#camelot fabrics

[bevanne46]

Pretty Flowers Cotton Fabric by Jackie Studios, LLC - Cotton Fabric by Camelot Fabrics 1 yard (37") x 44"W They look like the Pretty Hawaiian Plumeria Flowers on a Grey Background Colors in various pinks, greens and yellow. Perfect for apparel, quilting or crafts Other Fabrics also available Find it here: https://www.tedooo.com/product/64960a929594da8730b985c5

[wyrmscraft]

I love the fabric you are using in your new beads quilt, the ones with the honeycombs. What line is it? I adore bee and honeycomb fabrics!

The fabric line is called “Welcome to Our Hive” by Courtney Morganstern for Camelot Fabrics!

[chiropteracupola]

I remember, I swear - I was eighteen at the time / Time to spare - far from the wind and rain / And blueness reaching into every corner...

[a perceval for @mortiscausa's 'march to camelot,' for the prompt 'fool']

[justaz]

as much as i hate uther, i don’t believe him to be homophobic. him and gaius definitely experimented when they were younger. i think it much funnier that uther doesn’t care that merlin’s a boy. yeah sure he’s a little stuck on the class difference (why on earth would arthur go for a servant???). but the thing that really sets him off, has him spitting with rage, is the sorcerer part.

he doesn’t care that his sons gay, he can even excuse the class difference, but he draws the LINE at sorcery

[gdn019283]

They should have dwelled more into Merlin’s skills (and I’m not talking about just magic)

As I rewatched Merlin, I realised this man has so many skills?!

We often talk about how surely Arthur must have thought him how to use a sword (I agree 100%) but Merlin also knows how to hunt?

He dislikes it, yet years and years of going hunting with Arthur proves to be fruitful. Merlin founds the deer in season four before the entire Camelot patrol. He knows how to recognise tracks on trees and traces of feet in the mud (he knows how to build them in the right way with magic, too). And I have proof that Arthur teaches Merlin, because in season five, Arthur makes Merlin see what was wrong with the branch. when they went out and Arthur noticed that someone (Mordred) had walked past the woods.

Also, season four, episode two? Merlin wakes up before Lancelot and HE IS HUNTING FISH LIKE A MASTER?!

Have we talked about this? Who taught him? I believe most things he already knew how to do, since he grew up in a village with a single mother where everyone had to fetch up for themselves.

He also knows how to cook. And he gets compliments (even if they are jokes) from the Knights and Arthur himself too.

HE IS A PHYSICIAN, and I wished we could have seen so much more of that, because he is hot, because it proves that is so good at learning, listening and also teaching. He tells Daegal how to get rid of the poison, poison, in his body and HE IS STILL SO HUMBLE ABOUT IT?! He spent more than ten years being an apprentice and when Daegal tells him he is a good physician, Merlin denies it?! Bro has low self esteem.

Merlin also has all the skills required from a servant, like sewing, cleaning specific fabric in a certain way, polishing armour and so many other things, adjusting swords and weapons ecc.

I guess it pisses me off when Merlin is described (heavily in fanfictions too) like an incapable manservant, unable to do things for himself or defend himself without magic, when he spent ten years in Camelot doing new work after new work. Just because he was scared at the end of season five without his powers (because he had never lost them before) it doesn’t mean Merlin isn’t capable of using a sword, or help himself, since he does and challenges Morgana too, even without powers.

[merrilinie]

During a hunt, Merlin wonders off after claiming he could hear meowing. None of the Knights could hear the sound but Merlin was adamant and insisted he go find the poor thing. They let him after he promised not to wonder too far and almost an hour later he returned with his neck heir bundled in his arms.

From the piece of fabric came a soft, rumbling purr.

They all watched him as he cleaned the little thing up with his water. The animal itself barely even fit in his whole hand, small and wet and covered in dirt and tiny little bugs that could be seen jumping up every now and again.

Arthur told him to leave it so he wouldn’t get fleas but Merlin wasn’t listening, too busy carefully drying the kitten up and whisper sweet words of comfort despite the obvious language barrier.

Percy gave him some more water so the little thing could eat and Merlin beamed, which was the only reason Arthur gave up on trying to get him to abandon the thing for everyone’s well being.

He bought him back to Camelot with them, never letting go of it throughout the entire ride.

Any time he wasn’t serving Arthur or helping Gaius, he was with the little kitten. He helped it rid its fleas and slowly fed it until he was much more kitten shaped then it had been. He admittedly used a little magic on the fleas, as well as the blisters and cuts on the little things feet.

After a week he named her Constance, Connie for short. After a proper bath the kitten was revealed to have a few white spots on its black fur, around its paws and chest.

Eventually, when she was bigger and much more a healthy young cat, she started to follow him around the castle as he tended to his tasks. Connie could be seen sitting on his shoulders and back as he hunched over to clean Arthur’s boots and armour, or in his lap as he restitched a torn short, or most commonly, trialing along after her owner with a swishing tail.

She was bigger than most cats with a rich looking face and an endless amount of fluff, which was the only give away that Arthur actually liked her when he was caught with fluff on his white tunics.

[multifandom-aroace]

Gwen's wardrobe in season five makes me sad. (I'm not the best at analysing but please bear with me)

Partly it is the fact that it just doesn't look like something she would wear. Like I get that she looks good. She doesn't look out of place in any way, but her clothes just don't suit her.

obviously she looks regal and beautifully. she looks like a queen, but she doesn't look like gwen.

I understand that what she wore before wasn't exactly what a queen should be wearing, but it feels like in costume design they went a bit too far in the opposite direction. all the colours are too dark, the details don't really fit with her personality. her costumes throughout the show are all relatively similar but once she becomes queen it feels like she changes completely. this probably reflects how her personality changes, which I also don't like. you would think that since she wasn't raised in nobility she would be fair and kind, not willing to kill a servant girl just because she overheard a conversation. it feels like they set it up from the beginning of the season for us to dislike her.

when I think of guinevere I think of costumes like these

these flower corsets are some of my favourite things she wears, and she could have worn something similar when she was queen.

I started thinking, in terms of the show, about why she might have changed her costume design so much and then I thought it might have something to do with respect. swen was a servant turned queen, and probably a lot of the people of camelot wouldn't have liked this much. you know, tradition and shit. so she probably drew inspiration from the other nobility she knew and decided to dress like that. for example, a lot of what she wears is similar to what Morgana wore.

like, obviously thay aren't exactly the same but it feels like there is definitely inspiration here.

this is probably because Morgana was respected (obviously before she because evil).

a lot of the female nobility/royalty clothing we see from camelot and the other kingdoms is Morgana, although we also see this from other visiting people, such as vivian, mithian and elena.

(best picture I could find of her full dress)

obviously elena is wearing a wedding dress here but she is literally marrying Arthur (who gwen married which is why she started wearing these clothes in the first place), and we can see that this colour and style is available to her class.

mithian and vivian are both wearing lighter, more delicate styles, and I get that these aren't anything I could see gwen wearing either but it's definitely closer than what she's actually wears. need I remind you that mithian was supposed to marry Arthur as well?

one thing I could find that is similar is literally gwen's coronation dress. while not exactly the same, it does seem very similar to somathing Morgana wore when she became queen

I feel like the purple and the gold colour scheme seem quite similar, as well as the sleeves and the general embroidered decorations.

I do also feel like this might be the most similar to gwen's original style that she goes in terms of her costumes as queen. it's a lighter colour and the gold decorations feels less heavy than when it is mixed with a darker fabric. this dress is more silky and delicate, rather than one of the first things she wears in season 5

the gold appears to be maybe a darker shade of gold especially when mixed with the maroon colour of the dress. this dress is clearly perfect for a queen, but it just doesn't feel like gwen. (not necessarily connected to Morgana jsut another point)

i guess what she was trying to do was remind the people of camelot that she was to be respected, and she knew how much people had loved Morgana. vivian and elena, on the other hand, were not. they were only in camelot for a short time but in that time they didn't really get people to like them. vivian was rude and elena was a bit 'weird' to them (not sure how else to describe their reactions to her). gwen didn't even meet mithian because she was in exile (another reason she needed people to respect her), so Morgana was the best person to take inspiration from.

the connection to morgana's outfits could also represent the connection between them later in the season and when gwen is under her control

overall, I think they did gwen dirty in the final season and she definitely deserved better.

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 1

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 3,245

Read on Ao3

The king and queen of Camelot sit at breakfast in the royal chambers, cherishing their morning together before they are required for their duties.

“Oh, that reminds me,” King Arthur says, fork in hand. “The royal clothier is retiring. He has served us for many years, but is getting too old to continue in the position. I shall look among those who serve the nobility for a worthy successor,”

“Why not look in the town?” Queen Guinevere takes a sip from her goblet. “There are many skilled people there. They should not be overlooked just because they have not yet made a name for themselves. We should give them a chance,”

The king smiles at his wife. “You’re right. The common people should have the opportunity to shine. Would you like to see to it, or shall I?”

Knowing that Arthur’s version of him ‘seeing to it’ would be to send out his manservant to do it for him, the queen decides against it.

“I shall go. I would like to see how our people in the city fair. I haven’t been to the lower town for some time,”

~

Having just reorganized the shelves where the fabrics are stored and displayed, you sweep the floor, gathering any dust and threads that may have fallen during your time tidying. Once a neat pile is formed, you return the broom into the back room and reach for a dustpan and brush, when you hear the familiar jingle of your doorbell, alerting you that someone has entered your shop.

Hastily brushing off your dress with your hands, you step into the small shop front, to see the finest lady who has ever entered your humble establishment. Not just any lady either, but the Queen of Camelot herself. You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment, before lowering into a deep curtsy.

“How may I be of service, my queen?”

“Please, there is no need for such formality,” The queen beckons for you to stand. “What is your name?”

You tell her.

The queen smiles. “Well, (Y/N), I would like you to make me a new gown,”

Her words strike you with utter disbelief, and you’re surely standing with mouth ajar, like a gaping fish.

“Is that something you could do?” The queen asks, jolting you out of your paralysed state.

“Of course my lady, it would be an honour to fashion a new gown for you. Although I am not sure if I stock any fabrics fine enough,”

“I shan’t know until I have seen what you have. Shall we take a look?” she gestures to the fabric shelf behind the counter.

