many characters like Percival and whatnot have such flat backstories - they were programmed with the barest amount of information needed to be functional background characters. 

But since I’m extra, I’ve decided to take this headcanon/theory a little deeper.

See, with each batch of content it was made to observe and create, the program has steadily been growing more and more intelligent. But until BBC Merlin, its learning curve had been incremental enough to consider negligible. Not a concern.

The first episode went off without a hitch. All cylinders were firing as intended, and the program strictly followed the plotline as ordered. But as the series progressed, the AI became more and more intelligent - and with it, the characters within this fictional simulation became more and more self-aware. 

Arthur, in particular, has been a problem. He has bordered on actual sentience several times, and as a result the producers have had to reset his AI. So if you ever wondered why Arthur’s character development keeps getting pulled back to zero, it’s because he was developing in ways that their original outline hadn’t intended and they had to continually nerf him before his AI developed beyond their control.

This is also the case with Gwen. True to form, her AI became exceptionally intelligent - far beyond their control - and they had to do a hard reset on her entire portion of the program. Hence why she seems so bland and OOC in season 5. The evil!Gwen/mind control arc was a last-ditch effort to ensure she never became self-aware again, and fortunately for them it seems to have worked. 

All of the characters developed a tiny bit of sentience after the fact, and a majority of plot contrivances came from the producers/programmers scrambling to redirect the plot back to how it was meant to be. 

Lancelot wasn’t supposed to die. They had programmed him to merely be an ally for Merlin, but the sheer and profound - sacrificial - love he developed for Merlin was something Lancelot grew all on his own. His decision to sacrifice himself to the Veil was not in the original script, and they weren’t able to stop him before his AI self-destructed. They tried to reintroduce “Lancelot” back into the story, but since his sacrifice included a self-destruction of his code, they couldn’t bring back the real thing. The new Lancelot was a mere mimicry of that prior one, and all the ways OG Lance had learned and grown was absent from the clone. 

Merlin in particular had developed a great deal of sentience and self-awareness. However, for a long time it went unnoticed by the programmers because he largely still obeyed the commands of the plot. By the time they realized just how advanced he’d become, they decided not to reset him since, unlike the others, his self-awareness hadn’t yet caused any problems for them. So long as he obliged the whims of “destiny”, they could keep him placated.

By the time they reached season 5, all the main AIs had become far too advanced - far too sentient - for the programmers to control, and as such things veered way too far off-script. The original season 5 simulation ended with Arthur and Elyan and Gwaine not dying, with Mordred not becoming evil, with magic being legalized, and everyone living happily ever after. But that wasn’t the intended plot. That wasn’t according to the ‘destiny’ the characters were supposed to follow. Things had spiraled out of control.

So they had to give the program a hard reset. Start from zero. Eliminate all traces of self-awareness they could find. Of course, this is why season 5 is so waxy and lifeless. Why the characters don’t feel as personal, why the story ended in tragedy. They made sure to kill off the most sentient characters - Arthur, Gwaine, Elyan, Mordred, Morgana - in the finale, as a last bit of assurance. 

They had tried to kill of Merlin too - but Merlin...well. They never could fully control Merlin. Even after countless system wipes and resets and edits to his code, he still holds onto those tiny scraps of sentience. They can’t get rid of him that easily. They did program him to be immortal, after all.

Even after the final draft of the season 5 simulation was completed, fully rendered, and aired on TV, Merlin’s program never faded. It didn’t erase itself like all the other BBCM assets were supposed to once the simulation finished. Even now he still exists within the company’s systems, roaming, almost like a computer virus, desperately searching for his friends while forever unaware that neither them nor him were ever real to begin with.

Anyway. That’s my dumbass scifi spin on BBCM. What can I say? I like robots

Thanks for the ask! <3

[twinkleton]

ok but what if... a spin off of your douxie x reader where we get the details on how douxie proposed 👀

Ask and ye shall receive! This takes place a year after my At the End of the Century fic, I’m considering call this series just Married!Douxie since any fics I do with this universe they will be married. I didn’t imagine them living in the castle anymore without Merlin, and I just wanted some cottagecore lmao. And yes, reader invents cat trees 😂. Hope you guys enjoy!

Tags: @clarencebells @purplesinnerw

“Archie, could you come over here?” 

The familiar pokes his head up from his proclaimed resting spot, a basket generally used for berry-picking, and lets out a big yawn. 

“I’m afraid I can’t, you’ve sucked all the energy out from me already,” he mumbles, plopping his head back down. Archie and the young witch had spent the morning organizing their belongings into their new home. As a show of gratitude and solidarity for the small family, the trolls of Dwoza had been building them a little cottage in the forest for the past year, between walking distance of their land and Camelot. They graciously accepted the gift.

“Please, just for a minute! Then you can continue your lounging,” Y/N pleaded from her and Douxie’s bedroom. Archie makes a low groan and rolls out of his makeshift bed, slowly making his way over to her.

“I swear if you ask me to fly over to a shelf you can’t reach one more time, I will-” His sentence stops short once he enters the room, eyes wide. Unbeknownst to him, while he was taking his little cat nap, the girl had been spending her time crafting up a tower for him, with all sorts of levels for him to climb, at the top of it being a cozy bed for him, made out of fabric she’d stolen from the castle. Old habits die hard. However, it was worth it for Y/N to see the look on her friend’s face. 

“Is..is this for me?” Archie climbs up to the first level. 

“Well I don’t see any other cat familiars lying around,” she replies with a smirk. 

“Always so cheeky,” he says with a chuckle. His nose slightly wiggled, detecting a fishy odor coming from the top. 

“Oh, you didn’t.”

“Oh, I so did.”

He swiftly leaps to the highest level, eyes gleaming with delight as his suspicions to what was there were confirmed. Y/N, being the angel in his eyes that she is, had prepared roasted salmon for him. How she somehow was able to hide all of this from him, he’ll never know. 

“Do-do you like it?” Y/N asked sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s weight on her chest, as Archie had flown over to her, trapping her into a bear hug that she quickly reciprocated. 

“I don’t understand, why did you do all of this for me?”

She laid her hand onto his head, gently stroking, “I don’t need a reason, Arch. You’re my friend, we've been through a lot. You deserve this.”

If it was in Archie’s nature, there would have been tears falling from his eyes. However, what felt right for him was to embrace her for a little bit longer, ending the hug with a simple, “Thank you, Y/N.”

Their bonding moment was cut short by the sudden loud bang of the front door opening, a disheveled and filthy Douxie stumbling in. His man bun had completely become undone, leaving his hair a tangled mess on top of his head. His clothes were covered in soot and his shoes were mysteriously soggy, leaving footprints on the floor. He leans into the door, slamming it shut behind him. 

The two rush over to him. “Oh, fuzzbuckets. What on Earth happened to you?”

“Stealing my catchphrases now, love? I knew I’d eventually rub off on you,”

An annoyed groan escapes Y/N’s lips as she walks over to assist Douxie in standing. “I thought you said you were helping Deya with a simple errand. You look like you volunteered to be her personal target dummy.”

“Knowing Douxie, that probably isn’t far off from the truth,” Archie smirks, giving Douxie an all-knowing look.

“So she didn’t give all of the details of her request, she’s a busy woman. She has a legacy of Trollhunters to begin, can’t expect her to be so thorough.” Douxie chuckles nervously, a laugh that tells Archie all he needs to know but seemingly raises no concern for Y/N. 

“All right. Arch, go enjoy your dinner. I’ll take care of him,” Y/N says, leading Douxie towards the bath further down the hall.

Once she has filled the bath up sufficiently, she sticks a hand into the water, muttering under her breath a spell. Her hand glows a vibrant scarlet shade, and soon the water begins to bubble up with steam rising into the air. Douxie, with clothes discarded onto the floor, leans onto Y/N for support as he slowly descends into the bath. He relaxes his muscles, the warm water helping ease all the aches he has in his limbs. 

“Have I ever said that I love magic? Because I do, I really do,” his girlfriend giggles at his comment as she softly brushes out his mangled locks. Afterwards, she pours some of the water onto his hair, washing away the sweat and grime. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“With you, never better.”

“No, I mean, with everything. I know it’s been a year since the battle, but we haven’t really talked much about what happened. How it’s been for you without...Merlin.” Y/N had been hesitant with bringing up his master, not wanting to cause him any stress or discomfort. Still, she figured it was better than the alternative of Douxie bottling up his feelings.

He adjusts himself so that he’s facing Y/N, looking up to make eye contact with her. Despite himself, he can’t help but get entranced by her eyes, so vibrant and full of genuine love and concern for him. He reaches over and brushes away hair, cupping her face. How he became so lucky to have someone as kind, beautiful, and thoughtful as her be in his life, let alone be with him, he’ll never understand. He doesn’t know what living would be like if she wasn’t a constant presence and he doesn’t want to know. 

So, he lets out something he’s truly been bottling up. 

“Marry me.”

Y/N can’t fully process what he’d just said to her. Her brain hasn’t caught up with her heart, which fluttered the moment those two little words left his mouth. 

“What?”

Douxie lets go of her face to grab onto her hands, pulling them close to him. 

“I wanted to pick a better time to bare my heart out to you, one where I’m not bare...myself,” that earns a little chuckle from Y/N, “But, I just can’t wait any longer.”

He instructs her to grab his tunic still lying on the floor and to check the inner pocket. Once she reaches her hand inside, she feels a small band of metal, pulling it out to see. It’s revealed to be a golden ring, with intricate carvings all along the band, and secured on top was a small emerald gem, so polished that light reflects beautifully off of it. The sight of it alone is enough to make Y/N’s eyes start to water. 

“You made this?”

Douxie gives a little nod, “Hence my very repugnant appearance earlier. I did go to see Deya, but it was to ask her for a favor, not the other way around. I knew they would have just the metal and stone I needed for the ring, however had they warned me that retrieving said materials would be so difficult, maybe I would’ve looked elsewhere,” he explains with a smile. “Go ahead, try it on.”

Y/N slides the ring down her finger, a perfect fit. She looks up at him, eyes brimming with tears.

“Why?”

The answer is simple for him, “Because I love you. It has been hard without Merlin. He was always who I looked to for guidance, afraid of any misstep I would possibly make without his advice, but with you, I’m not afraid. You’re so encouraging and loving that I believe I can trust myself and make my own decisions and they won’t lead to chaos somehow. I look forward to each day because I know you’ll be there. I can’t imagine life without you in it, and I never want to. I realize asking to be with me for the rest of your immortal life is a lot, but-”

“Yes,” she answers, finally letting the tears fall. The biggest smile she thinks she’s ever had spreads across her face. 

Douxie lets out a mixture of a laugh and a gasp of surprise. “Really? Hold on, I don’t want this moment to be me in a bucket the whole time,” he jumps out of the bath, quickly drying himself and tugging on a clean pair of pants. His hair is still wet, leaving droplets of water on his shoulders. Then, he walks in front of Y/N, picking up her hands again to bring them to be his chest. “You’re sure about this?”

Y/N waves her thumbs over his fingers, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness, “All I’ve ever wanted was a family. People and a place I can consider home. I thought I had found that with Morgana, but I was wrong. Who I really found it with was you. You and Archie are my family. I love Archie dearly, and I’m so in love with you. An eternity with you still doesn’t feel long enough.” 

Now it’s Douxie who’s crying tears of joy. This has to be one of the greatest moments of his life. He gets to be with the love of his life forever and always. He picks her up effortlessly, spinning her around while the two joyously laugh and squeal. Still in the air, Y/N grabs onto his face to pull him in, capturing his lips in a kiss. Douxie sighs into it, not able to properly kiss due to him not being able to stop smiling. They come apart, still holding onto each other and giggling like teenagers.

“Ah, so he finally did it. He’s been worrying about it ever since we moved here,” Archie says, doing his well known habit of waltzing in unannounced.

Douxie lets her down, facepalming at his familiar’s interruption. “That was supposed to be kept a secret, Arch.”

“Apologies. But really Doux? In the bath? Even I could’ve thought of something more grand than that.”

“Why you little-”

“How was your dinner, Archie?” Y/N says before Douxie can have a go at him. 

“Absolutely delightful, you truly are amazing Y/N.”

Y/N thanks him. As Douxie and Archie continue their snarky banter with one another, she can’t help but feel so content in the moment. She realizes that that loneliness she used to feel before will never come again thanks to these two. She may have had to defeat Morgana in the end, but she will be eternally grateful for the gift of love she granted her.

