#ill get back to the merthur in a moment

[hopelessromantic5]

Another Merthur drabble, this one a tad happier.

It had been an innocent touch. One that Merlin, for all his worries, thought he had gotten away with.

Honestly, it wasn’t even a thought, it was an instinct.

Arthur was preparing to step out of their tent and take on four men at once, ‘a show of strength’ Uther said. This was ‘The Tournaments to end All Tournaments’.

Merlin thought it was stupid and reckless. Especially for a man, a King no less, to voluntarily throw his own son into the mix. But that was Uther, he supposed.

Still, it worried Merlin. This wouldn’t be the first time a foe disguised himself as a knight to attempt the murder of his Prince.

That won’t be happening, as far as Merlin is concerned. Over his dead body.

Arthur watches him now, as he buckles the last straps in his armor. Merlin only looking up to meet sparkling blue eyes as he hands over the Prince’s sword. Merlin knows this will not be the sword he wields, once and forever. No, that sword was lying safely at the bottom of a lake, with Freya. At least, he felt some relief in that knowing.

Still it hurt Merlin’s heart to think he could not gift it to Arthur now, when he needs its strength the most.

“What’s wrong? Not worried are you?”

Merlin snaps back into himself. “I’m only worried about the dents I’ll have to bang out of this armor later.” The raven boy rolls his eyes, continuing the show they put on. Sometimes for their own amusement, sometimes to stay afloat in a sea of hopelessness.

“It won’t take me long.” The prince replies haughtily before turning back to Merlin. “I’ll try to keep your precious metal in perfect condition.”

Merlin knows he meants something else. He knows it is an unspoken promise to come back to this tent, no matter what.

“Let me just double check-“

“Merlin.” Arthur sounds exasperated but Merlin hears the fondness hiding just behind it.

“It’s just a double check, to make sure it all in place.” Merlin placates, stepping forward once more to look over the links and plates and layers that would be keeping his future from harm. Forgive him for wanting to be sure.

He ran his hands along the front, checking each crevice for any unprotected skin or limbs. He ran his hands down the length of Arthur’s arms. His right, protected by the same plates as his chest, his sword arm. His left remained just chain and cloth. Flexibility needed for the shield. Not that he expects Arthur to keep the shield in his hand for longer than two seconds anyway.

The horns blares announcing that the next bout will begin momentarily, Merlin realizes hurriedly ducking down, checking all the straps, not too tight, not too loose.

“Alright. You’re ready.” Merlin says, not fully feeling it.

Without thinking, he brings both hands up to cradle Arthur’s face, for just a moment. He feels soft skin, a sharp jawline for only a heartbeat, breifly meeting ocean eyes, before shoving Arthur out of the tent flaps and hoping that he didn’t get killed or maimed.

Merlin doesn't realize what exactly he has done, until two days later.

Of course, Arthur is victorious, despite Merlin’s worries about Sir Theron having ill intentions.

Therefore, the celebratory feast is in his honor.

Merlin may complain and berate Arthur about his head getting too big, but in reality, there is no one else in the kingdom that deserves the honor more than the Prince. He does more work in the castle, for the citizens, and just in general, than Uther has ever done in his life. Arthur isn't yet twenty one. He is Head Knight, he trains squires and deals with grain reports to ensure they are 'done properly'. He never turns away a citizen that comes to him for help, and he will always stand up for the innocent, even if it means his own punishment.

It's a lot to put on any one man, so yeah, Merlin would say he deserves a feast. At the very least. Merlin doesn't even make any jokes about Arthur getting round at the waist, both of them knowing well that the Prince is in excellent shape.

Merlin stands behind Arthur, attending him, as he always does. And subtly listening in on he and Morgana's whispers about their guests.

It was a single second between Merlin looking toward the rest of the room filled with people, and Sir Theron standing from his place, quick as lightening, and sending a dagger sailing through the air towards Arthur's head.

Oh gods, not this again. Merlin thinks. Just before his instincts can kick in and wordlessly move the knife three inches to the left in midair, something… strange happens.

The dagger makes it about two feet from the Prince before completely disolving into…sand? Merlin wouldn't have beleived it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

It wasn't he that did this. At least…he didn't think so… Oh no.

Oh no oh no ohnoohnoohno. It's all that he can think as everyone in the room stands frozen, apart from the knights of camelot that jump to grab Sir Theron and throw him in the dungeons.

Even Theron himself doesn't fight it, too stunned at the fate of his terribly thought out murder scheme.

"Father, may I… be exused?"

Uther is almost in a trance looking down at the pile of sand on the high table. "Of course. Go. Rest. You did well today."

Merlin could almost scoff. The man doesn't even look his son in the eye whilst giving him the barest amount of affection that any human could possibly manage. Arthur has almost been hurt or killed more than once because of these stupid tournaments, and all Uther can say is 'You did well."

Merlin doesn't know his father, but he surely must be better than Uther could ever attempt.

Arthur makes his way out of the Great Hall, sending Merlin a look that conveys the Prince wants him to follow.

He does. Reluctantly.

Oh gods. What does he know? What is Arthur going to do? Will Merlin be dead by sunrise? Surely not…right?

They finally, painfully find themselves in Arthur's chambers and it is deadly quiet. Only the night's summer breeze entering through the open window.

Arthur turns to him, and immidiately, with one look, Merlin knows. Merlin knows that he knows. The panic starts to set in and it must show because Arthur's face softens, infentesimely.

"Merlin." He says quietly. As if berating his magical manservant for not knowing that he wouldn't kill him on the spot if he found out.

Merlin can only helplessly shrug in response as a single tear slides down his face, expression unchanging. He might not be able to stop himself from crying but he would not sob. He would not lose himself that way, not in front of Arthur.

Arthur approaches slowly. While Merlin knows that he won't harm him, he appreciates the gesture.

"I assume that wasn't you, just now." The Prince says.

Merlin gasps inaudibly.

Arthur continues, as if he hadn't heard. "I mean it was you, but it wasn't. Not just now."

Merlin slowly nods. "I don't really know what that," he gestures towards the door, the outside world, "was. But I have a…hunch." The warlock looks down at his own feet, deeply ashamed.

"So do I." Merlin's head lifts at Arthur's words and finds him smiling. Like he knows something that Merlin doesn't. Then, he takes another slow step. "Do you remember a few days ago, just before my first round of the tournament, you were looking my armor over…"

Merlin hides his flushing face behind his hands, hoping to be swallowed up by the ground. "Yes. I remember." He whispers and then inwardly groans at how emotional and damning his words were.

"Well," The smug prat was still smiling, almost laughing to himself. "When you touched me, I saw your eyes flicker just for second. I'd have missed it if I wasn't already looking. You seemed not to have noticed. But I defintitely felt…a veil go over me. Like something was now standing between me and any threat I could face." Arthur stood a foot away, not looking away from Merlin for a second since they entered the room, his manservant was getting increasingly intimidated and red.

"But…" he thought for a moment. "The tournament, how did their swords not…"

"I don't beleive they ever got close enough."

Merlin rolls his eyes, out of habit. "Yeah, yeah, you're the greatest warrior there ever was," He scoffs. "I'm telling you, you don't watch that ego, it'll outweigh you. And that's really saying something."

Merlin nearly winces after he finishes speaking but jumps when Arthur starts laughing and shaking his head. "Gods, what am I going to do with you, Merlin? You insult me, you unintentionally save my life with magic in front of the king, and you seem to give no thought for your own head attatched to your shoulders." He sighs an exasperated sigh. Suddenly he's closing the distance, reaching out his hand's to cradle Merlin's face but, unlike him, Arthur does not pull away. "Promise me that you will be careful." He whispers, staring directly into Merlin's soul, magic and all.

"I will. But I cannot promise I won't use it, if it saves your life, even if I have to-"

A fire lights behind Arthur's eyes. "What? Even if you have to what? Burn for it?"

Merlin nods, strong hands still holding him in place.

"I'm not worth that, Merlin. It is not an equal trade, my life for yours. Not even close." The Prince's ire was turning to anguish. He now knew exactly how exposed and in danger Merlin was, just for existing.

"Don't ever say that to me." Merlin says this quietly, in their bubble, but his voice holds the conviction of a king, a god. "I would die a thousand times if it meant you survived. A world without you in it is not a world I can tolerate." Merlin goes to move away but Arthur etertwines his hands behind the raven boy's neck, holding him there.

"What about my quality of life, Merlin? Don't I get a say?" Their foreheads press together, they breathe each other's air.

"No. In fact, consider every decision you'll ever need to make, already made for you."

Arthur has to laugh. Partially because he knows Merlin is right. Maybe he's always known.

[maraleestuff]

The Moment of Truth - My Rewrite

(A fic idea that won’t leave me alone. Features Merthur endgame but divorce first ://)

So there was Big Set Up for a Magic Reveal in 01x10, that never really amounted to anything. Will knew that Merlin could probably end the issue with Kanen before anyone could be hurt, and Hunith saw that Merlin was preparing to do what it would take to protect Ealdor, even at the cost of himself. Pre-battle, he even alluded to the potential moment. As we recall, Will took the fall as sorcerer after taking a crossbow bolt/ arrow for Arthur.

But what if things had gone differently?

At the end of one of Arthur’s speeches, and Will had been outspoken, he paced up to Merlin. He wouldn’t reveal Merlin’s magic in front of everyone, never that, but he’s still mad. “There isn’t hope, Merlin,” Will says, unaware or uncaring that Arthur is still in earshot. “Your Prince will lead all of us to our deaths.”

“He’s trying to help—“

“But it won’t be enough,” Will retorts. “You know there’s only one way to win this battle. But first, you need to stop living a lie.” It’s not fair—even Will knows this—but he’s angry that his friend had to leave, that his friend plays servant to a spoilt prince.

And he can see it in Merlin’s eyes, the way he looks at Arthur—like the man is everything, destiny and honor personified. (He can see how this love hurts his friend, too.)

He’s angry that Merlin—his Merlin—isn’t quite the same anymore, that his best friend isn’t the one who returned to Ealdor. Because Camelot changed him. Arthur fucking Pendragon changed him.

Will storms away, ignoring Merlin’s call after him, and only stops when he rounds a nearby house. When he glances back, guilt fills him at Merlin’s sad, troubled look. Will tries to ignore the way Arthur is looking at Merlin; if Will didn’t know any better, he’d say the Prince is worried.

- - -

Later, before the coming battle, Merlin’s fingers tremble as he puts on a vambrace.

By now, he’s had about half a year of experience putting armor on Arthur—but it’s awkward and almost ill-fitting on himself. Arthur stands nearby, putting on his own armor with expert ease; a soldier and a knight, prepared for battle.

But Merlin feels nothing but a certain numbness, Will’s voice echoing in his mind. There’s only one way they can prevail against Kanen—at least, without anymore death.

He knows he needs to act. But can he risk it? Can he bear to have Arthur look at him like a monster? To be executed, or exiled? Can he bear to hope?

“Here,” Arthur says, drawing Merlin from his thoughts, as he helps Merlin with his vambrace. Merlin’s fumbling fingers hadn’t been getting anywhere.

“Thanks.” Merlin’s mouth is too dry, and he feels moments from being unable to simply breathe. He’s too nervous to make a comment about Arthur helping him for a change.

“Look,” Merlin starts, when he’s able to find his voice, “whatever happens out there, I don’t want you to think any less of me.”

“It’s alright to be scared,” Arthur says, surprisingly soft. “Even the most seasoned of warriors dread battle. And you’re not a knight, you’re a—“

“A servant?” Merlin asks. With Will’s distrust of Arthur on his mind, the reminder of his station, compared to Arthur, burns all the more.

“A civilian,” Arthur states. “You aren’t a soldier.”

“I know.” Merlin was supposed to protect Arthur, but he had no training, but for being Arthur’s training dummy and a smuggled book of spells.

Merlin takes a deep breath, securing his sheath on his waist. Gwen had gifted him a sword, but it’s weight was unfamiliar. He’d need to use it, until—

“Merlin,” Arthur says, shuffling with his own sword belt, expression pensive—Merlin knows him well enough by now to know that he was unsure about what he was going to say. It’s so unlike him that Merlin pauses, frowning. “What your friend said, what did he mean by that?”

Merlin’s stomach drops. But he feigns ignorance. “By what?”

“About living a lie?”

Merlin opens his mouth, but Morgana is suddenly shoving open the front door. “They’re coming, across the river.”

“We’ll head out, at once,” Arthur says. When the door closes, Arthur looks back at Merlin expectantly, a furrow in his brow.

“Whatever I have to do, remember that we’re in Essetir, not Camelot.”

Merlin leaves before Arthur can respond.

- - -

The plan goes perfectly—until everything goes wrong.

Will stands at Merlin’s side, as he conjures a storm and friend and foe alike are thrown in chaos. The battle is over quickly, then, and Arthur storms up to them, a thunderous expression.

“I’m the sorcerer,” Merlin says, heart pounding. Simple words for such a pivotal moment.

Arthur opens his mouth, fury and hurt in his face, but Will steps forward, too. “This isn’t Camelot,” Will says, at Merlin’s side. “Merlin can’t be punished by it’s laws.”

And then, before Arthur can respond, magic rings around Merlin like alarm bells, as the last vestiges of Kanen’s men attack. Kanen, stirring on the battlefield, raises a crossbow at Arthur’s back.

“No!” Merlin surges forward, around Arthur, flicking the arrow aside like a fly. Time is slowed, like molasses, or maybe it’s Merlin who’s moving faster—he’s never learned the difference.

When time rights itself, he’s in the thick of it, parrying the sword of a bandit. Behind him, somewhere, is the clink of Arthur’s armor and Will shouting.

Someone pushes Merlin aside; a whistle of an arrow, a sickening thwack as it hits someone.

Merlin looks around frantically and pales. Will, his best friend, a brother, staggers back, an arrow protruding from his chest.

“No. No!” Merlin’s ears ring. Suddenly, Merlin is on his feet, fury in his veins—he shoves Kanen and his men back, a yell burning his throat.

He doesn’t stop to watch them fall.

“Will!” Merlin kneels at Will’s side, hands hovering. There’s so much blood. Will’s breath a wheeze. Merlin’s studied a couple of healing spells, but nothing for this. Gaius is the Physician.

He doesn’t know what to do.

“Just hang on, just try to breathe,” Merlin tries to soothe, and he rambles more, but he isn’t totally sure what he’s saying.

Someone helps him get Will inside his house, on a table, but Merlin isn’t sure who. He doesn’t stop to glance. Arthur says something, but Merlin doesn’t hear it. Footsteps fade, and he’s alone with Will, his hand oddly cold, as Will wheezes for breath, tears in his eyes.

Merlin’s own eyes blur, but he ignores them.

“You’re a good man, Merlin,” Will gasps. Merlin grips his hand, unable to breathe—not because he dreads his secret being revealed, because, suddenly, he’s faced with a world where Will is gone. Not an old friend, in a distant village, just—gone.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin murmurs. “I don’t know how to heal you. I don’t—I can’t—“

“It’s okay,” Will says, weakly grasping Merlin back. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay. I was wrong about Arthur, you know. I don’t think I’ll ever really like him, but I see the way you two look at each other.”

“What?”

Will laughs, winces. “You’ve always been a decent judge of character, I think. If you see the King in him, then it must be in there…deep, deep down. And if he hurts you, I will haunt him till the end of his days.”

Merlin laughs wetly. His tears mix with the growing red stain. His hand is on Will’s chest, trying in vain to stem the flow, but Merlin can feel the life draining from Will. Not the blood, metaphorically, but with his magic; he can feel it drain, but he doesn’t know how to mend it.

“It’s been boring here, without you,” Will says.

“I’m sorry I had to go.” A part of Merlin will always feel that way, no matter of pratly princes and talking dragons. He’ll always miss goofing around with his magic or spear fishing or playing pranks with Will. The way you miss your childhood home that you can never truly return to.

Will starts gasping harshly. It isn’t far now.

“Merlin, Merlin, I’m scared—“

“I know. I’m here. I’m here.”

“I don’t want to die—I don’t want to be alone—“

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Merlin grasps Will’s hand, tightly.

The world stops when Will stops breathing. And though sobs catch in Merlin’s chest, though he can feel grief like a dark winter storm, for a brief instant, he is grateful.

Will isn’t in pain anymore.

- - -

Merlin doesn’t remember much of the preparations for the funerals—for Will, for Matthew, for all those who fell in battle.

He knows he’s the one who helps carry Will to the pyre. Merlin arranges Will’s grip around his father’s sword, leaves his woven leather bracelet in Will’s fingers. Gwen, Morgana, and his mother squeeze his shoulder, or murmur condolences—someone strokes his hair. He thinks Arthur is somewhere there, on the periphery, but Merlin can’t face that right now.

When the flames burn, all Merlin can hear is Will’s panicked voice. He stays, stays, stays, until the embers are cold, tears dried on his cheeks, dried blood and grime on his hands.

At some point, he kneels, fiddling with the grass at his knees.

A shadow eventually falls over him, or, maybe, it’s been there for awhile.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, armor clanking as he sits down. In the edge of Merlin’s vision, he reaches out a hand, hesitates, and drops it on his thigh. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Merlin says. It’s one thing to know it’s not his fault—not everything is under his control, even with magic—but there is still this insidious voice.

If he had acted sooner, no one would’ve had to die. Will would still be alive.

“He—“ Arthur pauses, wets his lips. “He knew about…it, didn’t he?”

Merlin blinks, head feeling a little foggy. “It?”

“Your magic,” Arthur says, the moment Merlin had been dreading. Merlin feels very little now that it’s upon him.

“Yes.”

“He was trying to get you to stop the battle.”

“Something like that,” Merlin sighs. “Even I don’t know fully what I’m capable of.”

Supposedly the most powerful sorcerer to walk the Earth—but he couldn’t heal his friend.

“You seemed capable enough,” Arthur says. “That storm you conjured. I think some of Kanen’s men almost shat themselves.” Arthur pauses, glancing at Merlin, and Merlin realizes he’s trying to make a joke. Not to make light of his grief, but to help.

Merlin blinks, and a warm tear falls down his cheek without thought. “But not powerful enough. I felt Will’s life but I didn’t even know the first thing about healing him.”

Arthur’s hand warms Merlin’s shoulder, steadying him. “I…I can’t pretend to know the first thing about magic. But I know you. You did everything you could. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

“It’s almost dark, Merlin. We should head inside. You can finish up my dinner.”

“How generous,” Merlin says wryly, but he doesn’t want to move just yet. “I can’t yet. I promised…” Merlin swallows. More tears fall. “I promised I wouldn’t leave him alone.”

“We won’t leave you alone either,” Arthur says, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder.

