#got a stroke trying to write Camelot

[badsalmonella]

I feel like now would be a good time to confess to you all that I never actually read Once and Future King, I accidentally listened to an abridged radio play adaptation that I put on because I thought it was the audiobook but realized once I was in too deep, and too invested that it was NOT an audiobook. Two things that I forget are not ACTUALLY products of the book:

-Arthur gets turned into an ant and the ants communicate via RADIO WALKIE TALKIE STYLE. I like listening to audiobooks while I'm working. I spaced out for like a second then when I checked back in I was like "???? Is this still the medieval times????"

-Merlin at the end is like "Don't worry Arthur. The people won't forget you. Lerner and Lowe are gonna write you a great musical" and Arthur's like "dude what the fuck are you talking about?"

[mercerislandbooks]

Book Notes: Twelfth Knight

Football and tabletop games. Shakespeare and MMORPG’s. Fandom, feminism and the perils of falling in love. Alexene Farol Fallmuth's new YA, Twelfth Knight, has all this and more in its pages.

Viola (Vi) Reyes would like it if she lived in a world where no one questioned her abilities in ConQuest, a tabletop game, or in the MMORPG Twelfth Knight simply because she’s female. Since that isn’t the case, and Vi spends enough of her time fighting to be taken seriously in real life, she’s crafted a male alter-ego, Cesario, for Twelfth Knight, so she can simply play the game.

Jack (Duke) Orsino is ready to have the senior year of his dreams, leading his high school football team to state championships. But when an injury sidelines him indefinitely at the beginning of the season, Jack’s friend introduces him to the diverting world of Twelfth Knight. In the online game, Jack has a body that isn’t restricted by injury, and he quickly becomes engrossed by the challenges and quests. Before long, Jack encounters Cesario in the game, and the two team up to take on the most epic quest in Twelfth Knight-- the quest for Camelot.

Jack has no idea that Cesario is really his classmate, Vi Reyes, the thorn in his side, perfectionist Vice President to his laid-back Student Body President. Viola, on the other hand, is very aware of DukeOrsino12’s actual identity, but has no intention of outing her real gender in Twelfth Knight. As the two grow closer, both on and off-line, Vi is increasingly aware what coming clean could cost her.

Alexene Farol Fallmuth also writes under the name Olivie Blake in the adult fantasy space. She’s taken on Shakespeare before, with One for my Enemy, as well as crafting the Atlas Six trilogy and several other fantastic novels. The broad strokes of Twelfth Night (twins, false identities with gender swapping, misunderstandings galore) undergird this contemporary YA retelling, while bringing in sharp commentary on toxic masculinity and female inclusion in places like tabletop game communities, online gaming communities, and fandom.

Fallmuth is unvarnished in her portrayal of how Vi struggles to belong in places she’s passionate about but aren’t inherently welcoming to her and the anger that burdens her as she continues to fight. It was hard to read in the beginning. I wondered what shape Viola’s character arc would take because all the reasons she is so angry were justifiable. I didn’t want her to stop being angry. But I did want her to stop feeling so alone. You can see her tender heart, when people show up for her, when they see beyond the barbed exterior and trust her with vulnerable things. She might have a sharp tongue, but she is also wants to be accepted for who she is, prickliness and all, and she’s afraid that no one ever will.

Meanwhile Jack is trying to figure out who he is if he can’t play football. What will the future look like for him? He’s torn between the expectations of his father and the concerns of his mother, all while having completely new avenues open up before him when his injury forces him into trying new things. In this season of graduates heading out into their next chapters, this advice from Viola to Jack about the future from the middle of the book feels especially poignant:

"Personally, I don’t think there’s only one outcome for life,” I add, and when he says nothing, I continue, “I mean, I don’t think there’s a predestined fate or anything. You’re not born to play football. There’s a version of your life where you do other things. Infinite versions. And when you make a choice, you cast off one possible outcome, but then, I don’t know—ten more pop up in its place. And you just keep going like that, choosing a path and watching new paths branch off in front of you. Even if the old ones disappear behind you, it doesn’t have to be sad…" (pp 161-162)

Not a bad worldview for any age.

We’ve got a few special editions of Twelfth Knight on hand with gorgeous, illustrated endpapers and an enamel pin for giveaway with purchase. If you’re an audiobook reader, I highly recommend Twelfth Knight on audio. Twelfth Knight would easily fit Young Adult square for your Summer Book Bingo, but also Friendship or BIPOC Romance!

-- Lori

[ampedupkaon]

August Writing Challenge Day 2: Diane/King

AN: Diane does what King is fluttering about at the start in the OVA series. This happens some time before King and Ban set out to the Fairy King's Forest and the rest of them set off for Camelot (and meet Galand). Apologies for this one being a day late!

She's... she's sleeping on my Chastiefol... King realised, a soft smile crossing his face. Though... it was hardly the first time she'd done it. It still made him boggle every time he caught her doing it though. She looked so cute. She looked so cute all of the time, but that wasn't news to King. Diane was adorable. Particularly when she was sleeping softly like right now though. He yawned, stretching to try and get rid of the tiredness. He wasn't going to... to join her. Her getting comfortable on Chastiefol when he was already asleep was her choice. He wasn't going to join her in bed. That wasn't right.

And you want to do it anyway, don't you? He told himself off. His feet moved before he could stop himself, and he was now standing beside her. All he had to do was settle down beside her and they could sleep together. Wait, wait, wait! That's not what I meant! His cheeks had flushed a little just imagining that. He'd also settled on Chastiefol beside Diane before he could stop himself. And now the two of them were in bed together. Like a couple. His cheeks went pink.

Shame she likes the captain... He thought with a sigh he hoped was internal. He loved Diane; he knew that. Diane loved the captain. And he knew that meant he stood no chance. Even if he wanted to touch her, cuddle her... k-k-kiss her... His cheeks turned red at the thought of his lips brushing hers. At how... how amazing that would feel. He hoped the sighs he kept making were internal. He started trying to get himself comfortable. He was tired and maybe he could just have a little nap and... Diane fidgeted, rolling to face him. His blush returned.

She's... so cute... His heart started fluttering. He shuffled closer, stilling when he was in arms' reach. He could reach out and... and what? Stroke her cheek? Pet her hair? His body froze. He couldn't! She was asleep! He wasn't even sure she'd like him to do that if she was awake! He clenched his arms tight around himself, closing his eyes to try and resist the urge. He... wanted to hold her, yes but... she wouldn't want him to. Of that he was certain. She wanted to cuddle with... make babies with the captain. He tried to relax but that just seemed to make his heart start pounding harder. Then he felt himself be grabbed, tugged towards her and hoped the squeak he made was internal.

She's... she's... ah... He shivered. Diane was cuddling him. Him! She'd pulled him into her arms, cuddling him against her body. Her lovely curvy body that was soft like peaches and... He hoped the embarrassing noises were just in his head. He could feel something trickling down from his nose, blood he knew. She was beautiful; every soft cuddly inch. She started nuzzling and the trickle became a small fountain. She was cuddling and snuggling and... it felt so, so good!

“K-King...” She mumbled. He'd swear his heart exploded. She... she was... Was she dreaming about him?! No. Impossible! She fancied the captain! He hoped she was dreaming about him anyway. Maybe she was remembering what they did together? They had spent a day together, though King couldn't remember doing what. He figured it had to be important. He couldn't remember though. Dammit! He cursed internally. He yawned, carefully covering his mouth. He didn't want to wake her, no way! She'd move and that would be it. And he wanted to enjoy this moment.

Then settle down. He got comfortable and closed his eyes. She was warm, she was cuddling him and he was tired. And it would be all too easy to fall asleep in her arms, pretend she was his partner. He didn't dare cuddle her back; that might wake her up and she'd jump away as though scalded. And he was enjoying the fantasy too much to dare. He started to doze, feeling her arms tighten a tiny bit more. He drifted off to sleep, the warmth and the comfortable bed easily lulling him to sleep. Diane brushed her lips to the top of his head when he was asleep, but he didn't feel it.

AN: King wakes up later and has a massive nosebleed, because Diane is still cuddling him.

[hotdamnhunnam]

Work of Art

A/N: So these gifs got me in the MOOD to write some filthy Arthur smut because it’s RUDE for anyone to look this good and I’m a filthy fucking slut 🙃 Note that the title is a silly pun because punny fic titles are fun!! 🤡

Pairing: King Arthur x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, queen/whore!reader worshipping her beautiful beloved king

Word Count: ~1.7k

Though you’re the reigning queen of Camelot, it’s easy to remember who you were.

For all the wealth and power that you’ve got... you never once forgot. Not ever. Former life, before he claimed you as his wife, when you were nothing but a whore. And when you kneel before your sovereign king it’s easy to remember. Nothing brings you greater pleasure. Just as you are to your dear beloved Arthur, he’s your everything and more.

He knows it too. Still you spend every night reminding him it’s true.

The king has... issues. More perhaps than most kings do. On the surface he’s all swagger, witty tongue sharp as a dagger. Famously cocky as fuck. And he has every reason to be when he carries such a godly gorgeous cock. Cheeky as fuck as well—with good reason for that too, just as gorgeous from the back view—those firm sculpted cheeks are glorious as hell.

But doubts and demons rage within, beneath the skin, and it’s a constant fucking struggle. It’s no secret to the court that he was raised in a damn brothel. He’s past caring what they say and knows this kingdom is his birthright, one he’s done trying to fight; you tell him often that he rules it so damn well. Yet still he feels unfit to rule on some level. More at peace when he was out upon the streets, scraping for coin and scraps to eat, a crass and careless little devil.

You understand, in every way a loving wife possibly can. You sense it when the sword of legend feels too heavy in his hand. Weight of the crown more than the brothel boy can stand. He is the mighty king of Camelot, to you a fucking god whether he sees himself in such a light or not—yet still at heart he’s just a man.

Certainly looks more godly than anything though, when he stands before you each night in the glow of moonlight through the castle window. Statue-still as you stare at the chiseled muscles of his torso. Godlike always yet tonight you reckon he’s never looked more so.

King of your heart. Inside as well as out King Arthur is a goddamned work of art, and there is nothing you love more than to adore and worship every single part.

Whenever he feels insecure... inferior... you’re here, to stroke his ego till it stands prouder and harder. Here to serve him like the whore that you once were. The whore that you will always be for Arthur.

All else fades beyond this room. These royal chambers, black of night streaked with the stars’ scarce silver light and the burnt gold of glowing embers, are your haven from the kingdom. Where you save him from the weight of what he was forced to become.

“My king,” you sigh as you kneel down before him, high on how entirely you live and breathe for him. Already undressed to his liking, so that he can run his gaze across your skin so clean and bare. His love the only thing you ever care to wear.

You bow your head in deep submission. Feel at home in this position. Purr in pleasure at the soft touch of his palm upon your hair, surrender as he tilts your face up towards him now to meet the sea-blue of his stare. He’s so damn perfect it can’t possibly be fair.

You tell him so. Can sense the demons in him slowly letting go. They’ll sink their claws back in tomorrow. Doesn’t matter though. To hell with what comes next. For now the peace and pride and happiness that you provide are real even if it may feel as though you have to wrestle them from worlds of woe and beg and steal and borrow... “My king, you’re perfect.”

Every word off your loving lips renders him wrecked.

The leather-clad bulge at his crotch enlarges dangerously as his hand leaves your hair to cup your jaw and sweep his thumb across the smooth skin of your neck. To feel the flutter of your pulse pounding for him and no one else. Now even larger his erection swells. Art could erect a whole damn empire on the enormous length and girth of that epic third leg.

He knows that you’d die for the privilege to see and touch and taste. Won’t let an inch of his perfection go to waste. He’s so aroused he barely even has the patience now to make you moan and beg.

You groan and grovel on your knees. “Your Highness, please...”

With a soft motion of his hand, he urges you to stand, but not just to prolong the tease. Sometimes the distance when you’re kneeling is too much—he longs to touch, to frame your waist in his strong arms, to feel you soft and close and warm, to stroke and squeeze.

He loved you long before all this. Before the foretold pull of sword from stone was beckoning. Loves you above his kingdom and his crown by any reckoning. From that first kiss, shared long before his future was beginning, every kiss since then has been another promise. “Y/N, I love you more than anything.”

You don’t need words to know. It never hurts to hear it though. “As I love you, my king.”

He smiles brightly, holds you tightly, brings his sweet lips down to press against your own, and guides you toward the bed behind you with intention to recline you on the edge as if this surface is your throne. He loves to work his mouth and fingers all across his queen and make you fucking moan.

You almost give in, to the slide of his strong hands against your skin. The way his touch weakens and wrecks you to the bone. He almost wins...

You almost give in, but you don’t.

“Hands off,” you mutter as you shift of his grasp; the sudden strength you’ve summoned draws from him a stifled gasp. “You spoiled me for three hours this morning and I think that’s quite enough. My turn to shower you with love.”

His Highness loves the way you shove. The way you play. The way you map the course of every move he makes more powerfully than all the fucking stars above. “Whatever you say,” Arthur yields with an amused huff, as you turn to spread his back against the bed, leaning down over him as you study the worries swirling through his pretty head. He pouts and states what you’ve already read. “I feel like shit today.”

Shit doesn’t matter, when it’s just you and your king alone together. Smile and murmur in his ear all set to take him past the pinnacle of pleasure. He’s your god and this is how you pray. “I’ll make it go away.”

And so you do.

Everything else outside the room is all a lie and you remind him of what’s true. 

How much you love him. Every inch of him. Above all else the noble soul within, beacon of virtue... but for so long as you’re here upon this earth the soul is wrapped in skin, and mortal pleasure can’t love through. Yet still this sheath of skin is his and you love every single part. With every kiss and touch your love beats through his blood and to his heart.

His face to start. No man or god could ever paint or carve a finer work of art. Running your fingers through his glorious gold mane, you pause a moment to admire the perfection of his face so stunning it causes you pain. Bend down to brush your smiling lips against the smooth plane of his forehead, as he sinks deeper in bed, just as a flower dips so happily beneath the pour of sweet life-giving rain.

