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legends-of-time · 4 months

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Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 49: His Father's Son

Masterlist

Amelia's POV

They had heard rumours that King Caerleon had seized land that rightfully belongs to Camelot and that there is a small band of his men that are stationed on the land. Arthur had amassed the Knights and their uncle and is going to go confront the men in an effort to reclaim the territory. He'd asked Amelia to come along, to help with negotiations and the battle.

Amelia winces as she watches Merlin, dressed as a Knight, trip over onto the ground then an axe land between his legs. Merlin had offered to act as bait to lure the band of men to the right spot. Amelia really hopes that Merlin doesn't get himself killed in the process or Anne will kill her.

Merlin picks up the axe and runs on straight into the dead end, just as they had planned. Everyone waits just out of sight above the ditch Merlin and his pursuers are in. Merlin turns to face his pursuers, who are now strolling in to meet him and raises the throwing axe.

"Trapped, are we?" The leader of the men remarks smugly

An arrow hits one of the men in the back. Merlin's pursuers look up to find themselves surrounded by Arthur, Amelia, Agravaine and the Knights of Camelot.

Merlin smiles. "That's the idea."

"On me!" Arthur yells.

They all follow, jumping and climbing down to engage the enemy. After the battle, they collect the prisoners and make their way back to their camp. Amelia grimaces as she wipes some blood from her face as she walks along beside Arthur.

"Your Majesty." Agravaine calls out causing them to turn to see him dragging along the leader of the prisoners. "Look what we have here."

"He comes with us. We'll deal with the prisoners when we get back to Camelot." Arthur orders.

"I fear this is no ordinary prisoner, Your Highness." Agravaine pushes the man to the ground and rips the necklace from his neck and hands it to Arthur. Amelia leans around him to have a look and her eyes widen in realisation when she sees what it is.

"Well, well." Arthur murmurs.

"What is it?" Merlin asks.

"This, Merlin, is the royal crest of Caerleon." Amelia tells him.

"Is it not... Your Highness?" Arthur remarks pointedly to their prisoner, King Caerleon.

——

Amelia isn't entirely sure why they're still keeping King Caerleon as a prisoner, that isn't the respect a King deserved since he is a King of a land on the brink of war with Camelot. She feels it should be obvious that they treat him with a bit more care so as not to spur him into more war. Agravaine seems to think differently and has locked him away with the other prisoners under the watch of a few Knights.

"I still think it was a foolish move," Amelia remarks as she gathers in Arthur's tent that night, Merlin standing beside her, Arthur pacing and Agravaine standing with his hand on his sword, watching. "It's not going to help relations to treat the person commanding the armies like that."

"This is not the first time he's trespassed on our lands." Arthur argues.

"No, sire." Agravaine agrees immediately, making Amelia roll her eyes, already feeling a manipulation coming. "Only last week he seized the Village of Stonedown on the western borders."

"We're not on the borders now, Agravaine." Arthur points out. "This is the heart of the Kingdom. He took a grave risk coming here."

"Perhaps he doesn't see it that way. I fear it's no coincidence that all this has happened since Uther's death." Agravaine remarks.

Amelia stiffens at that, seeing it starting, Agravaine is going to twist the situation into making it seem like a play of power.

"What do you mean?" Amelia asks, really hoping that this isn't going to play like she fears it will.

Agravaine merely ignores her and turns to Arthur. "Arthur, your father was a strong king. His enemies feared and respected that strength."

"Are you saying I'm not worthy of that respect?" Arthur demands.

"No, sire, not at all!" Agravaine insists. "There isn't a citizen of Camelot who would not lay down their life for you. But your enemies... to the enemies of Camelot, you are still untested as a King. You must send a clear message that any action against Camelot will be met without mercy."

"I think that's what you did today, Arthur." Amelia looks at him meaningfully.

"But not enough." Agravaine argues. "Not enough to deter the likes of Odin and Bayard and the countless others who covet Camelot's wealth."

"Well, what do you suggest?" Arthur looks at their uncle.

"I suggest..." Agravaine pauses, making it seem like he is struggling to make the recommendation, and Amelia knows it is not going to be a good thing at all. "I suggest that we force him to accept a treaty on our terms. He must withdraw his men from our land, return our territories us. He must surrender Everwick."

"He'd rather die than agree to such terms." Arthur scoffs.

"Then you are left with no choice."

"You can't kill a King in cold blood Arthur." Amelia argues. "That would be war no matter what!"

"Arthur, you must do what you need to do to assert your authority on this land." Agravaine argues.

"No, he doesn't." Amelia counters, glaring at this supposed lump of flesh that's apparently related to her. "And if he does, there's a different way to do it."

"There is no other way." Agravaine sighs and looks at Arthur. "Think on it. Decide by tomorrow."

Amelia glares at the man who merely steps out of the tent. She looks at Arthur and nearly groans under her breath. He has his deep face on, the deep thought face that means no matter what she says at this moment, he'll be practically deaf to her.

——

"Arthur?" Amelia moves to sit beside him in his tent that night. She had glanced in on her way to bed only to see him sitting in a chair, staring ahead of him, still in thought. She leans over and picks up a small blanket, turning to drape it over his shoulders, startling him out of his thoughts.

"Amelia?" He blinks at her.

Amelia smiles. "Let me guess, you're not going to sleep a wink, are you?"

Arthur sighs and rubs his face. "I've got too much to think on."

"About what Agravaine suggested?" She guesses and he nods. She looks at the entrance of the tent, she can see Agravaine speaking to a Guard on watch a few feet away, the man glancing in at them sitting there. Even while the rest of the camp settles for the night, the man is awake. "Well, I can tell you right now, I don't think you should do it."

"My father was a great King Amelia, but I don't have his wisdom or his conviction." Arthur remarks. Amelia internally pulls a face at that. "I can only follow his example and do what he would've done."

"You're not your father though." Amelia argues. "You're a better man than he is. Please tell me you mean only to request a treaty."

"I have to show my strength. Show that I'm worthy of my father's name." Arthur argues.

"And that means killing him if he refuses?" Amelia shakes her head at him.

"Caerleon will have brought it upon himself."

"Do you hear yourself?" Amelia stares at him. "Arthur, the thing your Knights, your people admire most about you is your mercy and respect in battle. You wouldn't ever do this, never. This isn't who you are. This is who Uther was." Please don't let what she did be for nothing.

"You have no idea what it is to make these decisions." Arthur argues. "Decisions that will shape the future of this land."

"Right." Amelia nods sarcastically. "It's not like I've been sitting in on Council meetings since I could speak and have been helping you run this Kingdom." She gives him a look. "This isn't you, Arthur!" She looks over to where Agravaine still stands and the words are slipping out of her mouth before she can stop them, "Perhaps someone is influencing you."

Arthur follows her gaze, and he then looks sharply back over at Amelia. "What are you implying?"

Amelia sucks in a breath. "I'm just saying that it's no secret that since Agravaine has come to stay in Camelot, you haven't exactly been... yourself."

"You are not my Queen, Amelia!" Arthur yells, then lowers his voice because other people are settling down or sleeping. "And Agravaine is my uncle. I won't have you insulting him just because of some crazy theory that your brain has cooked up."

He might as well have slapped her in the face. He just implied that Amelia isn't a part of his family. She blinks back tears, and she feels that awful lump in your throat when you're trying not to cry form. "Our uncle, but I understand." Amelia nods. "I'm just a bastard. Doesn't matter what I think, does it?" Amelia stands.

Arthur's eyes are wide with panic, now realising what he's said but it's too late. "Amelia—"

"I have only three things to say to you Arthur, and then I am leaving because if I stay a moment longer than that... I will kill you, cousin or not." Amelia declares. "First... you've left me in charge of the Kingdom before and it is still standing, it was you who had the faith that I could do this. Second, you listen to those who do not know what is happening instead of those who do. Agravaine has been in the Kingdom for how long? He doesn't know what our relations are with other Kingdoms and realms are. Yet you put more faith in what he had to say than me. And third think for a moment about how many times me and Merlin have been right."

With that, she storms off.

——

They all assemble and Agravaine presents King Caerleon with the treaty scroll. Amelia glares at her uncle as she watches.

"What is this?" Caerleon asks, not taking the scroll. Agravaine hands it to Sir Leon, who opens it. Caerleon scoffs. "You expect me to sign this? To humiliate myself before you?"

"You invaded our Kingdom and took what did not belong to you." Agravaine retorts.

"And if I do not sign?"

"Then you will pay, with your life!"

Caerleon scoffs. "And who makes these terms?"

"Arthur Pendragon." Arthur walks forward. "King of Camelot."

Caerleon pushes Leon's arm aside and steps forward. "Very well." Percival moves forward, trying to grab the King's arm but Caerleon shoves him off. "Then make it quick!" Caerleon kneels.

"Think what you're doing, Caerleon." Arthur warns. "This treaty could seal a truce between us. There would be peace. Like there was between your father and mine."

Amelia internally scoffs at this. How dare he act like he's in the right here!

"I am not my father, and you are not Uther! Do you really have the guts to kill me?" Caerleon questions.

"You leave me no choice."

"You do not choose anything, boy. It is I who choose to die, and I alone. Now, get on with it." Caerleon bows his head down to Arthur to give him clear aim at his neck.

"So be it."

Amelia sees Agravaine smirk and her glare hardens. As Arthur draws his sword, he makes eye contact with Amelia. In an act of clear defiance, she raises her head at him with the glare still on her face and turns around so that she won't have to witness the final act that will bring destruction upon the Kingdom and, in turn, turning her back on Arthur.

Amelia hears the sound of the sword cutting through the air, the sound of the blade hitting flesh, and then the sound of a head and a body dropping to the ground separately.

Amelia closes her eyes as she tries not to cry.

War is coming to Camelot.

——

Amelia completely ignores Arthur all the way back home. She ignores his attempts at talking to her and it was like Arthur Pendragon didn't exist. And he doesn't, at least, not the one that Amelia had known.

A couple of days later, a messenger arrives at Camelot. An army led by Caerleon's Queen, Queen Annis, was seen crossing Camelot's border at first light. When this is announced in the Council Chambers, Amelia simply raises an eyebrow in Arthur's direction and Arthur looks down. Both of them know she means to say, "I told you so."

The Council convenes to plan their next move.

They all listen as Arthur speaks, "At a forced march, Caerleon's men will reach Camelot by sundown tomorrow, which means we have no choice. We must intercept them before they reach the ridge of Landshire. That way, we hold the high ground. The Knights of Camelot make ready as I speak. We ride at dawn."

"Long live the King!" Agravaine starts the cry.

"Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!"

Amelia remains tight-lipped and looks on unhappily.

——

Amelia is in her Chambers later that day, reading through some documents when there is a knock at the door.

"Enter." She calls out, not even bothering to look up from her papers.

The door opens, and Amelia doesn't look up to see who it is until the person is standing at her desk. When she does, Amelia is surprised to see Arthur. He looks tense and uncomfortable as he stands in front of her withering glare.

Amelia drops her quill and leans back in her seat for a second before standing up. She doesn't break eye contact with him as she picks up the ends of her skirts and drops into a curtsy. "Your Majesty." Amelia says coldly, finally breaking eye contact only so that she can bow.

"That isn't necessary, Amelia." Arthur says as she stands back up.

Amelia raises an eyebrow. "Is it not?" She wonders. "I am, after all, just another member of the Court."

Arthur doesn't even attempt a response to that. Instead, he looks around at her Chambers. Amelia watches him take in the lack of packed supplies. He looks back over at her. "Are you not coming?"

"I cannot participate in a war that the King could have prevented." Amelia replies sternly.

"Amelia..." Arthur starts. "I had no choice."

"Are you completely out of your mind?!" Amelia snaps, breaking from her calm and calculated appearance.

"A show of strength was necessary."

Amelia scoffs. "More like brutality." She crosses her arms and glares at him.

"An example had to be made for the good of the Kingdom." Arthur argues.

"Oh yes, and what a fine one it sent to everyone, that their King will slaughter those who don't agree with him. How does that make you better than Uther?!" Amelia cries.

Arthur glares at her. "My father didn't slaughter those who disagreed with him."

"Oh no? What about the Druids? What about any magic user in general who believed magic should be used for good but because your father didn't agree, he slaughtered them? What about those not magical at all but Uther didn't care and condemned them anyway?" Amelia rants.

"Magic was a blight on the Kingdom, father was protecting his people." Arthur persists.

"And you've followed just perfectly in his footsteps in that." Amelia says sarcastically. "His actions led to more than 20 years of those with magic attacking to avenge their families. Now you've brought more war to this Kingdom as Queen Annis aims to avenge her husband."

Arthur's shoulders sag and he looks like he has aged one hundred years in the last few days. "I need you there, Amelia." He tries in a last ditch effort.

Amelia scoffs. "Then tell me this. Why did you side with Agravaine?" Amelia questions. "Why, when you knew that what I was saying was right and what he was saying was wrong? Agravaine, who has only ever seen you a few times in the past decade. Agravaine, who knows nothing about you. Agravaine, who is changing you." His eyes look down as Amelia continues. "Over me, who has grown up by your side. Me, who knows how you fight on the battlefield. Me, who can read your mind without you having to speak any words. Me, who knows what's in your heart better than you do."

Arthur has no answer for that and has the decency to look ashamed. Amelia nods at the heavy silence that hung in the air. She looks away from him as she sits back down and picks up her quill. "You should get some rest. You have a long day ahead of you, your Majesty." Amelia goes back to work, which is a sign of dismissal.

Arthur stands there for a few seconds, obviously debating if he should say anything else, but he finally just turns around and leaves. Once the door is shut behind him, Amelia deflates and wipes away the tear that has escaped her eye.

The doors open and in walks Percival. "Why did Arthur look like he was about to cry?" He asks as he walks over to where Amelia is sitting.

"I had a talk with the King." Amelia responds. "He didn't like what I had to say."

"You cannot be mad at Arthur forever." Percival points out.

Amelia rolls her eyes, knowing he is right but she isn't going to let go yet. "I certainly can." Amelia responds. "You didn't hear the way he spoke to me, Percival. Like... like I was just another Court member who was beneath him. Like... like what I had to say meant nothing. Like he's never left his Kingdom to me before. Like I didn't know what I was doing!" Amelia looks over at him. "He implied that I wasn't a part of his family."

"You know that's not what he meant." Percival says as he puts his hand on her shoulder and gives it a comforting squeeze.

"Well, that's what it sounded like." Amelia retorts. "Like Agravaine had more importance than I did. And Agravaine's not even helping Arthur! He's betraying him!" Amelia stands up so that she can face Percival fully.

"We know that but you saw how Arthur reacted when you simply implied that Agravaine was just changing the way he thought. If you said all that stuff to him, accusations that are serious crimes, who knows what he will do?" Percival argues logically.

Amelia sighs as she drops back into her chair. "That's true. I don't know what to do, Percival."

"Well, I know one thing you could do." Percival says as he turns the chair so that Amelia is facing him instead of the desk. "Come with us tomorrow."

Amelia gives him a look. "You know—"

"That you can't, morally." Percival finishes. "I know. But your counsel does matter to Arthur, whether you can see that or not."

When Amelia hesitates, Percival reaches out and grabs her face, cradling her head in his hands. "Think of it this way: you'll be going to protect the people of Camelot. The people of a Kingdom that you love. Plus," he leans over and presses a kiss to the crown of her head. "I need you there. So does Merlin even if it's only to keep an eye on him for Anne's sake."

Amelia huffs as she realises that he has her. "Fine. I'll come."

——

Amelia's mood isn't improved when she finds out the next morning that Arthur had broken up with Gwen when the maid comes to Amelia in tears. Arthur has suddenly broken it off with her because she's not 'appropriate'. Amelia had wanted to go to Arthur and smack him but Gwen had insisted to let it be though she shares Amelia's concerns he hadn't made this decision by himself. A certain someone has again influenced him.

When Amelia comes walking out of the Castle shortly afterwards, towards her horse, Arthur looks at her in surprise but Amelia doesn't look at him as she brings her horse over to where he's standing.

She doesn't look over at him, but Arthur starts, "Amelia—"

"I am not here for you, Your Majesty." Amelia tells him shortly. "I have not forgotten that the reason that we are even standing here today is because of a mistake made on your part. The only reason that I am coming is because Percival managed to remind me that while my quarrel is with you, I still love and care about the people of Camelot, and I should not be punishing them."

With that, Amelia continues forward and starts preparing her horse for riding. Once he is ready, she climbs onto the saddle and follows dutifully behind Arthur and beside Merlin. She glances back and Percival gives her an encouraging smile. She sighs and faces forward, preparing for the travelling ahead.

They reach the Ridge of Landshire just before nightfall and prepare dinner. Amelia sits next to Percival, leaning into his side, along with Merlin and the rest of the Knights as they eat. Amelia tries not to worry about tomorrow, about what'll happen to her friends but she knows she must savour every moment.

They all laugh and joke. Merlin makes a remark that leads to Leon tussling his hair causing Merlin to fake pout as if annoyed and they all chuckle.

Merlin then looks up and his smile fades slightly. This causes everyone to look over to see it's Arthur at the entrance of his tent, watching them. Amelia can see the longing look on his face before he realises he's caught.

"We should all get some sleep." Arthur tries to cover then turns back into his tent.

"Is he all right?" Gwaine questions.

Merlin shrugs. "He's our King. If anything were to happen to any of us, he'll hold himself responsible."

Amelia purses her lips at that. She wonders if that's the case anymore.

——

Arthur is a complete idiot, and Amelia is feeling like a complete idiot for not having realised what he was going to do. He'd snuck out in the middle of the night and into Annis's camp to try and reason with the Queen himself. He'd gotten a slap for it, which served him right, but he'd pleaded with her about how ashamed he is of what he'd done to her, how cowardly it was, how unjust and how deeply sorry he was for his actions. She'd not bent to that as words did nothing to bring her husband back to her nor return her people's King.

Arthur had proposed an alternative to battle though. He'd invoked the right of single combat, one champion selected from each side to face each other alone. All of it done with the hope to spare more lives, which had seemed to touch the Queen only slightly. If Camelot's champion won, Annis will withdraw her army, and if her champion won... half of Camelot will be hers.

"But, sire, we can win this battle. I know we can." Leon argues as they all gather.

"I don't doubt it. But at what cost? How many men will be slaughtered?" Amelia feels her frosty feelings towards Arthur begin to defrost slightly at his words. That's the Arthur she knows and loves.

"And what if we were to lose this trial? We can't give up our land." Elyan worries.

"That's the deal I've struck. I believe it to be fair, and I'll stand by it." Arthur counters.

"Well, then. All that remains, my lord, is for you to choose your champion." Agravaine declares. And so, Amelia is reminded of the reason why she's mad at Arthur right now. Their conniving uncle.

The Knights all step forward, pledging their readiness to take the fight.

"There can only be one choice. One choice which is just and honourable. This fight's mine." Arthur declares.

None look pleased by this, but they can't object to their King. Agravaine is very pleased, smirking. Amelia glares at her uncle. Now while Amelia is mad at Arthur, she doesn't want him to die and is upset and angry that he's now put himself in this situation.

——

It's a new day and Amelia anxiously watches as Merlin finishes putting the armour on Arthur in the King's tent. She is still very upset that he'd ignored her, that he'd treated her like a subordinate, like a subject. But right now, he is about to face an army on his own for the sake of the Kingdom

Merlin pulls particularly hard on one of the straps causing Arthur to groan, "Not too tight, Merlin, you don't want to kill me before I've even started."

"Sorry." Merlin chuckles, sounding as if he's trying to hold back tears.

"Amelia." Arthur reaches out to take her hand, which is shaking, holding it. "If this day should prove to be my last... I want you to know that I am truly, deeply sorry. You know that's not what I meant that day." Arthur insists. "I just meant that I didn't like you insulting our uncle." He drops her hand. "You've always been a sister to me, more so than my real sister. You know that. I was just..." He sighs. "Scared. I've been scared out of my mind. And seeing the distrust and hatred in your eyes for me has been like being stabbed with my own sword. I couldn't stand the fact that you were against me on something. It made me worried that—" He cuts himself off.

"That I would realise the mistake that I made in siding with you and return to Morgana." Amelia finishes, knowing he can't bring himself to say the words out loud. Arthur gives her a minute nod. "I turned my back on both of my sisters for you because blood doesn't make family, Arthur. Relationships do. Trust does. There are some family members that we cannot choose, but others that we can. And I choose you. My cousin, my irritating little brother."

Now, Arthur isn't a man to cry very often, but he looks like he is going to burst into tears as he reaches forward and pulls Amelia into a hug. She hugs him back as tightly as possible.

"I choose you too, Amelia." Arthur says as they pull apart. She gives him a watery smile. He takes off his left glove and pulls off his ring, turning to Merlin as well. "And to also, give this to Guinevere." Arthur hands Merlin the ring. Merlin looks up sharply. "Tell her I'm sorry."

Merlin nods. "Of course." Arthur puts his glove back on.

"Arthur, do you really think this is worth the risk?" Amelia questions. "You're King now. Camelot needs you. Alive."

"I don't know what will happen." Arthur admits. "But for the first time since I became King, I know in my heart I've made the right decision. I know that if anything happens to me, you'll be there to look after our people." He smiles.

"Well, whatever happens out there...erm..." Merlin struggles to say, looking away as if to control his emotions.

"You're not about to start crying on me, are you?" Arthur remarks in his usual Arthur way, breaking some of the tension.

"No. Just, er, good luck." They smile at each other. Amelia watches them with a smile.

"Thank you, old friend." Arthur replies. They shake hands and like a bad smell, Agravaine enters, interrupting the sweet moments the three of them are sharing.

"It is time, my lord."

"Very well." Arthur doesn't move.

"Is all in readiness?"

"Merlin?" Arthur stands for Merlin's inspection.

Merlin swallows and nods. "Ready."

Arthur nods and draws his sword. Amelia doesn't like the smile on Agravaine's face as Arthur inspects it.

Arthur and Agravaine exit and Amelia watches after them worriedly before following along with Merlin.

——

The armies of Camelot and Caerleon face each other. The former on the ridge and the latter in the valley below. Derían, Annis' champion, a big brute of a man, and Arthur walk to the centre of the gap. Derían bares his teeth when they meet in the middle and Amelia knows Arthur is likely trying not to grimace.

Amelia's eyes flicker to the opposing army and quickly locate Annis amongst them but it's her companion next to her that causes Amelia to freeze. Despite the long year and the great change that has happened, Amelia can recognise the face of her older half sister any day. Amelia knows this isn't good if Morgana is assisting Annis.

The fight begins. While Derían is large and strong, Arthur is small and swift, able to dodge his heavy blows while delivering some of his own. Eventually, Derían is able to knock Arthur to his knees and is ready to deliver another blow when Arthur rolls away and slices Derían's cheek. Derían checks for blood and howls, enraged.

After a few more blows, Arthur's sword suddenly drops like lead behind him and is unable to lift it. Amelia's eyes widen in panic, she glances over at Morgana's location again, feeling a pull of magic from her, knowing a smirk is likely gracing her sister's lips. Derían swings and misses on the down sweep then Arthur punches Derían's face and gets caught on the upsweep of Derían's sword. He cries out in pain and tries to lift his sword again. Amelia wishes he'd just leave it and get out of the way. Amelia glances at Merlin as Derían begins to strike and sees when his eyes glow causing Derían to freeze mid-swing.

Arthur finally leaves his sword and rams his shoulder into Derían, knocking him over and falling. Derían gets up first and kicks Arthur over. As Arthur lies almost helpless, Derían picks up his sword and raises it over his head.

"Ecg ætstande!" Amelia hisses and the sword drops out of Derían's hands into the ground behind him and he freezes.

Arthur rolls up behind Derían, grabs the sword and slices across Derían's back. The giant falls to his knees and Arthur kicks him down. Arthur is poised to strike but he looks up at his men on the ridge. Amelia looks on tensely. Arthur looks down at his fallen enemy and runs the sword into the ground by Derían's head. Amelia slumps in relief as the army around her bursts out cheering.

"Long live the King!" Percival cries, pulling Amelia into his arms and shaking her in excitement causing her to let out a laugh.

"Long live the King!" Leon echoes.

The rest of the army joins in on the call, "Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!"

——

Annis approaches Arthur not long after Amelia had reached him and given him a hug in relief.

"You are victorious, Arthur Pendragon." The Queen states, coming to stand in front of them. "And you may rest assured that I shall comply absolutely with the terms of our agreement. My army will be gone by nightfall."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Annis holds out her hand and Arthur grasps it before they both let go. She then turns to Amelia. "And you must be the famous Lady Amelia."

Amelia smiles confusedly. "Your Highness?"

"You are different from what I expected but not disappointing. I see that you've made a choice you believe in." Annis declares.

Amelia stares back at her in surprise but realises she shouldn't be as Morgana has obviously talked about her.

Annis turns back to Arthur. "Tell me something. You spared my champion. Why?"

"Because it's not victory, I seek. It is peace." Arthur replies. "I hope that today will mark a new beginning for our Kingdoms."

Amelia smiles at him proudly.

"There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon. Something which gives me hope for us all." Annis declares. She considers him for a moment then turns to leave.

——

Amelia is happy with the outcome and that she and Arthur have mended her friendship. She's made even happier when Arthur pauses to pick some flowers for Gwen on their journey home.

They're greeted with bells ringing, streamers hanging, flags waving and cheering crowds as they all return to Camelot triumphant.

"You're a hero." Merlin remarks to Arthur as they enter the Main Square.

"Thank you, Merlin." Arthur replies.

Merlin and Amelia share a grin and the former adds, "Not to me. To your people."

"Right. You think different?" Arthur asks resignedly, probably now realising it isn't a compliment.

Amelia shrugs with a smile. "Maybe we know something they don't."

"Which is?"

"You know, that you're a cabbage head." Merlin remarks.

"Or a beetle brain." Amelia adds with a giggle.

Merlin laughs. "Cone head?"

Merlin and Amelia snigger as Arthur rolls his eyes at them. He dismounts, grumbling as Amelia and Merlin laugh behind him.

The Courtiers applaud as Arthur climbs the steps into the Castle.

——

A/N: I realised after writing this that Anne has no speaking lines 😅

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

Chapter 50 is next!

#bbc merlin #merlin

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mca-attack21 · 3 years

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Damsel in Distress part I

This is a two part Arthur Pendragon x Reader based on the season two episode four of the show. Enjoy! Also you can find more of my writing here: Masterlist

Merlin woke up to a feeling of foreboding. There was something in the air that made his stomach turn with dread. As he prepared to go wake his clotpole of a master, he tried to push this feeling out of the forefront of his mind. But even as he made it down to the kitchen there was this sense of apprehension in the air. He hoped that he would run into you somewhere in the halls and that you would be able to set his mind at ease. He however was not so fortunate.

Instead, he trudged onward, setting Arthur’s food down and opening his curtains before declaring a half-hearted, “Rise and Shine” before quickly gathering some of his clothes to be washed. Arthur didn’t even have time to come up with a jest before Merlin was out of the door. Merlin busied himself, quickly polishing Arthur’s armor and completing other daily chores. He mentally prepared himself to deal with the prince as returned to his door.

“Ah, there you are, I was beginning to think you were avoiding your duties. And what’s this?” he asked, watching as Merlin laid everything out, “You’re actually doing your job for once? Are you feeling alright?” Arthur joked.

His smile soon turned to a frown as Merlin ignored his comments. He shrugged it off and allowed Merlin to help him dress and put on his armor. While Arthur was looking over some papers on his table he noticed that Merlin had already made his bed and was starting to take the dishes from the table.

“Merlin, clearly something is upsetting you,” Arthur pointed out.

“It’s nothing sire, do you need anything else?” Merlin asked with his back against the door.

“No, that will be all,” Arthur dismissed, sending a concerned glance towards his friend as he exited.

Merlin took leave and went back to his chambers to help Gaius. He tried to occupy his mind, but nothing he did seemed to ease that burning pit in his stomach. Something had happened, was happening, or was about to happen, he could feel it.

Somewhat abruptly, he decided that he needed to see you. He went to seek out Morgana, as you were filling in for Gwen while she was taking care of her brother. He knew that wherever Morgana was, you wouldn’t be far away.

It was in his search that he saw a few of the knights rushing for an audience with the king. Something had happened. Merlin followed at a close distance and listened in.

“As you know Sire Morgana, her maid, and a few knights rode for a pilgrimage to her father’s grave early this morning. They were meant to be back by now, but there is no word or sign of them. That was until one of the patrols came across one of the knight’s horses. I am afraid something went wrong..”

“Send men out immediately. Arthur, you will lead the search, do whatever you must to bring her home,” the King ordered concerned for his young ward.

“Of course father,” Arthur answered before hastily making an exit. Merlin was right on his heels, and left to prepare their horses.

---

The mercenaries had both you and Morgana in a tent with a guard posted right outside the doors. The two of you had come up with a plan, it was risky at best. However you were both aware of the fact that the further away from Camelot you traveled, the less likely you were to ever see it again.

“Are you ready for this?” Morgana asked, preparing herself.

“As ready as I’ll ever be”

She was about to step forward when you grabbed her arm, “No matter what happens, I want you to take any opportunity you get. Don’t worry about me. Promise.”

“There is no way I’m leaving without you.”

“Morgana, you have to promise me. I cannot bear the risk otherwise.”

“I promise, but only as long as you promise me the same. We take any opportunity we get.”

With that, the plan was in motion. Morgana demanded that she be allowed to bathe and you both were escorted to the river by two of the men. You took the distraction of her undressing to manage to disarm one of the men and tossed Morgana the sword just in time for her to take out the other. The two of you started running back towards the castle, but there was another mercenary that intercepted you. Being as you were the one with the sword you opted to fight him, thankful for the many hours you had spent training with Arthur when you were younger. Morgana turned back to help you.

“Go, I will be right behind you!” you shouted, watching her hesitate, “Morgana go! Now!”

She turned and ran only looking back when she heard your scream in the distance. She quickly picked up her pace again and ran without looking back. She pushed through the aching in her muscles until she was faced with a crossbow aimed at her face. Relief filling her features as soon as she saw its holder.

“Where’s Y/n?” Arthur asked immediately.

Morgana merely shook her head and Arthur turned before his face could give him away. Merlin pushed down his own feelings and went to Morgana to make sure she was okay and offer her water and food. They set off immediately for the castle and soon came the reunion between Uther and Morgana. She begged him to send out another search party for you, after all you had saved her life.