“Of course,” You lead her to the display. “As you can see, it is mostly wool and linen. Any finer fabrics I have are in small lengths, for bodices and girdles and such,”

The queen peruses the fabrics, handling some between her fingers to inspect them. Her dark eyes look over the various bolts, before resting on one on the lower shelf.

“What about this?” She reaches for a silvery-purple velvet.

“Oh yes,” You say, bending down to slide out the bolt. “This was for a wedding gown for a merchant’s daughter. Unfortunately, the wedding was called off,”

“That is sad indeed,” The queen says. “Do you think you might use the fabric for something else?”

“Honestly, no. It has been sitting there for some time. You see, I usually don’t work with such fine fabrics. I just don’t get those sort of customers,”

“Well, then it seems fate has decided,” The queen smiles. “I would like my new gown to be made with it,”

“Yes, my lady,” You pick up the bolt and place it on a nearby table. “Do you have a particular style of gown and trimmings in mind? If not, I can draw up some ideas,”

“I think I would like you to surprise me,”

Her answer is unexpected, filling you with nervousness but also excitement. “Very well, my lady. I will just need to take your measurements, then I can get started right away,”

You show her to the back room and close the door once you’re both inside. Taking out a tape measure, your sewing journal and a quill and ink, you take the queen’s measurements, marking the numbers down in the journal. Once that is complete, you wish each other good day.

Once the queen of Camelot steps out of your shop, you exhale, releasing tension you didn’t realise you were holding. The whole encounter hardly feels like it even happened.

~

For the next two days, you work on the queen’s gown. First, you sketch a number of designs until you come up with one you’re pleased with. Then you draft the pattern, before sewing a calico mock-up of the gown. On the morning of the third day, the mock-up is ready for a test fitting, so you place it carefully in a wicker basket you usually use for shopping at the market, along with your case of dressmaking tools.

You trudge your way up the muddy streets of the lower city, legs aching from the incline, when you finally reach Camelot castle.

You pass through the portcullis and over the bridge, finding yourself in a large courtyard. You look around in wonder at the grand, snowy-white walls of the palace, never having seen a structure so ornate. Yes, you have of course seen a view of the turrets from a distance in the lower town, but it doesn’t compare to seeing it up-close.

Once you’ve taken in the sights, it occurs to you that you have no idea where to go. Turning on the spot, you attempt to identify entrances into the castle. Would it be most proper to find a servant’s entrance? Perhaps you should find someone who looks like a servant to help you. You’re about to single out someone in the courtyard when footsteps approach you from behind. You whirl around to see a man dressed in chainmail and a scarlet cloak: a knight of Camelot. You have seen them come and go through the lower town, both on foot and on horseback. You’d often watch them as they passed, wondering what sights they might see on their patrols and quests throughout the kingdom.

The knight has dark, shoulder length hair that waves at the ends, and facial hair, a length somewhere between stubble and a short beard.

“Do you need some help?” He asks. “You look a little lost,”

“I need to see the queen,” You reply.

“And what business might you have with the queen of Camelot?” He asks in a way not at all accusatory or suspicious, but as a general inquiry.

“The queen has tasked me with making a new gown for her. I have come to conduct a fitting,”

He nods, your reason accepted. “I can take you to her. Here,” He reaches for the handle of your basket and takes it from your grasp.

“There’s no need for you to carry that, sir. I can manage,” You move to take the basket back.

The knight pulls his arm away so you can’t reach it. “And there’s no need to call me sir. The name’s Gwaine,”

“A pleasure to meet you, Gwaine. I am (Y/N),”

“Well met,” He smiles. “Shall we go?” He inclines his head toward a staircase across the courtyard.

You follow your guide into the castle and up a narrow flight of stairs. As you pass through a corridor, he turns his head to you.

“I haven’t seen you around here before. Have you been in Camelot long?” He asks, maintaining his stride.

“A couple years,” You reply, keeping pace. “I still can’t believe the queen visited my shop to commission a gown,”

“That is quite the honour,” Gwaine says, turning a corner and leading you down another passage, before halting in front of a double door. “Here we are. Let’s see if she’s in,”

He knocks upon the door thrice.

“Enter,” a feminine voice says from within.

Gwaine opens the door and pokes his head inside. “(Y/N) to see you about a dress,”

He steps aside and gestures for you to enter.

“Good luck,” He smiles as he hands you your basket and heads back the way he came.

You step into the royal chambers, where the queen stands beside a rectangular table, two windows in the wall behind her flooding the room with light.

“Please come inside,” The queen says with a smile.

“Thank you my lady,” You come forward a few steps. “I have made a mock-up version of your gown, so that I may conduct a fitting. Then I can see if any adjustments need to be made before I start on the actual gown,”

“Of course. You may set your things down here,” She gestures to the table.

You place your basket down and retrieve the dress, a box of pins and a piece of chalk from within it. The queen shows you to the left of the room, where a double archway leads into a bedchamber. A large, four poster bed is positioned against the back wall. On the adjacent wall is a stained glass window with a writing desk in front. Against the wall opposite the bed is a full length mirror beside a wardrobe and a wooden privacy screen, which the queen steps behind.

“Do you need some assistance getting undressed, my lady?”

“Yes, thank you. Just with the back fastenings,”

She sweeps her curly, dark brown locks over her shoulder so you can access said fastenings. Once they are all undone, she does the rest, removing the gown so she is just in her shift. You help her into the mock-up gown and pin it closed at the back.

“Turn around please, my lady,”

The queen does as you say, and you inspect the fit of the gown. You place pins here and there, where adjustments need to be made, and make some markings with chalk. Once you are satisfied, you help her undress.

“If you have the time, my lady, I’d like to make these adjustments now, so we can try it on again in a few moments,”

“I have time,” She gestures to the table for you to sit down, while she opens the wardrobe and retrieves a crossover robe, which she slips on over her shift. She then joins you at the table, sitting at the other end to give you space to work.

“It still seems so strange having someone else make my clothes for me,” She says.

You glance up from your work.

“I used to be in your place now, making gowns for… well…” She trails off.

“Do you ever miss how things used to be?” You ask, as you weave your needle in and out of the fabric.

The queen looks to the side thoughtfully.

“I’m sorry,” You say quickly. “That’s probably a silly question,”

“No, not at all,” The queen smiles reassuringly. “There are some things I miss about those days. As a servant, I could pass through the castle and go completely unnoticed. You can’t go anywhere like that as queen. Everyone’s eyes are on you at all times, like they’re waiting for you to slip up, make a mistake,”

You nod as you listen to her answer. “That must be difficult,”

“It can be,” She agrees. “But one thing I definitely don’t miss is hauling buckets of water up flights of stairs to fill my mistress’ bathtub,”

You laugh. “Indeed. Hopefully one day someone works out a better system,”

You finish off your stitch, snipping off the end with scissors.

“The adjustments are made, if you’d like to try it on again?”

You both return to the screen and you repeat the process from before, pinning the gown closed and having her turn around. You look over the garment, smoothing and tugging some areas, until you step back, satisfied.

You help the queen out of the mock-up gown and back into her regular gown, before you pack the mock-up and your sewing tools back into the basket.

“I will get to work with the velvet right away. It should be ready in a few days,”

“Wonderful,” The queen replies. “But please do not rush yourself. I have no deadline to meet,”

You give a small curtsy and leave the royal chambers, tracing your steps back to the courtyard, thankfully not getting lost on the way. Once you’re in familiar ground again, you make your way home in good time.

~

You spend the next few days working on the queen’s gown, your focus entirely on that task, since you don’t have any other work at the moment. Truth be told, your business hasn’t been doing so well, and you’ve been starting to think you might have to find more work. But this job for the queen should help to at least give you more time to figure something out.

Four days pass and the gown is finally finished. As you look over your creation, you believe it is your finest work yet. Once you’ve made yourself some lunch, you wrap the gown in paper, and carry the parcel up to the castle.

With no knight to guide you this time, you make your own way across the courtyard and up the steps, entering the castle to climb stairs and walk down corridors, until you make it to the royal chambers. You rap on the door and the queen greets you a moment later, beckoning you inside.

“It is finished, my lady,” You hold out the parcel in front of you. “Would you like to try it on?”

“I would love to,” The queen presses the palms of her hands together excitedly.

You follow her to the dressing screen and help her out of her current gown and into the new. Once it’s all fastened, she steps over to the large mirror by the wardrobe and gasps once she sees her reflection.

“(Y/N), this is absolutely beautiful,” She turns her body from side to side, looking at every angle, before shooting an ecstatic grin your way.

“If there is anything at all you would like changed or adjusted, just say the word,”

“Oh no, this is perfect,” She strides toward you, taking your hands in hers. “You are very skilled, (Y/N), you should be immensely proud of your work,”

Warmth flushes your cheeks at the compliment. “Thank you, my lady,”

“I won’t wear it today, since I’ve already been seen about the castle wearing something else. I don’t want to appear as a frivolous queen who changes her gown five times a day,” She grins. “I’ll wear it to the council meeting tomorrow, I think. If you can help me back into my other gown, I have something I want to discuss with you,”

You join the queen behind the screen again to help her undress. Once she’s back in her previous gown, she leads you to the table and you sit down together.

“Tell me, (Y/N), are you happy with your current situation in the lower town?”

Taken aback at the question, you’re unsure what to say.

“Please, be honest,” The queen says. “Is your shop doing well? Can you get by comfortably?”

You look down at your hands in your lap. “Truthfully, my lady, business is not so good,”

She gives you a sympathetic look. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable by asking you. I just wanted an idea what your situation was, before I made you any offer,”

“Offer?”

“I am very pleased with your work, (Y/N), and that is why I want to offer you the position of Royal Clothier,”

You stare, gobsmacked. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” She smiles. “I understand this is no small thing. If you accept, you would move into your own chambers in the castle. You would leave behind your current home and shop. However, as royal clothier, you will not need to rent your rooms as they come with the position. The chambers are fully furnished and well-lit, perfect for needlework,”

You listen intently, trying to absorb every word of what the queen is saying. No more worrying about making rent, no more hunching over your work in a dingy room, no more fretting about if and when the next job might come along.