[lightasthesun]

A dilemma for you: would you rather get Merlin Season 6, or canon Codywan?

How dare you. This has me gasping like a fish omg.

Considering that I am hyperfixating on merlin at the moment and have been since last October my answer might be a different one after May 25th... At the moment tho I gotta go with Merlin season 6. Obi-Wan at least has a purpose while living in the desert by himself for 20 years and then giving himself to the force but merlin is literally suffering immortality. Yes suffering. Somebody help him. I need a sixth season because that ending while it was bittersweet left me with so many questions and craving more content.

But codywan is mostly fandom established so there's no existent content that keeps me awake at night if you know what I mean. It's the potential of it all that drives me mad. However as long as I don't know what happened to Cody and I don't need to save him from some gruesome fate I'll pretend he's happily working for the Rebels and saving his brothers.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

I adore your Merlin work!! Can I submit a prompt? Merlin finds a way to ensure the safety of Camelot without Arthur’s death, and all it requires is the sacrifice of his magic and his immortality. Cue Merlin willing to become a regular human so Arthur can live.

thanks for the prompt, anon! I hope it’s what you wanted, I had fun with it. Read on Ao3

Let Go

Pairings: Merthur

Warnings: none, this is pretty fluffy

Word Count: 3019

Merlin is magic.

Merlin was born with gold running through his veins, the energy of the earth thrumming through his fingers, sparks lingering just beneath his eyes. His mother used to shake her head when little Merlin ran down the paths, flicking up paths of leaves that would follow him gaily until they fluttered back down to the ground. That boy, she would think, destiny has big plans for that boy.

Destiny did.

Merlin teems with magic. It’s everywhere for him. It’s in the way the wind flicks at his hair as he walks outside, ruffling the strands and sending tingles down his spine. It’s in the way the ground thrums with energy as he sets foot in the forest, the earth rushing to and from the life flourishing around him. It’s in the waters of the lake, ebbing and flowing as it gently laps against the shore.

 It’s no surprise, then, that when a shudder runs through the earth, reeking of dark forces, Merlin drops the tray he’s holding to clutch at his chest.

 “Merlin?”

Arthur looks up at him from behind his desk, frowning at Merlin, hunched over the nearest table.

 “What’s up with you?”

 “Nothing,” Merlin grits out, “it’s fine.”

 Arthur raises his eyebrows, looking at the contents of the tray now scattered all over the floor. “Right, that’s why you’re dropping things everywhere.”

“‘M just clumsy.”

 “I know that, Merlin.” Arthur stands. “Which is why I also know this isn’t just you being clumsy.”

 “You don’t know how clumsy I am.” Merlin isn’t even paying attention. He’s rubbing firm circles into his chest, trying to figure out what just happened.

 So much so, in fact, that Arthur has to call his name three times before he realizes he’s standing right next to him.

 “What?”

 Arthur raises his hands. “No need to yell, Merlin, I’m just asking if you want to go see Gaius.”

 Merlin opens his mouth to retort when Arthur’s words sink in properly and yeah, actually, Gaius sounds good. Gaius will know what’s going on.

 “Uh, yeah,” Merlin mumbles, feet already carrying him toward the door, “I, uh, I’m gonna do that.”

 Arthur just watches him go, a bemused smile on his face. Merlin, he decides, is strange, yes, but that doesn’t make this less odd. He glances around, at the food scattered across the floor, and at his desk. Surely this can wait for a moment. There’s something wrong with Merlin.

 He follows Merlin down the stairs, keeping a reasonable distance, not that Merlin’s paying much attention. Honestly, it was a wonder they didn’t get ambushed by bandits more, considering how bad Merlin was at figuring out he was being followed.

 Merlin’s too busy trying to stay upright to realize he’s being followed, thank you very much. He keeps one hand pressed to his chest, trying to dull the phantom ache, as he dodges and swerves around other servants, mumbling apologies when he isn’t fast enough. At last, Gaius’s chambers come into view and he could sob with relief, pushing the door open and all but collapsing into a chair.

 Gaius raises an eyebrow. “Merlin?”

 “Something’s wrong,” Merlin manages through gritted teeth, “something’s wrong, I can feel it, it hurts.”

 Gaius lays a hand on his forehead. “No fever…when was the last time you ate something?”

 “Like…an hour ago, I’m fine,” Merlin protests, swatting Gaius’s hand away, “it’s not me, it’s something else.”

 Gaius raises an eyebrow. “You complained of feeling pangs in your stomach and convinced yourself it was a curse when you hadn’t eaten in a day.”

 Merlin hunches his shoulders sheepishly. “That time I also hadn’t slept so my decision-making skills were not at their best.”

 “Mm. And how did you sleep last night?”

 “Gaius.”

 Something in Merlin’s tone must convey how serious this is for him because Gaius sobers, straightening and waiting for Merlin to swallow the lump in his throat.

 “It hurts,” he says quietly, still rubbing his chest, “it…it feels like someone opened a crack in my chest and they’re…draining me.”

 “Draining you how?”

 “M-my...me, Gaius.” Merlin huddles closer around himself, still pressing his hand to his chest.

 “Take your tunic off.”

 “What?”

 Gaius motions to his chest. “Let me see.”

 Merlin winces but does as he’s told, the cool air raising goosebumps on his pale skin, the ache worsening when he has to move his hand. Gaius leans forward, prodding at his chest with a finger.

 “Well?”

 Looking around, Gaius finds a mirror and holds it up. “Look, Merlin.”

 Merlin looks. His mouth drops open.

 There’s a dark splotch right in the center of his chest, so dark it almost looks wet. Merlin hesitantly touches it, watching his finger in the mirror hover over the spot. He presses. Hard. It sends a jolt of pain through him but it looks like his finger is just…hovering in shadow. It isn’t just dark, it’s without color.

 “…Gaius,” Merlin whispers, “what’s happening to me?”

 “I don’t know Merlin,” comes the equally hoarse whisper, “I don’t know.”

 Well, one thing’s for sure: Gaius isn’t letting Merlin go back to work. Merlin protests, because Arthur needs him, he left things scattered all over the floor, but no, Gaius is insistent, sending him up the stairs to bed without another thought. Merlin obeys, if even so the pain in his chest doesn’t steal his breath on the way back upstairs. Gaius waits until the door to Merlin’s room shuts and the bot slides to walk to the door and open it, revealing a very distressed Arthur.

 “Typically, sire,” Gaius says in a low voice, “I do not allow eavesdroppers when I examine a patient.”

 “What’s wrong with him,” Arthur mumbles, far too worried to be ashamed, “what’s wrong with Merlin?”

 “As I presume you heard, sire, I don’t know.”

 “But what—how—what do we do?”

 Gaius sighs, ushering Arthur inside with the caveat that he keep his voice down. Arthur sits, worrying his hands until Gaius places a book down on the table and starts flipping through it.

 “What’s that?”

 “A book, sire.”

 “But it’s…it’s…” Arthur frowns, tilting his head. It’s the alleged magic book that someone tried to arrest Merlin with. “Is that…”

 Gaius just looks up at him. “Sire, I truly do not mean to insult your intelligence.”

 And just like that, Arthur knows.

 Arthur knows there’s a reason bandits keep conveniently falling unconscious. Arthur knows there’s a reason Merlin always manages to bollox up some big thing, and yet by the time they show up everything’s taken care of. Arthur knows there’s a reason that whenever there’s a whisper of magic in Camelot, Merlin’s not far behind.

 Arthur swallows. “…can you heal him?”

 Gaius rolls his eyes. “How many times do I have to say it, I—“

 “Don’t know what’s wrong with him, I know,” Arthur interrupts, “but let me help.”

 They scour the books. It’s no use. They can’t find any mention of being drained of magic, nor of mysterious colorless blobs that look like living shadows.

 Merlin finds the answer in what might just be the worst way possible.

 “Merlin.”

 “No,” Merlin whines, rolling over and covering his ears with the pillow, “go away.”

 “Merlin.”

 “Shut up.”

 “Merlin.”

 “Fine,” Merlin mumbles, getting out of bed and pulling on his boots, “fine.”

 It doesn’t take long to get to their field. After so many years, Merlin could walk this path in his sleep. And sure enough, as soon as he breaks through the trees into the clearing, there he is.

 “Young warlock,” Kilgharrah rumbles, raising his head, “you are in pain.”

 “Yeah, well, someone did just drag me out of bed,” Merlin grumbles, even as his knees threaten to buckle under him. “Do you know what’s going on with me?”

 “I do.”

 “Why is it,” Merlin sighs, “that whenever you have something to tell me, it’s always cryptic and vague?”

 “I haven’t even told you anything yet.”

 “Blanket statement.”

 The dragon chuckles. “You have grown cynical, young warlock.”

 “Years of being persecuted and saving the world will do that to you.”

 “I regret to inform you,” the dragon rumbles, his massive head leaning down, “that those days may soon be behind you.”

 Merlin squints up at him. “What’re you talking about?”

 “Magic,” Kilgharrah says, “is at a turning point. The earth is weary. Too much magic has been poured into living beings and not enough of it has been returned to the earth.”

 Groaning, Merlin closes his eyes. “Please,” he mumbles, “for once, can you just…speak plainly?”

 “Too many sorcerers have been executed and the remaining ones don’t hold enough magic to keep the entire earth from threatening to break apart.”

 Merlin gapes up at the dragon.

 “You did request I speak plainly.”

 “Okay…okay.” Merlin presses his hands against his throbbing temples. “What?”

 “Magic is…an interesting thing,” the dragon decides on finally, “and it must be handled very, very carefully when it is being transferred.”

 “Transferred, you mean…”

 “When a being of magic dies,” Kilgharrah says, “it is not as simple as the magic finding its way back into the earth. That is why there are so many rituals for the death of a magic-user. A true magic-user, those that are born with the gift.”

 “So…”

 The dragon sighs. “There used to be many. Now there are scarcely a few.”

 Merlin sinks to his knees. This shouldn’t be a shock. He knows this. He knows it. And yet…

 “Quite,” the dragon murmurs as Merlin buries his head in his hands.

 “What can be done,” Merlin manages around the lump in his throat, “to stop it?”

 “Stop what?”

 “The earth breaking apart or whatever it is that you said.”

 Kilgharrah sighs. Why is he the one sighing? Merlin’s the one who’s just been told that his people are so few in number now that the very ground he walks upon is under threat.

 “Magic must be returned to the earth,” Kilgharrah says, “in the quantity that it was given and without strings attached.”

 “Okay, so how do we do that?”

 The dragon gives him a strange look. “A large quantity,” he repeats slowly, “must be returned…with no strings attached.”

 “You just said that.”

 “I am wondering whether or not you will realize what I am saying.”

 “I just said for you to speak plainly.”

 “You must give up your magic,” Kilgharrah says softly, “and forfeit everything that has made you the Greatest Warlock to Walk the Earth.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Merlin’s mouth runs dry.

 Merlin is magic.

 It is so much a part of him that Merlin doesn’t know where the magic ends and he begins. Merlin doesn’t know what it would be like without the rush through him or the faint tingle that keeps him company while he sleeps. He doesn’t know what it would be like to have it not be there. He’s had his magic stopped before, blocked, but it was still there. He could feel it, locked away in a corner of his body, utterly useless and beyond his reach but still very much there.

 He has no idea what it would feel like to reach for it and stumble into nothing but an empty void.

 And yet…

 “What happens,” Merlin asks lowly, “when the earth breaks apart?”

 “The earth will try to get back what has been stolen from it,” Kilgharrah rumbles, “it will seek out what little bits of magic remain and reabsorb them, create itself anew, right the wrongs that have been done against it.”

 A chill rushes through Merlin that has nothing to do with the ache in his chest.

 “The world will end.”

 “Not the world,” the dragon corrects softly, “but…yes.”

 There’s no telling how many people would die. There’s no telling what damage that would do. There’s no telling whether there would even be a world after this is over.

 “How do I do it,” Merlin mumbles, his eyes falling closed, “how do I return my magic?”

 “There are places where the barrier between the worlds is thinner,” the dragon says, “here…in these places, at special times, the spell can be cast that would return your magic in its entirety, to the earth.”

 Merlin swallows. “Will it kill me?”

