#aithusa: *slow blinking at arthur*

[fluffypotatey]

Ay yo, you know how kittens do the thing where if you go like 🖐 they go 🙌???? Yeah, that, with Merlin and bby Aithusa.

that is the most sweetest image i've ever read

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Merlin zine! After so long, I’ve finally posted it, ahahaha. I wanted to do a piece on some of the lesser used characters, in that sad gap between end of canon/modern era.

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The path was well-hidden, with long grasses and weeds covering all but the faintest sliver of it. If Merlin hadn’t traversed it a thousand times by now, he would not have found it. As it was, he almost got lost three times. It was a good thing he had de-aged himself before coming here, or he would never have made it.

“Finally,” he grumbled as he emerged from the forest and walked toward the lake. Approaching the shoreline, he sank onto the grassy knoll next to the water. The ground was still soft after the spring rains. “That was tiring.”

You should rest then.  A voice bubbled out of the lake, washing around him like sea foam. Leaning forward, Merlin peered into the water to see a face smiling up at him.

“Freya,” he breathed, smiling broadly. Her face rippled in response, her image distorting slightly. Did she look the same as she had when they first met? He wasn’t sure; he could barely remember those early days. Not that he had to—she existed now, and for that, Merlin was grateful.

He was tired of saying goodbye.

How are you, Merlin? She started to emerge from the water, like an iceberg rising. Droplets ran down her body as she leaned against the lake’s bank. Resting her head on her crossed arms, she glanced up at him. “You’re scratched all over!”

“Nature took over,” he grumbled, gesturing back to the woods.  He could handle most things, but not the brambles and thorns. If only he had brought shears or a machete. “We should never have let go of the gardener.”

Freya blinked owlishly before laughing. “You never change.”

“I’d like to think I’m a little smarter.” Merlin pouted. Sitting back, he gave her a winning smile. “Maybe even handsomer?”

She broke out into a fresh burst of giggles, shaking her head. “Merlin!”

“Everyone has that exact response.” He frowned. Letting it go, he looked out over the lake at the castle. Avalon was just as untouchable, as unreachable as it had been that night. If only he had reached it then—would Camelot still be standing? Would Merlin still be alive now, centuries later?

There was a price for everything, and the price of failure was too much: a loss of home, of companionship.

Of memory.

Quietly, he asked, “Has he awoken yet?”

He didn’t really need to hear her reply, just as he didn’t need to see the pity in her eyes as she shook her head. “No, not yet.”

“He always did oversleep.” Merlin shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, trying to feign indifference. “That’s why I had to do all the hard work.”

“Well…” She gave him an impish grin. “You were very brave at least.”

“Were? And that’s all?” Merlin splashed her lightly and swiftly moved back before she could retaliate. He still wasn’t sure how much power over the water she had and he didn’t want to end up at the bottom of a lake.  Looking up, he could spot a white speck flying in the sky. “Is that Aithusa?”

Freya followed his line of sight, squinting. After a few minutes, she hummed affirmatively. “She likes to fly in the afternoon.”

“It helps her stretch her wings,” a throaty voice rumbled behind him. There was a soft grunt as a heavy body was dragged across the ground. “Her wings are slowly getting stronger and she needs the exercise.”

“Kilgharrah.” Merlin smiled. Getting up, he turned around to greet the old dragon. Unlike this place, time had not been kind to him. His wings were in tatters, his scales worn and dull, and, as he walked forward, there was a slight limp. “It’s good to see you again, old friend.”

“And you too, young warlock.” His lips curled back slightly, revealing his sharp canines as he smiled. “Though I suppose you are not so young anymore?”

Merlin sneered. “I don’t think you’re one to talk.”

“No, no, I suppose not.” The dragon didn’t argue, merely curling up on the ground. It had been centuries since he had flown, even longer since he had left this place. “How fares the world of man?”

Merlin sat back down, wrapping his arms around his knees. It had been almost fifty years since his last visit and yet, oddly enough, there wasn’t much to tell. Civilizations had risen and fallen, men had discovered new technologies and fought over them, and in the end, humanity remained the same. “I’m thinking of moving,” he replied instead. “I’ve been 70 for the past ten years. I can barely remember what it’s like to walk straight.”