“We?”

“We,” Morgana says behind Merlin. When he turns around, she has two blankets: one she lays on the grass, the other she drapes around Merlin and Arthur’s shoulders. Gwen and Hunith trail behind her with steaming bowls of stew and a couple of candles.

“We,” Gwen confirms, handing out the bowls.

The four of them huddle together under the single blanket, while Hunith smiles solemnly.

“Try not to stay out too long,” Hunith says. She strokes Merlin’s hair, and smiles gratefully at Gwen, Morgana, and Arthur. “It gets cold after dark.”

Hunith plants an indulgent kiss on Merlin’s brow before heading back inside.

“You guys really don’t have to do this,” Merlin tells them.

“We do,” Morgana says. “You’ve been there for all of us. Even if one of us”—she sends a stink eye to Arthur—“doesn’t always acknowledge it.”

“We aren’t going anywhere,” Gwen adds.

“I promise, Merlin,” Arthur says. “Now, one of the best ways to keep someone alive is to tell their stories. So, tell us about Will. If you’d like.”

So Merlin does.

[jeremysknoxes]

url change swift-of-corvids -> jeremysknoxes

intro post!!

hi, i go by calista but you can call me cali :) i go by she/her, and im a minor! im an aquarius and an intp, and im a ravenclaw. im a swiftie, and i listen to maisie peters, hozier , olivia rodrigo, conan gray, fall out boy, and twenty one pilots as well :)

previous urls @greekmyths-and-swifts, @swift-of-crows13 and @swift-of-corvids

mutuals if you want to, please ask for my discord in dms! (talk to me i need company)

art blog is @the-feathered-paintbrush side blog @cards-on-the-table (cant link it but its that also i rarely use it)

oh i love corvids by the way

fandoms im in (in no specific order)

six of crows /grishaverse

the raven cycle and the dreamer trilogy

secret shanghai

*sighs* shadowhunters (this fandom is a blessing and a curse) (the brainrot is brainrotting so hard)

the magnus archives and the magnus protocol CEASELESS WATCHERRR

merlin :D

all for the game (you know, i get it- *gunshot noises*)

the song of achilles

GOOD OMENS

dead boy detectives im so sudhudshsuhasi abt it atm

classic lit (wuthering heights, pride and prejudice, the picture of dorian gray)

shakespeare

probably more but i forgot

brainrotting over jonmartin, andreil, merthur, jerejean, gracetopher and thomastair at the moment send help

i held off on making this for so long because my pirating post is just way too useful for me so ill put a link here: pirating post

and thats all! hello nice to meet you!

random tagging system below the cut:

#cali says shit or #print.calishit - random things i wanna say #lord shit wotton -shitposts #all i really want is queue - queue (self explanatory) #oomen's eyeball - faves or #favs #say you'll remember me - things i wanna come back to or #hope i never lose you #where i pace in my pen - art, writing (mainly used in @this-could-either-break-my-heart) #cali's bookshelf - general book things! # i dont want the world i just want you - things that are not a want they r a need (also choosing an alec lightwood quote is so real of me)

#saves - saves

[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

[tink-wondering]

TITLE FOR THE THING FOR MERTHUR: I yearn for thee

So, I hope you will forgive me because here is the second proposal and it is mostly fluff... with a sprinkle of Gaius (sounds weird, but you'll see when you get to that part, wherein Gaius is also fluffy).

Same ask game as usual.

Here's a follow-up to yesterday's post (Pride & Prejudice AU, kinda)

Rated: Gen/T

Words: 999

I yearn for thee

“Lord Pendragon!” Merlin asks, surprised.

“What are you doing out here at this time?”

“I could not sleep.”

Merlin stares and stares and stares. How the new dawn has changed his perception of the man! He is glowing in the morning sun, his hair in disarray giving him a rambunctious look, opposite of his reputation, though he still seems unsure on how to act in Merlin’s presence.

“I could not either,” Lord Pendragon says slowly. “My night has been restless to say the least.”

Merlin doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he looks down. His outlook of Lord Pendragon may have changed, but the man will surely remember Merlin’s last words to him; he has kept his promise and minimized their interactions since then. Now, Merlin feels lost. How do you say to a man you have abhorred—and revealed outwardly such animosity—that your feelings have changed.

A gentle finger under his chin slowly tilts his head back up. “Am I so loathsome still that you can’t even look at me?”

“No, on the contrary!” Merlin breathes out, as lost as before but in a sea of blue this time. Lord Pendragon’s eyes look at him with so much kindness and fondness still, he can barely believe it. “It should be you who refuses to look at me for I have been nothing but an insolent child towards you.”

“You have not,” Lord Pendragon counters. “You have done nothing but bring the best out of me, even calling me out on my haughty behaviour. And I must sincerely apologize for my proposal”—he chuckles, depreciating—“I have talked to Leon and Morgana about it, and my words were ill-conceived. I am not surprised they were received so poorly, but if there is any chance your feelings have changed since then, know that my affection and admiration towards you are still as strong and deep.” Merlin remains silent, unbelieving. “I know you have spoken to Lord du Bois last night, and it has lead me to hope. Your continued presence gives me faith, but one word from you will silence me forever.”

“Then, before your lips are sealed, you must know that not only my sentiments have changed, but my heart now beats only for you. You have brought my friend, my family and I so much joy. I must thank you!” Merlin says, almost in an afterthought amidst his confession. “I know of the kindness you have bestowed upon sweet Gwen and Lancelot by funding her dot. That is not mentioning the hand, I suspect, you have played into saving poor Gwaine and ensuring his reputation remains intact.”

“Mr. Emrys, please,” Lord Pendragon interrupts, sheepish. “I have done those things only with your happiness in mind. I am alarmed that you know of those happenings considering I tried to keep them silent, but once again, you are always the one I think of when I act. So, if your… inclination towards me is merely a product of my actions, then I thank you. However, none of my deeds where accomplished with the thought to trap you.”

“Trap me?” Merlin exclaims. “Lord Pendragon, I am indeed trapped. Though these bars have been construed out of my own folly. My heart beats for you because I have seen your kindness, your compassion, your—dare I say—love?”

“Say it all you want, Merlin,” he says hesitantly, but at Merlin’s nod, a smile overtakes his features. “Because you have bewitched me, and I love and love and love you. If I may be so bold, one more time, I do not wish to be parted from you from this day on.”

Merlin’s eyes fill with tears. He has never believed it Lord—Arthur, his mind says; Arthur, his soul screams; Arthur, his heart rejoices—would still feel the same.

Arthur very slowly, very gently—as though Merlin is a frightened bird—takes his face in his hands and leans down to press a tender kiss to his lips. Merlin catches his hands around his face and closes his eyes, and the kiss becomes passionate, emotions finally unraveled.

***

“Is this truly your heart’s desire?” Gaius asks him with a raised eyebrow.

“It is,” Merlin answers fervently. “It most ardently is!”

“I thought the man didn’t strike your fancy,” Gaius says with a fond smile.

“He did not at first, but I have misjudged him… so wrongly.” Merlin laughs at his own idiocy and prejudice. “He is nothing but a kind, gentle soul. A man whose heart is—and has always been—in the right place, despite is countenance saying otherwise. It is I who was too foolish to see past my enmity.”

“I am so glad you have finally found love, Merlin.” Gaius stands up, bones cracking, to hug him tightly. After a few seconds, he lets go to look at him, hands still bracketing his shoulders warmly, eyes a little misty. “I was starting to despair you would ever find happiness with another and be settled with an old man like me for the rest of your life.”

“It would have been my pleasure to stay by your side as long as needed.”

“I have raised four of you, and my wish has always been your happiness.” Gaius wipes the tears at the corner of his eyes, and with a laugh, he adds, “Now, let your gentleman in so I can speak with him. See if he is really worthy of you.”

“He is! More than anything else, and it is I who is not worthy.”

Merlin looks outside the window where Arthur is pacing back and forth amidst the chicken. He is a picture of nervousness, a side Merlin has never seen before. Or rather, a side he has never let himself see, knowing the moment he would find an ounce of humanity in the man, he would fall desperately, expeditiously and irrevocably in love.

And he did.

He still does.

A little more with every passing moment.

[bellamyblakru]

For the adorable cliche prompts 49 & Merthur ❤️

oh my god i am so sorry for how late this is. like im months late. i apologize 😭😭my writing drive has been so shit, but i got the random urge today and i wrote like over 4,000 words in one sitting💀💀 i hope this is okay!!! again, i am so sorry akskksks i hope you like it, my lovely mutual❤️❤️

ill add it under the cut and it is right here on ao3! without further ado, i present: merthur + anxiety + you caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out

Merlin smiled at the servants as he passed them.

One step in front of the other, the warlock smiled on, ignoring the growing blood stain beneath his tunic. He was lightheaded, growing more unsteady as he walked through the darkened halls of the castle. He could make it to his chambers, he knew, if he just willed a bit more magic to staunch the flow of the wound. 

He paused in the middle of an abandoned corridor, leaning his head against the cold stone of the wall as he focused his power. His magic flickered sadly, already working overtime to keep him conscious. But, as always, it answered his call. Merlin felt his magic simmer over the injury as he let out a small breath of relief. 

Straightening up, Merlin stumbled his way into Gaius’s workroom, and he did not collapse until he made it to his small room in the back. 

He stared and stared at the ceiling, wondering if anyone else could feel the world spinning. He figured he should worry about that, but his magic prickled his mind then—reminding him to sleep. 

So, Merlin relented, and he fell instantly into a restless slumber. 

Waking up with a gasp, the warlock shot up in his bed. He narrowed his eyes at the light coming through his window, wondering how on earth he got here. The last thing he remembered was reading the threat against Arthur that was hidden in the king’s letters and thinking how to stop it…but the rest of the day came back blurry. He shook his head. The day needed to start—even if Merlin couldn’t remember what he did the day before, even as that thought slightly terrified him.

He moved to the edge of the bed, swinging his feet over, and he tried to stand up. The minute his feet touched the ground, the room swayed, and he came crashing back onto his cot. Merlin groaned at the searing pain in his abdomen. Lifting his tunic, he gently prodded the bruised area that covered most of his torso. 

His answer was solved, then. He must have found the threat and eradicated it, and this was his gift for doing so. Grimacing, Merlin slowly got to his feet and limped to his mirror. Looking over to his left, the warlock saw some wrapping he could use to cover the damage. Doing so, rather gingerly, he frowned at the ache. His magic usually smoothed away these pain and bruises quickly—it was why a bruise never lasted more than a few hours on him. Shrugging the thought away, however, figuring it must be taking a bit more power than usual, he threw on his purple tunic and plastered a smile on his face. 

By the time Merlin arrived at Arthur’s door with breakfast, a sweat had broken out against his neck and back. Panting a bit, Merlin shoved the wooden door open revealing an already awoken Arthur staring through the window.

“You’re late.” Merlin heard Arthur grumble.

“Yeah, sorry.” Merlin couldn’t think of a lie that suited him, so that’s all he said.

Arthur turned around. “That’s it? ‘Sorry’?”

Merlin grinned. Arthur rolled his eyes, moving to sit at his desk where Merlin dropped off his food. Arthur watched him tidy up the room for a few moments before blurting out: “Let’s go out.” 

Merlin turned around, an eyebrow raised. “Out?”

Merlin swore he saw Arthur’s cheeks redden. The king coughed. “With the knights. You know, like a hunting trip.”

Laughing a bit at Arthur’s rushed sentence, Merlin smiled. “When shall we depart?”

Arthur straightened up, tilting his head to regard his servant. “Today.”

“Okay.” Merlin saw Arthur’s palpable relief at the word, though he couldn’t fathom why. “Is everything alright, Arthur?”

Arthur smiled brightly. “I’m fine, Merlin.” 

The warlock narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, Arthur focused on eating and the paperwork in front of him as Merlin started grabbing the laundry thrown about. He hid his flinch as he bent down, stifled the cry wanting to escape his throat as he walked to the dresser. 

He needed to get out of here before Arthur noticed. 

“I’ll go prepare the provisions and tell the knights.” Merlin didn’t hear Arthur's response as he ran out the door, quickly shutting it and leaning against the cool wood. The guards barely blinked at his behavior—they were quite used to oddities at this point. Merlin nodded to them as he continued down the corridor. 

Today was going to be difficult, and he couldn’t imagine it would end well at this rate. 

Forcing his magic to his core, Merlin sent messages to the roundtable and to the kitchen before he found his way back to Gaius’s workroom. He was sat at the table, head in his hands, when Elyan walked into the room. 

“Merlin?”

Merlin shot his head up, regretting it when the room twisted. Blinking, he looked at the knight who somehow was sitting beside him. Merlin saw Elyan’s lips moving, so he tried to focus. 

“—lin, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

Merlin narrowed his spinning focus on Elyan’s concerned eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good.”

Elyan scoffed. “I find that hard to believe, my friend.”

Merlin tried to smile. “I swear. What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Elyan’s eyes softened even more. “No, everything is okay. Arthur sent me to fetch you. We are leaving, remember?”

Merlin blinked again. How long have I’ve been out?

“Of course.” Merlin shook his head, a sheepish smile on his face. “I must’ve fallen asleep.”

Elyan narrowed his eyes. “Merlin, you don’t seem well. I don’t want you to hurt yourself more. I’ll tell Arthur you can’t-“

“No, no, I’m okay. I can come.”

That didn’t seem to convince the knight, if the doubtful look on his face was any indication. “Merlin, you are a part of my family, and if you need to stay home, I’ll stay with you. Make sure you get better. Arthur won’t fuss if I make an excuse for us both. Maybe Gwen, you, and I could go on another picnic, yeah?”

Merlin smiled at the memory of their last adventure together. “That does sound tempting, but I am truly okay! Look!” He got up and did a little spin, making Elyan laugh at the dramatics. 

“Okay, okay. I believe you. But don’t think I won’t keep an eye on you, little brother.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” Merlin grinned, pulling the knight into a strong hug, his heart feeling more full than it has in a long time. 

“We are leaving in a few moments, I’ll meet you there?”

Merlin nodded, promising to be there on time, and when the knight vanished, as did Merlin’s brief energy. Chiding himself on not taking Elyan’s offer, Merlin forced his legs to stumble into his room to throw some articles into his bag. He double checked his wrappings, and he raced out the door. 

He felt his magic flicker at his movements—it wasn’t pleased to be keeping him conscious and healing at the same time. Sighing through his teeth, he shook his head before smiling brightly at the knights. Elyan rolled his eyes while Gwaine ran up to him and pulled him into a spinning hug.

“It’s been too long, Merls!” Gwaine ruffed his hair when he put him down, a wild grin on his face.

Merlin laughed, swatting away the knight’s hand. “I saw you yesterday!”

Gwaine put his hand on his heart, a fake pout on his face. “You haven’t missed me?”

Merlin nodded, trying to ruffle Gwaine’s hair back, who squealed and ran behind Percy for protection. 

Lance walked towards him with Merlin’s mare in one hand. “How are you Merlin?” Lance whispered so only he could hear. 

Merlin took his horse, stroking her neck. “I’ve been better.”

Lance frowned. “Are you hurt?”

Merlin opened his mouth to lie, but Arthur was already on top of his horse yelling at them to hurry up or they would be left behind. Merlin shrugged his shoulders to Lance, who narrowed his eyes, but they both hopped up their respective horses. 

The ride hurt his side—a lot. Each trot sent pangs of fire through his body, rippling in his veins, spreading a wild, uncontrollable pain that caused Merlin to bite his cheeks to keep himself from yelling. 

He didn’t make a noise, though. He never does.

He stayed behind the pack, trying to feel the magic of the earth around him. The trees, the birds, the ground—all of it magic, all of it welcoming Merlin with no hesitation. He smiled slightly, his head tilted towards the sun trying to shine through the foliage. Hearing someone slow down, he forced himself to open his eyes at his companion.

Arthur watched him, curious, staring openly at him.

“May I help you, sire?” 

Arthur did a half smile at the tone. “Just…thinking, I suppose.”

Merlin opened his mouth to say his quip, but he audibly, and dramatically, snapped it shut when he saw the look on Arthur’s face—the king laughed, causing Merlin to stare at the other now. He loved Arthur’s laugh. It didn’t happen as much as Merlin would like, but the time he got it out of the man always felt like a prize like no other.

All the pain in the world would be worth hearing that sound again.

Arthur’s amused face looked away from Merlin, assessing the small clearing they just wandered into. 

“We can make camp here.”

Merlin immediately jumped off his horse, grateful for his tight wrapping he applied this morning. The bandages feeling like the only thing keeping him whole. 

“I’ll get firewood!” Merlin yelled, not waiting for anyone to say anything else as he all but ran into the forest, towards the running water he could hear was close by. Three steps in, he heard someone walking behind him. 

He sighed. “Lancelot. Why are you following me?”

The man in question caught up to him easily enough, and then right passed him, looking at the ground for usable wood.

“Well, my magical friend, as you are in pain and have not answered my previous question, I figured I could take it upon myself to annoy you until you broke in and told me what was going on with you.”

Merlin grumbled. “I’m fine.”

Lance didn’t stop searching, barely blinking at the obvious lie. 

Sighing, Merlin grabbed Lance’s arm, stopping his friend’s theatrics. “Look, I just hurt myself yesterday and it hasn't been healing properly. It’s fine, I’m fine.”

Lance quickly poked Merlin’s side, earning a loud gasp from the warlock. Merlin looked at Lance with wide eyes, shocked. “What the fuck, Lance?”

Lance scoffed. “Fine my ass, Merlin. If you say that one more time, I’ll throw you in the river.” 

Merlin scowled, while Lance just rolled his eyes. “Now, you’re going to go back to camp and let me finish collecting firewood.” And right when Merlin was about to protest, Lance glared at him. “No complaining. I am going to make sure you’re not going to do anything else stupid and hurt yourself more. Merlin,” here Lancelot’s eyes were soft, “I am here for you, always. And I am not letting you hurt yourself more.”

Merlin smiled softly, giving in and hugging the knight. “Thank you, Lance. You know I love you?”

Lance grinned, pushing Merlin gently towards the others. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too.”

Merlin hugged himself as he walked slowly back to camp. If Lance could tell, then maybe he wasn’t as good as hiding his pain as he originally thought. He frowned as he continued, his thoughts moving towards the noticeable silence of the surrounding forest. It seemed a bit too quiet, but he pushed the thought away. I’m starting to sound like Arthur, he thought with a small huff. 

Walking into the clearing, Merlin spotted Gwaine and Percy bent in an intense conversation, Elyan and Arthur parrying in the center, and their sleeping mats all nicely arranged in a circle, so he figured it would be a good time as any to start preparing dinner. Working diligently helped keep his mind off himself. As his thoughts wandered, he didn’t notice the small cracks of sticks and dried leaves coming from the other side of the clearing. 