“I am not going to waste the time and resources on a servant girl who has most likely already been executed as she provides no worth to the mercenaries without you,” he explained to Morgana. The words cut Arthur deeper than any sword ever had.

“Please, there is still a chance. Arthur?” she turned towards him hoping he would take her side.

“I’m sorry Morgana, father is right” Arthur managed before turning and exiting a very angry Merlin on his heels.

“How could you say that? How could you possibly agree with him after everything that you and Y/n have been through? I knew you were a clotpole, but this, this is unforgivable!” Merlin all but shouted.

“Merlin Shut Up!” Arthur raised his volume before regaining his composure as he entered his chambers, “Of course I don’t agree with father, but there was no point in making a scene about it. We will pack and leave at first light. We will find her, one way or another.”

Merlin was speechless for a moment, before uttering an apology for overreacting before. He was then quick to leave and make the preparations for the next day as it was already early night.

The next morning he was surprised to see that Arthur had managed to not only wake himself up, but dress himself. He was looking over maps as Merlin entered. Soon the two of them were off on their quest to save the damsel in distress. The rode for the better part of the day before coming to a caves that were inhabited by wilddeoren. As they made it through the other side Arthur let out a breath he hadn’t even known he was holding, “I can’t believe the Gaia berries actually worked.”

“Hold up, you mean to tell me that you didn’t know that they would work before you lead us in a cave with giant flesh eating rats!”

“I mean not for sure, I heard stories, but I figured we’d find out one way or another.”

“Now you tell me?! Oh! Oh, what's that wilddeoren eating? It's all right. It's just Merlin. You trying to get us both killed?”

“I'm sorry. I shouldn't've risked your life like that,” Arthur said a new hint of seriousness in his voice.

“I didn’t realize that even the great Arthur Pendragon could fall victim to the blindness of love,” Merlin joked.

“What in the world are you going on about?

“Your feelings for Y/n. Why can’t you admit that you like her? I mean you are risking your life and even your father’s wrath just for a one in a hundred chance of rescuing her.

Arthur scoffed rolling his eyes, “She is just a friend, I’d do the same for you. In fact I seem to remember disobeying my father before in order to get you an antidote when you decided to get a few days off my drinking out of a poisoned chalice.”

“That was different and you know it. Besides, anyone who has ever seen the two of you together can pick up on it. Why is it so hard to admit you like her? It’s only me, just say it,” Merlin encouraged.

“I can't! How can I admit that I think about her all the time. Or that...I care about her more than anyone. How can I admit that...I don't know what I'll do if any harm comes to her?” Arthur confessed struggling to keep his emotion in check.

“Why can't you?”

“Because nothing can ever happen between us! To admit my feelings knowing that...hurts too much.”

“Who's to say nothing can happen?”

“My father won't let me rescue a servant. Do you honestly believe he'd let me marry one?”

“You want to marry Y/n?”

“No! I mean maybe someday...I...I don't know...Regardless, it's all talk, and that's all it can ever be.”

“When you're King, you can change that. If she feels the same way, she would wait for you.”

“I can't expect her to do that, it’s not fair to her. Besides, we don’t even know if she’s alive,” he said regretting the words even as they left his mouth because they caused his stomach to drop.

“I’m sure she’s fine Arthur. She knows that you’ll come for her and that hope will keep her alive.”

The words seemed to offer Arthur some comfort, “Come on. We've got a long trek ahead. Oh, and Merlin...if you dare tell anyone about this, I promise I will make your life a living hell.”

“You mean more than you do now?” Merlin joked, earning a playful smack from his friend.

#bbc merlin x reader #bbc merlin imagine #bbc merlin imagines #merlin bbc #merlin imagine #merlin imagines #king arthur x reader #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon imagine #arthur pendragon imagines

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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years

Note

Hi there! I hope you’re well. I just wanted to send a message to thank you for the elyan content 😍 he is my favourite knight but for some reason I never see much of him on tumblr! So it’s awesome to see him on your blog. I hope I didn’t bother you with this ask 🙈

I AM doing well, actually! And you didn’t bother me, asks will probably never bother me <3

I could go on for a million years about why no one makes content about Elyan - and sometimes forget he exists altogether - but I don’t wanna start drama so we’ll just. Not touch that topic with a 10-foot pole

BUT! Elyan IS a fantastic knight, and the fact that he is your favourite knight too is very iconic and sexy of you. Elyan fans/stans are the sexiest members of this fandom. That’s not even opinion, that’s just science

So! Here’s a list of Elyan headcanons, because he’s worth it:

Elyan is ace. Them’s the facts

He’s also gay but in that stage where he’s questioning if he might be bi. Unfortunately, he died before reaching an answer

I hate to talk about Hogwarts Houses in 2020, but he is one hell of a Hufflepuff. Elyan is his name and protecting his loved ones with life and limb is his game. It is very easy to earn his loyalty, and once you have he will ride straight through Hell for you

Elyan likes hoods. He wears hoods whenever he can (i mean c’mon, that outfit in season 3 was serving some killer looks)

He’s just a protective older brother to literally everyone in Camelot. Yes, even Gaius

Gwen, Elyan, Leon, and Merlin have family game night once every month. They all gather in their old house in the lower town to get drunk, play some dice games, and spend the whole night goofing off

Only a few people know about game night. Even fewer people have seen it with their own eyes. Arthur and Gwaine frequently try to sneak in to see game night for themselves, but somehow never succeed

Elyan loves swimming. They don’t get many chances for it, but whenever they do, Elyan is the best swimmer out of all the knights

He’s also like. Really good at sneaking up on people. Consistently rolls high on stealth checks

Out of everyone in the Round Table, Elyan is the most easily spooked. He hates it when they gather around the fire to tell ghost stories, bc he will NOT be able to sleep the rest of the night after that

Why do people think there’s no dynamic or chemistry between Elyan and Gwaine??? Those two had a SOLID friendship and I will not stand for this disrespect (also, Perelyan is good but Elyaine is godtier imo)

Elyan is bad at blacksmithing. Like really bad. No one even understands how that works, considering he spent his whole childhood training under his father. All the blacksmithing talent apparently went to Gwen somehow

He likes bugs. When he was a kid he would go out in the woods and collect beetles and stuff to stick in little terrarium jars. He’d even give them names and backstories and personalities. Sometimes he would sit under a tree and tell Gwen stories about all these adventures his bugs would go on when no one was looking

Leon HATED bugs, and got creeped out by them, which meant Elyan was legally obligated to harass him about it

Elyan doesn’t get much chance to catch bugs anymore, but he’s also the only member of the Round Table who can put up with spiders

Spider in the armory? Everyone is freaking out while Elyan just calmly picks it up and lets it outside - but not without lots of snark and eye-rolling, of course

The reason Elyan ran away from home was because his mother had died and he saw it as a personal failing. He felt that it was his fault she was dead, because he couldn’t protect her, and left Camelot because he couldn’t bear the shame of guilt

In the last few years of his time away from Camelot, Elyan fell in love and lived out an mlm cottagecore fantasy where he and his lover raised wyverns together. But when Morgause came to capture him, she killed his lover and burnt their wyvern farm to the ground

Elyan tries not to let his grief be known, though. Not just because he doesn’t want to burden Gwen with his pain, but also because his lover had magic and he could get arrested for having fallen in love with a sorcerer

Morgause had Elyan captive for a while before Gwen showed up. She even used the nathair on him in small increments; not long enough to kill him or damage him irreparably, but enough to make him suffer. It’s for this reason that Elyan was able to bounce back from being tortured by Morgana whereas Gwaine didn’t survive it, because Morgause had already microdosed him with that kind of pain two years ealier

Still traumatizing, though. Like. This boy is EXTREMELY traumatized, can someone please get him some therapy???

Moving back to Camelot with Gwen was simultaneously healing and harming. Healing, because he visited his dad’s grave, rebuilt his relationship with Gwen, and his companionship with her, Merlin, and Leon helped him move on from the pain of his loss. But harming because of all the anti-magic prejudice that surrounded him, and every time someone said magic was evil it was like another dagger in his heart. That was his dead lover they were talking about and calling a monster. Someone who was kind and compassionate and funny, who didn’t have a lick of evil in them, who would have burned at the stake by Camelot’s laws

Elyan didn’t think about what it meant to be a knight of Camelot when he agreed to be knighted. But he was just so determined to fight and kill Morgause, the woman who had killed his lover and his wyverns and abducted him from his home, that he didn’t even think about it. He just wanted Morgause dead. It wasn’t until a few days later when he realized that being a knight of Camelot meant enforcing Camelot’s anti-magic laws, and this realization naturally caused him distress

Instead of abandoning his knighthood, Elyan found a compromise. He would support Arthur in everything, until magic got involved. If Arthur ever captured druids or put sorcerers to death, Elyan decided he would smuggle them out of the city. He would never actively kill or capture those with magic, and would sometimes even try to sabotage efforts in capturing harmless magic-users

Elyan knew full well what Dragoon was doing. He knew that Gwen and Arthur’s love was true and required no enchantment, meaning Dragoon had simply framed himself to get Gwen out of a jam. He appreciates Dragoon, and even though he supposedly killed Uther, Elyan can’t even fault him for that. Elyan wanted to kill Uther too

Merlin is the little brother Elyan always wanted, and Elyan is the older brother Merlin never had. They act so much like siblings it’s not even funny, and some people question if they were actually raised together

He and Merlin like to team up and tease Gwen. They’ll walk behind her and chant stuff like “Gwen and Arthur sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G”. They’re like children, and it’s both very funny and very annoying

Gwen gets her revenge, of course. She always gets her revenge

They also team up to be like. Super protective of Gwen. The vetting process Arthur had to go through - between Elyan, Leon, AND Merlin - in order to date Gwen was ridiculous

Arthur: Merlin I’m literally your boss. Your friend. You've been my personal manservant for like six years now

Merlin: Yeah, which means I know exactly how much of a dick you are

After being possessed by the druid ghost, Elyan is a lot more in tune with the supernatural

Am I suggesting that Elyan can now see, talk to, and interact with ghosts, and even starts a little agency where he goes around helping them complete their unfinished business? Why yes, yes I am

When Gwen was banished, Elyan wanted to go with her. But she asked him to stay behind and keep an eye on Agravaine, as she suspected him of treachery, and to stop him from taking over Camelot should Agravaine make a move. And, well, Elyan has never been able to say no to his sister

Elyan and Merlin decided to try and find a way to prove Gwen’s innocence. There’s no way she was acting of her own accord, after all. There was some kind of enchantment at play, there had to be. Merlin doesn’t tell him about Shade!Lancelot directly, but does propose it as a theory regarding how Lancelot had come back from the dead. Elyan supports the theory 100%

About two months after the wedding, Merlin and Elyan locate the enchanted bracelet, and Gwen and Lancelot’s names are finally cleared

In Avalon, Elyan, Freya, and Lancelot spend the whole time watching/narrating the events of season 5 like sports commentators. They are all mutually exasperated at Merlin’s antics

When Arthur shows up in Avalon, the only reason Elyan doesn’t punch him in the face is because he’s too busy restraining Lance from doing the same

He does, however, give him a strong talking-to about how “all your magic and you still can’t save my life” is a horrible thing to say actually

Lancelot, however, is more upset about the “I guess I was wrong” speech

Gwaine shows up in Avalon like. SUPER traumatized. He died while being tortured by a nathair, died in a way that he perceived to be failure, and he’s kinda messed up because of that. Elyan, who has already had a few years to cope with nathair torture, is the one who helps Gwaine heal from his trauma

In the 21st century, Elyan gets reincarnated along with everyone else. His childhood is plagued with weird dreams, dreams that terrify him. Snakes and pain, wyverns and fire, all of it. He meets an old man who calls himself Merlin, who helps Elyan through the pain of remembering his past life. For once, Elyan gets to be taken care of instead of the other way around. For once, he is allowed to be vulnerable and weak and struggling. He doesn’t hide his tears. He gets the help he needs and works through his trauma

And one day, many years later, he is walking down the street when he sees someone who looks oddly familiar. The face of an old lover, perhaps

Thanks for the ask! <3

#Merlin Fandom Stop Forgetting About Elyan Challenge #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #bbcm #ask #fish post

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emachinescat · 3 years

Text

Knock

A Merlin Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 10 - “I’m sorry, I didn’t know”

Summary: It is common knowledge in Camelot that one should never, under any circumstances, enter Sir Owen’s chambers without knocking. Unfortunately, someone forgot to tell Prince Arthur’s new servant.

Characters: Merlin, Arthur, Sir Owen (OC)

Words: 4,618

TW: PTSD episode/flashback

Note: Early days for our boys. :)

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, pease consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this!

Everyone in Camelot knew about Sir Owen, and everyone who had met him loved him. He was an old warrior, a man of honor and valor with a keen sense for battle and a veritable treasure trove of wisdom. He was old and gray now, and limped from the festering aches of old battle wounds, but he always had a smile and time to chat with anyone he met, nobles and servants alike. After he had retired from knighthood, Uther had awarded him quarters in the castle and a life of luxury.

The kind old man received regular visitors to his spacious rooms and always gladly welcomed them. Lady Morgana brought him a vase of flowers every week, new knights would often visit for advice and encouragement, many of the maids would stop for quick chats between chores, and Gaius brought him his medicine for his old battle wounds and nightmares every evening before bed. Once or twice the king himself had been seen visiting his old friend, and he too always departed with a smile.

There was something that every one of Sir Owen’s many admirers and visitors knew, however, and honored without compromise: Never, under any circumstances, should you enter Sir Owen’s chambers without knocking.

More specifically, no one should enter his chambers without loudly and clearly announcing themselves first – a light, polite knock wouldn’t do, especially not now that he had lost all his hearing in one ear, with the other ear quickly following suit. You had to knock loudly and aggressively, and if he still didn’t hear you, then you had to proclaim yourself as loudly as possible when you eased the door open to peek in. Ultimately, the last thing anyone wanted to do was to sneak up on the beloved Sir Owen, because if he was taken off guard, if he thought he was being ambushed, he became a completely different person.

Sir Owen had fought valiantly for Camelot for many decades, and in that time he saw horrors of battle and the worst of humanity. He’d been gravely injured protecting his fellow knights on no less than three occasions, the final of which had forced him to hang up his chainmail for good. And though he was a perfectly pleasant gentleman when he was in his right mind, in those moments of fear and panic – like when he thought he was being snuck up on or ambushed – he shifted back into the fearsome warrior who had felled scores of Camelot’s enemy’s over the years. And though he was old, he was still strong for his age, and crafty, and his confusion only fueled the desperate strength within him.

Sadly, his moments of lucidity had declined rapidly in recent days, and sometimes he struggled to remember who was his enemy and who was his friend during normal, mundane conversations. He only became violent when he was scared or surprised, however, which was what made announcing one’s presence of the utmost importance when calling upon him.

Every servant in Camelot knew this, as did all the knights and nobles who paid him regular visits. Well – all of the servants except for Merlin, Prince Arthur’s new manservant, who had just been ordered by his prince to go to Sir Owens’ chambers to escort the man to the training grounds. Arthur had asked him to oversee the newest recruits on this crisp autumn morning, and to his delight, the old knight, who had been staying in more often than not, had agreed to do just that. Merlin was happy to have a job other than hefting all of Arthur’s heavy equipment to the training grounds on his own (and all in one go, because Arthur was too impatient to allow Merlin to make multiple trips and very clearly cared nothing for Merlin’s well being in the slightest).

Merlin had never met Sir Owen before but knew that he was a bit of a legend around the castle. He’d heard whispers of some of the brave deeds and epic battles the man had fought in Camelot’s first days. He also knew Morgana brought him flowers to brighten up his chambers, and that he was supposed to be a very kind man with great advice and a smile that would brighten every room. Sir Owen sounded a positive delight, and Merlin had jumped at the opportunity to fetch him for Arthur so that he could meet this amazing man for himself. He sounded like a breath of fresh air in the stuffy citadel – but then again, most anyone who wasn't the prince of Camelot could claim that title, in Merlin's book.

Although Merlin had never been good at the niceties of court when dealing with Arthur, he did make it a priority to remember to knock if he were at anyone else’s door – as Gaius had told him on many occasions, if he just barged into the wrong person’s chambers, he could be in trouble so deep that even Gaius couldn’t bail him out. And so, when he reached the old knight’s chamber door, Merlin made a point to reach out his fist and give a few hearty knocks on the door.

No answer.

Merlin waited a short time before knocking again, but again, no one answered. Pressing his ear against intricately carved wood, he thought could hear something from inside of the room – a faint shuffling, as if someone were moving around. The warlock shifted anxiously on his feet, warning bells clanging in his head. If someone was in the room, why didn’t they answer the door? At the very least, why did the person not call out? Merlin could only think of two possibilities: Either the person in the room could not answer, or was not supposed to be there. Either way, something was off, and Merlin had to check and make sure the old man he was meant to fetch was okay.

Merlin tried the door – locked – and, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was alone, directed a pointed stare at the lock, felt the heat of magic swell within him, and heard the rewarding clunk as the door unlocked itself. Quietly, Merlin eased the door open and peered inside, looking for any sign of trouble. “Sir Owen?” His calm, quiet voice contradicted the furious beat of his heart, that instinct that warned him of danger.

No one seemed to be in the room that the wary servant could see, so Merlin inched his way further inside, taking in the elegant but sparse furnishings, the headless training dummy in old old but obviously well-cared for armor, and the weapon rack mounted on the wall that seemed to be missing its occupant. “Sir Owen?” Merlin called again, this time a little louder.

He didn’t even have time to turn when he heard the quiet rush of footsteps from behind. The next thing he knew, Merlin was facedown on the warm woolen rug that spanned much of the stone floor, the breath completely knocked out of him. Pain lanced through his upper back, sparking like lightning between his shoulder blades. Something had hit him – hard – and Merlin’s instincts warned him that whoever it was that had attacked him wasn’t done.

Only sheer force of will allowed the warlock to heave himself over on his back just in time to see Sir Owen himself, with his normally friendly, laugh-lined face twisted into a ferocious mockery of itself, gray hair come loose from its tie, and a hefty longsword, dulled with age but still deadly, brandished in his right hand. Merlin noticed that the sword, and the hand that held it, shook slightly moments before the old man – still in incredible shape for his age, as Merlin’s screaming back proved clearly! – lunged again, this time with the point of the blade and not the flat.

Merlin rolled to the side, lungs still heaving for air after being winded by Owen’s first hit, and the point of the sword cut a frayed line in the rug right where Merlin’s head had been. Struggling to his feet, the disoriented servant tried to appeal to the knight’s sensibilities; he gasped, “Sir Owen! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to frighten you.” Another swing of the sword, and Merlin ducked out of the way in the nick of time. “I did knock!” he insisted.

Sir Owen’s eyes, Merlin noticed, were clouded, and when the man spoke, it became obvious that he was seeing a completely different scene than what was actually going on around him. Somehow, it seemed, he thought he was back on the battlefield, fighting a deadly opponent, instead of cornering a frightened servant who had done nothing to harm him. “I won’t let you do it!” the man roared, and his voice cracked under the pressure of the rage and sorrow. “You killed my men – you take no one else!”

He advanced again, this time slowly, methodically, and Merlin backed away at the same pace, all too aware of the corner he was trapping himself in but afraid to bolt and frighten his confused aggressor into doing something he’d later regret. Raising his hands, Merlin spoke like he was addressing a small animal or a frightened child, “Sir Owen, my name is Merlin. I’m Prince Arthur’s servant. He sent me here to fetch you for the –”

He was cut off as Owen slashed forward with the sword unexpectedly, and this time Merlin wasn’t quite fast enough. Even the dulled edge was enough to slice through Merlin’s shirt and into his upper arm, and fire erupted in the wound. Blood, warm and sticky, oozed from the cut and meandered down his arm. He ignored it, more focused on staying alive.

“Liar! Traitor! Murderer!”

Merlin didn’t want to use magic on Sir Owen – from what he’d heard, the man was a genuinely good person, though something seemed very wrong with him now. On top of that, if he realized that his opponent had used magic after the fact, Merlin would be killed anyway. But the idea of being run through with a dull sword was so unpleasant that Merlin decided to take the risk. He turned to run from the next attack, allowed his eyes to flash gold, and heard his pursuer curse as his weapon somehow tumbled from his hands and skittered across the room. Hopefully, if he remembered this at all, he would put it down to losing his grip.

Now that the sword was out of the picture, Merlin felt a bit safer, but he couldn’t decide if he should try to help Sir Owen himself or run to get someone else instead. His choice was taken away from him, though, because he hesitated a second too long – in the time that Merlin had been debating his next course of action, the keen knight had made up his mind and charged bravely into battle. Sir Owen was the kind of warrior who would continue to fight with his bare hands against an entire heavily armed battalion until the very end. He never gave up, never let a little thing like losing a sword stop him.

And so he charged.

To Merlin, it was like Arthur’s prized steed had barreled straight into him, such was the force with which Sir Owen slammed against him. For the second time in ten minutes, the wind was driven out of him from the force of the blow, and he sprawled, stunned, on the chamber floor, his head rapping painfully against the stone.

Bright lights flickered in his field of vision and he tried desperately to get his body to move, but his arms and legs weren’t listening. He watched as the old knight, fury in his dark eyes, approached him, having abandoned the sword all together now that his enemy lay helpless at his feet. Merlin should have been glad that he wasn’t using the sword, but he had a very unpleasant feeling that Owen did not need a weapon to kill.

Seconds later, his unprotected side exploded in agony as Sir Owen drove his boot forward in a merciless kick. Afraid to use his magic again, forgetting everything but his basest instincts to survive, Merlin curled in on himself, nearly crying out at the pain the movement caused him. Another kick, this one to his back, and Merlin rolled away the best he could, panting in pain. Halfway to his feet, on hands and knees, almost there –

Another kick, this one to his gut, and he gagged, falling forward, face-first onto the floor. Blood welled up in his mouth – he must have bitten his tongue.

Merlin scrabbled for purchase on the cold stone, trying to regain his bearings even as every part of his body rebelled against him. He felt the man’s toe beneath his torso and sucked in a painful breath, but this time, all Owen did was flip him over. Merlin lay on his back, breath wheezing from his chest, and he was sure he had a broken rib, maybe more. Slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world at his disposal, the old man knelt next to his fallen foe and leaned in close. Merlin could smell breakfast on his breath – the stink of aged cheese mingled with the sweetness of fruit – as he man hissed, “You’ll die for this – sorcerer!”

Fear crescendoed, overshadowing the symphony of pain, as Merlin realized that somehow, Sir Owen had figured out what he had done, what he was. Helplessness took hold of the warlock. It didn’t matter if he survived this encounter – which was looking less likely by the second, unless he used his magic again – his life in Camelot was over. Might as well use his magic to escape. The giant lizard was wrong, then. It couldn't be his destiny to serve Arthur and bring magic and peace to Albion. He would be on the run for the rest of his life.

Merlin focused on his magic through the pain and felt it rise within him. It slipped out of his grasp as something latched onto his hair and dragged his head up. Merlin got a single look up close at Sir Owen’s eyes, filled with the kind of suffering no sword could inflict, brimming with regrets and hatred and death, before the man slammed the back of Merlin’s head into the ground. A flash of white light – intense pain, swirling darkness.

Merlin may have blacked out for a few seconds, but it couldn’t have been long, because when he regained a semblance of awareness – he couldn’t move, so much pain, vision blurred, he was going to be sick – Sir Owen had retrieved his sword and had it poised over his helpless victim’s heart. “Rot in hell, sorcerer,” he spat, and Merlin squeezed his eyes shut, partly against the pain, mostly in preparation for death.

A voice sounded from somewhere close by, first annoyed, then panicked: “What the hell is taking so long Merlin? I– what – NO!”

The fear in the last word, unexpected and guttural as it was, was enough to convince Merlin to open his eyes. Through the haze his vision had become, he saw a red and gold blur tackle Sir Owen, heard through ringing ears the sound of a brief struggle and the angry accusation “Sorcerer!” and then there was someone kneeling over him again, and Merlin struggled to sit up, to get away. He managed to turn over just in time to vomit all over Prince Arthur’s clean boots.

To his surprise, the prince didn’t yell or order him to scrub them again, right then and there. Instead, with surprisingly gentle hands, the man eased his servant back onto the ground and began checking him for injuries.

“You idiot,” Arthur said as he probed the back of Merlin’s head, eliciting a cry of pain and frowning at the blood staining his fingertips. He moved on to check Merlin’s ribs (“Three broken, at the very least, but we’ll have Gaius look at you.”) and arm. “It’s fairly shallow,” he said, and Merlin thought he must have been giddy with pain and exertion at this point, because it sounded like the prince was actually relieved. Arthur stood, stepped out of his boots with a grimace, and ordered, “Stay there. I mean it – don’t move. I’ve subdued Sir Owen for the moment, but he needs Gaius.” A deep crevice between his brows, the prince added, “And so do you. You’re a mess.”

Merlin didn’t hear if Arthur said anything else after that. He didn’t even see the prince leave the room. The darkness had claimed him by then, wrapping its welcoming arms of comfort around him and staving off, if only for a little while, the pain and the fear of what was to come.

***

When he awoke, it was in his own bed, in his room, and he was alone. Merlin’s head hurt more than he could ever remember it doing before – even more than the time he and Will had climbed on top of his roof and he’d fallen through the thatch. He’d smacked his head on the kitchen table when he’d landed on it, but the pain he’d been in had been nothing compared to his mother’s wrath. Now, though, it was not an ache or even bursts of sharp pains – it was like a drum, and every beat increased the agony he felt. It was the kind of headache that turned your stomach against you, too, and made the world around you lose its crisp edges and stole your ability to concentrate on even the most simple of tasks. His arm, now bandaged, stung fiercely, and the gnawing ache in his ribs turned into a cacophonous mass of torment any time he thought of moving.

So he didn’t move. He lay there, head pounding, body hurting like he had been run over by a horse, and allowed his mind to wander, though with the headache he had, he really did not have much control over the direction of his thoughts, anyway. In the end, every wandering pathway of his consciousness, every thought and question and memory, all led back to the terrifying realization that Sir Owen had seen his magic – somehow – and had probably already told Arthur and the king. Any moment now, guards would barge into his room and throw him into a cold, dark cell. Or maybe they’d skip the cell all together and toss him on a pyre. They wouldn’t even have to tie him to it. He was too weak to move.

The door opened, and Merlin jumped in a mixture of surprise and terror. Even the small movement caused all of his injuries to flare up and he slumped back, face beaded with sweat, panting in exhaustion and pain, waiting for the inevitable and wondering if he should try to fight back with magic since his secret was already out anyway.

It was good that he didn’t, because it was Arthur who entered, and he was alone, and there was a strange look on his face – if Merlin didn’t know better, he would have said it was somewhere between worried and guilty, with a healthy dose of discomfort sprinkled in for good measure. “Merlin,” the prince said in surprise, and it occurred to Merlin that he hadn’t expected his servant to be awake yet. Arthur stayed in the doorway, uncertainty rolling off of him in waves. “I – Gaius stepped out for a moment, to check up on Sir Owen. He’s been in quite a state, really disoriented and worried that he hurt you badly.”

Merlin frowned, and even that hurt. “Gaius?”

Arthur stared at Merlin like he’d grown another head. “No, you moron. Sir Owen. He feels terrible about what happened.”

Perhaps it was the head injury, but Merlin found himself thoroughly confused. “So… you’re not here to arrest me?” He could hear the slur in his own words and realized that he probably looked as bad as – if not worse than – he sounded. Arthur appeared to be as baffled as Merlin. He finally moved beyond the arch of the door and into the room, awkwardly taking a seat in Merlin’s chair, near the bed.

“Why would I be here to arrest you?” His blue eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What did you do this time?”

“Uh, Sir Owen, he said…” Merlin’s thoughts were as fuzzy as his sight, and he felt that distinctive curdling in his stomach that told him he was going to be decorating Arthur’s shoes again very shortly. Arthur must have seen that tell-tale paling of the face and whitening of the knuckles, because moments later, a bucket had been shoved under his nose and he threw up into it, vaguely surprised that there was anything left to expel. Arthur had produced a cup of water from somewhere, and when Merlin finished, the prince helped him take a sip. The water was bliss, cooling his raw throat and chasing away the sour taste in his mouth.

Nausea under control for the moment, Merlin cleared his throat uncomfortably, not meeting Arthur’s eye after the strangely intimate moment (if he had been looking, he would have seen Arthur studiously avoiding his gaze as well). Merlin picked up where he’d left off, his voice cracked and timid. “Sir Owen called me a sorcerer.” Arthur did look at him now, Merlin felt his eyes, but the warlock didn’t reciprocate. Instead, in a rush, he said, “If he told you that, you have to understand–”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice held no malice, only concern and a heaviness that the servant did not understand. “You don’t have to explain to me that you’re not a sorcerer. Yes, Sir Owen said something about it when I was pulling him off of you, but I know he was confused.”

Cautiously, Merlin pressed, “How do you know?”

Arthur laughed, a harsh, clipped sound. “Are you saying that you are a sorcerer?”

Merlin’s stomach flipped over on itself. “No,” he lied, not sure why he had even mentioned Sir Owen’s accusation in the first place. He was making himself look more suspicious; it was just hard to control what came out of his mouth – harder than usual, anyway. “I just want to know why you believe me over a respected former knight.” There. That was reasonable, right? Merlin’s head ached, and he just wanted to go back to sleep, but he had to know, had to have some kind of concrete assurance before he could rest.

Arthur sighed. That same weight tugged at the next words he said: “Sir Owen… he was a great knight, and incredibly brave and strong – still is, for that matter–”

“You can say that again,” Merlin muttered, wincing.

Arthur glared at him, daring him to interrupt again, and continued, “But he has seen some horrible things on the field of battle. And if he thinks he’s being attacked, he lashes out. Gaius says that he somehow finds himself back in the middle of a war, fighting off his worst enemies and watching his men die around him. It’s like he’s reliving the worst days of his life. And that’s why he attacked you – he thought you were trying to ambush and kill him.”

“But that doesn’t explain–”

“I’m getting there, Merlin. For someone who looks half-dead, you sure can run your mouth like usual.” Merlin grinned, despite himself. “Oh, don’t look so proud,” Arthur ordered irritably. “It’s incredibly irritating.” But his own mouth had stretched into a half–smile as well.