“I know this is a lot to take in, so I don’t expect you to answer right away. You may have a few days to think it over,”

“I don’t need to think it over,” You blurt out. Of course you’re scared. It’s a huge change. But you can’t carry on how you are now. You know this has to be a step in the right direction, and not just a step forward, but a step up. “I accept the position,”

“That’s wonderful!” The queen grins. “Of course you must have a few days to pack up your belongings. Please let me know if you need any help, I can arrange for someone to assist you,”

“I don’t have much to move,” You admit. “I will be able to manage on my own. Thank you for your kindness my lady. I cannot express how much it means to me to be given this opportunity,”

The queen takes your hand in hers. “You deserve for your skill to be recognised, (Y/N). I am more than happy to help with that,”

Overcome from this kindness, you find it hard to keep your emotions in check.

“I can see that I’ve quite overwhelmed you,” The queen says, standing up. “I should let you get back home,”

You stand as well. “Thank you again, my lady. You can expect me in two days’ time. I won’t need any more,”

“Excellent,” She leads you to the door, and opens it partially, looking back at you. “Just one more thing, (Y/N). My name is Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen, and I would like us to be friends,”

You smile. “So I should call you Gwen?” You confirm.

“Exactly. No need to call me my lady. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that,”

~

You make it back to the lower town at an alarming rate, your elated mood adding a spring in your step and speed to your gait.

Beginning your descent down the main street, a flash of scarlet ahead catches your eye. Four of Camelot’s knights on horseback are heading your way at a leisurely trot. You scan their faces, three of which you do not recognise, but the fourth you realise is the knight you met a few days ago, Sir Gwaine. Since the knights are riding, they are soon at your position in the street, three of the four passing by. Sir Gwaine slows his horse and comes to a halt, dismounting. He leads the horse by its reins and comes your way, greeting you with a smile.

“You look very pleased,” He says, stopping a few feet from you. “How goes your quest for the queen?”

You break into a smile. “She offered me the position of royal clothier, and I accepted,”

“Congratulations,” He grins, his delight seeming genuine. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around, then?”

“Yes, I suppose you will. I will be living in the castle,”

“You’re moving up in the world,” He says, stroking his horse’s flank. “Anyway, I’d better get back. Duty calls. Until next time,” He gives a small wave and mounts his horse again.

[julia4today]

the return of arthur pendragon - angst?? PT. 1

this is basically purely backstory, i needed to get something outtt (merlin x arthur)

a/n: this is probably the longest thing I've ever written. +I wrote this on a computer so everything is capitalized n stuff. and i want to say that im really sorry this is delayed and also the first thing ive posted in like two months. that's really on me. additionally, i have a reader x hobie fic coming out soon.

if you have sent me a request I WILL get to it, some may require more research and brain power. announcments: i have an ao3 (i havent posted anything on it though) pendragonco

Most imagine the afterlife to be a wonderland full of radiant flora and a deity only decided by yourself. A place where you may live out the years you never got to experience. But you would be wrong.

The truth is far more complex. It is a realm where echoes of your past deeds and dreams intertwine with the fabric of eternity. Time flows differently, like a river winding through the core of memories and contrition, where every choice made in life reverberates on the very existence of the universe. There are no simple paradises or solitary deities here, but rather a tapestry of existence woven from the threads of every life that comes before and leads after yours.

However, to Arthur Pendragon, both definitions seem untrue. It almost taunts him with how easy they make being dead seem to a new generation of the dead and the living.

To King Arthur, the afterlife is a treacherous wasteland, where the dead seemed unnaturally content despite their recent quietus. All he could do was curse his demise and all the unfulfilled ambitions that haunted him. He wondered about his darling Guinevere, how she fared, now tasked with ruling Camelot in his stead. He thought of the fate bestowed upon Gaius, the man he had trusted implicitly, who now carried the weight of the living through Pendragon's legacy.

But above all, his thoughts always returned to Merlin. A man he had once known. A man he had once trusted. Arthur imagined Merlin. Perhaps Merlin was so grief-stricken he never used his power again? Maybe he avenged the death of his king. For all Arthur knows, Merlin himself could've died, he too could have been cursed to this desolate ether. 

In reality, the world broke. His world broke. The once and future king, the man destined to unite the land of Albion, through magic and none, is now dead. Merlin, day after day, ran his last moments over. Cursing himself for the way Arthur left this world. If he had just listened to Kilgaraah if he had heeded his advice. If he had disposed of Mordred the first time they had met, the King would stand before him long after. No war would have ensued, and Camelot would no longer be in strife with war.

The day his death was announced to the citizens was a dismal one. Clouds cast over the town square, and the whole of the city gathered to hear the words from the queen herself. Gwen and Merlin stand where Arthur had stood just weeks prior. Where Arthur had announced war, Gwen shall announce the outcome of such a thing. 

“My dearest citizens of Camelot,” Her voice wavers. “It is with a heavy heart that I make this declaration. Our beloved king, Arthur Pendragon, has fallen in battle. The king lives no more. His bravery and dedication to our kingdom will forever be remembered. Let us unite in mourning his loss and uphold his legacy with strength and resilience. May his soul find an eternal peace” A long silence befalls Camelot. The only noise was the occasional strangled sob. Coming from townsmen and nobles alike. The knights stood on only one knee. Taking their solemn oath to the King to heart.

In the months that followed the death of the King, Merlin withdrew into solitude, seeking solace in the quiet corners of Camelot and the vast expanses of the surrounding countryside. Memories of Arthur haunted him—laughter shared over campfires, battles fought side by side, and the unspoken bond of friendship that had defined their lives. He found himself replaying every moment, every decision, wondering if there had been a different path—one that could have spared Arthur's life.

In the privacy of his chambers, Merlin poured over ancient texts and scrolls, searching for clues, signs, anything that might point the way to Arthur's return. His magic, once hidden away in fear of persecution, now burned within him with a fierce intensity—a testament to the depth of his devotion and determination. He thought of his previous journey with Arthur, a trip in which Arthur came back fuming at Uther. A trip where they had met with Ygraine, Arthur's mother.

He wonders what spell Morgause had used to conjure the image. Whether or not the image was manipulated, didn't matter so much to Merlin. If he could only see Arthur one last time. One more day. If he could apologize for his secrecy, if he pledged his allegiance to the king, if he could promise to carry out whatever plan Arthur had for Camelot, he would be content. Merlin had believed that if he could just find the right spell, he could bring back the king. Even if only for a short period.

Deciding this was easy for Merlin. Evoking Arthurs image not so much.

----

OKAY, i promise i will get part two out soon. my hobie fic comes out on sunday so

@maumnuu - this is mainly for you :p

[fbfh]

you've heard plenty about the infamous Tedros of Camelot long before you met him. whispers around the school from girls in their dorms late at night sighing over his beautiful eyes and hair like spun gold, you heard the whispers of the way his muscles would flex during sword fighting, gleaming in the sunlight like it shone for him alone. you scoffed silently at these tales, sure no one could live up to such grandeur. you promised yourself if you ever run into him on campus that you'll judge him objectively, decide for yourself if the rumors and whispers of his striking beauty are true.

you don't expect the first time you meet him to be late at night, when everyone else is getting ready for bed or has already gone to sleep. you had forgotten to return a library book, and were sure as anything you'd forget if you didn't do it right then. you scurry through the halls and down the last flight of stairs, and drowsy from the late hour, you somehow manage to trip - over what, you're not sure; perhaps it's the fabric of your skirts that you weren't holding as high as usual. but before you can flail for the railing or try to catch yourself, before you can even scream, a pair of muscular arms grab you, holding you steady. as you catch your breath, you find yourself staring at a cornflower blue waistcoat stretched across a broad chest and shoulders, atop the familiar puffy white shirt of the boy's uniform.

"Are you alright?" the voice is soft, concerned and warm, but not patronizing, with a british lilt that makes everything sound so much nicer. you look up slowly, only for the breath to be pulled out of your lungs. backlit from the blue glow of the night sky shining through the large windows, he looks like a statue come to life. his eyes scan your face, looking at you, really looking at you in a way that makes you feel more alive than anything you can remember in quite some time.

"We've only just met, I hadn't expected you to fall for me quite so fast," he chuckles, his laugh sounding like churchbells echoing off the walls and marble collumns surrounding you. there's a teasing, playful tone to his voice, but no malice. he helps you up carefully, looking at you as you blink up at him in stunned silence. then you laugh. you let out a loud laugh of disbelief, raising your hands and letting them fall to your side, muffled by the fabric and many layers of your dress.

"Damn it all to hell..." you laugh, shaking your head and walking down the hall to your dorm. you laugh in disbelief that the rumors were not only true, but didn't even do him justice. they spoke of his beauty, but not of his chivalry, the warmth he eminates, the kindness in his eyes. when you finally have your head on straight again, you're sure you'll repremand yourself for acting so disgracefully in front of him, but for now, you still can't believe what just happened. Tedros can't either. he doesn't remember the last time a maiden didn't merely smile and bat their eyelashes up at him, the last time they did something surprising. but you... you're full of surprises. he watches you, fixated, as you retreat down the hall without a care in the world. he's sure he'll have to find you tomorrow. he'll say it's because you never thanked him for catching you, but it's really because he has to talk to you again. he wants so dearly to know what other surprises you have in store.

[magicalsniper]

The Legacy of Magic

5,853 words | Teen | Part 2 of 7 Author's AO3: MagicalSniper Story Link: The Legacy of Magic Part One Part Three Part Four

Summary: Balinor, summoned by Uther to negotiate with the Great Dragon Kilgharrah, witnesses the devastating aftermath of the Great Purge of Magic and is forced to escape Camelot, leaving behind a pregnant Hunith. Years later, his son Merlin, who struggles to conceal his magic, becomes fast friends with Prince Arthur. Their bond is tested when Arthur learns the truth about Merlin’s magic, but his loyalty to Merlin remains steadfast, though their relationship is marred by the weight of secrets and struggles for the safety of magic users in Camelot.

Chapter Two: The One Where Arthur and Merlin Become Friends

Hunith’s fingers trembled as she accepted the small woven basket filled with vibrant herbs from the errand boy. She hugged the basket to her chest to keep it from tumbling to the floor and closed the door firmly with her hip. The scent of rosemary and thyme enveloped her as she meandered through the Physician’s chambers and placed the basket haphazardly on the table beside the tinctures she had filled before the interruption. She began to fill the rest of the empty vials absentmindedly, accidentally overflowing one of them in her distraction.

“Careful with those tinctures, Hunith,” Gaius chided gently, noticing her distraction. “A single drop too much, and you’ll have the King dancing a jig rather than resting.”

“Maybe it’ll lighten the bastard up,” she muttered to her brother, moving the vials out of the way to clean up her mess. “Heaven knows we could all use the laugh.”