Kilgharrah didn’t comment on the change of topic. “You still have not found any companions, Merlin?”

He shook his head with a wry grin. “It’s a little hard to make friends when I know how it’s going to end.” Almost everyone he met was an ordinary human, who would live an ordinary life and die an ordinary death. There were no kings, no noble quests and ancient monsters now.

Aside from this place, there was no magic.

“There are almost no sorcerers out there,” Merlin murmured. He looked down, playing with the ends of his shirt. “There are no druids, no witches—I even went to the source of the old magic and there was a small village there.”

“So it too has been lost,” the dragon murmured, glancing up at the sky.  Following Aithusa’s movements, he sighed. “I had expected it, but not so soon.  It seems the sky is the last untouched domain. Perhaps one day they will conquer that, too.”

“Are we safe here?” Freya asked, worried. She peered at the forest, as though humans would be marching out of the grove any moment now. Biting her lip, she dipped her hand into the lake. “I can’t leave this place.”

“No, they will not come here,” Kilgharrah consoled her, shaking his head. “Magic might be waning elsewhere, but here it is strong. Avalon cannot be touched by those who are not invited.”

“Why is magic disappearing?” Merlin lifted his head, watching his friend for his response. “I thought…you said I had succeeded.”

“You did,” the dragon replied simply, as though that was all he needed to say. And maybe, to him, it was enough.

But it wasn’t for Merlin. Not after all those years outside, those years spent watching magic become a fairytale, a story told at bedtime to help children sleep. Even Arthur had become legend, more myth than human, and Merlin couldn’t remember what was fact and what was fiction anymore.

“Then why is magic dying?” Merlin asked again, swallowing down his fear. “It’s even worse than it was during Uther’s time.”

“He would be happy to hear that.” The dragon snorted, annoyed to hear that name once more. “Even after death, the man still angers me.”

“I still can’t forgive him.” Freya frowned darkly, crossing her arms. “After all—"

“You’re avoiding the topic.” Merlin’s fingers dug into his shirt. They did this every time; Kilgharrah would change the subject, and Freya would follow suit. But not today. Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the dragon. “Did I fail?”

Taken aback, Kilgharrah shook his head slowly. “No—”

“Did I fail?” His voice broke, and Merlin trembled. “Is that why?”

There were things he could never forget, even if he wanted to. Arthur’s hand in his, his grip weakening. I’m cold, he had murmured, his voice barely a whisper. Hold me. His skin was clammy from sweat, cooling as the day faded away.

The light had died from his eyes before he could reach the water, before he could be saved. Merlin had lost his king, his friend, back then. What he had never considered was that he might have ruined magic, ruined Albion as well.

“Merlin.” A leathery snout brushed against Merlin’s body. He could feel the rumble from the dragon’s voice as he spoke. “You did not fail.”

“Then why is magic disappearing?” Merlin asked, gripping his wrists tightly. “Why is Arthur dead and Camelot gone and—” I’m left alone. He couldn’t say it, the words stuck to his throat like glue.

Kilgharrah seemed to understand anyway. “I do not know everything, Merlin. Despite my age, some things are secret to me as well.” Gently, he pushed his head next to Merlin’s body, calmly breathing in and out. Merlin could feel his own heartbeat slow down and follow suit. “I do know that you met your destiny and you did not fail. One day, the Once and Future King shall return and, with him, magic will flourish once more.”

Merlin leaned against the dragon, breathing in his scent. It was of charcoal, of earth and fire and centuries long gone. It shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was. They were kin, someone had told him once. Dragon and Dragonlord, connected by a deep magic. Perhaps that was why this felt almost like an uncle soothing him.

“All things must end.” The dragon sounded almost wistful as he spoke. “Even your wait shall one day end.”

“Will it?”

Freya pulled herself even higher out of the water, reaching out to grab Merlin’s limp hand. Squeezing it, she smiled. “It will. Until then, we’re here with you.”

“Freya…” Merlin grasped her hand back tightly. He was lonely, yes. Home was no longer what it was, yes. But what he had forgotten was that he wasn’t alone.