“Anyway – the last battle, the one that ended his career… A sorcerer who was fighting against Camelot nearly crippled him. He lay there, helpless, and had to watch as the sorcerer killed at least a dozen of his men. One of them was his only son.”

A grim silence settled over master and servant, and a sick pit had formed in Merlin’s stomach. It was the kind of hollowness that could only exist in misery and pain, and he found himself wishing for the nausea to return.

“He thought I was that sorcerer,” Merlin clarified, heart aching for the man that had nearly killed him. “I didn’t know”

“How could you?” Arthur asked. Then he added, his voice taking on more of the guilt that Merlin had thought he’d heard earlier, “And I – well, it’s my fault,” he hedged lamely. “That you got hurt. Because I didn’t even think to warn you to knock before you entered the room. I was so focused on getting to the training field that it didn’t cross my mind that you didn’t know about Sir Owen’s flashbacks, as Gaius calls them.”

Merlin’s eyelids were heavy, and everything hurt, and he could feel sleep calling to him, but he insisted stubbornly, “I did knock.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Wonders never cease. But,” he clarified, “if he doesn’t hear you knocking and doesn’t know you’re coming, then it doesn’t even matter if you did knock. I should have told you to announce yourself, or had someone go with you that knew what to do.”

Somewhere in the other room, a door opened and closed.

“That’ll be Gaius,” said Arthur, standing up. He looked down at his battered servant, hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then said, “Sir Owen sends his apologies, and he hopes to meet you under better circumstances once you’re both feeling up to it.” In a rush, he added, “And, for what it’s worth, I – I’m sorry too.”

Merlin blinked in surprise, knowing how hard it had to have been for Arthur to admit he had made a mistake, let alone apologize for it. And even though the servant truly didn’t think the prince had anything to apologize for (after all, Merlin forgot important things all the time), it was touching, and he could tell that despite his discomfort that Arthur really meant it and needed to know that all was well.

Arthur leaned over, gave Merlin’s shoulder a gentle squeeze – even that sent bolts of agony through Merlin’s body, but the gesture was appreciated, even cherished. “You did… surprisingly well in holding him off until I found you,” he admitted as Gaius’s footsteps were heard ascending the short set of stairs behind him.

“He beat me to a pulp and nearly sliced me in half,” Merlin deadpanned.

“Yes, but you’re still alive, and that in itself is almost impressive,” Arthur said, and Merlin couldn't tell if the prince was serious or not. “Anyway,” he said, backing away and making room for Gaius, who was puttering into the small room balancing a tray of medicines and broth. “I need to get to training. Gaius, make sure he’s back to work the moment he’s well enough, but… also, not a moment before he’s ready.”

Gaius nodded, patted Arthur on the shoulder in thanks, and began to treat his patient. Merlin watched Arthur leave, a warm feeling blossoming in his chest that had nothing to do with the broken ribs. He barely even heard Gaius’s lecture about propriety and taking care of himself and knowing all the facts before he walked in on a situation. His wandering, aching mind was too busy thinking about the prince.

When he’d first come to Camelot, Arthur never would have apologized for anything. Already, amazingly, Merlin was beginning to see a change in the other man, a spark of something that made Merlin the tiniest bit proud to know him. And it may have been the head injury talking, but right now, despite the irritation he so commonly felt toward his new master, the idea of this destiny the dragon had prophesied suddenly didn’t seem too terrible after all.

Maybe Arthur wasn’t so bad, either.

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cupcakezys · 3 years

Text

Dragons.

First. Previous.

Read on AO3.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Summary: “Are you sure you want to do this?” Merlin asked. “The Great Dragon doesn’t really like people.”

Morgana nodded stiffly, and Merlin smothered a sigh. Of course she wouldn’t back down. He was a fool to think she would. This was Morgana, after all. The second Merlin had told her about the great magical dragon beneath the castle, she had insisted that she needed to meet him, no matter how much Merlin tried to convince her it was a terrible idea.

“Fine.” He conceded, then turned to Arthur. “And you? You’ve never wanted to meet him before.”

Arthur shifted, uncomfortable and trying to hide it. “I doubt he would want a visit from his capture’s son, Merlin. I’m only going to make sure you’re both safe.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and Morgana scoffed. “How noble of you.”

Arthur sent Morgana a scalding glare and Merlin quickly decided it would be in their best interest if he interrupted them now, before they truly got going.

“If you’re both sure, then we need to get going now.” He glanced out into the corridor one last time, relieved to find it empty. “Someone is going to come along and wonder what the Crown Prince and his manservant are doing in a lady’s chambers so late at night.”

Morgana snorted and mumbled something Merlin couldn’t hear, but Arthur growled and shoved her, so whatever it was mustn’t have been pleasant. He rolled his eyes again and slipped out of the door, leaving the two nobles to catch up or risk losing him.

Merlin led them through the halls quietly, watching for any guards. He’d memorised a spell that would allow him to see dangers on the path ahead, and he muttered it quietly as they came to another corridor. The spell whispered back that the way was clear, and Merlin gestured to Morgana and Arthur. They followed closely behind him, silent.

It was easy to reach the entrance to the dragon’s prison. Two guards sat at a table, playing dice. Merlin glanced back and motioned for Morgana and Arthur to wait. They paused, Arthur close enough to see the guards. He raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin turned back to the guards and raised his hand.

“Swefe nu.” He whispered.

The guards blinked and swayed in their seats. Merlin pushed them a little with his magic, and they both slumped forward onto the table. They waited for a beat more, and then Morgana pushed Arthur’s shoulder impatiently and they were hurrying down the stairs, Merlin almost tripping as he went.

Morgana glanced at the sleeping guards. “You have to teach me that.”

“Later.” Merlin whispered back, eyes on the stairs leading down to the dragon’s cave. “Are you sure about this? We can still go back.”

Morgana drew herself up, determined. “I’m sure.”

Merlin looked to Arthur. The prince gripped the hilt of his sword, apprehensive, but nodded. Merlin took a deep breath and started down the stairs. A quick spell and a flame jumped to life in his hand, crackling quietly in the dark. Two sets of footsteps followed behind him.

Merlin was apprehensive, to say the least. The Great Dragon was a mysterious creature at the best of times, and Merlin had no idea how he’d react to him bringing others to his cave. On one hand, Merlin imagined anyone visiting would be better than being left alone, like he had been the twenty years before Merlin arrived in Camelot. On the other hand, he couldn’t be certain how he would react to Arthur. Morgana, as a fellow person of magic, would be fine. Arthur, however, was the son of the dragon’s jailer.

No matter how often the dragon told him it was Arthur’s destiny to unite Albion and bring magic back, he couldn’t fully trust him with the prince. His captivity had hurt him greatly, Merlin knew, and for all he hardly showed it, Uther loved his son. The easiest way to destroy him would always be to hurt Arthur. The dragon had to know that.

Merlin readied his magic as they descended, felt it rushing through his body like a storm. It was ready, as was Merlin, to protect his friends. Merlin had called lightning from the sky and summoned a tornado with a flick of his hand. He would not be beaten easily, not even by the Great Dragon.

When they reached the little ledge overlooking the dragon’s prison, Merlin stepped forward to the edge alone. He could feel Arthur’s anxious gaze, Morgana’s excited anticipation. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then looked up towards where he knew the dragon was waiting.

“Hello?” He called, his voice echoing through the cavern.

Silence greeted him.

Silence, and then the scuffle of something disturbing a pile of loose rocks, and the sound of large wings echoed around him. He tensed, magic flaring sharply. He saw a shadow move in the darkness, and then The Great Dragon swooped down and landed roughly on his rock.

The Great Dragon settled, golden eyes sparkling as he stared down at Merlin. “Greetings, young warlock.”

He heard a gasp, poorly hidden behind a hand, and the dragon’s eyes moved to the two behind him. A dragon’s facial expressions were hard to read, but Merlin could still feel him radiating disapproval.

“Why have you brought these two here?” The dragon asked.

Merlin winced. He did not sound happy. He straightened his back and subtly gestured the others forward, keeping his eyes on the dragon. He heard Morgana move first, her slippers quiet on the stone floor. She reached his side an instant before Arthur did, his hand hovering by the hilt of his sword as he stared wide-eyed above them.

Morgana was trembling beside him, and spoke before Merlin could say anything.

“You’re real.” She murmured, then grinned. “Merlin has told us so much about you. How you’ve helped him-“

The dragon growled, cutting her off. “I did not speak to you, Witch.”

Morgana flinched, and Merlin saw Arthur grip his sword tightly, pulling the blade out slightly. His own surprise and anger bubbled within him. Morgana had done him no wrong, and she did not deserve to be spoken to with so much detest and resentment.

“Hey!” He yelled, stepping forward. “She has a name! And she’s my friend.”

The dragon stared down at him. “She cannot be trusted.”

“That’s a lie!” Arthur yelled, glaring up at him.

The dragon turned his head to him, his lip pulled back in a snarl. “Pendragon. You have no idea of that which you speak.”

Arthur glared. “You’re the one that has no idea what you’re speaking of! I trust Morgana more than almost anyone.”

Morgana spoke up, voice hard. “What wrong have I ever done to you, that you wouldn’t trust me?”

The dragon stared at her, disdain in his eyes, even as he addressed Merlin. “It would be better if The Witch never knew the true extent of her powers.”

Morgana and Arthur started to protest, but Merlin spoke above them both. “You’re wrong. I trust her, I know her. She has a good heart.”

The dragon chuckled darkly. “You failed to heed my advice in the past and it brought grave consequences.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Morgana asked.

Merlin said nothing, and Arthur shifted beside him. “Merlin?”

Merlin ignored them. He focused completely on the dragon in front of him.

“I won't abandon her.” He insisted. “You’re wrong!”

The dragon leaned down, getting as close to him as his chains would allow. “I was not wrong about the druid boy, and I am not wrong about this. Your destiny depends on your choices, young warlock. Heed my warnings, and make the right ones.”

With that, The Great Dragon leapt from the rock, his wings carrying him up and out of sight.

“I knew that was a terrible idea.” Merlin said, some time later, after they’d silently made their way back to Arthur’s chambers.

“What did he mean, grave consequences?” Morgana asked, frowning. “And why doesn’t he trust the druid boy?”

Merlin sighed, sinking further into his chair. “There’s- there’s a prophesy.”

Arthur perked up. “Our prophesy?”

Merlin nodded as Morgana’s face scrunched up. “Your prophesy?”

“The prophecy of the Once and Future King.” Merlin said, smiling shyly at Arthur. “Arthur is destined to one day unite the land of Albion.” Then he smirked at Morgana. “So long as he doesn’t get himself killed before then.”

Morgana laughed as Arthur huffed at him. “If I die then wouldn’t you have failed your destiny, oh great warlock?”

Merlin huffed and shoved him. “I think I could be forgiven, considering how often you get yourself into trouble.”

Arthur leaned into him, a smirk on his face, and Merlin couldn’t resist pushing his chair a little so it jerked, making Arthur slip and fall ungracefully into his lap. Merlin chuckled as Arthur blushed and grumbled, righting himself but not moving from his new seat. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur and leaned in for a quick kiss.

Morgana made a gagging noise. “You two are disgusting. Just tell me what this prophesy has to do with the dragon hating a child.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but turned to face her. Merlin settled his arms around his waist and sighed.

“Apparently that child is destined to kill Arthur.” Merlin said, quiet and serious. “He’s meant to be Arthur’s doom. The dragon called him a great evil.”

They were silent a moment, then Morgana snorted. “A child? Great evil? He sounds like Uther.”

Merlin jolted at the comparison, ready to defend the dragon. It felt wrong to compare a creature of magic to Uther, but something in Morgana’s eyes stopped him. Then he remembered what the dragon had said about her – telling him to leave her in the dark about her powers, insinuating she was as evil as he thought the druid boy was.

“It doesn’t matter.” Merlin decided. “He’s wrong about you, I know it. We’ll train together and prove it to him.”

Morgana smiled and captured his hand in hers. “Thank you Merlin.” Then she stood and gathered her cloak around her. “I should bid you both goodnight.”

“I really am sorry about the dragon.” Morgana brushed his apology away and swept towards the door. Merlin went to stand, but Arthur refused to move, so he simply sent Morgana a smile and wave goodbye. “Goodnight Morgana.”

“Goodnight Merlin.” Her grin turned wicked as her eyes fell on Arthur. “Arthur. Try not to keep your servant up too late. You know how much your father hates it when you fall asleep during council meetings.”

Merlin squeaked and went bright red, his protesting cry of “Morgana!” muffled into Arthur’s shoulder.

“Get out you harpy!” He heard Arthur half whisper, half yell.

Morgana’s quiet laughter filled the room before she was gone, and Merlin slowly relaxed. He felt right – as if everything was as it should be. Whatever the dragon had seen in Morgana’s future, he was determined to prove that that wasn’t the only person Morgana was destined to become. And from the resolute set of Morgana’s shoulders, Merlin knew she was just as determined.

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i-like-it-when-ju-sleeps · 3 years

Text

Turning Page (Part 1)

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon (BBC) x Sarah (OC)

A/N: This takes place during the first episode of Merlin

The sun shone brightly as villagers congregated to the town square. Passers-by stopped to join the group that stood in front of the small platform, guards stood carefully, awaiting orders from their king. Lady Sarah was safely hidden in the castle, as it was required for her and other ladies to do during executions. She was about to join Uther Pendragon, king of Camelot, on the balcony that overlooked the town square, but stopped herself when she noticed her friend Morgana standing at the window.

“Are you alright, Morgana?” Sarah asked quietly, her hand coming to rest on the young woman’s shoulder. Her friend jumped a little at the sound of her voice. Once she realized that she was not in any kind of trouble, Morgana smiled, although it never truly reached her eyes. Sarah knew that smile well. It was one that Morgana used whenever she was trying to hide her true feelings.

“I am alright. Better than that poor man.” She answered bitterly as both young women looked out the window. A man was being dragged out to the platform, guards on either side of him. As he was forcefully dropped to his knees, head pushed down to meet stone, Sarah reached for her friend’s hand. She was about to say something when the King stepped out on the balcony to address his people. Sarah could not help but notice that Arthur was not with the King either.

“Let this serve as a lesson to all.” Uther’s voice rang as head turned in his direction. “This man, Thomas James Collins, is adjudged guilty of conspiring to use enchantments and magic. And, pursuant to the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that such practices are banned on penalty of death. I pride myself as a fair and just king,” Sarah scoffed at that, Morgana giving her a knowing look “but for the crime of sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass.” The executioner looked at the King, axe in hand, awaiting his orders. Uther raised his hand, and, slowly, let it drop down, motioning for the man to be beheaded.

Sarah felt her friend’s hand tightening around her own, and as the axe reached the man’s neck, Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch. Next to her, Morgana sucked in a breath, emotion welling up in her eyes at the sight. Under them, people gasped in shock.

“When I came to this land,” Uther claimed, pride lacing his voice, as everyone turned back to him “this kingdom was mired in chaos, but with the people's help magic was driven from the realm. So I declare a festival to celebrate twenty years since the Great Dragon was captured and Camelot freed from the evil of sorcery. Let the celebrations begin.” He smiled as he spoke, expecting his subjects to applaud his actions. However, a murmur rose among the people, who started to disperse. It was true that no one resented magic as much as Uther Pendragon, but the people also know that the man was blinded by his hatred, and not many feared magic anymore. Sarah felt a pang in her chest, knowing that a young man was just killed because of the King’s selfishness and ignorance. She was about to leave, not bearing the sight of the town square anymore, when a frail voice rang out.

“There is only one evil in this land, and it is not magic!” The crowd dispersed and an old woman came to view, hands shaking as she pointed accusingly at the King. “It is you! With your hatred and your ignorance! You took my son! And I promise you, before these celebrations are over, you will share my tears. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a son for a son.” Sarah felt dread at the woman’s words. A grave sense of danger washed over her, and she looked at Uther to see his response. Of course, he did not seem phased by the woman, and simply shouted at his men to seize her. As soldiers started to reach for her, the woman uttered words that Sarah could not understand, and disappeared in a gust of wind. Sarah took a step back. The woman had escaped, and she was not afraid of using magic; at least, not anymore.

“That poor mother.” Morgana whispered.

“I will never understand how someone can be so driven by hate.” Morgana’s eyes widened as Sarah spoke. While she agreed, she knew that speaking that way against the King could be harmful. But Sarah had always been brave and unafraid to speak her mind, something that had allowed the two women to become very fast friends when Sarah first arrived. “Someday, I fear all this hate may be his downfall.”

-------

The next day, Lady Sarah was walking around the town, enjoying the sun with her maid, when she heard commotion at the entrance of the castle. As she reached the small patch of grass, she noticed Prince Arthur and the knights laughing while a young man was being arrested by guards. On the ground, Arthur’s servant looked horrified as he looked at the stranger. Sarah could not help but feel like the stranger seemed familiar, and it was not until she reached him that she understood why.

“Merlin, is that you?” she asked, and the guards stopped as they saw the princess, confused as to why she was addressing the man they were arresting.

“You know this idiot?” Arthur asked, eyebrows raised, but Sarah paid him no mind, instead looking at the young man she never thought she would see again.

“Oh, hello Sarah.” Merlin grinned. Despite his predicament, he seemed cheerful and glad to see her. “I didn’t know you were in Camelot.”

“You can’t talk to her like that either.” Arthur protested, giving the guards a look as if to tell them to take Merlin away.

“It’s quite alright.” Sarah chuckled. She watched as the guards started to pull Merlin towards the castle. “Typical Merlin I suppose, always getting in trouble.” Merlin grinned as if to say that it was bound to happen anyway. “I guess I will see you when you’re not so… busy.” She teased. Merlin shook his head a little at her and she looked as he disappeared inside the courtyard.

Arthur and the other knights were still silently looking at the young princess, Arthur stunned because of what had happened, and the knights in respect to the woman. Sarah walked to the servant boy who was still on the ground.

“Can you stand?” she asked the young boy, who nodded quickly, too stunned to speak. He stood up and bowed his head to Sarah, finally finding his voice again.

“I am alright, my Lady.” He answered quietly.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur spoke up, “may I know what just happened here?”

“Oh, good morning to you as well Arthur.” She gave him a small smirk, knowing that when he was in one of those moods, he could get annoyed really easily. Arthur rolled her eyes at her.

“How did you know that man?” he asked sternly.

“He’s an old friend.” She shrugged good-heartedly. When she saw that Arthur was not going to let it go, she continued. “My mother used to make me spend some time in a neighbouring village. I met Merlin there and we were great friends. Now could you tell me why he was just arrested by the guards? Anything to do with that poor servant who was on the ground?”

The knights quickly started looking anywhere but at the two. Arthur stumbled upon his words to answer, not very prince-like, which told Sarah that he had done something wrong.

“I was doing my own business, training, and your friend interfered and spoke to me like… like…”

“Like you were acting an idiot I take it?” Arthur scowled at her jest. If it had been anyone else, he may have protested, but he knew that it would be no use, she was right anyway. She gave him a smug smile, waiting for him to answer. He rolled his eyes and tried to muster his most charming smile.

“If you’ll excuse us, we should probably get back to training, but I will see you later today, yes?” he asked, and as he did, he grabbed her right hand, lifting it towards him to press a kiss upon her knuckles. She gave him an earnest smile at the gesture, squeezing his hand in return.

“Of course.” She answered. “You boys keep him out of trouble.” She told the knights who were still standing around. “You lot behave for the rest of the day, yes?” They all smiled at her as she made her way back to the courtyard, continuing her walk around the market.

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #arthur bbc #arthur x oc #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon imagine #merlin fic #fanfic #arthur pendragon x oc

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the-weeping-monk · 4 years

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visions are seldom all they seem (but i know you)

Chapter 1

next/find on ao3

The water pulled Nimue down, down, down, greedy in its hold over her body. She was sinking in a shroud of her own blood. Red, red, red. The pain she felt was unlike anything she had experienced before. She would scream if she could, but even that took too much energy.

She was dying. And while she should have been calm, knowing that death was inevitable—that she would be able to see her mother again—she could feel nothing but agony. There was so much she had to do. Were the Fey safe? Did they make it to the ships? What of Pym and Squirrel and Arthur? What of Morgana and Merlin?

Merlin. Her father. The man who had tried to save her despite being near-death himself. A burst of agony flashed through her. There had been unadulterated rage in Merlin’s eyes toward Iris as he had flung himself forward and caught Nimue’s hand. And when she had slipped through his fingers, there was only pain, a gut-wrenching agony that she felt in her core.

This couldn’t be the end. Her story couldn’t end here, it couldn’t.

. . . could it?

She had lived her entire life wishing to be accepted, and when that wish had not been granted, she had tried to run. Away from her problems, away from her life. But when she wasn’t running, she had been fighting. She had fought the wolves and had gained herself a name. She had fought the Red Paladins and led her people and named herself a queen. Nimue had run, but she had also fought. And now, as the water slowly stole her breath, she was fighting still.

She did not want to die. She wasn’t ready. There was so much to do, so much she had yet to accomplish.

But Nimue was growing tired and losing consciousness. She could not fight forever, it seemed.

She was about to give in to Death’s call when she felt it: the Hidden. They reached out to her, desperate in their plea. She felt their power flow through her, felt them clamber to the forefront of her mind. Their shouts of desperation pushed her into action, and she called upon the magic inside of her in a last-ditch effort.

Vines and roots alike reached out to her from the darkness of the water, grasping her limbs in an attempt to save her from this watery grave. She was barely conscious when she reached the surface, little more than a deadweight for the Hidden to pull to shore. They laid her gently on the rocks of the beach and slithered away.

Nimue’s eyes shot open and she rolled onto her side, heaving up water. The next lungfuls of air were painful, but they were the sweetest she had ever tasted. The pain meant that she was alive , that she had survived this. The air was sharp and stinging, but Nimue relished in it. Each gust of piercing wind widened her smile. She wasn’t dead.

She pushed herself off of the ground and immediately winced. The arrows stuck in her chest brought a fresh wave of pain over her, and she doubled over. Nimue squeezed her eyes shut and bit back a torrent of curses. She didn’t have any medical supplies or Fey ointments. She was alone without resources and two arrows stuck in her chest.

The Hidden bombarded her mind with unintelligible whispers once more. Nimue had not been able to use their power for anything other than destruction before, except for when she had produced fruit from a barren tree. Merlin had guided her then, but he was not here now.

Anger is your flint to the fire, he had said, telling her something she had already known. But then, There are other ways to access the Hidden. Imagine the result you want.

She was running out of time. If she wanted to live, if she wanted to see her friends again, then she had to try.

Stealing herself, Nimue called out to the Hidden.

Create an intention, and then surrender that intention to the Hidden.

She wanted to be healed. She wanted the arrows out of her chest, wanted her wounds closed. Nimue held onto Merlin’s words, felt their truth in the way the Hidden had once listened to her wishes. The whispers grew.

There were two sharp stabs of pain—one in her left shoulder, one in the center of her chest—and then everything was numb. She heard rather than felt the arrows fall and clatter to the ground. It was only when the whispers receded that Nimue reached a hand up to touch the points where the arrows had lodged themselves in her chest.

Her mouth parted slightly, amazed that instead of two gaping holes, there were only two scars. The Hidden had listened to her, had healed her.

Unable to quench her relief and triumph, she laughed aloud. Anyone nearby would have thought her mad, but Nimue could not care less. She had been given a second chance, and she would not hesitate to fulfill it as she had before. That scared little girl who had tried to run from her destiny was dead. She had died in the lake, and was buried in its depths. Nimue would no longer hide from what she was meant to do. She was the Wolf-Blood Witch, the Fey Queen, and she would not be cowed.

Soaking wet in a mix of blood and water, she glanced around. She was alone, save for Red Paladin bodies littered on the stone bridge above. No Merlin, no Morgana, no Iris with her bow and arrows. No sword.

She frowned. No matter, she would find her friends soon enough. She knew where Arthur and the Fey were headed, knew where the ships had taken them if all went to plan, so that was where she would check first. But there was still something nagging at her, a seedling of doubt.

If the king had not been able to stop the church from interfering with her life, she doubted he would have been able to stop the church’s interference with the Fey.

But before she could do any of that, she needed dry clothes. Now that she wasn’t half-dead, the cold air was beginning to wrack her body with shudders. Biting her cheek against the onslaught of harsh winds, Nimue made her way up the mountainside and toward the stone bridge. It took her an embarrassing amount of time, but she figured it wasn’t too bad since she had almost died mere moments before.

Nimue blinked. All of the Red Paladins had lightning scars on their skin and charred holes seared straight through their robes. Had there been a storm while she was drowning? She studied the bodies closer and deduced that the strokes were too deliberate to be a coincidence. Merlin must have gained his magic back—that was the only explanation she could come up with.

She combed through the dead Red Paladins, searching for one of their robes that wasn’t completely destroyed. Once she found one that would do, Nimue carefully ripped the fabric off of the man, tearing the seam at its side. She threw the robe around her shoulders, shivering at another gust of wind.

Clenching her teeth, Nimue made her feet move toward the mountain pass where she, Morgana, and Merlin had been headed before Iris had shot her. Though the Hidden had healed her wounds, there was still an ache deep inside of her. She was exhausted from the emotional toll of the day; all she wanted to do was sleep.

But Nimue was a queen with a duty to her people. If the church had sabotaged the Fey, then she needed to save them. She would not let them suffer through what had taken her mother and her village. She would not.

Nimue resolved that she would save her people even if she died trying.

. . .

The moon rose as the Fey made camp along the shoreline and in the surrounding caves of the beach. Arthur and the Red Spear had quickly taken charge. They had gathered those left alive together and debated on their next move: they could either board the ships to the new land, as had been promised to them; or they could stay and rescue Nimue.

Though there were a few who wanted to leave, they were quickly convinced by the consensus to fight for their queen. The Fey had stuck together for a long time before Nimue had made herself their queen, and now was not the time for them to be parted.

It gave Arthur peace of mind to know that he was not alone in his devotion to Nimue, that there were others who would risk their lives for her as she had for them.

He had wanted to go after Nimue immediately, but the Red Spear persuaded him against it.

“The Fey need to rest, as do my people. We’ll figure out our plan of attack in the morning, but not right now,” she had said.

So instead of his instinct to rush into battle to save Nimue, Arthur helped ration out food and water.

There wasn’t much to sort through; no one had thought to bring more than they could carry. They had, after all, assumed that they would be on their way to new lands by now.

The Red Spear worked beside him in comfortable silence. Ever since the battle, an understanding had passed between them. Arthur was not quite sure what that meant, but he was relieved that he wouldn’t have to fight against her. He considered himself a good swordsman, but he knew, without a doubt, the Red Spear would be able to take him down in an instant.

It was a good thing that she was on their side. They would need her skill if they were going to rescue Nimue from the king and the Red Paladins.

Nimue. He shouldn’t have let her go, should never have let her out of his sight. But he had, and now he was paying the price. If Cumber the Ice King sabotaged King Uther’s plans for the Fey, then who was to say he wouldn’t interfere with Uther’s plans for Nimue?

Arthur clenched his fists. The deal was a fool’s bargain, to begin with. He had to save her. His Nimue.

The Red Spear broke him out of his reverie.

“We should make our way to the caves. It will provide more shelter than out here,” she said once the last of the rations had been passed out.

Arthur murmured his agreement and the two made their way into one of the closest cavities. There were already a few lit fires inside, and Arthur searched for Pym. He had made certain she survived the battle, for Nimue’s sake, but he hadn’t analyzed her for major injuries.

There were not many Fey, though there hadn’t been many to begin with. It was lucky the Red Spear and her army had shown up when they did, or else there might not have been any left. The dead were left out on the beach while the injured were moved inside the caverns.

As Arthur and the Red Spear made their way through the encampment, they made sure to watch where they stepped. It was a tight space, but it was better than leaving the injured out in the open.

His gaze caught on Pym, who was sitting near the back with a group of raiders. He nodded his head in their direction and said, “Let’s head there.”

Arthur didn’t wait for the Red Spear to follow him. When Pym spotted him, she grinned and waved him toward her. He sat beside her on a piece of driftwood, while the Red Spear sat across from him with her comrades. She pulled the tip of her spear into her lap, produced a knife from her boot, and then proceeded to sharpen her spearhead.

He turned toward Pym. “Are you okay?”

“Better than Blondie, here,” she said, gesturing to the other side of her where a burly man with a blond beard sat.

The man had a gash on his temple. The blood streaked down his face and matted in his beard. Upon hearing the nickname Pym had given him, he glared at the petite girl.

“Oh, lighten up,” Pym laughed. “You know you love it.”

The man grumbled something under his breath.

“So you’re not hurt?” Arthur clarified. He had quickly realized that Pym often made jokes to avoid difficult matters or stress in general. Nimue had been good at prying information from her when she was like this, so Arthur took a page out of Nimue’s book.

Pym shook her head. “No. I stayed in here, in the cave. And even if I had joined the fight, I have this,” she gestured at an elaborate necklace, “to protect me.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Arthur said, his lips quirking up. He did not think that he could manage to produce a real smile, at least not yet. Not until he knew that Nimue was safe.

Arthur looked to the Red Spear. Her focus was on her spearhead, on sharpening its sides. It gave him a chance to study her. The flames cast long shadows across her face, making her look older than her years. Her nose piercing glinted in the light, as if it were made of liquid fire. Her eyebrows were pinched together in concentration. He wondered what she was thinking of, and then he realized that he did not know much about her at all. A thought occurred to him.

“What’s your real name?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The Red Spear glanced up at him, an eyebrow raised. “You can call me the Red Spear.”

Arthur frowned. “Yes, but—”

“I am afraid we don’t know each other well enough for me to reveal my true name to you,” she cut in, leveling him with a harsh look. “So stop asking.”

Arthur closed his mouth and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying more. But as the minutes ticked on, he had to know—

“Why would you help us if you don’t trust us?”

She stopped sharpening her spear, irritated. “Look, we may not be Fey, but that doesn’t mean our names are any less powerful. Do not fault me if I don’t tell you mine.”

Arthur raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. “Alright,” he said at last. “Consider that the last time I asked.”

The Red Spear met his eyes and nodded, satisfied, before shifting her focus back to her spear.