She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the small vial of wheat and barley she had prepared a week prior, unable to wait any longer to see the results. She had read in one of Gaius’s medical books that if a woman thought herself pregnant, she would urinate over the seeds of wheat and barley over several days. If it grows, the woman is likely with a child.

Her thoughts wandered to Balinor and the passionate night they had shared not two months prior as she brought the vial close to the candlelight. If she were indeed pregnant with his child, what would that mean for her future, given the danger of having a magical offspring in Camelot?

“It’s a boy,” Gaius said softly, coming up behind her to look at the vial where the seedlings were leaning towards the candlelight. 

She glanced down at the vial; indeed, the barley seeds had sprouted.

“And it’s… Balinor’s child?” Gaius asked in a light tone. 

Hunith threw Gaius a nasty look over her shoulder, causing him to cover the teasing smile that crossed his face. It was no secret that she had been good friends with Uther and Balinor since childhood. There was no shortage of rumors among the castle and lower village that she had been warming the King’s bed since the death of Ygraine. Unfounded, of course, but that didn’t stop Gaius from teasing her about it every now and then. 

His face took on a more serious expression. “Some might say…” Gaius paused, weighing his words, “... that ending this pregnancy might be safer for all involved.” 

Hunith’s hands found the hem of her dress, twisting the fabric as she pondered his words. “Safer, perhaps,” she shrugged and sighed heavily. “But I cannot. This child is more than just Balinor’s. If Balinor has no more children, this child is the last hope for the Dragonlords— I cannot allow that to be extinguished.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” Gaius said with a nod and a warm smile. “We shall keep this secret safe for as long as possible.”

~o0o~

By the sixth month of her pregnancy, Hunith was glowing with the promise of new life— a new life already proving to be as mischievous as magical. Not an hour passed without vials toppling over unexpectedly, books fluttering like birds taking flight around the chambers, and quills dancing across tables in a bizarre waltz.

“Merlin, stop that!” Hunith scolded, despite knowing that her words would fall on deaf ears. “He’s not even born yet and is driving me crazy!” she muttered, slamming her hand down onto the book she had been reading as it tried to fly away.

"Perhaps it's best if you remain out of sight for the time being," Gaius suggested, righting a floating tome with a sigh.

“Lovely.” 

~o0o~

Yet, even the best-laid plans of mice and men— or, in this case, physicians and their assistants, go awry. There was a grand tournament during the Spring equinox where all of Camelot had gathered. Hunith had become stir-crazy, now eight months pregnant, and had, against her better judgment, allowed herself to venture into the stands to watch the tournament, her presence masked by the throngs of spectators. Or so she had thought.

She was dressed in a loose dress that disguised her baby bump, never being more grateful that she didn’t show as much as many others did that late in their pregnancy. She would have been fine, with no one the wiser, had Uther, sitting in the middle of the stands, not caught her eye as she made her way towards Gaius, who was a few rows behind him. 

Uther had raised an eyebrow at her and motioned with his head that she should sit beside him and young Arthur, who was kneeling on his own seat, blue eyes wide with wonder as he watched the jousting tournament. 

She merely gave him a tight smile and shook her head. He likely thought she was trying to deny the request to keep the rumours at bay because Uther merely rolled his eyes and motioned with his head again, causing her to sigh heavily and approach him. 

“Morning, Sire,” she said ‘sire’ in the most sarcastic tone she could muster, causing Uther to roll his eyes again and scoff at her. “And Arthur, how are you doing?” She cooed, reaching over to smooth his hair from his eyes. 

Arthur, then three, grinned up at her, his two front teeth missing due to him falling from one of the castle statues earlier in the week. “Aunt Hunith! Are you sitting with us!? Did you see what the Black Knight did just now? It was so cool!” He reached over and hugged her waist, his face nuzzling her belly. Arthur pulled away and frowned at her belly, “Did you get fat?”

“Arthur!” she scolded, firmly pushing on his shoulders and glaring down at him. “There are two things you never ask a lady— her age or if she gained weight.”

Arthur pouted, “I’m sorry, Aunt Hunith.” 

She sighed heavily and leaned down to kiss his forehead, pulling him into a hug. “I forgive you.”

Uther watched the exchange with a small smile, frowned at her, and scanned her body until his eyes rested on her stomach. He licked his lips and looked nervously at her, “Are you?”

“Would I be pregnant and not tell one of my oldest friends?” She asked him softly. 

He gave her a sad look. It wouldn’t have even been a question eight months ago, but he could tell she’d been pulling away since Balinor’s disappearance. “I’d protect you if… if you were, as long as it wasn’t…” Balinor’s, it went without saying. Uther had no tolerance for magic, even from his oldest friends, not since Ygraine had passed.

“Would you have me killed if it were, Uther?” Hunith challenged, pressing the side of Arthur’s face into her hip and covering the other side of his face with her hand so that he wouldn’t hear their conversation. He hardly noticed, as entranced as he was with the knights below. “Have Arthur watch his aunt die right before his very eyes?”

Uther’s lips tightened into a straight line, and he could not meet her eyes. “I… I…”

“I’m not pregnant, Uther,” she lied after a minute of watching him trying to come up with a response, her hand stroking the side of Arthur’s face as she let go of him. “No need to go light the pyre.”

“Good, good, good… good,” Uther cleared his throat and patted the bench beside him. “Join me, please? I’ve missed you.”

“Careful, Uther,” Hunith said dryly. “You don’t want everyone to start thinking you have feelings.” 

He huffed out a laugh and gently pulled her into the seat that Arthur had vacated, “You’re ridiculous.”

They sat in companionable silence, cheering in all the right places, making idle chatter between rounds, pulling Arthur down from the rails when he became so into the tournament he almost fell off it. It almost felt as it had when they were kids and would watch the tournaments together. 

Unfortunately, it became too similar to the tournaments they used to attend as kids—the ones where Balinor would enchant the knights to do things when they grew bored.

One minute, they were watching a run-of-the-mill round; nothing seemed out of the ordinary until a knight began to charge valiantly across the field with his lance poised. He'd been suddenly flung off his horse and landed, not with a noble crash but with a tumble that turned into an inexplicable, hand-standing dance across the field.

Hunith froze, having felt the invisible burst of magic that rippled through the air. He looked over to Uther, hoping that he hadn’t felt it as well. Time seemed to stand still as gasps and cheers erupted from the crowd, the spectacle turning heads and raising brows, but it seemed as if no one else thought it was due to magic or felt the pulse. 

Her heart raced, her cheeks reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and fear. She swallowed heavily, ice water in her veins, and laughed a bit hysterically. “R-remarkable balance, that one.”

Uther studied her with narrowed eyes, causing her to fear that he had felt where the magic had come from before his face smoothed, and he turned back to the arena, where the knight had since been released from the spell and was brushing himself off. “Indeed.”

Hunith leaned back in her seat and took a deep breath, her heart pounding as she realised how close she had been to being discovered. She looked down at her stomach with a frown. She was going to have her work cut out for her.

~o0o~

In the backroom of Gaius’ chambers, a young Merlin pressed his nose against the cool glass pane, eyes wide as he observed the bustling castle life below. He took particular interest in the junior knights who were running back and forth from the armoury to the training grounds. He couldn’t help the impish grin that overcame him before he wiggled his fingers in a silent incantation that sent swords and shields flying from the alarmed teen’s hands. He cackled as they ran around like chickens without their heads, trying to catch the weapons that continuously danced out of their reach. 

He watched as the laundress and her assistant carried a load of royal laundry towards the fields to hang and sent it flying across the fields, the sheets moving as if they were playful ghosts, chasing the two women across the grounds. 

He caught sight of an abandoned bucket of water and poured it over the heads of suspecting royals as they toured the grounds. He ducked out of sight when King Uther turned towards the Physician’s chambers, bemusement on his face as the servants rushed towards a screaming Princess Eleanor.

Gaius stuck his head into the room and raised an eyebrow at him after a deafening screech of hers regarding the state of her hair. “Merlin,” the man chided, exasperation clear in his tone. “You don’t seem to be doing your studies.”

“Not my reading and writing, but I am practicing magic!” Merlin’s playful grin fell slightly, and he sighed, “Yes, Uncle.” His voice lacked any remorse, the twinkle in his eyes betraying him. “I’m just so bored. Why couldn’t I go collect herbs with Mommy?”

“What happened the last time you collected herbs with Hunith?” Gaius asked.

Merlin muttered under his breath and kicked at the floor.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I enchanted King Uther to fall and trip into the fountain,” Merlin looked up, his eyes flashing. “But he was being so mean to his poor manservant!” 

“Why don’t you come help me make some tinctures?” Gaius suggested, “And then we can practice a couple of spells from your spell book.” 

Merlin gasped in excitement and raced down the steps into the main chambers, “Come on, Uncle!”

“This child will be the death of me…” Gaius muttered, following his nephew’s excited calls.

~o0o~

At times, the call to leave the chambers was too strong, and Merlin would escape when his mother and Gaius were distracted. Usually, Merlin would find himself in the stables, feeding and brushing the horses for the stablehands. 

Other times, he would sit on the hill a little away from the training grounds and watch Prince Arthur practise his swordplay with his wooden sword and shield. He moved with grace and power, commanding attention even with his small stature. Merlin’s fingers would twitch; he longed to join in on the laughter of the Prince and his friend Leon, to be a part of something grander than whispered spells and shadows. Or, maybe he just really wanted to mess with the Prince. He really wasn’t sure.

Then, there were times when Merlin would be chasing Gwen across the castle grounds, and he would look up to see Arthur perched on the Library sill, his golden head bowed over a tome. Arthur would raise his head, and for a breathless moment, their worlds would touch— but all too soon, Arthur’s attention was drawn back to his studies, and Merlin would often be tackled to the grass by Gwen. The moment tended to be quickly forgotten and replaced with pleas and squeals of laughter as she would mercilessly tickle him until tears formed in his eyes.

~o0o~

It was the morning of Hunith’s birthday, during Merlin’s seventh summer, and Merlin was determined to get her a present. Early that morning, he had slipped out of the Physician’s quarters when his mother and Gaius were distracted by two knights who had caught fever and a rash the evening before. 

It had taken him a while to get to the market, and he took the long way so that Gaius wouldn’t see him out the window, but it had all been worth it. The market was a kaleidoscope of colours and smells, with vendors hawking wares from stalls draped with the brightest of cloths. 