He still had Freya and Kilgharrah and even Aithusa. He still had a place to come back to. If Kilgharrah said his wait would be over one day, then it would. He had never led Merlin astray before.

“Thank you.” Merlin smiled, looking at Freya and then Kilgharrah. Wiping his eyes, he felt his ears grow hot with embarrassment. He had been acting like a child, and at his age, too. “Don’t tell Arthur about this. He’d never let me hear the end of it.”

The dragon chuckled. “Perhaps I was wrong. There are some things that do not end.”

“You’re supposed to reassure me!” Merlin grumbled.

“Don’t worry, we’ll keep it a secret. Just like with all the other times.” Freya deftly dodged his incoming splash before slipping back into the water. “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye.” Merlin waved. Turning back to the dragon, he grinned. “So I guess it’s just you and me now. Just like old times, huh?”

The dragon looked up at the sky once more, his eyes trained on Aithusa. She flew in figure eights, lower and lower with each lap. As she grew closer and closer, Merlin could see the slight dip in her flight, the shakiness of her movements. “I have a favour to ask of you, Merlin.”

“Sure.” Merlin couldn’t resist the rare change to tease his old friend. “It’s usually the other way around. It’s about time you asked.”

Kilgharrah didn’t take the bait. “Aithusa has been getting stronger. She might never be able to speak properly or fly as she should, but she is improving.” The dragon paused and closed his eyes. “I ask only that you keep an eye on her in the coming centuries, that you aid her in her growth.”

“I’ll…try…” Merlin winced, not liking it at all. Ever since he had killed Morgana, the dragon either tried to bite him or hurt him. “I thought you were taking care of her.”

“I was.” The dragon opened his eyes now, focusing on Merlin. “But I can no longer.”

The jest died from Merlin’s lips. This—this was serious. His voice came out a ghost, barely a whisper. “Why?”

“I might not be here next time you return, Merlin.” His words were casual, factual. As though they didn’t mean anything.

As though they didn’t mean everything.

Merlin froze. “No.”

“Everything ends, Merlin. Even I.”

“No.” Merlin couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Swallowing hard, he dug his fingers into his thighs. All he could think, could say, was that one word. That one plea. “No.”

“I told you centuries ago that my time was coming.” Almost tenderly, the dragon extended a wing to wrap around Merlin. “In order to save Arthur, I flew my last. Since then, it has merely been a question of when.”

“But…there has to be…” Merlin couldn’t deny the scars, the holes in the wing. Nor could he look away from the patchwork of scales on the dragon. When had he gotten so old? There were gaps in his hide, areas where aged skin showed through. Just when had it gotten so bad? Now?

“Not today. Maybe not tomorrow.” The dragon breathed out softly. “But when you return next, I will not be here. It is only too bad I shall not live to see the return of magic.”

“I can’t save you?” His voice came out a ragged whisper and he buried his face in his knees.

There was a price for everything. A witch had told him that, centuries ago. Merlin could barely remember her aside from her sharp blue eyes and the wicked curve of her red lips. She had held out a golden chalice as she spoke. There is a price for everything: an eye for an eye, a life for a life.

Merlin thought of his wait, of the eons that would pass before Arthur returned. What was the price of a king, of a friend? He had been paying it all these years, and he would be paying it for years to come. Even that was not enough to equal the price of a life. He looked up at the dragon, at the last of his kin.

He could not take that cup again, could not fill it with the waters of life and force him to remain.

“It is my time,” Kilgharrah said. “Just as it had been your friend’s time before me.”

There was no fighting it. Merlin blinked back his tears—he had already cried enough today. “I’ll take care of her.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” The dragon looked across the lake. “Perhaps I was too hasty back then.”

“Hasty?” Merlin blinked, confused.

“When I asked you to retrieve her egg.” The dragon sighed and lowered his head. Resting on the ground, he closed his eyes. “I should have waited longer.”

What if. I should have. Those thoughts had plagued Merlin’s mind for the past few centuries. Arthur could have lived. Gwen wouldn’t have cried. What if, what if.