Your kisses trace a path like rain upon a rose—the chiseled structure of his nose... slope of his cheekbones and his jawline... bristle-soft scratch of his beard against your loving lips deliciously divine... 

Blonde lashes fluttering in bliss, he’s going hazy with each kiss. Crazy just how badly he craves this and needs this. You could go on forever lavishing his flawless features just the way he pleases.

Arthur’s jaw goes slack, tongue loose from just how desperately he wants to kiss you back...

But you have plans now to descend and you won’t let his hunger for the wet heat of your mouth take you off track.

His Majesty just has to keep panting for air like a mad wreck, as your face lowers toward his neck. You marvel all the fucking while, through your moonbeam of a smile, over how he is so gorgeous and so perfect. Every whisper has his leather-bound length straining more enormous and erect.

Your tongue swirls slowly in the hollow of his throat before you shift to lick your way along the firm ridge of his collarbones. You’re living off his gasps and groans. 

Down to his chest, the planes of muscle spread across his heart—the part of him that you love best, the epicenter of your precious work of art. Beat of the blood that courses ever in your name and keeps him warm. You kiss and suck the luscious pink peaks of his nipples as your hands massage the firm bulge of his broad shoulders and sculpted upper arms.

You love him soft just like the sweet slip of your tongue—but also strong—you would kill anyone who dares to do him harm.

And any harm he ever feels, you’re here to heal.

Whatever hurts—the wounds of hard-fought wars, the weight of hateful words, the burden of the birthright that he shoulders like a curse... you’ll love him better through the worst. Give him whatever peace and comfort you can steal. Pain lost in pleasure for although the pain is real, he doesn’t feel it when his heart is filled with you until it bursts.

It always is but he can focus on that more, when you’re so busy servicing him like a filthy little whore. Beneath the leather at his crotch rages the royal fucking scepter that is aching to release its pent-up pressure and relieve both of your thirsts...

You’ll get there soon enough. Shower his massive cock with love.

Just hope that your king can hold off—for until then of course... you’ll be worshipping every other inch of this work of art first.

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

Masterlist

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[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Rest, Now

Prompt: I absolutely love your protective knights/protective Arthur works. Would you write your take on the aftermath of the Lamia episode? I'd love to see Arthur's reaction once he finds out what happened to Merlin. Bonus points for protective Gwen as well, and them knowing about Merlin's magic.

Ah yes, love this prompt. Protecc™ the Merlin pls

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none, just a sad Merlin

Pairings: gwen/merlin/arthur

Word Count: 2096

The second he sees the walls of Camelot, Merlin slumps in the saddle. Cara nickers in warning and he just manages to right himself before Arthur looks over.

“Are you sure you don’t need to be cured too?”

Merlin suppresses a shudder and shakes his head. Arthur gives him a once-over before turning back around. Gaius gives him a look.

“I’m fine,” he mutters, “just ready to get back home.”

“You and me both, Merlin.”

“Merlin?” Gwen reaches over to touch his arm, stopping when he flinches. “Whoa, Merlin, are you alright?”

“Yes, fine, just—“ he shakes his head— “little jumpy.”

He sees Gwen’s mouth harden a little as she shoots a glance at Elyan. She nods. Camelot’s door can’t close behind them soon enough.

The knights dismount first, each patting their horse as they lead them to the stables. Gwaine looks over his shoulder and reaches for Merlin. Merlin manages to hold still as Gwaine takes his arm.

“Are you sure you’re alright,” he asks in the soft voice normally reserved for dark nights when Gaius is out and Arthur is crueler, “do you need anything?”

Merlin shakes his head.

“Will you tell me if you do?”

He nods. It seems to satisfy Gwaine but not Elyan, who narrows his eyes.

“When was the last time you got looked at? Did Gaius check you out too?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.” Is that Percival too? “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

There are too many of them. Too many. They could be hurt. They could still be susceptible to magical influences. Merlin’s magic could—he could—they’re still vulnerable.

They could still hurt him. He could—she could still have some hold on them. It wouldn’t be the first time Gaius’s magical knowledge has failed them.

“Enough!”

Gwen? Is that Gwen?

“You’re hounding him,” she scolds, pushing through the tangle of knights to put her arm protectively around Merlin’s shoulders, “knock it off. You’ve all had a rough go of it recently so go rest and let Merlin do the same.”

As Merlin watches the knights shuffle like scolded puppies, despite everything a corner of his mouth tugs up in a slight smile. Never let it be said that Gwen can’t make people do what she likes.

The only one standing in between him, Gwen, and getting as far away from here as possible is Leon. He looks at Merlin, splits him in two, peers into the very being of his soul. Then his eyes soften almost imperceptibly and he bows.

“My Lady,” he says, “Merlin. May you rest well.”

Thank you, Leon.

By the time Merlin’s shepherded away from the knights under Gwen’s wing, he looks up to realize that Arthur’s gone. A rush of worry slaps him in the chest.

“Shh,” Gwen whispers as she guides him through the halls, “we’re almost there. It’s alright.”

Arthur turns when they push open the door to the massive chambers, already out of his armor—how long was Merlin down there?—and coming around the table to take Gwen into a hug. Right. Merlin gives himself a shake and starts moving to get their food, do his chores.

Only to be thwarted by a strong arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him into a shoulder that smells light sunlight and metal.

“Where are you going,” Arthur mumbles, absentmindedly nuzzling into Merlin’s hair, “I’ve not had the chance to see you properly since this mess started.”

At the mention of what just happened, Merlin tenses. No. Arthur was never hurt by the Lamia. Arthur was never caught. Arthur is fine. Arthur is safe. Arthur isn’t hurt.

“Merlin? Merlin!”

He blinks, only for Arthur’s concerned face to swim into view in front of him. Next to him, Gwen wraps her hand around his, squeezing gently.

“Hey,” Arthur murmurs, tilting his head, “what’s the matter? You went somewhere for a moment.”

Merlin can’t do anything but blink.

“Come on,” Arthur teases gently, “surely it takes more than a hug to daze you?”

Something cold settles in the pit of Merlin’s stomach.

“They—they were—all she had to do was kiss them.”

“What?”

“All she had to do was talk to them, touch them, kiss them,” Merlin mumbles, “and they were hers. They changed, they didn’t care, they were—it was just a kiss.”

“Hey, hey—“ Arthur starts to hustle him toward the bed— “sit, Merlin, you look like you’re about to fall over.”

Gwen fetches a goblet and wraps his hand around it. “Drink, Merlin.”

“What is it?”

“Pear juice, your favorite.”

“Oh.” Merlin raises it to his lips. What’s wrong with him? Why is he acting like this? He’s fine.

“You just watched some of your closest friends succumb to powerful magic,” Gwen points out when he voices that, “you watched their minds change, that’s enough to shake anyone.”

“But they’re alright now, Merlin,” Arthur promises, “you’re all safe now. It’s dead, I killed it. You, and the knights, and Gwen, and Gaius, you’re all back here now, you’re safe.”

But was Merlin ever in any significant danger? He has his magic, there’s no way he would’ve been as easy a target as the others. Did he—did he draw attention to them by being himself and being there? Did she take the others because of him?

“Whatever you’re thinking,” comes Gwen’s stern voice, “stop it. Stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control.”

She gives him a pointed look and gestures to their entwined hands.

“Even you can’t fix everything, Merlin.”

“But I should’ve been able to fix this,” Merlin argues, his face contorting, “I should’ve—I—“

“And what would you have done, Merlin,” Arthur asks softly, “what could you do?”

Merlin’s blood runs cold. Next to him, even Gwen makes a little noise.

“No,” Arthur says firmly, “what could you have done? If you’re so intent on blaming yourself, what could you have done to make a difference?”

“Arthur!”

“Come on, Gwen, don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt you to see Merlin try and carry the whole world on his shoulders!” Arthur folds his arms and leans against the poster of the bed. “Tell us, Merlin, why should you be held accountable?”

“Arthur enough.” Gwen’s voice rings in the chamber as Merlin hides his head shamefully. “He’s already upset, he doesn’t need you to make it worse.”

“Don’t—“ he swallows heavily— “don’t fight, please. Don’t fight, not now.”

“We’re not fighting, Merlin,” comes Arthur’s soft voice again, followed by a warm hand cupping his cheek, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Why don’t you go get dinner then,” Gwen says, only a little less frosty, “as part of your apology.”

Arthur only sighs and does as bid. As soon as the door closes, Gwen leans forward and wraps him in a tight hug, letting him gasp heavily into her shoulder.

“Shh, shh,” she whispers, carding a soothing hand through his hair, “shh, Merlin, it’s alright, I’d never give up your secret, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“He—he asked, Gwen, I—I can’t—what if he knew?”

“I would never let anyone hurt you,” she promises fiercely, “you know I wouldn’t. That includes Arthur.”

“I won’t be able to keep from telling him someday, Gwen!”

“And when that day comes, I will be by your side and he will get down on his knees and thank you for all that you’ve done.”

“He won’t, Gwen. He’ll be so angry.”

Gwen pulls back enough to take his face in her hand. “He may be. For an instant. And then he will thank you. And you know he cares for you far too much to truly be angry at you.”

Merlin’s lip wobbles.

“Oh, Merlin—“ she pulls him back into her embrace— “I’ve got you, honey, it’s alright.”

“Alright, so I’ve got dinner, how are we—Merlin?”

There’s the sound of plates clattering to the table and rapid footsteps before another strong set of arms surround him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” comes Arthur’s warm concern, “what’s so bad? I’m sorry if I pushed too hard, I worry, shh, it’s alright, don’t cry.”

Gwen presses a kiss to his forehead as Arthur’s arms slip lower to wrap around his waist.

“We’re right here, Merlin, we won’t leave you.”

“You’re safe, sweetheart, I’ll look after you, we both will.”

“Shh, shh, honey, it’s okay.”

Merlin buries his head in the crook of Arthur’s neck and sobs. Arthur lets out a comforting noise and his hand comes up to cup the back of his head. He strokes gently, finding the soft spot that makes all of Merlin’s muscles relax on cue. Arthur moves the boneless pile of Merlin to the bed proper, scooping the man into his lap and letting Gwen shift close enough to lay her head between both of them.

“We’re not going anywhere,” Gwen promises, her hand wiping away one of Merlin’s tears, “you can cry, we’ll be right here.”

Arthur’s chin comes to rest on top of Merlin’s head, creating a little bubble of intimacy here, in his arms, sheltered in the lea of him. Merlin is taller than him—a fact he never lets Arthur forget—but the way he’s curled in on himself lets Arthur wrap protectively around him.

There is nowhere safer in Camelot.

After a long while, Gwen pulls away, murmuring something about making sure the food doesn’t spoil. As she vanishes behind the curtain, Arthur slowly shifts to sit Merlin on the end of the bed, sliding off to stand in front of him.

“Shh,” he hushes when Merlin whines in protest, “I’m just grabbing the handkerchief. I need to wipe your face off.”

Gentle fingers tip his chin up and the cloth is soft against his face. Arthur is patient, patting and dabbing up the mess and leaning down so Merlin can wrap his fingers in his tunic.

“There,” he murmurs eventually, setting the handkerchief aside and cupping Merlin’s face in his hands, “a little redder than normal, but other than that…”

Merlin swats halfheartedly at him. Arthur chuckles before he pulls away. Merlin opens his mouth to ask where he’s going when—

His mouth hangs when Arthur lowers himself carefully to his knees in front of him.

“I truly didn’t mean to scare you,” Arthur says in a hushed voice, taking Merlin’s hands in his, “earlier. I just wanted you to see that you—you don’t have to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. You’re still human, Merlin.”

“Arthur—what—what are you doing?”

“What I should’ve done long ago.” Arthur’s mouth tugs up. “You and Gwen aren’t quite as quiet as you think you are, you know that?”

Merlin’s eyes widen. “You—you heard?”

In response, Arthur takes Merlin’s hands and presses them to his chest, squeezing lightly. His smile softens.

“Thank you, Merlin,” he whispers and the words sink deep into Merlin’s chest, “and no, this wasn’t your fault either.”

“How—how long have you known?”

“I’ve suspected since the troll,” Arthur murmurs, standing and pulling Merlin back into a cuddle, “and I’ve never been angry since the Cup of Life.”

He squeezes Merlin gently.

“So don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart,” he whispers, “or else.”

Merlin sobs out a laugh, clutching desperately at Arthur, not angry Arthur, not upset Arthur, warm Arthur, caring Arthur, safe Arthur. “Or else what?”

“Or else I’ll have to make you take care of yourself.” Arthur scrubs his knuckles lightly over Merlin’s head. “So go sit with Gwen and we’ll eat or I’ll carry you there.”

He pulls back, just enough that he can see Merlin’s face and pat his cheek.

Merlin swallows. “Is that a threat?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. “You asked for it.”

Gwen looks up when Arthur carries a Merlin to their dinner table and sits him down, reaching to take his hand and place it in hers. She giggles, pulling Merlin close enough to kiss his forehead, looking at his smile.

“That’s much better,” she notes, “now eat. You’ve had a long day.”

He’s had a long few days, honestly.

But as he starts to eat, as he and Arthur trade quips across the table, as Gwen’s hand stays warm in his, he may be able to rest tonight.

[mca-attack21]

Surprise (Part 2)

Sorry guys, apparently this part got deleted. You can find part 1: here and the final part: here as for the masterlist containing more of my writing look: here. This is just the beginning for Merlin imagines on this blog, I just watched the show for the first time and in love.

Before long, Gaius came in to check on you. He quickly grew concerned as there were no signs of improvement. In fact, you seemed worse than when you were brought in earlier. He quickly checked your bandages and instead of red, your blood was seemingly black.

“Merlin, take a look at this,” Gaius summoned the young warlock.

“What does it mean?”