Arthur did not understand why the Red Spear refused to part the shroud of secrecy surrounding her. It made no sense. In his experience, if you were fighting together, you trusted that person with your life—there had to be no room for doubt. She was a puzzle to him, one that was getting increasingly more difficult to solve.

No one spoke for a few moments. Pym was the first to break the silence, her eyes downcast. “Do you think Nimue is alright?”

Arthur gazed into the fire, watched the flames dance. He couldn’t bring himself to speak. Nimue had sacrificed herself—and for what? They didn’t make it to the ships anyway.

The Red Spear paused in her sharpening once more. Her eyes were gentle, an expression Arthur hadn’t seen on her yet. It softened her features.

“Your queen is most likely being tortured for information. Worst case, she’s already been killed,” she said matter-of-factly.

Arthur’s stomach dropped. Pym’s eyes widened. It was not what she wanted to hear—it wasn’t what Arthur wanted to hear, either. He turned his face away, worked his jaw.

“We have to get her back,” he declared.

The Red Spear’s eyes found his. “No.” It was a simple statement with no room for negotiation.

“What do you mean ‘no’?” argued Arthur, rage flickering inside of him.

“I mean, we can’t do anything about your queen right now—we have more important things to focus on.”

That was the wrong thing to say.

“Nothing,” Arthur seethed, voice deadly calm, “is more important to me than Nimue.”

The Red Spear sighed as if she were talking to a child. “Look, Arthur, I know that this is hard for you, but until my father is dealt with, then your queen will never be safe.”

“She’ll be safer with us,” he said, leaning forward. “I know it.”

“Maybe so, but rescuing her from who-knows-where expends more resources than we can afford right now.” She laid her spear on the ground, having finished sharpening it. “Your queen is strong. She has immense power—she’ll be fine, long enough for us to take command of Cumber’s army.”

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose before fixing the Red Spear with a stare. “No. Not going to happen. You can deal with Cumber, but the Fey and I will be rescuing our queen.”

The Red Spear groaned. “Arthur, listen to me: you can’t go up against the king’s army. Your queen was the only one powerful enough to go head-to-head with them. Without her, you will be crushed,” she said, factual. “And then what would her sacrifice be for?”

Arthur hated to admit it, but she had a good point. He couldn’t risk everything that Nimue had done for them on a gamble.

After a moment of tense silence in which everyone in their little group was staring at him, Arthur gave a terse nod. “Alright,” he said slowly. “Alright. But you have to promise me that you will do everything in your power to get her back once you’ve bested Cumber.”

The Red Spear’s eyes were determined when she said, “I promise.”

. . .

“Where are we going to go?” Squirrel asked, cocking his head at Lancelot.

They had stopped along a river to allow their horse to rest. Lancelot had shrugged off his cloak and was kneeling down by the riverbank in an attempt to wipe the blood off of his face and hands.

At Squirrel’s question, Lancelot turned his head toward where the boy stood next to the horse. Something about the child struck a chord with him. Squirrel was too young to lose so much. Perhaps that was why Lancelot had become so protective of him. Or it had been because of something else entirely.

Does he remind you of someone? the abbot had asked.

He hadn’t admitted it, but Squirrel reminded Lancelot of himself. He had only been a boy when Carden ripped him from his home after his disciples had burned his village. Oh, how he had hated Carden for it, how he had despised him.

But as time went on, Lancelot began to forget what it was like to truly be one of the Fey. Memories of his family grew hazy and were replaced by memories of Carden and the Red Paladins instead. They were replaced by memories where Lancelot was the one destroying villages like his own, where Lancelot killed his own kind.

The Green Knight’s words had stuck with him. They had latched themselves onto Lancelot, branded themselves onto his heart.

Why didn’t you tell them? Lancelot had asked. Before . . . you could have told them. But you didn’t. Why?

Because all Fey are brothers. Even the lost ones, the Green Knight had said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

Lancelot did not want Squirrel to suffer the same fate that he had. He owed that much to the Green Knight.

“We will go to the nearest village to gather supplies, and then I’ll take you back to your friends, wherever they may be,” Lancelot said, rubbing off a splotch of blood on his palm.

Squirrel frowned. “What do you mean ‘wherever they may be’? Aren’t they still at Gramaire?”

Lancelot blinked. He was reminded that this boy had probably been away for the entire time the deal was being made. “The last I had heard, the Fey were being given safe passage off-land in exchange for your queen.”

“Nimue traded herself for the Fey?” There was a note of disbelief in Squirrel’s voice.

Lancelot merely nodded, unsure what to say. He did not know how close the boy and the Fey Queen were—if he should offer words of comfort or simply let Squirrel figure out his feelings on his own.

Squirrel turned away, only to turn back to face Lancelot a moment later. “We need to go rescue her.”

Lancelot’s brows furrowed immediately. “We cannot risk it—it’s too dangerous.”

“Nimue could be hurt!” Squirrel shouted, and then proceeded to attempt to climb onto the horse. “We must go.”

“No, we must not.”

Squirrel gave up trying to get into the saddle and rounded on Lancelot instead. “And why not? Nimue risks herself for everyone else! She’s my friend, and friends help each other.”

“There’s only one of me against King Uther’s army. That won’t end well.”

The boy was indignant. “There's two of us.”

Like that will make so much of a difference. Lancelot bit his tongue against the remark and said instead, “You don’t even know how to fight, Percival.”

Squirrel crossed his arms. “You know I don’t like that name.”

“And you know that it’s too dangerous to go into the king’s camp alone and unprotected. Don’t you?” Lancelot stood from his spot by the riverbank and slipped on his cloak.

Squirrel looked away and remained silent.

Lancelot sighed and stepped toward him, deciding that the boy’s affection for the Fey Queen would only cloud his judgment. He needed to switch tactics.

“How about this: we find your friends and I teach you how to fight. Then we can save your queen. You are a knight, after all,” Lancelot said after a moment of deliberation.

A pair of blue eyes met his own. “You mean it? You’ll teach me to fight?”

Lancelot’s lips quirked up unconsciously. “I mean it.”

Squirrel grinned. “Yes!” he crowed, punching a fist in the air in triumph.

Lancelot liked seeing the boy happy and was glad his promise did the trick. But Squirrel had a fast-track mind and wouldn’t be occupied for long. Lancelot would need to stall for time in order to gather his thoughts.

Though he had promised to teach the boy how to fight in order to placate him, Lancelot knew that he would have to learn at some point. Why not now? The sun was still high in the sky, beating down upon them. They would have time to get supplies later. He searched around the riverbank for a moment, and when his gaze landed on two sticks about the same length, he gave one to Squirrel and kept the other for himself.

Turning the stick over in his hand, Squirrel asked, “What are these for?”

Lancelot had two swords on his person, but he assumed that giving a child a sharp weapon on his first lesson was not the smartest option. Especially when that child was impulsive and accident-prone.

“Lesson one: anything can be used as a weapon.” Lancelot paused, contemplating his next words. Father Carden had taught him how to first use a sword and had guided him through the motions. “Hold the stick like this,” he said, adjusting Squirrel’s grip on the stick as if it were a true sword.

When the boy was holding the mock-sword properly, Lancelot spoke. “Now, I want you to do what you think will disable me the fastest.”

It was something Father Carden had said to him when they first began their lessons. Disable me as best you can. Imagine that I am the enemy.

But Carden and his Red Paladins had always been the enemy, in a way. They had burned his village, taken him from his home. Lancelot’s imagination had not had to stretch far in order to conjure up the memory of his home in flames, of those same flames reflected in his mentor’s eyes.

At first, Lancelot had been Squirrel’s captor—his enemy—just as Father Carden had been Lancelot’s. He had bore witness to the burning of the boy’s home and had captured him for his own purposes.

Bile rose in Lancelot’s throat. Maybe he was not so different from Carden as he had thought.

Squirrel studied him for a moment, unsure. “Okay . . .” he said, glancing between Lancelot and the stick in his hands. And then, true to his nickname, he darted forward and slashed his stick toward Lancelot’s side.

Lancelot blocked the blow with ease, causing the boy to stumble back from the momentum. “Focus,” he commanded.

The boy narrowed his eyes in concentration before running forward again, this time diving for Lancelot’s legs. The monk merely stepped to the side, and Squirrel fell into the dirt.

“This isn’t fair,” Squirrel huffed, picking himself off of the ground.

“And you think that going up against an entire army will be?” Lancelot raised a brow.

Squirrel looked away.

Lancelot’s voice softened. “Sword-fighting took me years to master. I do not expect you to get it right away.” Squirrel met his eyes, albeit reluctantly. “This art takes focus and precision. Every move must be deliberate.”

“But we don’t have time for that. I need to be good now.” Squirrel crossed his arms, indignant.

Lancelot looked out over the empty land stretching out for miles in every direction. He was not good with people, with talking. He hardly ever spoke a word, and when he did, it was usually just reporting to Father Carden or barking out orders. But with Squirrel, Lancelot had to actively think of how to handle the situation and say the right things.

After a moment, Lancelot spoke. “These things take time. No one can simply pick up a sword and instantly be a good fighter.”

“But that’s what Nimue did,” Squirrel pouted. “She’s never even held a weapon before the Sword of Power but she killed those wolves and Red Paladins.”

Lancelot hid his surprise. The Wolf-Blood Witch amazed him the more he learned about her. He was not sure what to make of her, but he knew that she was one of the most powerful beings since Merlin. He knew that she was made to be a queen.

“Your queen . . .” Lancelot trailed off, choosing his next words with care. “Your queen’s situation is a little different. She was forced to become so much in so little time.”

“Why can’t I be as good as her?”

Discarding his stick to the side, Lancelot squatted down to be at Squirrel’s eye level. The boy looked at him, brow furrowed, eyes confused. Lancelot brought his hands to Squirrel’s shoulders and said, “Stop comparing yourself to her. You may not have the skill she does, but you have just as much heart.” Lancelot’s lips quirked. “You sneaked into a Red Paladin camp, completely unarmed, in order to save your friend.”

At the mention of the Green Knight, Squirrel looked down.

Guilt caught in Lancelot’s throat, but he barreled on. “That takes strength, Percival, and I know that your friend would be proud of you.”

Squirrel froze. “‘Would be’?”

Lancelot tensed, realizing his mistake. He did not know for certain if the Green Knight had died or not, but he had assumed that he had based on the severity of his wounds. Lancelot hurried to move on, to distract the boy from his pain.

“What I am trying to say is that you do not need to prove your worth by becoming a knight and fighting in battle. You have already proven your loyalty and strength by doing what no one else did.”

Squirrel did not seem completely deterred from Lancelot’s slip, but some of the tension in his body released nonetheless. He did not speak, only nodded once.

Lancelot figured that was as good as he would get, and stood to help the boy back onto the horse. When they were both situated, they continued on their path in comfortable silence.

#nimulot #nimue x lancelot #cursed #cursed netflix #squirrel #Lancelot and squirrel #the father-son duo we deserve #Arthur x the red spear #arthur x guinevere #the weeping monk #the fey queen #the wolf-blood witch #nimulot fanfic #nimulot fanfiction #cursed Netflix fanfic #visions are seldom all they seem (but i know you)#the-weeping-monk writes

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coinofstone · 4 years

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5x12 The Diamond of the Day pt 1

Final two episodes! Big finale! Why am I making myself cry in the middle of the afternoon! Both eps in this post.

I do love that they made Arthur a sore loser

Enter treacherous white woman #2. Srsly it was lazy writing when they did it for Mordred, it's worse now with Gwaine.

I do love the actual Round Table war room discussion but a) why isn't Merlin seated at the round table and b) why does Leon have so much goddamn faith in Camelot's walls? Like??? You literally said the same thing last year and yet Camelot *did* fall when Agravaine brought an army through the tunnels!

Poor Aithusa. Kid's had a rough life.

I do love Arthur responding to Merlin presenting him with all his supplies ready - which he prepared without his magic mind you - with suspicion 😂

But then he calls Merlin a coward and it's sad

Katie has such a great voice. That entire thing in the cave from her taunting to her laughter to the spell, it just just beautifully played.

Whole ass battle to prepare for and Arthur is just walking around moping cuz Merlin isn't there

So, Merlin's father-vision telling him he's magic itself and he just needs to believe in himself to get his magic going again, does this mean he *didn't* need to go to the cave to get it back? Cuz it seems like he needed to recharge in the cave itself, his injuries were healed when he woke up. That seems like magic cave stuff to me.

Also that "always have been and always will be" - I'm taking to mean 'always have been' in the sense that since he's 'magic itself' even before he was born, his magic existed in other, intangible forms, like we are all stardust etc. But now that he is, he will always be, aka he will not die.

Arthur waking up with his wife in his arms and Merlin's name on his lips, jumping out of bed to act on dream-info.

Balinor telling Merlin to trust in what will be.... like bitch that is literally not how this ends.

5x13 The Diamond of the day pt 2

You know that gif of the cat knocking everything off the table? That's literally Merlin shooting lightning at everyone from his perch on the ridge.

I have a lot of snarky things to say about Merlin coming out of the cave in full Dragoon gear and riding a horse instead of teleporting like the other witches but I'ma keep that to myself.

Mordred is a bitch and Aithusa has terrible aim. At least Aithusa's loyalty to Morgana makes sense.

Arthur said oh shit I'm magic - oh wait no it's that old man again

He also straight up "No! Bad dragon!"-ed Aithusa

Y'know, for all I've watched this episode and screamed about Arthur's death, I don't think I've ever focused on the exact moment he gets stabbed before.

Mordred catches him from behind and he meets it, no fault there. But as soon as he realizes his assailant is the knight who turned on him and joined Morgana, what does he do? HE LOWERS HIS FUCKING SWORD

He leaves himself wide fucking open and vulnerable and Mordred seizes the opportunity. I understand wanting the moment of recognition for Arthur, but on what planet is a trained warrior going to drop his sword mid-attack because he recognizes his attacker as a dude who only just recently decided to forsake him? It's soooooo dumb

There was a whole sequence a few episodes back where Mordred and Arthur are sparring, the point of it was to show that Mordred has become a skilled swordsman. So what exactly was the point in having Mordred run Arthur through as soon as Arthur idiotically lets his guard down? This should've been a meticulously choreographed sword fight, with Mordred getting the upper hand and sticking Arthur properly. Not this nonsense. Look at Arthur's FACE! Oh, Mordred... 👉👈 do you maybe wanna be friends again- STAB ... guess not

Uther's been rolling in his grave but he's taking an extra tumble watching Arthur forget all his skills and training in that moment.

I do appreciate Arthur getting Mordred back though. Like that moment of merciless anger followed by the hurt and regret playing on Arthur's face, warring with surety and responsibility. It was good.

I've rewatched the big confession scene about 16 times just now.

I don't quite understand why Merlin took Arthur to the woods to begin with. Instead of bringing him to the med tent in the battlefield or back to Camelot. What was the reason?

Merlin saying it feels strange (to use magic freely in front of Arthur) and him just going 'yeah' completely deadpan makes me laugh every time.

I really feel like Arthur's head should be elevated at a further incline if he's going to be fed.

Gaius refusing to outright expose Merlin as the sorcerer but nonetheless letting Gwen figure it out on her own warms my heart.

My God Arthur is sitting there dying, feeling betrayed about his best friend 'lying' to him, and still he can't stop himself from looking at Merlin's mouth.

Percival summoned MUSCLE POWER

Hey um random but why does Gwaine even know where Merlin and Arthur are headed? Why would Gaius tell him?

Arthur looks at Merlin so lovingly after he's killed Morgana 😭😭

And now he's literally grabbing at the man's hand 😭 "just hold me, please"

That's gotta be the gayest death scene in television history. If you can watch that without thinking Arthur puts his hand on the back of Merlin's head because some part of him wants to bring him down for a kiss, or that "just hold me, please" is in any way shape or form a 'bros' thing, and certainly not at all an intentional mirror/callback to Isolde dying in Tristan's arms, then I'm afraid you are what we professionals refer to as a dumb-as-nails fucknugget, more commonly phrased as 'willfully ignorant'.

"All that you have dreamt of building has come to pass" yeah except for the whole, y'know, magic still being illegal thing.

I've said this before, but, while I'm sure there was a determined intention to have Arthur die in his armor, probably in some kind of attempt to make sure the audience knows he's died a warrior's death, I *really* think it was kinda stupid that Merlin never removed it, despite Arthur being weak, despite the fact that there was something like five days between him getting stabbed and him actually dying, despite that for the duration of that time they were traveling or hiding out. Merlin managed to produce a cloak to put on Arthur, why did he need the full armor on that whole time? Like even if they left the chainmail on, those plates on his shoulder were just getting in the way, and it looked quite uncomfortable.

Also not for nothing but Lancelot got like, every flower in the forest surrounding lush verdant greens in his death boat, Arthur gets a bunch of sticks.

It suddenly occurs to me, watching this now, that the reason Leon/Percival is such a common side pairing in Merthur fics, is because these two motherfuckers are the only original Knights of the Round Table to survive the series. 🤦‍♀️ I dunno how I failed to notice that before now. My stupidity amazes me.

I'm *really* glad they decided to do this scene with Gwen wearing the Pendragon red dress instead of the black mourning dress. Yes she looks fabulous in it but it's more the symbolism than the 'reality' - with Gwen wearing her house's colors it represents a continuation rather than a finality. Camelot will go on, Gwen will undoubtedly end the war on magic and with Morgana dead (and frankly, I think by now she already brought about the death of all the angry incel type rulers in Albion) there stands to reason her reign will begin with a period of peace, possibly longer than Arthur's. We kind of have to assume that the 'time the poets speak of' is, inevitably, Gwen's reign - which only came about through Arthur's death. It's a little bit toooo subtle in my opinion, but at the same time, I understand the need for the focus on Merlin and Arthur - after all, this show was their journey - not leaving much time to focus on Gwen and Camelot in the aftermath of Arthur's death.

I will just say, the first time I watched this that fucking truck scared the ever living shit out of me. I also just immediately, viscerally hated that scene and declared it invalid - but I think it was because the truck made me jump out of my skin. It has since grown on me, particularly once I started reading 'Arthur Returns' fic.

Everything beyond this point is post-series spec and headcanon, so if that's not your jam you can exit safe in the knowledge that as usual, if there's anything worth commenting on in the S5 extras, I will create a separate post!

For those interested, my go-to post-series fic is We Begin Again by katherynefromphilly I fully headcanon this series as the continuation of the series.

I have a lot of thoughts about Gwen and Merlin post-Camlann.

For one, poor fucking Gwen. She's lost her father, her brother, and her husband, all by what, age 30? That's rough. And who knows what happened to her mom, that was pre-series and I don't think it was ever mentioned.

Merlin, dear god poor Merlin. First of all, I just wanna say straight off that my instinctive headcanon about Merlin was that he never returned to Camelot. I couldn't really say why exactly. I just don't think he could stand being there after Arthur's death. But practically speaking, Merlin's still got Aithusa to deal with, that dragon needs some godsdamned house training asap. He's still the last Dragonlord, it's reasonable to assume he'd immediately take that on considering Aithusa is partially responsible for Arthur's death (the sword Mordred killed Arthur with, only succeeded in killing Arthur because it had been forged in Aithusa's fire-breath) so he's either going to attempt to train the bad behaviors out of Aithusa, or...well...

The only thing is, I do not believe Merlin would abandon Gwen, or Gaius. So my hc is inherently flawed. I do think Merlin probably spend a couple months with his mum, and I do think he ultimately settled near lake Avalon waiting for Arthur's return.

But I do wonder, what must their relationship have been like? Gwen, surely, would've sought his guidance in establishing laws governing the use of magic. And surely, peace cannot last indefinitely, so Merlin absolutely would've defended Camelot and protected Gwen. There's just no way he could've completely turned his back on them, but I doubt he could bear living in Camelot. And Gwen is both strong and practical enough to get on without him there 24/7, even though I'm sure she'd miss him.

I also think she would've found love again. Whether with Leon, as many people hc, or someone else not in the series.

ANYWAY.

Thanks to everyone who came on this journey with me. I will post comments on the extras if I have anything worth saying - and I think I'll do a master post linking all these episode posts after I clean them up once I get time to sit at a computer and do so. Until then! 💙💚

(Gif source) (h/t @shut-up-merlin)

#bbc merlin #bbc merlin spoilers #merlin #merlin spoilers #merthur #onceandfuturerewatch #5x12 #5x13 #5x12 the diamond of the day pt 1 #5x13 the diamond of the day pt 2 #bbc merlin 5x12 #bbc merlin 5x13 #merlin 5x12 #merlin 5x13 #the diamond of the day #the diamond of the day pt1 #the diamond of the day pt2 #for the love of Camelot

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arthurisaclotpole · 5 years

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Reminders about Merlin:

• He is a lightweight when it comes to alcohol according to Gaius.

• Merlin is happy when Arthur shows up/ when he surprises him

• Merlin & Arthur’s bond has been questioned many times

• Merlin’s mother supports Merlin & Arthur’s relationship even promotes the idea that Arthur cares about him.

• Even Uther has even commented to Merlin about his relationship with Arthur and the context although a little questionable... Sounds like an acceptence. (In those days they might have seen a situation like Merlin & Arthurs as a ’Messing around behind closed doors’ kind of thing?)

• Merlin would willingly give up his life for Arthur. He would full on sacrifice himself, like if there came a situation where if he didn't die Arthur would I’m very confident that Merlin would end his own life to save Arthur.

• In the first season of Merlin Gwen comments to Merlin that she knows he is proud of Arthur. Merlin is proud of his bby 🥰 he is just shy.

• Merlin has a deep respect/love for his mother. As soon as he saw her in the first season he was thrilled & as soon as he saw she was hurt even though it was a bruise on her face he went from a cinnamon roll to ’Who dared to hurt you I will destroy them’ boy

•Merlin is a Mama’s boy through and through. Nobody can tell me otherwise, Merlin wuvs his mother.

•Merlin’s friend Will in season 1 died protecting not just Arthur but Merlin too. He lied to Arthur about being the sorcerer that caused the gust of wind that helped them win a fight against raiders.

• Merlin never tells Arthur that the dragon lord was his father.

• Merlin had to choose to either allow a child to be executed to save Arthur’s life or save the child and risk Arthur being gravely harmed.

• Despite being an ’idiot’ Merlin successfully manages to hide his identity as a sorcerer from everybody in the castle apart from a select few.

• Even when having lost so many people he grew to care about, Merlin never stopped smiling and he kept taking each day as it came.

• Gaius has stated once that Merlin is the son that he never had.

•Even after finding out his father’s identity Merlin still considers Gaius to be like a father to him. Gaius is Merlin’s dad ( I approve of that wholesomeness)

#merlin #merthur #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #reminders #uther pendragon #gwen merlin #gaius

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queenofkings121-blog · 5 years

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Duties of a Queen

[\Oh my gosh guys this is so messy! I wrote it in a walmart parking lot awhile back. Forgot about it til now. For what its worth, I hope y'all enjoy this./]

Warning: angst[?], violence [a but graphic]

A lone tear rolled down her cheek as she saw her betrothed placing a sweet kiss on lips that weren't hers.

'My heart belongs to you Gwen. It always has and always will. You know I'm only with her to secure the safety of this kingdom.

She knew that this marriage arrangement didn't begin with love, but she thought they had gotten there. She thought they were in love. Hell, they confessed their love for each other while in between the bedsheets the night before.

The situation would've rendered anyone broken, but Y/N wasn't weak. She straightened her posture, wiped the tear and made her presence known. Arthur and his lover were shocked. Y/N looked into the blue eyes she fell in love with. With a soft humourless chuckle she walked past him towards her chamber.

"Y/N!" Arthur yelled after her. He was hot on her heels. The prince nearly tumbled onto her when she stopped walking.

"If you are to apologize, don't. If you are here because of the treaty, leave." Her answer was simple. He ruined the chances of his kingdom being truly safe.

Y\N's kingdom, Nilanyth, was a small but lethal kingdom. It's got a quarter of the population of Camelot, but the 10 times the skill. All the citizens are required to learn how to defend themselves. Men,women, children. Its a four days ride from Camelot. With this alliance Camelot would've become the most protected kingdom.

Not only that, but what he said to Gwen wasn't the complete truth. Yes he loved Gwen, but he was happy and ready to marry Y/N. He was growing feelings for her but he's ruined those chances as well.

---

Arthur sat with his father for dinner but neither one ate. Uther because he had a lot on his mind, Arthur because the empty seat next to him was a reminder of his actions the previous day. He hasn't seen her all day and he could physically feel her absence. He would expect her to chuckle at something Gwain said, or reprimand Percival for being tall, but all he got was silence. It angered and saddened the Prince but he did not know why. He was about to speak when Y/N walked in.

She was dressed in her travelling gear and it confused both men.

"My King," Y/N said with a slight bow of her head before turning to Arthur. "Your majesty."

"Lady Y/N, is there a reason for this?" Questioned Uther.

"Yes, my King. I'm returning home. " Uther looked confused. "Before you say anything, allow me to explain." Uther nodded at the princess, all the while Arthur looked at her with a hurt expression. It was his fault.

"I will not marry your son. I simply cannot. I thought I could be in a love-less marriage but recent events proved otherwise. But the treaty stays. Nilanyth will assisst Camelot if the need ever arises. We will be allies and become a stronghold. Nilanyth will supply your people its protection, Camelot will supply my people with resources such as cattle and food."

"But your people are well off."

"This treaty is not onesided Uther, and I refuse it to be. My people are well off, but we do not supply without receiving. Selfish, yes, but it secures my kingdom."

"But it is not fair." Arthur piqued.

Aiden narrowed her gaze on the prince. "You know naught of being fair, nor taking care of those whom you claim to love. I do not expect you to understand this." She turned towards the king. "That is all. I return to my kingdom either with a signed treaty or not, it doesn't effect me nor my people at all. I'm merely doing this for your sake."

The King and Prince both relaxed their shoulders knowing that Camelot is safe, and it seems thats all they cared about. Her mother was right. True love is hard to come by when you're royalty. It seems everyone has different needs for a princess, but none for the girl.

"I bid thee a farewell and a safe trip back home Lady Y/N. The treaty will be signed before your departure. For what its worth, I am truly sorry that it didn't work out between you and my son. You would've made a fine Queen of Camelot." Uther replied. Y/N simply nodded and turned to leave. She desperately wanted the Prince to run after her and tell her that he made a mistake. That he truly loved her, but he sat still on his chair.

Y/N mounted her horse later that day with a stoic expression, and with a swift kick she left Camelot and the person who broke her heart.

---

It's been two weeks since the departure of Y/N and Arthur hasn't been the same. He's been moody, snapping at everyone, even Gwen. She was mad that Y/N could have such a hold on him even when she wasn't present. Her and Arthur fought more frequently, and made love less. When they did it was rough and quick, and void of love and affection.

Their fights have gotten more vocal and not a single ear within the walls of the castle were strangers to it.

"It's not a matter of you being a servant Gwen! Its a matter of you not being Y/N!" Arthur yelled and immediately regretted the words. The look on his loves face broke his heart.

"W-what?"

With a sigh, Arthur decided he needed to come clean. "Gwen, there was a time that I truly loved you. You were my world, but it seems that my heart yearns for someone else. Just as yours is." He wasn't stupid. He saw the glances and touches between Gwen and Merlin.

The two talked about what would happen for hours and came to a conclusion to end it. It wasn't healthy and they weren't happy together. Not anymore.

But Gwen went to her lover while Arthur went to his room. He wished to travel to Nilanyth but he knew he was unwelcomed. Especially after how he hurt Y/N. He knew he could go, but it would be for politics. Anything else, he would overstay his welcome. So, he settled for a letter.

---

Its been many moons since he sent his first letter. He would send one every week, and just like the week before, it went unanswered. He hoped and wished that she has been reading them. They would fall on deaf ears. He didn't expect her to answer. He heard of the passing of her parents not long after his second letter was sent. He desperately wanted to go and comfort her, but the funeral for the Royals was private. Only those in the Kingdom were allowed, and close friends of the couple from the other kingdoms.

The late Royal couple of Nilanyth fell ill with a sickness that no warlock, healer, or magician could heal. Y/N was heartbroken. She loved her parents dearly and to have them both gone crushed her soul. She knew the duties of being a Queen and King. Her father taught her that just because she was a female didn't mean she wasn't capable, and so he taught her the ways of a King as her mother did with being a Queen. He also taught her that having a man by her side is a mere accessory. That she didn't need a man to validate her. Her name alone should and is validation enough.

Y/N sat in front of her parents graves, along side of her ancestors, just staring at the headstones. A bitter smile came across her face.

"I miss you guys."

A warm breeze flew by and wrapped around the newfound Leader. The breeze was gentle yet had an aggressive feel to it. It danced around her, almost along to a song she couldn't hear. It felt like a hug from her parents. A hug hinting that everything will be OK. That she wasn't alone, never has and never will.

The Prince of Camelot seized sending his letters for his father had succumbed the same fate Y/N parent's had.

The two were now both crowned rulers of their own respective kingdoms.

---

Camelot was attacked by Morgana and her men and they nearly won if it wasn't for the warriors of Nilanyth. Just as they were about to slaughter the entire Kingdom, Riders of Nilanyth, being led by Y/N, rode in and swept the kingdom of the enemies.

Morgana screeched as she saw her people getting slaughtered by Y/N's warriors. Her eyes changed colors as she chanted a spell to discombobulate the new arrival. She smirked as Y/N's men fall unconscious. Morgana would've killed them, but she knew that whats left of her men would need morality boosts and in order to do so, they needed to kill. Morgana had just made that easier for them, but her thinking of her men would cost her greatly.

Y/N looked around and spotted the reason her men weren't able to fight. She charged her horse towards sorceror, but switched paths at the last second, riding for Morgause. Y/N knew that she had confused the sisters and used it to her advantage.

Y/N raised her sword, gripped the stirrups on her horse, and mightily swung her sword efficiently and effectively decapitating the blonde, as she rode by. She pulled the stirrups and signaled for her horse to stop and turn to face Morgana. She saw the black haired girl stare at her sisters headless body in shock. Y/N held out her blade and flicked her wrist, ridding her sword of the sorcerors blood, all while staring at Morgana.

From the corner of her eye she saw Gwain and Percival slowly approaching them. She shook her head and rode for Morgana once more, only to have her thrown off her horse by the use of magic. The Queen landed and hear a SNAP! and Y/N knew she had broken something, but she had a part to play in history and being dead wasn't it.