He did see the shadowy movements, however, right before they attacked. Merlin got up quickly, shouting out an alarm that was just a few seconds too late. And the last thing Merlin saw before he was knocked out was Arthur yelling at him, and then nothing but blackness.

Merlin woke up with a resounding headache. He tried to move his hands, but he forced his eyes open when he realized they were tightly bound. 

He squinted in the bright firelight, seeing many figures encased in darkness. 

“Finally! The warlock awakens.” 

Merlin shook his head, confused. “What?” He said through his gag.

“Ungag him, will you? Let the man talk.”

Someone close to him stepped forwards, the face unremarkable and void of any expression as he roughly took off the covering.

Merlin spit blood to the side before he squinted up once more. “And you are?” Merlin said, sounding bitter and a bit bored. This shit always happens to them.

“Call me Aren.” The man said, the smile heard in his voice, as he stepped into Merlin’s view. He was a tall man with black hair and onyx colored eyes that glinted from the fire.

“Should that mean something to me?” Merlin inquired, knowing that pissing people off was usually his specialty.

Aren’s smile vanished. “We met yesterday. Don’t I look familiar?”

Merlin leaned forwards on his knees, tilting his head. “Hmm, I can’t recall. Though, I don’t usually give many of my enemies much thought.”

That made Aren grin, and Merlin took the quick pause to look more closely around him. All the knights were tied with two or three of their attackers holding them in place. Lance was here, too, so they must have caught him unawares as well. Merlin looked to Arthur next, who was glaring daggers at this Aren man. 

Aren hummed, walking around him. “How is your wound?”

Merlin saw Lance and Elyan straighten at that as Arthur’s head snapped towards the warlock. Merlin feigned confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

The leader nodded to the person to Merlin’s left, and Merlin barely had a second to understand what was going to happen before the man kicked him squarely in the abdomen. 

Merlin screamed as he fell to the ground.

Aren clicked his mouth, disappointed. “See what happens when you lie?”

Merlin grunted, managing to bring himself back to his knees. He felt the blood soaking through his shirt, the color draining from his face, the intensity of the stares of his friends—from horror, or from fear, Merlin couldn’t tell.

“What do you want?” Merlin spit, getting slightly pissed off now. 

Aren shrugged. “What do any of us want, Merlin?”

The warlock lifted his gaze, finally realizing what the man said at the beginning. Warlock. This man knows I’m a warlock. Merlin quickly looked at Arthur in horror. The king looked steadily back at him, no hint of repulsion or betrayal or anger. Maybe he didn’t hear Aren say it, Merlin prayed to any of the gods that was true. 

“Ahh there it is!” Aren cheered. “The recognition. You were quicker yesterday.”

Merlin growled. “And why is it that I can’t remember anything about our little encounter?”

Aren looked to his left, grabbing someone’s hand. “Ah yes. That would be the work of my lady, Taryn. Say hello dear.”

The girl smiled, the expression more wild than not, and did a slight bow before sliding back into the darkness. Aren then watched with clear amusement as Merlin tried to use magic against the bindings. “My dear boy, what are we? Novices?” He scoffed. “We are quite skilled, I’ll have you know.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit who you are or what you know.” A quick pause before Merlin continued: “How about we make a deal?”

Merlin heard Arthur start protesting through his gag knowing what Merlin was going to say, but the warlock tried to ignore him and the unease settled in his gut.

“Yes?” Aren said lightly.

“You can have me, without a fight, if you let my friends go. They are innocents.”

The leader laughed, loudly. “I would hardly call these men innocent, Merlin. They’ve aided and abetted the king of Camelot’s hatred of magic. Watched as true innocents were killed, watched as the king did nothing but stand to the side as our people burned. No one here is innocent.” He snarled the last part towards the group, making them look down in shame. 

“Still,” Merlin pleaded, “you have me, right? That’s all you came for. Let them go.”

Aren’s face darkened a bit, but he still seemed to consider the offer. “Willingly?”

Merlin vehemently nodded, knowing that he had mere minutes before the blood loss made him pass out. 

Aren turned towards Taryn, as Merlin quickly counted how many people there were. Thirteen held his friends down, two were to his left, two to his right, three in front. 

20 people, Merlin mused, shouldn’t be too hard. Right?

He let himself glance at Arthur, who turned to look at him at the same time. Arthur’s eyes didn't look angry, or betrayed, only fierce with a hint of distress. Merlin looked at his King for strength, knowing that if he didn’t believe their captors about his magic, he would soon. And Merlin wanted to remember his face like this—strong, unyielding, protective. His king, soon to be his doom. Merlin shut his own eyes, swallowing the terror of what he was about to do in front of his friends. If he were to die from this either way, at least his friends would make it out alive. 

With resignation and determination pounding in his blood, Merlin opened his eyes. He heard the gasps of everyone, and he knew his eyes were no longer the color of the sky, but a fiery gold. Aren snapped his head at the noise, eyes widening at Merlin.

“That’s not possible,” the man shook his head violently, “the cuffs—“

Merlin gave him a feral smile before the world ignited into a burning white light. 

Landing on his face, Merlin felt his energy quickly fade into a numbness. He laid there, breathing unsteadily, when he felt hands lift him up.

Elyan, Gwaine, and Lance surrounded him, the latter two holding him on his feet as Elyan took out his sword in front of them, Percy quickly joining the knight in front. 

Merlin coughed out blood, whimpering a little at the lack of any feeling in his body. His eyesight was blurred, but he saw Arthur stand up slowly, his hands raised like he was taming wild animals.

Merlin gasped, remembering, albeit slowly, what happened. He stumbled away, his breathing quickening, his heart pounding too quickly, too quickly. He fell, the pain in his side returning full force. The knights tried to help him, but he pushed them away, tears streaming down his face. “No, no, no,” Merlin cried, “I’m going to die. He is going to kill me.”

He saw Lance and Gwaine quickly look at each other, fear on their faces, as they stepped towards him. Merlin sobbed. “No, no, no. Get away from me. No, no!”

He couldn’t breathe. The ground started spinning beneath him, the trees started falling towards him, he heard screams, but that could’ve been himself, as the world crashed into blackness once more.

“aking up? Gaius!”

Merlin couldn’t move. His eyes felt like they had been sewn shut, and his throat felt like he had been screaming for hours on end.

“Ga’s?” Merlin rasped out, reaching out his hand for his father figure.

“I’m here, my boy, I’m here.” Gaius touched his hand, feeling his forehead with the other. “Your fever has finally gone away.” Merlin heard Gaius move away for a moment, only to return with a glass of water. He forced his eyes to open, lifting them to the court physician.

“How do you feel, Merlin?”

After gulping down the entire cup, Merlin sighed contentedly. “Like absolute shit.”

Gaius chuckled. “I would imagine.” The man helped Merlin into a sitting position, the pain in his side almost nonexistent.

“What happened, Gaius?”

Merlin looked past his caretaker, eyes landing on the king. “Arthur? Why-?”

The sad look on Arthur’s face was enough to remind Merlin exactly what happened. Merlin gasped, looking towards Gaius in terror, “Gaius had nothing to do with it, my lord. I promise.” And then remembering what the knights did, he quickly added, “Neither did the knights, I swear on my life. If I am to burn, please keep them out of it. I’ll do anything, just please don't hurt them.”

Arthur’s face fell even more, the hurt shining brightly in the king’s eyes. At the moment of silence, Gaius rubbed Merlin’s back and whispered, “Merlin, Arthur knew. It’s okay, we are all going to be okay.” And with that, the man left them alone.

Merlin couldn’t think straight. His thoughts flew faster than ever, trying to connect the pieces he was obviously missing.

“Merlin…” Arthur whispered, his voice sounding scratchy from disuse. Now that Merlin actually looked at him, the king looked horrible. His blonde hair disheveled, his stubble longer than normal, his shirt and pants dirty, his eyes baring darkness indicating he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a long time.

“Arthur..?” Merlin said softly, a question, a concern.

Arthur got up then, and he started pacing. Merlin could do nothing but watch as his king—his light, his reason for living—pulled violently at his hair. Confused, Merlin wanted to comfort Arthur, as always, but as he tried to get up, his legs immediately failed him. Merlin closed his eyes, expecting to hit the floor hard, when he felt strong hands hold him up.

“Merlin! You need to sit down and rest, what are you doing?”

Merlin held onto Arthur, his hands finding their way to his king’s shoulders to steady himself. They locked eyes for a minute, or for an hour—Merlin couldn’t tell—before Merlin broke it with a quiet question. “Do you hate me?”

Arthur tensed beneath his hands, and Merlin’s heart fell. It was too much to wish that this wasn’t the end. Merlin tried to stop his tears from coming, but it was no use. His heart was broken. He felt broken.

“No, no! Why are you crying, Merlin? Are you in pain?” Arthur sounded genuinely concerned, breaking Merlin even more.

“I’m fine.” Merlin tried to push himself away from him, but Arthur held on steadfast.

“Merlin, look at me, please Merlin.” And after a few beats, Merlin did. He saw Arthur’s beautiful cerulean eyes bright with unshed tears.

“I don’t hate you.”

That made Merlin’s knees weak, but Arthur didn’t let go, and he didn’t stop talking, either. It was almost like once Arthur started, he couldn’t stop.

“I don’t hate you, and I don’t think I ever could, if I’m being honest. You know what I am? Angry. Not at you keeping your secrets, or lying to me for years. I worked through that all already—I’ve been doing it for months. I always came to the same question, though. Why? Why risk yourself like this? Why help me? Why stay at my side when I’ve been unworthy of that devotion? That question wouldn’t leave me alone. I would watch you tidy up my room, humming, and wonder what on earth is keeping you at my side? At first, I was angry. Angry that you lied, angry that you were the enemy the entire time, angry that everything we had was a lie.”

Arthur tighten his hold after Merlin flinched at the words, and the king started rubbing absentminded circles on the warlock’s skin.

“But, after keeping you at a distance for a week, I’m not sure if you remember that,” Merlin did. Vividly. Arthur wouldn’t let him near him, and he wouldn’t tell Merlin why. But after that week, they returned to semi-normacy. Merlin was unsure what happened, and Arthur still held himself tightly whenever Merlin entered the room.

“I realized how stupid I was. I asked Gaius to tell me everything, not that he did it easily. He refused to know anything I was talking about,” Arthur rolled his eyes, “like I would ever believe that. But after a few days, and countless promises that I meant no harm, he told me. I was in shock for a bit after. Gaius said he didn’t have all the details, and that I should talk to you, but I was scared. Merlin. I was scared to find out why.”

Merlin still couldn’t stop the tears from falling as Arthur gently lowered him onto the cot, the king sitting next to him, still rubbing those damn patterns onto Merlin’s skin.

“Watching you for a couple more days, I started scolding myself for my own cowardice. I started thinking why the question mattered that much, why I cared at all for someone who obviously never truly trusted me. I get it, though, Merlin,” here Arthur stared directly into Merlin’s eyes, not wavering for a second, “why you never told me. Fuck, I wouldn’t have told me either if I was in your place. When did I ever give you a reason to?” Arthur scoffed at himself, still tensed and worked up.

Merlin couldn’t get a word in before Arthur continued on. “And last week, I decided enough is enough. I needed to tell you I knew. It wasn’t fair of me to keep it from you, not when you live your life in such a constant state of fear of Camelot’s laws. I needed to tell you how I was almost done rewriting the laws, how close I was to freeing your people, how sorry I was for being so idiotically blinded by my father’s hatred. And when you agreed to go to the hunt with me, I was already prepared with my speech. With you and my knights, I was going to explain the changes I was making, and I thought that would be the perfect time to tell you I knew.”

Arthur got up again, walking back and forth. “Of course it all went to shit, though, because when can we ever get a break? And, gods, Merlin, I was so angry at you for putting yourself in more danger! What was that? Not telling me you were hurt? I had to find out by some assholes kicking you so hard that you scream in pain! Merlin,” the king turned to face him, walking back to the cot, “the sound almost broke me.”

Merlin’s tears were a steady companion as Arthur took up his seat once more, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands. “You were in agony, and I couldn’t do anything! Powerless, and terrified, and fucking useless. When you looked at me before turning into white hot flame, I saw your fear, your terror, your resignation that this was your end. I screamed, then, when you closed your eyes. I screamed at the men holding me, at the world for watching this happen, at the gods who did nothing to help. But you,” Arthur shook his head, eyes full of amazement, “You lit up. You burned so brightly, I had to shut my eyes. I’ve never seen such raw power, Merlin, you were brilliant.”

Merlin repeated the word quietly to himself, brilliant.

Arthur shook his head again, his eyes darkening. “After that, you started freaking out. You were sobbing, yelling you couldn’t breathe, backing away from everyone. Even as the knights tried to tell you that they understood, that they knew, you didn’t believe them. Gaius says you were delirious from the blood loss and the use of such magic, and it scared me. I thought we were going to lose you,” Arthur’s absentminded rubbing returned, the feeling burning through Merlin’s skin.

“The knights, Merlin, you should’ve seen them. Elyan and Percy had their weapons towards me, as Gwaine tried to help Lance pick you up. But you wouldn’t let them, saying for them to run, that they needed to get out of there. Lancelot managed to calm you down enough that you passed out, but no one moved. They were ready to protect you until their last breath, even if that meant leaving me behind to get you to safety. I explained to them quickly what I knew, and they immediately moved aside to let me near you. I had to get to you, and I think the knights saw that too.

We carried you to the horses and rode to Camelot, faster than anything we’ve ever done before. Gaius was able to stop the bleeding, but you had such a high fever for days. I didn’t leave your side. I wouldn’t. The knights came in at the beginning, and they promised me that you would be fine if I left for a moment, but I couldn’t move. You thought I hated you, I saw it in your eyes, and every time I closed my own, that was the only thing I saw. They realized it was quite a lost cause and they began to take turns staying with us, each of them telling me how they came to realize your magic. Elyan found out accidentally through Gwen, who threatened him if he harmed you in anyway, Gwaine apparently always had an inkling, ever since the plate incident when we first met him, and Percy said he had no idea, but he knew what kind of person you are and he would defend you to his dying breath.”

Merlin’s breathing hitched, the overwhelming feeling of acceptance smothering his lungs.

“Lancelot was the fiercest, if you were wondering. It took a lot of explaining on my part before he let me near you again. I knew Lancelot’s loyalty was with you, but the depth of it shook me to my core. All the knights seem more loyal to you, it seems, than their own king,” here Arthur smiled, “and I am proud of that, of them. They knew you, all of you, and did not hesitate to protect. I knew I made the correct choice picking my roundtable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Merlin nodded, still stunned enough by it all that he couldn’t say a word.

Arthur grabbed his hand then, turning himself towards the warlock. “So, no, Merlin. I do not hate you. I was mad that you put yourself at danger once again, so please stop doing that. You’re going to put me in an early grave from worry, and I think Gaius and the knights agree with me.”

Merlin gave a wet laugh, “I can’t promise that, Arthur, you know that.”

Arthur’s soft smile returned, and Merlin couldn’t help but stare at the man’s face. This was the king he chose, here was the reason he put himself at danger. Arthur wiped away Merlin’s tears, and Merlin leaned into the touch as Arthur’s fingers gently stroked his cheek.

They had so much more to discuss and to plan, but for now, Merlin let himself feel acceptance for the first time since he’s moved to Camelot. He let himself feel loved, cared for, understood.

No, this wasn’t the end of anything, Merlin realized, only the beginning of something greater.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Feathers for the Pillows

Prompt: Hey there, I have a prompt for you if you'll take it! I absolutely loved your wingfics with Virgil, and was wondering if we could have something similar with Merlin? Maybe with his magic slowly turning him into a more ethereal magical being and giving him wings that he has to figure out how to deal with and hide? Possibly Arthur finding out? Thank you!

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3776

A bird falls out of the sky when Merlin is little. 

Merlin didn’t realize it was happening at first.

 He was young, still learning how his human body worked, how his magic worked, how to play and run and jump and laugh. His mother looked on fondly and shook her head, wondering how the gods could’ve created such a boisterous little boy and then had the idea to give him magic on top. Perhaps in some way, it was a way to keep himself safe, when he toppled off of shelves he’d managed to float himself up into, or when he fell from trees that he was too young to climb. Or perhaps it was another of their tricks, something to keep the mortals busy and entertained while they plotted. Either way, Merlin has magic and he runs about the woods, leaves dancing along in his wake, the forest itself opening up and welcoming him into its shadows. Patches of golden light draw forth the gold from Merlin’s eyes. The forest breathes.

 A bird falls out of the sky.

 It lands in front of Merlin, strangely still. It looks at him with dull, cloudy eyes. The light glints off of its feathers. There are three bent out of place. It lies on a bed of leaves and looks at Merlin.

 Merlin stops, tilting his head as he looks back. The bird’s eyes are unfocused, staring not at Merlin’s face but through it. The beak is open partway, the head cocked to the side. The wind ruffles its wings. The feathers twitch. It won’t look away from Merlin.

 Merlin gulps, reaching out his chubby little hands and taking a step closer. Does the bird want his clothes?

 “Merlin?” His mother’s voice comes from far away. “Merlin, it’s time to eat!”

 Merlin stops, looking once more at the bird before turning around and running back home. The bird’s eyes watch him go.

 Merlin dreams of flying.

 When he’s just turning into a young man, his back starts to hurt all the time. His mother frets that he’s working too hard, but he mumbles that he’s been using magic, he’s not putting any strain on his back. She cuffs him lightly across the shoulder, but the furrow between her brows doesn’t disappear. It only deepens as Merlin’s back worsens, when little lips begin to appear beneath his shoulder blades.

 She sends him to Camelot.

 Gaius looks him over and raises an eyebrow—the first time Merlin sees the eyebrow of magical disbelief, but certainly not the last—and points Merlin to a drawing of a man with wings.

 “They will grow,” Gaius explains solemnly, “but they will not hurt you.”

 “They’re hurting me now,” Merlin grumbles, reaching around to scratch at his back. Gaius stops him.

 “Growing pains are to be expected,” he says, “but they will get worse if you do not let them grow in properly.”

 “How’m I supposed to do that?”

 Neither of them knows. Neither of them knows because Merlin is magic, under Uther Pendragon’s nose, as the servant of the Crown Prince Arthur.

 They can’t bind the wings as they grow. They can’t excuse Merlin’s back pain as anything other than back pain. They can only pad Merlin up with ill-fitting tunics so much.

 Arthur doesn’t notice.