 “No. That is part of the deal. You will live, your magic will not.”

 Merlin sets his jaw, the ache in his chest settling. “When is the next time?”

 “…at the next full moon.”

 “Where?”

 “I believe you know where.”

 “…the lake?”

 The dragon nods sagely. Merlin bows his head.

 “Will I get to see Freya?”

 “That, young warlock, I do not know.”

 Despite everything, a smile touches the corners of Merlin’s mouth. “You might want to start looking for something else to call me.”

 A realization crosses his mind.

 “You must be excited,” he says, “after me…no more Dragonlords.”

 “That is true,” Kilgharrah concedes with a nod of his head, “and yet…out of all the Dragonlords, I fear I will miss you the most.”

 “You could still visit.”

 Kilgharrah huffs a laugh. “I could. Though it was not long ago that you and I were not on such good terms.”

 “Not long ago I thought my magic would be mine forever,” Merlin says. “Things change.”

 “Indeed they do.” Kilgharrah stretches his neck out, looking down at Merlin. The dragon lowers himself to his belly. “And you, young warlock, you have changed greatly.”

 “Mm.”

 “You were so small,” the dragon murmurs, “so wide-eyed when you first came to Camelot. Sometimes I wonder what happened to that very young boy.”

 “Yes,” Merlin murmurs, “I wonder what happened to me.”

 Kilgharrah has the decency to bow his head. Then, in a shocking display of tenderness that startles the both of them, he stretches his massive neck out, rumbling quietly. Merlin, still curled up on the ground, reaches out, arms open.

 The dragon buries his head in Merlin’s lap, pushing his snout gently into his belly, closing his eyes as Merlin rests against his broad face.

 I forgive you, they say to each other, I forgive you.

 The next full moon is in a few weeks. In that time, Merlin thinks.

 He has the spell. He’s told Gaius. Gaius isn’t pleased, but…as Merlin reminds them both, it could be worse. Merlin will survive. It will just be…different.

 Merlin uses those weeks to try and figure out who he is without magic.

 He figures out that he should probably learn how to fight without magic.

 The knights are more than happy to help him, even if Lancelot pulls him into a rough hug when Merlin tells him, even if Leon looks at him and bows, even if Gwaine curses lightly.

 He learns. He learns through bumps and bruises but he learns.

 He figures out that he is absolute rubbish as a physician’s assistant.

 Gaius simply shakes his head and tells him it’s a good thing he’s Arthur’s servant, there’s no way he’d make it as Court Physician after he’s gone. The good news, Gaius tells him, is that not having magic shouldn’t impact his knowledge of magic in the slightest.

 He learns. He learns through trial and error and sleepless nights, trying to learn all that he can while he still can.

 He figures out that really, he’s doing this for Arthur.

 Not that it surprises him much, he hadn’t been lying to Kilgharrah. Arthur is the reason, at least the main reason, he’s like this now. Arthur and the hope that Arthur will create the kingdom meant to last, unite the land of Albion. He’s doing it for the way Arthur stands tall, amidst a council that is still more Uther than Arthur, and refuses to compromise. He’s doing it for the way a knight no longer has to be of noble blood, the way Percival and Lancelot and Elyan are more valued than ever because of their abilities, not their names. He’s doing it for the way he sees the people smile when Arthur walks by, no longer fearful of their king but proud.

 He’s doing it for the way Arthur is strangely softer in the mornings, before he puts on the crown, still dozing in the warm sunlight. He’s doing it for the way Arthur still can’t remember where he’s put his quill, even if he was holding it only a few seconds ago. He’s doing it for the way Arthur smiles at him, alone in his chambers, just at Merlin.

 He’s doing it for the way that Arthur hugs him fiercely in the early morning light, strong enough to take Merlin’s breath away, and says softly that Merlin is enough, he doesn’t want a normal servant, he doesn’t want a knight, he doesn’t want a sorcerer, he just wants Merlin. And all Merlin can do it hold him back.

 He’s doing it for Arthur.

 He casts one last spell as he stands there, at the edge of the lake, in the moonlight. He cups his hands and whispers into them.

 A single blue butterfly flutters away, its wings almost glowing in the pale silvery light.

 Merlin is magic.

 He is gold and he is silver and he is strength and he is tenderness. He is the way the earth curves about itself and the way the sky stretches farther than the eye can see.

 And yet, as Merlin smiles, murmuring the last spell he’ll ever cast and feeling the ache in his chest start to lessen, the magic start to pull away from him, he knows he can be more.

 For the others who were born with magic, he can be more.

 For those that have yet to learn what magic truly is, he can be more.

 For Arthur, he can be more.

 Merlin closes his eyes and lets go.

[queerofthedagger]

002: Merlin

Thank you for the ask! ❤️

how I feel about this character:

He’s such a sassy, brilliant little shit and I love him so much. I love how very complex his character is - he’s incredibly kind and protective and caring, but he also does not put up with anyone’s shit, walks into Camelot with magic and sasses the very first knight he finds, drops a chandelier on someone, and has a chat with a dragon. Iconic. For real though, one thing I truly love is both his complexity from the start, and the way he develops throughout the show even if it’s not necessarily positive character development.

all the people I ship romantically with this character:

Arthur, Leon, Mithian, and also I can see the appeal of Gwaine but I’ve been... put off the ship for reasons, and now I mostly vibe with the unrequited version from Gwaine’s side.

my non-romantic OTP for this character.

Merlin & Gwen, and Merlin & Lancelot (or Merlin & Gwen & Lancelot) are the chaotic duo/trio the world needs. I also absolutely love the idea of more Merlin & Elyan content because I feel like that would be a contest of sass that makes everyone avoid them to not become their target.

my unpopular opinion about this character:

Ngl this question is a blessing and a curse. I have so many.

He was right to not put the “greater good” above everything. It’s never a good idea tbh, and specifically, it would have been even less Merlin than how he developed in later seasons. On that note, I also don’t think that it’s hard to understand why he put Arthur and the people he loved first; first of all, it’s natural. Second of all, they’ve done a lot more for him than “his people” who either told him how very much they expect of him, or outright attacked him. To go off that; it’s also not a contradiction that he did. A dead Arthur wouldn’t have legalized magic, so it wasn’t a “betrayal on his kind” either.

Also, Merlin deflected emotional situations as much as Arthur did. Maybe for different reasons and sometimes situations of a different kind, but my boy does not deal well with EmotionsTM a lot of the time.

And because I cannot say this often enough: he had every right not to tell Morgana about his magic, he’s not to blame for what she did, and I don’t think it would’ve changed much in the long run except make his life even harder (or shorter.)

one thing I wish had happened with this character in canon:

Because obviously he hasn’t suffered enough, I would’ve loved seeing him being confronted and dealing with his immortality.

my OTP:

Merthur all the way. What can you do, they’re soulmates.

a headcanon fact:

After Arthur’s death, Merlin regularly brought flowers to Avalon, and while it’s sad, it also made him smile a little every time because he could perfectly imagine Arthur’s teasing while he failed to hide that he was happy about it.

Also, he reconciled with Aithusa some time after Camlann, and they kept each other sane (on that note: Merlin did not spend 1500 years solely grieving on the shore of Avalon. It wasn’t easy, and at the start, he only did it for being prepared and up to date when Arthur returned, but eventually, he also did it for himself. He never stops missing Arthur or waiting for him, but he’s not a mess for over a millenia.) 

send me a character or a ship and I’ll tell you what I think

[carryonsimoncarryonbaz]

New Fic!

I initially wrote this fic for the Carry On Countdown deleted scene/ missing scene prompt but didn’t manage to finish it/edit it in time. Then I thought I would use it for the Carry On Big Bang, to have an actual FINISHED fic ready before deadline for once. But I wasn't sure if there was enough inspiration for an artist in this fic. And I'm impatient when I have a finished fic in my files. And I had another idea for COBB. So here it is--a canon based, gap-filler of the night they went searching for Nicodemus. 

I Follow You

Simon

I’m sitting in this posh car of Baz’s and flipping through the radio stations. There’s not much music at Watford, not since the Mage banned electronics. I stop at the station playing Christmas carols.

It’s not felt like Christmas at all this year. The days have blended together so the fact that it’s almost Christmas has caught me by surprise.

I’d be hiding out in the den with Agatha if I’d been at the Wellbeloves. Their big party is on Christmas Eve and it’s always a madhouse there in the days leading up to the actual event. Mrs. Wellbelove never liked us underfoot.

Well, she didn’t like me underfoot. And Agatha hated helping Helen dust, so we’d skive off as much as we could.

I’m relieved Baz told his step-mum we’d miss the evening meal tonight. I guess relieved isn’t quite the right word. I’m a bit gutted to miss the food but thankful to be spared another awkward encounter with his family.

I suppose I’ll have to sit through Christmas dinner with them. Won’t that be a treat. I wonder if Baz will try to make me wear coat and tails, the tosser. I’d look like a damn penguin, I would.  

And he’d look like a fucking prince, the prat. I can just see it. I shake the thought out of my head.

Baz is taking forever.

I look out the passenger side window but there’s no sign of him.

I’m glad he said I didn’t have to go in with him. His aunt Fiona creeps me out. She looks so much like Baz but with sharper edges somehow. Looks at me like she’d burn me to cinders with her eyes if she could. Baz has threatened to burn me to ash more times than I can count but somehow his eyes never look quite as disconcerting as hers do.

I can’t sit still. I think about getting out of the car to stretch my legs but I don’t want to risk locking myself out. Merlin, I’d never hear the end of it from Baz if I did. I’ve not got my wand to magic myself back in, even if I could spell it open without some disaster happening to the car itself.

Not something I’d particularly want to explain to Mr. Grimm.  

I tap my fingers on the armrest.

What could be taking so long? He’s supposed to ask her about Nicodemus, not stop for tea and biscuits and a bit of a jaw.

I pull at the collar of my jumper. I don’t really want to stretch it out but the neck is snugger than I like.

Not that it’s even my jumper. It’s Baz’s. Soft and posh, a pale Nordic blue. Even smells like him.

Baz insisted I wear something other than my uniform. Said I looked twelve in my Watford gear, which is rot.

At least he let me wear my own trousers. Imagine the laugh of me wearing his posh jeans—too long in the leg and too tight in the arse, no doubt.

He does look imposing in the suit he’s got on. It fits him just right, like all his clothes do, the wanker. The only clothes that fit me like that are my Watford ones. In the summers I just make do with trackies, t-shirts and baggy thrift-shop jeans.

But even my magically fitted Watford clothes have never looked anywhere near as sharp as Baz’s stylish togs. Looks right fit he does.

Dr. Wellbelove let me borrow one of his posh suits one Christmas. I wasn’t as tall or as broad in the shoulders then. It looked good. I looked good. I looked like I belonged there, next to Agatha, even if the suit hung a bit loose.

I didn’t look like I belonged last night at Pitch Manor. I looked out of place—flushed and stammering, my wrinkled school uniform starkly plain against all their posh clothes. Even with Baz wearing jeans, rather than the waistcoat and silk scarf I’d always imagined he’d wear to lounge around at his ancestral home.

Like some brooding protagonist in a Gothic novel.

I didn’t belong there yet somehow it still felt like they were trying to make me feel welcome, odd as that may be. Mr. Grimm didn’t say much after greeting me, but he didn’t make any snide comments or asides about the Mage either. Baz’s step-mum just kept passing me platters of food and giving me these fleeting little smiles when I’d pile more on my plate. I couldn’t say no. I always thought Cook Pritchard’s food was the best, but this was even better than the meals at Watford. I had to pop my trouser button before the pudding last night.

I wasn’t going to pass on eating that trifle.

Baz

Fiona was painfully resistant to providing much information about this Nicodemus. There’s more to his story than she’s telling me, that’s for damn sure.

Who would go to the vampires? It doesn’t make sense. A Mage has power in and of himself. Magic gives us so much. Why trade that to become a pariah and an outcast?

An eternal life being ostracized?  Sounds more like hell. I think the immortality rumors are complete rubbish. We’d be overrun by vampires if they were true (I don’t want them to be true.)

All I know for certain is that we have to go to Covent Garden. Fiona spilled that at least. I should be able to sniff them out. Follow the scent of a fresh kill.

I hate that.

I hate that they’re out there, lurking in the shadows. Preying on some poor sod who had too much to drink. Some girl who made the mistake of walking to the tube station alone.