She had toughed through the pain, grabbing her sword and circled Morgana. The Queen ran and swung her sword purposely a bit too high. The force of her swing had caused Y/N to stumble forward. She turned quickly and aimed her sword at the enemy. Y/N looked over the sorcerers shoulder and saw the two knights in place. She stepped forwars and swung, partially hitting her target. She huffed and threw a steel star at Morgana. The latter turned her head and raised her hand to catch it. Just as she did Y/N rolled and sliced her sword towards the others midsection. Y/N ended on one knee, both hands gripping the handle of her sword, raised by her shoulder. She stood and turned to face Morgana. The sorceror laughed.

"You mis--" She was cut short as she coughed up blood. She looked down to her midsection and see her guts. Her eyes widened as she tried to fix herself.

Y/N raised her sword to her left, slashing to the right, cutting below her neck. Her sword flew slightly but she was quick to grab the handle, so that the hilt faced her, and swung her hand backwards sticking the sword into Morgana's head, ending her reign.

The two knights scoffed and Y/N smirked at them.

"She knew of your presenc. She assumed that I was going to be distraction, but distraction was not distraction, but merely a distraction to the distraction."

"I have naught a clue of what you just said Lady Y/N." Gwaine said utterly confused and tired. "Do you?" He asked Percival.

"I think?"

Y/N laughed. "Neither do I Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival. Speaking of distractions, where is your King?"

"He and Merlin are taking care of Mordred. Why do you ask?" Gwaine wiggled his eyebrows.

"Duties. Nothing more, nothing less."

The two Knights stared at her receding figure in thought. Both thinking it is shame that their King had let such a wonderful person walk out of his life.

#arthur pendragon x reader #arthur kingsmen #arthur pendragon #sir percival #sir gwaine #sir leon #morgana #morgause #merlin #gaius #y/n #reader imagine #sir lancelot #mordred #uther pendragon #king uther #gwen

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capmerthur · 5 years

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THE BODY SWAP

It’s all in the title :) Somewhere end S1 (after 1.11 Labyrinth, but pre 1.13 Morte). In a land of myth, and a time of magic, Arthur awakes inside Merlin’s body (and no, not in that way). Alternating Merthur POV. Bonus Gaius. Mentions of Will and George.

Excerpt PART XIII:

Once alone, Arthur closes his eyes, reaching *inside*.

It's a tool. He tells himself when he senses the flow. Not a weapon.

There had been something in the way Merlin had talked. It had sometimes felt more like mentioning actual events than thinking aloud; especially - even though surprisingly - about...

It's harmless. Merlin says it can be used to make butterflies.

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDERS CHAPTER XIII)

XIII. PROGRESS (ALTERNATE MERLIN/ARTHUR POV)

"This is what Valiant did! How can we trust this book of tricks?"

There is fire in Arthur's eyes - an anger at Valiant's deeds that Merlin doesn't wish to see grow blinding. Gaius gives Merlin a look, and Merlin understands that Gaius wants to be the one explaining - to protect him, surely. Merlin signals 'no'; but Gaius is speaking anyway before Merlin has even opened his mouth.

"Sire, Valiant's actions were definitely condemnable indeed; but the book is not to blame. It simply explains how to animate figures - it doesn't tell *why* the spell should be used; that intent is entirely the responsability of the one using the spell. So yes, Valiant used such a spell to kill; but such a spell can be used to save or help too; can be useful and good."

Arthur doesn't seem convinced at all, judging by the growling tone in his voice:

"How could such a spell ever be used for good?"

Let's say you need to animate snakes out of a shield at your will to confound an evil man and save a noble one; Merlin thinks but does not say, pleading Gaius to let him deal further with Arthur's ire. Merlin has often pondered of course, even if with little success, about the best way to explain it all to Arthur. But he realizes, suddenly, that using Arthur's own words and opinions might be the most helpful in that regard.

"Remember what you told me, Sire; about Will? So. Having magic is *not* having a weapon. It's simply having *a tool*. You can use an axe to build a shelter or to break down a door - and even then, you might only be breaking that door to save blocked-in people from fire. You can use a shovel to plant an apple tree or to dig a grave - and even then, it might be out of respect and love, in another culture. The axe or the shovel have nothing to say about why they are used for. In the end, maybe, the only thing magic actually reveals is what's truly in one's heart."

This approach works better, apparently. Palpable facts he experienced himself weigh more than rethorical theories in Arthur's thoughts process. Arthur tilts his head, actually considering now, instead of refusing it all at once.

"So. This spell? Let's say you badly injure yourself while alone and away, and you conjure a horse to carry you back home quickly enough to be saved? Let's say a child is crying and you create a butterfly or something, to bring up a smile?"

"A butterfly, Merlin?"

Arthur looks incredulous but sounds, if anything, teasing - which Merlin interprets as a sign of progress, a smile growing on his face. He only shrugs though, playing along.

"What's wrong with a butterfly?"

"Nothing, I guess, indeed. Let's go on then."

They read further for about an hour, Gaius preparing potions behind them. Arthur never shouts out again, but expectantly looks at Merlin on the few occasions he apparently feels like he might maybe be missing the whole picture. And Merlin just goes with it; the surprised yet somehow satisfied glow in Arthur's eyes each time in some way worth the risk of possibly divulging too much...

Until dinner time comes, and Merlin has to go. He takes his leave, telling Arthur he should read on. Arthur's answer leaves him breathless.

"I'd probably see things only one way on my own; who knows what I'll miss... I'd rather bring the book to my chambers while you eat, and you can read further later. Besides, I should work on my water, you know... Be ready for it, in case you find something."

Merlin can only nod, speechless from Arthur's obvious trust.

As he opens the door, Arthur surprises him yet again, talking to his back: "And just so you know, I wouldn't put you in the stocks for sleeping in my bed while you're, well, me."

The tone is more gentle than gloating, and Merlin feels warmed up as he realizes Arthur is being simply honest. It doesn't change his view on the matter though.

"I told you, Sire; I do not find your bed comfortable to start with."

He doesn't dare to look at Arthur as he walks out.

Gaius has proposed to bring the book to his chambers. He said he had to bring Morgana her sleeping draught anyway; but Arthur couldn't help but sense that there was more to it - maybe he'd rather not have 'Merlin' seen with such a book, maybe Geoffrey has made him sworn an oath to never let it out of his sight... Anyway, Arthur doesn't have it in his heart to deny Gaius the demand.

Once alone, Arthur sits again in front of his two bowls. He closes his eyes, reaching *inside*.

It's a tool. He tells himself when he senses the flow. Not a weapon.

There had been something in the way Merlin had talked. It had sometimes felt more like mentioning actual events than thinking aloud (Had Will ever performed any of the spells they read about?); especially - even though surprisingly - about...

It's harmless. Merlin says it can be used to make butterflies.

Arthur takes a deep breath; focuses - visualizing in his head what he wishes to achieve.

When Arthur opens his eyes, the water has switched bowl.

Arthur blinks.

Then a loud "Yes" echoes in the room.

Arthur makes several times the water switch from bowl; then the books on the shelves from order (size, alphabetical, themes (as it was originally)) - he doesn't dare mess with Gaius's ingredients though, of course. At some point, he eyes the chamberpot and tests it too, like Merlin had mentioned they could once Arthur would have gotten how to. And indeed, it works too! Arthur can't help but feel proud, trying to imagine the look on Merlin's face come morning...

Then Arthur realizes maybe they do not have to be under the spell to start with any longer! What if he can just wish it away? Sadly, though, it doesn't work; no matter how much nor how hard Arthur tries. Feeling a bit defeated now, even though he knows he definitely booked progress, Arthur decides he should go to sleep. With any luck, he might need all his energy tomorrow, if tonight turns out to be as fortunate for Merlin as it has been to him...

Gaius hasn't come back yet - he probably stayed with Merlin to study the book; after all, as Court Physician, no one would question how long he stayed by his injured Prince... Arthur opens the door to Merlin's bedroom - he doesn't intend to keep Gaius out of his own bed tonight too...

As soon as possible, Merlin excuses himself from Uther's and Morgana's company to get to his book.

Since Gaius has given it to him, he hasn't really had time to study it - mostly, he's called forth through his magic the necessary spell or information when he needed any. He hopes though that the book will help them again, as it has in the past, and that he will find something useful in the over two thirds of the spells section he hasn't read yet...

It's late into the night when Merlin's heart skip a beat. A spell-breaking spell? This might work, right! After all, one doesn't have to reverse a spell to have it undone! Merlin rereads the pages again, and wishes the morning to hurry in order to show his finding to Arthur and Gaius.

Arthur saw magic as a weapon, of course. Which was sort of getting in the way of having his magic work for more than blocking the spoons attacks, because he felt still somehow that he *shouldn't* use it, no matter the need to use it to fix their problem. But now that Merlin has had him understand, at least for a while, that it isn't by definition a weapon, Arthur somehow feels like it is all right to use it. Which is why it works this time? It makes sense in my head, at least?

And imo Merlin wound't link magic to a weapon both because he wants to unmake that precise link existing already in Arthur's mind; but mostly because, well, he doesn't see it that way - HE USES IT TO MAKE BUTTERFLIES, RIGHT (and I love him for it, HUGE sigh...)

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS)

I. AWAKING (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur awakes; lying on his back - unusual - and rolls over automatically.

He surprisingly falls, down, hard; and jerks fully awake now - on the floor, near a so very tiny bed, tangled in an unknown blanket (harsher than his standards, even while on errands, he can’t help but notice).

In disbelief, he eyes his surroundings…

Where is he? Has he been abducted?

Think, he admonishes himself - trying to clear his mind; to remember what must have happened, to guess who has dared to commit such an act, and, most important of all right now: Find a way out.

His eyes then suddenly meet Merlin’s, and relief surges through him somehow - Merlin is alive - before his anxiety returns; and double: because poor faithful, loyal Merlin has obviously been taken too; and it’s Arthur’s fault - he must have failed to save them both from being taken, even though he cannot remember anything…

Except when Arthur reaches out to Merlin for him to come closer (they need to share information and plan, but must be quiet as a mouse), he realizes with fright but indeniable certainty that Merlin is in fact a reflection in a mirror; and worse: *HIS* reflection!?

It his NOT his hand indeed that is stretching out in front of him; NOT his clothes on his person; and definitely NOT his own hair falling upon his eyes, as he notices the black strings in his vision range…

Arthur is dumbstruck. He sees Merlin’s mouth shaping a silent O, and he sees the dread in Merlin’s eyes… except they ARE - he feels - *his* mouth, and *his* eyes; and everything is just plainly wrong, and plainly impossible - but undeniably REAL.

He is… Merlin? Or better said, *inside* Merlin? How can such a thing have even come to be?

Sorcery, Arthur understands with horror: Camelot is under attack!

But now armed with the knowledge of his predicament, Arthur realizes he is actually in Merlin’s bedroom. He’s been in here before, once; and he recognizes it all now.

So. Not abducted. All things considered, that still counts as something, right…

And, as it surely doesn’t feel as if Merlin is still somewhere in his own head too while Arthur is inside of it, well… Maybe? Logically? Merlin might then be in return inside his own body?

Arthur suddenly finds himself praying for this to be true. It would be for the best, if Merlin was in his body - if they were the only ones concerned by this unnatural situation; because what if *everyone* was awaking inside someone else’s body this morning? That would be… precarious - the general panic leaving Camelot completely vulnerable to whoever must have plotted this? The worst though would be if the one responsible for this was right now in control of his body, and acting as Crown Prince to do, well, evil deeds… So yes, you bet Arthur truly wants to find Merlin to be the one inside his own body when he finally finds it.

Arthur jumps on his feet, ready for action. Luckily (even though Arthur feels a bit guilty, as he notices his armour in pristine state against the opposite wall - apparently Merlin has been polishing it late into the night then) Merlin hasn’t bothered to undress before falling asleep.

So. First thing first: he has to go to his chamber.

Picking some weapon on the way for good measure, you bet …

Simply walking the few paces to open the door though turns out to be a challenge. His limbs are too long, and dangly; it feels like he has two left feet, and he has to try thrice before actually getting a grip on the handle - because he isn’t used to this body, of course - but maybe it is truly NOT Merlin’s fault if he trips over his own feet that often after all…

Gaius is already out - hopefully looking for herbs and not wandering out of his mind… Arthur would have preferred to be able to test right away his theories about how many people were affected by the damn body change; but unfortunately, it would have to wait some more.

The corridors are empty too, except for a stray black cat who walks at his side long enough for Arthur to start questioning himself about asking to the cat if he *is* Merlin - because Merlin HAS to be somewhere, right, as he obviously isn’t where he should be to start with; but then the cat takes another turn… Arthur feels stupid for worrying so much about his silly manservant - but he cannot deny that he definitely will worry less only after having indeed finally found said silly manservant.

Arthur relaxes slighthly though when he enters the kitchen: people are working as usual, apparently not in shock, apparently in their right bodies. He picks up the first tray he finds, along with an extra knife that he hides in his pocket for good measure.

He tries to put on a confident grin as he walks (with the most assurance he can muster in this awkward-feeling body) towards the guards at his bedroom’s door - and can only hope it will look the same as usual to them. They let him pass without trouble, and Arthur isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing. On the one hand, he *doesn’t* doubt Merlin - he simply, intrinsically doesn’t; and would never want him to feel like he did if his guards were to search him whenever he was about to enter his chamber. On the other hand… well, it isn’t Merlin right now entering his chamber, with knifes at the ready… This time, it’s only him; but what if it happens again, and if the one then inside Merlin’s body has ill intentions…

Deciding not to dwell on this for the time being, Arthur enters his bedroom - hoping to find Merlin doing whatever Merlin always does, but preparing for a fight, if need be…

II. AWAKING (MERLIN POV)

Merlin awakes as if in a cocoon; literally. He is surrounded by softness, flush, warmth; he cannot remember ever feeling so comfortable - and the world can wait for just another few seconds before he opens his eyes, right… Merlin wriggles, shifting on his back, sighing softly as he nestles some more into the cushions…

When Merlin awakes for the second time - culpability sinking in as he realizes he has overslept - his eyes open to a Pendragon red canopy he would recognize even among hundreds. Merlin freezes: what the hell is he doing, sleeping IN ARTHUR’S BED?!

Merlin sits upright at once - blankets falling all around him to reveal that he wears ARTHUR’S NIGHTGOWN too ?!

Whaaaaaaaat?!

This… just DOESN’T make any sense. The last thing he can remind is sitting on his own bed, polishing the last bit of Arthur’s armour before letting himself fall down to sleep (*AN). He surely doesn’t recall walking to Arthur’s chamber, and even less…

Merlin’s mind is reeling as he shuffles out of bed as swiftly as he can. Oh my… What is Arthur going to think? And come to think of it - true panic now creeping down on Merlin at that thought: *WHERE* is Arthur to start with?

His attention is drawn out right then by Arthur calling out his name (Merlin feels relief, no matter his current embarrassing situation) - in one of those thousands yet unmistakably always Arthurian ways to say his name: a myriad of moods and meanings in those simple two syllables - the voice sounding odd though this morning (is Arthur sick?), and tensed (well, he just found his manservant in *his* bed, that might explain it!).

Merlin turns to face his sovereign, trying to feel less self conscious because he mustn’t look guilty, while wishing for inspiration, and buying time until it hits: “There is actually a perfectly valid explan-”

But it is NOT Arthur he sees: it is… himself? His breath catches as ‘utter confusion’ gets a new meaning, you bet…

At the same moment, Merlin notices suddenly just how *not his* his voice has just sounded, and how he’s wearing a very particular ring around one finger of what’s NOT his hand, and how *blond* hair is falling upon his eyes… And still nothing makes sense; but at least it *does* explain how he awoke in Arthur’s bed in Arthur’s clothes: he *is* Arthur?; and… Arthur… is him? MUST be him. He has been calling his name right the right way, right?!

“Arthur?” Merlin barely dares to breathe out, both in wonder and in plea (because Arthur CANNOT be gone - the fear and pain and simple *impossibility* of such a concept slicing through Merlin’s mind like a knife).

There is a bright smile then appearing on his face - a smile that doesn’t entirely look like his own though - “Yes, Merlin. It’s me,” followed by a relieved sigh: “And it’s you”. And, despite the shock about them having apparently switched bodies (?!?!), Merlin can’t help but feel warm all over - because Arthur (and yes, it is so clearly Arthur, even in HIS body!) has apparently been worried about him.

(*AN) Headcanon time :

Merlin uses magic to clean Arthur’s armour in the beginning, indeed. And he still uses magic for most of the chores, as much as he can, of course (washing clothes, mending clothes, emptying chamber pots, sweeping fireplaces, preparing baths, refreshing beds, cleaning floors, cleaning everything, really (except for mucking the stables, because there are always others around, grrrr). But he quickly grows nearly *maniac* about Arthur’s food (picking at it as a way to make sure it’s not poisoned etc…) and about Arthur’s armour: it’s one of Arthur’s protections - so you bet Merlin definitely cleans and polishes and repairs and oils the leather ligaments that hold it together and EVERYTHING the hell out of it, with extra ardor and fervor, with his own two hands, all the while continuously trying to put on it any protecting spells he ever finds, and repeating those over and over at each occasion… Also, mirrors were probably not so advanced at the time… But let’s say Merlin has an enhanced one, after all he has magic, right…

On a side note, I’m never going to be over Arthur’s priority-thinking (I’m in trouble = CAMELOT IS UNDER ATTACK (babyyyy let me hold you - being Camelot Prince/King is NOT your only worth) and Merlin’s priority-thinking (what the hell is happening = WHERE THE HELL IS ARTHUR (babyyyy let me hold you - your devotion to The (brave, kind, admirable (shut up Merlin)) Prat doesn’t have to mean that you always must come second (and a bit self-preservation cannot be harmful)) *SIGH* I just love those two idiots so much !!!

III. DISABLED (MERLIN POV)

But soon, Merlin is terrified.

And not because of the puzzling body swap.

*HE HAS NO MAGIC!?*

(Not that Merlin knows of any spell to reverse their current situation at once, mind you; so he doesn’t actually try anything about it. But Merlin simply knows: there is nothing but blood running through his veins now - no vigorous warmth, no energic flow; there is simply nothing singing under his placid flesh, as he focuses on it.)

He cannot help but wish he’s wrong though, and desperately tries to move a quill on Arthur’s desk behind Arthur’s back - the simplest of things, really; yet he fails, indeed…

His magic is tied to his body. Not to his mind.

No, no, no, no, nooooooooooo.

Merlin is, to his core, *terrified* - as he has never been. Not only because he feels more powerless and utterly helpless than he has ever felt - and worse, unable to protect Arthur! But also because the longer Arthur stays in his body, the more chances he has to find out that he has magic!? (And even though Merlin has nearly told Arthur, once? He is still not ready for him to know right now… Will after all didn’t lie to protect Merlin’s secret on his deathbed for Merlin to take chances with his life so soon after…)

Merlin though decides to push his panic aside for the moment: he simply MUST focus. No matter which sorcerer has this week decided to deal with the Pendragon line once and for all, Arthur’s life is undoubtedly in the balance; and that’s dearer to Merlin than all the magic in the world - included his own.

Because Merlin’s life *has* tilted, on that rocky beach by The Great Seas of Meredor.

Merlin’s earnest readiness to lay his life down to save Arthur’s had been instinctive, beyond doubt visceral; and the concrete force of the impulse had surprised him. Because it hadn’t been related to his first supposed then anyway indeed wished upon destiny. It had merely been a reflex, a spontaneous reaction: what he had wanted to do; more than what he ought to do. And Merlin had realized right then that he had, somehow, but undeniably, actually come to *LOVE* Arthur? He had known, for some time, that he liked him. And he had felt oddly pleased when Arthur had turned up at Ealdor - maybe Arthur liked him too? But if your first thought when someone is threatened is ‘I’d rather die than see him die’? Well, there is a kind of selfishness, even in seflessness, that goes beyond ‘liking’, right…

It shouldn’t have been such a shocking revelation though. Sure, Arthur could be a spoiled, royal prat; an irritating, pompous ass; an arrogant, moronic bully - to list but the top of the iceberg of his massive shortcomings, and without even mentioning the complete dollophead he could sometimes be. But Arthur could also be truly brave, honest, and kind; willing not only to trust but also to actually defend the words of mere servants, ready to defy his father’s orders in order to save a child’s life, and volunteering to help a village not even belonging to his Kingdom, to note only a few examples. Also: at some point, Merlin had realized how what could at first appear as near manhandling tactility was in fact just Arthur’s disguised way to show (or ask?) affection (because one probably just doesn’t walk around asking for cuddles while growing up between Uther’s judging cold glares and Morgana’s sharp witty tongue; and the physical occasional playfulness of the knights training must have seemed like the only way to go…). And last but not least: Merlin owed Arthur his life - if Arthur hadn’t gone looking for a Mortaeus flower… So, in short: of course Merlin had gotten fond of the man. For his own values; and not because he was meant to be the other side of his coin or something. And notwithstanding how so annoyingly beautiful he always was (for the record on that particular subject: Gwen is so adorably beautiful, and Morgana so petrifyingly beautiful).

But, as Arthur - bound to be King one day Arthur - hadn’t even hesitate before choosing to sacrifice himself, in order to fix what he had recognized to be his error, instead of using the (even offered) life of a simple servant? Well… There is a difference still between having the conviction that Arthur is a good man ready to fight for the greater good, even knowing it could be his death; and knowing as a FACT that Arthur *is* a good man ready to *die* for the greater good, even knowing it *will* be his death. And you bet having been proven *exactly* how pure of heart Arthur intrinsically is has only cemented that burgeoning love deeper into Merlin’s heart - simply; truly; and maybe irrevocably. Merlin would now willingly die a thousand deaths to save his Prince.

(Feel free to shout with me about 1.11 because *MAJOR FEELS*!)

(And then hug me as I shamelessly cry because this is still NOTHING next to what’s to come - aka Arthur becoming ACHINGLY beautiful, as Merlin turns ready to KILL a thousands times to save his King, blackening his own heart in the process and thinking himself then unworthy of Arthur’s love because Arthur is just so BRIGHT; but wishing for it nonetheless?)

IV. PLANNING (MERLIN POV)

Arthur, miraculously (even though understandably; because he must be shaken too, right), is unaware of Merlin’s internal crisis as he shares what he’s uncovered until now: “It seems to be just us. The kitcheners and the guards all seem to be themselves.”

“So. Whoever has done this is targetting you - personnally.”

“Nice to see your wits are still so very particularly sharp, Merlin. Is there any reason for the one behind all this to be targetting you?”

It is beyond odd to *hear* Arthur’s usual tone in his own voice; but Merlin still has the grace to sigh, before pushing his point further: “But why you?”

“Well, obviously *you*’ve forgotten, but I am Camelot’s Crown Prince, responsib-.”

“Which is exactly what’s bothering me!” Merlin can’t help but interject. “Why take on the Prince when you can take on the King?”

“Oh… Do you think… Could someone be… training on us, then? Before attacking-”

“I honestly have no idea. Maybe you got targetted indeed because you’re head of security. We shouldn’t rule anything out.”

Arthur brings his fist down on the table, determinedly: “Well, whatever the evil plan might be, we just cannot permit for it to work. We’ll have to find a way to stop this nonsense - no offense. In the meantime, we must act as if nothing unusual is going on. It might be for the time being our best chance at keeping Camelot safe - making whoever planned this think the spell didn’t work?”

Merlin can’t help but let out a helpless (yet realistic) sigh: “That’s… a lot; on both accounts.”

Arthur echoes with a helpless sigh of his own: “I know.”

But if they are to keep up pretenses, Merlin is going to need to be prepared: “So. What’s on your agenda for today - besides the monthly open pleas this morning and the daily training this afternoon?”

“Nothing particular. And there are no coming feasts nor abroad visits planned for the coming time, thankfully. (worried sigh) But there’s concil, tomorrow.”

“Well, let’s start at the beginning. I should do fine enough for the pleas. It’s mostly your father’s duty; your presence is required, of course, but mostly you’re to hear and listen…” Fear grips Merlin at once: “But it’s public; so it would be a great opportunity to try to murder you!” He MUST protect Arthur’s body: “Will you please go fetch your chainmail in my room?”

“No.”

The tone is definitive, and Merlin is torn between begging, or growing impatient - because Arthur can be so obtuse sometimes (now really isn’t the time for Arthur to be feeling indignation about being ordered around like a simple servant; even though he *is* one at the moment - not that Merlin would ever think he was one, of course - but what if Arthur thinks he does and enjoys the chance at some payback?): “Arthur, please (again?). It’s the expected type of errands of the body you momentarily (because it MUST be momentarily, right?) inhabit - I can’t - You’re the target. I need your chainmail. I have no fighting skills, nor any kind of skills really to protect yo-”

“I cannot be seen wandering the castle in my chainmail without reason, Merlin; it would attract attention”, Arthur interrupts in a somehow gentler tone; and Merlin realizes that Arthur hadn’t registered at first how Merlin’s concern was about him, more than himself - and is obviously humbled by the thought. “Court clothes are required, anyway. We’re not supposed to look threatening, nor threatened, when our subjects come to present their wishes,” Arthur pursues, killing any possible protest in the bud. “Besides, the guards will be present. So don’t worry too much about anything happening to us”, Arthur ends in a lower voice; as if the last part had been more a thought to reassure himself than a phrase meant to be uttered - and Merlin just has to savour that precious 'us’…

Merlin though isn’t reassured enough about his Prince’s safety: “Please (yes, that’s thrice; adamant much?) Sire, at least allow me to wear your thickest leather under your tunic” - willing his voice to make it sound like a not-to-be-denied demand more than a true question.

Arthur holds his gaze; and it actually feels like a blessing when he finally relents: “As you wish; but it won’t be comfortable against naked skin.”

“I’ll manage.” Merlin can’t help but fidget some before pursuing - asking Arthur to do what is and should be *his* work feeling not only weird but even wrong: “But I’ll need your help to tie it in the back?”

Arthur dimissively tousles his hair, grumbling: “I *know*, Merlin.” 'My clothes’ going unsaid.

Merlin can be relieved about one thing, at least: Arthur obviously isn’t piqued about doing a servant’s work…

Merlin picks out the largest fitting of Arthur’s clothes. He puts on the braies and trousers while still wearing the gown, respectfully tying the belt blindly around his waist. He puts on socks, and shoes. Then only does he take the gown off, and turns his back towards Arthur so that he may help with adjusting the leather’s straps.

A surprised but definitely pleased whisper (“Impressive, ain’t I?”) echoes in Merlin’s ears, as the Prat Prince seems apparently unable not to comment about his damn broad back, angling Merlin shortly that way and this way as if to assess it even better.

'Believe me, I know’, Merlin can’t refrain from thinking; feeling a blush coming over his face, and thankful that Arthur is too busy looking at his own back to notice any of it.

“I think I might even have outgrown Sir Leon - in width at least if not in height”, Arthur concludes proudly before finally starting to work the ties - leaving Merlin suddenly ashamed of his initial internal reprimand, and oddly upset. Of course Arthur would only wish to see in his physique the strength of a warrior. Of course his first thought, when finally able to actually see his own back, would be to compare it to his given models - the Knights; and most of all among them, to his own chosen model, Leon - both the noblest and strongest of them all, yet young enough to play the part of the older brother Arthur could look up to while growing up… No one has probably ever told him that he is beautiful, Merlin realizes sadly. But the fact that Arthur is so unaware only makes him even more beautiful in Merlin’s eyes…

Merlin forces himself to tease Arthur, hiding his turmoil under their usual banter: “Well, I could ask Gabriel to take measurements, if you so badly wish-”

“Shut up, Merlin”, accompanied by a rewarding hit in the back of his right shoulder, which Merlin gladly revels in, no matter the unusual fist size. This, no matter their predicament, feels normal.

And in that short moment of normalcy, when everything feels just right as Arthur ends tying the leather, Merlin notices something he hasn’t noticed before, when all he could feel was STRESS.

Oh no.

“Arthur?” Merlin can’t help but wince at the intimidated tone in his voice as he turns around; and Arthur is eyeing him now with furrowed eyebrows. “I think I need - I mean you need… to… have to go?”

Arthur makes a face - with his face; except it still looks somehow like a typical outraged Arthur face (damn, this is just too confusing…): “Merlin!”

“He! Do not look at me like this is my fault! It’s *YOUR* body! Maybe you shouldn’t have drun-”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have brought a full pitcher at dinner then!”

They eye each other, both unrelenting over who is at fault.

And Merlin can’t help but think that somehow he is, indeed, no matter what. Because there are levels in intimacy; and he IS definitely crossing a line. There is a difference between being around and trying to avoid his gaze when Arthur walks in and out of his bath, or applying Gaius’s healing balm to bruises on Arthur’s back because it’s a place Arthur can’t reach on his own, and, well… watching and touching Arthur’s *manhood*, even if only for urinating, technically ensuring no mess is done while doing it?

Arthur suddenly sighs though, and his voice sounds kinder as he offers: “This will surely happens a few times before we sort it all out, huh. To the both of us. So. How should we proceed?”

Merlin scratches his head, summoning some courage: “Do you want to… hold-”

“Your hand, Merlin!”, Arthur demonstrates, lifting the would-be-culprit in the air and wiggling its fingers for good measure; and that’s a 'No way’ if Merlin ever heard one…

“Would you rather it to be your hand-”

“It’s *your* hand right now!” Indeed. So. Another 'No way’.

But suddenly Merlin has a solution, of sort: “What if I… go sit into the stream? There’s a quiet spot not so far from the castle I found while collecting herbs for Gaius… If I hurry I still can make it back before the pleas.”

Arthur actually claps his hands, obviously relieved: “Sometimes, I swear, you are a genius.” He hurries over, handing Merlin his tunic and grabbing the Pendragon red doublet before marching out: “Let’s go!”

“You’re coming?” (hastening to put the tunic on and grabbing a towel before following)

“Well, as I just said, it’s bound to happen to me - you - so I might just as well tag along, and know where it is.”

Once out of potentially spying ears reach, they plan the day further.