“It means that this was no ordinary wound. You need to get Arthur at once.”

Merlin made his way into the meeting room and was trying to figure out the best way to get Arthur’s attention when he caught his eye and caused the king to stop in the middle of his sentence. “Is Y/n awake?”

Merlin just managed to shake his head, “Gaius needs you at once Sire, it is urgent.”

“Excuse me,” Arthur said to his knights and counsel members before all but running up the stairs to his chambers.

“What happened?” he asked.

“It seems that she is getting worse. Her wound is infected and it is spreading. Her pulse and breathing have slowed and she is on the border of fever. Though it is not from the wound itself, but rather I think what dealt the wound. I need to see the dagger to see if we are dealing with a poison or some form of sorcery, Sire. Until then, I’m afraid that there is little I can do.”

“Of course. Merlin, go fetch it, I put it in my saddle-bag.” 

“Right away Arthur.”

When Merlin grabbed it, he could feel the power it possessed. He quickly brought it up to Gaius whose face paled at the sight of it, which Arthur noticed.

“What is it Gaius? Have you seen it before?”

“I’m afraid I have Sire, it is the blade of Karaus an evil sorcerer who had it forged in the dragon’s breath and enchanted so that any any injury caused by the blade no matter how minor would be fatal to any enemy alive or dead.”

“So there is no cure? She is going to die and there is nothing we can do about it?” Arthur asked quickly wiping away a stray tear.

“The only way to save her is to destroy the dagger itself. But to do that you would need another blade forged in the fire’s breath and a powerful sorcerer. Even then, she doesn’t have much time. All I can do is try to keep her comfortable. I’m truly sorry Sire.”

“How long does she have?” Arthur asked never taking his eyes off you. 

“2-3 days at most.”

“I can ride and try to find Dragoon, he has helped us before. If anyone knows where to find such a blade he will,” Merlin spoke up already beginning to hatch his own plan.

“I will come with you, we can leave at first light,” Arthur spoke. 

“I don’t think that is wise Arthur.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I fail and Y/n dies, you should be at her side. I don’t think you would ever forgive yourself if you weren’t.”

“I suppose you are right, but how will you even know where to find the sorcerer?” Arthur asked.

“I can reach out to some of my contacts, one of them is bound to know where he is staying these days.”

“Okay, take anything you need Merlin. Promise the sorcerer anything he wants.”

“Yes Arthur.”

---

Later, Gaius reentered his chambers to find Merlin packing. “Where exactly are you planning to get such a sword? And the spell to break the enchantment?”

“The sword is easy, I just have to travel to the Lake of Avalon and retrieve Excalibur. As for the spell, I was hoping you could help me with that one.”

“Avalon is at least a two days journey, and that is with no hindrances, I don’t know if Y/n will hold out that long,” Gaius reminded.

“It would be a two day journey if I were going by horse. I plan to use a much faster mode of transportation,” Merlin smirked.

“Kilgharrah,” Gaius realized.

“Y/n saved his life once, he owes her a debt,” Merlin explained,

“Do you have any idea what spell it will take to destroy the blade?”

“Go grab me that book over there, the one with the black binding.”

After searching the pages Gaius found what he was looking for. “This spell is meant to take the enchantment off of any object. So you cast this spell, it makes the blade a weapon forged in the dragon’s breath, then you take Excalibur and destroy it once and for all.”

“And then Y/n will be fine?”

“Once the blade is destroyed, so is its magic. The queen will begin to recover immediately.”

“Okay, sounds great. Just another day in the life of Merlin,” Merlin joked.

“There is something else that you need to know,”

“What is it Gaius?”

“This blade is powerful in a way that no other weapon will ever be. And it is evil. It will do everything in its power to draw you to evil as you carry it and will fight against its destruction.”

“Anything else?” Merlin asked sarcastically.

“No, that’s it.”

Merlin had trouble sleeping that night. He was feeling overwhelmed by the task ahead. Normally in these situations, you were the one he would turn to. You know about his magic and had always been there for him. He eventually overcame his restlessness and drifted off. The next morning Gaius woke him at first light. He quickly grabbed his bag before promising Gaius that he would be careful.

He decided to go up to see you, just incase something were to go wrong. It was clear to him that your fever had set in sometime during the night. He set a his bags down and went to get a cool rag to place on your forehead. He then repositioned Arthur who had fallen asleep with his head on the side of your bed and covered him up with a blanket.

Both very drowsy and disoriented, Arthur was brought out of his sleep. “Merlin?” 

“Yes Arthur?”

“How is she?”

“The fever has set in, other than that there is no change.”

“Is everything prepared for your journey?”

“Yes, I am just about to leave.”

“I can’t express how much this means to me.”

“Anything to get a day away from you,” Merlin joked.

“I’m serious Merlin. It kills me not to be riding out with you. But if I did have to send anyone, I am glad it is you. I trust you will do everything in your power to save her. Either way I will forever be indebted to you.”

“Thank you Arthur, I won’t let you down, I promise.”

And with that he set off. He made his way out to meet Kilgharrah, trying to mentally prepare for the journey ahead.

“​Δράκος Χρειάζομαι βοήθεια για την Y/n που πεθαίνει” he spoke.

He was not forced to wait long before Kilgharrah touched down.

“Hello, young warlock. Tell me what happened and how I can help Y/n,” the dragon spoke.

“She was stabbed by Karaus’ dagger. I am going to destroy it and need to get to Avalon. Gaius believes she only has a day or two at most, which is why I called you. I need a ride. I know that Y/n once saved your life, please, help me save hers,” Merlin pleaded.

“Hop on,” Kilgharrah said without hesitation. And thus their journey began. The flight was quiet. Merlin was simply taking in the sights. From that high in the air everything seemed so small, so insignificant. Yet at the same time, it was breathtaking and interconnected.

Meanwhile:

“What do you mean that they failed to kill Arthur?” Morgana demanded.

“Your men attacked Arthur and Y/n as they were alone, but were taken out,” Agravaine revealed.

“Fools! All it took was the smallest of papercuts and Arthur would be dead,” Morgana yelled.

“All is not lost, My lady, for the queen was stroke my the dagger. Arthur is distracted, now is a great time to strike Camelot.”

“Where is the dagger now?” Morgana asked.

“The king’s servant took it, he is trying to find some sorcerer to break its spell.”

“We need to find the dagger.”

“We need to take this opportunity to attack Camelot.”

Morgana used her power to choke Agravaine and force him to listen, “That dagger is one of the few things that can kill Emrys. And, it can kill me. We will focus on nothing else until it is back in my possession.”

“Yes, my lady, I will send my men out at once.”

Back in Camelot:

“How is she Gaius?”

“Her fever is dangerously high Sire and none of my potions seem to be having any effect. I am afraid that she will not meet the sunrise. Right now all we can do is to keep her warm and hope Merlin is successful.”

Arthur stared down at you. He couldn’t comprehend how so much had gone wrong in a span of 24 hours. Yesterday, he was the happiest he had been in a long time and now he felt as if his entire world had been turned upside down.

The thought of never hearing your laugh again or seeing your smile. The thought of ruling Camelot without you by his side, it was almost too much to bear.

Arthur re-wet the rag before crawling in the bed beside you and carefully pulling you into his lap and readjusting the blankets. He placed the rag on your already damp forehead and stayed in that position just holding you and taking comfort in your presence.

Meanwhile with Merlin:

“This is as far as I can take you young Warlock, I will wait here for your return.”

“Thank you ​Kilgharrah,” Merlin said already on his way to the lake.

“Merlin,” the dragon called, “the battle for Y/n’s life now truly begins, her fate is in your hands,”

Merlin nodded his head in acknowledgement and began his journey forward. But even as he entered the wooded area, the path became darker. His legs grew heavy and his mind tired.

“The dagger possesses great power, a power that could build your own Emrys,” a voice filled Merlin’s head.

“It is a dark power and it needs to be destroyed,” Merlin shot back.

“Think of the potential, it could be used to take out Morgana. To take out anyone who you deem a threat to Camelot. All it takes is the smallest of pricks,” The force showed him images of him standing over Morgana.

“No one should have that much power,” Merlin reasoned.

“Maybe others shouldn’t, but you Emrys are a great sorcerer, you could manage it. You could use it for good, to protect Arthur and your destiny,” the Force persuaded.

“Y/n is dying,” Merlin replied as he pushed forward.

“You are too late, She is already dead,” the Force showed Merlin Y/n dying in Arthur’s arms and his reaction.

“No, she isn’t. You’re lying”

“Keep the dagger and seek your revenge on Morgana. End her plight once and for all.”

“No. There will be another way, a better way,” Merlin said as his head was now pounding. This force was pushing back against him with everything it had. So he retaliated with positive thoughts, memories of his friends and family, of Camelot, of Arthur, of Y/n, of his dream for the future of Albion.

As Merlin looked up he noticed that he had made it to the water’s edge. He set it on the ground and summoned his strength before reciting the spell that Giaus had given him. As soon as that was done, he turned to the lake where Freya was already offering Excalibur. Merlin quickly took the sword and destroyed the dagger which disappeared into black smoke. With it, an enormous weight seemed to lift off his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he said to Freya as he tossed her back the sword. His journey through the woods to Kilgharrah was much quicker this time round.

“Congratulations Merlin, what you have just done was no easy task, it took incredible strength and courage,” the dragon spoke.

“I could not have done it without you my friend, I just hope that we made it in time.”

[fantasy2739]

Could you possibly do a one-shot where Douxie and Archie first meet? Btw, I LOVE your writing!! ^-^

Archie and Douxie meeting? Oh man I hope I’ve done it justice. I love them.

Thank you so much for reading my work! Every like, reblog, comment and ask fill me with joy!

I hope you enjoy:

Archie knew his father hadn’t been ecstatic when he’d chosen to be a cat. After all, being a familiar wasn’t the best profession. But wizards got to see all kind of cool things. Travel the world. Invent new magic. And Archie loved seeing new things. Not to mention the added bonus of escaping the walking pun factory he called dad. He’d left, going to find a wizard that he would happily follow. Familiars had a good sense for wizards. They had to, otherwise they’d never find anyone. He eyed a few wizards that he’d seen. Most were adults, who probably wouldn’t want him around. Some of the younger wizards were promising. Archie followed a couple for a few days but then they’d do something nasty, inappropriate or just be arrogant little sods. One had spotted him and kicked at him.

“Don’t come near me.” They hissed. “You’ll expose me.” Archie scampered away. He knew that magic was viewed... harshly. But he was a cat. He’d blend in. And he’d never expose his wizard. They were his friend life partner, and family. To betray them would be unthinkable.

He’d been looking for weeks, and while chasing rats and other small creatures was something, he was hungry. And lonely. None of the wizards had met his standards. He didn’t think they were too high but maybe he’d have to lower them. He slunk down an alleyway. A shadow loomed over him and he skirted back.

“It’s alright kitty.” A young voice said softly. They crouched down in front him and extended a hand. Archie could sense magic in this person and cautiously moved closer. The hand was small but comforting. “Awww poor kitty, you must be hungry.” Archie meowed at him. He was picked up by this person. They were short, most likely a child. They carried him to a small crevice near the city walls, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of town. He was set down next to a small bundle of blankets in a makeshift shelter. Archie looked up at this child. They couldn’t have been more than eleven. They had black hair and yellow eyes. Odd, humans didn’t tend to have yellow eyes. They looked half starved, pale and dark shadows circled their eyes. They shuffled around a little, looking for something before locating it. Rat on a stick. It looked chilled but the boy lit a small blue flame. “It’s not much.” They put the rat in front of Archie. He nibbled at it, finding it not bad.

“Thank you.” Archie said politely. The boy blinked, staring at him wide eyed.

“You... you can talk?” He stuttered. “You’re a talking cat.”

“Talking dragon actually.” Archie corrected. “I can shapeshift.”

“That’s....” The boy started, his eyes were practically sparkling. “That’s so cool!” Archie smiled at the boy. Maybe this was someone worth sticking with.

“I’m a familiar.” Archie explained.

“A what?” The boy asked.

“A familiar.” Archie repeated. “A wizards associate. We bond with wizards and act as their companions. Advisors, friends, even family.” The boy’s eyes had widened even further.

“Are you uh bonded?” He asked, trying to get the right terminology.

“No, I’m currently looking for a wizard.” Archie said. The boy slumped against the wall of his make shift home.

“There aren’t many wizards about.” He said. “At least, none that I’ve met.”

“No master to teach you?” Archie asked. The boy glanced down at the floor.

“If I could, I’d go to Camelot.” He said. “There’s a wizard there, Merlin Ambrosius. I’ve heard he’s one of the most powerful wizards in the world. I want to be taught by him.”

“Why can’t you go to Camelot?” Archie asked, curious.

“It’s really far, I don’t think I’d make the journey.” The boy admitted. Archie nuzzled up against the boy. He looked surprised but stroked Archie. They settled into a cosy sleep.

Archie decided to stick with the boy. He was... nice.

“What’s your name?” The boy asked.

“Archibald.” Archie replied. “But you can call me Archie. And you?”

“Hisirdoux.” The boy said. He scrunched his nose up at it. Archie noticed and wondered if he didn’t like it.

“Too long. What about Douxie?” Archie asked. The boy looked down at him and considered it.

“Douxie.” He repeated. He smiled. “I like it.”

“So Douxie, how would you feel about a familiar?” Archie asked, winding himself around the boys legs.

“You want to bond with me?” Douxie asked in surprise. “Are you sure?”

“No one else fed me.” Archie said slyly. “You seem nice enough. And I’d like to meet this Merlin.”

“You’d be better off going alone.” Douxie said quietly. “I’m not a good wizard.”

“Nonsense. You’re still learning aren’t you?” Archie pointed out. Douxie fiddled with his clothes a little. He didn’t seem reassured. “Douxie, why do you want to be a wizard? You could hide your magic, lead a normal life?”