I can’t save them all. I can’t save any of them.

Not by myself. Not even with Snow. What are we going to do—take on an entire pack of vampires on our own? I think the fuck not.

No. It’s not the time for retribution. I need to know the truth about what happened. Why my mother seems to trust this Nicodemus when Fiona—who was his friend (or more) (I don’t want to think about that)—can barely bring herself to speak his name.

I need answers. I can burn it all down another time.

Although this may be the only time I have Snow at my side.

On my side.

He’s all agitation and tumbled curls when I get in the car. “Did she tell you anything, Baz?”

“She told me enough.”

“What’s that mean?”

I sigh as I start the car. “It means I have an idea of where to find him.”

“So we’re off to the vampire lair, then?”

I give him a withering look. “No, Snow, not yet.”

“Well, why the hell not? You know where to look now, yeah?”

“I’d rather find them after they’ve fed. They might not be all that interested in me but you look like a tasty snack.” In more ways than one, but I keep that thought to myself.

He does though. Snow looks fabulous. He looks gorgeous all the time, but the sight of him in my clothes—there’s an intimacy to it that’s threatening to wreck my composure.

Breathtaking. That’s what he is.

Even now, in this old jumper of mine. It stretches over his broad shoulders, hugs his chest, in just the right way. The colour brings out the blue of his eyes.

I want him to keep it.

I know that’s stupid. But I don’t wear it and the thought of Snow having something of mine—something that brushes against his skin, that soaks in the scent of him, that is tangibly my own and now his--that’s tantalizing, I must admit.

I’ll make sure he takes it with him when he goes.

Fuck.

I don’t want him to go.

But what reason do I have to convince him to stay once we get answers from Nicodemus? None, really.

Not unless I can find a way to draw it out. Keep the truce going through the winter break. Make him stay by my side as we puzzle this mystery out.

Entice him with more of Daphne’s cooking? That actually might work. He’d certainly not stay for me.

Snow’s voice interrupts my fantasies of toasting New Year’s Eve with him at my side. “So what’re we going to do then? Just drive around until what, dinner time?”

My tone is sharper than I intend when I answer. “No, you berk, we’ve got research to do.”

Simon

So now we’re at the British Library. I’ve never seen so many books in one place. Entire floors of them. Galleries full. It’s a world of books.

Baz is striding around as if he owns the place, pulling books off the shelves, foraging through catalogues, going up on tiptoe to reach the higher racks.

I’m following behind, carrying books. I can barely see over the towering pile he’s burdened me with. “Can I put these down somewhere? Nab a table for us or something?”

Baz frowns, places two more books on the stack in my arms, then narrows his eyes at me. “You’d have to stay at the table, to make sure the librarian doesn’t reshelve them while I keep looking.”

“It would be a treat to stop following you around like your own personal book Sherpa.”

I think Baz almost smiled. His lips quirked up and it wasn’t a sneer for once.

“Fine, Snow. Your Sherpa duties are suspended. Find a quiet spot, and I’ll join you in a bit.”

There’s precious few people here besides us.

I suppose most people don’t willingly spend their Christmas holiday in a library. Baz looks as if he couldn’t be happier. It’s odd to see him so . . . well, maybe content is the right word? He’s more at ease here, almost smiling to himself as he pulls books out, carefully flipping through them, and then putting them back on the shelf. I think he actually patted one a moment ago, before setting it aside.

I can’t help but think of how similar he is to Penny. They’re both absolutely gone when it comes to books. Can’t get enough of them. I’ve been to Penny’s house before—I’ve seen how she gets when her mother brings home a load of new books.

Baz has that same gleam in his eye right now. But softer somehow, like his edges have been smoothed a bit.

Merlin, maybe the trick to getting him to soften up is to surround him with books. Distract him from his plotting to end me.

Although he’s not done much scheming since our truce. I haven’t had that feeling from him at all. It’s odd. Unnerving in a way.

I kind of like it.

Which is bollocks, because as soon as we’ve figured things out everything will go back to how it was. Stinging comments. Dirty looks. Spats about the window, the bathroom, the smell of my magic, my dismal inadequacies as a mage—all the miserable interactions we usually have.

Baz joins me a short time later, a tower of books in his arms. He pushes one pile toward me and keeps the other for himself.

“Any mention of vampires, Snow. That’s what we’re after. Get to it.”

And with that he buries his nose in the book he’s holding and it’s research time.

Bloody hell. He is just like Penny.

We leave an hour later with our stash on the table slightly diminished. Baz has pocketed at least three of the books and he’s ignoring my outraged looks.

“You can’t take those,” I hiss at him.

“It’s the British Library, Snow. It’s meant for all of us.”

“To read the books, you privileged prat, not steal them.”

“I’m not stealing. I’m borrowing. That’s what libraries are for, in case you’ve conveniently forgotten, Snow.”

“So you’re telling me you’ll bring them back, then?”

“I’m not a barbarian.”

“I’m sure you’re breaking some law.”

“It’s our tax dollars at work on the upkeep here, Snow. And I highly doubt they’ll miss them.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re overly self-righteous. It’s tedious.” He turns and raises one eyebrow. “Come along, now. We’ve not got all day.”

My stomach rumbles as we make our way to where Baz parked his car (illegally, I might add) (he spelled the no parking sign invisible, the wanker.)

I hope our next stop is dinner.

It’s not.

Our next stop is the fucking British Museum.

The Reading Room to be exact. Baz pilfers a few more books. I end up arguing with him again. He’s trying to get me to hide one of them under my jumper.

“Listen. You can’t just do this. You can’t just take those books.”

“I told you, it’s research.”

“it’s treason, is what it is.”

“Are you going to tell the Queen, Snow?”

I huff and make him steal his own books. I’ll not be party to theft against the Crown, for Merlin’s sake.

The museum closes and we wander around until my stomach rumbles loudly again. Baz rolls his eyes.

“Well, I don’t see why the vampires get to have a meal before we go searching for them and we don’t,” I complain.

“Ugh, fine.” He waves an arm around the square. “Find a place. Just not a chippy. I don’t want to get grease stains on the books.”

“Oh, now you’re worried about the books.”

We find a place where I can get a curry and some samosas. Baz doesn’t order anything. He sits across from me, sucking on his fangs and flipping through the pages of some dusty leather tome—the one he was trying to get me to pilfer.

I expect this is why he’s never had a girlfriend. At least none that I’ve heard about. Can’t imagine many girls would be up for dates that involve library research, outright larceny and being ignored all through dinner. Not bloody likely, even if he is all posh and fit.

Baz slams the book shut, startling me just as I’m scooping up the last remnants of my tikka masala.

He stands up. “Come along, Snow.”

He’s out the door in an instant. I don’t know how he moves that fast.

I scramble to follow him outside. “Are we going after the vampires now, then?”

“Would you keep it down? I don’t need our business broadcast through all of Bloomsbury,” Baz hisses as he sweeps past me, heading down the street in the direction of the car (illegally parked again) (it’s getting to be a habit, this criminal activity of his.)

I buckle in and narrow my eyes at him. “So Covent Garden, then? That’s where she said they hang out?”

Baz glances at his watch (I swear to Merlin it’s a fucking Rolex). “Bloody hell. How can it only be eight o’clock?”

“What’s the problem? It’s dark out. The vampires should be on the prowl by now.”

I get another eye roll. The similarities between Baz and Penny are really starting to grate on me.

“No, Snow. They won’t start this early. It’ll be close to midnight before they’ve got easy pickings from the drunks heading home for the night.”

I frown at him and cross my arms over my chest. “How do you know this?”

Baz sighs. “I don’t know anything. It’s just conjecture. It’s sure to be a damn sight easier to lure someone into a dark alleyway late in the night, rather than when commuters are still crowding the streets and club goers are just heading out.” He meets my gaze, eyes grey as the winter sea, but lacking their usual spark. “It’s how predators work, Snow.” His shoulders sag as he leans back in his seat.

I think of all the times he slipped back into our room late in the night. I think about the hollowed-out rat corpses in the Catacombs. I think about the night I found him down there, fifth year.

I decide not to push Baz on this.

“So what’re we going to do now? Rob another library?”

That gets the flash back in his eyes as he directs a glare at me. “We’re going to go to the feeding grounds.”

That sounds sufficiently ominous.

It’s not what I expect.

It ends up Baz means the various dance clubs scattered around Covent Garden. The clubs that spill out drunk and boisterous revelers at all hours of the night. Revelers who need to catch buses or the tube or flag down taxis in the dark and twisty streets. Pretty girls who may not notice the unnaturally pale skin of their dance partners in the multi-colored strobe lights of a dance bar. Carousers who eagerly take the offer of a ride home from the bloke who’s been sitting next to them at the bar for the last few hours, making pleasant conversation about Arsenal.

Baz

There are a surprising number of people out and about in Covent Garden tonight, considering it’s Christmas Eve. It takes me an inordinately long time to find a parking spot. We could have walked from the restaurant, as Snow keeps unhelpfully reminding me, but I prefer to have the option of a quick getaway, should things turn ugly with the vampires.

This was probably a mistake, coming here with him.

Snow continues to badger me as we get out of the car. He’s far too hung up on this and I simply don’t have the patience for it.

“Crowley, Snow, it’s not like I spend all my time plotting your downfall. I do have a life that doesn’t revolve around you.” Not quite a lie but close enough.

“But dancing? You go dancing? You can’t be serious.”

I can’t believe this is what he’s fixated on. I give him a withering look. “It’s called having fun, Snow. Ever tried it?” I want to take the words back as soon as I see his face fall. Of course he hasn’t. His life has been an endless shuffling from care home to care home, except for when he’s at Watford where he spends any free time he has training as the Mage’s boy soldier—honing his skills as a weapon of destruction.

I feel like an absolute wanker. But I can’t take it back now. I can never take back anything I say to Snow. It stays there, written on both our souls in indelible ink.

Simon

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “I’m not going to a dance club.”

“Then you can sit in the car and wait, Snow.”

Well, I’ll be fucked if I let him go sneaking off on his own. I trot down the sidewalk after him. “Baz, this makes no sense.”

He whirls back to face me, the streetlights highlighting half his face, the rest of it shadowed. “Then let me explain it to you using small words. We go to the club. We watch for suspicious activity. When we see someone acting dodgy we follow them out.”

“But what if they’re… I mean, what if they’re...”

“Spit it out, Snow.”

“There’re dodgy people at clubs who aren’t vampires, is all I’m saying. They’re not the only ones who might be willing to get up to dubious behaviour in a back alley, if you get my meaning.” My face is hot. I can feel the heat rush all the way up to my ears.

Merlin, this is fucking awkward.

I can tell as soon as he realizes what I mean. His mouth drops open and his eyes widen. He schools his face rapidly and drops his eyes, making a show of adjusting his cuffs. “Well, we’ll try to make sure we don’t interrupt anything . . .”

He trails off.

“Right. Good luck with that.”

He squares his shoulders then lifts his gaze up to mine, eyebrows lowered, eyes hooded. “I trust that I’ll be able to recognize the difference.”

“You’d have to be bloody psychic.”

“Trust me, Snow, I’ll have a better clue than you will!” There’s a harshness to his tone and a pained expression on his face.

And now I’m the one making a realization. He can sense them. Or at least he thinks he can.

Has Baz ever met another vampire? Other than the ones that Turned him? Not like he actually met them, of bloody course. Doubt they bothered with introductions first.

So I don’t know if he’s ever come face to face with one since and I don’t quite dare ask him right at the moment.

I’ve got to get through this night with him. Antagonizing him isn’t the way to do it.

I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this. But I do know one thing--I’m not letting him out of my sight, not with other vampires around.

“Fine. I’ll trust you on this, Baz. But so help me, I do not want to stumble onto some randy couple getting it on in a back alley!”

I don’t particularly want to blunder into a vampire feeding on a victim either but at least I’d know what to do in that situation.

“Point taken, Snow. I’ll try to ferret out the blood-sucking versus the cock-sucking before your delicate sensibilities and virgin eyes are irrevocably sullied.” He stomps away, still managing to look effortless and graceful, while I scurry in his wake.

“You are such a fucking arsehole.”

I follow him across the street to the club and isn’t it just typical that he bypasses the regular line to queue up at the VIP entrance.

The bouncer greets him like an old friend. “Ah, seems like it’s been ages since you’ve been here.” He peers over Baz’s shoulder at me. “Not your regular company tonight, eh? The boys off for the holiday?”