 After a year, they’re fully grown. The feathers are…unruly, but small enough and white enough that they can be passed off as ornamentation, discarded from some elaborate headdress. The wings can fold up under his tunic and stay hidden, so long as no one touches him.

 Well, that won’t be a problem.

 He moves through the castle too fast for people to get a good look at him. The knights don’t want to look at him. Arthur only cuffs him upside the head.

 His secret is safe.

 Then he undergoes his first molt and he lies in agony for a day, as Gaius tries his best to care for the wings. The feathers overflow, crowding the room, until Merlin can figure out that they can make pillows out of them. It takes a moment for them to appear in the rest of the castle, but Morgana comes by to ask whether she can have an extra one. Apparently, they help with her nightmares.

 Merlin is more than happy to oblige, at least until Morgana asks him where he gets the feathers from.

 “Um…”

 “Oh, don’t worry,” she winks, giving his arm a gentle pat, “I won’t tell. Just make sure you bring plenty, hmm?”

 Morgana touches him. It’s always sweet, just a quick pat on his arm or his shoulder, but she touches him. She notices. Gwen notices too. And Gwen sticks by his side, is allowed to stick by his side, when the feasts and the council meetings happen and they work.

 “Merlin,” she admonishes one hot night, “you must take off at least one of those shirts, you’re going to boil to death.”

 “I’m fine, Gwen,” Merlin says, wiping sweat off his brow, “I’ll only be cold in a few minutes.”

 His hands are always cold.

 The wings don’t like always being cooped up under his tunic, so he stretches them every once in a while. He goes out of Camelot, far away from the prying lights of the high walls, and sits in the forest, stretching his wings. They are a little stiff sometimes, but he works patiently until he can unfurl them painlessly, letting the extra feathers slide off to be collected.

 “You really must tell me where you’re getting all these feathers, Merlin,” Morgana remarks one day, “maybe I’ll have to place an order large enough for a shawl.”

 Merlin gulps. “I can—I can see?”

 “Oh, I’m only teasing,” she says, taking him gently by the arm, “I know you’ve got more important things to do.”

 “Merlin!”

 “Like tending to Arthur,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as Arthur storms around the corner.

 “There you are, come on. Job for you.”

 “Coming.”

 No, Arthur doesn’t notice.

 The knights…the knights.

 Leon notices, Leon notices everything. Although he doesn’t realize exactly what he’s noticing, Merlin watches him approach after a training session and carefully pull him to his feet.

 “Can it be healed,” the knight asks softly, far too quiet for the others to hear, “what ails you?”

 “What?”

 Leon gestures to Merlin’s back. “I have known men that…cannot be healed as easily.”

 Merlin’s shoulders slump. “No, it’s not…it’s the way I am.”

 “I understand. Please,” Leon says, resting a kind hand on his shoulder, “do not hesitate to tell me if there are things that I can do to make this easier.”

 Leon notices everything, Lancelot notices Merlin.

 Merlin doesn’t bother to hide his magic from Lancelot. The man met him and knew, and he takes very great pains to make sure that Merlin knows his secret is safe with Lancelot. Merlin finds himself leaning on Lancelot more than he would care to admit, even going so far as to physically lean on the man. Lancelot never minds, always reaching to stealthily make it a little easier for Merlin to stand. But Lancelot doesn’t put together that Merlin has wings.

 “I’ll help you,” Lancelot promises when merlin says he doesn’t want to tell him, “you don’t owe me an explanation.”

 Merlin lets himself slump forward into Lancelot gratefully.

 Lancelot helps quietly, Gwaine helps loudly.

 Whenever Merlin beings to slump, needing a break, Gwaine makes the loudest, most obnoxious distraction he can, be that some loud bawdy joke, some great exclamation, or knocking over a massive shelf of newly polished pie tins. He plays up his clumsiness, his ‘common’ nature, all to make everyone else more focused on him than on Merlin.

 “Let them think what they will,” he says to Merlin by the fire one night as they keep watch, “I don’t care. As long as you’re okay.”

 “Even if you don’t…know why?”

 Gwaine shrugs. “I trust you.”

 Merlin smiles.

 Gwaine distracts, Elyan suggests.

 The first time Elyan notices Merlin wincing every time something comes near his back, he brings Merlin to the armory and suggests a leather tunic.

 “It might help with support,” he says, pointing out the different points on the back, “and give your spine a little less to deal with.”

 “…could it be made to fit under clothing?”

 “Of course. I’ve got a friend that works down in the blacksmith’s district that makes ones to go under ladies’ clothes.”

 Merlin looks at it and promises to think about it. In truth, if it’s going to be fitted properly, they’re going to have to see his wings.

 That’s not a risk he’s willing to take.

 But he does promise that Elyan can make him something to make things a little easier.

 “I won’t pry,” Elyan promises, “but you’ll let us help, yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 Elyan puts things together, Percival pulls things apart.

 “Easy,” the knight mutters as Merlin winces, “almost there.”

 Merlin grits his teeth and pulls, straining away from the metal digging into his back. Percival grunts, holding it apart.

 “On three, ready?”

 “Ready.”

 “One…two…three.”

 Merlin yanks. The metal comes apart in Percival’s hand and the force sends the two staggering apart, panting. Percival tosses the remains over his shoulder.

 “That’s the last time I put one of those on,” Merlin grumbles, rubbing his shoulder.

 Arthur had the great idea to do full melee drills today. Problem is, with Arthur standing back to watch, the knights are an odd number. Which means that Merlin was placed in a suit and made to hold a lance. The metal pressed his wings flat to his back and squeezed, making it hard for Merlin to stand, much less fight.

 Percival had taken one look at him and ushered him away, using his strength to pry apart the pieces to get Merlin free.

 “Are you alright,” he asks, using a voice that Merlin has never heard before, “are you very badly hurt?”

 “No, I’ll be fine.”

 “Good.” Percival lays a large hand on Merlin’s back, only for Merlin to flinch away. “Sorry.”

 “Just…” Merlin shakes his head. “Go tell Arthur I’ll be back in a minute, yeah?”

 Percival leaves with a nod.

 The knights notice, even if it’s not everything.

 Then Morgana walks in without knocking while Merlin’s wings are out and he freezes.

 “Oh,” she breathes, dropping the pieces of fabric she holds, looking at Merlin’s wings spread wide, “Merlin, they’re beautiful.”

 Merlin is too shocked to make a sound.

 Morgana closes the door softly, walking forward with her hands outstretched. “I won’t hurt you, Merlin, I promise, I just…wow.”

 Merlin swallows. “Are you…you’re not afraid?”

 “You’re Merlin,” Morgana smiles gently, “how could I be afraid?”

 “They’re magic.”

 “Yes.”

 “And you’re still not afraid?”

 “No.” She reaches out tentatively. “May I?”

 Merlin shudders as her hands lightly brush one of his feathers. She makes a soft noise.

 “These are where those feathers come from,” she murmurs, “aren’t they?”

 “…they’re mine.”

 “They’re lovely,” she promises, her smile so wide, “and so are you.”

 She giggles as Merlin flushes red.

 Morgana vows to keep it a secret, and in turn, Merlin teaches her about magic. Her nightmares fade away as she sleeps on pillows they make together, as Merlin carefully grooms his wings and Morgana teaches him how to embroider. They keep it a secret, under the watchful eye of Gaius, sewing, and plucking and talking in the night. Gwen comes to join them, smiling wide and bringing Merlin into a gentle hug as he shows her for the first time. Her hands at the base of his spine feel warm.

 “Do they hurt much?”

 “Not anymore,” Merlin says, giving them an experimental shake, “I’ve…gotten used to it.”

 “Well, you must let us help you when they hurt,” Morgana says, rethreading her needle, “if only as an act of repayment.”

 “Repay—Morgana…”

“You’ve given us the gift of your feathers,” Morgana interrupts, “not to mention all that you’ve done for Camelot. For me.”

 “And for me.”

 “But I—“

 “You’re lovely, Merlin,” Morgana promises, smiling when Merlin flushes red again, “let us help you?”

 And what can Merlin do but say yes?

 They do help, but there’s not a whole lot they can do. It just…it hurts sometimes.

 The feathers will itch. The wing joints will grow still and stiff. And when the wings grow still and stiff they’re just pounds of dead weight, almost impossible to hide. Merlin grows slow on these days, unable to bound up the steps after Arthur or dart about the castle. Instead, he sits and does small chores, like polishing armor or writing speeches. Morgana will sit with him if she can, sewing. Gwen will fetch her own chores and they’ll do them together. The knights will sit with him and keep the other eyes of the castle away.

 Arthur…Arthur doesn’t do much.

 And really, really well…isn’t that why it might hurt so badly?

 Merlin spends nearly all of his time with Arthur. He knows more about Arthur than he does about nearly everyone, maybe even more than he knows about himself, and Arthur just…doesn’t care?

 That makes the wings grow a little heavier.

 One day, it’s very bad. Merlin can’t roll over, can’t dislodge the weight on his back. It makes it hard to breathe with his chest smashed as it is against the mattress. He stares at the wall, blinking, unfocused, not seeing anything but the vague light and dark spots against the solid gray of the stone. It hurts. He feels dull, lifeless, unable to summon any energy to move.

 His eyes begin to cloud over as he lies still.

 Soft footsteps outside his door. The door opening slowly and closing just as slowly. The creak of the floorboards as someone walks to sit next to his head. Red jerkin. Brown trousers. Golden hair.

 …Arthur?

 “Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “hard day?”

 Merlin nods, confused as to why Arthur’s here and why he’s not shouting at Merlin to get his lazy arse out of bed.

 “Are you feeling alright?”

 The answer that Arthur probably wants is ‘yes.’ The honest answer is ‘no.’ The very  honest answer is ‘why do you care?’

 Merlin settles for shaking his head.

 Arthur makes a noise of sympathy, reaching forward to card his fingers lightly through Merlin’s greasy hair. His fingers reach through to Merlin’s scalp, scratching gently.

 “Arthur?”

 “Yes, Merlin,” Arthur says immediately, “it’s only me. Does it hurt very much today?”

 Merlin frowns. How…what…what is Arthur doing?

 “Did Gaius…Gaius tell you?”

 “No, Merlin. I figured that when you didn’t show up today that something might be wrong, so I…came to check.” Arthur smiles and ruffles Merlin’s hair. “Good thing I did.”

“Not—I meant about my—my—“

 Merlin runs of out air, twisting his head as he is to look up at Arthur from his position on his stomach.

 “Easy,” Arthur says, gentling Merlin’s head back to the pillow, “rest your neck. I’ll talk, yeah?”

 Merlin’s too exhausted to do anything but obey.

 “No, Gaius didn’t tell me about your back, Merlin.”

 “…Morgana?”

 “No, not Morgana.”

 “Gwen?”

 “Not Gwen.”

 “…knights?”

 “Not the knights either.” Arthur’s hand reaches down to scratch at the base of Merlin’s head. “No one had to tell me, Merlin.”

 But Arthur…but he…

 “You never noticed,” Merlin mumbles, half into the pillow, “not…ever. Not before.”

 “About your back?” When Merlin nods, Arthur huffs gently. “Merlin, I noticed the first day you arrived in Camelot.”

  What?

 “I just…well, I figured you were…that you may be ashamed of it,” Arthur continues, a little sheepish, “or maybe I assumed you’d prefer if I never brought it up.”

 “S-so…so you…”

 “I always knew, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, “but I…no, I’m—I’m sorry I never said anything.”

 “…oh.”

 Arthur shifts, getting off the stool to kneel on the floor, his face next to Merlin’s, his hand still rubbing the base of Merlin’s skull. “Can I make up for that a little by helping now?”

 Merlin nods.

 “Right,” Arthur murmurs, “now…thank you, firstly. Second, have you tried getting out of bed today?”

 Merlin shakes his head, growing more and more miserable.

 “Alright…would you like to?”

 “…’ve got work.”

 “That wasn’t what I asked,” Arthur chides gently, “I asked if you’d like to get out of bed.”

 He smiles kindly when Merlin seems to flounder for an answer.

 “I can help you get out of bed if you like,” he says, “but…you are also allowed to lie here for today. Especially if it hurts. I’ll stay with you.”

 “You…you will?”

 Arthur smiles, petting Merlin’s hair again. “Of course.”

 Merlin closes his eyes, losing himself in the gentle pats. It…it might be nice to try and sleep again, but…but his wings might just hurt more when he wakes up.

 “No?” Arthur nods when Merlin shakes his head. “Alright. Let’s…let’s see if we can at least sit you up.”

 He tucks a palm under Merlin’s head and holds it steady, reaching low and wrapping his arm around Merlin’s waist.

 “Hang on.”

 Merlin’s back strains with the wings as Arthur begins to sit him up, only for Arthur to grunt and pull harder.

 “You’re much heavier than you look, Merlin,” he says worriedly, “are you—are you sure you’re not hurt?”

 “I—I’m—“

 “Are they broken?”

 Merlin freezes.

 He looks slowly at Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

 “Come on. My Merlin doesn’t get to grow wings and not have me notice.”

 “I—I—“

“Shh,” Arthur soothes, his arms still tightly around Merlin, “it’s alright. Do I look angry?”

 “N-no, but—“

 “I’m not. I’m worried.” Arthur nods at Merlin’s wings. “Are they broken?”

 “N-no, just…just stiff.”

 “Alright. Can I…can I help?”

 Merlin swallows. Arthur…Arthur knows. Arthur’s not angry. Arthur’s not…angry?

 “My Merlin,” Arthur murmurs, gently bumping his head against Merlin’s, “of course I’m not angry, you’re lovely.”

 He chuckles when Merlin flushes red again, adjusting his grip to help the blanket stay on Merlin’s shoulders.

 “Will you let me help?”

 Merlin’s fingers tighten in the front of Arthur’s jerkin and he nods.

 “I’m going to take the blanket off now, okay?”

 The blanket falls to the bed and Merlin’s wings unfurl, spreading as wide as they can, trying to stretch. Arthur’s breath catches in his throat as he holds onto Merlin.

 “Oh, Merlin…”

 “They hurt,” he mumbles, “they hurt.”

 “Alright,” Arthur mutters to himself, “alright. Let’s do this.”

 The bed sinks behind him as Arthur carefully positions himself between the wings. He reaches out to gently card his fingers through the wings, going right to the glands.

  “Ah!”

 “Sorry,” Arthur mumbles, “I’ll be more gentle.”

 “How—“ Merlin shudders and gasps as Arthur’s warm, warm hands move easily through his wings— “how do you know how to do this?”

 “The stable has hawks,” Arthur murmurs, gently sorting out the stiff joints, “and I learned how to tend to them when the stable master taught me to hunt.”

 “So—so you—ah!”

 Merlin can hear the smile in Arthur’s voice as he rubs his thumb around the base of the joint connecting Merlin’s wing to his back. “Yes, Merlin, I know what I’m doing.”

 Merlin has never been touched like this.

 Arthur knows just how to stroke the muscles to get them to relax, to pull out the broken and crumpled feathers and work the oil throughout. He knows just how gentle to be when he swipes his thumb across the gland, knows just how firm to be when he runs his fingers through the base of the wings. He knows Merlin, knows how to pause when Merlin shudders too much, how to reassure him that he’s almost there, just a moment, please.

 “H-how—“ Merlin bits back another gasp as Arthur straightens a particularly stubborn feather— “how did you n-not tell me?”

 “I thought you were ashamed of them,” Arthur says softly, resting his hands at the base of Merlin’s sides, “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

 “I…”

 Was he?

 “…I was ashamed of my—of the magic,” he stumbles, “and I…”

 “Oh, Merlin,” Arthur says quietly, reaching forward to wrap his arms around Merlin’s waist, “you should never be ashamed of your magic.”

 He chuckles when he feels Merlin gasp under his hands.

 “That one you can blame on everyone else not doing a good job of hiding it.”

 “Don’t be mad at them,” Merlin blurts, “please, it’s not their fault—“

 “Shh,” Arthur rumbles, reaching up to scratch at the soft part of Merlin’s wings again, “I’m not. Just...you can exhale now, Merlin, it’s alright.”

 Merlin breathes. His wings flutter a little. A tiny gold glimmer darts around the feathers. He relaxes back into Arthur’s arms, letting Arthur hold his weight and his wings.

 “You’re alright, now…”

 A soft knock on the door.

 “Who is it?”

 “Morgana.”

 “And Gwen!”

 “Merlin?” Arthur chuckles when Merlin just mumbles. “Come in.”

 Morgana giggles as she catches sight of Merlin all sprawled out on Arthur’s chest. “Seems Arthur started feather collecting earlier, hmm?”

 “Feather collecting?”

 “You didn’t think those pillows made themselves, did you?”

 Gwen rolls her eyes as the two bicker, reaching to gently pull Merlin forward to hug him.

 “You feeling a little better?”

 “A little.”

 Gwen smiles. “I’m so glad. You look…a little lighter too.”

 Merlin smiles back.

 “He hasn’t told you either?”

 Merlin glances around to see Morgana shaking her head. Arthur huffs.

 “Well, now we both have to ask him.”

 Merlin’s face goes pale. “A-ask me what?”

 “Don’t look so afraid,” Morgana says, “it ruins your lovely face.”

 …well, he’s not pale anymore.

 “Stop flirting with my Merlin.”

 “Oh he’s your Merlin, now, is he?”

 “He’s always been my Merlin.”

 “What did you want to ask me,” Merlin interrupts before his face can get any redder.

 “Right.” Arthur claps his hands. “Can you fly?”

 “What?”

 “Can you fly?” Arthur gestures to the wings. “Or are they just there to be pretty?”

 “What happened to no flirting?”

 “Oh, that’s just for you.”

 “Rude.”

 “I, um…” Merlin twists his hands together. “I’ve never tried.”

 Morgana looks at Arthur. Arthur looks at Morgana. They both look at Merlin. Gwen giggles.

 Merlin sighs.

 “Tomorrow?”

 “Tomorrow.”

 Merlin dreams of flying.

[scoooby]

The Reason to Live (is to Die For This)

Read on AO3

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Beta: @tenderlyannoyinglight

Word count: 6.3k

Trigger warning: descriptions of pain, death and violence.

Relationship: Merlin/Arthur *if you don't like merthur it can be taken as gen if you skip the last hundred words

Summary:

"I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't.

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of. He should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him. But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him."

In which Merlin is stabbed instead of Arthur. Oops.

Merlin doesn't know where the blood came from, flowing down and not stopping. There's so much of it staining the ground and his clothes, forming a puddle, he feels dizzy and nauseous looking at it. It's been almost ten years, but the sight of injury still repulses him. It scares him even more because he can't find its source. No, it terrifies him. Whose blood is it? Where is he, exactly? But he tries not to dwell on it and wonders where Arthur is. Wasn't he just here? Silly Arthur, always disappearing.