“Are you kidding?” Douxie asked. “Magic is... it’s wonderful. It’s everything. When I first felt my magic it was so freeing. I felt like I could do anything. To hide it, it wouldn’t be me. Magic is like the vastness of the sky but with the thrill of a lightning storm. You know.” Archie smiled.

“I think I do.” He said, rubbing himself against Douxie. “To you, magic is freedom?”

“Isn’t it to you?” Douxie asked. Archie considered it.

“Yes it is.” He agreed. “And it’s what I want to do. See the world, do as I please.”

“That sounds like a good life.” Douxie sighed.

“Why don’t we go?” Archie asked. Douxie looked down at him.

“Go?”

“I want to travel and you want to meet Merlin.” Archie said. “I think our goals are aligned.”

“So that’s it. We’ve known each other for less than a day and now we’re going on an adventure.” Douxie said.

“I’ll go if you do.” Archie said with a smirk. “Partners?”

“Partners.” Douxie agreed.

[kairos-in-wonderland]

Day 2: Knights in Shining Armour

Right, today’s submission is going to be shorter than yesterday’s 😂 This is actually based on a wip I’m writing (but I have a habit of not writing in chronological order so it’s not being uploaded anywhere) and I thought it would be perfect for day 2, I hope y’all enjoy it!

Pairing: OC/Gwaine

Trigger warnings: violence, attempted kidnapping, strangling (only for a moment)

 .

The princess entered the tavern in one of Camelot’s border villages, taking a glance around at the patrons before taking a seat in the corner of the room. She’d been there not much less than an hour, eating and relaxing after the long ride – but then a man approached her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. She surveyed him out of the corner of her eye, there was a silver snake emblem on his shirt and her pulse immediately quickened. He was one of Cenred’s knights.

“Well, well, well…” he started, leaning on the table, “If it isn’t the little princess of Camelot, fancy seeing you all the way out here.”

“Well, it is part of my kingdom,” she muttered, “but I don’t believe that you live in Camelot,” the princess stood, finally turning to face him, “so, what is one of Cenred’s knights doing this side of the border?”

“Well, I was just here for a drink – but now I’ve got a much better idea,” he said, reaching to touch her face. She slapped it away and reached for her dagger, “ah, you think you can put up a fight?”

“I am the daughter of Uther Pendragon, of course I can put up a fight,” she smirked – the knight drew her sword and she ducked under it, using her dagger to slice across the inside of his arm. The princess managed to disarm him and they continued to fight, but the knight managed to catch her off guard. He took the dagger from her and pinned her against the table with it against her neck.

“Looks like Uther didn’t train you too well,” the knight laughed, just as another man walked towards them.

“Need some help?” he asked, looking to the princess.

“Back off,” the knight muttered; he switched the hand he was holding the dagger in, strangling the princess as he went to slash at the newcomer. But the man was too quick, before the blade even got close to him he had punched the knight square in the face, knocking him back so hard that he knocked himself out on the table behind him. The princess coughed hoarsely as she sat up, clutching her throat.

“I think you’ll be wanting this back,” the man commented, handing her the dagger.

“Yes, and it seems I owe you my life. Thank you,” she said, getting off the table. It was at this point that she finally got a look at him – deep brown hair that flowed down by his shoulders and hazel eyes that shone gold in the light of the candles. He had a sharp jaw line that was speckled with stubble, causing the princess’ pulse to quicken, “I’d buy you a drink but I should be heading home,” he grinned at her and took the knight’s sword.

“Allow me to escort you out then?” he suggested, and she smiled back as they left the tavern together. As they approached her horse, she turned to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “What was that for?”

“For saving my life,” she said, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Gwaine, and you are?”

“Acelina.”

“That man in there, he kept calling you ‘princess’, are you?”

“Yes,” she nodded sheepishly, “and he’s a Knight of Essetir, that’s why he attacked me. My father is an enemy of Cenred’s, it would’ve been good leverage. So, thank you, Gwaine.”

“Perhaps you would let me join you on your ride back home?”

“Have you nothing better to do?” she laughed, and he smiled.

“Nothing better than escorting a beautiful girl to her home,” he smirked, and the princess flushed pink.

“I bet you flirt with every girl you see, Gwaine.”

“No, just you.”

“Alright,” she gave a nervous laugh and nodded before mounting her horse, “I’d appreciate your company, the ride back to the castle takes two days at best.”

“Well then,” he mounted his horse, right next to her own stallion, “let’s hope I can keep you entertained.”

Acelina couldn’t help but grin as she rode towards Camelot with Gwaine, him regaling her with stories of his exploits across the five kingdoms. It was a comforting feeling, having him there with her when they had to camp for the night in the forest of Ascetir, “So, Gwaine, where are you from?”

“Caerleon’s kingdom, my father was one of his knights.”

“You’re of noble birth then?” the princess felt a glimmer of hope at the thought.

“Technically. But I don’t like it. Caerleon didn’t give any help to my mother once she was widowed, left her penniless with a baby and no husband – he has the title but he’s not noble in anyway.”

“When did your father die? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Early enough that I don’t remember a thing about him.”

“I understand, my mother died giving birth to me and my brother. I have this feeling of her, but my father never speaks of her,” she sighed, staring into the flames, “you should get some sleep, I’ll be on watch for now.”

“Okay then, goodnight my lady,” he joked, laying against a tree with his jacket draped over his torso. She couldn’t help but stare at him as he fell asleep – there was something about him that intrigued her, something that she couldn’t quite understand. Acelina spent the few hours of her watch making shapes in the fire, muttering spells under her breath to create different animals in the flames.

When Acelina woke the next day, she realised that Gwaine’s jacket had been draped over her during the night, and she smiled softly as she looked around for him. She couldn’t find him at first but as she cast her eyes to the side she saw him walking towards her, shirt in hand and shaking out his damp hair, “Sorry, went to quickly wash in the stream,” he shoved his shirt on and Acelina stood to hand him his jacket, “you were shivering while you slept, didn’t want you to be cold.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, blushing slightly as she looked up into his eyes. They kept eye contact for a few moments until she nervously cleared her throat and reached for her bag, “uh, have you fed the horses?”

“Yeah, while you were sleeping, thought you’d be eager to get home.”

“Do you honestly think your company is that unpleasant?” she joked, but he looked uneasy, “It’s not, I enjoy your company Gwaine.”

“You’ve only just met me,” he sighed, and she took a step towards him, “I can be a lot to deal with.”

“Well, I like what I’ve seen so far,” she assured him, tentatively reaching up to stroke his cheek, “I think, if you’d let me, I’d like to get to know you properly.”

“Really?” he laughed nervously, and she nodded, “I think you’d be the first,” there was a moment of eye contact, both of them unsure, before Gwaine leaned down to kiss her. Acelina responded eagerly and moved her arms to rest on his shoulders as his hands moved to her waist. When they finally moved apart it was with a deep breath and unmovable grins on each of their faces.

“Now I’m actually kinda glad that knight tried to kidnap me,” Acelina laughed, smiling up at Gwaine, “otherwise I probably wouldn’t have seen you in the tavern.”

“Well, I have to admit, that was a pretty great ‘thank you’ for saving your life,” he smirked, and she slapped his arm, “come on. As much as I’d love to stay here with you, your father will be expecting you home soon. I don’t think we want it to get to the point where he sends out a search party.”

“Okay, we’re just at the edge of the forest so it should only take a couple hours to reach the lower town,” she sighed, and they set about packing up and then riding back to Camelot. Gwaine stopped and dismounted his horse as the castle got closer, “you’re not coming with me to the castle?”

“I don’t think that your father would appreciate you being with a commoner,” he sighed, and she got off her stallion to go over to him.

“Do you really dislike nobility that much?” she asked, trying to mask her disappointment.

“I dislike people who think nobility just comes from the title, that those without a title can’t be noble in the deeds they do,” he explained, taking her hands in his, “You, Acelina, are not like that – you have a good heart. And beautiful eyes,” she laughed and shook her head at him.

“So, I take it that you don’t usually tell people about your father?”

“I’m surprised I even told you,” he admitted, “there’s just something about you that I knew I could trust. I’d like to see you again though.”

“Well, my father likes to send me to the different villages within Camelot quite often, especially in areas that are by his enemies’ borders. I’m expected to instil their loyalty to him, make sure that, if a man like Cenred decides to try and take Camelot’s land, they will only pledge allegiance to him. If you write to me about where you are then I can try to meet you at the closest village to where you are.”

“That sounds perfect,” he grinned, pressing a long, soft kiss to her lips, “I think I’ll travel to Howden, maybe you can meet me there soon?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she assured him, stroking his cheek before getting back on her stallion, “just a thought… Address your letters to Mirabelle, she’s my maid. It’d be a bit suspicious if I was getting letters from someone who isn’t some kind of knight or prince, he cares a lot more about titles than I do.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon, my lady,” he grinned, kissing her hand before she rode off towards the castle.

 .

Once again, please let me know if I’ve missed anything that could potentially be a trigger and I’ll add it to the tags. Happy Camelove! 🥰💜💙

[noxleyfin]

Merlin Imagine: Leon’s Daughter

→ a/n: I don’t know any of the actors personally nor do I own them or their characters. What’s written below is fiction and should be thought of and treated as such. I am essentially using them as a name-claim and face-claim. I’m creating my own character and using the actors as background characters, and just using their name and features for details. I do not directly associate the actors with any ideas used in my writing. This writing is to be used for entertainment and fictional purposes only. → summary: Leon has secret, what happens when he can’t hide it anymore? → warnings: sickness? bad writing → word count: 1.4k → completion:  done → (Y/N) - Your Name

3rd Person POV

Sir Leon…

Easily one of the most well-known and important knights to the kingdom of Camelot. Not just for being one of the Knights of the Round Table, but also training and leading many men in and out of bloody battles. Everyone who knew him trusted him with their life; it was easy to. He was like an open book, no secrets to keep and nothing ever out of order in his life, or so everyone thought.

•••

Thursday, Sometime in Summer 8:48 a.m. [Training Day] 3rd Person POV

Sir Leon’s day wasn’t exactly going to plan. To start, he woke up much later than usual due to getting back from Guard Duty late last night; second, his training knights just weren’t advancing like they were supposed to be. Instead, they sat around and messed around instead of practicing their form. They reminded him of Gwaine in that aspect, but at least he had the decency to eventually quit the jokes and get to work. That led him to 3, the worst thing of all: his daughter was sick and he wasn’t able to get the nice old lady next door to watch her. She was busy with her own sick relative and although she’d expressed her apologies multiple times, Leon was still pretty peeved. 

At the moment, instead of heading to the training fields (like he should have been ten minutes ago), he was sitting on the edge of his daughters cot, stroking her soft hair and mumbling a lullaby under his breath. She’d been sick for a few days but it hadn’t been this bad yet. Leon was ready to take her to Gauis but he didn’t want to risk the questions he would no doubt get from Arthur and the rest of his friends. 

His daughter let out another weak cough and Leon decided against whatever he was just thinking. He carefully reached his arms under her knees and gently lifted her into his arms, adjusting her so she was still wrapped tightly in her blanket. She let on a small whimper and curled into Leon’s chest. 

“It’s alright, (Y/N). We’re going to get you some help,” Leon whispered and made haste for the door on their cottage. 

Once he was outside, he hurriedly strolled down the path. He weaved in between the commoners, ignoring the glances of those who didn’t know of his child while smiling tensely at those who did. Coming through the courtyard gates (while silently thanking that he didn’t have to pass the training field to get there) he made his way through the long corridor and up to Merlin and Gauis’ chambers. 

“Gauis!” He called, promptly startling the old man who was mixing a tincture of some sort. 

He turned after he’d recovered from his brief moment of shock and was confused to see Sir Leon standing in his doorway holding a bundle and looking quite anxious. 

“Sir Leon!” He exclaimed, “Shouldn’t you be at training? What’s that?” Gauis inquired.

“Oh Gauis, you’ve got to help me. It’s my daughter. Please.” Leon set the bundle down and pulled the blanket back to reveal a little girl who looked deathly pale. 

Gauis immediately went straight into ‘Physician Mode,’ completely ignoring the ‘daughter’ part, knowing it was a secondhand issue that could be discussed later. He poked and prodded at the little girl, trying to figure out what was wrong when he discovered it.

“It’s nothing serious-” Gauis was cut off by a loud sigh of relief but nonetheless, continued, “However, it’s not something that will go away in a day. I’d like to keep her here until it passes through. Is that alright, Sir Leon?” He finished, staring at the terror-stricken father. 

“Uh yes, yes that’s alright.” Leon responded absentmindedly; he was too busy keeping an eye on his daughter (whose chest was rising and falling at an unsteady pace). 

“I’ll look after her now. Shouldn’t you be off to training?” Gauis asked.

That seemed to snap Leon out of his trance. 

“Oh bloody hell,” he cursed. “Arthur’s going to kill me! Thank you so much Gauis. I’ll see you later.” With a swift kiss to (Y/N)’s head, he was out the door and sprinting towards the training grounds. 

•••

When he finally arrived, he knew he was in for it. No one held a sword and none of the training dummies were set up to train with. Leon’s training knights weren’t even on the field; the only one’s there were Arthur, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, and obviously, Merlin. They were standing in the middle of the field talking when they heard the distant sound of footsteps and turned around. 

“Sir Leon!” Arthur called ‘cheerfully.’ “What brings you here today?”

“Ehm, just training, Milord.” Leon responded with audible nervousness in his voice.

“If I remember correctly, training started nearly half an hour ago, did it not?”

“It did, Milord,” Leon said, defeated. 

“So why in the hell are you late to training?!” Arthur snapped causing the poor man to nearly jump out of his skin. 

“I know there’s no excuse, Sire, but-,” Leon was cut off by Arthur. 

“You’re damn right there’s no excuse but if you must, go ahead. Out with it Sir Leon.” Arthur waved his hand in a ‘say it’ motion. 