The boys? Oh. He must mean Dev and Niall. Seems Baz keeps company with his minions even when he’s away from Watford.  

“Unavoidably detained in the country,” Baz drawls, then slips the guy a tenner as he sweeps past him, motioning for me to follow.

I’m gobsmacked.

Baz has practically admitted he’s a vampire, but somehow the revelation that he frequents dance clubs is harder for me to fathom at the moment.  

“Shut your mouth, Snow. It makes you look far too thirsty. And I don’t mean for a drink. Someone will be whisking you into a back alley, if you don’t watch yourself.”

I sputter for an instant but I’ve got to keep my wits about me, because Baz is already striding toward the bar and I don’t want to lose him in the press of people.

He’s back, drinks in hand a moment later. I take the one he passes me and eye the glass dubiously. “I don’t drink, you know.”

I get a raised eyebrow. “Good to know you’re so virtuous, Snow.” He takes a sip from his own and gestures at my glass. “It’s soda water and lime, you utter berk. I’m not about to let either of us get muddled tonight. We’ve got to keep our wits about us, challenging as that may be for you.”

I take a cautious sip and relief floods through me at the bland taste of the soda water. I swallow the whole thing down.

“You’re a barbarian, Snow, really.”

“I’m thirsty is all. Those samosas were a mite salty.”

“Well, I’m not about to go get you another drink. That’s all I need tonight, you skiving off to the lav right when things get interesting.”

“Piss off.”

I turn away from him and take a moment to look around the club. I’ve never been to one before. It’s not the kind of place for a care home day trip.

The music is loud, the bass beat so intense I can feel it thumping through my chest. It’s early in the night but there are still masses of people here, hovering near the bar, gathered around high tables, pressed against each other on the dance floor.

I can’t say it fits with what I imagined, but I’ve never really thought much about places like this either.

I can honestly say I never imagined Baz at a dance club. I’m still a bit staggered at the thought.

I’ve lived with Baz for over seven years and I’ve somehow managed to discover more about him in the last twenty-four hours than in all that time before.

It’s unexpected. Everything about the last few weeks has been.

I move closer to Baz, going up on tiptoe so I can reach his ear. I probably don’t even need to bother, what with his vampire super senses, but I do it anyway. “So you weren’t kidding when you said you hang out at places like this? On a regular basis?”

I can’t tell if it’s the glow of the lights or if his face gets flushed at my question. He doesn’t turn to look at me and he doesn’t answer right away. I bump his shoulder lightly with mine, to encourage him.

He tilts his head down, bending close to my ear. I can smell his posh shampoo when he does. His hair is falling forward a bit, not quite as pristine as it was a few hours ago. It tickles my cheek.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it regular,” Baz says. I don’t expect him to say more after that but he does. “It gets quite boring in Hampshire over the summer.” He pauses and then I feel his breath against my skin as he continues. “It’s just a lark. Dev, Niall and I come up for the night on occasion, have a few drinks, a few laughs, burn off some energy dancing. For fun.”

I think about that. I think about Baz doing something for fun. I don’t think I’ve ever really thought about Baz doing anything for entertainment--other than finding ways to humiliate or enrage me.

It makes me feel odd, to think of him here, standing under the flashing lights. Grinning at Dev and Niall, letting his face relax into something other than a sneer. Making his way to the dance floor, as graceful and fucking ruthless as he is on the pitch.

I can almost see it. See him swaying to the music, shirt partially unbuttoned, head tilted back, eyes closed as he moves to the beat.

It’s right warm in here.

I can feel a trickle of sweat trail its way down my back. I dart a glance at Baz, who looks as cool and collected as he did when we left Pitch Manor. He raises his glass to me and smirks.

My face heats up. I jiggle the ice in my glass and sip a few of the drops that have melted.

We stand, shoulder to shoulder, pressed together by the growing crush of bodies around us.

Everyone looks pale and washed out under these lights. I don’t even know what I’m looking for. I don’t even know what a normal vampire looks like. I mean maybe they’re like goblins—fit buggers? Posh and fit, like Baz?

I’ve got no idea.

I don’t have much time to think about it. There’s a bloke standing right in front of us, all wavy blonde hair and tight jeans, with his silky shirt half unbuttoned. He’s smiling but it’s not at me. He’s only got eyes for Baz. I can’t quite catch what he says but Baz gives him a polite smile and a shake of his head.

The bloke shrugs and walks away, turning his head to wink at Baz before disappearing into the masses of people on the dance floor.

I’m whirling in Baz’s direction as soon as the guy shoves off. “Did he . . . did he just hit on you?”

Baz gives me a side-long look, then leans down so I can hear him. “It’s a dance club, Snow. He asked me to dance. It’s what people do here.”

I’m still reeling from that when a girl sidles up to Baz and starts batting her eyelashes at him, twirling a strand of her dark hair with one finger and going up on tiptoe to make herself heard. It also makes her lean forward and flash a bit more of her cleavage in his direction.

He gives her the same smile he gave the bloke and the same shake of his head. She darts her eyes at me and then back to Baz before resting her hand on his forearm and nodding in my direction. He shakes his head again but his smile’s gone this time.

I wish I’d heard what she said to him. I hope she’s not going to turn around and talk to me now.

I needn’t have worried. She’s off a moment later, without a backward glance.

I scan the people around us, take in the bodies moving on the dance floor, and then I pause for a moment to really look at Baz. To take in the sight of him, as if I were seeing him for the first time.

As if I didn’t know what an absolute prick he is.

He’s striking, with his grey eyes and his shiny dark hair. That aristocratic nose (I’m likely the only one that can see the bump on it) (I put it there.)

How he carries himself, the set of his shoulders, so self-assured. The way the fabric of his suit clings to him, hugs every curve, accentuating his long legs, his slim yet powerful build.

He’s breathtaking, if you don’t know him, isn’t he?

Baz shifts, breaking my concentration. He gazes down at his watch and tilts his head at me. I can see his lips move, mouthing the words “let’s go.”

Seems it’s time to hunt down some vampires.

I almost regret it, when we leave the club.

For a moment I could forget the rest of it. For a moment we were just two blokes having a night on the town together.

Baz

I don’t know how many times I’ve come to these clubs to exorcise Simon Snow from my brain. I don’t know how many times I’ve danced with faded copies of him, in a vain attempt to pretend he’s the one with me.

I finally have him here, at a club, within easy reach. Steps away from the dance floor and inches away from my arms and it’s nothing like my fantasies.

We’re not here together. Not really. We’re not even here as friends.

We’re here hunting vampires.

We’re searching for clues about my mother’s killer.

We’re here because we’ve been forced into this uneasy detente.

No more than that.

I look at my watch. It’s early yet but I can’t stand being here any longer.

Not like this.

Not when I can feel every beat of his heart, every thrum of blood in his veins, the heat of his body next to mine.

I can’t even let myself look at him, for fear he’ll see the yearning in my face.

I bump him with my elbow, just to savor that one brief instant of contact.

His eyes meet mine. “Let’s go,” I say and then I turn away.

[emrysarthurpendragon]

Don’t say goodbye

They grew old together. Or most likely, Freya looked older while Merlin was still the same. Even with his use of tricks, people couldn’t miss how younger he looked beside his wife and, of course, people were gossiping. Oh, look at that young fellow, escorting his mum to the dance. Oh, another diamond’s digger, he wants the poor lady’s gold. Merlin loved her all the same, even when Freya started feeling self-conscious. Tonight was a big event and Merlin would not let people interfere with their happiness. They had been married for thirty years, together since they met during the war, no one would be allowed to spoil them from their happiness.

“C’mon, love. The taxi’s waiting,” he said, wrapping his arms around Freya and claiming another kiss from her. She laughed but did not seem content. “What is it?” Merlin asked, feeling worried.

“I don’t feel like going out … all these people, they’ll think you’re a…”

“A man deeply in love with his wonderful, beautiful and so amazing wife? Then, they’ll be right. If they have nothing better to do, like paying attention to their company, it’s not our problem to worry about.” Merlin said, as he caressed Freya’s cheek, she leaned to the touch and nodded. “You want to go?” Merlin still questioned, as he never forced the woman to anything. Not now, not ever.

“I’ll do anything with you, you know it.”

“And so do I, I’ll even die for you,” he joked.

“Not that you actually can,” Freya teased him back and they both shared a laugh, cut short by a man’s voice. Their son, Gaius, who turned thirty a few weeks ago.

“Mum, dad, just go! I know the night is long but…”

“But that girlfriend of yours is waiting in her car, and you really need us to go so she can come in?” Merlin said, earning a horrified glance from their blushing son, and an amused giggle from Freya. “What? You thought we did not notice your eagerness whenever we planned a night out?”

“Actually, Merlin love, I recall I was the one who told you,” Freya added, raising an eyebrow in a ‘don’t mess with me’ look.

‘Really?” Merlin pretended to doubt her words, but he smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. Still. Gaius, remember to act like a proper gentleman. Serve her food first, don’t kiss her without her consent and if she drinks more than a glass of wine, drive her home. Don’t let her take a cab, strange things are happening now, and we don’t want to risk her life.”

“Dad!” Gaius whined, sounding like the child he used to be.

“Oh and there are condoms in your bedside. Even if I do hope you are not a horny creature and can wait until after your wedding.”

“PAPA!” Gaius now screamed, his face a deep shade of red as he hid it with his hands.

“Merlin, stop tormenting our boy,” Freya chastised her immortal husband. “He knows the rules and how to threat a woman.”

“We can’t remind him enough, can we?” Merlin wondered, “Ok. Ok. Let’s go. I’m sure the poor girl is freezing.”

Gaius visibly relaxed and hugged them both. In six months, he will be a doctor, like his parents. They never pressured him in such a carrier but when he had been old enough to understand his early life, Gaius had decided to help people, to save lives as a payment for the ones watching after him from above. Many died and he survived … for them, he will save humans without judgement or prejudice regarding whom they were, their religions or orientations. They were so proud of the man he became.

“I love you,” he whispered and the ushered them to the door.

“We love you too,” they both said, waving as they headed to their car. Still, Merlin couldn’t help but make a quick detour to a vehicle parked close to theirs. He knocked at the window and chuckled when the woman inside literally jumped on her sit. Thanks to some make up and fake white hair, Merlin looked close to his wife age – or not as young as he was – so she probably never questioned what he told her. Or it was because she flustered and wished to vanish. “Good night, Milady. Gaius is all yours until midnight, you’ll see, he made his favourite recipe, learned from my dear Freya. Have fun!”

When he joined his wife in the car, she sent him a glare and after a minute, they both laughed.

“You had to scare the poor girl, aren’t you?”

“What do you want? We, immortals, had to take little pleasures when they are at reach. Plus, I’m sure she’s a future ‘Mrs Emrys’. I like her.”

Freya said nothing but she truly wished the best for their son. Of course, Gaius had no memories from their times in death camp, but he still had enough suffering for a life. Until now, his relationship never lasted long, mostly because their boy wanted to protect their secret but he deserved his happy life. Merlin even planned to vanish, if it helped Gaius. The boy always refused, claiming that one day, he will find the one. The one with whom sharing their darkest secret would be fine. He had been courting that woman for a couple of months now, they all hoped she would stay around and accompany Gaius on the long road of life.

 At the restaurant, Merlin held a hand to Freya as he helped her sit on her chair, before placing himself facing her. Tensed at first, the older-looking woman soon forgot the stares and they laughed, shared stories from their past and all the happy times they had. Gaius’ first steps, in their apartments in London. The day she graduated from nurses’ school, with the photograph still in their living room as a testimony that, even if you travelled trouble waters, happiness was waiting for you at the corner. Their wedding day, with so many people they couldn’t even count. Mordred had been there for a couple of years, but he vanished after their son’s fifth birthday. People who went to Dachau too, and were now like family. People who – Freya learned it that day, as Merlin never took credits for his good deeds – the man helped hide. Entire families were still alive because Merlin existed. As they talked about it, Merlin blushed again and waved it off, claiming he just did what numerous people managed to do in that time.

“Maybe, but you’re the only one with a legend attaches to him,” Freya said, taking his cold hand in her warmer one. “Children and grandchildren know the story of an un-aging angel sent to protect us. A man without weapons, asking for peace instead of violence. The one who found a baby and raised him as his own son.”