He giggles, then sobers up. He has more important things to worry about. Like the blood. Blood is so red. Like strawberries. He wishes he could make strawberries right now, Freya likes them. Speaking of which, he should probably talk to her soon.

He touches his hand to his abdomen, startled when he feels something wet and sticky. Oh.

Oh.

It's his blood. He's been maimed. He's the one dying.

I don't want to leave him. He thinks. I can't .

It shouldn't be the first thing he thinks of, and he should be thinking of his mother, Gaius, Gwen. He should be thinking of how Kilgharrah had said he was an immortal, but Kilgharrah is also a big lying liar who lies, so he shouldn't have believed him.  But he doesn't think of any of those things, after ten years of sacrificing, his brain is wired to think of Arthur, only of him.

It shouldn’t be. He should be more carefree and alive and happy, like he is now. And he’s so happy.

He distantly hears a thud behind him, as if something heavy, clad in metal, had fallen.  Swords are made of metal. So is armour. Stupid armour. It takes so fucking long to put armour on Arthur.

He feels hysteria rise up in his throat, he feels like laughing, He doesn’t know why. He’s been stabbed, he should care more. But those thoughts don’t even hit him. He wants to run, to jump. He could fly, like Kilgharrah. Or Aithusa. Can Aithusa fly? He would have to ask Morgana.

But Morgana doesn’t like him.

Maybe Balinor would know when dragons start to fly. He knows a lot, right?

Oh, but he can’t. Balinor is dead. Balinor is extremely dead and rotting. Hunith would be sad if she found out, he doesn’t want her to be sad. She deserves the world. He won’t tell her.

“Don’t worry,” he coos, even though there’s no one there. “I won’t tell.”

He tries to get up, but his knees are weak. He doesn't know why his ears have started to ring. Hhhhh. Hhh. That’s all he hears. It sounds weird. Weird. Weirdweirdweirdweirdweird. What a word, All words should be like it.

Everything is just a blob of grey and black. All he sees is a spinning world and green spots in the corner of his vision. He doesn’t mind, he likes green. He tries to say something, to scream maybe, yet all that comes out is a small, meagre groan.

He feels his eyes closing- And that's it. That's all there is-numbness, and then nothing.

Arthur is not ashamed to admit that he killed Mordred. The knight almost killed Merlin and dared to smile after doing so. Arthur couldn't just let him get away with it, no matter how much it pained him. Guilt doesn’t even come to mind. Mordred isn’t worth it - he tells himself as he walks, knees shaking, towards his manservant's body laying still on the ground.

He's bleeding at an alarming rate. His eyes are closed; his face deathly pale. Arthur doesn't bother with modesty as he rips the stupid brown jacket off (one would think he would come into battle wearing proper armor, at least). He had imagined doing it many times before, in entirely different circumstances, maybe with a bed underneath them.

Merlin torso is littered with scars as wood is with lines. Most of them are healed, so that only white lines are painting Merlin’s pale skin, while others are red, but still no cause for intervention. An enormous hole inflicted near his lungs, however does. Arthur’s not new to blood or injuries, but looking at this one does make him wanna vomit.

He stops, unsure of what to do. His hands hover over the body. What can he do, dammit? He knows first aid, Gaius taught him some when he was little. Nothing has ever come  close or as grave as to this. He has been taught to call for the help of nurses, never to do it himself. He has to stop the bleeding, but how ? He's supposed to tie something around it; he remembers that much at least. He looks towards Merlin's face, exhausted and un-moving, a red cloth loosely tied around his neck. All he has to do to stop the blood temporarily, until he delivers Merlin to safe, more medically trained hands, is to tie the stupid red neckerchief around and hope for it to be the right thing.

He prays as he puts it around the gash. He's not entirely sure who he's praying to. It’s an unconscious reflex to beg for health. To be able to say it is someone else's fault, because he knows it's his. He should never have let Merlin come in front of him; let the sword pierce him. Damn him; damn Merlin; damn Mordred; damn the War; damn Morgana; damn everything.

It sickens him, all of it. This cave, this life. The air is dirty. The metallic smell of blood engulfing everything and making it its own. Throwing up would sound like a good idea if Arthur didn’t have more pressing matter at hand.

The air also smells of disappointment. What is he even doing? He's just two years into his reign, the army is practically gone. So many knights are dying in his name, right now,  with their belief in him. And now Merlin is going to die too.

No. Merlin can't die, I won't allow it. His resolve hardens as he picks him up in his arms, Merlin’s head on his shoulder, back bent so gravity can keep the blood inside. and carries him through the mass of dead bodies. Arthur places him on the horse and climbs on behind him, arms on the reins and still supporting Merlin’s head.

It's a long ride home. You have to make it. For him. Is the only thought he clings to.

The aftermath of the war lingers everywhere. Bodies within quarter of a mile of another, their sunken eyes staring at them as the ride past.

No one stops them, too busy focusing on their own injured. Arthur's head is down to not see them. They probably hate him. With all of his being, he agrees.

Morgana, from an early age, showed to be better fitted for the crown. Might have even made Camelot a better place, once upon a time, in a time long gone.

Now they're both just as terrible and ill-fitted for his home.

He tries not to think of her, it’s too painful. So, he focuses on saving Merlin again. Merlin. His best friend, who he had always hoped would become something more. His rock, the only one he could trust. Something he has proved over and over again, but something he had realised only during his father's funeral.

Uther’s death is a recent memory. Arthur had cried until there were no tears left to shed over anyone else after. Not out of love or grievance. His father’s love for him was long gone before he himself was. But because the moment Uther’s life ended, Arthur’s reign began and the feeling of no support or companionship with it. Morgana was gone. Ygraine had never been there to begin with, and the overwhelming responsibility hit him- hard . He had felt so alone. There was no one there for him. No one cared.

Then Merlin had placed a hand on his shoulder, whispered to him, told him he was going to be a great king and that he was sorry. As if Merlin was at fault. As if he wasn't the only reason Arthur was still standing.

It made him see more clearly that he might not ruin the kingdom- his kingdom. A spark of heat, mixed with joy and sorrow ignited like wildfire spread all over his chest, then back, arms and legs followed soon, and finally his face; he returned Merlin’s sentiment with a warm smile.

Maybe that's when he had fallen in love, or when he had realized that Merlin was the only one he could trust. He's still not sure which one it was, maybe the love had come slowly, or maybe, and just the seed had been planted back then, or maybe it had come fact and crashing.

And now he was going to be gone too. Arthur sighs, his eyes drooping from a week of no sleep. Everyone leaves. They always leave. Maybe he still had some tears left.

The dark is disorienting. Is he sleeping? Is he even alive? He has to be, he has to make sure Arthur gets back home.

"Emrys," he hears someone say. No, not someone- Morgana. Her voice is unmistakable, ragged and sickly sweet at the same time. She had always been like that, even before, a dizzying array of opposites.

"Witch," he whispers. "Why have you brought me here?"

The smugness in her voice is apparent, "That's very hypocritical of you, isn't it? After all, you're magical too. More than me, even." She didn't answer his question. "All alone now, aren’t you? No one to save you." He shakes his head; how did he manage to get here? The last thing he was doing was shouting at Arthur to bring him along ("I always thought you were the bravest man I knew." “That’s not fair.") Arthur's face had been so disappointed, and it had broken Merlin's heart. But if the war was still going on, then no one would be coming for him. He will have to get out of this by himself.

"What. Do. You. Want." He grits out, he doesn't have the patience, nor the time for this, he has to help them. The knights are strong, but even the strongest of human kind wouln’t last long against an immortal army. He has to be there with them, to help them, to keep them alive. No matter how much his words hurt, Merlin will still save them, because that is what he does.

She laughs. " You."

"I don't have time for games, leave me be."- turning his head around trying to locate Morgana’s voice; the darkness, the nothingness, hasn’t changed.

"Oh, but why would I do that?" Her cold hands are taking hold of his chin, nails digging into his face. She's right in front of him. Her silky dress pooling onto his feet, the edges of her dirty hair grazing his arms. "I have you right where I want you, no one is going to come to save you. I only need one thing from you." She pauses, her fingers snap; there are fires surrounding them in a circle. He struggles against the bonds of rope he didn't realize were tied onto him, but it's of no use.

She’s clearer now, seen better days too. Bags under her crazed eyes, a ragged and torn black gown, a cloak is gracing her hunched back. Frankly, it looks like she hasn’t taken a bath in months. She doesn’t even resemble the Morgana he used to know, the compassionate and cunning one.

This is his creation; he is the reason she is like this. He never should have listened to the fucking dragon, he should have told her about his magic, maybe things would be different then.

"I won't do anything for you,” he hisses. “I would rather die.”

“Oh, you will.” She says it like it’s a fact as if it’s inevitable that he will die soon, and a tremor goes from his head to his toes in a matter of a second. He’s supposed to be immortal, supposed to live for a long, long time. He’s not scared of dying, he supposes. He’s scared of what will happen afterwards. “And it will hurt, I can tell you that, it will hurt so much.” She inches even closer, impossibly so. “But that won’t be the worst part, no. The worst part will be that no one will care . Arthur won’t care. No matter what you have done for him, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”

He’s silent as her words sink in. Sow themselves into his brain, into his heart, tries to convince himself it’s not true.

“Arthur won’t rescue you. You need his help, but he doesn’t have your back. He’s not even looking for you. If you’re drowning, if you’re about to crack, will he even care?” Something on his face makes her look smug like she’s already won. “Face it, Merlin.” That’s the first time she’s called him Merlin and not Emrys since she found out. “You don’t matter to him. He thinks you’re disposable, But I know better.”

Merlin looks up at her. "You're sick," he spits, although it sounds small, unsure. "He would look for me. I know he would." The statement is more for himself than her.

She gives a small, cruel smile as if to convey to him how pathetic he is. “All I need you to do,” she continues, “is to tell me where you are once this ends.”

He's about to ask her what she means, when the fires go out and it all turns dark again.

He stops in the forest, to rest, though he's not sure if Merlin will even survive by the end of it. He lays him down against a rock and lights a fire. He has to make something to feed them, or they'll die of starvation before Morgana's knights get to them. He surveys the clearing they're in, and he's about to walk towards what he is almost sure is an edible plant (emphasis on the almost, kings don't always learn about herbs), when he hears Merlin whispers. He snaps back, his eyes are open, a once tantalizing clear blue now murky and grey.

"Arthur" he murmurs. "Art- I-"

He holds up a hand "I'm here Merlin," he says. "I'm here but don't speak, you need to preserve your energy."

He doesn't listen. "I-I need to tell you something and," he gasps, trying to breathe, "and I need you to listen without interrupting."

Arthur wants to tell him whatever he needs to say probably isn't as important as his life, but the look on his face tells him that it might be.

Merlin shudders, clearly exhausted. "I ha-have magic," he rasps. Arthur's mind goes blank. It's a joke, it has to be. Merlin can't have betrayed him too. He takes a step toward him, to reach out maybe, but thinks better of it.

"Stop being silly," he commands, but it comes out shaky.

Merlin eyes seem wet. When he opens his mouth to speak, all that comes out is a bare whisper, "I ne-needed to tell you. In, in case, I-I, uh, die."

"You can't die." He clasps Merlin shoulder this time, leaning down. "But stop delusioning yourself Merlin. You don't have magic, I would know." It's not real, he would've been able to tell. This can't be true, it can't.

"And I use it for you," he continues, seeing his expression. "Only-only for you."

"Shut up," Arthur whispers. Merlin flinches back. "Shut up, shut up, shut up."

"I-," he starts, but he cuts him off.

"Do not speak to me."

Arthur looks at him, something rising in his throat. He thought it would be bile, but it's laughter. Of course, of course, the only person he trusts has magic.

He stands up and walks away, until he's sure Merlin won't be able to see him.

Merlin’s heart sinks as he stares at Arthur’s back, she was right. He told him about his magic, and now he was leaving him to die in a forest, never mind the reason he was dying was that he had taken a sword for Arthur. Never mind that he had spent a decade protecting him, trying to stop hundreds of people from killing someone he himself hadn’t particularly cared for at the beginning. Never mind the fact that he had sacrificed so much, just so he could be comfortable living in a castle built on the sins of his father and the corpses of magic users. Ten years, all down the drain. Merlin wants to laugh, of course, it comes done to this. To Arthur abandoning him because he told him something he didn’t want to hear. Fuck him, fuck the pendragons. Couldn’t let him die in peace.

He stews in it for a while, too tired to cry. Too sick of everything to even care anymore. He won’t tell her though; couldn’t let it all go to waste. She’ll find out anyway, he knows, she has her sources.

Yet, he has more important things to focus on, Arthur will either come back, or he won’t. But his wound stays. The giddiness is gone, replaced with something else. Something warm, like a fire in his stomach.

He presses down on his abdomen.  as he sighs sharply through his nose, it helps with the increasing pain, stabbing his bone and overtaking his senses.

His lungs struggle to breathe, it feels as if they’re filling with water as he drowns; his whole body burns as his back arches and writhes. It’s like there’s thousands of needles being pushed into him from everywhere, as if the needles had been pulled out from a fire before being inserted into him- red hot and painful, so painful. He wants to stand up, to run and jump into a lake, but his legs feel like jelly, he can’t move. It hurts so much. He hears distant echoes of screams; they’re probably coming from him.  And just like that, it starts to ebb. The needles being pulled out hurts more, but the small burns they leave behind are definitely better than it was before. He slumps down against a tree, numb.

He feels his eyes droop. His pain is still shooting through his body, but at least he has some time before he has to feel it again.

He wakes up again in some time, not sure when. It doesn't hurt as much as it did before. He’s just tired. He lays there for what feels like hours, but the sun hasn’t even set, so it was probably a few minutes.

To his immense surprise, he comes back. Arthur… comes back.

"Come back to finish the job, huh?" Merlin snarls, refusing to believe that maybe he came back to help him because he cared for him. It's too good to be true. Arthur is compassionate and he is kind, but not to magic users. "One stab wound wasn't enough for you?"

Arthur's already been saved from the imminent death of his which has been prophesied for a few centuries already, Merlin no longer has to worry, and he doesn't want to either. If this is his reward, to be called a coward, to be ignored and hut out, what everything had been leading up to, he might as well have died years ago. He used to wake up with only Arthur in mind, He loved him, still does. He’s not going to go out any other way.

He was the reason he lived, and he is the reason Merlin is going to die.

Arthur recoils in shock, his mouth is hanging open a little.

Good , Merlin thinks, he needs a wake-up call.

"What?" He asks.

Merlin hopes his expression can convey his feelings and how unamused he is because his throat is clogged up and he's too exhausted to say a word more. He may be a warlock, but it doesn’t change the fact that he is in unbearable pain.

Arthur looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "You- you thought I was going to kill you?"

There's no reply. Arthur comes forward, stops when he sees how scared the other man becomes. He sits down onto the cold, hard ground. "Merlin," he says softly, "I, I'm angry at you, I'm not going to lie, but I would never, never kill you. I- how could you even-" he trails off, he kicks some dirt glumly. "Just, we’ll talk about this when we're back home, okay? When you're better."

Arthur doesn't know how Merlin could think that. He would never- he didn’t even imagine doing anything other than demoting him, at most. He feels betrayed, and he feels let down. But this is Merlin. If he practiced magic, there must have been a good reason.

Fuck. Has he been that bad of a friend? Has he been so distant that Merlin thought Arthur was going to kill him? He knows he should be angrier, and just a few hours ago, he was. He was ready to yell and to scream and to rage, but then he thought of Morgana. About how he used to love her, and how she changed when he turned her away, He doesn’t want the same to happen to Merlin, doesn’t want him to change too. If Merlin dies because Arthur abandons him, he will never forgive himself.

So, as he snuffs out the fire and tries to cover up his tracks, because he knows Morgana will be looking for them, he doesn’t say anything. When he picks Merlin up and places him on the horse, he tries to be as gentle as he can. When he squeezes Merlin's hand in what he hopes is comforting, he just hopes Merlin doesn’t hate him completely.  

Merlin floats in and out of consciousness for what he thinks is a day, but he can’t be sure. When he first wakes up, he’s trotting along on a horse, Arthur behind him, and then he’s in front of a fire, sitting on the ground, then the horse again. Once, he wakes up to strangled screams, but he’s not sure what was going on. He’s too scared to ask. The fifth time he wakes up, however, it’s different. It’s not a coincidence, it’s on purpose, Arthur is shaking him awake. He makes out that they are next to the lake, where he has sent away so many corpses already.

It's calm and serene, obvious to all that is happening around it.

“Wha-” he starts to say blearily, he knows they haven’t reached Camelot yet, so what is going on?

Arthur silences him by placing a hand on his mouth. “We’ve got company,” he whispers. Merlin stiffens up, never a good thing. Not when you’re trekking through the woods, your companion and you both in bad conditions, both starving, one run through with a sword. Not when your companion is the ruler of kingdom which has war being waged against it.

“Arthur,” he says, his voice still sounding heavy and drowsy.

“What?” His mouth feels swollen, and he is incredibly tired, but he can tell he’s agitated, so he doesn't beat around. “Use the sword."

He looks surprised, the expression he hates. The one he uses whenever he realises that he underestimates everyone around him. "I think I know how to use a sword better than you do, Mer lin."

Prat.

"I mean, don't use your old sword, use Excalibur. It can kill anything. " Saying even this much feels like he just ran from Ealdor to Camelot without break, but he manages.

He opens his mouth to reply, but then his eyes widen. "Did you hear that?" His voice is low but urgent. Merlin blinks, he didn't hear anything other than the wind and- oh, he hears it now. There's distant screaming, coming from a woman from what it sounds like. It's barely noticeable, but the sounds of footsteps and something heavy being dragged on the forest floor towards them is much, much louder.

They exchange glances, only for a second. Merlin gestures towards the sword and Arthur nods, not questioning him for once.

Merlin tries to speak, he wants to help, but his throat is becoming clogged, and his vision is becoming blurry and- I am not going to survive. He thinks, before his eyes roll back into his head, and he passes out once more.

Arthur does not dare to say anything, or to do anything, other than stay frozen in his spot, sword in hand.

The noises are coming closer and closer. The screams have subsided now, but the steps have not. He knows he should highball out of there, but he has a feeling that whatever is coming their way cannot be outrun, and 50% of his lessons in swordplay focuses only on telling him to follow his gut.  

"Emrys," says a voice. He inhales sharply, he recognizes that voice; knows it better than he has any right too.

"Morgana," he breathes.

She pouts, looking disappointed. "Seems like our Emrys isn't awake. Shame, I wanted him to see you die." She says it casually, as if she tells her once-brother that she’s going to kill him every day.