He moved purposefully, ducking between patrons as he searched for the perfect gift. He had been close to giving up when his eye caught sight of a wooden figurine. It seemed to glow a subtle gold as he approached, and he couldn’t help but be entranced by it. The figure was that of a dragon standing on its hind legs with its wings unfurled. 

It was perfect.

His mother loved telling him tales of dragons and the brave Dragonlords who tamed them. He dug out all the money in his pockets and counted it out, frowning when the man told him he was one silver coin short. 

“M’sorry, Lad,” the man said softly as Merlin pulled his hands back and shoved the coins back in his pocket.

“Thank you,” Merlin muttered as he turned away from the man, tears gathering in his eyes. He began to walk away when a strong hand closed over his shoulder. 

Merlin froze and turned slowly. His eyes traveled up the tall man’s body until he got to his face. Upon recognition, he flinched back. He would have fallen if one of the knights behind him hadn’t caught him. “K-King Uther!” He gave a clumsy bow and kept his eyes trained on the ground, freezing under the man’s scrutiny. He knew he was in big trouble. 

The one major rule his mother and Gaius had was that he was never to be seen by Uther. “Erm, erm…” he bowed again, for lack of knowing what else to do. “Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to get in your way.”

“You weren’t in my way,” Uther said, kneeling down to his height. Merlin fidgeted as Uther studied his face, sharp eyes focusing on his eyes, nose, and lips before flickering to his eyes. His lips tightened into a straight line before he asked, “You were looking at that dragon figurine?”

Merlin’s eyes widened, and looked back at the stall before turning back to the King, “Y-yes, sir. I wasn’t trying to steal it, I swear! I just wanted to get my mommy a gift for her birthday today, but I was one coin short.” Tears welled in his eyes again, and his hands shook as he tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. 

Unable to look Uther in the eye, he looked over the man’s shoulder and gulped audibly when he spotted the pyre that had been used to execute a young woman accused of magic not a day earlier. He clenched his shaking fists to keep his magic at bay and forced his eyes back to the ground.

Uther frowned thoughtfully at him and looked over to the stall with the figurine before he stood, ordering Merlin to stay where he was. Merlin kept his eyes trained on the ground, wondering what punishment he would get for getting in the King’s way when the dragon figurine slid into his blurry peripheral view. 

He sniffed and rubbed his eyes before looking up at the King in disbelief. He took the dragon gently in his hands, his eyebrows knitted tightly together. “I… I,” he placed the dragon under one arm and dug into his pocket for his money, handing it over to Uther. “I can work for the rest,” he said quickly, his cheeks burning red with embarrassment.

Uther gently took Merlin’s hand and pressed the coins back into it, giving his hand a slight squeeze.  “Tell Hunith that I wish her a very Happy Birthday.”

Merlin’s teary eyes, if possible, widened further, “I-I, yes, Sir.” He shoved the coins back into his pocket and hugged the dragon to his chest, bowing deeply. Only when he was walking away did he think he should have asked how Uther knew it was a present for Hunith.

His heart beat wildly in his chest as he tried to put as much space between him and the King as possible. He weaved through the bustling market with the dragon clenched tightly in his hands. Merlin had to get home before he ran into anyone else he wasn’t supposed to.

In his haste, Merlin didn’t notice the figure emerging from a tent to his right until they collided. The impact sent him sprawling on the ground, the figure skidding away from his outstretched hand. 

“Watch where you are going, you idiot!” The voice, despite being young, was sharp and authoritative. 

Merlin groaned and looked up to see none other than Prince Arthur glaring down at him from under his blonde fringe. He scrambled to his feet and brushed dirt from his green tunic. “Sorry,” he muttered distractedly as he searched for the figurine. “I didn’t see you.”

“Clearly,” Arthur stood tall, even at the tender age of nine. He was the very image of princely disdain, his blue eyes cold as he looked down at Merlin. “You should pay more attention. You could have damaged my armor.”

Merlin snorted. The ‘armor’ was a simple child’s chainmail, something even Merlin could afford to buy from any toy stall. “A real tragedy that would be.” His eyes brightened as he spotted the figurine and went to pick it up, examining it for any damage.

Arthur’s eyebrows rose, “Do you always talk back to your betters?”

Merlin looked around, feigning confusion, “I don’t see any of my betters here.” He couldn’t help himself. The Prince was rubbing him the wrong way.

“You insolent—” Arthur began but stopped abruptly, his gaze narrowing on Merlin. “I know you. You’re that boy Gaius is always yelling at, the one that skulks around the grounds.”

“Skulks?” Merlin huffed. “I prefer ‘strategically positioning myself,’ thank you very much.”

“More like strategically causing trouble,” Arthur countered. “Are you the one behind those weird things happening?”

Merlin froze, his hands squeezing the dragon tightly in his hands. “Of course not,” he lied. “Magic is bad,” he said the practiced words with conviction.

Arthur rolled his eyes as if he’d heard that a million times before, which was a high possibility, given who his father was. “Just stay out of my way if you know what’s best for you.”

“Right, wouldn’t want to interrupt your quest for the perfect hair,” Merlin said dryly, rolling his eyes as Arthur caught sight of himself in a puddle and was fixing his hair in his reflection. 

Arthur’s eyes shot up to his, and his jaw tightened. “You’re impossible.”

“I can’t be impossible. I exist,” Merlin shot back with a grin.

“I am the Prince of Camelot. You will show me some respect!” Arthur's voice was sharp, his fists clenching at his sides.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Respect? Is that what they call it when you demand people bow down to your royal highness?”

Arthur stepped closer until his nose was practically pressed against Merlin’s. “You would be wise to watch your mouth.”

“Or what? You will have Daddy throw me in the stocks?” Merlin shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind. It faces the flowers, and they’re so pretty.” 

Arthur opened his mouth to retort but then paused, studying Merlin. A flicker of something else crossed his features for a moment—was it amusement? “You’re… so weird.” 

“Arthur!”

“Goodbye, Prince Arthur.” He scurried out of the way as Arthur grabbed him, cackling as he went. 

Once he was a safe distance away, he stopped beside a house and looked behind him. He watched as Arthur walked towards his father, and he, too, stopped to turn back.

~o0o~

 Merlin’s footsteps echoed against the stone floors of the Library as he moved through the towering shelves, searing for the book Gaius had sent him to find. The air was thick with the scene of parchment, ink, and leather, and dust particles danced in front of his eyes in the morning's rising sun. 

“Stupid text…”

Merlin stopped at the corner of an aisle and peered around the corner. Prince Arthur was hunched over a hefty tome, muttering to himself. His brow was furrowed in concentration while his lips moved, his finger tracing the words he struggled to read.

He ignored him and continued to the next row, where the medical texts were. He looked for the red leather-bound book with a frown. When he noticed it wasn’t on the bottom four shelves, he began to scan the upper levels of the shelves. And there, about a meter and a half above his head, was the book that he needed. “Of course,” he muttered and looked around. 

There were several scribes sitting at a table in eye line, and he knew Arthur was by the shelves in front of the one he stood at. Then there was Geoffery, who tended to wander through the Library without rhyme or reason. He’d have to do it the old-fashioned way. 

He grimaced as he gripped the dusty shelf above his head and pulled himself up, his fingers slipping on the thick grime coating it. He tried again, this time knocking several books off the shelf and falling onto the floor. 

“SHH!”

He glowered at the scribe glaring at him and jumped to his feet, wiping his sweaty, dirty hands on his breeches. He took a deep breath and tried again but struggled to get a solid foothold on the cluttered shelves, his feet continuing to slip on the accumulated dust and items. 

“What are you doing?”

Merlin gasped as he lost his balance one shelf away from the book he needed; he closed his eyes as he made contact with the person below him, sending both of them falling to the floor with a loud crashing sound, throwing up a cloud of dust which was sucked deep into their lungs, causing the both of them to cough and sputter. 

“Get off me!” Arthur growled, shoving Merlin off him. He coughed some more as he stepped up and brushed himself off. “What do you think you were doing up there!?”

Merlin winced and held his arm to his chest as he struggled to his feet. “I was getting a book for Gaius.” He tried to straighten his arm and grimaced, causing Arthur’s eyes to widen.

“Did you break your arm?”

“Probably just sprained it. I’d be crying if it was broken,” Merlin admitted as he took the long red scarf off his neck and twisted it into a makeshift arm sling like he had seen Gaius and his mother do many times before. 

Arthur scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “That is what you get for being an idiot. There’s a ladder on the other side that you could have used.” He raised an eyebrow at Merlin before disappearing and reappearing with the sliding ladder, waving his hand at it. “See?”

Merlin scowled and watched as the Prince slid it over to where he needed it, “Yeah, I see it.” He gripped onto the side and hoisted himself up, shaking slightly from his tentative hold on the ladder. “... Thanks.”

“Oh, my god,” Arthur muttered, pulling Merlin down to take his place. “What book do you need?”

“I don’t need your help,” Merlin said stubbornly.

“I have to get back to my studies, and if we keep it up, Geoffery will throw us both out. Now, which book is it?” 

Merlin sighed heavily, “The red leather one, up there.” 

Arthur quickly fetched the book and handed it to him, glancing curiously at the title. “C-ca-nons Lie bra Med ci nae.” he scowled as he stumbled over the words, “Here, take the stupid thing. I have work to do.” 

“Canonis Liber Medicinae,” Merlin corrected smoothly, accepting the book in his uninjured hand. “It means the ‘Canon of Medicine’.”

Arthur was already walking away, “I don’t care.” 

Merlin, unable to help himself, followed Arthur back to his table. “Can you not read? How is that possible? You’re a prince! I’ve been reading for two years already, and you’re three years older than me!”

“S-shut up!” Arthur’s face burned red with embarrassment. “I have much more important things to do than sit on my butt all day and learn to read and write, unlike some people.”

“Yeah, because that's exactly what we all want in a future king—an illiterate,” Merlin said dryly, waving the book in his hand. “Thanks, I guess.” He glanced at the book on Arthur’s table and recognized the story Arthur was working on. “That’s a good story. I’ve read it loads of times.”

Arthur growled and picked up his quill, hurling it at a cackling Merlin as he fled from him.

“Idiot,” Arthur muttered, sinking back into his chair and resting his head on his folded arms.

~o0o~

A week later, Merlin was back in the Library, not because of an errand for Gaius, but to spy on Arthur. He was standing an aisle away, pretending to examine the spine of a book while he listened to Arthur’s muffled sounds of frustration. 