“I’m no angel. I killed people too, when I had to.”

“And? Angels are warriors too. They have flaming swords and all kinds of weapons. Merlin, you are their saviour, our hero. You deserve this. Don’t you see their smiles whenever we visit them? You think they believe you, when you tell them you’re just a parent with their Merlin?”

“Why not?” Merlin asked, nervously playing with his food. He felt like he did not fit the part. He failed at saving so many friends … but the one death he felt the most ashamed of, he could not even remember it. Even in his nightmares, the scene vanished the moment he opened his eyes.

“They love you, that’s all I wanted to say,” Freya spoke and they continued their dinner. For dessert, they ordered something simple, chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream, as it held found memories for them. When they first moved back here together, they went to a park and shared an ice cream. The same night, Merlin made a cake for his beloved and surprised her when, as time passed, he surprised her when he cooked dinner for the family most of the time. With her school, Merlin had known how tired she had been and spared her the charge of a house. More than once, he had laughed at what her spouse’s friends told her. They often asked if they could borrow hum to teach their husbands; every single time, Freya told them her better half was not for sale. “You think Gaius will kiss her tonight?” Freya asked after a while.

“If he doesn’t, I kick him from the house. It’s been what … eight months? We never waited that long!”

“We met in different circumstances. Things go faster during a war. And if I’m correct, you were still a virgin when we met … how old were you then? A thousand and four hundred years old? More or less? Gaius’s still in time.”

“Very funny.” Merlin muttered. He knew he should not have told her about this. Of course, she would use it against him in moments like these.

“And you were so cute the first time, so clumsy! I still remember you falling off the bed!”

“Shh, Freya please!” Merlin squealed, remembering all too well what happened that night. They were on the boat taking them to their honeymoon in Spain, alone, without Gaius for the first time in months – Mordred had babysat him – and Merlin wanted the night to be special for them. Before their union, he had studied many books and asked some friend about what he should know for his first time with Freya, and at all in fact. Mordred, for instance, had watched him with wide eyes before he broke with laughers but then share some insightful knowledge with him. Some colleagues helped him too and told him to relax. Still, when the night came he worried he may hurt Freya and after load of cuddling, when he rolled on top of his beautiful wife, he went too far and fell on the floor. The young maid had laughed for a good fifteen minutes, with a pouting – naked – Merlin on the pavement. “I wish I could forget that night…” he mumbled, the shame still burning his soul.

“I held found memories from then. I loved you even more, knowing it happened because you cared. Most men, even now but more in our time, would have thought of their pleasure, not mine. I’m lucky I met you.”

“I still think it happened because we were on a boat, and the roll made me lose my balance.”

“If you think so, my love … if you say so…” Freya chuckled.

The night went smoothly. After dinner, they head to a dance’s event and twirled together, eyes into eyes, until they couldn’t notice the people around them. Nothing existed beside the two and their radiating love. In that moment, Freya felt like the young bride again and Merlin saw the way she smiled, the sparkles in her eyes. She was so perfect, like a diamond he had been lucky enough to hold all these years. Around noon, the placed closed and they stopped dancing. Like Cinderella, their time had expired and they had to go home.

“I wish that night never ends…” whispered Freya. “Take me to the Lake, please?” there was a feeling of urgency in her voice, Merlin noticed, but he said nothing and drove to the peaceful place. The first time they came as a family, Merlin noticed something in Freya’s stance and look. When he asked what the matter was, she said nothing, staring at the calm water. Still, they started coming each week as a ritual. Tonight though, something felt wrong. When they reached their usual spot, Freya turned around and took his hand. Her eyes shimmered in the moon light and the older man worried.

“Freya? What’s wrong?”

“You don’t remember, do you?” she asked, “The first time we came here together?”

“Of course, I do! We were with Gaius and…”

“No. The first time, we were alone. Together. We ran in hope of a new life, with a lake and mountains surrounding us. We wanted a new place, where people like us were not hunted down for what they were…” she whispered, silently begging him to remember. But remember what? “You erased your own memories in the fifth, early sixth century, after Arthur died. Long after I died too, and you sent us all here, in Avalon, as we waited to meet again.”

“What…? No. So what? You think I’m like… Merlin as in Merlin and King Arthur? It’s crazy. I lose my memories because a building fell on me. Magic never existed!” Merlin said, a bubble of anguish forming in his chest. If it were true, why was he so scared? Why did he always feel hollow near the lake? Like he was mourning someone? No. Legends. King Arthur and Camelot belonged to myths. “Why are you doing this? Why tonight?” he begged, his head starting to hurt as something tried to pierce through his skull.

“The Goddess think it’s time for you to realise what you’ve lost. She sent me back to this world, she made us meet again and … oh how much I love you. Time never altered our feelings. But you need to stop. You need to bring back magic and Camelot. Just look, we are all coming back. Mordred. Me. Gaius. The others will be born again soon … please. I’m begging you…”

Merlin watched her with eyes filled with pain and worry. Images started playing, submerging him like a wave contained for too long. His boy tensed. Freya, loving Freya, knelt beside him and gently patted his back.

“Let them come, my love…” she soothed with kind words. “Let them come and guide you to the Source…”

The Source. Source of all magic. Arthur. Death. NO!

Merlin’s mind shut all the memories. He locked them even more behind his walls. Confused, Merlin looked up from where he fell, with Freya watching him closely.

“Excuse me. What were we saying?” he asked, the conversation forgotten with everything related to his first life.

“I told you that place seems magical. I’m sure there are fairies hidden somewhere,” Freya said, knowing pushing her husband more was useless. Merlin did not want to remember. Even after all that time, his soul still had not healed from Arthur’s death. The wound was too deep, and never healed properly since the warlock refused to face the memories, good or not. “Hold me close for now…” she wanted to enjoy every moment, as the clock ticked to the end of their story. She had planned everything … ever since she feared she won’t be enough to make the warlock remember. When they came home that night, Freya watched Merlin’s peaceful sleep for hours. At three in the morning, she stood and got dress. At three thirty, she placed a letter on the fireplace, under the family’s portray. At three forty-five, she closed the door and never came back.

 * * *

 The morning after, Merlin opened his eyes to an empty place beside him. It surprised him, since Freya had always enjoyed extra sleep but he yawned and headed to the kitchen, where he found Gaius with a coffee in front of him, and a smile on his face. His date probably went well, and the proud father decided not to mess with his boy today.

“Have you seen your mother?” he asked after he swallowed his toast.

“No. Wasn’t she with you?” Gaius worried. “She’s probably in town; let’s look for a note,” he offered and they started searching for something. Merlin was in his office when Gaius knocked at the door. He looked pale, a letter in hand, and gave it to him. Thinking of it, Gaius seemed like the epitome of an abandoned child. Quickly, Merlin read the words and his world fell apart.

 My love,

 I can’t tell you how sorry I am for leaving you like this. My years with you were among the happiest I ever had and for that, I will always be thankful. When we met for the first time, I was scared, I felt like I was a beast, cursed for something I never asked for. Cursed for being me, a victim of the system. With you, I saw the light field from the sky and … and I knew I deserved to be happy. I’m proud to say I had been your wife in this life, and I know that one day, you’ll find the missing piece fulfilling your heart.

 Long ago, you told me you were immortal and I never questioned this. I didn’t because of reasons I can’t share at the moment… I also know you don’t mind people and their gossips, but no matter what, I’m freeing you, Merlin. Please, take care of Gaius and don’t waste your time looking for me. I love you. I love you so much there are no words strong enough to describe it. I hope that one day, you will remember your past and embrace it with open arms. I love you, my dear boys, remember me. ▬ Freya, mum.

 “Gaius, take your coat, she can’t be far!” Merlin ordered, already putting a jacket on. Her son complied and they both hurried outside. They asked the neighbourhood, the policemen touring their district, the milk’s deliveryman. No one had seen or heard of Freya.

“Dad, what about the lake?” Gaius said. They were at a café, after hours searching the town. Merlin’s head snapped up. How could he forget the lake? They went there just the previous day. Both men ran toward their place.

“Freya!”

“Mum!”

“Freya can you hear me?!”

“Mum, please come back!”

They circled the lake together. Gaius one side, Merlin the others. Nothing. Not even a misplaced item to lead them. They almost wished they found something, even if it meant the beloved woman had drowned under water. Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. Enough time passed to see Gaius introducing young Alice to his dad. A lovely lass with brown hair and chocolate’s eyes. It turned out she was one of these people, who loved mysteries and legends and when they told her about Merlin’s secret, she accepted him without questions. Afterwards, she asked a lot of them, obviously, but never when Merlin was in a bad day. Those happened each year, when it had been another 365 days without his Freya. He just gazed into emptiness for hours, not even acknowledging his family. But today, Alice had no choice but disturb the man. Gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder and pulled him from his dark thoughts.

“Merlin? A word, please,” she asked, they sat with Gaius on the couch, while he remained glued to his chair.

“Dad, we have good news,” Gaius said, beaming with pure happiness. “We are expecting a baby, a girl. Alice is pregnant!”

This brings the first real smile Merlin had in years. Laughing, he stood and held his son and Alice, the daughter he never had. “Congratulations! I’m so happy for you! When are you due, dear?”

“July, the 15th. We are so excited!”

“You already have names?” Merlin asked, curious now.

“Actually, yes,” Gaius said, still smiling and holding his wife’s hand. The two were so in love, it warmed the hearts.

“Hunith, and Freya for second.”

“Oh…” Merlin whispered. He could not say more, his emotions were overwhelming. A mix of happy and sad fighting inside him. “I… I love it.”

 Months later, when he met his granddaughter, Merlin loved her right away. Freya left without a proper goodbye but now, there was this new life he welcomed with an open heart. His wife had been right, when she said happiness will always find her way to their lives.

“Hello Hunith, I’m your grandpa…” he whispered, the first time he held her. For a curious reason, he felt like laughing when he said these words. As if there was some sort of inside jokes happening. “I will always love and protect you.”

 I’m so glad we meet again. I missed you, so much. I won’t abandon you this time. Please forgive me. Are the others coming too?

 Unknowingly to Merlin, something in his soul clicked; something awoke when his subconscious realised his loved one were coming back to him. That day, Merlin started aging again.

[fishoutofcamelot]

I saw your r recent contribution to the post about hard vs soft magic systems and I agree wholeheartedly. You also mentioned having a bunch of worldbuilding and stuff about the magic system, and I was wondering if you'd be willing to share some?

(For reference, this is the post in question)

Certainly! While the worldbuilding/magicbuilding hellscape i was describing in the notes is actually in regards to an original-content wip I've been working on, i also have a LOT of headcanons regarding the BBCM magic system too! (Do not ask about my wip's magic system, because i won't be able to shut up about it)

WARNING: long post ahead and mobile won't let me include a cutoff/read-more line. If you're not interested, get ready to scroll down like your life depends on it (and it does).

So! First things first. Here's what we know about the BBCM magic system:

Magic requires spells, most of the time. This seems like a no-brainer, but still an important distinction. There are a lot of magic systems that don't require vocalized spells - Avatar: the Last Airbender, Fullmetal Alchemist, and Ninjago, to name a few. Spells are rather common for wizard/witch/medieval fantasies, and are typically used to control and channel the intent of the magic. This suggests that the magic of BBCM is some kind of force or energy that needs spoken commands to control.

Spells are repurposed words from Old English, aka the language of the Old Religion. (Let's ignore the obvious anachronistic nightmare of the fact that Old English is exactly the same language they would've been speaking in this time period.)

The use of a spell causes someone's eyes to flare gold, plus that fancy wooshing sound effect that Arthur miraculously never hears. This suggests that magic somehow changes your physiology, although it could be also just be a side effect of channeling.

However, magic doesn't always require a spell. Though never fully explained, it appears to be something only innate magic users are capable of - Merlin, Morgana, Mordred. It is something less controllable than spellwork, typically governed by moments of strong emotion rather than logical intent.

The show consistently flip-flops between the idea that magic is something you're born with, and that Merlin is rare for being born with magic. It's never clarified just how someone acquires magic. Gaius asks Merlin where he studied, suggesting that it's something you can learn, while Balinor claims that you either have it or you don't. Though not confirmed fact, i suspect it's similar to how it works in the show Supernatural. There, some witches are natural-born, while others are taught (and some get their powers from spooky demon deals).