“What’s this, doubt?” Merlin teased, forcing a chuckle. “The great dragon thinks he’s wrong?” Rising, he walked up and pressed his face against the dragon’s nose. “It’ll be fine. I’ll take care of her, and it’ll be fine.”

He would be damned if he let Kilgharrah die plagued with regret.

“Hmm…” The dragon sighed, ruffling Merlin’s clothes. “Thank you, Merlin.”

“It’s nothing.” He stepped back. Forcing a smile, he gestured at toward the forest. “I have to go now—I’ll come back soon.”

Kilgharrah gave him a long look before nodding. “Goodbye, kin.”

The finality of it all settled on him like a woollen cloak. Not trusting his voice, Merlin waved and left.

There’s a price for everything, a witch had warned him once.

He had understood that. He just never thought the price for waiting would be so steep.

[whimstories]

Prompt: “Can I kiss you?”

Fandom: Merlin 

A/N: I’m learning that I find it very hard to write below 2k, apparently??? I’m ashamed. But even with just 2k I couldn’t elicit the emotions I wanted realistically conveyed from the characters. I need to work on that. Feedback appreciated, enjoy! ~~

Once upon a time there was a young prince that lived in the visage of his father. His father, King Uther Pendragon, was a strong, intuitive, an excellent fighter, and a proper diplomat. 

His father was a righteous king to those he found worthy, but to those that were not, they were dealt the greatest injustice. The prince could not see there was an evil growing within the king, clouded by grief and ignorance. That an evil had festered into hatred and prejudice after his wife, the queen, perished the day of the prince’s birth. The king was the only true family the prince ever knew and all his life revolved around making his father proud.

In the prince’s efforts he inevitably shadowed the dismissive disposition of the king into his own personality. The prince was arrogant, spoiled, and naive to the plight of people below his station. The kingdom worried of another generation of Uther Pendragon.

One day the prince went into the woods to hunt. He was well trained as a knight and took solace in owning his skills in the wilderness. Dropping from his mount, the prince took his knife, crossbow, and bundle of arrows to a small clearing where he usually set up with his knights. He waited behind a large brush for any sign of life to pass. If there was no luck, he rose to another regular spot he and the knights marked. A few hours in waiting, the prince did not find any such luck. The sun was not high and his irritation was growing. As he rose to turn back to the first brush, he saw a large white stag speed past a few trees.

The prince took a brisk step in the direction of the white animal, careful not to make a startling noise. The bright color kept the animal in sight so, it was not hard to follow. The prince did not want to fall deep into the forest and took many efforts to slow the animal, but it always swerved around a tree. The longer he followed, the closer he became, but he also noticed the shape was not what he originally thought.

The animal stepped into a clearing next to a grand lake. Arthur finally had a clear study of the beast; for it was a great beast. The long white neck twisted to the right and nuzzled its snout against long, pale fingers. The prince realized in his shock that there was another person on the lake’s edge.

The young man’s figure was lean, his hair was black and wild, and his clothes were simple in station. He was smiling gently at the beast and the prince was mesmerized by the sincere glow that lit his features. His face brightening in many emotions, as if he was dancing in a social exchange with the creature.  The prince felt a light shiver and his mouth ran dry. He could acutely feel the ground beneath his feet and the escalation of his heart, as he could not look away. Suddenly, the young man’s eyes narrowed, his head jerking in a nod at the creature, and turned in the direction of the prince behind the tree.

“Reveal yourself!” The man yelled. The Prince was trained well but he was careless in his chase. The trail he followed was unfamiliar and the sensations a moment ago had distracted him from his situation. Plus, if he did turn to run away, the beast would catch him in a moments time. He stayed still and refused to move.

There was a crack above the Prince’s head and he glanced up. A large branch descended above and the prince had to roll forward into an open patch to escape it. What bad luck.

He stared; the man and the beast stared openly in return. “Who are you?” The prince demanded.

“Why were you following Aithusa? Did you think your hair might blind her to death, because those arrows certainly would not.” The man smirked at the prince and remained seated.

“Who is Aithusa?”