Leon knew this was the time but he wasn’t ready. Sure, Merlin would no doubt find out later when he returned to his chambers, but he didn’t want everyone to find out. 

He stared at the Knights looking like a gaping fish. Lancelot began to get concerned. This wasn’t the brave leader he once knew. The man in front of him looked terrified to say the wrong thing, very unlike his Leon.

He walked forward and clapped Leon on the shoulder, speaking gently to him, “What is it Leon? I’ve never seen you this nervous before.” He asked, his concern growing more and more as more silence rang out. 

“Well I uhm, uh,” Leon rubbed his face and gathered himself, putting on his stern, knight facade before he spoke almost steadily, “I was taking care of my daughter.”

Silence rang out and Lancelot’s hand dropped from his shoulder as a result of his shock. Arthur looked astonished, Percival and Elyan were gawking from where they stood, Merlin’s eyes went so wide Leon was afraid they would fall right out of their sockets, while Gwaine just looked downright offended. 

“Daughter?!” Arthur just managed to choke out before he went silent again. 

Leon nodded. “Yes, my daughter. I had just taken her to Gauis and-,” and for the second time today, he was cut off, this time by Merlin.

“Wait, why did you have to take her to Gauis? Is she sick?” He asked worriedly. 

Leon nodded grimly. 

“Leon…I, I’m sorry for my behavior towards you. It was not right for me to scold you like that.” Arthur apologized but it sounded far more awkward than anything. 

“It’s alright, Arthur.” Leon decided to drop the formalities. “If you don’t mind, I would like to go check on how she’s doing?” He asked hopefully. 

Arthur nodded. “Of course, Sir Leon.” 

Leon smiled and began to back away towards the opening in the fence. Before he got too far away, he called over his shoulder, “You can come meet her if you want.”

Before he knew it, 5 knights and a servant were following behind him like a crowd flaunting their king. 

Soon, they’d reached the door to Gauis’ chambers and quietly made their way inside when Leon reminded them that his daughter might be sleeping.

“Papa!” Was the first thing they heard when the door opened. 

While Leon continued forward, the rest of them held back to take in the sight. A little girl,  not much older than a toddler lay on the patient’s cot with a small rag on her head and a bucket of water next to the bed. They immediately noticed the similarities between Leon and this girl from the shape of their eyes to the identical smile that lit up both of their faces when they saw each other. 

“Hello, Love,” Leon called gently as he sat on the bed next to her, comfortingly stroking her like he did this morning. “Papa wants you to meet his friends, okay?”

The girl nodded and stared at the men herded together by the door like a group of chickens about to be sat on the chopping block.

“Boys-,” Leon addressed his friends, “This is my daughter, (Y/N). (Y/N), these are my friends: Arthur, Gwaine, Lancelot, Percival, Elyan, and Merlin. They are the knights that I train with everyday.” 

Leon introduced the two groups to each other but no one said a word until Gwaine (That Stupid Bastard™) sauntered forward like he was the talk of the town, threw a hand down on Leon’s shoulder, and asked, “So... who’s the unlucky lady?”

[hall-of-merlin2]

Magic, Monsters and Merthur - 1x03 - (Magic)

Been a while, hasn’t it?

Alright so I totally forgot to post the two other parts for this episode. I just put so much into the Merthur part that I... kind of got sick? Blergh, that was awful.

Magic is way more fun! A little recap.

Two prophecies for the world, we got the bad timeline. Magic is a living Being that blessed humans, but humans didn’t like that it didn’t give them god-like powers over all of nature, so they made their own blessings purely out of spite and they fought something that shouldn’t even be fight-able, or even like... physical, and won.

What the Episodes taught us.

1x01 - Teleportation is a thing, but is apparently complicated. Veil spells - covering ones form with a look that deceives human eyes, but not the world. Dragons were so fancy they re-purposed Druidspeak to turn it into Dragonspeak - a similarly echo-y way of communication. Imagine snapping your fingers to a tune and doing magic at the same time. A dream scenario, but nothing to confirm such an amazing possibility. Merlin is resistant to sleep magic, or in other words, enchantment magic (Stuff that puts people under a spell, different from amulets that put people under a spell.). Amulets can be shattered - they can break under a certain amount of force applied and the spells they were keeping alive break at the same time. Quite a useful way to render a sorcerer harmless.

1x02 - Human lives are not higher than those of animals - I refuse to accept anything else, and I made up a whole theory of how the Cup of Life doesn’t take lives, just life-force, which every living being has, to continue my theory. Which means that any life is worth another’s life, even a flower’s, and making dead material into living things is a trend that just keeps going.

Let’s see what bullshit the afanc can do!

<_><_><_>

<_><_><_>

00:40

(Wow thanks subtitles…)

Anyway if you’ve heard it, then you know it’s similar to what Merlin used to revive stone. So it’s the same spell with little variations depending on what material you’re using.

Apparently, I WAS A GODDAMN FOOL FOR THINKING THAT.

I was going to somehow find the spell that Nimueh used here and then put it through a translator to see what it meant, but some very dedicated people on the wiki have already done that for me.

Yes, there is a Merlin Wiki, there’s a wiki for everything but I was just shocked how much information it held on everything…

And… The only difference is Nimueh calls the afanc “ancient” or “old” and Merlin just skips that and tells the stone to wake up already (as you do).

It WOULD have been fun if there was ONE spell that made DEAD material ALIVE, but it CHANGED based on what MATERIAL you USED.

But no. Clay is more ancient than stone. That’s all.

*Writes this down on “Reasons I’m adding to the magic”*

<_><_><_>

01:45

Those rocks look familiar.

Because of that… not even fact, I used to think that Nimueh was just hiding out in one of Camelot’s deepest caves, very far away so no one could find her. Dumb idea, but imagine how many creatures would reside in these caves if they really were that large? Unending magical creatures attacks from somewhere underneath Camelot and the knights having to storm some “stronghold” of the creatures – that’s a whole episode!

<_><_><_>

16:36

Yeah… I’m not gonna try to explain how the hell healing spells work. Mostly because… I’m not sure the sorcerers know themselves.

Are there magical herbs at all? Or are simple herbs given better healing qualities through the use of magic? Are the herbs there as a placebo and healing magic doesn’t need anything but the incantations that all other magic needs?

There is one type of healing magic that I CAN explain, but that’s… Oh boy that’s in another season, and only relevant there.

But does any of this matter, really? Should we just accept that spells are spells and leave it at that?

I wanna leave it at that. It’s way more fun just thinking of what ways those spells can be used.

(I know that the whole point of this part of the re-watch is to try and fill in the gaps that the show left, but... Spells and what they do have always been iffy for me. I don’t like them, I don’t even know why. I like “silent” spells, or magic that you can do without speaking, I actually have no good reason for why I like that more and hate spoken spells and spells with rituals and specific materials.

Oh wait I did say why I hate them... But who read that rant anyway?

Not me, apparently.)

<_><_><_>

33:25

Oh no this line spiraled yet another theory.

This is taken from my “Too many reasons to hate Kilgharrah”, a book that I’m not sure when I’ll release since paper is scarce.

(I also think that everything Kilgharrah does is to somehow manipulate Merlin and get him to trust him.)

(Oh and assuming innocent and meaning-nothing lines have actually incredible meaning and are definitely hiding something is… The basis of this whole theory, I’m only staying in-character.)

***

Kilgharrah already knew of the afanc before Merlin came to him. Yes, you could say that Merlin hadn’t come to him before, so his advice on how to defeat it isn’t just another attempt to get the warlock to rely on him, but how did Kilgharrah know? If the dungeon he’s trapped in is connected to the other dungeons and the one Nimueh is doing her thing in, and the chain is long enough for him to reach and see her, why didn’t he call Merlin the moment he found out? A creature of his knowledge knows what the afanc does and he knows Camelot is in grave danger, what was he waiting for? For someone important to Merlin to die? Was he just petty and thought that half of Camelot getting destroyed was funny? What if it would have deterred Merlin further from him, make him leave Camelot, did this lizard really not think of that? Did he want Nimueh’s plan to succeed? Does Kilgharrah feel any kind of attachment to Nimueh? She is of the Old Religion. Maybe he feels that they are kin and he doesn’t wish for her plan to fail.

And if this has nothing to do with Nimueh at all and he doesn’t even know she still exists, then what reason would he have to withhold information? If he felt the afanc moving through the water, why didn’t call to Merlin and warn him? No excuse.

But when Merlin comes by, he has no choice. He tells him how to beat the afanc, but says nothing about Nimueh. He probably knows that she’s smart and she will see what Merlin is capable of and… who knows what she’ll attempt next.

Kilgharrah is willing to bet she doesn’t want to kill Merlin.

(ALSO MERLIN COULD HAVE KILLED THE AFANC HIMSELF, BUT OF COURSE, LET’S TRY TO HAMMER HOME THE IDEA THAT HIM AND ARTHUR ARE SUPPOSED TO BE WORKING TOGETHER EVEN MORE SO MERLIN COMES TO TERMS WITH THE IDEA THAT HE HAS TO BE A SERVANT ALL HIS LIFE.)

***

That bit about Nimueh being of the Old Religion and Kilgharrah sort of… being an accomplice of hers, it…

It made me think that the dragons and the Old Religion used to be connected.

And with how Kilgharrah manipulates Merlin and then how Nimueh is a slave to prophecies – that’s probably because the dragon told her of the prophecies.

I think that the dragons used to rule over the members of the Old Religion.

Why not, right> Dragons are powerful, they’re knowledgeable, why not turn a few puny humans to their side? It would help to know more things, and it would stroke their egos just a bit more.

I’ve literally no basis for this idea, but knowing that Dragonlords exist, it makes you think.

Why would dragons allow/need humans to speak to them? I honestly don’t think that Dragonlords are natural. Commanding dragons? Humans? What about eggs hatching? Why the fuck couldn’t an egg just… hatch like all other eggs do? How is a dragon’s soul equal to a human’s – the two don’t even have similar magic among them! Their bodies decay differently, their thinking is different, how can the two’s souls be considered brothers if the human part of the soul retains no memories of past reincarnations? It’s like it’s a new soul, and the thing that’s actually passed down after death (HOW COULD IT BE A SOUL THAT’S PASSED DOWN IF A PERSON WAS PERFECTLY FIND WITHOUT THIS QUESTIONABLE GIFT UP UNTIL THEIR FATHER DIED?) is just a type of magic. A very specific type of magic, that’s coded to only be passed down this way, and to work in the way that it’s described – a dragon’s soul is felt like that of a sibling’s.

I think… I think that Dragonlords were a thing created by the Old Religion sometime after dragons tried to rule over them. This caused the tables to turn, and suddenly the Old Religion had knowledge of the Draconic prophecies, which Nimueh actually seems to follow.

This is far-fetched, obviously. The two prophecy sets were far-fetched. But I’m nothing if not a stubborn believer in going big or going home.

And oh boy the documents of text for each episode each have like… 5k+ words. It doesn’t count the screencaps, otherwise, the character number would be in the hundred thousands.

I am not even halfway of going big.

<_><_><_>

35:25

So the afanc is a beast born of clay, needs considerable power to be conjured, and we all know Merlin has enough power to do that so the stone-resurrecting is not ooc. Exudes some sort of toxic waste from its body that drains the life force of everything that has any (which is everything, apart from non-organic stuff – includes glass, stone, rock that formed incredibly long ago and leather, etc.), but it takes a few days for it to finish what it starts in the first burst of draining. It is defeated by using fire and wind, the two of the four base elements the afanc isn’t made out of.

(We never heard of elements again though. There are some fire spells, but if this type of effective-against-one-weak-against-another thing is going on, then certain alchemy is conducted every time you cast these spells. Water extinguishes fire, fire eats up wind(oxygen), wind… erodes? Earth?, earth… Yeah no, it’s the other way around. Water extinguishes fire, fire scorches earth, earth… takes over wind? Doesn’t leave space for it to move? And air just carries water around so the little droplets get separated and can’t form something stronger. Yeah, that sounds better.

The other way around is empowering then, I guess. Or… making different elements? Wind picks up the earth, making it more impactful in the air current,  earth… turns into… lava… because of the heat? Fire… makes water vapor? And water… gets inbetween the air and also makes it more impactful? I don’t know… NOT ENOUGH INFO DAMMIT. AND THAT’S SAYING SOMETHING SINCE I’VE SPUN AN ENTIRE NEW UNIVERSE FROM LIKE 2 EPISODES OF THIS SHIT. THIS IS DISAPPOINTING LEVELS OF LOW INFO.)

<_><_><_>

The Merthur

The Monster

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Thank you for tagging me, @randomramblingsbymyself

Rules: Tag 9 people with excellent taste

Colour(s) I’m Currently Wearing: grey pajamas, and a red blanket

Last Band I saw live: Fallout Boy at Jingleball last year. But my fave performance that night was Kesha.

Last song I listened to: Hallelujah by Lindsey Stirling. It’s on my list of potential skating songs. It’ll probably get rotated out soon, because I don’t think I’ll ever have the chance to do a Christmas themed program. But I do like the sound of it.

Chapstick or Lipstick: Both! My lips are continuously chapped because of the time I spend on the ice, and I’m constantly losing/forgetting my chapsticks everywhere, so I have a chapstick for every area of my life. Work, home, purse, and skate bag. I used to stay away from strong lip colors because I’m incredibly fair-skinned and they always seemed to stick out too much, but lately I’ve taken a leaf out of Miss Katie McGrath’s book and just started owning it. She’s right-- reds do look fabulous. 

Last Movie I watched: Jurassic World 2. What an absolute waste. I mean, I didn’t exactly have high hopes for it after the first one, but somehow I managed to come out of it feeling absolutely nothing. At least the last one I had some rage to work with.

Last 3 tv shows I watched: I’m going to assume that re-watches don’t count, since I tend to go back to the same favorites over and over again when I have the rare hour to kill. So if we’re talking new content, then...