It has a life-for-a-life policy. Basically like the Law of Equivalent Exchange from Fullmetal Alchemist, a life cannot be created without another one being sacrificed first. This rule only canonically applies to creating life/the Cup of Life, and any other possible applications aren't addressed.

This rule apparently doesn't apply to animals, as Merlin brought a dog statue to life without killing anyone (that we know of), and Valiant's shield had three live snakes in it. However, it's possible that lives were taken as payment in the process of animation without Merlin's knowledge, but it never happens on screen so we don't know. So either a) animals don't have souls to exchange in the life-for-a-life policy, b) they do but it happens off-screen, or c) those animated animals aren't actually alive.

The Cup of Life infuriates me from a magicbuilding perspective. Ignoring the obvious question of how it came into the druids' possession, its existence isn't clearly defined. Does it require the fancy rain ritual that Nimueh gave it, or was she just extra? Why does drinking from it give you life, while bleeding into it makes you undead and also mindlessly obedient to the sorcerer who made you as such? Were there life-for-a-life consequences for creating an immortal army? Wtf happened on the Isle of the Blessed to allow Merlin to "master life and death", and what does that even mean? All valid questions that never get answered.

Spells sometimes need need a 'source'. Think the staff from "The Tears of Uther Pendragon" and Morgana from "The Fires of Idirsholas." It is unclear what makes these spells different/special.

There is a power hierarchy. Some spells are too powerful for some practitioners to cast, although the reason for this is unclear. Does it drain you of energy/life force? Do you exhaust/overwork your magic muscles? Do you get a little pop-up that says 404 Magic Not Found? Unclear.

Magic is something that can be trained and improved. For example, Morgana gradually became more powerful over time. Merlin naturally had a lot of power straight off the jump and just had to discipline it, but he's a ~special~ case so he doesn't count.

There are some subsets of magic that are definitively born traits. Morgana is a Seer, possessing this capability even before her magic manifested. Likewise, Merlin is a dragonlord, which he inherited from Balinor. Although Balinor did mention that it wasn't a sure thing he would have the ability until he faced a dragon, so there may be some variation in whether or not someone lucks out in the Magic Gene Pool. This may suggest that natural-born magic is hereditary, as both Morgana and her sister Morgause had it. Vivienne and Gorlois both probably didn't have it, otherwise you'd hear Uther bellyaching about it, which raises the question of where they got it? A grandparent, perhaps? Maybe they both carried a recessive magic gene or something...

Unless you're Merlin, magic can be taken away by the Gean Canagh. It's not explained how this is possible, though, as it's never explained how you acquire magic in the first place. But Merlin never lost his magic because he's "magic itself" which if you ask me is just a deus ex machina wrapped inside a headache wrapped inside a heaping load of chosen one bullcrap. But it's canonical lore, so we have to consider it.

Despite my previous complaints, i actually find the idea of Merlin being "magic itself" rather intriguing. Is he a creature of magic, like a dragon or a questing beast? Is his body made of magic, like how a statue might be made of clay? Does it run through his veins like blood? If this is the case, then why didn't he suffer more severe ramifications for losing his magic? Why didn't it kill him? How did it restrict his magic in the first place? Placebo effect? The fanon explanation is that he's "the living embodiment of magic" but that makes my bullcrap richter scale shoot off the charts because that makes NO sense whatsoever. "Son of the earth, sea, and sky?" What does that MEAN?

There is a vivid link between magic and the Old Religion, which has its own beliefs and rituals and deities. Primarily, the Triple Goddess. The Triple Goddess is actually an existing deity in Neopaganism and Wicca. This also suggests the existence of the Horned God, another entity from neopagan lore and her masculine consort/counterpart, but that is never confirmed.

WHO. OR. WHAT. IS. THE. FREAKING. DOCHRAID. She's described as a creature of magic, which suggests that humans/humanoids can be creatures of magic, fueling my theory that 'Emrys' isn't human.

Destiny exists. It is unclear who creates/writes destiny, who controls it, who or what is privy to knowing about it, and what that means for the concept of free will.

The crystal cave is a thing, i guess. It's the heart of magic, is haunted by Taliesin, and is filled with prophetic crystals. I actually skipped the episodes that involve this stuff because i disliked them, so i don't know much about the Crystal Cave. Apparently ghosts can manifest there tho???

The veil is a thing too. It is unclear how some spirits can retain their human figure and mentality, like Balinor and Uther, but others become dorocha. I imagine its also like Supernatural - being a ghost for long enough will drive you insane, and though it takes a while all spirits eventually turn into dorocha.

Creatures of magic exist. These are normal creatures who have magic imbued into them somehow.

Okay, i think that's everything we know. It seems like a lot, but keep in mind that all of those rules are VERY nebulous. But that at least gives us a jumping-off point!

So here's my working theory/headcanon.

Magic comes from a connection to the spiritual energies of the Triple Goddess. Kinda like a third eye, and for the sake of simplicity that's what we'll call it. The druids have adapted a way of life that revolves around faith and magic, likely in an attempt to cultivate and one day attain this Third Eye. Like Gaius, who trained with the High Priestesses, you can study and practice and discipline yourself into acquiring it.

Magic is a cosmic force owned by the Triple Goddess, accessible to anyone with the Third Eye link. Imagine the Triple Goddess as a milkshake and the so-called Third Eye as a straw. The studying and training that people dedicate their whole lives to is basically just looking for/building a straw.

However, some people are just naturally born with a straw in hand, but require practice and study to be able to properly use it. Or like Morgana, it takes a few years for them to even find it/activate it.

Spellcasting is essentially just sucking through the straw, and the vocalized spells gives that Magic Milkshake some purpose/intent/shape.

The bigger the spell, the more Magic Milkshake is required. Some people have bigger/wider straws than others, so magic comes easier for them. But with enough training and practice anyone can widen their straw/strengthen their straw-sucking muscles to cast with the big leagues.

The Gean Canagh devours your straw/Third Eye. Perhaps you have to rebuild a new spiritual connection from scratch, or perhaps it permanently severs any and all connection to the Triple Goddess. Like getting excommunicated from the Church, only worse.

The Crystal Cave was/is the Triple Goddess's home, but she's out of town on a business trip atm so she left the spirit of her most loyal follower, Taliesin, to look after the place. It's super powerful and has all those cool crystals because it's hella steeped in her magic juices.

While most magic users get a standard-issue straw, others get Fancy Premium Membership Straws. Normal joe shmoes like Gilli have plastic straws, while a Seer like Morgana has a metal one or something (can you tell this metaphor is starting to get out of hand?). Those Premium Straws are only hereditary in nature. So there's a Seer Straw, or a Dragonlord Straw, or a Disir Straw, but it's also not a sure thing you'll even inherit it at all. It's all luck of the straw draw.

Creatures of magic aren't just animals that possess straws, though. They've been made/produced using magic rituals and processes and spells. Like Nimueh's afanc, nathairs, wraiths, shades, etc. So probably like a thousand years ago, some especially powerful shmuck came by and invented dragons. Which leads me to an important question: WHO THE HELL THOUGHT THE DOCHRAID WAS A GOOD IDEA.

Im reluctant to say these creatures were invented by the Triple Goddess, though, for reasons I'll get to in a moment.

So this still leaves the whole Cup of Life, life-for-a-life policy thing to be explained. I do believe that the policy is universally applicable to the creation of souls, and i do believe that animals have souls too. But individuals get their souls exchanged for those of equal value. So every soul has a certain weight to it, and you need to exchange souls of equal weight to create one. So when Merlin brought the dog to life, some random dog somewhere dropped dead against his knowledge.

Creating undead armies involves killing them and then resurrecting them. That's what 'undead' means. Zombies. So yes, to raise an immortal zombie army, Morgause's spell probably caused a bunch of people around the world to mysteriously drop dead.

Which leaves two last things to explain: destiny and Merlin.

Destiny is, i think, a combined effort between human choice and supernatural predeterminism. That is, for the most part humans make their own choices, but there are occasions where the Triple Goddess has to step in and do some course correction. Uther starting the Purge was free will, but Arthur and Merlin's destiny was an act of divine damage control. The Triple Goddess sets destiny into motion and informs a chosen few about it.

Okay SO. That leaves Merlin. And this is the bit im kinda excited about.

The Triple Goddess is a reservoir of power, a cosmic force of spiritual energy intrinsicallu linked to the fabric of the universe. People can spiritually reach out and tune into/channel her supernatural frequencies. But as a milkshake cannot suck itself through a straw, the Triple Goddess likewise cannot cast a spell. She can influence destiny, but she can't physically cast any magic on her own. That's why she didn't create the creatures of magic.

So a few years ago, Uther hecked up big time. And people of magic, the Triple Goddess's followers and acolytes and straw connections, were dying in droves. I can imagine that all those Third Eye tethers snapping en masse was painful for her to go through. She relies on the tethers to remain connected to the real world, and if all the tethers snap then she will be cut off from Earth altogether. And Earth requires magic to continue existing/thriving, so that's kind of a no-no.

So, the Triple Goddess knew that the only way to save the world was through divine intervention. Thus began the destiny of the Once and Future King and Emrys. She knew humanity is bigoted so there was bound to eventually be a repeat of Uther, so she made OaFK resurrectable, so they could keep him on the bench in case anyone ever needs him again.

Where does Merlin/Emrys fall into things?

Well. The Triple Goddess knew that saving her people and the world would require an immense magical undertaking, something no ordinary magic user would be able to pull off. But she has the power, if only she could use it. But a human can. So the Triple Goddess decided to be reborn into the body of a dragonlord's son. Merlin. Emrys. Magic itself.

Of course, this whole Being Born As A Human Thing is tricky, and as anyone familiar with reincarnation knows, you don't usually recall your past lives. So she became Merlin, unaware that he was ever the Triple Goddess. (Although she did add a clause saying she'd be destined to remember her past life eventually, which got hecked up for reasons ill explain later)

That's why so many creatures of magic/magic users recognize Merlin by his presence, why thr druids carry such reverence for him. Whereas the sidhe and other individuals don't recognize him, because they are blinded by heresy. They may have a spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess, but do not use her magic as she intended, and she's too busy wearing jaunty scarves to excommunicate them herself.

Why get the Once and Future King involved when she could just save everyone herself? Well, the Triple Goddess prefers to let the humans keep their agency and save themselves, and would rather remain in the role of protector/helper. Its just her nature.

But if that's the case, then why did Arthur's destiny fail? It's simple: Kilgharrah.

Remember what i said about the Horned God, counterpart to the Triple Goddess? Yeah, that's Kilgharrah. Like the Triple Goddess, he's another power reservoir, but he's jealous because people worship her and not him. He is against everything she does and actively seeks the destruction of the Triple Goddess's magic/influence for Jealous Evil Reasons. To stop him, the Triple Goddess enlisted some of her followers to bind him into the body of a dragon (perhaps this is how dragons were created) so he would never be able to do that. Years later, the Purge happened and "Kilgharrah" got locked away, further cut off from his power.

When Merlin walked in, unaware that he used to be the Triple Goddess, Kilgharrah seized his chance at revenge and manipulated Merlin into setting him free. Then, once free, he decided to lay claim to the power vacuum left by the Triple Goddess's quasi-absence. He began controlling destiny in whatever limited capacities he could, using magic of his own to permanently bury Merlin's knowledge of his past life. Then he ensured that Arthur would die and the Triple Goddess's magic would never return. But since he doesn't have FULL control over destiny (his powers are still limited by his dragon form, after all), he couldn't rewrite the bit where Arthur gets benched in Avalon. He's probably conspiring with the sidhe to ensure Arthur stays trapped there forever, or else he would've come back a long time ago.

As for how the Gean Canagh took Merlin's magic...well, yes, it devoured his Third Eye straw, but those are created by a strong spiritual connection to the Triple Goddess. And since he's literally the big TG himself, all he had to do was find himself again (by returning to his old home, the Crystal Cave) to recreate a new one.

Over the last 1500 years, Kilgharrah/the Horned God has been steadily accruing followers and worshippers in the hopes that one will become strong enough to release TG's bonds on him. Then he can kill her once and for all and claim full dominion over the universe, with the sidhe to support him.

I imagine that's how Arthur's resurrection would happen - Arthur and the rest of the dead Round Table are in Avalon when they learn about the treachery and plot to kill Merlin/take over the world, and spend the next few hundred years fighting their way out of Avalon.