“We HAVE to tell Gaius, at the least, about our situation: no one will contest his word if he says you’re not to train for a while - because honestly how am I supposed to spare with your Knights? They will notice right away that something isn’t right. And, well…”

Merlin hesitates, not wanting to incriminate Gaius in any way. As it turns out, he doesn’t have to:

“You’re right. Besides, Gaius has heard about a lot of… stuff, in all his years. I was planning to go around Jeffrey and look for the forbidden books, but I have no ideas how many volumes are hidden down here, nor where they even *are* to start with… If anyone we know might have even the slightest clue about how to fix our problem, it’s him; even if it’s only about finding an adequate book.”

Merlin nods, relieved: “So. After the pleas, I stage a fall, and we go to Gaius, who tells you’re not to train for the time being. That leaves the rest of the day free, both for looking up about our situation, and briefing me on what I should be aware of for tomorrow’s concil. Do you address things in an established order; who’s whose specialisms; what you discussed by the latest concils which might be brought up again tomorrow; and so on…”

“I’m supposed to make the battle plans, Merlin? But as far as plans go, I have to admit this isn’t a bad one. Except I’m not you; I do not trip on my feet twice a day. So. I’ll make you fall. That’s more plausible.”

“No way! You’ll end up in the stocks!” Merlin realizes how - no matter what he might have been thinking just a few months ago - he simply doesn’t want Arthur in the stocks. Ever. “Which is NOT where you should be spending your afternoon.” Merlin quickly amends; hiding his concern under logic’s sake, knowing it to be the best way to persuade Arthur anyway. “So. You fall. I try to help you. But we both fall. I’m clumsy, as ever; you’re noble, as always; everyone get to laugh at me, and praise you; and your father might skip punishing me for you getting hurt in the process, as you obviously didn’t want me hurt to start with?” (pause, before adding earnestly, yet fiercely, as Merlin isn’t able to tone back the surge of threat in his eyes at the mere idea of having anyone disrespecting Arthur in that way) “If he doesn’t though, I’ll stand guard next to you.”

“Would you?” Arthur seems surprised; but touched: “Well, who knows, maybe I’ll return the favor the next time.”

Merlin can’t refrain a whine: “The next time?”

“Even I can’t save you from my father’s wrath every time; it’s bound to happen, either from your two left foots or your snarky mouth.”

They can hear the water now, and Arthur accelerates towards it, as Merlin lags behind, unable not to smile:

“I guess I’m supposed to say 'thank you’?”

“I might have forgotten to mention I’ll probably throw something in your face myself at the last moment. Prince’s privilege and all that…” - Arthur even turns towards him, giving him one of his goofy faces to boot (Merlin didn’t know *his* face could do *that*, by the way).

Merlin just keeps on smiling anyway. He probably hasn’t felt that brightly, positively, ridiculously happy since “I’m rehiring you - because someone needs to muck out my stables”. Arthur has a particular way to express fondness, and Merlin wouldn’t change it for the world.

V. THERE’S SOMETHING ABOUT MERLIN (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur is the first to reach the stream, and crouches down to test the water with his hand.

“It’s cold”, he warns, while Merlin walks in a straight line towards a tree with a low hanging branch and starts undressing - he does come here often, clearly.

Merlin shrugs: “Be grateful it’s not winter yet. Try bathing around Imbolc - that’s cold.” Merlin goes on; stating an afterthought while hanging his pants on the branch: “Still worth it though; everything here is just more… alive, you know. You don’t get that indoors.”

And Arthur has bathed on patrols enough to know that, honestly?: he prefers his warm baths. He can’t help but feel a smile on his face though at the words; they are so intrinsically Merlin.

Arthur had been struck, when they had met. No one had ever defied him, in any way. And it had stung; Arthur could admit. So. He had not been displeased at all when he had overmastered the fool and turned him over. The affront had been too public to be allowed to slide, and Arthur had decided he wouldn’t dwell a further thought about the goodhearted fool (Arthur knew terrorrizing people wasn’t right. He tended though to react badly whenever anyone acted cowardly (which was, well, all the time, around him); especially as he was actually *praised* for it somehow), but fool nonetheless, who should have known to mind his own business…

It had been nothing though in comparison to his surprise when their paths had crossed again. Arthur hadn’t been able NOT to taunt him - hoping, somehow… But the last thing Arthur had been actually expecting had been for Merlin to act *exactly the same*. Surely, now that he knew who he was, he would just scrabble around him as anyone else - not defy him again, knowing it would get him in chains again, right? Arthur had been *delighted* by Merlin’s untamable fire - the words, and then the look he had thrown at him while taking his jacket off? (Maybe Arthur had just been waiting all his life for someone to finally stand his ground to him, indeed…) Of course Arthur had let him go without punishment that second time - and any time since then (which was honestly difficult, as Merlin - always fighting for what was right more than for himself Merlin - frequently got riled up, be it in private OR IN PUBLIC, by literally anyone and anything).

Since he has been to Ealdor though, Arthur can’t help but see things under a new light.

Hunith is everything Arthur believes a loving mother to be. But there had been no father at home, nor any mention of one. (Arthur knows the sting of this kind of wound - missing a parent; and he had been saddened, as he had realized that Merlin bore such a wound too.) Arthur hadn’t dared to ask, but he had wondered: did Merlin ever got a father to start with; or had he been abandoned - intentionally or not? (Arthur knows how even an accident still feels akin to a betrayal in a child’s heart.) Which would be the worst anyway? But what if Merlin had been bullied through his childhood because of it? - children could be particularly malicious, when they intended to… Was it how Merlin had learned, the hard way, that fighting - both with his words and his fists - was the only way to end the pestering? And had decided it wouldn’t be only for his own sake, but for the sake of anyone who might ever need help? Was it what had brought Merlin close to Will - the fact that they both had lost their father? Was it the reason Will had wanted to learn magic to start with? (Arthur knows the near constant anger, too. As does Merlin, obviously.)

Arthur can’t help but feel grateful anew, somehow, and no matter what, still, that Merlin has had Will around: surely, no matter how bad the fights Merlin had jumped into, Will must have kept him safe - at least safe enough - *with his magic*. The thought had been unbidden the first time it had occured, and had definitely surprised Arthur; but he hadn’t been able to deny that it was what he truly felt indeed.

Because of course Arthur had come to care for Merlin. Isn’t it why he had gone to Ealdor to start with after all…

Merlin.

Definitely not an ordinary manservant. And probably not the champion manservant by any book (fast learner, and smart, and hard working, he was; but only about what *he* deemed important - hence for example his total disregard for any kind of storage? - but Arthur generally agreed with what Merlin deemed important or not anyway). But honestly the only manservant Arthur now could imagine ever having - or ever want to have.

Because Arthur likes Merlin as his manservant exactly just the way he is, and would now never wish for another - no matter (and specifically because of) how well-schooled and zealous to satisfy his every need (and whim) that hypothetic other might be… Arthur now sees what others might judge flaws as assets (Merlin’s clumsiness and chattiness are more endearing and uplifting than unefficient, especially as his opinions always sound reasonable; his sarcasm and insults are a sure way to keep Arthur’s head from ever getting inflated; and his challenging manners push Arthur to do and be better - from training with the knights to saving people’s lifes), and what others might judge insubordinate as being treated, for once, finally, as an equal, somehow (even though they both know and acknowledge they aren’t) - no matter whenever it comes out at Arthur’s expanse too, food getting shoved into his mouth and getting unceremoniously pulled out of bed included in their everyday banter, as Merlin can give just as much as he gets indeed. But that’s maybe what Arthur values the most: how Merlin’s respect feels earned and honest; neither forced by birthright or fear for repercussions, nor cajoling nor calculated.

Arthur has never had a private servant for longer than a year - his Father’s rule; but you bet Arthur is decided about keeping Merlin at his side when the year would end. He will have to strategize; he will need irrefutable arguments. But if he plays his cards well - and Merlin never ceases to hand him over cards to play - Arthur has no doubt that his Father will actually allow it: it’s in the best interest of the Kingdom after all.

Merlin.

A whirlwind. Always animated, always busy; never still, even when he’s doing nothing. But always so expressive - so easy to read - a fact Arthur has come not only to appreciate after decades around perpetually guarded scheming faces, but even to *trust*.

A chatty nature-loving poet with dangly limbs, gentle heart, and the brightest smile Arthur has ever seen - Arthur has come to know. Yet the sassiest mouth and the most unrelenting fighter Arthur has ever met; his utter lack of skills balanced by sheer defiance - Arthur has learned right from the start. (Merlin just never backs off, no matter the odds; which is very stupid, but also very brave.)

A confusing, clashing mess of contraries. But an admirable man, with a beautiful soul.

And you bet Arthur wouldn’t have him be any different.

Arthur shakes his head. Maybe - just like with his two left feet - it isn’t Merlin’s choice to be such a poet all the time. Arthur hasn’t been inside Merlin’s body for more than a few hours, and already he is turning into a maudlin bard himself, huh…

Arthur sighs; bringing himself back to the present - only to be struck by Merlin yet again.

Merlin has by now disrobed of everything except for the leather, which he has rolled up to his chest (logic; it would take too much time to tie it up all once more), and the tunic, which he now holds tightly in a bundle against his chest too, even if (and no doubt exactly because) it must get in his vision range as he enters the water. The lengths Merlin now goes again, simply to avoid to *see* - treating his body with the utmost respect, even when it is betraying him?

It should be insignificant, but the whole endeavour screams once more just how *devoted* Merlin always is, to him; and it is honestly dumbfounding.

He has been willing to die for me. And more than once.

The thought slices through Arthur’s mind; as usual charged with guilt, and heartbreaking, yet oddly sweet.

Arthur doesn’t understand: he has truly done very little to earn such high esteem - and that’s an euphemism. Getting the man in the stocks? Letting him drink poison destined for him? Having his only friend die?

But you bet Arthur cherishes it all the same. And he wants - oh, he WANTS - to be worthy of it. Not because it’s what he ought to do, repaying kindness with kindness, loyalty with loyalty; and definitely not because he owes Merlin a friend - you can’t replace a friend (even if Arthur never actually had a friend, he knows that it’s supposed to be a special, powerful, unique bond). Not even because Merlin does indeed makes him want to be a better man - even if that’s true, and definitely positive for the future of Camelot. But simply because HE. WANTS. TO. Arthur has realized by now how he is always tempted, whenever they are together: either to act silly in order to cause a smile; or to provoke Merlin until he bites. Both reactions feel peculiarly satisfying; spreading a pleasant warmth through his whole being - and Arthur just always has to smile…

So.

On impulse, Arthur disrobes Merlin’s lower half and enters the (indeed very cold) water while holding his tunic bundled up too, keeping his eyes stubbornly fixed on his own body sinking until the water reaches up to above its waist, as Merlin sits on his knees in the middle of the stream. And yes, the fact that Arthur has just chosen to abide by Merlin’s stubborn dedication on that matter, instead of letting his perpetual interest about literally everything run free, for once, (because yes, if he hadn’t witnessed Merlin’s commitment, Arthur might have taken a look at Merlin’s body, out of sheer curiosity; he wouldn’t though, not from now on…), is both a pledge and a self-serving whim.

Merlin, drawn by the sounds, turns to him with questioning eyebrows, and Arthur sheepishly drops on his knees next to him: “I thought it unfair to let you have all the fun on your own. Now, ready to scare the fish?”

Merlin howls with laughter. Arthur decides it’s definitely worth playing silly while freezing his ass off.

(Imbolc = 31 january)

Feel free to come and fangirl with me over 1.01 and then scream with me over 1.10 !

On a side note, I’m sorry but not sorry about that fish line? It was *totally* unplanned but then it just rolled out and I went 'yep, sure, arthur would, totally; it stays!’ ?

VI. THE PRINCE’S PART (ALTERNATE ARTHUR/MERLIN POV)

They get out; get dried; put their clothes back on. Merlin ties the towel to the branch, for future use.

Then, on their way back to the castle, Arthur asks Merlin about his agenda for the day.

Merlin gives him a look - like he’s unsure whether Arthur means it. Arthur gives him a look back - meaning he isn’t joking indeed.

Merlin smiles, eyes full of mirth: “Your chambers are a complete mess, your clothes need washing, your boots need cleaning, your dogs need exercising, your fireplace needs sweeping, your bed needs changing and, oh, *someone* needs to muck out your stables.” Merlin sobers up. “But we have more pressing matters at hand; so I think you can consider yourself free for the day.”

Arthur is taken aback. He recognizes his own words, of course. It’s both baffling and humbling - that Merlin can quote him, months later? and that Merlin has omitted one part and one part only in his old speech, because they both know his armour doesn’t need any repairing (the devotion Merlin shows those metal pieces echoing the devotion he shows to Arthur himself)? Arthur had first planned to give a playful thankful bow; but it would feel wrong.

“So. I’ll go bother Geoffrey. Try to get him to show me where the secret books are hidden. I’ll tell him Gaius has found a strange herb and wants to make sure it isn’t dangerous or something…”

Merlin has to give Arthur that: he is indeed insightful.

The mention of Gaius’s name though has Merlin slightly panicking again: Gaius doesn’t know yet about their current situation. What if he mentions 'something’ upon walking on Arthur thinking he is him? No. Merlin has to be there when they’ll get to see Gaius.

“Speaking about Gaius? Stay clear from his chambers. I doubt he’ll be as magnanimous as I am. He’ll do that thing with his eyebrow and have you pick herbs and brewing healing potions and concocting ointments before you even got a chance to tell him about our predicament - he’s really dedicated in my education as a physician, you know…”

“And I believe you rather enjoy it.”

“I do, indeed. I mean… It’s fascinating - do you know that the same stuff can cure you or kill you sometimes, depending on the dosis? Anyway, who wouldn’t want to know how to save lives?” Merlin can’t help but twitch. “I’m not sure I’m any good at it though…”

There is a flash of guilt in Merlin’s disheartened eyes, and Arthur realizes two things:

1) Merlin feels responsible for having been unable to save his friend Will. Which is understandable, because Merlin must have gathered by now some knowledge from Gaius’s lessons; but heartbreaking - because Arthur has seen enough arrow’s wounds to know that Will’s could never have healed - and perplexing - because Will has died to save *him*, not Merlin; so why would Merlin think the guilt was his to start with? and how come Arthur has never felt like Merlin might blame him for it either?

2) Merlin’s face is always *transparent* - a fact Arthur truly appreciates on Merlin’s face - but a fact that could turn out problematic, now that it’s on his own face…

“Let’s get back to my chambers. There is still something you should master better before the pleas.”

And that’s how Merlin finds himself positioned by Arthur in front of a mirror.

“What do you see, Merlin?” Arthur asks.

“Well, you?” Merlin feels he’s missing Arthur’s point, but he has no clue…

“Do you? Because I see my body, I see my clothes; but I do not see the Prince of Camelot - I’d like to think I play it better than that - and I must be, because my Father would not allow *this* I assure you - at least I hope or the kingdom is doomed.” Arthur ends on a sigh, shakes his head, and then turns commanding eyes back towards Merlin via the mirror. “Close your eyes, Merlin. Think of me. I mean, *picture* me; and more especially, picture me at any official activity you’ve served me through. See how I walk, how I stand, how I sit, how I move, how I look?”

Merlin does as asked, searching through his memories. After a while, he nods.

“Got it?”

“I think?”

“Then open your eyes, Merlin. What do you see?”

Merlin understands now. He can’t help but sigh helplessly. “Not the Prince of Camelot. Obviously. I’m sorry Arthur, I guess I’m just not… majestic enough to play you.”

“It’s not that hard, Merlin. Come on; I’ll explain. Ready?” Arthur grins at him via the mirror, exuding confidence - trust in him?; and Merlin would face (has faced) monsters to earn it indeed.

Merlin nods, their eyes still linked via the mirror.

“First thing first? You’re slouching.”

“Yes. (Merlin tries not to slouch; but is still not satisfied with the result) I think though the biggest problem is- There’s something wrong with your face.”

“Because you wear your heart on it, Merlin; and you mustn’t. Believe me, you do not want to be lectured for hours about this by my Father…”

Arthur moves away, and Merlin can’t see him anymore in the mirror. His voice is directing though, and Merlin focuses on the words to school his face.

“You’re a prince, so you *must* always look like one. No matter what you do, you must always, *always*, look confident. That’s the first strength of a kingdom - the strenghth of its ruler. That’s what keeps your people safe. So. Chin up, Merlin. Square your shoulders. Stand tall - stand *proud*.”

Merlin realizes the words are not Arthur’s; they’re Uther’s. He wonders how often indeed Arthur has heared those words - most probably often enough to give himself a internal pep talk before any official anything apparently…

“That’s better; but still not good enough. No matter how you feel inside must not show, Merlin. When you’re tired, hide it. When you’re sick, hide it. When you hurt, hide it. When you’re stressed, hide it. When you worry, hide it. When you doubt, hide it. When you’re bored, and even more when you disagree; hide it - it’s disrespectful; and we do not want wounded pride to fester, don’t we Merlin? When you’re afraid, definitely hide it. When you’re sad, hide it. And the trickiest part maybe: when you’re happy, hide it too - or risk whatever is making you happy to be taken away: weakening you is weakening the kingdom; and its enemies will never hesitate to bring you down, if you let them see even an inch of an opportunity.”

Merlin is shaken. He feels guilty, somehow. This is, certainly, too intimate. Merlin feels like he’s intruding. This feels even more trespassing than being in Arthur’s body. It’s like being forced in Arthur’s head, without his consent. It’s nauseating.

“Again, Merlin. Your eyes; focus. It’s a part; but it’s part of your job. So for the love of Camelot, Merlin, please try harder. Your people reckon on you to lead them and protect them; so it’s your duty to be a leader, and to be strong. Work hard; harder than anyone else. You *must* be an example, an inspiration. You must be admirable in everything, so that your people will follow you everywhere. But you must lead, Merlin; never follow. A ruler is alone - *must* be alone. Do not trust anyone; at least do not trust anyone more than anyone else, and surely not more than you trust yourself. Your own judgement must *never* be clouded.”

Merlin can’t help but turn towards Arthur at the words, both in disbelief and in ache… Because Merlin has grown up hiding, but he had never realized that Arthur had, too; and maybe even more than him. Arthur must not only always pretend and perpetually watch over his shoulder; he must pretend and watch over his shoulder *alone*. And Merlin can only imagine how hard that must have been, and be. Back at Ealdor, Merlin had (and still has) his loving mother, and he had Will. Even here, now, Merlin has Gaius. And somehow, yes: he has Arthur too, Merlin suddenly realizes; and then feels ashamed, because he can’t help but feel blessed - Arthur trusts him. Because Arthur is definitely less guarded around him, isn’t he? When it’s just the two of them; Arthur and Merlin? Arthur laughs, Arthur doubts, Arthur *shows*; maybe not everything - but that’s probably not possible as he is so trained - but something at least always shines through; even if it’s by putting his feet on his face… But Merlin knows now, how rare and precious it truly is. They can never be friends, maybe; but Arthur trusts him. That’s undeniable; and that’s everything, somehow.

“Do not look at me; look at the mirror, Merlin. Harden your eyes. Smile; always politely, even when you don’t want to smile at all; more genuinely, when it’s true - but never let it go up to your eyes. First thing about tomorrow too; as we’re at it. Hear everyone out. Listen with your full attention to everyone; whether you agree or not. Never decides right away; except if it’s necessary, in war time. Your decisions must be thought upon; never a spur of the moment. If something is unclear, do not let it show during concil. If you favor a position, do not let it show during concil. If you disagree, do not let it show during concil. You need further advice, or even only further information? Seek the appropriate person in private; ask man to man. They will see the honor in it if it’s positive, and be thankful you kept it private if it’s negative. Also. You must be ready to be impartial, Merlin; because you do not need to be kind, but you must always be fair. You may - and you will, unfortunately - make mistakes; but never ackowledge them. Fix them. If you can’t; repair as much damage as possible. Learn from your errors, in order to never make the same mistake again. But never apologize. Come on Merlin; I’m sure you can do it. You’re nearly there.”

More over, Merlin realizes the Arthur he gets to see nowadays - the true Arthur - has always been there already, even under the pretense of the moron. Kilgarrah is wrong. His destiny isn’t to change Arthur; because there is nothing to change. Arthur already has everything to be a great king, the greatest king, all on his own.

And so, Merlin is *angry*. He has now yet another reason to despise Uther, it seems - scarring his child on the inside in such a way. Of course Arthur always feels inadequate; of course Arthur feels lacking; of course the only bond Arthur values is the one with his fellow knights - ride to glory or death, together? It’s the only bond Uther has authorized him to authorize himself to ever have… But Merlin’s anger is a good thing, apparently - because whenever Merlin thinks about Uther, Arthur finds that he’s playing the Prince’s part better.

“There Merlin, you have it. See? Right there. Lock it; just like that. That’s good enough for anyone looking today; because believe me, someone *will* be looking, even if only my Father and not the one who switched us or anyone else with ill intentions - there is *always* *someone* looking, Merlin.”

Fine. Think about Uther; until the pleas are done. Merlin can do it; and he’ll gladly do it. He’ll probably gladly do anything; for Arthur. He can still have a cry or hit a wall afterwards, right…

Arthur needs a hug. I volunteer. Anyone with me? (besides Merlin, obviously…)

VII. DOOMED (ARTHUR POV)

With a last commanding yet encouraging nod, Arthur leaves Merlin by the Great Hall’s entrance and starts to make his way towards the Library.

He is stopped by Merlin’s name being called out twice - because he has failed to react right away; Arthur chastises himself. It is the headmaster recruiting hands: his Father wants his bath ready when the pleas end.

Arthur doesn’t want to bring Merlin in trouble, of course; so he takes on the ordered job - after all, how complicated can it be?

He is paired with a newcomer answering the name of George who looks up to him as if he holds the sun: the Prince’s manservant! Which isn’t that bad. Until he starts, seemingly embarrassed but curious all the same, to ask questions like “Is the Prince as terrible as they say?” or “Is it true he throws knives?” and such? Arthur tries to explain that the training field is, well, to train? He isn’t sure the message gets across though, as George only holds his eyes with a perplexed gaze…

Arthur can’t help but hope that Merlin at least understands that he’s not only training himself but also trying to get Merlin to know how to defend himself if not to attack whenever he comes at him with a mace or anything… He should maybe make his intentions clearer, apparently…

Anyway. After yet another round of carrying buckets full of cold or warmed-up water up and down and left and right, Arthur realises there is more to it than it looks; and the bath is only half full still…

And when they’re nearly done? His three coworkers and the headmasteer seem satisfied, but Arthur can’t help but think while bringing up the last two buckets that they achieved nothing more than a luke warm bath with a clean but no particular scent. Merlin’s baths are definitely of a superior category on both accounts, and Arthur doesn’t know if he should feel guilty and spoiled for regularly enjoying better baths than the king himself, or more amazed or worried about Merlin’s bath-preparing skills (is he even thinking about his safety? he wouldn’t actually carry boiling water up the stairs, would he?)

Arthur decides he should address the issue. And maybe take baths downstairs from now on just in case - a little backroom near the kitchen would be more practical than his chambers, wouldn’t it? When the space isn’t needed for banquets preparations and such of course…

Arthur misses the first step towards the second floor (it’s actually the eleventh time today that he misses a step - he still isn’t used to Merlin’s feet). This time though, his balance is too lost for him to compensate and he falls backwards, landing on his butt and ready to get soaked and hit by the water and buckets he has released when instinctively freeing his hands (one to help catch his fall; one to protect himself from the falling projectiles). Except nothing comes: no water, no hit - and no falling sound either. And when Arthur takes a look? The buckets and water are… floating above his head?

Arthur gasps in surprise, his mind going both blank and reeling…

Then only does Arthur finally get drenched and hit on the shoulder.

Arthur blinks. Twice.

What has just happened isn’t normal, at all. Only - only magic could make such a thing possible!

Arthur looks around, instinctively - scanning for a threat.

He is alone; the corridors are empty as far as he can see, and he hears no voices, nor steps.

Which is good, because no one is attacking him then.

Which is the worst though - because if there is no one around… then the only person responsible for what he has just witnessed must be - is - HIMSELF?!

Arthur gasps again; this time in panick.

His first instinct is denial. But he knows what he saw. And somehow, it just makes sense, doesn’t it?

It’s not the body of the Prince that whoever switched him and Merlin is after. It’s his mind…

Put him in the body of a servant, give him magic, and sooner or later (and most probably sooner) he is bound to die by his Father’s law. What is he supposed to say in his defense? That he IS the Prince, in another body which had been given an ounce of magic on the sole purpose of getting him executed? Who would ever believe him…

In the meantime, the schieming sorcerer must have judged that a servant in his body may be too delighted by the upgrade in status to be a threat to his plans and would gladly unknowingly collaborate, on top of being totally untrained and incompetent at any of his duties.

Then? One only has to kill the King, either by making him ‘ill’ or using the same trick again and - for sure - Camelot is doomed to get wiped out from the map by the first band of Saxons passing by (and most probably enticed to pass by very soon after its King’s death): its only true heir gone, and the supposed one obviously improper to defend it. All of it without casualties on the attacking side, and without anyone knowing how it all came to be, which means no one, even loyal to Camelot, would have a reason to stand against the new regime put in place.

Arthur is more afraid than he has ever been - and he has been in combat enough for that fact to mean something. He feels crushed; defeated, even before the battle - and honestly? He has never despised himself that much. No matter that he has never felt both so unprepared and so intrinsically useless - and not even able to trust himself: surrender is simply inexcusable. Camelot depends on it.

Besides, Arthur owes it to Merlin to fight, right. It’s after all Merlin’s body that’s to die along his spirit. Oh! The villainy, the cowardice in this attack! Use an innocent victim as a vessel to be sacrificed. Sorcerers definitely have no sense of honor indeed.

So. Arthur is angry now. A much more suited mindset, he decides - as long as he doesn’t allow it to blind him. And he won’t. Merlin’s body depends on it too.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He has been taught strategy even before he could talk, right? Time to make a plan of action.

First. He is not as alone as Camelot’s enemy has calculated him to be. He is, in fact, not alone at all. He has Merlin.

Loyal Merlin; not only willing but even devoted to getting back into his own servant body rather than happily playing the prince. Magic familiar and open-minded Merlin - which means Arthur has not only someone who won’t judge him nor fear him to confide in about his new endangering (and in so many ways) abilities, but also someone who might have some basic understanding of it; since he was Will’s friend? Heart-in-the-right-place Merlin: too kind, maybe (but he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it); but naturally just and fair Merlin. Brave, fierce, tenacious Merlin; too reckless though (but again: he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it). Ressourceful Merlin, fast-learning Merlin: he would master his body’s strength, eventually; and Leon would be here to lead the Knights in the meantime… Arthur takes an oath. Even if they fail to find a solution to their problem, Camelot won’t be left unprotected. Come what may; even the worst? Merlin *will* be ready to take his place. Having Merlin’s unique edges smoothed out feels wrong; but it just has to be for show, right?

Second. Well, there is no really second yet; at least not more than what they have already planned. They need to find some books - and pray that they will be useful. And Arthur will just have to be particularly attentive about not repeating the kind of blunder he just did with witnesses present.

Yes. Merlin. Books. Start at the beginning; and with luck, it might just work out in the end.

Arthur cleans up as best as he can, using and wringing his soaked tunic in the buckets, then runs to Merlin’s room for a set of dried clothes. Turning up to retake his place at 'Arthur’’s side while drenched would only draw unwanted attention…

So. Basically? Yep. This is a magic-reveal unreveal fic. But. I mean… It’s Arthur? Also: this fic (to me) is canon (fitting) - so it just can’t be a reveal fic. Bonus: it explains too why Arthur doesn’t get the courage-magic-strength trio hint later on. He thinks Merlin is magic; but only because there is some residual trace to sense from when his body had magic (aka this fic), not that he actually has magic still at the time… Arthur can be at the same time very aware yet very unaware, and he can be so very biased and decided to see things his way, no matter how circumvoluted, right? (Also, of course Arthur thinks in fact then that HE is magic in the trio: he was after all the one inside Merlin when his body had magic; and Merlin IS courage - Arthur has such a low self-esteem to start with…)

On a side note: Arthur would actually trust Merlin with Camelot (even despite his limits). If that doesn’t tell you all there is to tell then I don’t know how to express it. *SIGH* *GROSS SOBBING* (Gwen though is innately made to be Queen - but Arthur doesn’t know that yet. He isn’t wrong about Merlin though - for Arthur’s memory? Merlin would do his best to be a great King too, you bet…) *GROSS SOBBING AGAIN*

VIII. MERLIN’S CHAINMAIL (ARTHUR POV)

“Merlin! My boy! You’re soaked! Did you provoke Arthur again and end up under the well for it this time?”

Great. Gaius sounds half amused half concerned. Does actually *everyone* think him to be a brute?

Well; nevermind. Merlin knows better; for sure - and that’s what matters. Merlin is never backing away, Merlin is never really complaining nor saying no; Merlin just watches him with mirth in his challenging eyes: I dare you. Of course Arthur HAS TO then… It’s like… kind of a private wordless conversation only the two of them understand. But honestly? Arthur wouldn’t trespass Merlin’s limits - if anything, Arthur would probably even feel guilty, if Merlin ever made one known…

But then, Gaius is patting his shoulder, pushing him towards 'his’ room; and Arthur is stunned silent, as he can’t help but relish on the (for him unusual) affectionate paternalistic small gesture.

“Get changed. Get warmed up. You’ll tell me later. I haven’t heard the bell signaling the end of the pleas, it is already so late? I’ve just finished Sir Kay’s potion, and it should be drinken warm, as you know; so I’d better be on my way. We’ll prepare Uther’s draught and the balm for Little Kathleen’s knee when I’m back. Also, I’m afraid I’ve ruined my coat; if you could work your magic on it next time you’re mending Arthur’s clothes, I’d be very much obliged?”

And then Gaius is gone, and Arthur is still stunned, but now for another reason - it was but a polite turn of phrase, of course, and Arthur knows Merlin just isn’t capable of miracles, as proven by the state of some of his shirts - beyond mending; but Gaius would better not use some idioms that carelessly around the palace - who knows who might hear and takes things the wrong way… Arthur shakes his head as he hurries to change, feeling sorry for letting Gaius down, but not planning to stay around until Gaius comes back - he wouldn’t know anyway how to prepare his Father’s nor Kathleen’s medicine, right…

Arthur opens Merlin’s cupboard.