“They always said knights were slower than most. She said she let you follow her here. But as dragons are cryptic and vague, she will not tell me why.”

“A dr—A dragon? I thought them gone?” The prince responded. The man looked back with a hard glance and sadness furrowing his brows. The prince felt guilty to mentioned it.

“I hope the world will not allow something so cruel. Would you like a seat?”

The prince did not know what to do. He was not trained for a dragon encounter. But he was also very curious on this young man, lounging deep in the forest. He could be a threat keeping company with a dragon, but he also was a threat for enticing the prince so quickly. The prince stood rocking on his heels, gripping his bow tight.

“You are a knight from Camelot?” The man said, not looking back. “Isn’t there a code about bravery, agility, and wit? How do you get by with just one?”

The prince bristled. “I am the best knight in the kingdom! I do not need a lecture from a scrawny, forest dwelling peasant.”

“Peasant! Do you always carry a spare bow up your arse when you talk to people?”

“I speak as I wish. Do you not know who I am?”

“Should I know every prat nobleman from Camelot? If that is the law, I would not be surprised.” The man looked to his left at his beastly companion, looking affronted. “I’m being rude? Why did you lead him here knowing what I think of his kind?”

The man did not know he was the prince. Perhaps if he is diplomatic, the man will not send the dragon in his wake. He has a prejudice against those in Camelot, so it was likely he was a magic user, but maybe this encounter would prove fruitful to them both.

“I’m Arthur.” The prince nodded at the man and shuffled to sit beside him. “Perhaps, I was quick to snap at you. I traveled farther than I meant and…perhaps, I am unaccustomed to your dragon.”

“Scared.” The man parried back.

“Tense.”

“Skittish.”

“Nervous.”

“I’ll take that. I’m Merlin.” Merlin stuck out his hand towards Arthur. Arthur looked at it dubiously then slowly lifted his gloved hand and shook. Merlin returned a beaming smile and Arthur’s muscles melted.

They talked for many hours about the current state of Camelot and the merits of magic. Arthur never had the opportunity to speak to a magic user and he wondered if they all were as passionate as Merlin. His eyes sparkled, his hands were expressive, and he said the word magic like he was whispering endearments to a lady love. He apologized for dropping the branch, which Arthur did not realize Merlin caused, and with Arthur’s permission, showed him the joys of magic.

Arthur’s jaw was tight when he waited for Merlin’s first display. All his father’s talk of magic were of barbarians and blood shed. After speaking to Merlin, he realized how naive he was about the world’s experience with magic, but it did not erase his engrained apprehension. Arthur was staring at Merlin as he cast an enchantment, his eyes were glowing gold like the first rays in the morning light. Arthur leaned towards Merlin’s face, expecting the gold to spread and shimmer across his features, like Merlin was truly a magical creature. For there could not be another like him.

Instead of gold, Merlin’s face flushed red when he saw Arthur leaning towards him. He cleared his throat and nodded his head forward.

“Look ahead, Arthur.” Merlin whispered. Arthur blinked, the back of his neck warm, and turned towards the lake. Dancing out of the lake was a blue creature, flying and twirling in fluid circles. It took Arthur a moment to realize it was water in the shape of a small dragon. Every swoop of its wings caused small droplets to trickle behind in a cascading rain.

Arthur turned back to Merlin, eyes wides and mouth parted. Merlin was looking at Arthur, gauging his reaction. It was wrong to blindly follow his father, Arthur thought in that moment. He could not comprehend ever objecting to Merlin; he could not comprehend ever living his life without experiencing the joy of Merlin. In that moment, Arthur was entranced and he was not sure if it wasn’t a spell. He panicked and looked away.

“So, parlor tricks. Entertainment at feasts. That’s the use of magic, is it?” Arthur stated. Merlin shook his head as if in a daze himself, and shoved at Arthur’s shoulder and leaned towards his face.

“Do not worry, my noble prat, there is much more I can show you.” He whispered in earnest then stood up and began to demonstrate more spells. Arthur’s body flushed down to his knickers and he imagined the things Merlin could truly show him. He grunted and adjust his seat to watch Merlin.