1) Queer Eye. I cannot express how much love I have for these men and the positivity they’re putting out into the world. Now I just need a team of lesbians to come make me over and get me a girlfriend.

2) Camelot. I’ve been renting the discs from Netflix and I have to say it’s somehow worse than Merlin in terms of enjoyment. I mean, the story is a little stronger, but it’s just kind of boring? And I love Eva Green, but her turn as Morgan just lacks the nuance I expected. I don’t really know her motivation, and I’m not convinced she does either. Plus it’s hard for me to sympathize with someone who doesn’t have any genuine moments to speak of. Morgana was entirely genuine, even in her darkest moments, but Morgan is all performative subversion. I can officially say I prefer Katie McGrath’s interpretation to Eva Green’s.

3) Supergirl. This is actually the only show I watch live. Ever. Everything else is Netflix or disc.

Last YouTube Video I watched:  I think it was either a Moves in the Field Instructional video, or else that one video of a hummingbird trying to drink out of a man’s orange hunting cap (which I showed to my dad recently, because he freaking loves hummingbirds). 

3 Characters I Identify With:  

Okay, this one is tricky, because as a gay girl I never knew if I latched onto characters as a kid because I identified with her or because she was pretty. Even as an adult that line is mighty hazy. But I’ll do my best...

1) Maggie Sawyer. And not in a good way. How she initially reacted to Alex’s coming out and date invite felt really similar to how my first relationship ended, and I absolutely hated her because in this close resemblance, I was the Maggie, not the Alex. It was like holding up a mirror and I just wanted to scratch her eyes out for it. But in the end, that part of S2 prompted me to cllear the air with my ex and now we’re still good friends, so it ended up being a healing experience.

2) Keladry of Mindelan, from Tamora Pierce’s Tortall universe. Keladry was a girl out to prove herself, and went after her goals with single-minded purpose. That spoke to me in a deep way, as someone who gravitated to male-dominated environments where I felt constantly tested. And you know what? She showed every single one of her naysayers wrong, so the joke’s on them (and mine too).

3) Lena Luthor. This is one that really blurs the line between identification and infatuation. Beause on the surface, Lena and I have nothing in common. I’m not rich, I don’t run a company, and I’m not particularly smart. Clever, maybe, but the smarts got fried on my second heat stroke. Honestly the fair skin and dark hair is the closest overt similarity we share. Maybe I could count the work ethic and the tendency to jump into new things with both feet before I ever stop to think about the consequences. 

And yet the draw I feel towards her is more powerful than any other character on the show... including Alex during her gay awakening. 

I think part of it is that my understanding of Lena’s character has been significantly enhanced by fandom, and the stories that explore all the nasty things about myself that I see hints of onscreen. Her relationship with Lex, possible anxiety/depression... that sort of thing is something I accept about her, and as a result I accept it in myself. 

Books I’m Currently Reading:  I have been about a quarter of the way through The Lies of Locke Lamora for about 6 months, and I have no idea when I’ll ever get back to it. I want to, because it’s good, but with books like that I like to have time set aside so I can read in big chunks, and that’s simply a thing I don’t often have. Even fanfiction is hit or miss these days. Between two jobs and skating, it’s come down to an issue of “if I have time to read, I have time to write” and writing often takes precedence. 

I have an entire bookshelf of books to read though. They run the gamut in terms of genre, but are all equal in their status of “maybe next time.”

Tagging: @nerdyfancupcake, @flowellch, @missmisanthropic, @morallyconflictedcharacters, and any others who want to join in! It’s free to play.

[supercalvin]

Ficlet prompt. A young prince Merlin pranks his crush prince Arthur.

I want to come back to this so bad but I still have other ficlets to write. I might come back anon because kid!fics are awesome.

Welcome to my thesis on ‘Why Merlin Is A Little Shit.’

*

Prince Merlin, Dragonlord, son of King Balinor of Avalon, andEmrys, prophesied savior to all people of magic, was on a time out.

Sat on a small stool, facing the corner, and bored beyondbelief, was Prince Merlin. He was a small boy, only eight years old, with roundcheeks and curling brown hair that his mother called a bird’s nest. He wore ablue robe, speckled with dark brown mud.

He was too old for time outs, in his opinion. But his Dadhad told him it wasn’t a time out. Instead he had told his son that he shouldbe thinking about what he had done, and how he should have done thingsdifferently. It was wise advice, but Merlin was eight and he didn’t much care.

He let his arms fall to his sides and wiggled them about sothey swung. There wasn’t much else to do when one was staring at a dusty castlecorner. He popped his lips a couple times and giggled quietly at the noise. Hewasn’t supposed to be giggling though. That’s what got him in trouble in thefirst place.

Well, that wasn’t quite right. He had gotten in troublebecause he had been giggling at Wart.

Wart was an older boy who had come to visit Avalon a weekago. He was two years older than Merlin, but he had yet to hit his growthspurt, so he was only a few inches taller and his baby fat still clung to him.He had yellow hair and he laughed very loudly. He was very good atplay-fighting already, whereas Merlin had yet to be taught any fightinglessons. His mother said he was too young to learn to fight and so was PrinceArthur but he wasn’t her son so it wasn’t up to her. Merlin wasn’t sure whatthat meant, but his mother glared a lot at Wart’s father, so she figured it wassomething to do with him.

Wart was one of the other King’s sons, so that also made hima prince, but Merlin didn’t much care about those sorts of things. He alsodidn’t care about calling Arthur by his name because Arthur sounded weird and Merlinmuch preferred to call him Wart, because it made Wart’s face red and he usuallychased Merlin if he did so, which was always great fun.

Merlin had convinced Wart to come play with him in thestream near Avalon castle. Merlin liked to catch frogs there and he thoughtWart would enjoy it. Wart told him he could catch bigger frogs than Merlin evercould. Merlin didn’t care about the size of the frog- he just wanted to catchone- but Wart had an obsession with competition. Anyways, Merlin had caught afrog and Wart hadn’t, which is where it all went downhill. Merlin pretendedthere was a frog in one of the bushes and while Wart was bent over looking forit, Merlin stuck his own frog down Wart’s tunic. It was all in fun, but Warthad fallen into the water and then the Camelot knights appeared and now Merlin’sfather was very cross with him.

His father said that Merlin had to play nice with Arthur,even if he didn’t like him. But Merlin did like Wart! No one seemed to believehim though. Merlin just…didn’t know how to be friends with him. Wart likedfighting and Merlin liked playing with his toy animals. Wart talked about beinga solider, while Merlin wanted to talk about magic. They were both princes, butfrom what Merlin had seen, being a Prince in Camelot was very different frombeing a Prince in Avalon.

“Times up, my son.”  Merlinturned to see his mother in the doorway. He gave her a coy smile. She glared athim. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“I shouldn’t stick frogs in other people’s tunics?” Merlinasked tentatively.

Merlin could tell she was trying not to laugh. He grinned ather and she broke. “You silly boy.” She leaned down and kissed his hair. “You knowyou have to apologize to Arthur.”

“I know.” Merlin rolled his eyes.

His mother guided him down the hall, making sure he stood infront of the chambers where the visiting royals were staying.

Wart opened the door, and upon seeing Merlin’s mother, hebowed. “Your majesty.”

“Your highness, Merlin has come to apologize for hisbehavior.” Merlin’s mother stroked Merlin’s hair, giving him a final look, andthen left them alone.

Merlin entered the chambers, glad to see they were empty.The King of Camelot scared him.

“I’m sorry about the frog. And that you fell in the water.”Merlin said, looking at his feet.

Wart huffed. “I don’t know why you always have to bother meso much.”

Merlin frowned, “It’s for fun. I wouldn’t have minded if youstuck a frog down my tunic.”

“Really?” Wart asked.

“Yeah. I was only playing.” Merlin insisted, trying to makeWart understand. “I want to be your friend.”

Wart tilted his head to the side. Merlin wondered if Wart knewhow to play. There were not a lot of kids roaming around Avalon castle, soMerlin usually played with the serving boys or with the kids at his tutor’shome. But Merlin remembered one time when he had asked Arthur to come play withthe other kids, the King of Camelot had stopped him, saying it was beneath hisson. Merlin wasn’t sure what he meant, but he didn’t like his tone. It was justfor fun, after all.

Merlin shifted from one foot to another. “We could play agame. One where we do one thing you like and then we do one thing I like. Whatdo you like to do?”

Wart seemed hesitant, but intrigued by Merlin’s offer. “Wecan play hide and seek?”

Merlin perked up, because he also liked that game. Theyended up playing inside the chambers, switching between who was hiding back andforth, until it became a game of tag, and they were squealing and runningaround the room like mad.

Thus, a friendship was born.

[imgilmoregirl]

AO3 LINK

Notes:  I'm so sorry about the delay with the chapters and the complete lack of updates for other fics. I have a new idea I really want to use for an One-Shot, I just have to find the right time to write now. But wait for it soon.

Also, thank you so much for the votes in the Finish This <3.

Chapter 4

Even having cancelled his long trip to Camelot, Rumplestiltskin had to go out to make deals sooner or later. He cast protection spells all around the Dark Castle and made sure that Belle had everything she could need right in her reach, meals appearing for her in the dining table and the dust got cleaned with magic, saying she was completely forbidden of doing any kind of work there.

Their relationship was going slowly, but they were managing to work things out. Along the next month, they shared long conversations and spent some time making out. He left twice for fast deals that only took him a day or two, going out for the third time on the day before.

Belle was walking around the library, some books in hand, feeling really frustrated. Her body changes and cravings were irritating her more than she could ever tell, her breasts were fuller and aching, forcing her to untighten the laces of her bodice a little more each day. Lemon pie was the only thing she could think about eating. And worse than that, her inner thighs were so sensitive that she was just about to beg Rumplestiltskin to touch her.

The only thing she really appreciated about that was the baby bump starting to show, her belly no longer flat, but slightly curved. Since the day she had discovered that she was with child, her dreams were divided between cute babies and fantasies with Rumple. Placing the books on a table, Belle shook her head at herself thinking that she should find a way to free her mind from those thoughts. It would just help if she wasn't so eager for his touch.

She bit her lip, passing her fingers through the cover of a book and placing a hand on her stomach. Yesterday she had read that being with child sometimes caused these strong desires. "Look at what you're doing to me." Belle told the baby. "I shouldn't be thinking about those things!"

In an attempt to distract herself, she found a book about childbirth to read, even though she didn’t like the subject, she felt like she needed to gather all the information she could, because afterall it would be something inevitable for her. Sooner or later, the baby would have to come out.

The maid spent the whole day in the library, just going downstairs for dinner and then coming right back. By that time, her whole body was aching in some way. Belle undid more the laces of her bodice, a little breathless with the nuisance it was causing, that was when she decided she had enough of that day and went to her chambers, changing the blue dress for her nightgown. She thought that the sooner she went to bed and slept, the sooner the next day would come and she would see Rumple again.

A noise came from the end of the hallway, making Belle jump, startled and scared. No sounds should come from any part of the castle, but where she was, because she was supposed to be alone.

"There is somebody in here." Belle whispered to herself and the baby, caressing her belly with shaking hands.

She went out of her chambers, barefoot and took one of the torches from its place, using it as a weapon and followed the next sound of something hitting the floor. It was coming from Rumplestiltskin's chambers.

Her heart raced and she opened the door putting the torch in front of herself, only to let it fall when she saw Rumplestiltskin. Belle screamed, fire starting to burn the carpet before his magic extinguish it.

"Are you mad? What were you trying to do?" He asked, looking at her in disbelief.

"I - I thought that someone was in here."

"Yeah, me, obviously!"

Her lip trembled. "I - I'm sorry."

"Oh, no, don't start crying, sweetheart. It's alright, you were alone and scared, I understand."

The hormones had gotten her crying at the most unexpected moments and she knew that the last thing he wanted was to make her all teary and sad. Rumplestiltskin cupped her face with both hands and brushed their lips together.

"How are you feeling today?" He asked.

"In pain."

A scared expression crossed his face and his hands palmed her belly. "There is something wrong with the baby?"

"No, it's my body. Everything aches."

Belle pulled away, feeling herself shiver at the mention of her discomfort. She slipped into his bed under his watch.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to talk, but as I said, I'm aching and tired, so stop complaining and join me."

Rolling his eyes, Rumplestiltskin took a moment to take off his boots and then laid by her side, wrapping his arm around her waist and letting her cuddle against him.

"I can work on a potion for your pain tomorrow." He offered.

“I would be really thankful if you do so.” She bumped their noses together, giggling a little, before continuing: “Did you make that deal?”

“Of course.”

Belle trailed a hand over his neck and cheek, the familiar texture of his skin warming the tips of her fingers, their eyes at the same level, as they crawled together into the bed in peace. Stroking his face with her thumb, until it was placed on his lower lip, she asked: “And do you have a story to tell me?”

“Aye, do you want to hear it now or later?”

“Later.” Closing the gap between them, Belle kissed him softly. "I'm really tired and uncomfortable, I just want this day to be over."

She rested her head on his shoulder, his hand running over her arm in a kind of tender touch that no person would ever guess the Dark One could do. Belle had found a side of him that nobody had ever seen before and every time he let one of his wall fall down, she loved him even more.

"Wore your bodice too tight, didn’t you?" Rumplestiltskin asked.

"No, of course, not. But I'm sure that in time I won't manage to fit in that dress anymore."

If she was uncomfortable now that she had barely started showing, Belle imagined what was expected of her in the next few months. She hadn’t seen many pregnant women in her life, because in her lands, confinement was an obligatory thing and just now she understood why. Being with child was wonderful, but in the bad days, it was really a hard challenge.

"So I will buy you new gowns.” Rumple promised. “What more? Did you have any cravings?"

Belle shrugged. "I probably ate all the lemon pie your magic could make appear."

"Well that's a good thing. At least now you're eating."

"Yeah, your potion for nausea really worked."