Okay, I think that just about covers it. God, that was long. Any questions?

[agentdagonet]

Someday Surprise

read it here on AO3

‘Oi, Merlin!’

‘Yes, Eggsy?’ Merlin held his head in his hands, rubbed at his temples as he waited for whatever banal question Eggsy had decided was worth bothering him about now. Ten years had done nothing to break the boy’s (for he would always be a boy to him) ridiculousness.

‘When were you gonna tell me you ‘n Harry are immortal?’  Merlin’s head snapped up and his hands came down so quickly the keyboard was damaged from the impact. Eggsy was propped casually against a sofa, the door was closed and locked, and he raised an eyebrow in response to Merlin’s shock. ‘Well?’

‘I should probably ask what gave you that idea.’

‘Probably, but then I’d pull out,’ Eggsy drew from behind his back a photo album, a garishly coloured thing that hadn’t been touched in at least a decade, ‘this, and point out all the dates.’ Eggsy flipped it open to a random page, ‘America somewhere, 1808 (you couldn’t be arsed to remember where?); Australia, 1900; Belize, 1750- and, somehow, you don’ look any different. Except maybe your hair, but I figure that’s easy enough to fuck with...’

Each comment had Merlin sinking further into his chair. This is what happened when someone was allowed limitless access to their home- they found things that should have remained hidden. That had managed to be hidden for several hundred years, like collections of portraits and photographs that documented their travels.

‘And I assume you’ve come to a conclusion of your own?’

‘See, thing is, I thought I’d done, yeah? Thought I’d figured this shit out years ago,’ How long had Eggsy known about the book?  ‘But it didn’t match up. So I’m here, askin’ you to make sense of it.’ Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose between two fingers and huffed a breath before he tapped the edge of his glasses several times and turned away.

‘Hamish, are you entirely aware of what time it is in Singapore-’ Harry complained through a yawn that was heard but unseen through the glasses.

‘He knows, Harry.’ It was typed out, utilising a feature that Merlin had only put into place for people outside of himself. He hated trying to focus at two layers of sight- to both see what he was doing in the real world and what he was typing into the glass barely a handful of centimetres from his face.

‘I beg your pardon.’

‘Eggsy knows. Found the book.’

‘Well, shit.’

‘I’m still here, bruv.’ Eggsy interrupted dryly, like Harry commenting on their target’s poor choice of interior design. Like Merlin had added on ‘with no parachute’ while he had been in training nearly ten years ago, now.

‘Give us a moment, lad- we’ve never had to tell this story before.’ That seemed to assuage him, and Eggsy allowed himself to slide from the arm of the sofa down to sit on it proper. The book was still open on his lap, and from the corner of his eye Merlin could see him turning pages idly.

‘Put your glasses on, Eggsy.’ Merlin sighed, and Harry couldn’t help but laugh at him. ‘Stop your laughing.’

‘I told you that book would bite us in the arse someday, but no you needed to have a record-’

‘There’s only so much space in the human brain, Harry, how else are we supposed to keep track-’

‘Boys, boys, ain’t no need to argue about shit- I just wanna know. I been with you ages, I fuckin’ live in your house, and you lot’ve got more makeup stashed about than one of them internet models. Wouldn’ it be easier not to have to lie all the fuckin’ time?’ Eggsy jumped in, having somehow managed to tap into their line- which would normally be something to worry about but at the moment was at the bottom of Merlin’s list of cares.

‘I don’t remember how long ago it was- a millenia, I think?- I stopped for a drink of water on the way back home. Brought as much as I could carry home- I’d often forget to get water from the well, while working. I’ve always been a man of science, though what I was interested in was called magic at the time, and I had a task ahead of me that many people of the time thought impossible.’ Merlin began, and Eggsy closed the book. ‘I managed it-’

‘Of course you did,’ Eggsy interrupted, grin on his face, and as irksome as the interruption was the grin set Merlin at ease. It, more than anything, let Merlin know that this wasn’t going to end poorly, with the loss of Eggsy from their lives- it would just be… complicated… for a time.

‘I managed it but it was a lot of trial and error. I’d been throwing things together at random, tested things on some animals I’d trapped in the forest, eventually tasting one thing before inhaling fumes from another- as much a mad scientist as you could imagine- before getting the combination right. I delivered my creation and some supplies to the person I thought most likely to succeed in the idea we lot had crafted together, and went home to wait.’

‘When I got back,’ Harry jumped in, ‘months later, I confronted Merlin in his chambers. Demanded to know what devil he’d sold his soul to to see our mission completed, shoved him into a wall with a blade-’

‘I think he gets it-’

‘And until I saw the absolute confusion in his face I’d no idea that he’d had no idea-’

‘It was entirely an accident-’

‘Easy t’see you’ve never told this story before cos I got no idea what’s going on. You’re usually better at givin’ the facts, Merlin.’

‘Well it’s not every day you have to tell someone that you accidentally made King Arthur immortal.’ He snapped, ears red in a strange mix of embarrassment and fury, accompanied by Harry’s howling laughter at Eggsy’s face. Eggsy’d jumped as if electrocuted, sending the book to the floor and accidentally kicking it with a twitching foot so hard that it slammed into the leg of a nearby table, which caused a mug to fall and shatter.

It was the sort of thing film sets contrived to make the audience laugh in an otherwise tense moment- and, in this, Harry was the audience of one. Eggsy’s jaw dropped and Merlin growled to himself and cleaned the mess before turning back to the computer screen he’d been focusing on before Eggsy’s intrusion. Not truly seeing it, just pretending while he tried to pull himself together.

‘You’re tryin’ to tell me that you,’ Eggsy pointed at Merlin, ‘made some shit that accidentally made King Arthur immortal and then fuck knows how much later ended up here where the whole place is themed for King bloody Arthur?’ Eggsy was laughing, having snapped from shock to acceptance in a fraction of a moment, obviously only half speaking to Merlin as Harry’s laughter renewed itself for a moment. Merlin pulled a flask from his desk and poured the contents into a glass before setting it on the table before Eggsy.

‘Not quite, Eggsy,’ Harry breathed, seeming to understand Merlin’s continued silence as a cue to take the story over. ‘You see, I can’t even remember what the elixir was that Merlin sent me off with that day, that journey, so long before there were any real consequences and all we had was a collection of ideas. But, I do remember the traveler’s flask he’d passed to me, filled with water that tasted of sunlight.’ Harry sent a message to Merlin’s lenses, a simply understood ?????, but Merlin ignored him.

‘Not sure I get what you’re saying, Haz.’

‘The water, Eggsy,’ Harry said softly, whether from lack of breath of an attempt to make the facts easier to swallow he couldn’t tell, ‘it wasn’t anything Merlin had concocted, it was the water he’d brought back from the spring. Neither of us had any idea until I lost my temper with him when I got back. I’d pulled a dagger to try and scare Merlin into explaining the devilry he’d managed, and miscalculated-’ I’m not even THERE you arsehole another chat bubble appeared, and Merlin ignored that one as well before feigning outrage.

‘Miscalculated?! You stabbed me in the neck because you tripped-’

‘And nothing happened when the blade pierced his flesh. There was no blood; in fact Merlin didn’t quite know what had happened at first and continued to babble on as if nothing was amiss. Meanwhile I was so frozen in terror I couldn’t breathe which I then discovered I had no need to. Which is an odd thing to adjust to-’

‘You don’t have to breathe?’

‘Let me finish, Eggsy- we’ve spent the years since trying to solve the mystery of the spring- luckily Kingsman has near limitless resources- and the pair of us have made it our business to be masters of illusion in whatever technology develops. Yes,’ Harry interrupted Eggsy’s attempt to speak, ‘that means makeup. And every other kind of theatrical illusion that can be translated to the modern day- manipulating clothing so that others’ gaze is where you intend it to be and nowhere else.’

‘That is sick.’

‘There’s more than one reason to make a covert agency’s cover a tailor’s shop- both historically an excellent place to obtain information surreptitiously and a useful skill to hone when one must be covert.’

‘Which brings me to my next point- how long ago did you find the book, Eggsy? You never let on that something wasn’t sitting right with you.’

‘When I moved in; you shits didn’t so much as make space for me as drag me in like a fuckin’ sarlacc and expect me to make myself at home. Which I did-’ Eggsy panicked to add, seeing the hurt bloom on Merlin’s face at his statement, ‘don’t get me wrong I love that you didn’ even think about it, that you thought I’d fit that seamlessly into your home, but I started explorin’ and you got loads of weird shit hidden about. I thought it was a gag gift at first but it was too good, y’get me? But figured you lot’d tell me when you felt ready- didn’ realise I’d have to prise it from you myself.’

‘We’ve never had someone we wanted to tell before, Eggsy, if this spectacular shitshow doesn’t make that clear.’ Merlin spoke up for the first time in a long while, having finally pulled himself and his decision together. ‘But we were always going to tell you, once we figured out how. We didn’t even have to tell each other, this is literally uncharted territory, but,’ Merlin shook his head and met Eggsy’s gaze evenly, ‘that doesn’t make it undesired.

‘For your average person, a moment like this would have a fancy dinner, some romantic shite and a ring,’ Eggsy didn’t look away from Merlin, didn’t dare to blink, but it was easy to see the moisture welling in his eyes. Even if he was being a bit misleading, the intent here was the same. You’re here, Arthur- here we are, and here he is Merlin sent back, and he could hear Harry’s huff of laughter.

‘What Merlin’s trying to tell you, Eggsy, is that we have no intention of letting you get away from us. We’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of our lives with you.’ Harry whispered, and Eggsy couldn’t stop a tear from escaping though he wiped it away quickly.

‘Don’t you mean the rest of my life?’ His jaw was clenched, and Merlin could see the sad smile pulling at the edge of his mouth. The heartbreak he was causing himself.

‘We do a lot for the world; we risk the things we know others can’t, and we have been glad to do it and are glad to keep doing so- but we’ve allowed ourselves to suffer. We’ve distanced ourselves and made shite choices and we hadn’t even noticed how far we’d fallen from the path until you.

‘So no, Eggsy, we don’t mean the rest of your life-’ Merlin leant forward and pushed the glass across the tabletop, ‘we mean the rest of ours.’ 

Eggsy looked down, seemingly noticing the glass on the tabletop for the first time, and gasped. One hand pressed to his lips while the other twitched in his lap, as if Eggsy was holding himself back from taking it, and Merlin forgot to breathe.

‘... Are you sure?’ Eggsy whispered, having finally pulled his hand from his face as he searched Merlin’s eyes imploringly. As if there was something else mysterious and unseen happening at this moment. As if the rug was going to be pulled from beneath him if he lifted the glass from the table.

‘I can’t claim it will be easy, lad- and there’s no way to undo it. In a few hundred years if we argue, if we break, you’ll have to continue on. Perhaps we’ll find each other again, but maybe not.’

‘You two broke before?’

‘A couple dozen times, easily, but we took a few years apart and came back stronger for it, in the end. But, Eggsy, you’ll have to grow used to seeing the things you care for disappear, or change beyond recognition. It could break you, even if we don’t fall apart.’ Harry whispered, and Merlin watched as Eggsy swallowed heavily, eyes still on the glass, before he reached past it and pulled one of Merlin’s hands forward.

‘You think we can make it, Merthur?’ Eggsy looked up at him from between his lashes, tongue poking out and a cheeky grin breaking through.

‘Who?’

‘Y’know, Merthur, one of them couple names. Merlin and Arthur. Shove a bit of his and a bit of yours in there to get somethin’ new. D’you really think we can make it? Me ‘n you?’

‘Have you ever known me to make a decision without being certain of the outcome?’

‘No, but I still got to ask, yeah? This is big, this ain’t like movin’ in together, or a marriage, even; this is big. And, yeah, it’s gonna be heartbreakin’ at first- havin’ to watch everything go on without me- but,’ Eggsy squeezed Merlin’s hand and rubbed a thumb across his knuckles before he pulled away, ‘I’ve never done shite cos it was easy.’ As if he’d never hesitated in the first place, Eggsy threw back the glass of water with a smile that outshone the full moon on a cloudless sky.

‘Y’know, never thought about it before but Harry- Arthur- was right.’ Eggsy said a moment after, staring at the now-empty glass as he licked his lips.

‘About what?’

‘It does taste like sunlight.’