He reminds himself - this is not his sister, not the woman he grew up with. If he doesn’t kill her, she will kill him. And she will take his kingdom.

But he never meant for them to get caught up in this, he had to control himself. He can’t rush to hug her or stab her. He can see a flicker of what she used to be, the brave, young woman. He needs her to hold onto that. If she doesn’t, he will have to do it. And he really, really doesn’t want to.

But as she lunges at him, the flicker ebbs out. She has slipped through his hands, and she has changed. She has been carried away by the waves of sorcery, and it has ruined her. He remembers her being his hero when they were young, when they used to sneak out of the castle to look at the stars. Her arguing with Uther over whether it was right to commit genocide, the irony of which has stuck with him. Her teaching him to use the sword, having already mastered it herself. Her forcing him to make friends with Gwen, who grew to become his ex-lover and best friend and surrogate queen. The memories keep on coming, and they don't stop. But she, like everyone else, changed. No matter what time, she is different now. It will never come back. He wants to go back, when they were innocent and naive, when everything was left for them to discover.

But he can’t.

So he fights back instead.

It's all he can do to make his hands steady as his blade sinks into her stomach, as he buries it deeper and deeper until it comes out on the other side. She looks surprised, then grim. She'll be alive for a few days, at most, a few minutes, at best.

But he can't bear to leave her suffering, alive but dying, tortured. So, he stabs her again, this time aiming for the heart, and again. And again. And again. When he is sure that she's dead, he stops, sliding onto his knees. He glares at the sword in contempt. He killed her; he killed his sister.

No .

He killed the woman who wanted to burn his kingdom to the ground. He had no other choice.

But what sort of person is he? He's killed both his knight and his former sister on the same day, with the same sword.

He grips it harder, then looks at the lake. He needs to get rid of it, that's what he needs to do. No one can find out what happened today, he can't let them. He raises it and throws it in. He had thought it would land on the banks, considering how heavy it is, but it doesn't. Instead, the sword flies out of his grip, and cuts through the air, towards the lake. He swears he can see a hand reaching out of the water to catch it, but it's probably a trick of the light.

He turns to her body laid on the ground, eyes open and unblinking, mouth looking as if gasping for breath, cloak sprawled around her like wings. She's dead.

Somehow, he knows if he had used the other sword, she would not be; he knows enough about magic to realise that the high priestess cannot be taken down by a normal weapon.

But Excalibur was not normal, was it? Just another thing to add to his list of questions.

It takes him thirty more minutes to dispose of her body in the lake, staring as it sinks deeper into the water. He doesn't look away, no. He deserves this. He has to remember, and he will.

He doesn't move for a long, long time. Only goes so when he realizes that, although she is dead, Merlin is not yet. Arthur intends to keep it that way. He turns his back on her. Every step drains him, but he does it.

He can't be left alone again.  

It takes them two more days to arrive in Camelot. All of it passes in awkward silence, with Merlin getting paler and paler with every passing second. Arthur doesn’t say anything out loud, but his mind is racing. He doesn’t think of them. He can’t. So he focuses on magic instead. He’s not sure if he trusts magic fully, even now, but maybe he should be more open-minded. Maybe he should give it a chance. Maybe it'll be different than it was with Morga- her.

When he arrives, it is completely different to what he had expected. There are mourners, of course. People in white, downcast expressions, closed windows, doors painted black. But there are also red banners hanging everywhere, citizens cheering as he rides past, ignoring Merlin behind him. Cries of "she is dead" and "the war is over". People are grieving, and there are those celebrating. He doesn't ask how they know of her death, he doesn't want to know. They tell him anyway. Apparently, the army stopped attacking, all of a sudden. They had cried, and shouted, and had turned back. It is unclear why, but Arthur knows he is the reason. Morgana dying at his hands is the reason.

Some help him get to Gaius', seeing how unamused he looks. They clear out the road, offer them water. Arthur is grateful for them, glad that at least some of his people acknowledged the dying man and had tried to help.

The physician is busy when he throws the door open, Merlin in tow. There are many, many people here. All with varying degrees of injuries. Arthur can’t bear to look at them. It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. So he ignores them, marches up to him.

“He’s- he’s been stabbed,” he chokes out.

Gaius’ eyes widen, and he rushes to follow Arthur. He lays Merlin out on one of the few empty beds, his body sprawls out on it. It’s sickening to look at as if he’s dead already.

He sets to work immediately, ordering Arthur to fetch herbs and vials and all sorts of things he doesn’t know the uses of. The people around them stare at him blankly, as if they know he’s the king, but they don’t fully recognise him.

He knows when he is not needed anymore, and backs away to watch. It's odd, and it feels so wrong. It's wrong to watch as Merlin is cut open and healed. Like he's invading his privacy. Merlin deserves better than to be put on a show in front of so many people.

He does try to help. Tries to tell as many people as he can to move to the castle, where he is sure more doctors would be willing to help, but some are in too bad of a condition to be moved as they are tended to by nurses. So he elects to focus on his friend instead.

Gaius' hands have always been steady, for as long had Arthur had known him. He cuts open bodies without worry, without even flinching. Which is not the case today, he notices. No, his hands are shaking. Not much as to be obvious, but he's known the man for far too long to not be able to tell when he's scared.

He thinks Merlin is going to die .

Arthur recoils violently. He doesn't know where the thought came from, because it's not true. It can’t be.

Merlin is going to survive. He tells himself.

Merlin. Is. Going. To. Survive.

Merlinisgoingtosurvive

MerlinisgoingtosurviveMerlinisgoingtosurvuveMerlinisgoingtosurvive

He repeats under his breath, rocking himself back and forth on his heels until he almost believes it. He has to.

He's not sure where the time has passed, because Gaius is in front of him all of a sudden but Arthur remembers him standing over the table just seconds ago.

Gaius shakes his head and it takes a few minutes for it to register in his mind. Arthur can't be looking at him, and his heartbreaking face. Just like him, Gaius' only support was Merlin. Was. Not is, was. Merlin is barely dead, and Arthur is already starting to think of him as a memory.

The physician knows what it feels like, but Arthur doesn't care.

"You should've done better," he hisses. He doesn't regret it. Doesn’t regret causing the shock he’s caused Gaius. But it's his fault too. He's the one Merlin took a sword for. But he needs to blame someone else. Because he doesn't want to think of the implications of Merlin dying at his hands. Gaius looks at him as if he is about to break, so Arthur walks away. From him, towards the corpse. He can't bear to face another person he's hurt.

It can't be true. There's got to be something he can do, something. He can't die, he can’t fucking die. Not when there's not much left to say. Not when they've just won. It's supposed to be a thing to celebrate, a war ending, he can't mourn. He can't give a speech to his kingdom which wasn't written by his best friend. Can't lose him. He doesn't think he'll be able to live without him.

He doesn't want to. He won't.

Merlin looks too much at peace, content in a way Arthur hasn't seen him in a long time. His long lashes casting shadows onto his freckled skin, his lips are twisted into a scowl, but he is at peace. He still looks the same, though. Beautiful and striking. Arthur's rock.

And dead.

Arthur’s hands move at their own accord, to stroke the side of his face. A sob escapes him before he can stop it, pushing through his throat. His people need assurance, and him crying like a bloody fool won't help. But that's the last thing on his mind. All he knows is Merlin is dead.

He isn’t able to stop staring, can't help wondering what he will do now. Whether the body will be burned or buried. He will be given a hero's funeral, it's no less than he deserves. He will be clothed in Camelot’s colours, or maybe his Ealdor's. Hunith would know better.

Oh lord, Hunith. She will have to find out through a letter. No. Arthur will have to go to tell her. He can't let her go through it alone.

He's about to turn away, to tell someone to help him move the body when his lips move.

Merlin's mouth opens, just a little bit, but enough to tell that he's alive.

Arthur feels a shock go through him. It was just an illusion.

Right?

"Merlin?" he asks. It can't be true, no matter how much he wants it to be. It was probably a trick of the light, but that can't be right. Because Merlin's eyes are opening and he's staring at him and some colour is returning to his cheeks and oh-

This the man he loves. And he waking up.

"Ar- Arth," he begins but Arthur shushes him. He’s alive, he’s speaking. He doesn’t know how, but it’s real. It’s actually real.

"I'm here," he assures him "I'm here." He shocks even himself as he leans down to kiss him. He's even more surprised when Merlin kisses him back. It only lasts a second before he pulls back, but he just kissed Merlin. It was rough, it wasn't perfect. But he's breathing. They're both here. He can't ask for more.

"Wha- what was," he exhales through his nose, as if speaking taxes him, "that for?"

"I wanted to," he says, shrugging, still not over the euphoria. He just lost him, he’s never going to again. The least he can do is not hide from the truth. "And, I, I also kind of love you. Like, I’m in love with you."

His eyes widen a fraction, but Arthur can tell he’s too tired to question it further.

He wants to say more, he has so many questions as to how he's still breathing, when he started practicing magic, why, but he doesn’t. He has time, they have all the time in the world.

He turns his back, yelling for Gaius. The physician shows up immediately, face lighting up when he takes in the sight of his son very much not-dead.

"We'll figure it out," he says, though he's not sure he heard him over the noise. "We'll figure it out." He grins. Yeah, they'll figure it out.

He swears, Merlin is beaming right back at him.

[up-in-my-bunghole]

Dear writers of BBC’s Merlin:

It would be such a pleasure if you would just grow the fuck up and deal with the romantic and sexual tension you’ve created between Merlin and Arthur and just let them be gay for each other, you cowards.

Here’s some ideas to spice up the show with some Merthur content:

Merlin loses control of his magic after losing a great deal (probably a loved one) and he makes an explosion of destructive magic around him in his distress and he can’t calm it back down again. People try to approach him but they only end up flung aside, and they have no idea how to handle him. Until Arthur comes in, and he starts to walk toward Merlin successfully. Everyone sits silent as they watch, Arthur only focused on his friend as he comes face to face with his golden eyes and blue sparks of heat (I imagine an electric blowout). Slowly, Arthur talks to him in a way that only he can do, actually being sincere and gentle with his words (although a few jabs slip, it doesn’t hurt Merlin’s feelings or make it worse, bc that’s just who Arthur is). He reaches out and takes his hand, feeling the prickle of sparks in his palm, but Merlin starts to settle with his presence, the glow in his eyes flickering ever so slightly. Eventually, Arthur comes in to hug him and bring him down all the way, and Merlin is back to normal.   

                                                                       Another magic one would be when Arthur is surrounded and has no hope for survival against his enemies, but Merlin stands in front of him just as they unleash their forces and deflects them all with a blast wave of pure power. He picks them off one by one, ruthlessly to save his king. After no one else is left standing or breathing in front of Merlin, he turns around to see Arthur completely blown away with a dismal “wow” and he gets up to kiss him as his reward.

A scene where Merlin and Arthur stand together at the final battle, gazing into the eye of the storm and knowing the chance that they will live to tell the tale is near impossible. With their last moments of solemnity, they link their hands, lean their foreheads together, and say their last goodbyes before they charge out into war.

For the past few days, Merlin has been getting these mystical pains (like a headache or some magical shit like that), and it’s been hindering him from completing his duties. Arthur notices it and bashes him for it, calling him a wimp and a girl. Merlin has a snarky remark to throw back in the beginning, but soon he doesn’t have the energy to respond. Over the days, he becomes more and more reclusive, and although Arthur notices, he doesn’t let up from his chores. Until one day, when he’s yelling at Merlin about the state of his bed chambers, Merlin yells out in delirious pain and then collapses with it, crying out in agony before passing out. Gaius is called to see him and he discovers that he has an inflammation of his meninges (the jello around the brain) ((or some other illness like that)) and Arthur finally realizes all the harm he’s done and how far he pushes Merlin. Once he recovers, Arthur apologizes and makes up for his shit behavior.

After all of Merlin’s rough battles and adventures and losses, Arthur is once again being a stick up his ass and walloping him about petty shit when Merlin has had enough. He snaps. Instead of taking all of Arthur’s insulting nagging, he fights back this time. Merlin is thrashing out at him, yelling and clawing with a fury in his eyes that almost flashes gold as he spills with rage. He lets go of all of it, all of the strife and pain and anger and loss. Hot, burning tears scald his cheeks, and he burns with them. Once it’s all out, once his tears can no longer pour and his voice has gone raw, he stuffs it back up, turns away from Arthur, and leaves him in his bedchamber with a stiff goodbye. All night, Arthur lays awake with Merlin’s voice in his head, haunted by his profound suffering that he was barely aware of. The next day, when Merlin silently serves his breakfast and starts to straighten up his linens, he whispers and ‘I’m sorry’ just behind him. Merlin only murmurs that it’s fine and an apology of his own for lashing out, but Arthur doesn’t take it. He turns Merlin around to face him, and he sees all the pain from yesterday still stowed away in his eyes. The only thing he can think to do is pull him to his chest and give him a hug with another ‘I’m sorry’ said next to Merlin’s ear. He can’t hold it all in anymore, and Merlin grips back with a choked, relieved sigh. Arthur says to never speak of this again. Merlin nods, but he can’t help but smile. Arthur smiles. too.

Or, Arthur comes storming into his chambers with his head about to explode with rage after a fight with his father, and a devastating loss. Merlin is in there polishing his armor or something when he sees stuff flying across the room and hears Arthur just about roaring in fury. When Merlin asks him what in the hell he’s on about, he gets a full face of a furious, unhinged Arthur. He’s throwing things, he’s tugging his hair, and he’s completely losing control.With every time that Merlin tries to talk some sense into him, he only burns up more until Merlin finally yells at him to please tell him what’s going on, and Arthur starts to yell again, but he can’t help it anymore. He starts to cry from everything his father has done, and everything he’s seen happen by his order and stood by. The things he’d done by his fathers side, even if it hurt his soul, and of course, his mother. He couldn’t take any more of it. Arthur can’t hide the tears welling in his eyes, Merlin stunned into worried silence at his outburst. After he lets Arthur have a moment, Merlin walks up to him and wraps his arms around his king, and just hugs him, letting Arthur let it all out. Once he’s settled enough and Merlin lets him go, Arthur whispers a thank you, to which he replies ‘of course, Sire’.

Just imagine that Merlin is secretly sparring with the other knights of the round table (probably Gwaine and Lancelot) to kick Arthur in the ass later. His time off is spent in the fields with a sword in hand, and Merlin has gotten pretty good. As Arthur is prowling the castle for his servant, he finds himself in the training yard to see Merlin with Gwaine, sparring. At first Arthur laughs, as he’s expecting Merlin’s rear end pummeled to the ground in the next few seconds. But Merlin has gotten quick, and although his clumsy demeanor is ever present, he’s actually very smooth. Arthur freezes right then and there as Merlin sweeps Gwaine off his feet and presses the sword to his chest, suddenly feeling flushed. When Merlin finds out that Arthur had been watching the whole time (with an awkward, witty little wave) Arthur can’t find the words, only nodding to him and turning tail. Merlin’s face soon turns red after, and Gwaine is a little shit about it and fucks around with Merlin and teases him endlessly.

Or, another fun one. Merlin got some shit or something spilled on him and he rushes into his room to get changed. Unbeknownst to Arthur, who speeds past Gaius and into Merlin’s room to behold.... Merlin, in nothing but his undergarments. And holy shit, Arthur was not prepared to see that. Merlin never takes off his tunic, much less his trousers. Never. Arthur hadn’t even seen his bare skin past his forearms. So to see his chest in plain sight, and his stomach and hips and shoulders and thighs is just... *poof*. Arthur has lost it. Merlin turns around and notices him there and yanks his sheet to his chest with a confused hello, trying to hide his red cheeks. Arthur is quick with a bullshit explanation and hightails it the fuck out, and both of them can’t stop blushing.  Before a tournament, when Merlin is preparing Arthur in the tent after they had a little fight that Arthur suspects Merlin is still a little mad about (well, not really a fight, just an altercation that has Merlin debating about sharing his feelings), Arthur is prodding and poking at him and all but begging him to banter with him. But, Merlin stays mostly silent while securing his armor. No matter how many insults he throws at Merlin, his mouth stays shut. As a last attempt to wring out some of Merlin’s humor or at least a smile, Arthur asks, “a kiss for good luck?”.  Merlin is actually stunned by his question at first, but he thinks about it for a moment. And after some awkward consideration and then a last thought of ‘fuck it’, Merlin tugs his chains and smacks his lips against Arthur’s, hot and wet and sudden and tight for the most shocking 6 seconds of Arthur’s life and then Merlin shoves him out of the tent and into the sparring match and Arthur is just O__o (I got this from a cool fanart comic, I can’t find it anymore tho, so the idea isn’t mine)

After Arthur finds out about Merlin’s magic and has returned from the lake (about a year later), he’s still a little weary of his sorcery, but he’s still curious. And once Merlin has had enough of his tip toeing, he finally sits him down in his chambers and shows him how amazing magic can really be. With a wave of his hand and some old, gentle words, Merlin conjures a ball of soft blue light that forms a dragon swirling around above Merlin’s fingers. Unlike the other times Arthur has seen dragons depicted, this one is graceful, and it seems docile as it floats over him. He’s enchanted with it, leaning in to look at it more closely. That’s when Merlin asked if he wanted to try something. He nodded, and Arthur’s hands were taken into Merlin’s with an incantation, and then he held a luminescent dragon in his hand as well. It dances around his head as he begins to smile.Ever since that faithful day Arthur keeps asking for Merlin to show him more magic, and every time he asks, Merlin smiles, too.

Can you tell I’m a fan of Merthur?

After Uther is dead, Arthur is shut off from the rest of the world, and not even the love of Camelot could bring him back. Merlin doesn’t say anything about it, silently supporting him with little acts, but not broaching him about it. One night, Merlin comes into Arthur’s bedchambers to see it completely tarnished. Clothes and trinkets thrown about askew, the sheets and curtains torn and discarded on the floor, and Arthur sitting on the floor with his arms resting on his knees, one of the most painful looks Merlin has ever seen trapped behind his eyes. Still, Merlin says nothing as he shuffles over to where Arthur is haphazardly collapsed on the floor, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. And he doesn’t say a word as he offers his hand, palm up, between them to where Arthur can see. Merlin doesn’t need to ask, and Arthur doesn’t need to answer as he tangles their fingers together. They speak without using their voices there, neither of them pushing, but both feeling a pull. Arthur’s tears start to fall, with Merlin squeezing his hand through them. Slowly, Merlin scoots closer until Arthur’s head is resting on his. They spend the entire night like that, the world outside a blur. No one bothers them, and no one comes to wake up the King, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. 