There are only two folded set of clothes (neckerchief included indeed), and Arthur just takes the one on top.

He’s about to close the door when his eyes fall on Merlin’s chainmail.

The first time Arthur had told Merlin that he had been assigned to lead some patrol, Merlin had right away asked:

“When do we leave?”

Arthur had been surprised, then had tilted his head, apprehending Merlin while explaining that coming along was to be Merlin’s choice; and not per se his duty as palace manservant. They usually asked for volunteers; there was extra coin to be earned and such.

Merlin had only repeated:

“Sire; when do we leave?”

Arthur had been surprised again, but definitely pleased:

“Tomorrow at first light.”

“I’d better start packing right away then. What do you need?”

After having listed their necessities, Arthur had mentioned that he would have a chainmail sent to Gaius’s for Merlin to wear. Merlin had countered that he had no wish for carrying extra weight around as it would only slow him down in his chores; and that he would rather wear his everyday clothes. Arthur had said it was folly to go unprotected - they would patrol the borders, and thiefs and saxons could fall on them - and Merlin had finally relented some and agreed to wear a chainmail he would self adapt as he wished above some clothing but under his tunic. Arthur had been suspicious when Merlin had turned up the next morning without even a cap showing out, and had actually moved his neckerchief aside to make sure Merlin was wearing metal under his tunic…

Without hesitation, Arthur takes the chainmail out too, deciding he should wear it under his clothes. After all, the longer Arthur might succeed in hiding his new abilities, the more chances there are that the one responsible for their troubles might choose to turn to more expeditive measures of his own. Killing a servant might go unnoticed for awhile, and would work just as well in case whoever had planned this got tired of waiting for Arthur to betray himself and get executed. Which means that Merlin’s body is just walking around as a mark waiting to get hit… and Arthur should do his best to protect it. Merlin’s chainmail is barely worth its name; but it does cover his chest, belly and back, at least.

Arthur makes it back to the Great Hall right on time for the end of the pleas. It was the moment they had planned to stage for Arthur’s injury; but Arthur discretly but authoritatively signals 'no’ with his head. It would be too risky; what if while falling he instinctively uses magic again - in front of the whole court? Merlin gives him a curious look but follows his cue anyway, thanksfully. There is still enough time to create an excuse before training; and they can still tell he fell even without witnesses anyway. It would have been a nice added touch at make-believe, but Gaius vouching for them should be enough on its own, right?

As they walk in silence back to Gaius’s quarters, Arthur feels Merlin’s eyes upon him, boring and questioning. So when they pass by his chambers, Arthur takes the opportunity for privacy. Once behind closed doors, Arthur leads them to the most private corner, as far from the door as possible. Then he takes a deep breath, and turns towards Merlin to explain… everything.

He hasn’t got the time to start though before Merlin hushes out, worry evident in his voice, pointing to Arthur’s side where a hint of metal is visible if you pay attention - and Merlin always pays attention, doesn’t he:

“Sire? Why are you wearing my chainmail?”

AN: It’s canon after all that Arthur doesn’t force Merlin to come along - he lets him leave before Camlann, right? But yes, this is just me giving some sense to the 'just let’s Merlin accompany us everywhere without any kind of protection’ unacceptable general policy. So. Merlin *has* some protection. We just don’t see it. Okay? And the few times he’s actually in armor on patrol, it’s because they need a decoy or something… Also, just so you know: Merlin of course thought that Arthur would probably think that he didn’t want to be seen in a chainmail because he didn’t want to look like a soldier in order not to seem a danger nor a target, but Merlin just couldn’t care: he HAD to be an unconspicuous nobody - it made it easier to protect Arthur with his magic if no one really paid attention to him. And to end with a cute note: whenever they ride out ? Arthur always checks that Merlin wears his chainmail - a fact Merlin can’t help but always secretly revel in…

IX. REVELATIONS (MERLIN POV)

Arthur looks anxious - which only makes Merlin worry more.

“I found out… why I was put into your body. I’m sorry, Merlin. I wear your chainmail because your body is in great danger; and it’s all because of me… again. ”

“Wha-”

Arthur cuts him with an imperative gesture from his hand, voice hushed - even though it echoes in Merlin’s ears like a shout:

“I have- I mean you have… Magic!”

Merlin’s breath catches; panick rising. Arthur knows! Arthur knows?

Arthur seems to read his struck expression though as simple denial.

“Yes, Merlin; you heard right! Magic! I saw water and wood floating above my head - floating, Merlin! - That’s the only way to explain it! But I have no idea how it gets triggered, I have no idea how to control any of it - I fell and it happened, I guess, instinctively? Now you understand why I couldn’t have us stage a fall… If people find out? *When* people find out? My Father will have me - YOU - beheaded!”

Merlin’s eyebrow furrow. He doesn’t understand. If Arthur knows he has magic? How come Arthur looks *contrite* instead of angry; afraid *for him* instead of afraid of him? Not that Merlin is complaining about the fact that Arthur obviously doesn’t wish to see him beheaded, of course; his evident worry is even heartwarming, in a way… but heartbreaking, too, as Merlin can’t help but feel that Arthur’s reaction must be induced by some reason that he doesn’t comprehend yet but that has little to do about him having magic at all…

Arthur then fully explains his theory about their attacker using his body to get to Camelot by erasing Arthur, then Uther, and marching against a Camelot lead by an unprepared servant playing Prince. Merlin is shocked, and shaken. Because indeed Arthur’s reaction isn’t about him having magic at all, but about Arthur feeling responsible for his body’s impending doom. But what hurts the most yet is the heavy guilt that settles upon Merlin’s chest - crushing, constricting, inescapable - as he realizes that in fact everything is his fault! Arthur’s thinking may be flawed on one account; but the rest of it makes sense, indeed. And so Merlin cannot deny that Arthur has been targeted and put into his own body because whoever did this actually knows that he has magic.

And so Merlin feels panick rising again, and even worse than before. It is already complicated enough for Merlin to hide his powers - and he has had practice at it since his birth. How could Arthur ever successfully hide them for long… And to think that *HE* might be the cause of Arthur’s death? It’s worse than anything; worse than everything. And it’s devastating. Merlin can’t hold Arthur’s gaze anymore.

Arthur probably thinks he is overwhelmed by the surprise of his body being a target though.

“And I’m sorry - again, Merlin - but I can’t go and hide at some random remote place until I’ve worked out how to subdue it at least, if not suppress it. There is no time. I can’t leave Camelot; not when it’s so endangered.”

Merlin feels like screaming: Arthur shouldn’t apologize; Arthur shouldn’t feel guilty - It’s all on him!

“It’s all right, Arthur. I know you’re right: we have to stay here. After all, our best shot to end this mess is to find guidance in some books; and our best shot to find said books is staying here.” (Also, you bet Merlin isn’t willing to leave Camelot either because he is going to consult with Kilgarrah… Merlin had planned to go to the Great Dragon at the first occasion right when he had realized they had switched bodies; but he now can’t help but wish for the night to come even sooner.)

Arthur looks surprised by Merlin’s easy acceptance as he lets out: “I was going to point that out too?”

Arthur seems to hesitate an instant, taking a deep breath; but then, probably finally enticed by the fact that they still are on the same page apparently, he hushes out words that Merlin had never imagined he would ever hear, even in his wildest dreams.

“Now that’s settled… Do you have any idea that might help me keep it in check? I mean… Back in Ealdor? Did your friend Will maybe ever share something with you that we could use? Anything?”

Merlin’s mouth falls open; but nothing comes out of it. He realizes just how surreal it must have been for Arthur to utter those words. But Arthur looks decided, as always. He means it. And that’s when Merlin realizes Arthur is in fact ready to *learn*. Arthur still doesn’t trust magic, and definitely doesn’t trust his magic now that he has some; he only sees it as a treacherous condition. But he is willing to face it outright, instead of wishing or pretending it isn’t even there to start with. And Merlin realizes that this isn’t only proof of Arthur’s mighty heart; but that it also might actually be their saving too, with some luck?

And so Merlin just HAS to take a chance. Anyway, Arthur *needs* him; and how could Merlin ever let him down to start with… Besides, what if it made Arthur realize that magic isn’t only to be feared; that magic can be good, too, actually?

“Maybe you shouldn’t learn how to keep it check, but how to have it *work*?”

Arthur opens his mouth now, either in shock or to retort - or both; so Merlin hurries to push his point.

“Hear me out, please. Even when we do find an helpful book? The spell we’re under must be very powerful - I mean, have you ever heard or thought this could even be possible? - so we might still require magic too in order to perform whatever will be mentioned in the book? So yes, your new abilities are supposed to be our doom; but maybe we can turn them to our advantage? You have MAGIC, Arthur. If you can control it and use it - on your terms? Maybe that’s just what we need to solve our problem?”

Merlin waits. And Arthur isn’t taking the opportunity to repel his idea. Silence goes on; and still, Arthur isn’t refusing. If anything, he looks… thoughtful, even if doubtful. But there’s resolve, too; and maybe, even, a spark of hope? So Merlin just takes the final plunge.

“As you said… I might have… some basic notions about it? It’s worth a try, Arthur. What do you say?”

Merlin’s heart is pounding so hard it’s going to break his chest for sure, as they hold gazes for a long time - Merlin silently pleading for Arthur to just trust him. Then Arthur gives him a firm nod.

“I say this is probably folly but we have to try, indeed. So. You train me? And I train you.”

Merlin tilts his head, unsure about the second part.

“There are things I want to teach you, Merlin”, Arthur explains; pleads even. “In case we stay stuck in each others body no matter what we try; in case your body should- I know it’s a lot to ask, especially as I apparently keep making your life a hell just by existing? But will you please let me prepare you to take my place, if necessary?”

Merlin’s breath is knocked out of him. Arthur would trust *him* with *Camelot*? But Merlin cannot even contemplate it. Arthur cannot be gone; musn’t be gone; will not be gone. Merlin’s voice is fierce as it simply refutes the prospect.

“Sire, it won’t come to-”

Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder.

“It would mean a lot to me.”

And what can Merlin do then, but promise - and mean it:

“Anything, Arthur.”

The hand leaves his shoulder, but Arthur’s eyes stay fixed on him.

“Thank you, Merlin.”

And Merlin takes another oath - this one to himself. They’ll work it out. They’ll make it work. They will.

They both feel guilty for endangering the other more than they are worried about themselves *heavy sigh*

X. TRAINING (MERLIN POV)

Gaius is working on finishing Uther’s draught when ‘Arthur’ surprisingly comes in without knocking.

“Sire? Do you need-”

Merlin hasn’t prepared a speech on their way (how do you announce this anyway?) So he just blurts it out, as Arthur comes in after him and takes place at his side.

“We need your help, Gaius. Our bodies have been switched. (pointing to himself) Merlin. (pointing to his body) Arthur. We awoke like this this morning.”

Gaius looks stunned - of course. Then, for the shortest of times, he looks unconvinced; but this is after all Camelot, where strange things always happen, indeed - and not only Arthur would most probably have better things to do than playing along with Merlin’s pranks; but also Merlin wouldn’t have the heart to make *such* a prank to start with - not to him. So Gaius looks concerned now, gaze jumping with worry between Merlin and Arthur, holding Merlin’s eyes with a question in his eyes - and Merlin knows what’s worrying him.

Merlin can only give Gaius though a fragile smile to assure him that he is all right along with an apologetic look in return. He isn’t sure Arthur would want anyone else knowing about the magic too, so he will have to wait for a private occasion to explain everything to Gaius. For now, he just sticks to the plan.

“Arthur is expected to train soon, and we thought you could give us a way out of it. No one should be aware that Arthur isn’t Arthur until we’ve fixed this.”

Gaius doesn’t even hesitate.

“Of course (nodding to Merlin). I’ll go and tell you injured your sword arm (nodding to Arthur).”

Gaius goes out, mentioning coming back later to make Little Kathleen’s balm. Once the door closes, Arthur says he wonders what Merlin has in mind for 'training’. So Merlin decides he should help them both at once.

Merlin looks around for something basic, and his eyes light up when they fall on two bowls - not only basic but also potentially useful, if it works? He sets them on the table in front of Arthur: one stays empty, the other one get filled with water.

“Here. Try to make the water move into the other bowl.”

Arthur looks at the bowls, then at Merlin; incredulous.

“I’m not sure- I mean, even if I make this work, how am I supposed to put ourselves back into our bodies that way? How can I perform whatever must be performed if I am out of the performing body?”

“This is just a beginning, Sire. This is just a way to have you… feel your magic? Find it, and use it as you wish, when you wish. But if you need a valid reason, I promise this will be useful too, when you’ve mastered it.”

Arthur seems perplexed. Merlin confides, voice low as if sharing a secret: “We won’t have to disturb the fish anymore?”

Arthur is apparently too stressed out to even smile, sadly. But he gives Merlin a satisfied nod. “I’d better start trying then, huh.” A helpless sigh follows though. “Any hint about how to feel it to start with? Where to find it?”

Merlin hesitates. Not only because he wonders how much he can tell without Arthur realizing he knows too much, but also because he struggles about how to put into words what he has always simply felt. He has never had to search for it; it had always just been there. But maybe he can describe it by telling what he doesn’t feel, since he’s in Arthur’s body?

“Don’t search for 'where’. It’s not in one place; it’s everywhere. Not only in your body; literally everywhere - earth, air, water, fire. Like a… warm… tingling… flow? When you’ve found it, try to concentrate on it, focus on it, in order to direct it towards what you want - with your hands, your eyes, your voice; whatever works?”

Arthur’s brow has only deepened from the explanation, and Merlin can’t help but sigh:

“I’m sorry. It’s gibberish. I don’t know how to explain-”

“What you can’t know”, Arthur cuts him with a wave of his hand. “Of course. I have to find it on my own. Thank you for trying, at least?”

And so Arthur goes to sit at the table, facing the two bowls, while Merlin starts on the balm for Little Kathleen’s knee (hopefully for the last time, as her recovery seems to be going well, thanksfully) - both to feel useful and to give Arthur some kind of privacy. His moving around though must be disturbing, because Arthur switches place, turning his back to him. But it gives Merlin the freedom to check over his shoulders from time to time without risking to meet Arthur’s eyes.

This isn’t working though, Merlin can tell, by the time he’s done preparing Little Kathleen’s balm (he waits for Gaius to check if he got all doses and ingredients right though before finishing; he has only done it once) and a sleeping draught (for the guards guarding Kilgharra’s tunnel) (Gaius has had him prepare Morgana’s draught several times already, and has explained how to up the doses while keeping it safe): Arthur looks nothing but tensed, when he would need to be relaxed in order to feel… Trying too hard is nothing but counterproductive.

That’s when Merlin realizes he’s been going at it the wrong way. Arthur is not him. Arthur is *Arthur*. And when Arthur is at an impasse and needs a clear head? He trains. Activity helps him focus. Exhaustion helps him forget. To find his inner ground, Arthur must be physically busy; not sitting hunched over a table looking at two bowls.

Merlin eyes again his surroundings: spoons should work. Gaius has them in lots of size, both wood and metal. Merlin bundles them all in his tunic, and calls for Arthur as he passes in front of him.

“Let’s try something else. You can work on the water later on.”

Arthur’s eyes follow him questioningly up the stairs. Merlin sets his collection down, then holds a spoon up.

“Try to stop it from falling to the ground.”

Merlin let the spoon fall. It hits the ground, of course; but Arthur surely looks now interested by the new challenge. Merlin smiles, and lets another spoon fall.

After five rounds, Arthur gets up and gathers the spoons before handing them over to a crouching Merlin, instead of having Merlin going down, and up, and down, and up… A few rounds later still, Arthur picks up a spoon he has missed on his way and calls out for Merlin to catch it instead of walking back. Merlin misses it though, and it lands on his arm. And that’s when Merlin thinks his new idea can even be perfectioned.

He takes the offending spoon off the ground and holds it at the ready, eyeing Arthur, waiting for him to understand. And Arthur does, of course.

“Merlin? Are you threatening me with a spoon?”

Merlin grins wolfishly. He throws, and Arthur easily dodges, laughing.

“How long have you been waiting for such an opportunity?”

“Forever?” Merlin lies, before throwing another spoon, which Arthur blocks with an upraised arm.

Merlin can’t help but scowl: “You’re supposed to make the spoon divert its course; not block it or move out of its way.”

Arthur has actually the decency to look apologetic: “I know. Sorry. Reflexes.” Then he smirks. “But please, indulge yourself and do go on.”

And Merlin does. And it’s glorious somehow, how they are suddenly both intent and carefree, spoons clattering everywhere on both sides as Arthur now throws the spoons back to Merlin too. Hits land on both sides too, as they both throw quicker and harder.

At some point, the door opens and a spoon hits… Gaius.

“Sorry”, Merlin lets out, hurrying down to check he hasn’t hurt Gaius.

Gaius looks at the both of them with incomprehension, but Arthur explains even before Merlin has even opened his mouth.

“We’re actually working on something, Gaius; not destroying your chambers. (the slightest hesitation - but if Gaius is to be their ally then Arthur has decided he should know, well, everything, it seems) I have been jinxed too, on top of the body swap. It appears I have been given… magic; to be my doom - and well… Merlin’s body end.”

Gaius looks sort of disapprovingly to Merlin at the M word, but his gaze softens somehow, even though it turns outright anxious, as Arthur further explains his theory about their attacker’s plan.

“So, now you know it all, Gaius. And we also need your help for something more than giving me an excuse not to train… We need… information. I thought… You and Geoffrey go way back, right? Maybe you could persuade him to lend you a few special books?”

Gaius nods, eyeing Merlin.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Arthur nods back.

“In the meanwhile, I have to understand how it works, in order to prevent anyone finding it out until we’ve found a way to lift the spells?”

“Of course. Just let me take what’s necessary and I’ll leave you to it.”

Merlin then shows Gaius his previous work (safely tucked away in his room after the first round of spoons throwing - and yes, it also gives Merlin the opportunity to silently let Gaius know where his book is hidden, so that he will be able to retrieve it later on and present it to them as coming from Geoffrey or something). Gaius proudly tells he got everything right and gathers it all into a bowl.

“I can finish the balm in the kitchens. I’ll be back to bandage your arm though later on, Merlin; our Prince is supposed to be injured, and our King will want to check on his son right when he comes back from today’s hunt and hears about it.”

They start again where they had left, but nothing magical ever happens still, and after some time, Arthur exclaims in annoyance: “Maybe you should use knifes?”

And Merlin understands the logic; but Merlin just… can’t. He counters with an idea of his own.

“Maybe I should tie you up on a chair so that you can’t dodge them anymore?”

And Arthur gives a shrug… then goes to sit.

Merlin finds some rope and tie Arthur’s legs and chest to the chair. He hesitates, then tie only Arthur’s left hand behind the chair.

“In case it helps if you aim”, he explains.

Then Merlin is facing Arthur again. The spoons hit; one at a time. But Arthur glares at them - never at Merlin; and so Merlin goes on.

And then… (they’ve been going at it for so long that Merlin has stopped counting rounds) a spoon finally *stops*, mid-air, before simply falling vertically to the ground instead of keeping its course.

Merlin’s mouth falls open as Arthur keeps looking at his hand in wonder.

“Did you see-”

“Yes!” Merlin can’t help but shout happily.

Arthur meets his eyes, looking even more resolute than before.

“Again.”

Arthur doesn’t stop lots of spoons (yet, hopefully); but he regularly stops or redirects one.

And then, Arthur looks at his hand, and then at him, both in wonder.

“It *is* warm!”

And that’s definitely progress in the right direction, if Arthur has *felt* it.

The look they share is actually hopeful, for the first time since this began.

After some time, Merlin decides they should take a pause. Arthur still has to prepare him for tomorrow concil too, right?

So Merlin starts asking about what he should know for the coming concil right while untying Arthur’s legs.

“Will was definitely lucky to count you as a friend.”

Merlin’s eyes jump to Arthur’s in surprise; not only from the compliment, but also from the repeat mention of Will. Before today, Arthur had never mentioned Will, since they had left Ealdor.

Arthur doesn’t notice. Or - more probably - Arthur notices but goes on anyway; he is nothing but brave after all.

“I never had a friend, but I believe friends are supposed to help each other out, right? And well, you’re good at helping out, is all. And I know I have little to no right to talk about him; but I think you should know that I’m grateful, and that he has my respect, Merlin.”

Merlin is utterly speechless. Arthur has finally found, it seems, a way to shut him up. And to get him teary-eyed to boot. Merlin lowers his eyes to the ground.

“I believe he was a kind man. I mean- He must have been, of course - I don’t see you befriending someone cruel or-… But even taking only my own judgment into account? I suppose he could have probably done more harm than a whirlwind. But he didn’t. He wanted to defend, more than to attack; there is nothing malicious in that. It’s unfair his kindness caused his end though. Sometimes, maybe, it’s necessary to be the first to strike; even if you can never know how actually well-founded that decision then is; and you have to live with it.”

Merlin feels guilty, again. And angry. Does Arthur have to remind him that Will’s death is his fault? For all his magic? Merlin is indeed nothing but *useless*, indeed. He works on finishing to untie Arthur as quickly as he can.

Arthur must have read the inwards directed angry shake of his head for something else though, as he lets out a somewhat apologizing sigh.

“I realize I’m very biased, Merlin; because if he had used his powers in a harmful way? I would probably have been the first to accuse him of being a monster. (pause) But he hasn’t. And I haven’t searched for any magical powers - yet here I am.”

Another sigh; nothing but helpless this time. So Merlin *has* to look up. He has failed Will. He won’t fail again. He won’t fail Arthur. Arthur’s gaze is lost inward though.

“Sire”, Merlin pleads, hunting Arthur’s eyes then locking onto them.

Arthur fidgets; Merlin can’t help but note the oddity and rarity.

“I just- I realize this is the strangest thought to have while we are yet again under a sorcerer’s threat, but… Maybe not everything is always as black or white as I’ve been told all my life? Maybe not everyone with magic is actually evil? … Will? Me? … Again, maybe I’m only very biased. Because who knows then how many might have been wrongly punished- (a heavy sigh; wondering and remorseful this time, as Arthur shakes his head, apparently thinking about his Father’s deeds as his own - as he has allowed them to come to pass without opposition for so long…) But I *have* to believe that it’s possible to have magic without being corrupted by it. I mean… What if it sticks? Even after…”

“Arthur”, Merlin starts again as Arthur’s voice falters - even though Merlin still has no exact idea about what he wants to say; at least not in what order. Arthur’s genuine regrets and palpable fear are boring a hole right through his heart; just as Arthur’s words about Will and about magic (it is a step in the right direction; no matter how small) spread warmth through it too. Merlin’s possible soothing or grateful words in return all feel just tangled and messy and worthless and not enough and-

Arthur clears his throat, then softly exhales as he finally looks away: “I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, Merlin. Except… I’m glad you’re here?”

Maybe Merlin has conveyed what he couldn’t put into words through his eyes after all…

And then Arthur stands up, and his voice is back to his usual, assured tone.

“Now. One problem at a time, right? About the concil tomorrow…”

And Merlin listens, you bet.

So yep, yet another 'I’m glad you’re here’ (MY HEART). And spoons just had to be involved, indeed (I’m weak, blame 5.03)

XI. DESTINIES ARE TROUBLESOME THINGS (MERLIN POV)

Merlin can’t help but be on his guard. He has no idea, he realizes as he enters Kilgarrah’s cave after having successfully put to sleep the guards in front of it (after a shortened dinner with Uther and Morgana), about how the Great Dragon will react to a stranger’s presence in his lair.

But Merlin needs some guidance; and so, he calls out to him…

“Young warlock, what has happened to you?”

“You know it’s me?”

“Of course. Even though I am surprised indeed by your current appearance.”

“Arthur and I- Our bodies have been switched.”

The Great Dragon straightens up.

“So this is Uther’s heir’s body?”

“Yes. And I need - we need - help. Do you have any idea about how to reverse such a spell?”

“I do not have such knowledge. I can only tell you what you already know; that there is some very powerful magic at work here. (pause, tilting his head) But maybe you are not supposed to reverse it to start with.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are now *literally* two sides of a coin - both at once in the same body. Maybe this was the intent of the prophecy all along.”

(helpless, shocked sigh) “No.”

Merlin cannot believe his ears. But the idea is not only incongruous; it’s also outright enraging, and simply *impossible*.

“No”, Merlin repeats, firmly this time; a denial.

“You would throw away the opportunity to fulfill your destiny? You would carelessly discard the chance to bring forth the greatest time for Albion?”

Merlin doesn’t even flinch under the Dragon’s ire. *Arthur* is his destiny; and only Arthur. Albion’s welfare is in Arthur’s hands. And Arthur *will* be its greatest King; not Merlin. The notion only makes him sick. It’s not even about a possible guilt at cheating Arthur’s crown (which he doesn’t want to start with). It’s simply that Merlin wants - needs, and will not (and never) accept anything less - Arthur to be Arthur, intrinsically. Besides, Merlin knows the burden of pretending already; and he wouldn’t wish for anyone, and certainly not for Arthur, to have to shoulder it too. How can Kilgarrah not realise any of it?

“This just cannot be the way. It only feels wrong.”

“You should at least think about it, Merlin.”

“It is all decided. I cannot and will not abide to the belief that this masquerade could ever be our true fate. And if you don’t - can’t or won’t - help, we’ll look for a solution on our own - no matter how long it might take.”

They hold each other’s gaze; and Merlin won’t relent.

“I can only hope you will not come to regret your choice, young warlock”, Kilgarrah finally says as he flies away.

Merlin is still fuming as he enters Arthur’s chambers.

His fingers itch, longing to search through his spells book. He hasn’t had yet the opportunity - between being a Prince taking most of his day, and Arthur being at his side when he had been off duty. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until tomorrow - it would look suspicious if he went out in the night.

So. He should rest. After all, a clear mind will be necessary in the morning, both for council and for finding a way to break the spell they’re under, right?

Only looking at the bed though makes Merlin’s entrails twitch in disgust. This is wrong indeed; and will never feel otherwise. And no matter how comfortable that bed is, Merlin now knows (he might grow understanding of Arthur’s lack of will to leave it on some mornings from now on, huh), you bet he will never even contemplate sleeping in it.

Merlin makes his bed for the night on the floor, wondering if Arthur has been able to fall asleep yet.

Bear with me. The Dragonlord bond is an intrinsic link between souls, which is why it isn’t affected by the body swap. Whereas magic inhabits everything it’s in, and is therefore by nature anchored in physicallity. It explains too somehow why magic in general can be learned/found, but that the Dragonlord bond can only be inherited. Oh well, it makes sense in my head, at least…

Also :( I’ve really hurt myself with Kilgarrah’s last line :( Because of course Merlin *will* wonder about this, *for centuries*, later on (my heart:(). Anyone willing to hold me while I cry, pretty please?

XII. SOMETIMES, YOU PUZZLE ME (ARTHUR POV)

“Sire, you should rest.”

“Just a little bit longer, Gaius. Until the candles are out.”

“As you wish.”

A respectful bow; then Gaius is on his way to Merlin’s room, giving Arthur space and quiet - and only when the door closes does Arthur realize that he just kicked an old man out of his own bed?

Well, let it be worth it then, right! Arthur closes his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to connect with the magic inside. He actually feels it, now that he knows what to search for. He has no idea still though about how to have it work, apparently…

He can’t help but wonder briefly if Merlin has been able to fall asleep yet, before concentrating again on that damn water…

Arthur awakes, wincing, still at the table. Gaius has left bread and jam out for him, and he hastily eats before running out to help Merlin prepare (both physically and mentally) for concil. It is still earlier than he thought it was it seems, luckily. The kitcheners have just begun their work; Gaius does prefer to pick herbs in the early morning indeed. Arthur takes some bread and jam for Merlin, as little else is ready yet, and makes for his chambers.

When he gets in, Merlin is putting his clothes on. He is nearly finished; only the tunic and the coat are still laid out on the already made bed. Arthur approaches to help him with fastening the ties, and so notices the spread-out covers and pillows on the floor behind the bed.

“Merlin? Did you actually sleep on the floor?”

“Well, that bed of yours is way too soft”, Merlin retorts (even though Arthur DID see him getting out of said bed just the morning before: it hadn’t been too soft apparently, when Merlin hadn’t known it was Arthur’s, huh…), trying to cover his embarassment before walking out, heading for the stream. And Arthur has no choice but to follow, shaking his head while wondering if there would ever come a day when Merlin would stop astonish him…

After having left Merlin at the concil’s door, Arthur gets back to his bowls and water.

He has no progress to show though still when Merlin comes in and gives him a very detailed summary of what has been discussed. Arthur is thankful - even though he hasn’t doubted Merlin’s capacities (Merlin acting like an idiot or being clueless about etiquette doesn’t mean Merlin isn’t clever, indeed).

Then Merlin takes up the spoons, and helps Arthur train more actively about his magic again. They are both pleased to discover that Arthur is now able to divert about a third of the projectiles.

“Why am I getting better with the spoons and not making any progress with the water?”, Arthur wonders aloud.

“I am certain you will figure it out, Sire”, Merlin only has time to pledge as Gaius walks in, holding out a book and placing it on the table - which definitely ends the spoons training as Arthur and Merlin come to gather around it.

Gaius and Merlin seem to be waiting for his cue, so Arthur is the one to open the book, feeling both hopeful (this book might contains the answer to their predicament!) and worried (what if this book is simply full of evil?).

Arthur starts to read silently, both cautious about eventual passers-by overhearing and unwilling to invoke any probable further disaster on themselves by reading what could be spells aloud, a finger tracing along the opening line.

“Magic is potential, and possibilities. Its use is a choice, and a responsability”, Merlin whispers, echoing what Arthur is reading.

Arthur is stunned, and can’t help but blurt out in disbelief, turning his attention on Merlin:

“You know how to read?”

Merlin only shrugs.

“Sure I do. My mother taught me, along with the other kids from Ealdor. You know, the fact that it surprises you that a peasant can read probably says more about Camelot’s rampant illiteracy than about me?”

And Arthur can only admit it’s true:

“You’re right. We should probably ask Geoffrey to organize something about it.”

Then Arthur points at the book:

“But of course you may read along; it concerns you too. It might be safer though not to read aloud, you know…” (gesturing around, waving a hand)

“I can do that too”, Merlin assures.