He sighed heavily and put the book back on the shelf, shaking his head. He felt terrible for the other boy; from the sounds of it, he was still on the story he had been reading the previous week. 

Merlin slid into the chair across from Arthur, kneeling to see across the table. “Do you need help?” He asked, cocking his head to the side to better see Arthur’s face.

“Go away,” Arthur snapped without looking up, his voice laced with embarrassment. “I don’t need help from a peasant.”

“Okay,” Merlin shrugged and jumped off the chair. He returned to where he knew there were several copies of Aesop’s Fables and pulled one from the shelf, flipping through its pages. “A Lion lay asleep in the forest, his great head resting on his paws. “ Merlin paused as he listened to the muffled sounds of stifled vexation that continued from Arthur. “A timid little Mouse came upon him unexpectedly, and in her fright and haste to get away, ran across—”

Realizing that Arthur would not ask him for help, Merlin sighed and returned the book before flopping onto the chair beside Arthur.

“Look,” Merlin said, pulling the book toward him with a gentle tug. “It’s really not that hard once you get the hang of it.” He pointed at the first two words, enunciating them slowly and clearly. “The Gnat. See? You start with the letters and sound them out.”

Arthur eyed him with a mixture of suspicion and curiosity. He sat silently glaring at Merlin for what felt like minutes, his shoulders tense as he stared down the other boy. However, Merlin merely smiled softly at him, and Arthur soon relaxed. “But Gnat sounds like Nat, not g-nat like it’s spelt!” 

“It can be confusing at times. Our language comes from a mix of different ones, so the rules sometimes don’t make much sense…” Merlin scrunched his nose, “At least, that is what Mommy says.”

Arthur sighed before looking over his shoulder and leaning in close to Merlin. “Fine, you can help me,” he conceded, his voice barely above a whisper. “But if you were to tell anyone about this…”

“Who would I tell?” Merlin said with a giggle. “Who would believe me if I said that Prince Arthur couldn’t read and needed my help to teach him?”

For the first time, a hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Arthur’s mouth, and the tension between them began to lessen. Together, they bent over the book, and under Merlin’s subtle guidance, Arthur began to stumble less and less with each new sentence. 

And if Merlin had forgotten that he had snuck out and needed to be back before Gaius and his mother had returned from the lower town and was subsequently grounded from leaving the Physician’s chambers for the next week, well, it was worth it. 

~o0o~

The following weeks found Arthur and Merlin huddled in a corner of the Library. Heads pressed together as they poured over Arthur’s study books. Merlin had also taken to the habit of bringing his own study books to get some of his work done. If one were to listen in, one would hear the sound of hushed voices and the occasional giggle as Merlin walked Arthur through the finger points of literacy. 

“Try again; go slower,” Merlin encouraged, leaning on his elbows, half his body on the table, as he looked at the book Arthur was reading from. 

“Knight… hood,” Arthur pronounced carefully, and with a triumphant lift of his chin, he looked to Merlin for approval.

“Put it together, knighthood,” Merlin corrected gently, his eyes shining brightly as he looked at the other boy. “You’re getting better! Soon, you’ll be able to read all the stories people will write about your adventures!”

Arthur grunted, a small smile on his face. “I guess I have you to thank.”

“You thanking a commoner?” Merlin quipped, his smile turning into a full-on grin.

“You’re right. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Arthur retorted, but the warmth in his voice belayed his words.

Their tutoring sessions became an unspoken routine, but they didn’t confine themselves to the dim candlelit library. Outside, under the vast blue sky, their friendship continued to flourish. 

After they would study in the Library, Merlin would follow Arthur to the training grounds. He would watch, eyes wide with wonder, as Arthur and the other junior knights went through their rounds. He’d cheer when Arthur would get the better of his opponent and run over to him in worry when he didn’t, although he wasn’t above playful ribbing when the occasion called for it. At the end of Arthur’s drills, Merlin would be there with a giant smile and water for the sweat-soaked prince. They would sit together and watch as the older knights trained, their laughter mingling with the metallic armor ring as the knights practiced.

“Could you imagine me in all of that?” Merlin asked one day, gesturing to the knights. “I’d probably fall over from just trying to lift the sword.”

Arthur snorted, “You’d fall over from just the chainmail. If you had a sword, you’d probably wind up skewering yourself.”

“Ha-ha, you’re so funny,” Merlin replied with a roll of his large eyes. But he frowned, his gaze lingering on the knights. He might not be able to be a knight, but he did wish he could learn a way to protect everyone without the danger of exposing his magic. A wistful expression crossed his face before he shook it away.

When the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the castle grounds, Arthur and Merlin found themselves playing hide and seek among the hedges and statues. Merlin would cheat, using his magic to rustle the bushes or create a whisper of wind, consistently leading Arthur in the wrong direction. 

“Got you!” Arthur shouted triumphantly when he finally discovered Merlin, jumping on the boy’s back and wrestling him to the floor. 

Merlin elbowed him off and jumped back onto his feet, “Maybe next time you’ll be able to find me before my sneeze gives me away.” 

“I was buying you time,” Arthur said with a huff and the crossing of his arms over his chest. “Next time, I won’t go so easy on you!”

“If you say so, sire,” Merlin said mockingly before squealing and dodging Arthur’s grabbing hands. “Come on, one more round. I’ll even let you prove how ‘easy’ you were going on me.” 

Merlin's laughter filled the garden, a sound as bright and mischievous as the twinkling stars beginning to emerge in the deepening blue of the evening sky. He darted behind a grand statue of Camelot's founder, his breaths quick and light, his heart pounding with the exhilaration of innocent play and newfound friendship.

“Come on, Merlin! I know you are using your tricks again!” Arthur’s voice carried an edge of feigned annoyance, but the laughter in his voice was unmistakable. 

“Tricks? Me?” Merlin called back, peeking out from behind the marble statue. “I’m just being resourceful.”

“Resourceful,” Arthur repeated dryly, although his lips curled into a reluctant smile. “I will figure out what you are doing.”

“Good luck with that,” Merlin muttered, a silent incantation slipping past his lips, causing a nearby shrub to rustle. 

"Ha! There you are!" With a triumphant shout, Arthur lunged towards the sound, only to find his hands grasping at empty air while Merlin slipped away once more, chuckling at the prince's expense.

They ended their game as the dinner bell rang through the castle, both breathless and flushed from laughter as they slowly made their way up the castle steps. 

“Another win for me, then?” Merlin quipped, a playful gleam in his eyes.

“Only because you are as slippery as an eel,” Arthur said with a scoff. “Seriously, Merlin. I will find out you one day.”

“Maybe,” Merlin conceded, his gaze turning toward the horizon where the fields of barley and rye swayed in the breeze. 

“Definitely. You’re too much of an idiot to keep it secret for much longer, whatever it is.” Arthur grabbed Merlin around the neck and pressed his knuckles to his head, making the younger boy squeal. As they ran through the corridors, their shared laughter echoed off the ancient stones, a harbinger of the adventures yet to come.

Part Three

[justaz]

merlin and will growing up together in ealdor and dreaming of leaving their little village and taking albion by storm, rewriting the very fabric of society for people like them: orphans, magic users - the outcasts. taking on escetir first and liberating the enslaved magic users in cenred’s army and his castle and then banding together to take on the rest of the kingdoms. they defend those in danger and gather more and more people like them, those that society ignores or looks down on, and becoming this notorious group that travels from land to land. obviously they pick up lancelot and gwaine at some point. uther knows of the magic used in their group and sends arthur and his knights out to kill them but they’re powerful and arthur and his men barely land a hit

idk whats happening actually. my initial though was will and merlin going to war with cenred and conquering escetir and freeing magic in their kingdom. other kingdoms go to war with escetir but magic users flock to the kingdom with legal magic and they are unstoppable and idk swallow other kingdoms. uther goes mad and arthur takes the throne and swallows other kingdoms that merlin and will haven’t eaten and so now albion is just camelot and escetir. marriage alliance and now all of albion is camelot and merthur are married. will and gwaine are judging him but he’s in love so lancelot is defending him.

[gdn019283]

I just thought about Arthur, Gwen, Morgana and Merlin going to fight, but dressing good for it (each one of them with their assigned weapon)

This could be set in whatever AU/Canon AU you’d like, where everything is good and these four fight together to unite the lands of Albion (basically my happy version of BBC Merlin).

See my vision.

They all wear long cloaks, with hoods that cover their faces and hair, including the clothes they wear under. The sleeves of their tunics are long, sort of under shirts made of linen, comfortable and flexible, no armour, to be worn under the cloaks, cut open at different points based on the weapons they use. Magic half protects them from the cold and the blows they take, blanketing them and securing them from their enemies. Their boots stretch until the knee and are striped, the trousers large and comfortable.

Each one of them has a colour assigned:

Morgana: white. It accentuates her dark hair, her appearance, that could seem innocent, but is actually fatal; three golden straight stripes descend over the front length of her cloak; the sleeves are round and half cut at the wrists; her boots are black; she wears a belt under the cloak where she can hide her weapon and pick it up easily; her gloves are black like her boots, wrist length, made of leather, simple; she still wears jewellery and a chain of metal around her forehead, with a white pearl in the middle of it, her black hair wavy and falling around and behind her shoulders, when she has council meetings, and tied up and in a braid when she needs to fight; she wears rings and bracelets. They decorate her fingers and wrists, two golden bracelet over her biceps, a long pendant made of a chain around her neck, that ends with a tiny, transparent vial where she keeps her favourite dried flower, round, five petals and of the same white colour of her cloak, the gift made to her by Gwen (I believe the flower is called, Oxalis incarnata).

Gwen: dark violet/light violet/pastel pink. I believe they’re her colours. Gwen is kind, and honest. Everything that she has ever made for herself and wore accentuated her character and personality as well, and the colour took a big part in it. It’s soft, and it resembles everything Gwen has ever been. Fierce, but vulnerable. A good leader. She has always ever been these two colours, and she wore purple the day she was crowned queen. Her cloak has drawings that she herself sewed into the fabric, of flowers and flying birds, intersecting one with the other, of a a white colour and with golden stripes painted on their wings and branches, resembling the one on Morgana’s cloak; her cloak and tunics are of a similar cut to the others, except that the sleeves are shorter and the leather gloves are longer, reaching her elbows, comfortable for her weapon, and of a deep brown colour, the same of her boots; her weapon is wrapped around her chest and draped behind her shoulders; she wears no jewellery; she keeps her hair short and curly, tied in a small bun behind the nape of her neck, two small strands cascading over her forehead.