Although she wanted to remain there during the whole night, Belle was just waiting for the moment that he would tell her to leave. For some reason Rumplestiltskin never allowed her to stay in his room for long, she barely entered there since the day their baby was conceived and she felt lucky that he hadn’t told her to go to back to her chambers yet. Even if her body had a million ideas of what it wanted to do there, the only thing the maid really wanted was to cuddle with him for a little while.

"And lemon pie is the only thing you are craving for now? Or is there anything else that you want? I can make all type of food appear for you.”

A smile grew on her lips as she traced the lines of his black leather waistcoat. His concern was something she appreciated very, very much. "I'm sticking with lemon pie, thank you. But if you really want to help me I suggest you work on a second potion tomorrow."

"For what?"

Her cheeks flushed. Belle wished to keep her insane need for herself, but she also wanted to stop it from growing impossibly irresistible, so she explained without meeting his eyes: "I'm kind of having this increasing desire inside me and it is not going away."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Belle repeated. "It is really bothering me, so if you can make a potion to end it, then it would really help, otherwise I think I'll go crazy."

Rumplestiltskin cleared his throat a little and lowered his gaze, catching her chin in hand to made her look at him. Belle was so red with embarrassment that her face almost matched the bed covers.

"You know you can smooth this ache by yourself, don't you?"

"What are you suggesting?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Your fingers can work the same way as mine."

Her jaw dropped and she stared at him like he was completely crazy. Not that she hadn’t thought about doing it before, because she did, but always reconsidered that option, because she concluded that she would feel really weird doing this. It seemed pointless. Her body needed a certain touch, but she only wanted one if it was accompanied by love.

"Rumple!” She shouted out, sitting on the bed, eyes widened. “Gods, if you don't want to touch me, it's alright, I wasn't even asking, but I'm definitely not going to do that!"

"I would have no problem in doing this for you, but we agreed to take it easy and there is nothing wrong with ending your suffering on your own."

Rolling her eyes, the maid stood up. "I'm not that desperate. Actually, I think I'm going to sleep."

“Belle -” He called, sitting up on the bed.

“Goodnight, Rumplestiltskin.”

…

Two days after that, they were in the dining hall in the middle of the afternoon, Rumplestiltskin sitting by his spinning wheel and Belle on the chaise, a pile of books by her side. She was definitely feeling better, his potions had worked pretty well, though they hadn’t vanished the symptoms of her pregnancy completely like she wished they did, but now her discomfort was somewhat acceptable.

The maid closed the book she had on her lap, looking up at her lover as he spun straw into gold.

“Can you tell me a story?” She asked, sweetly.

Rumplestiltskin raised an eyebrow at her, his hands still working on the wheel. “Aren’t your books entertaining enough?”

“They are, but I wanted to hear about something real.”

It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining with almost no clouds to cover it up, the breeze fresh and wonderful, making Belle want to venture herself outside the castle, but she wasn’t even allowed to go wash clothes on the river anymore, so she wanted a story to fill her soul.

“And what exactly do you want to hear about then, dearie?” The imp questioned, leaving his golden strips aside and turning to face her.

“First, can you please stop calling me dearie?”

“Why?”

Belle shrugged her shoulders. She loved the fact that dearie was his word, because it sounded amazing in his deep accent, but she hated to be called that. “When you do that I feel like I’m nothing to you. You call everybody dearie, especially when people are annoying you.”

“Well, that’s true.” He took a moment to think before speaking again. “Are you fine with me calling you sweetheart at least?”

She smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I like that one. It makes me feel special.”

“It does. I don’t ever call anyone else that.”

In fact, she never ever heard him calling anybody that. When somebody appeared in the Dark Castle desperate for a deal, he always called the guest dearie, even when the person was someone he knew for a long time and was somewhat close to. That made her feel good. There was no other person like her in the Dark One’s life, she was now his lady and the mother of his child.

“What about my story?” Belle recalled, still smiling.

“You haven’t told me what you want to hear yet.”

The maid bit her lip, unsure if she should cross the line she was about to, but her curiosity won her internal battle as always. “Baelfire.”

“My son?” Rumplestiltskin asked, stupefied.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because he was important to you and I hope that someday when you find him, I can get to know your boy.”

He seemed lost, a little haunted, his eyes fixed on her, however appearing to be seeing something that wasn’t there. Maybe he was having a flashback from old memories or maybe he was just sad and hurt to even talk about his long lost son.

“A long time ago,” Rumplestiltskin started hesitantly “when I was only a common man, there was a war happening just like the one your lands were facing and I was recruited to fight in it, but a seer told me that my wife was with child and my actions in battle would leave my boy fatherless, so I injured myself to be sent home.”

Belle pressed a hand to her heart in shock. “You hurt yourself?”

“Yes. I was abandoned by my father when I was a child and didn’t want my son to grow up without his father like I did.”

“Oh, Rumple -” her eyes were filled with tears and one of her hands came to rest on her little baby bump, suddenly very conscious of all the responsibilities of being a mother.

“When I came back and held him in my arms, I knew that I had done the right thing. But things got difficult, I became a cripple, a coward, my wife hated me. Baelfire was the only thing I had.”

“If he mattered so much to you, how did you ended up choosing your power over him?”

His gaze met hers, his fingers drumming the wood of his stool. She noticed that he had a thing with his hands, he couldn’t stop moving them, mainly when he was nervous about something.

“Dark magic is addicting, Belle, it becomes a crutch you can’t walk without. I got these powers to save him from the war, but when magic started to corrupt me and Bae found a way to free me, I stepped back. He fell through a portal that would lead him to a land without magic.”

“This land is far away from here?”

“Aye.” He admitted sadly. “I’ve spent a long time trying to find a way to reach him, but I haven’t found it yet.”

Standing up, Belle walked towards him and sat by his side, caressing his thigh and stroking his hair, while giving him the most hopeful look she had ever wore in her life. “You will.” She assured.

“I fear that when I do, he’s not going to forgive me.” He said with a sigh.

“Rumple, you made a mistake, but you love him and you’re trying to get him back. When you find Baelfire, it may take some time, but I’m sure he will forgive you.”

Cupping her cheek, he kissed her forehead, gratefully. “Thank you, darling Belle, for your kindness.”

Hiding her face on his neck, Belle clutched him, inhaling his scent, happy to be able to find out more about him each day. She grabbed his hand in hers, leading it to her stomach and felt his thumb making circles in her skin, through the fabric of her dress.

“How do you think Bae will react when he finds out he has a little brother or sister?”

“I think he’ll be fine with that. Baelfire always wanted a sibling, but this was something he was never going to get from his mother and I.”

Pulling away, the maid asked: “What happened to her? Milah?”

His face darkened. “She is dead.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Not for her.”

Whatever had happened between Rumple and his ex-wife Milah, she knew it wasn’t good, afterall he had told her that the woman hated him. Belle concluded that these should had been difficult times for him and she wished to be to Rumple, everything Milah never could. She would do her best, even if she never became his wife like the other woman once was, she was going to be a good lady and a great mother.

Thinking about that, Belle remembered the things her maids used to teach her in her father’s castle and had an idea. “Rumple, when you’re out for your next deal, can you bring me some white soft fabric? And maybe some thread?”

“Sure, what for?”

“I want to try sew up something for the baby. I was never too good at that, but I feel like I should.”

He gave her a bright smile. “Whatever you want.”

“Thank you.” She said with an equally radiant smile, then her eyes set on the kitchen and her mouth watered. “Do you know what would be really great right now? Blackberries.”

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. “You’re really having an issue with all those fruits. Lemon, oranges, pineapples and now blackberries.”

“I love fruits.”

“So it seems.” He waved a hand a basked full of blackberries appeared in his lap with one tiny bottle of yellow coloured liquid. “Here. And before you have the chance to forget, take your potion.”

Belle’s eyebrows narrowed as she caught the bottle, looking for its missing partner. “Where is the other one?”

“You are not going to take it today.”

“Rumple I need it.”

He shook his head and smirked. “No, you don’t. You’re not going to take the other now because tomorrow night you’ll come to my chambers and I’ll have a little surprise for you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really, Belle. Unless you don’t want it.”

“No! I’ve been wanting this for months.” The maid threw her arms around his neck and kissed her lover, her heart pounding furiously with happiness. She couldn’t believe that he was finally giving in. When they pulled apart, her eyes were bright. “So, tomorrow night?”

“Aye. But this time we will not rush it because of our urges. I want you to enjoy it.”

All sort of fantasies came to her mind, making one whole day seem like an eternity for Belle, but one that she would wait for with eagerness.

“Oh, believe me, I will.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

It’s Not That Bad, Right?

Prompt: Feel free to write this prompt (or not)- Merlin is cursed and turned into a dragon/wyvern. Arthur commands him to stay in the forest until they figure out how to change him back, but when Merlin senses that Arthur is in danger during a tournament in the City arena, he flies in front of everyone to rescue him, proving how willing he is to protect Arthur even if it means putting his life at the mercy of a shocked Camelot and angry Uther. Also Merlin breaths fire and is BAMF as a dragon.

Thanks for the prompt, babe! 

Read on Ao3 Part 2!

Pairings: Merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none. Merlin’s a little shit but what did we expect

Word Count: 3511

 Okay, Merlin’s gonna take the blame this time. This one’s on him. Definitely. No two ways about it. He’s big enough to admit he screwed up. He is! This one’s definitely on him. Absolutely not a question about it.

 In his defense, what was he supposed to do when he saw a sorcerer with a magic circle around a dragon’s egg chanting ominously as a bunch of storm clouds formed overhead, not run into the middle and push it out?

 Yeah, as if.

“Merlin!”

 Well, it sure hurt like hell, that’s for damn sure. Merlin can feel his teeth chattering against themselves as energy courses through his body, into through his fingertips and out through the top of his head, sending bolts into the ground, through his legs, through his chest. Something reaches deep beneath him and pulls, stretching him like putty. His throat screams in a soundless roar until he registers that, oh wait, that deafening noise is coming from him. Huh.

 “M-Merlin?”

 Why does Arthur sound unsure? Merlin’s fine. Merlin’s so fine right now. Everything is so fine and good right now, what’s wrong? Merlin turns around to say that, yeah, it’s alright, prat, he’s fine, no need to sound so nervous, only his head seems really really heavy right now and since when has his neck been that long?

 “Sire, stay back! I don’t know what’s happened!”

 “Stay low to the ground.”

 “One of these buggers wasn’t enough, huh?”

 Oh, are there more sorcerers? Merlin turns his—why the hell is his head so heavy?—head to look, scanning the trees for more sorcerers.

 …that’s funny, why is he suddenly higher? And where are his arms? Or his legs? Or…

 …oh, bollocks.

 Merlin sighs, only to realize that hey, you guys remember that dragons can breathe fire, right?

 “Get back!” Oh, there’s Leon. Merlin wondered where he got off to. “I don’t know where you come from, beast, but you must leave immediately.”

 “Beast,” Merlin mutters, “how rude.”

 It’s worth it for the way Leon’s arm drops dead to his side. The knight’s mouth gapes up at him. “Merlin?”

 Merlin’s gotta get used to this freaking head. He looks around at himself, tests his four feet—claws? Paws? He doesn’t know—and flaps his wings experimentally. “Pretty sure. Just, er, a little different?”

 “A little different, he says,” Gwaine mutters from Arthur’s other side, “Merlin what the hell have you done now?”

 “I think,” Merlin says, testing out the words in his new mouth—so many teeth—“I’ve been turned into a dragon.”

 “Stellar observations there.”

 “How is this possible,” Lancelot murmurs, the only one of the knights who dares step closer, close enough to rest his hand on Merlin’s flank. Wow, he’s tiny. “Merlin, did—did you do this?”

 “Why would I do this?”

 “You are dramatic,” Lancelot says, winking up at him.

 “Hey!”

 “He’s not wrong.”

 “Thanks, Gwaine.”

 “Alright, alright.” Arthur sways on his feet, looking every bit about to faint, except he grits his teeth and puts his sword decidedly at his side. “Merlin’s a dragon. Sure.”

 “In the flesh!”

 “I think you mean in the scale,” Elyan adds helpfully.

 Arthur glares at him, only to glance around and see Lancelot happily petting Merlin’s scales, Leon looking him over like he does the new armor, and Gwaine sauntering over to a stump and sitting down. He cocks his head and looks at Merlin, before shrugging and pulling out a waterskin. Even Percival and Elyan look a little nonplussed.

 “Are all of you just—fine with this?”

 Gwaine shrugs. “Hardly the weirdest thing to ever happen to us, is it?”

  “Merlin is a dragon!”

 “And not too long ago Gaius was possessed by a goblin.”

 “Don’t forget the manticore,” Percival supplies.

 “Oh,” Lancelot calls, “and the immortal army!”

 “And,” Leon says, “let us also not forget, Sire, that Uther once was married to a troll.”

 “Wait, he was what?” Gwaine leaps up indignantly. “Why have you not told us this story?”

  “Enough!”

 Merlin doesn’t sigh, but he does exhale noisily through his nostrils. While Arthur prattles on about respecting the king or some such nonsense that he’s sure only Leon is really listening to—and then it’s only out of politeness and because he’s heard it a thousand times—Merlin fidgets.

 Scales itch, did you know that? It feels like he’s wearing scratchy clothes that don’t fit right on his skin. He huffs, trying to keep the smoke to a minimum, scrubbing his legs and arms along the ground to try and get some relief. When it doesn’t work, he flops his head down with a resounding thump, out of the way of any of the knights. Wow, his head is the size of Lancelot.

 Lancelot, of course, because this man is the definition of unflappable unless it comes to Gwen, simply smiles and reaches out to gently stroke the ridge between Merlin’s eyes. Merlin rumbles gratefully and nudges Lancelot with the tip of his nose.

 “Right there, hmm?” Lancelot pats him a few more times.

 “He’s not a horse, Lancelot,” Leon says with a smile.

 “No, he’s a dragon.”