The hours passed and the connection between the two men increased throughout the day. Merlin told Arthur he was a Dragonlord, protector of dragons, and Arthur told him about his life as a knight. They laughed, teased, and engaged in many conversations that Arthur would never bestow below his closest family. Merlin pushed and pulled at Arthur’s emotions. He challenged him in debates over the state of Camelot. He enchanted Arthur with a single smile, and enticed him in light touches.

It was close to nightfall when Arthur realized he must leave before a search party would be sent for him. The dragon left them alone an hour prior and Arthur thought he should leave before it returned.

His throat felt thick as he swallowed to speak the words he did not want to say. “I have to go. I have shirked my duties enough for one day.” Arthur said, gathering his bow and arrows. He walked to the edge of the forest and paused to say goodbye.

“I knew the moment we met that you were a good-for-nothing knight. Following a dragon alone is pretty foolish, even a tame one.” Merlin was standing close to Arthur, head tilted and eyes teasing.

“If it attacked, wouldn’t that make you a good-for-nothing Dragonlord?”Arthur responded. He could feel his breath bouncing off of Merlin’s upper lip. His left arm was tingling to reach forward and pull Merlin’s hip close.

“No, it makes me a very good one. I know how to handle stubborn creatures.” Merlin smiled and inched his hand toward’s Arthur’s left, closing the gap. Their fingers entwined, a sharp prickle of pleasure rushing through the contact. Arthur clenched his right hand around the bow and promptly released it to the sands.  The hand glided along Merlin’s throat, inspecting every detail from his chin to collar bone. He did not know what he was doing, but he knew it was not an enchantment. Not one enacted by a spell.

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered, his pulse was pounding against Arthur’s hand.

“Are you scared?” Arthur responded. Merlin cast a swift glance at Arthur’s eyes.

“A bit tense.” Merlin clarified. Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin’s hair, brushing through the messy locks. Merlin closed his eyes and groaned, leaning towards Arthur’s hand.

“Skittish.” Arthur breathed. Merlin smiled instantly.

“Not nervous.” Merlin continued to stare at Arthur, neither wanting to move.

“Will I see you again?” Arthur broke the silence. Merlin’s eyes were downcast in response. He reached up to Arthur’s jaw and stroked along the edge.

“You should go.” He began to step away, loosening their entwined hands. Arthur knew there was something he had to do in these final moments. He would see Merlin again. He knew it, but he did not know when.

He kept his grip in Merlin’s hair and tugged him close, pressing their hips together. Arthur pressed his cheek against Merlin, lips close to his ear. He kissed the edge of his jaw—Merlin’s breathing escalated—he opened his mouth wider and licked lower on his neck—Merlin clutched Arthur’s upper back—he sucked on his neck and traveled his left hand wherever it found purchase, memorizing Merlin’s body. After Arthur knew he left a dark mark on his neck, he kissed up to Merlin’s cheek to the corner of his mouth. Their foreheads were pressed together and Merlin’s eye’s were black, intent on Arthur’s stare.

“Can I kiss you?” Arthur’s voice was heavy and hoarse in desire. Merlin made the decision in an instant and wrapped his mouth around Arthur’s lower lip. He lapped and sucked at Arthur’s mouth, abusing it until Arthur’s legs felt weak. Merlin’s arms were wrapped around Arthur’s shoulders, dragging their bodies into a close embrace. Arthur opened his mouth to Merlin and reaped the rewards of devouring all of Merlin’s magic in a single kiss.

The embrace lasted but a few minutes but the shiver of pleasure that ran through them would fuel their dreams for years. Arthur ended the kiss with light pecks around Merlin’s face.

Arthur left moments later and Merlin watched him walk away. Arthur knew he would fight to find Merlin again, but understood that they would be left apart because they were already worlds apart. Camelot would not allow him to live in their walls and Arthur knew there were years of mental shackles he needed to release from his father’s grasp. He accepted Merlin because Merlin was unique in a way that even Arthur could see. Arthur could not be confident in viewing every magic user the same.

Arthur felt it was too early for them to have met and been happy. Arthur would have to build a future for them and it might take many years. It was a battle worthy of his crown.