Merlin: dark blue/light blue. These colours are his. A symbol, the same as his eyes, since he has always wore them as a shirt, that matches the colours of the tunic and the cloak over his body, cut at the shoulders, his shirt unlaced at the chest and ending on both arms with a bishop sleeve; his gloves are gauntlets and made of leather, the same colour of his boots, blue, but a lighter/darker tone than the one of his own cloak; his raven hair is longer, wavy, and ends at the juncture of his neck, untied; he wears a beard long enough to cover chin and cheeks; he needs space and air to use his weapon, long and sometimes difficult to manoeuvre, so his cloak is cut from the start of his thighs to his ankles; the fabric also has a golden circle sewed on the chest and the middle area, a line travelling and curving around its circumference.

Arthur: red, or what us fans usually describe as Camelot red. It suits him and it accentuates his hair. He has the golden Camelot dragon sewed at the centre of his cloak, a size big enough to be able to fit inside Merlin’s circle; he’s covered completely, has two holes just for his forearms, and a brown belt for his weapon over the cloak; his gloves are also gauntlets and of a golden colour; his boots are brown just like Gwen’s, meaning two things: Arthur belongs both to the Once and Future Queen of Camelot, and to his Court Sorcerer.

~

Their weapons:

Morgana: magic and knives. She has always loved them, always used them, and they’re easy to fight with, quick, the magic assuring her the perfect balance the moment she loses it, aiming a blow in the rare case she misses. She likes them, and they remind her of the gift Arthur had made to her during her birthday. The knives are decorated with pearls too, and they shine altogether whenever Gwen picks them up (Gwen creates the knives Morgana fights with without telling her).

Gwen: bow. She is agile, short, and quick. She has always run left and right to assist everyone in need, bringing and handling stuff in her hands, so she can manage a bow perfectly, shooting and fighting from afar. Arthur thought her how to use it, or maybe she learnt it by herself (or with Morgana). She makes her own arrows, that change based on what she needs to do or on her target. The bow has deep carvings in it on both the upper and lower limb, and the initials of her name. She made them herself, similar to the one on her clothes. The string of the bow can be heard only by Morgana every time Gwen shoots (Morgana secretly carved her initials too on the face of the bow, thinking Gwen hasn’t noticed).

Merlin: magic and a staff. His powers makes it float and appear on command, it channels his magic better, which could be destructive if managed alone. It glows and vibrates whenever Arthur passes by (Merlin blushes every time it happens).

Arthur: Excalibur. It represents the Kingdom, it’s the sword of the Once and Future King. It has the desired balance, has just the right hint of magic in it and the writing on the blade pulses a golden colour every time the weapon is in near proximity with Merlin. The sword reminds Arthur of him, and it’s never out of his sight (Arthur denies it each time his sword brightens up, cursing Merlin as he does so).

[stressed-and-queer]

Story prompt idea

Merlin is often used as a decoy/impersonate Arthur yet Arthur just really likes Merlin wearing his clothes and this is the most effective way to do it as he is too embarrassed/prideful to ask normally

OMFG I LOVE THIS!! It's kinda like that scene where Merlin dresses up as a knight in S4E5 "His father's Son". I loved that scene so much!

"Why am I always the decoy?" Merlin asks as he puts on the maroon shirt Arthur handed him. The fabric was much softer than he was used to, the shirt a bit bigger than his own. The sleeves were baggy and long, just barely reaching his fingertips. The part in the collar reached much lower on Merlin than it did on Arthur. Even when the shirt was tied it was still loose on him. However, when paired with the brown coat Arthur wore on their hunting trips, the shirt could almost look like it fit Merlin.

Arthur had gotten reports of Bandits terrorizing the road to Asper, a city near Camelot's border, known for it's marketplace. It was a well course of income for Camelot, one that was declining due to these bandit attacks. So, Arthur set up a plan. Have a decoy travel on the road and wait for it to be ambushed. Then, him and his knights would attack. Naturally, when Sir Leon asked who the decoy was going to be, Arthur had nominated Merlin, under the excuse that Merlin would know how to act as Arthur, having been his manservant.

The truth; this was the perfect opportunity to get Merlin to wear his clothes.

Arthur loves it when he get's to see Merlin wearing his clothes. He get's to admire the way his shirts hang off of Merlin, or the way some of the collars of his shirts are obviously too loose and hang off to the side. He gets to admire Merlin in clothes that were, quite literally, made for a king.

Of course, he would never admit this to anyone, especially not Merlin. Especially not when his pride was on the line. Especially not when, the moments he takes to ponder just why he likes to see Merlin wearing his clothes, his cheeks get red and his whole body heats up as a sense of embarrassment takes over him. And the thought of asking Merlin to wear his clothes was out of the question entirely.

No, Arthur would never let another living soul know the real reason he always used Merlin as the decoy.

"Because Merlin, I can't exactly help my knights if I'm the one being held by swordpoint by these bandits, now can I," Arthur answers Merlin's question with feigned annoyance. Merlin rolls his eyes, fixing the way Arthur's belt hung on him, the added weight of a sword that Merlin wasn't used to weighing it down.

"Now turn around, we have to make sure the outfit is convincing," Arthur says. Merlin sighs out of annoyance but turns around, holding his arms out to the side. Arthur uses this as an excuse to let his eyes glide over Merlin's body. To allow himself a moment to admire the way Merlin looked in this outfit. Arthur had decided that this outfit on Merlin was one of his favorites. Maybe it was the way that red shirt clashed with his black hair, or maybe it was because that was an outfit Arthur wore a lot and he liked seeing it on Merlin. Whatever it was, Arthur savored the moment, not knowing when he'll be able to make up another excuse to get Merlin to wear his clothes.

"It'll do," Arthur says finally, to which Merlin rolls his eyes, pushing the sleeves up.

"It's a bit big isn't it," Merlin points out.

"Nonsense Merlin, you're just small," Arthur retorts. In all honesty, his clothes being big on Merlin was one of his favorite things. Merlin makes his own retort to which Arthur just ignores, returning his attention to Leon as the two discussed the plan once more. And if Arthur found himself distracted by Merlin as they traveled the road to Asper, well, nobody had to know.

[casinotrio1965]

Disney Descendants : How Artie Met Tulip

by me and @hannahhook7744

Summary: How Artie Pendragon met the daughter of Lampwick and Tiger Lily.

.....

It was early fall and Tulip and the Rest of the cheerleaders at Neverland Academy were heading to a cheerleading competition in Camelot Heights, which Tulip was not excited for..

Finally after what seemed like hours the bus finally stopped at Camelot Heights.

Tulip and the other cheerleaders all got off the bus one by one where They were greeted by the Merlin and two distracted looking boys, around twelve years old.

The blonde one of which, who gave his shorter friend a friendly shove, was the one to catch Tulip's eye. Not that he noticed her in favor of laughing with his friend.

“Visola! Lovely to see you and your cheerers again.” Merlin greeted.

“Lovely to see you too, Merlin, “ Visola grinned. “ Anyway I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving us a tour of Camelot Heights , Since The Cheer competition isn’t until tomorrow ?”

“It would be my pleasure. If you don't mind my son and his friend tagging along?”

“Not at all!” The Mermaid assured the wizard.

“Don't worry, Dragonet and Artie will be on their best behavior.”

......

About two hours into the tour, was when Tulip decided to make conversation with one of the Camelot boys.

“The Architecture sure is swell here isn’t it ?”

Artie—or at least, who Tulip thought was Artie, she wasn't quite sure—gave her a blank look. Scrunching up his nose in confusion as he looked at the buildings around them before whispering to his friend. “Are buildings supposed to swell?”

The smaller boy—a brunette—choked, hiding his head in his hands. “Artie, that is not what she meant.”

“I mean, it’s incredible how well built these castles are! And those tapestries hanging on the walls are so pretty!”

“Oh. Yeah, super swell.” Artie still looked a bit confused, but didn't ask any further questions. “Thank… you?”

“No problem. Name’s Tulip Rossi by the way! My mom is Tiger Lily—she’s the headmistress and Tourney Coach at Neverland Academy—and my Dad is Lampwick—He’s a Trophy husband.”

The blonde gave her an odd look at that last comment. “Uh… I'm Artie Pendragon.”

Making Tulip finally realize why the name seemed so familiar.

And his friend? His friend just cackled at the expressions on both of their faces.

“You’re related to King Arthur?! That’s so cool!” Tulip exclaimed. “What’s it like being related to a legend like that?”

Artie looked uncomfortable.“Uh…I don't know. He's my dad.”

Tulip Having realized that she made the young boy uncomfortable toned down her excitement.

“Oh… I'm sorry I didn't mean to overwhelm you. Sometimes I get carried away.”

“It's fine.” Artie shrugged. “We need to catch up to the group.”

“Ok then ..” Tulip pulled out her smartphone and quickly picked up the pace. Only to find out there was no service here.

“Are you freaking kidding me ?! What do you mean there’s no service here you dumb thing !”

....

Artie fiddled with the small pink thing that Tulip called a phone, peering at every angle with curiosity. Paying no mind to the fact that Dragonet was leaning over his shoulder to get a look at what he was doing.

Tulip Gave them both a baffled look.

“Wow guys, you’re really fascinated with my phone, aren’t you?”

She thought for a moment.

“Hey do you guys wanna see the clothing sketches saved here?”

Artie eagerly nodded. “I love sketches!”

“Great !” She opened up her phone and tapped on the gallery app to show a bunch of clothing designs, all Pink and Green. “There’s more designs in my sketchbook but I left that at home. Your thoughts?”

“Cooooooooool.”

“Hey Artie, you should get her to design your armor—”

“I LOVE TO! Though I never worked with metal before, only fabrics..”

“That's fine.” Artie assured her. “These look great.”

“Thanks Artie. You’re really sweet.” Tulip Smiled at the young boy.

And that my friends, was the start of a beautiful friendship… which later grew into something more.

The End

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 8

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,253

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 | Read Chapter 5 | Read Chapter 6

Read Chapter 7

Read on Ao3

You head to the market that morning, after preparation of a pitiful breakfast made you aware of your severe lack of ingredients.