 “He is sitting right here,” Merlin grumbles, “thank you very much.”

 “So you can still talk.” Gwaine downs the waterskin and saunters over. “Can you fly?”

 Percival glances at his back. “He’s got wings, doesn’t he?”

 “Can we ride him?”

 “Gwaine!”

 “What? You lot were thinking it too!”

 “I’m going mad,” Merlin hears Arthur say faintly, “I’m going mad because my manservant is a dragon and none of my knights seem to care.”

 “Oh, we care,” Gwaine says, “this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in a while.”

 “Merlin appears to have his wits about him still,” Leon murmurs in an effort to soothe Arthur’s nerves which, honestly, Merlin’s a dragon, so that’s fair, “and I do not believe Merlin is likely to attack us.”

 “Merlin trips over his own two feet when he’s only got two and he’s the size of a string bean,” Arthur mutters, not taking his eyes off of him.

 “Oi!”

 “It’s true and you know it.”

 Merlin hides a smile, partly because he doesn’t want Arthur to see he’s happy, and partly because he has no idea what dragon smiles look like. Kilgharrah didn’t really smile. But the banter seems to have calmed Arthur down a little, at least enough to walk up to Merlin and look at him. Properly.

 Merlin lifts his head, just so they’re eye level, and waits.

 Arthur hesitantly reaches a hand out.

 Merlin holds his breath.

 Arthur’s hand clenches into a fist and he turns away.

 “We’ll have to find a way to fix this,” Arthur mutters, stalking back toward his horse. “Back to Camelot. We speak of this to no one except Gaius.”

 “You just want to leave him here?”

 “If we brought a dragon back to Camelot, my father would have all of our heads. And Merlin would be killed. Or chained up.” Arthur shakes his head firmly, already back on his horse. “We tell no one.”

 “So what do we do then,” Gwaine yells, “just abandon him out here?”

 “He’s a dragon,” Arthur says, “I’m sure he can fend for himself.”

 Something pinches inside Merlin’s chest as Arthur turns away. He growls, ignoring Lancelot’s concerned look as he straightens, his head turning to look down at his massive chest. It aches, like something in him is reaching for the end of a rubber band that just won’t snap back.

 “Merlin?”

 “I’m fine,” he manages, testing out his body again. He’s definitely not used to having six limbs, let alone wings. “I’ll figure it out.”

 “We will find a way to change you back, old friend,” Leon promises, “you will not be stuck like this forever.”

 “Might not be the worst thing in the world to be stuck as.”

 “All the same, we will try.”

 “Thanks, Leon.”

 Leon nods deeply, mounting his horse and setting off after Arthur. The other knights do the same, each bidding Merlin farewell. Lancelot is the last to leave.

 “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to stay?”

 As tempting as it is, Merlin shakes his massive head. “You might get hurt. And Camelot might, er—“

 “Since when have I listened to Camelot over listening to you?”

 In response, Merlin nudges him—gently!—with his nose back over to his horse.

 “Alright, alright,” Lancelot laughs, “I’m going.”

 Still, Merlin can’t help the dull ache of loneliness from settling in his chest as Lancelot disappears into the trees. He looks around. This clearing is nice. It’s just large enough to fit him comfortably. He can lie down—which he does—and curl up with his tail tucked around his legs. He has a tail, does that mean he has seven limbs now? Does a tail count as a limb?

 Oh, the ground feels really nice on his sides. Can he—he can roll to his other side too. Oh yeah, that’s fun.

 Merlin spends several minutes just rolling around on the ground, letting his wings splay out a little and flap to the sides, stirring up little storms of dust and dirt. He ends up on his back, his wings splayed out, looking up at the dark sky. His eyes drift closed and he rumbles happily.

 He isn’t sure how much time passes but his wings are starting to get a little sore. He grunts and rolls.

 …only to rock right back.

 He tries again. No luck.

 Maybe if he flaps his wings, he can—nope. The other side maybe? Oh, nope. Nope, that’s not it either.

 He’s stuck.

 How undignified. Good thing there’s no one around to—

 “Young warlock?”

 “No,” Merlin groans, shutting his eyes and instinctively going to cover his face only to remember that he’s got dragon legs and that’s not going to work. “Go away.”

 “No, young warlock,” comes the voice that is definitely laughing at him, “I don’t think I will.”

 Merlin opens his eyes. Sure enough, there’s Kilgharrah, who looks way too happy. Merlin gives up and lets his limbs hang uselessly. “I’m stuck.”

 “I can see that.”

 “…how do I get unstuck?”

 “You roll, young warlock.”

 “I’ve tried that!”

 “Well, then you must not’ve tried hard enough.”

 Trying to roll over and failing miserably in front of the Great Dragon is possibly one of the most humiliating things you can do. Especially when you’re exerting yourself because you’ve never had a dragon body before and you’re making all sorts of embarrassing grunts and squeals. Merlin doesn’t recommend it.

 Eventually, Merlin stops, panting and looking back at Kilgharrah who looks all too pleased with himself. “Are you just going to stand there?”

 “Did you need something?”

 “Help me!”

 “All you had to do was ask, young warlock.”

 Merlin wisely bites back the many insults on his tongue and rolls again. This time, Kilgharrah sticks his nose under the flap of Merlin’s wing and pushes him over with a graceless thump. Merlin shakes himself.

 “Thanks.”

 “But of course. You know I live to serve you.”

 “Have you gotten more sarcastic or have we not spoken in a while?”

 “That is an answer you must seek for yourself.”

 “You’re still as vague, good, I was beginning to think you were some other dragon.”

 “There are no other dragons,” Kilgharrah says softly, suddenly growing serious, “at least…there were no other dragons.”

 He inclines his head, moving with a grace that shows unlike Merlin, Kilgharrah understands his body.

 “What happened, Merlin?”

 Merlin explains.

 “That was very brave, young warlock.”

 “You can say stupid.”

 “That was very stupid, Merlin.”

 “Yeah, well.” Merlin kicks a rock next to him. “What else is new?”

 “I must say,” Kilgharrah muses, looking him over, “you are not an unhealthy dragon.”

 “That is…a compliment? I think?”

 “Well, typically when it comes to anamorphic magic, it does not perform…nearly this successfully.” Kilgharrah nudges Merlin’s wing with the tip of his snout. “I suspect it is because you are magic that you have transformed so completely.”

 “And also why I’m still able to talk?”

 “Precisely.”

 “Great.” Merlin snuffles a little. Wow, he can smell a whole lot more. “So how do we fix it?”

 “Unfortunately, anamorphic magic is…temperamental.”

 “Okay, so I can still speak normally, which means it’s not a dragon thing to speak in vague stupid cryptic sentences. Speak normally.”

 “Your tongue is still as sharp as ever.”

 “Well, now that I’m not a tiny human anymore—“

 “Most humans are tiny.”

 “Kilgharrah.”

 Kilgharrah sighs. Ooh, he’s gotta show Merlin how to do that so he can still sigh. He misses that. “It will take time. From what you described, the spell was not completed, which means it will only last as long as the magic holds.”

 “And how long is that?”

 “Perhaps until the next full moon.” That’s only a week and a bit away. That’s not so bad.

 “So what do I do until then?”

 “You never did learn how to hunt with Arthur, did you?”

 If you told Merlin he would be spending a week with Kilgharrah learning how to be a dragon and actually enjoying himself while doing it, he would have laughed, slammed the door in your face, and muttered some spell to make you trip as you walked away.

 And yet, here we are.

 Merlin does always insist that they stay close to the clearing. If someone comes back, he doesn’t want them to worry. Kilgharrah just shakes his head and tosses him another deer. Merlin can sigh now! That’s nice. His body doesn’t feel so itchy all the time either. His head doesn’t feel like a ridiculous weight anymore. His wings feel right. It’s not bad, this whole being-a-dragon business.

 There’s still something wrong though.

 That pain he had in his chest when the knights first left hasn’t gone away. It feels like he’s missing something. Sometimes when he lies down he rests his head on the ground too, tries to press his chest to the earth as much as possible. See if there’s something he can slot back into place. Nothing ever works.

 Kilgharrah, for once, isn’t being cryptic when he says he genuinely doesn’t know what’s wrong. But he does rest his head on Merlin’s back. That feels nice and warm.

 He doesn’t trust himself enough to try and breathe fire.

 Two days before the spell is supposed to wear off, the pain spikes. In an instant, Merlin crumbles to the ground and whines. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts.

 “Merlin,” Kilgharrah rumbles, at his side in an instant, “Merlin, what is wrong?”

 “M-my chest, I can’t, I—it hurts—“

 “Where is it coming from, young warlock?”

 “I just told you—!”

 “No,” Kilgharrah says sharply, “where?”

 Merlin opens his mouth to snap back when he feels a line in his chest yank taut.

 Oh.

  Oh.

 With two flaps of his wings, Merlin is airborne. The line pulls him over the trees, out of the forest, toward the castle in the distance. Camelot.

  Arthur.

 Of bloody course it’s Arthur. What else could it be? As he flies, Merlin racks his brain trying to think of what’s happening, what could be hurting Arthur, what’s going on—

 Right. There’s a bloody tournament going on.

 What is it about tournaments that make every single magic-user with a grudge against Uther come out of the woodwork?

 …well…

 There’s the arena. People are fleeing in droves. Merlin tucks his wings and dives, thankful to the lessons Kilgharrah gave him. He spots Arthur, he spots Uther—

 He spots a wave of soldiers in black armor surrounding Arthur on all sides. Their blades gleam in the light. Magic crackles around them. Arthur is bleeding.

  Not on his watch.

 Merlin opens his mouth.

 A dozen soldiers melt away like dew as he bathes them in fire, the black armor vanishing. Another dozen vanish as torrents of flame spill from his throat, mouth open in a righteous scream. Arthur whirls around to look. His cry of surprise is lost in the roar of the dragon’s wings. Uther’s face is pale. Another jet of fire incinerates the knights as Merlin lands with a thud in front of Arthur.

 A knight charges him. Merlin whips his tail around and swipes four of them off their feet. Another one launches a spear at him and lodges itself in his wing. Merlin cries out and lunges forward. The armor tastes salty. The other knight is torched before he has a chance to throw the spear.

 At his side, Arthur seems to snap out of his stupor, brandishing his sword and fighting off one of the last remaining knights. Merlin gets his snout underneath another and throws him into the distance. He swings his head around like a hammer and slams two more into the arena wall.

 The last one—well, he just screams at the last one.

 It seems to do the trick; the armor falls apart in a series of heavy clanks.

 Merlin stops, panting heavily. There’s still a spear lodged in his side and it burns. Arthur is safe. That’s all that matters. Arthur is safe.

 “…Merlin?”

 Merlin turns his head, his head hanging low. Arthur stands there, covered in blood, but alive, and holds out his hand.

 Merlin lays his head on the ground and closes his eyes.

 Arthur reaches out.

 A soft glove lands on Merlin’s cheek. Rubs his scales softy. Merlin purrs.

 “Hello, Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, too quiet for anyone else to hear, “welcome back.”

 “Kill it!”

 Ah, yes, right. Uther.

 “No!”

 Arthur’s cry forces Merlin’s eyes open, spotting Gwaine, Lancelot, Leon, Percival, Elyan, all writing spears and javelins away from other knights. A sharp pain comes from his side and he turns to see Arthur trying to pull the spear out. He has to brace his foot against Merlin’s side to get out. Arthur tosses it away and holds his hand over the wound. Thankfully it seems like it just lodged in between two scales, Merlin’s not bleeding too much.

 “Father,” Arthur pants, “Father we can’t kill it.”

 “It’s a dragon, Arthur!”

 “And it just saved our lives!”

 “It’s nothing but a beast,” Uther snarls, seemingly regaining some of his composure as he spews his hateful speech from his comfortable box, “mindless and hungry. It will kill us all!”

 “Does it look like it’s about to kill us?”

  No, no it most certainly does not, thank you very much.

 Arthur glances between the two of them, before leaning in close to Merlin.

 “Fly back to the clearing, we’ll meet you there.”

 Merlin turns his head. Arthur stares at him insistently.

 “Go!”

 He takes off, hearing Arthur’s long, fake cries about how they will chase after him, slay him, for the good of Camelot. He smiles and lands in the clearing. Kilgharrah is gone. Well, that’s kind of to be expected, isn’t it? He thinks a message of gratitude, hoping it will reach him, wherever he is. He doesn’t get a verbal reply, but a warm spark of magic spreads over his damaged scales and he smiles.

 Sure enough, the knights crash through the brush a few moments later, Arthur scrambling off his horse and up to Merlin.

 “You,” he says, grinning breathlessly, “are an idiot.”

 “Idiot dragon,” Merlin corrects, “who just saved your arse.”

 “That was so cool,” Gwaine crows, “you—“

 “Yes, yes,” Percival mutters, “you’ve been saying that since we left.”

 “They’re a bit excited, Merlin,” Lancelot chuckles, “forgive them.”

 “…it is pretty cool,” Merlin admits.

 ��Are you hurt?” Arthur glances over at his side. “You were hit.”

 “I think it’s healed up pretty well.”

 “We, er, weren’t able to find a way to fix you.”

 “I think it’ll wear off by the next full moon.”

 “How would you know?”

 Merlin gives Arthur a look that’s definitely just a rip off of Kilgharrah’s. “I know many things, young king.”

 “You stop that right now.”

 “So,” Elyan muses, “two days?”

 Merlin nods.

 “Camping trip, boys!”

 Gwaine’s holler makes the rest of them laugh and they quickly go about setting up camp. Merlin bows his head to carefully light the fire as the knights make themselves comfortable. It’s not so bad, actually, out here in the clearing with them. Arthur leaning up against his chest, Lancelot by his side. Leon tosses him a large chunk of meat as Percival watches. Elyan double-checks his side and pronounces him all clear.

 Yeah. Being a dragon isn’t so bad.

 “I get a ride before you turn back, right?”

 “Gwaine!”