So Arthur sits down on the bench, motioning for Merlin to do the same next to him. Gaius sits on the opposite bench - ready to give advice or help if needed; or ensuring they do not damage the book before it gets returned to the vaults?

They read further in silence, two pairs of eyes following the path of Arthur’s finger.

Arthur quickly realizes though that the first part of the book focuses on magical creatures, and skips through it - it might be handy, but it’s not what they need at the moment (he can’t refrain from briefly pausing though passing by the unicorns page)…

Then they reach the spells section, and Arthur turns tense.

And rightly.

When he understands what the first spell is about, he can’t help but shout out, pushing the book away:

“This is what Valiant did! How can we trust this book of tricks?” - this is nothing but evil indeed.

Of course Merlin just HAD to read that opening line aloud while in Arthur’s presence, huh…

#merlin #merthur #bbc merlin #merthur fic #bbcmerlin #merlin fic #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #the body swap #the once and future fic #my own two spells #fanfic #fic #text

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avaliantprince · 5 years

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@druidtraitor ( One year after the previous events )

Over the course of a year, Arthur had dedicated a lot of his time to trying to make changes to Camelot. Magic was slowly but surely being introduced again, and though there had been some moments of panic where Arthur wanted nothing to do with it and wanted to shut the whole operation down, he had pushed through to the best of his abilities. Magic folk were coming forth to request hearings with him, seeking for payment in return for the evils done to them or their family in the past. Then, of course, there were some people of magic who were too angry for payment and wanted nothing more than to see Arthur dead. Those were the ones he had to watch out for, and those were the ones that he would give a death sentence to for making attempts on his life.

During one of his many journeys outside of the city, he’d come across a group of druids who were under attack. They were scrambling to get their belongings, reminding Arthur of when he had watched them flee at his presence a year ago. He’d taken it upon himself to help them, thus saving their lives and preventing them from having to move again. They’d been scared of him at first, knowing that they were in the presence of Arthur, son of Uther, but he had assured them that they had no reason to fear him and that he only wanted peace. It was one of the more memorable acts of kindness he’d done for those with magic. Was it enough to gain their trust? Perhaps not fully.

It was an uphill battle every step of the way, but Gwen was there to support him and assure him that every gesture counted. Even if it was a slow process, people were noticing the changes. Given time, Camelot would become the kingdom Arthur envisioned it to be. One day, he and the people of Camelot, including those of magic, would be able to live in peace and harmony. Uther would be rolling in his grave right now if he were to know of the changes Arthur was making. He would be seen as a disappointment, but Arthur knew now that Uther was indeed a broken man and had allowed fear to control him. Still, there was something for Arthur to fear: Mordred. His words still lingered in his mind, and Arthur actively sent knights and soldiers out to scout the area and ensure that no suspicious activity was taking place. If it was a war Mordred wanted, then it was a war he would have. It just left the question of when?

While riding back from his travels, Arthur had found himself ambushed by another group of swordsmen who opposed his reign. There was little time for talk and introductions, the king and his knights drawing their swords and quickly finding themselves engaged in battle. Arthur was a proud swordsman and was known to be the best Camelot had, but even he hadn’t been prepared for the challenge that had approached him. They were strong. A force to be reckoned with. His knights fought valiantly, yet one by one they were picked off by numbers greater than his own. They were outnumbered and evidently outmatched. Soon it was just Arthur left, and the king found himself knocked onto his back after a lengthy and ruthless sword fight. The opponents sword was now left lingering above his chest, threatening to pierce his heart at any given moment. He knew this position all too well from training and duels. This was defeat. And this time, Merlin wasn’t around to save him.

#druidtraitor #;V𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑒: 𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒪𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝐹𝓊𝓉𝓊𝓇𝑒 𝒦𝒾𝓃𝑔 ♔ ( 𝓂𝒶𝒾𝓃 || )

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le-reveuse · 2 years

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The Great Purge; or the invasions that lead the way.

"Uther, wake up!" Aurelianus shook the child. The distant sounds of bells clanging assisted in the urgency of the command. The boy no more than ten summers, groaned and rolled over, pulling his covers over his head. With his desperate pleas not working Aurelianus yanked the blanket away from his brother. "Quick come on we've got to go!" he hissed.

"Why?" Uther yawned, "Why must we leave?"

"Don't you hear the clanging?" The boy shook his head. "Constans is dead. They found his body not a quarter candle mark ago. We've got to go." He frowned pulling his brother out of his cocoon of warmth, "Come on, hurry up!"

"But why must we go? Our duty is to the people, to lead and protect them. We can’t do that is we leave." The petulant frown and parroting of the lesson their parents had drilled into them before their demise, was almost enough to bring a smile to Aurelianus’ face.

"We can't do that if we're dead! Vortigern killed Constans, what do you think he'll do to us when he finds us still here" Aurelianus grabbed Uther's arm and urgently pulled him along. Straining he made it to the door where Gaius and a knight were waiting. "Come on we've got to go."

Uther, now in shock over Vortigern’s – the closest advisor of his brother – betrayal, stared vacantly. Paralysed, his body unable to obey his brothers command to move, instead being consumed by the incapacitating feeling of detachment. Mumbling inaudibly, he works through the events of the evening "Vortigern killed Constans. Constans is dead, Vortigern killed him. Vortigern betrayed us. Why did he betray us?"

Trailing the knight protecting them he is pushed along by the young physician. They creep through the castle like thieves in the night, avoiding soldiers and servants alike. The knight’s sword perpetually drawn, ready to strike any who would prevent their escape. Aurelianus however holds his sword in a pale imitation of the knight. Taking the part of a child dressed in their father’s armour, yet no less ready to protect his remaining family from the treacherous advisor.

Eventually they reach the chamber preceding the dungeons entrance. The knight enters first checking the room for the presence of another living soul. Gesturing them in he barricades the door. He gestures toward Aurelianus to approach the far wall.

Aurelianus prods the wall, in several places until he finds the loose stone acting as the catalyst for the doors opening.

"Clank, Clank, Clank" the consistent footsteps of the invading force become louder betraying their distance to the small group.

The knight manhandled each individual into the passageway then turned, widened his stance and grasped his sword with both hands. Impervious to Aurelianus’ tugging he stood steady. “Go!”

Faltering Aurelianus looks to the elder knight confused. "You're coming with us" he declaimed passionately as though if he believed it enough it would happen. Before faltering upon the observing the set of the knight’s face and the steadiness of his stance, "Aren't you?"

"No, I will stay here to give you time to run. And you must run. Take Gaius and Uther and run like your lives depend on it to the docks down by Gedref. There are horses down by the egress take them and leave." He breaks from his formation to shove the anxious young prince across the threshold. "Go, now!"

"Goodbye, Sir Brunor" the boy states pausing on the threshold for a final farewell before the door slams in place. He hastens after Gaius and Uther through the dark gloomy passage, the thin passage gave a grave sense of claustrophobia.

Cobwebs hung off the ceiling above them though it was clear that no spiders had been in residence in the tunnel for several years. The footfalls of rats created an echo almost loud enough to drown out the battering of the barricaded door, and the eventual clashing of swords as the door finally gave. Aurelianus attempted to focus on the path ahead instead of the silence of blades, ignoring the possibility that another close to him was potentially dead.

The long, dark corridor was relatively easy to navigate in the limited light, especially as the light increased indicating the end of the tunnel was close. Hearing the soft whispers of a brother in shock and the quiet murmuring of assurances from the physician, Aurelianus caught up. Not a hundred steps later they reached the end of the passage, and the only thing keeping them from freedom was the grated door to which three horses were tied to.

His heart fell as he realised that the knight had had no intention of joining them on their bid to freedom. The grate was pushed open, the horses untied as the trio made their way out into the fresh autumn air.

They travelled far and wide, through the darkling woods towards the forests of Brechfa. Across the plains eventually crossing the border into Gedref. This journey took them several days wherein they only stopped when necessary for brief periods of time. They continued onwards after reaching Gedref at a slower pace due to the horses being worn out. They eventually reached the port sold the horses in exchange for passage across the great seas of Meredoc.

#merlin #arthurian legend #the great sorcerer vortigerns takeover #king uther having a history of shock #and inaction when betrayal has occured #gaius

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merlinficreview · 7 years

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The Student Prince: Chapter 1-5 Review!

Sorry it’s been 84 years since Romeo or I have posted anything. Romeo is back to school for the semester so her time is limited and work has been really draining on me recently. Never fear, we are still here though and I’ve got a review!

The Student Prince by FayJay

Word Count: 145222

Ok guys, this is it. The infamous Student Prince fic. I have read this one before and I liked it because it seems to be the closest fic I’ve found to a modernized version of the BBC show. Plus, as I’ve already said before, I am a sucker for Modern Royalty AUs. This fic also takes place at the University of St. Andrews, which I know nothing about. So google will be my trusty friend throughout this review.

Here we go!

Chapter 1

We begin with Merlin getting hit in the face with some luggage and falling onto some poor elderly lady. Merlin has to maintain an extra sense of control when objects are flying towards his face because he has magic and doesn’t want to out himself. Yay Modern Day Magic Fic!

So it turns out the luggage situation was someone else’s fault. “She glanced from Merlin to the lady and then back again, her face the picture of mortification, and Merlin – who had been feeling a little disgruntled about the whole unexpected-rain-of-luggage scenario – took one look at her huge brown eyes and immediately wanted to reassure her that he had thoroughly enjoyed being knocked half unconscious.” Haha, aww.

The luggage canon introduces herself as Gwen. Yay, Gwen! She is studying engineering at St. Andrews. I think it’s weird that Gwen already has all her textbooks. Have they already signed up for their classes? How would she know what to buy?

Gwen tells Merlin she also has a hammer in her bag. "’Of course there is,’ nodded Merlin, gravely. ‘Who travels without a hammer in their luggage these days? One never knows when a spot of joinery might be in order.’ The corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Stop!’ he said, raising one hand in front of him. Gwen blinked, and after a beat Merlin added: ‘Hammer Time! Dooo doodoodoo! Doodoo! Doo! Hammer Time!’ as he improvised a quick, and truly terrible, attempt at the Hammer Dance in the cramped confines of the aisle.’”

Oh my God. How embarrassing. Stop it, Merlin. Then Gwen tells Merlin that she makes her own jewelry and Merlin is super impressed. Merlin even does the dance a second time and I want to crawl in a hole and die from secondhand embarrassment. Merlin, you JUST met Gwen. Calm yourself.

“’Hey, it's not really Merlin, is it?’ Gwen asked, looking at him sidelong. ‘I mean – really really? You're pulling my leg, right? I mean – nobody's called Merlin. Why would any woman name her baby after an old man with a long white beard and a pointy hat? It's like calling your baby Gandalf.’” This is the second time Gwen has awkwardly expressed disbelief about Merlin’s name. Stop being weirdly obsessed with his name, Gwen. How fucking rude. Poor Merlin. Getting assaulted by luggage and then getting his name made fun of. Good start to college, Merlin. Good start.

Then Gwen points out that Prince Arthur is also going to be attending St. Andrews and she says Merlin and Arthur will become besties. Merlin points out that her name is Guinevere and that she’ll be future queen.

"’That isn't why I applied there,’ she insisted. ‘I mean, I know that there must be thousands of girls who filled in their UCAS forms with St Andrews just because they're living some kind of stupid “Princess Diaries” fantasy and they think they're going to meet him and he'll fall for them and they'll end up with a tiara and a load of corgis, but I'm serious about my career. St Andrews has an excellent engineering department. I was going to apply there long before I heard that's where Arthur was going.’”

But that’s not the plot of The Princess Diaries at all?

I also have the St. Andrews website pulled up because like I said, I know nothing about it, or going to school in the UK, to be honest, and it doesn’t even look like St. Andrews has an engineering department. Man, Gwen is going to be pissed when she finds out she spent all her money on textbooks for a degree her school doesn’t offer.

Then Gwen tells us how King Uther met his wife while they were at Oxford once upon a time. "It's such a beautiful story, isn't it? The way they met at Oxford when she borrowed his jar of Gold Blend, not even realising he was the Prince of Wales at first because he was in the middle of shaving and she was distracted by her friend's dog...oh, they were so in love!" Gold Blend is coffee, by the way. I had to google it too. In what situation would a man be shaving his face next to a container of instant coffee while a random dog is nearby? That’s such an odd scene to imagine. Maybe she knocked in his door to borrow the coffee and she had the dog with her? Were there co-ed dormitories back then?

Merlin is just as suspicious about this story as I am and pops Gwen’s bubble, telling her it was most likely PR. I agree.

"Merlin shook his head mutely, and carefully didn't mention any of the books or magazines he might possibly have read about Prince Arthur and his family. Especially not the outrageously hot photoshoot in GQ magazine that he'd been hiding under his bed for the past three months, and frantically jerking off to most nights. Nope, definitely not mentioning that. Gwen rolled her eyes. ‘Uther and Igraine – it's like a modern day Romeo and Juliet!’" First of all, 100% do not mention that to Gwen. Good decision. Second of all, Gwen has a really hard time grasping plots, doesn’t she? No wonder she decided to major in a non-existent department at her university. She’s not a very bright girl.

We then learn that Merlin is planning to major in physics. That is a department at St. Andrews, good job, Merlin! Then Gwen compares their journey to Hogwarts. “He found himself wishing he could explain about Professor Gaius and Doctor Nimueh, and about the kind of text books he had stuffed into the bottom of his rucksack – but that wasn't going to happen. Magic was secret, and secret it should stay. Nobody wanted to go back to the days of witchburnings.” Poor Merlin. It’s always so sad that he has to hide himself. I will also give him a pass for already having magic books because that’s different.

Gwen and Merlin talk a little more about Harry Potter and then go right back to talking about Arthur and how they’ll probably never meet him. Well…

Then Merlin gets real depressing real fast. "Whatever. All those posh interbred types with more rooms than they know what to do with and flocks of sheep wandering around on their enormous ancient estates - that's who he'll be hanging out with. Not with a physics student from a grotty little council estate in Cardiff, or an engineering student – however lovely – who lives above her dad's garage in Wembley. Face it – we don't have our own flocks of sheep." Brutal Honesty Hour! It’s my favorite time of day!

Merlin then shares some chocolate with Gwen and they enjoy the rest of their train ride.

Chapter 2

“The door was open a crack when Merlin reached his room in St Salvator's Hall, and he could hear voices inside, and what sounded rather a lot like The Rolling Stones.” I looked up St. Salvator’s Hall and holy crap those rooms are nice. According to the photos, the rooms are like twice as big as the dorm rooms of the university I went to. I also decided to compare prices, for funsies, and also to sit and cry about how much more ridiculously expensive it is to go to university here than in other countries. The fee for a shared room at St. Salvator’s Hall is £5,837 which includes a meal plan. That’s 6292.55 USD for comparison. At the University that I went to, a shared room with communal bath is 6,795 USD. This does not include a meal plan which could add up to around 800 USD if you pick the one with the most meals. Those rates are also per semester and not for the entire academic year. Now, St. Salvator’s rate does not state whether the fee is per semester or for the whole year but either way, it’s still way more expensive here in the US. It also looks like St. Salvator Hall doesn’t have communal bathrooms like the one located here that I looked up. Yay not affordable education here in the US!

Anyways, Merlin enters the room and his roommate is none other than the Prince of Wales himself, Arthur. Oh my god. I NEVER saw that one coming!

“’Only – I thought – well, I pretty much assumed that you'd be staying over at New Hall. Where they have single rooms. And ensuites with all the mod cons,’ blurted Merlin. ‘Not sharing a room in Sally's. Why are you sharing a room in Sally's?’ Arthur frowned. ‘Because I lost a bet, if you must know. With my father.’ He stared at Merlin, looking puzzled and a touch irritated. ‘You weren't expecting this, then? They didn't get you to sign things – Official Secrets Act, all that?’” I think that’s a fair question Merlin is asking and I also want to know what sort of bet Arthur lost. How fucking awkward that no one alerted Merlin to who his roommate was supposed to be. Don’t they give out roommate names before the semester starts?

So then Arthur gets bitchy that Merlin hasn’t signed a non-disclosure agreement. “Well – sorry if this sounds, you know, rude, but basically if you touch any of my stuff, or take photos of me or my friends, or tape conversations, or sell your story to the press, or – basically, if you act like a dick, right? Well, we're talking Tower of London, pretty much. That's the Cliff Notes version.”

Calm the fuck down, Arthur. Throwing Merlin in the tower for borrowing your history book is way too excessive. So then Merlin asks if he can make a citizen’s arrest if Arthur does any the aforementioned things to Merlin. Good job, Merlin. Arthur is a complete asshole about that, acting like Merlin’s stuff is grosser than the stuff on the bottom on Arthur’s shoes and tells Merlin he will replace anything he ruins with something of “equal value.” "’Like a stick of gum,’ murmured Kay, sniggering.” Yeah, be prepared to really really fucking hate Kay in this. "’I can see why you have to swear people to secrecy, if this is how you act when you're not around a reporter,’ blurted out Merlin, feeling cheated. ‘You really are a massive prat, aren't you? A smug, self-entitled, patronising git.’” Yassssss. You tell him, Merlin.

Arthur and his friends leave and then Merlin goes to find Gaius. We learn a little about the School of Sorcery. This School can be found in every single building on campus, one just has to find the special door with a dragon on it. Merlin finds the door located in his residence hall. Of course the dragon on the door talks to Merlin, "’Young Merlin!’ it said, in a voice like a rusty gate, blinking sulphurous eyes impossibly as it writhed through the wood like an eel in water. ‘Back so soon?’ ‘What?’ Merlin stared at it. ‘I haven't – this is my first time here, Master Dragon.’” So we get a little hint of reincarnation.

Merlin finds Gaius who tries to shoo him away until Merlin gives him his name. Gaius changes his tune after that and tells Merlin he knew his father. The first thing Merlin does is complain about sharing a room with Prince Arthur. He says it will make it too hard to hide his magic. “Gaius blinked at him owlishly. ‘Then I suggest that you learn some discretion, young man, and quickly,’ he said.’” That is such an annoying adult thing to say. What a non-answer. Poor Merlin. Gaius tells Merlin he is supposed to be rooming with Arthur so he can protect him and that wizards have always protected kings and queens. Merlin is unhappy with this news.

Chapter 3

This chapter opens with:

“Hey, Gwen – how's McIntosh Hall?

Brilliant! How's Sallies?

View good, mattress soft, roommate total plonker. Yours?

She seems OK. Sorry you got plonker. Want to meet later & go to Union together?

God, yes please!” It’s written just like that (italics represent direct quotes and bold represents italics within the fic. You know the drill). I assume they are texting.

Anyways: “It was the tail-end of summer, but apparently that meant something rather different on the East coast of Scotland than it did in Wales, and by the time Merlin got to Gwen's Hall of Residence he was wishing he'd brought a coat, rather than just pulling on a black v-neck jumper.” Does Merlin not know how to read a map, or?

Like… I know the UK is small compared to the US but he can’t really be that surprised that the Northern part of the UK is colder than the Southern part. There’s almost 500 miles in between Cardiff and St. Andrews. I’m glad Merlin isn’t majoring in geography.

So Merlin meets up with Gwen outside her residence hall where she has acquired a gentleman caller. It’s probably Lance. Merlin and Gwen hug. “’Hey, you,’ he said into her hair, feeling something in his chest tighten unexpectedly. ‘I missed you.’”

Calm down, Merlin. You’ve known her for thirty seconds and only been away for her for three of those.

Lance is not happy with Merlin’s presence. “’Hi, Lance,’ he said, ducking his head in Lance's general direction. Lance smiled back – or at least, he bared his teeth, which was almost the same thing. Merlin had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. ‘Hi,’ said Lance reaching out a hand that Merlin rather suspected was going to be bone-crushing. He let go of Gwen and accepted the handshake, and managed not to buckle under the pressure of Lance's Very Manly Indeed deathgrip of macho posturing.” LOL HOW HILARIOUS. Men treating women like objects and prizes to be won. Real knee slapper, that joke.

Gwen tells Merlin that Lance is going to be her Academic Dad and then informs us that there’s only 8 weeks until Raisin Weekend. Thanks, Exposition Gwen! So I also googled this Academic Family business since that’s not a thing we have here. So, basically an Academic Mum and Academic Dad are like mentors for first year students and freshmen are allowed to ask for someone to be their Academic Mother but the Academic Dad has to do the asking to the freshmen. So it makes no sense that Gwen was so shocked about Lance asking her. Whatever. Raisin Weekend is basically just an excuse to drink excessively with your Academic Parents and dress up in costumes that Monday and have shaving cream fights. Typical college nonsense.

“’Well, if I'd known they were giving away hot blokes with every room, I'd definitely have put my name down for McIntosh Hall.’ Lance made a startled noise, and his territorial expression shifted rather quickly into something entirely different and almost maiden auntish as Gwen punched Merlin's arm.” Get it, because Gay Merlin is no longer a threat to Lance chasing after Gwen. No one tell Lance bisexual people exist. I think his head would explode. No, you know what? Someone should tell him. He’s an asshole.

“Lance gave her a slightly sheepish grin. ‘It's okay,’ he said. ‘I'll be your designated driver – I'm not big on the alcohol.’ ‘I don't need a designated driver,’ said Gwen, looking at him sidelong. ‘It's a three minute walk! It would take longer to get a car started than it would to get there!’ ‘Right – well, designated guard dog, then. Or knight in shining armour, or guardian angel, or overprotective Dad – whatever you want to call it. I don't drink, so, you know – I'll make sure you're okay. Promise.’”

Oh my God. Slow your fucking roll and let her do what she wants. She’s not some poor defenseless damsel in distress.

Lance gives off an extreme sense of superiority in this fic. He’s a Buddhist, doesn’t drink, volunteers all over the fucking place as Professional Knight in Shining armor and he’s vegan. “’My Dad disapproves of the veganism,’ he admitted, sheepishly. ‘But it's not so hard, really. It feels good, knowing who I am, and what I want out of life. Being mindful in all things.’” Be more pretentious, Lance. Really, I want to see if you can top all of that.

“Merlin studied Lance, trying not to be too damned obvious about it. He wasn't at all sure if this guy was for real, or if he was playing some kind of elaborate joke, with all this holier-than-thou schtick. There was a disconcerting intensity to the man. Merlin wanted to like him, but he wasn't at all sure what to make of him. He did seem a bit too good to be true.” See, Merlin knows.

Oh and Lance is going to teach Gwen kickboxing. He has classes on Wednesday. Of course he does. Merlin is not into it, especially after meeting one of Lance’s students, Elaine. “Merlin looked at her biceps and swallowed. ‘Yeah – no thanks,’ he said, with a watery grin. ‘I've got a suspicion she'd crush me like a bug.’” Mostly I just included this because I wanted to talk about the phrase, “watery grin.” I see this ALL THE TIME in fanfic and it drives me crazy. What the fuck is a “watery grin?” If your smile is “watery,” swallow your fucking spit. That’s disgusting.

“Gwen bit her lip and glanced up at them. ‘Would you hate me forever if I left you for five minutes?’ she asked. ‘I need the ladies' room. I know I should have gone before we left, but I was caught up talking, and I didn't get around to it. Can you wait for me?’ ‘Until the stars fall from the sky,’ said Lance, bowing with an elaborate flourish that made Gwen roll her eyes.”

I don’t even have a response to this bullshit.

So Gwen goes to the bathroom and Merlin does his, “hurt her and I’ll kill you,” speech to Lance and afterwards they become friends and Lance offers to be Merlin’s Academic Dad.

When Gwen comes back she is absolutely flipping her shit because she saw Arthur. “’ComeOnComeOnComeOnComeOn!’ she said in a singsong voice. ‘You should see him! He's sitting at a table! Drinking a beer!’” Yes, let’s all go and gawk at him like an animal in the zoo. Gwen and Lance are being really annoying so far.

So Merlin tells Gwen that Arthur is his roommate and that he’s an asshole. He then requests that they not go stare at him like total creepers. Gwen is not happy. “He looked at Gwen and sighed. ‘Look, I promise that you'll get to see him again. In fact I'll text you when he's in the room, so you'll know when's a good time to swing by and visit me in Sally's and meet him properly. I'm sure he'd love to pose for a photo with you, and give you his signature, and all that kind of meet'n'greet thing.’” Ok, Merlin. This shit is why Arthur already doesn’t like you. No inviting people over to stalk your roommate and make promises on his behalf. Stop it.

They all go dance and Merlin makes a fool of himself doing the hammer dance, covered in glitter, wearing DIY hammer dance pants (I don’t know) that he got from… somewhere. Arthur stares at him and Merlin falls off the stage.

Chapter 4

Merlin wonders how many other sorcerers are at St. Andrews and we learn that he is there on scholarship. Must be nice. My poor loan debt ass is going to be paying for the two years I spent in nursing school for like ten years. Cheers.

Merlin hears Gwen laughing, “He spotted her over on the other side of the room, in front of a table advertising the St Andrews Fencing Society.” Gwen? Fencing? I mean, I guess. Why not? She’ll have a lot of time on her hands when she realizes the major she’s chosen doesn’t exist at that school. Gwen is with her roommate, Sophia.

“With that thought in mind, he marched purposefully over to the rainbow-festooned table advertising the St Andrews LGBT Society in cheery glittering letters. ‘Sign me up,’ he said, firmly, grinning at a bald girl with enough silver in her various cavities to sink a small ship. ‘I'm a card-carrying friend of Dorothy, and I'm gagging for a shag.’” What a colorful way to introduce yourself, Merlin.

Merlin stops in the middle of registering for his LGBT club to fantasize about Arthur. As you do. “’Oh, marvellous,’ said a faintly familiar voice behind him, rippling with laughter. ‘Oh, that's just perfect. Does Arthur know yet?’” The person is Morgana, “’Er...?’ he said, trying to think where he knew her from. ‘Sorry, are you talking to me?’ ‘He doesn't, does he? There'd have been even more bitching and whining if he did,’ she said, decisively. ‘Oh, this is going to be good.’” Get it? Because Arthur’s homophobia is such a hilarious joke and it’s going to be SO LAUGHABLE when he finds out his roommate is gay.

Merlin goes out for coffee with Morgana, who I do like in this fic minus her laughing at Merlin’s sexual orientation in the previous scene. Morgana asks Merlin if he is in to Arthur. “He's an insufferable, rude, arrogant, overprivileged berk, and I wouldn't suck his cock if he was the last man on earth and he was paying me, so there!” Me thinks the man doth protest too much.

“Fine. We won't talk about how much you want to get into my cousin's royal boxer shorts. So – magic!” Morgana gives no fucks. I like that about her. Merlin freaks out because you can’t just go talking about magic all willy nilly like that. Merlin insists on calling magic “macramé,” but Morgana is having none of it. They decided that their cover story for being so familiar with one another is that they have played World of Warcraft for years and are finally meeting in person. Sure. We also learn that Morgana is studying Art History. Good job, Morgana. That is also a subject that St. Andrews provides.

“’Now then – word on the street is that you might actually be worthy of that remarkable name.’ She took a long, thoughtful drag, and Merlin watched blue curls of smoke snake out of her nostrils like she was some kind of very small, elegant dragon. ‘Is it true that you changed the seasons?’ she asked. ‘No!’ Merlin said. ‘Or at least – well, not on purpose.’” Yikes, Merlin. I guess Merlin was 10 and throwing a tantrum about cherries not being in season so he changed the season from winter to summer. He also summoned a kracken when he was 12 years old on a school field trip. Poor Hunith having to deal with Merlin. He sounds like an insufferable child.

They then proceed to get drunk and Morgana becomes Merlin’s Academic Mother thingy. Merlin gets Morgana to be Gwen’s as well.

Chapter 5

Merlin gets back to his dorm and Arthur is there. Arthur apologizes to Merlin and suggests they start over. Arthur then realizes that Merlin is drunk. Merlin drunkenly tells Arthur that he is friends with Morgana and they were drinking together and that she is now Merlin’s Academic Mother. Turns out she is also Arthur’s. Who didn’t see that one coming? Arthur admits that he looked Merlin up and knows a lot of stuff about him. Merlin says stuff he shouldn’t say, basically admitting he is a sorcerer and he finds Arthur hot and Arthur doesn’t pick up on any of it. Arthur is stupid.

Merlin starts to fall asleep on the floor and Arthur can’t have that, for platonic friend reasons, and so he gets Merlin into bed and decides to help him drink water and take some pain killers. “There was an uncertain space of time, and then Merlin was being manhandled upright by someone warm and shirtless, who smelled good. Merlin knew he smelled good because he was slumped bonelessly with his nose pressed into the hollow of a freshly-washed collarbone. Because it seemed like a good idea, he licked it, and made a small appreciative sound, and then tried a gentle bite. The owner of the collarbone gave a startled hiss, and flinched away, but didn't drop him; and the voice, when it came again, was decidedly hoarse.”

See, Arthur is fucking stupid. If a friend/someone I wasn’t into randomly bit and licked my chest, drunk or not, I would be like, “yo, that’s not cool.” Because that’s not something someone does with their platonic friend.

When Merlin wakes up, “Another thought wandered idly through his brain, and he was faintly aware that it was significant: he wasn't alone. He was, in fact, wrapped around somebody else in the manner of an affectionate baby octopus, one leg tangled between theirs, one arm hooked firmly around a neat naked waist and his mouth pressed damply into the warm, soft-sharp curve of a shoulder blade.” Arthur is awake too, “Do you have any idea of how much fun and frivolity I could have been having last night, while you were busy cutting off the circulation in my limbs? I'll have you know I was going to have a fantastic evening.”

Umm… you made the choice to stay behind and spend the night cuddling your roommate, Arthur. You could have shoved him over if you wanted to.

Merlin and Arthur go get breakfast together. Merlin texts Gwen to tell her about Morgana being their Academic Mother and that she is also Arthur’s. Gwen freaks the fuck out.

That’s it for this review. It’s a decent set-up to the fic. We get to know a little bit about Merlin and how powerful he is. We also have a rough start to the Arthur/Merlin friendship but then it’s nice to see Arthur actually own up to his shit and apologize to Merlin. Arthur is stupid for not realizing how into him Merlin is. Gwen and Lance have been pretty annoying so far and if I remember correctly, they continue to be insufferable for the majority of this fic because their “will they won’t they” cliché set-up is stupid.

Until next time

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin fic #review #the student prince #modern royalty au #Merlin has magic #arthur is dumb #gwen and lance are annoying

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