Merlin is pushed into the lake. During an ambush from Morgana and her forces, Merlin is knocked into the freezing water, cracking the ice and slipping under. It’s Lancelot that sees his neckerchief on the water surface and a pale body sinking through, racing against the splitting ice to reach him. He almost doesn’t grab him in time, but by partly submerging himself, he’s able to grab a hold on one of Merlin’s stiff arms and haul him over the surface. After hearing the lake’s surface break, Arthur knows something bad had happened, but he couldn’t actually go over and investigate until Morgana’s soldiers are on the ground in front of him. Once he does, he sees the red fabric damp and frosted on the water, and his heart frosts over with it. Merlin’s lips are blue like his fingertips, all the life drained from his skin. He’s not breathing. Now Arthur’s hands are shaking as he feels over Merlin’s cold skin for a pulse. He can’t feel one, but he won’t give up. He can’t. So he tries to give Merlin some of his warmth, rubbing over his arms and sides and rolling him over. He rips off his cloak and wraps him in it, but the fabric is soaked through in seconds. He pleads to the gods, begs them not to take him, not him, please. His tears burn hot in anger and desperation as he finally shakes his limp body and yells at him, orders him to live. Just then, Merlin’s fingers twitch, and not soon after he’s coughing up lake water onto himself, body now fully wracked with shaking as a burst of his magic forces his heart to beat, and for him to take in a breath. 

[grandcollections]

by myashke

Summary:

When Arthur pushes Merlin away to protect him, what lengths will Merlin go to to remain in his life?

Comments:

I read this seven years ago. And although I couldn’t remember much about the fic, seeing the name struck a chord in me— so cliche, but it felt like an electric shock. Instant recognition. I remembered it was one of my favorite fics ever. I remembered images of freezing cold and bonfires, and lots of delicious hurt/comfort, probably the best you’ve ever read, my mind told me. And I remembered the tale centering around Merlin, on how much everyone loves him— I saw more images, snippets of the knights and Arthur trying to protect him— one of my favorite parts of the show and something I love to see in fics. 

Arthur laced his gloved fingers through Merlin’s bare ones and lifted them up to his lips. “They’re gone,” he said, lowering their hands to rest on his thigh again, hoping Merlin’s ice cold fingers would warm beneath his own.

Merlin took a deep, shuddering breath, his chest pressing tightly against Arthur’s back. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he whispered, squeezing Arthur’s hand.

“Yes.” Arthur looked down at their joined hands, wondering if it would always be like this, Merlin touching him, their attraction sparking and being smothered over and over under the weight of duty for as long as Merlin stood at his side.

I am so, so glad I decided to reread this now. I needed it. I took my time with it, watching the page count anxiously, not wanting it to ever end. 

To be able to read something like this is a gift. Truly. This fic is not only one of the best merthur fics I’ve read, but one of the best pieces of writing. 

TLDR: Merlin risks his neck to save Arthur without thinking, of course, nearly freezing to death afterwards. Along with the knights (who play a very active role), they revive him and nurse him back to health slowly. Merlin and Arthur’s feelings come to the surface, along with plenty of angst and big sacrificial energy from both boys. Featuring: hurt/comfort, magic reveal, angst (so much angst) the best characterization of every character, Ealdor shenanigans, wonderful smut and delicious sexual tension, the whole gang of knights and a smattering of mergwaine. And my goddamn favorite thing, the best way I’ve ever seen it: Arthur recognizing everything Merlin has done and truly, truly valuing him.

the rest of my long-ass review below the cut lol!

Everything I said in my first review holds true. It’s beautiful and heart-wrenching. It’s pure, sickening hurt/comfort— if that’s your jam (and it sure is mine), oh boy you’ll be in heaven. It’s full of tenderness— the way Arthur, Gwaine, and Lancelot care for Merlin, the depth of Merlin’s feelings for Arthur, the supremely physical nature of this fic— the first half is a mess of tender touches and skin-to-skin, bodies trying save Merlin’s, described in excruciating detail. 

"It’s just me,” Arthur whispered, brushing his hair back from his forehead, his hand slowly rubbing down Merlin’s neck and back, fingers ghosting along his spine, settling finally on his hip. 

Arthur held him tightly in place. He brushed slowly, gently back through Merlin’s hair, whispering in his ear, soothing him. “Shh, it’s alright, Merlin. I’m right here. You’re safe. Sleep now... you’ll feel better in the morning... I promise I’ll be right here...” 

This is the stuff of hurt/comfort *dreams*. It’s achingly tender and beautiful and full of angst as Merlin stays near death, ice cold, goes through fever, and says and does things as his mind isn’t fully presence in his fever-addled state.

Arthur whispered prayers to God Almighty, to the Gods of the Old Religion, to Merlin himself. Be alive. Be alive. 

He’d give up his right to the throne for a blood curdling cry from Merlin right now.

Arthur spends so much of this part of the fic panicking over Merlin, desperate for him to be alright. (One of my favorite merthur tropes)

“Trust me, he’ll thank you for it tomorrow.”

“Gods allow he has breath to thank me with tomorrow,” Arthur whispered, shaking his head as his own words stabbed into his chest. He lowered his cheek to Merlin’s again, whispering,” Gods allow he has breath to rant and rave, if he wants.” 

I really love the characterization of everyone in this fic, but I want to focus on Arthur. The entire time I was reading I believed it was him, I believed I was reading about Uther’s-son-the-prince-of-Camelot, First Knight, all of it. I felt his burdens and his pain, the weight of the heavy choices (and one specific heavy choice, the main plot of this fic I suppose) he made. 

Arthur pressed Merlin harder against the tree and he opened his eyes, gasping.

“I’m choosing Camelot over you, Merlin. An entire kingdom’s welfare. My bloodline’s future. My gods-damned destiny. And yours, if you stand by me.”

This sort of realism may not be every shipper’s cup of tea, but god is it mine. Because it doesn’t lessen Arthur’s love, need, longing for Merlin. It just incorporates the rest of Arthur into that, alongside it. And produces so much goddamn pain.

Arthur is not always gentle, he is possessive and jealous, but always quick to bury those feelings— unless he can lash out with his authority at his back. And if he does that, he apologizes.. sometimes. If he regains control quickly enough. If it’s one of the knights. (Not always if it’s Merlin). He misunderstands things often and is quick to believe the worst. But he never fails where it’s important— he tries, and that’s key. But he can be intuitive, too— I love how the magic reveal is handled, how it marinates in his mind for a while. How he knows before the reader even knows he knows, and long before anyone else does. It’s a credit done to Arthur we don’t see often— sometimes he reacts badly, or is shocked above all else.

“I thought you’d want rid of me,” Merlin said... “Someone who lied about who I really am.”

“Who? Oh, you mean the Merlin that is actually brave, intelligent, and loyal to the death?” he heard, low and close to his ear. “I’ve known him for a while, too.”

This is JUST.... everything I’ve ever wanted. The way Arthur values Merlin and sees everything he’s done post-magic reveal is one of the primary reasons I love this fic so much, as I’ve said, and I’ll talk about it more later. But another result of the magic reveal is Arthur becoming so protective of Merlin once he does realize. It’s the backbone of this fic.

Merlin grinned as everyone laughed, the light in his eyes a gift Arthur wouldn’t soon forget. 

He would have to extinguish it, he knew, but he wouldn’t ever forget what Merlin had looked like in that moment, so entirely at peace with himself and everyone around him....

Pressing his leg harder against Merlin’s, Arthur clenched his jaw on the scream of frustration that welled in his chest. 

^ this is Arthur’s reaction as he watches Merlin practice magic, glowing and happy and powerful and whole, because he is afraid that magic is the reason Merlin will die. 

Had Merlin watched the executions and thought of himself tied to that post? Had he thought he would be able to escape before the fires were lit beneath him?

The very image of Merlin bound there made Arthur’s stomach curl into a tight knot.

The way Arthur would doom himself to be the villain, to deny himself happiness and even SAFETY— because now he knows he’s only lived this long because of Merlin— to protect Merlin, to prolong his life. 

Merlin backed away as Arthur stepped forward again, reaching out to him. He didn’t know how to do this, to push Merlin away when his body felt half-empty with the desire to touch him.

The way he uses his authority as prince and what he is to Merlin to ensure it. (The way Merlin refuses to comply.) I love it so much.

Arthur closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reigning in his anger. “You’re right. I would defy my father and my king to protect you... but it wouldn’t be enough.... it makes me ill to think of how close you’ve come to the pyre.”

“I don’t care. I belong in Camelot, even if I end up a pile of ash.” 

excuse me while I scream

“I have my company of knights to protect me.”

“They follow you, they don’t protect you,” Merlin whispered, letting go of Arthur’s arms and worrying the edge of his tunic, then looking into Arthur’s eyes, pleading. “Please don’t ask this of me.” 

He’d expected a fight, defiance, but not this, not what amounted to begging.

DELICIOUS. ANGST. Arthur’s protectiveness coupled with Merlin’s stubbornness means we get a whole lot of angst and longing. They have to stay away from each other, but they can’t. 

“I should never have let you,” Arthur whispered, shaking his head, “You’re enough of a distraction as it is.” 

As they stared at one another, Merlin felt as if something irrevocable was slipping between them. “Arthur, I--”

“Enough,” he breathed, the word a plea more than a command. “We cannot-- I’m not free to--” Arthur sighed, brushing his thumb across Merlin’s lops, shaking his head. “This cannot happen again. Do you understand?” 

... “Yes, sire.” Merlin pushed at Arthur’s arm, unwilling to wait for Arthur to let go, unable to lie there, so close, touching, when Arthur was already through with him.

.. Like a bucket of cold water, Arthur’s words had shocked him back into reality, holding up in front of him what he’d tried so hard to forget. 

He was a servant, and he would obey.  

excuse me?? do you see why you have to go read this fic right NOW, do you SEE?!!

“I knew. I knew and it still feels like I’m splitting open,” Merlin whispered.

ugh.

If anyone else had put that look on Merlin’s face, Arthur would have laid them out flat.  

ughHH

“Your life is worth more than this,” Arthur said, smoothing the pad of his thumb across Merlin’s kiss-reddened lips...

Arthur clenched his fists and stared after him, desperate to follow. They couldn’t keep tearing each other to shreds like this. Something had to give.

God this fic is full of GOD-TIER PAIN. It’s genuinely baffling. amazing. groundbreaking, never been done before!!!!

And now I must, I must, discuss the clowning glory of this fic. The thing I wanted most from the show, that pained me the most when I was denied, that frustrated me most about the ending. Arthur seeing Merlin as the hero he is, the powerful sorcerer who did so much for Arthur, Arthur’s family, Arthur’s kingdom. But more than that. Arthur seeing and valuing Merlin, the man. Gaius, Hunith, Gwaine, Lancelot, the knights— they don’t value Merlin because of his magic, or because what he has done or can do for them. It isn’t gratitude they feel. It’s love. And it’s the same for Arthur, here. And I can’t tell you how dear that is to me. How lovely it is to read. 

And despite knowing him so well, Merlin had believed in his ability to become a better man from the beginning. Arthur wasn’t blind; he could see that Merlin had reshaped his attitudes over the years, had taught him to think for himself instead of blindly following his father’s example. He learned from Merlin to see beyond pride and the nobility, to be a servant to the people instead of ruling them as his father did. 

From the very first moment they’d met, Merlin had encouraged him in gentlest, surest way to seek out the right thing and do it, say it, help it to happen if he could.

again:

Merlin listened even when Arthur couldn’t say a word. Especially then, in fact.

and again:

“I’ve never know someone like him. He’s so... selfless. How many times has he saved us without our knowing? He never asks for reward or recognition. He’s a servant when he could-- he could do anything. Does he not want anything for himself?”

Gwaine chuckled softly. “He wants one thing with all of his being, but you and I both know he would never presume to ask for it.”  

and again:

Being alone with him was Arthur’s escape, his sanctuary, no matter where they were.

and again: 

“This isn’t negotiable,” he whispered, stepping closer, wanting to comfort Merlin but knowing it would neither be welcome nor fair, given what he was ordering. “You shouldn’t be a servant, Merlin. You shouldn’t have to give up your gift and you shouldn’t waste it on a kingdom that would murder you for it.”

There, he’d said it. Camelot wasn’t worthy of Merlin.

I can’t even react to that line— it’s too wonderful. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted from Arthur. and oh, Merlin returns the favor tenfold. Arthur is Merlin’s existence. 

“Please, Arthur,” he begged, his voice barely above a whisper. “Please don’t do this.”

Hands sliding up to either side of Merlin’s neck, Arthur leaned closer, not quite daring to press their foreheads together. “I won’t watch you die.”

“Then close your eyes, but let me... stay with you.”

One of the most GORGEOUS, pain filled lines I’ve ever read!!! The way Merlin swallows his pain over and over again and does what’s best for Arthur is so hard to read but so Merlin. But I do love how this fic balances all that classic devotion and sacrificial energy with a few instances of Merlin taking a stand, standing up for himself and being selfish, without sacrificing the integrity of the character. 

Now, let’s talk about mergwaine. Because it’s definitely a side-ship in this fic and I have NO problem with it!!! It’s so well done, and only adds another layer of pain. First of all, Gwaine is just perfect in this fic— shameless, cheeky, all-about-Merlin. A good friend to both Merlin and Arthur— and I loved every time he called Arthur out on Merlin’s behalf, while also saying nothing but good and reassuring things about Arthur to Merlin— but he shines in his scenes with Merlin. His presence allows Merlin to show his pain, something he desperately needs as he can’t always do it with Arthur. I love this depiction of them; a close friendship, one Merlin feels completely comfortable in and full of trust and safety, one that could be something else, but. But. As Gwaine himself puts it, he’s not Arthur. That doesn’t take away from the extreme tenderness he displays with Merlin. It’s truly touching. 

Emotions stripped too raw to accept either without the tears starting again, Merlin closed his eyes and pleaded softly. “Don’t let go of me.” 

“Never,” Gwaine swore. He laid his forehead against Merlin’s inhaling deeply before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Sleep, my friend.” 

and:

“Arthur is hurting too, and he is alone.”

“And I have you,” Merlin whispered, tears threatening to spill from his over-full eyes. “I always have you and he always had me.” 

and:

Gwaine kissed his shoulder and hair, arms tightening around his chest. “You deserve him, Merlin. Don’t ever believe that you don’t,” he whispered, drawing out the tears that Merlin had been desperately holding back.

and, for a bit of levity:

“But we’re all better off with me clothed,” Merlin said 

Gwaine shook his head disbelievingly. “You really have no idea how handsome you are, do you?... Ah, well, it’s probably for the best. You’d be impossible to live with if you did know.” 

There’s so many more wonderful parts of this fic. Arthur and Hunith’s lovely, heartbreaking scene (I was thoroughly crying throughout). Arthur’s loneliness upon return to Camelot. The incredible explicit scenes between Merlin and Arthur. But just do yourself a favor and read it. We’re so lucky to have it. 

[acearchivist359]

Sword in the Stone (But with Magic and Merthur)

I had a conversation with @smolfighttol​ (literally months ago but uk how writing is) as to what would have happened if Merlin revealed his magic to Arthur during Sword in the Stone, then of course I had to write it.

I also posted it on ao3 if people prefer that

     Arthur awoke surrounded by trees and utterly confused. Looking down at himself, he found he no longer wore his armour but tattered and ill-fitting clothes. He thought back, his memories jumbled, and found he couldn’t remember how he had arrived in this position. He remembered Morgana attacking Camelot and stood in a panic. He grabbed his sword from where it was stuck in the ground next to him. His fighters instincts were reeling as he looked around, recognizing no one, until his eyes finally settled on Merlin’s sleeping form. He rushed over and kicked Merlin awake anxiously.

     Merlin awoke to the feeling of someone kicking him. “You’d better have a damn good explanation for this, Merlin.” Arthur said lowly, attempting to be discreet. Merlin stared at him blankly, assuming the spell shouldn’t have worn off yet. Arthur began kicking him again, “Fine. Then I'll just carry on kicking you.”

     “Arthur,” Merlin said scrambling to his feet. He inspected Arthur’s face and found no traces of the simpleton that had accompanied him the last few days. He breathed a sigh of relief, “You're back!”  

     “What do you mean “I’m back”?” Arthur looked at Merlin incredulously, but he found as usual that he was vaguely concerned as he teased Merlin, “You’re talking gibberish again.”

     “Listen to me, please,” Merlin pleaded, exasperated. Arthur looked at him with concern as he continued, but Merlin was too caught up in his explanation to notice.  “Camelot is lost. You were injured in an attack, you passed out. I had to get you out of there.”

     “Where are we now?” Arthur asked, calmly taking in his surroundings more.

     “We’re heading north,” Merlin explained, “To a safe haven, to Ealdor. Hopefully the knights will meet us there.” Merlin's voice softened a touch at the mention of his former home and Arthur almost smiled before realizing he had no idea of the situation they were in.

     “Who are these people?” He asked, finally.

     “They’re, er… smugglers,” Merlin said, sheepishly.

     “Smugglers?!” Arthur exclaimed. Merlin shushed him quickly, looking around anxiously. “Alright, let's assume for one moment, you actually know what you’re doing,” Arthur said, quieter this time. “It doesn't explain why I look like the village idiot.”

     “It’s the perfect disguise,” Merlin smiled, proudly, “No one would ever suspect you of being, you know… who you are.” He shrugged, innocently. 

     Arthur looked down at his clothes again, “I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m not going around looking like this.”

      “You have to,” Merlin insisted, “You've got to stay in character.”

      “You!” Someone called. Arthur stiffened again, his posture having relaxed as he spoke to Merlin. Merlin seemed to remain impassive as the smuggler spoke to him. “We leave as soon as the horses are watered.” The smuggler looked at Arthur, who was standing at Merlin’s side, “Explain it to the simpleton, would you?” The smuggler turned away and Arthur looked at Merlin, who smiled sheepishly before picking up Arthur’s sword. They started toward the smuggler's wagon and Arthur grabbed his sword back, defensively. There was no way he was going to unarmed and surrounded by smugglers. “Simpleton,” the smuggler, Tristan, called.

     “He’s talking to you,” Merlin whispered, knowing Arthur was about to put up a fight.

     “I don’t answer to that name.” Arthur argued, sharply.  How disrespectful, he thought.

     “In character,” Merlin reminded him. Arthur huffed. “Remember?”

     The smuggler approached them looking at Arthur’s sword. “Impressive piece.”

     Arthur glanced at Merlin, who looked at him pointedly. “Thank you, sir,” Arthur said putting on a stupid voice. 