You go to the baker’s first, purchasing a loaf of bread, before wandering down market street to see what fruit and vegetables are on offer. Stopping at a fruit merchant’s stand, you inspect the produce on display when you overhear a familiar voice.

“I believe I’ve seen him head toward her chambers a couple of times lately, but that’s all,” Erika says as she walks leisurely down the market street, arm-in-arm with a noblewoman. “He probably thinks she will be more inclined to lift her skirts in the state she’s in. You know, he was a dreadful flirt back home. The townsfolk hid their daughters from him,”

You do not hear Erika’s companion’s response as you turn your attention back to the merchant’s stand, realising the peach you’re holding is leaking juice through your fingers, which are clamped around the helpless fruit.

“My apologies,” You look up at the merchant standing behind the stall. “I will pay for it,”

You thoughtlessly select a few more peaches and finish your transaction quickly, before moving on to other stands to purchase the rest of your groceries, trying to control your emotions so you might get through this task without embarrassing yourself. Once all the ingredients are purchased and loaded into your basket, you walk back to the castle with a long and fast stride.

You cross the courtyard and head down the first corridor when you feel a hand on your shoulder, causing you to jump and spin around in alarm.

“Sorry,” Gwaine steps back, hands held out defensively. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’ve been trying to catch you lately, but I seem to keep missing you when I’ve come by your chambers,” His gaze falls to the basket in your hands. “Do you want me to carry that?”

He reaches forward to grab the handle, but you pull it behind you, out of his reach.

“No, thank you. I must be off. I have much to do today,”

You turn around and continue on your way, leaving the knight behind.

Back at your chambers, you place the basket down and sit at the table, chin resting on your fist.

Gwaine had been a smooth-talker from the beginning. While you did think him a flirt upon your first acquaintance, over time, you came to believe that there was more to the man. But looking back, the way he spoke with you was overly familiar. If you were a lady of higher standing, his familiarity would have been inappropriate. But you’ve never been one to put on airs or think yourself of higher station than you really are, so you accepted it, even flirted back. Were you a complete fool to be so taken in? During the picnic with just the two of you, perhaps he was hoping for something more to happen. Was it his first attempt to seduce you, and you were too naïve to see it? You let yourself think that he actually cared for you. Why would he? You’re no one special, just a nobody who got lucky enough to get a position in the palace, and he’s a knight of Camelot, of the king’s inner circle.

You move to rake your hands through your hair in anguish, but find fabric there instead, covering your cropped hair: your daily reminder of that horrible man, of his thick arms holding you as he used you as a human shield, as he took a part of you, just to make some coin. Holding your head in your hands, hot tears fall down your cheeks as you curse the day you were taken by those bandits, you curse the day you met Gwaine and you curse yourself for falling for him.

Your moment of despair is interrupted by a rap at the door. You raise your head and stare at the door as the visitor knocks again. You stay where you are, waiting to hear retreating footsteps, but instead, the latch lifts and the door swings open. You quickly stand, hastily wiping your face on your sleeve as Merlin steps inside. He scans the room briefly before his eyes fall to you.

“Are you alright?” He asks.

“It is customary to wait for someone to answer the door,” Anger flares at this intrusion during your moment of weakness.

“I’m sorry,” He replies. “It’s just… I saw you heading to your chambers so I knew you were in here,”

“So that makes it alright to enter without an invitation?” Your voice rises.

“I thought something might be wrong,” Merlin replies defensively.

“It isn’t your business whether something is wrong or not, if you have not been invited inside!”

Merlin stares guiltily, eyes wide, clearly choosing his next words wisely.

“Why have you come?” You ask before he has the chance to speak again. You wish for this encounter to be over.

“Arthur wanted to see you about clothes for the harvest festival,”

“Clothes? Does he want something made?”

“I believe so,”

“Very well, tell him I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,”

Merlin nods and leaves your chambers, hastily closing the door on his way out.

~

Merlin turns at the end of the passage, where he almost collides with Gwaine.

“Have you just been to see (Y/N)?” The knight asks as he turns and falls into step beside Merlin.

“Yes,” Merlin replies.

“Did she answer the door for you?”

“Well… not exactly,” Merlin shrugs.

“What do you mean?” Gwaine’s brow creases in confusion.

“I let myself in,”

“Merlin,” Gwaine says sternly.

“She was really angry,” Merlin grimaces.

“Of course she was, even I know you never enter a lady’s chambers without being invited,” Gwaine shakes his head. “Anyway, how was she?”

“Apart from looking like she wanted to throw something at my head?”

“Yeah, apart from that,”

Merlin stops walking and faces his friend.

“When I walked in, it looked as if she’d been crying,” He says in a low tone.

“Crying?” Gwaine’s eyes widen. “I have to see her,”

 He moves to head back the way he came.

“Wait,” Merlin grabs Gwaine’s arm to stop him. “You can’t go now, she’s about to see Arthur. Speaking of which, that’s where I need to be too,”

“Alright,” Gwaine sighs. “Thanks Merlin,”

~

You arrive at the royal chambers and knock upon the door.

“Enter,” The king calls out from within.

You open the door and step inside to find the king standing beside the fireplace, one arm resting on the mantlepiece, and Merlin, sitting at the table, mending a sock. He glances up at you and you look back at him, a tension between you from your recent encounter.

“You wished to see me sire?” You say as you step across the threshold, tearing your gaze away from the manservant.

“Yes,” The king straightens. “I thought it might be nice if Guinevere and I had matching attire for the harvest feast. Perhaps I could wear a doublet in matching colours?”

“Very good, sire. I will draw up some designs. I could return tomorrow for you to choose one, if that suits?”

“No need,” The king replies. “Guinevere is very pleased with your work, and I trust her judgment. I know you’ll come up with something good,” He smiles.

“Thank you, sire, I will get to work right away,” You turn to leave.

“One more thing,” The king says.

You turn your gaze back toward him.

“I want it to be a surprise, so don’t tell Guinevere,”

You nod and leave the royal chambers.

~

You wake to a chilly morning, wrapping a shawl around your shoulders before heading down to get a fire started. Once it’s burning steadily, you move to the kitchen bench and slice some bread and cheese, before starting to chop some fruit when there’s a knock at your chamber door. You instantly stop what you’re doing, placing the knife down gently before glancing at the door to make sure it’s bolted. If it’s Merlin, he won’t be able to let himself in again, although you were sure you had bolted it yesterday as well…

There’s another knock, slightly more forceful this time.

“I know you’re in there, (Y/N), I can hear you,”

The voice belongs to Gwaine. You can practically feel the colour drain from your face as you realise there’s nothing for you to do now other than answer him. Pulling your shawl tighter around your shoulders, you reluctantly make your way to the door and open it only a few inches. Gwaine looks at you through the gap, his brow creased.

“I know you’ve been ignoring anyone who comes to your door. Please, tell me what’s wrong,”

You swallow, embarrassed that you’ve been found out.

“Nothing’s wrong,” You say, voice unusually high. “I’ve just been busy,”

You cringe inwardly at the feeble excuse.

“I don’t doubt your work ethic, but I know the king and queen don’t overload you with work. So, unless you’ve another customer we don’t know about?”

You look down. “I don’t know what you want me to say,”

“The truth,” Gwaine says firmly, but not unkindly. “Why do you refuse to see anyone? Why do you treat me like a stranger now?”

The last sentence is spoken in barely more than a whisper. Your eyes prick, threatening to betray you.

“I know,” You force the dreaded words from your mouth. “That you do not care for me as I once thought. Especially now,”

“Don’t care for you? Especially now? what are you talking about? Why do you think I’ve been trying to see you? I want to make sure you’re alright. We spoke once since you got back and then… nothing. Then when I’ve run into you, you’ve been… cold. What’s going on?”

A single tear spills over and you wipe it hastily, wishing to retreat inside as soon as possible. You steel yourself to say what you need to say.

“I know that you do not act in a gentlemanly manner toward… women you are interested in,”

“What?” His voice flares with anger. “Where did you hear this?”

You keep your eyes down, but you can feel his gaze boring into you.

“Ah,” He sniffs. “I believe I know exactly who is behind this… information,”

You hazard a glance at him to see his jaw has hardened and his brows have knitted together in anger.

“I will leave you be, if that’s what you want,” Gwaine says. “But before I do, you must hear this: you can’t trust a word that comes out of my sister’s mouth. She’s a spiteful snake who can’t bear it when I find a shred of happiness. I’d pity her wretched existence if she hadn’t ruined so many things for me,”

His voice is filled with venom, speaking in a way unlike any you’ve heard from him before. Your heart thumps as you sense rage radiating from him, and his words run through your mind, their meaning falling into place, one by one.

“I’ll leave you now,” He says. “But please, consider what I have said,”

He turns on his heel and strides away, disappearing around the corner at the end of the passage.

You close the door and rest your forehead against the wood, thoughts whirring through your mind so fast that a sense of numbness washes over you. You don’t know how long you stand there like that, the spell only broken when a pang of hunger shoots through your stomach and you return to your abandoned breakfast.

~

You awaken the next morning feeling sluggish, and as much as you want to stay in bed, you force yourself to rise and make breakfast before starting on Arthur’s doublet. Having spent the time after Gwaine’s visit yesterday sitting around your chambers in a dejected daze, you are determined to use your time more productively today.

After cutting out the doublet pieces from the same green silk as Gwen’s gown, you begin stitching the panels together. Stitching in a line doesn’t require much concentration from you, so your thoughts inevitably drift from your task.

If what Gwaine said is true, then you have been very foolish and incredibly cruel. You picture the situation reversed, imagining if he suddenly refused to see you and tried to get away as fast as he could if he ran into you. Your heart aches at the pain you must have caused him.

You’ve known since that first overheard conversation between Gwaine and Erika that they have different ways of thinking. You’d assumed that was the reason they didn’t get on. While it was hurtful to hear Erika tell Gwaine that he should be setting his sights higher than someone like you, it isn’t exactly an unusual sentiment among noble families. In fact, it’d be fair to say that it’s the norm, so you didn’t really think of Erika as a nasty person, just a typical noblewoman. But if Gwaine spoke true about her… you remember how troubled he was at the picnic after that encounter, how defeated he sounded when he said that he didn’t understand why she’d come to Camelot… he must have been afraid of the damage she would cause.

How can you ever apologise to him for being so taken in, and behaving so terribly? You want more than anything to heal the breach between you, but what could you possibly say to make this right?