     “May I?” Tristan asked. Arthur handed over his sword, reluctantly. He hoped Merlin knew what he was doing with these smugglers. “Magnificent. The only place you find workmanship of this quality is in the royal forge of Camelot,” Tristan levelled the blade at Arthur’s throat. “Tell me, how did you come by it?”

     “I won it in a card game.” Merlin interjected, “Gave it to him as a present. He won't be parted from it,” Arthur was almost impressed at how smoothly Merlin lied to the smugglers . “Makes him feel safe.” 

     “I hope for your sake that’s true,” Tristan handed Arthur his sword back. Arthur took it dumbly, grumbling inwardly, pretending he didn’t know how to hold a sword. “I’d hate to think I was riding with a knight of Camelot.”

     Arthur hugged his sword to his chest and put on a stupid voice again, “Aye.”

     The blond woman at Tristan’s side giggled, “Knight of Camelot?” She scoffed, “Look at him.” Arthur was fuming on the inside, he was the King, their King! 

     “You’re right,” Tristan remarked, “The knights may be stupid, but they’re not that stupid.” Arthur wanted to protest but reminded himself of what would most likely happen to him and Merlin if they knew who he was, so he put on a stupid grin. Merlin ruffled Arthur’s hair, laughing along with Tristan and Isolde. He knew how hard it must be for Arthur to hear how people spoke of him and the knights.

     “Pack your things, simpleton!” Merlin exclaimed loudly as they walked away. 

     “Call me that again and I’ll run you through.” Arthur muttered quietly to Merlin, fake smile plastered to his face. They both knew how empty the threat was, but neither commented on it.

     “Don’t worry, sire,” Merlin said sympathetically. He knew Arthur well enough to know Arthur would be upset by what the smugglers said. “I’m sure you won’t have to keep it up for too much longer.”

     “How long?!” Arthur exclaimed, exasperated. As he said that a smuggler walking by them collapsed, an arrow lodged in his back. Arthur grabbed Merlin’s shirt, instinctively, pulling him away from where the smuggler had stood. Another arrow landed in the tree next to Arthur’s head and he ducked, moving Merlin with him. Merlin didn’t have time to dwell on how he himself touched by the gesture as they ran to hide behind the smugglers wagon. Arthur started calling out orders. ‘Finally,’ he thought, ‘Now this I can handle.’ 

     That night, Merlin and Arthur sat by the fire as Tristan and Isolde slept nearby. “You knew,” Arthur said finally, “You knew Agravaine was betraying me.” He thought back to the times Merlin had tried to warn him and felt guilty for not believing him. He had wanted to trust his uncle so badly. He was his only remaining family that, he thought, didn’t want to kill him for the throne, but Merlin had been right. He should have known there was no one he could trust more than Merlin. 

     “I couldn’t be sure,” Merlin said softly. He hated that he had been right. “But then, I did have my suspicions.” 

     “I feel like such a fool.” Arthur sighed, “I put such trust in him. All this time I was as blind to his treachery as Morgana.”

     “You were deceived Arthur,” he knew as he spoke that statement wouldn’t make Arthur feel any better but he didn’t know what else to do. “That could happen to anyone.”

     “Yet it keeps happening to me.” Arthur argued defeatedly, “I cared about these people. I… I don’t understand. What have I done wrong? Why do they hate me?”

     Merlin knew Arthur wasn’t just talking about Morgana and Agravaine as he spoke and felt a twinge of pain at that fact. He thought back to watching Arthur and Gwen’s relationship grow and while he had tried to help them in the beginning, he had grown to be rather confusingly jealous and hurt by the end. He knew he no longer had feelings for Guinevere, that small crush had ended long before she had begun a relationship with Arthur. However he thought he couldn’t possibly have feelings for Arthur.

     “No they don’t hate you.” Merlin said reassuringly, “They just… crave your power for themselves.”

     “Perhaps,” Arthur shrugged, “Would they still want that power if I was the king my people deserve? Maybe Tristan is right-“

     Merlin cut Arthur off swiftly, “Tristan was angry...” Merlin hesitated, glancing at Tristan and Isolde. He felt a pang of longing watching the two of them, “and afraid. He needed someone to blame, but it’s not you that’s to blame.” He shook his head, certainly.

     Arthur felt uncertain but Merlin’s assurance eased him slightly. “You seem very sure about all this.” He worried he may seem weak for questioning this, his father certainly wouldn’t have, but in that moment Arthur simply wanted his friend’s advice. He knew, no matter what, that Merlin would tell him what he needed to do.

     “All I know is that, for your many faults, you are honest and brave and true hearted,” Merlin paused slightly, weighing the idea of letting Arthur in on the destiny they shared, but ultimately deciding, “and one day you will be the greatest king this land has ever known.”

     What felt like the weight of the world lifted from Arthur’s shoulders. He smiled softly, “Well… good to know I have the support of my servant at least.”

     “I’m not alone,” Merlin said firmly, “Believe me.” He was glad to see Arthur smiling again, he felt as though it had been ages.

     Merlin could not have been more relieved to finally arrive in Ealdor the next day. He had left Arthur, reluctantly, in bed inside his house to reunite privately with Guinevere. He had pointedly ignored the pang of jealousy that he felt while shutting the door.

     “How’s she been?” Merlin asked his mother finally. For all his confusing jealousy, Merlin had spent a lot of time worrying about Gwen since she left Camelot. Though their friendship was not what it had once been, Merlin still cared for her very much.

     “As well as can be expected,” Hunith answered softly, she too had grown fond of Gwen in the time she had spent in Ealdor. “But… a broken heart takes time to mend.” And if Hunith took note of the sad, knowing look on her son’s face, she didn’t say a word.

      Merlin feels as though he’d been doused in cold water when he hears screams from within the village. “Agravaine.” He tells Hunith, rushing inside, “He’s found us.”

     “Any suggestions?” Tristan asks, once Arthur has his chainmail back on (possibly the fastest Merlin has ever been). 

     “Round the back.” Merlin instructs them hurriedly, rushing them to the back door of his small house. He lets them leave before turning back towards where Agravaine is and casting a spell, which sends a cart rolling towards him. 

     “There!” Agravaine shouts, “Get them!”

     The group of them ran through the woods, Tristan supporting Isolde, as fast as they could. They approach the cave tunnels and Merlin shouted, “I’ll cover our tracks, you keep going!”  He turned away from then, running again. He shouted for Kilgharrah in dragon speak until he spotted the Southrons. He headed back towards the caves with no sign of Kilgharrah. He heard the beginnings of a dragon’s roar as he ran into the caves, smiling to himself.

     “Did you lose them?” Arthur asked as soon as Merlin caught up to them. Merlin thought it was vaguely inconsiderate, in a usual Arthur sort of way, but Arthur was mentally scanning Merlin over for injuries from the moment he could see him. 

     “It’s safe.” Merlin replied, imagining Kilgharrah swooping down over the Southrons.

     “You sure?”

     “Do I look like an idiot?”

     “Yes.” Arthur shrugged, finally concluding that Merlin was in fact perfectly fine.

     “Doesn’t change does it?”

     “Which way now?” Merlin looked around confusedly before shrugging to himself. “I thought you said you grew up in these tunnels?” Arthur pressed.

     “I did,” Merlin protested, “Just-- it could be that way…”

     “Or it could be that way.” Arthur finished exasperatedly.

     “Yes.”

     “That’s very reassuring.”

     They eventually decided which path to take and it wasn’t long before they stopped again, hearing movement behind them. “I thought you said we’d lost them.” Arthur said quietly, there was a small comfort in poking fun at Merlin, like falling into a familiar routine.

     “I thought I had.” Merlin replied, which just made Arthur feel uneasy again.

     “It won’t take long for them to catch us,” Tristan interjected.

     Merlin nodded his head decidedly. He knew he was the only one who could take on the following army of Southrons and survive it. “I’ll go back.”

     Arthur’s. 

     Heart.

     Stopped.

     “What are you gonna do?” He forced out, trying to make Merlin stop and stay with the group. 

     “Create a diversion.” Merlin shrugged, almost casually, and Arthur reached out to stop him. The move was completely instinctual, his whole being screaming for Merlin to stay with him.

     “It’s too risky.” 

     “I know these tunnels and Agravaine doesn’t. You keep going.” And with that Merlin handed Arthur his torch and made his decision. He may not have known what it was that he felt for Arthur but he knew that if he was going to risk his life for something, Arthur would be it. Every time.

     “Merlin…” Arthur wanted to say something more, something heartfelt but settled for, “Don’t do anything stupid.” And hoped it was enough.

     “Me?” Merlin laughed in an impossibly bright, ever so Merlin-like way, before taking off into the tunnels. Arthur stood there for a moment, conflicted as he’d ever been, before following after the others. 

     Merlin found the Southrons easily, with only a little magical help, and stopped to take a breath before turning the corner to face them. “Oh hello!” He exclaimed brightly, causing them all to look at him, before taking off down one of the other tunnels. Merlin ran until he felt like his lungs would collapse before hitting a dead end. Swearing internally at himself, he stopped to catch his breath before Agravaine and the Southrons approach from behind him.

      “Merlin. Merlin?” Agravaine repeated when Merlin doesn’t turn to face him. Merlin turned, a pit in his stomach. He knew now that either they made it out of these tunnels or he did and if they made it out, they’d make it to Arthur. Merlin couldn’t risk that. “Where’s Arthur?”

     Merlin shook his head sadly. “Be careful.” He warned.

     Agravaine looked confused. “What are you talking about?” He asked impatiently, “Where’s Arthur?” Merlin shifted his feet, he knew what he needed to do but that didn’t mean he wanted to. “Tell me. Now.” Agravaine ordered, “Or I’ll have to kill you.”

     Merlin shook his head sadly. He was out of options. “I don’t think so,” Merlin said, decidedly. Agravaine took a step towards him and Merlin’s eyes flashed, sending them all flying backwards. He stepped forward to inspect them and Agravaine woke, gasping. He sat up, looking at Merlin. Merlin lowered his head, then changed his mind and looked Agravaine in the eyes. He fixed him with a noble look he’d seen Arthur give his enemies many times.

     “You have magic.” He stated obviously.

     “I was born with it.” Merlin said the words with so much force that the cave seemed to fill with it. He found a small sense of relief in saying it out loud finally after so long. 

     Agravaine stood, watching Merlin, and all of the sudden his face seemed to light up. “So it’s you,” he said quietly, “You’re Emrys.”

     “That is what the druids call me.” Merlin ground out.

     “And you’ve been at court all this time? At Arthur’s side.” He started laughing, almost hysterically, “How you’ve managed to deceive him. I am impressed Merlin.” Merlin shuffled again. “Perhaps we’re more alike than you think.”

     Agravaine reached a hand out to Merlin, but Merlin raised his hand as though to strike him with magic. Agravaine’s smile faded, he gestured submission and Merlin lowered his hand. Agravaine whipped a knife out with his other hand to attack Merlin, but Merlin was faster. His hands shot out, his eyes flashed and Agravaine was blasted backwards. He landed, eyes open, and lay there motionless. Merlin knew it was over. He drew a deep breath before turning and walking away, feeling like his heart had turned to stone.

     Arthur stopped and turned to look down the tunnel behind him, feeling as though his whole being is being pulled in that direction. 

     “What are you doing?” Tristan asked him impatiently.

    Arthur shushed him, listening for what caused what he assumed was just his battle instincts. The rocks around him shook and a cold hand began to claw at his racing heart. “Merlin.” Arthur blurted, without even meaning to.

     “He knows the tunnels,” Tristan said reasonably, trying to urge Arthur forward, “He’ll find his way.”

     But Arthur didn’t hear him. He couldn’t shake the hollow feeling growing in his chest. He couldn’t lose Merlin. “I’m going back,” He said, walking past the others before they could say a word.

     “For a servant?” Tristan exclaimed confusedly.

     Gwen watched Arthur go with a knowing look, “You’re wrong about him.”

     Arthur heard someone coming down the tunnel and readied his sword. “Merlin!” A rush of air seemed to fill his lungs, as though he could finally breathe. “Where have you been?”

     Merlin hadn’t even realized Arthur was coming, everything seemed blocked. His blood was boiling and his chest felt hollow, though his heart was heavy and hardened. Upon seeing Arthur, almost running into him in fact, his senses began to come back to him. “Were you worried about me?” He asked, softening. 

     “No,” Arthur lied dumbly. He knew he had never felt more relieved in his life, but he’d never admit that to Merlin. The age old practices Uther had ingrained in him held true; he always told him that an emotional king was not a good king. “I was making sure we weren’t followed.”

     “You came back to look for me,” Merlin pressed, teasing. He felt human again. His senses were coming back, and he slipped into the familiarity of Arthur’s friendship

     “All right, it’s true,” Arthur sighed. The relief had overtaken him and his walls came tumbling down. This is Merlin, he thought, he could be real with Merlin. “I came back cause you’re the only friend I have and I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Arthur almost regretting saying it at all, but Merlin’s face softened and he knew he was okay.

     Merlin felt as though he was on fire, his feelings coming back to him all at once. Arthur, he had done this for Arthur. He’d do it again if that’s what it took to protect him. “Really?” He questioned, pressing on further. 

     Arthur smiled softly before turning back down the tunnel. “Don’t be stupid,” he called over his shoulder. Their smiles could have lit the whole cave as Merlin followed Arthur, both of them filled with their own relief. Merlin stopped suddenly, stumbling, and Arthur laughed. He was unaware that Merlin had finally come to the most important realization of his life. The realization that would change his life forever, should it ever get out. 

     He loved Arthur Pendragon. 

     What was worse, in Merlin’s opinion, was the other realizations that accompanied the fact that he loved Arthur. The feeling he had felt seeing Gwen and Arthur had been jealousy, that he wanted nothing more than to tell Arthur how he felt, and even worse yet that if he told Arthur how he felt he would have to tell him about his magic. 

     “So, where now?” Tristan asked as they finally reached the other side of the mountain. They were a mess of various injuries, Arthur was holding his wounded ribs and Isolde was being almost entirely supported by Tristan. 

     “To the plains beyond the mountains.” Arthur said decisively.

     “You sure?” Tristan questioned, “That’s Lot’s kingdom. He’s no friend of the Pendragons.” He looked at Arthur, quizzically.

     “Well, maybe we could find somewhere here. A house where we could rest,” Gwen spoke up. She was clearly trying to take the blame off of Arthur and defend him subtly. It was so unsubtle, and such a terrible idea, that Merlin almost rolled his eyes.

     “We’re fugitives,” Tristan stated, “A danger to anyone who harbours us.”

     “He’s right,” Merlin spoke up, “We must travel back towards Camelot.” He glanced at Arthur, who had been avoiding his gaze for that exact reason.

     “No,” he argued, “We need to keep going.”

     “If we hold up in the Forest of Essetir, we’ll be safe,” Merlin reasoned, “At least for a while.”

     Arthur knew Merlin was right, as always unfortunately, but he was afraid. Though he’d never have admitted it he couldn’t help but feel as though he had failed his people, he had let Morgana take the throne. He had trusted Agravaine even when Merlin, Merlin of all people, had told him not to. “No.”

     “If anyone has survived this battle,” Merlin persisted, “That’s where they’ll be hiding.” Arthur finally caught his eye and Merlin looked at him reassuringly, but determinedly. 

     “I know which I’d do,” Tristan interjected, “You’re the king, Arthur. You’re our leader…”

     “All right,”Arthur sighed, breaking his eye contact with Merlin, “Forest of Essetir it is.” Merlin stared after Arthur as he walked away. 

     When they had finally settled into the Forest of Essetir, Arthur set about helping Tristan to collect firewood. “Well well well, look at you.” Tristan spoke snidely after a moment of awkward silence, “First you go back to rescue your servant,” Arthur’s head was still spinning a little with the image that had rushed into his head when he had heard the noises in the cave. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Now you’re getting your hands dirty. But then again, why shouldn’t you? You’re just like everyone else. There’s nothing special about you, is there?” Tristan continued, landing on all the right buttons to push.

     “Well, maybe you’re right.” Arthur conceded softly, “Maybe I don’t deserve to be king.”

     “Well, that’s alright, cause you’re not.” Tristan said bluntly. Arthur almost dropped the wood he was carrying. “Not anymore.” Then he strutted off without another word. Arthur was really, truly reeling with it all. He tossed the wood aside, frustratedly, running his hands through his hair. He started walking, determined to clear his head. He barely heard Gwen calling after him until she grabbed his arm. He stopped abruptly and spun around to face her. 

     “Don’t.” Arthur exclaimed, and Gwen pulled back. “What happened in Ealdor was a moment’s weakness.” Gwen flinched back, “What you did to me… Everything I cherished between us, everything we had, it’s gone. That’ll never change.” On top of everything else, he couldn’t shake the feeling that had clung to him since that moment, that things with Gwen just didn't feel right anymore. He thought it was just betrayal, that he was still angry with her, but he slowly realized it was something deeper than that. He just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. 

     Merlin and Arthur were lounging by the fire that night and Arthur still couldn’t quiet the whirlwind happening in his mind. He crossed his arms as he sat, puzzled and saddened. 

     “Come on, I’ll take watch.” Merlin said, but it went unnoticed by Arthur. “Arthur, what’s the matter?” Merlin asked, and Arthur finally looked towards him. “Don’t listen to Tristan, he doesn’t know you.”

     “I trusted the wrong people.” Arthur said, quietly.

     Merlin shook his head, “They betrayed you. That wasn’t your fault.”

     “No. I was a fool.” Arthur argued, “I misjudged everyone… my uncle… Morgana. Every decision I’ve made has been wrong.” 

     “You’re not.” Merlin argued softly, “You’re a worthy king.” Merlin knew this, of course, because he knew Arthur was really the “Once and Future King who will unite the lands of Albion” though he couldn’t tell Arthur why he knew that. 

     “I’m good with a sword,” Arthur lamented, “That’s all.”

     Merlin felt so immensely sad for Arthur in that moment. Being Arthur’s manservant had given Merlin an exclusive look into the life of a crowned prince, a knight, and finally a king. He had always known there was an enormous weight on Arthur’s shoulders, and though he tried to ease it and help Arthur where he could it would never be enough. “Your people love you.” Merlin said, finally.  As do I, he almost continued, before stopping himself. 

     “Most of them are dead,” Arthur replied, missing the almost startled look on Merlin’s face as he continued to brood. “Thanks to me.”

     “No, most of them escaped,” Merlin said declared, “They’ll be here in the forest, I’m sure of that.”

     Arthur didn’t want Merlin to be right though. Because if they were in the forest, Arthur would have to face them. “Well, if they are, they’ll have to find themselves a new king.” Arthur couldn’t bare to see disappointment in Merlin’s eyes too, so he got up and walked away. He could hear Merlin calling after him but he couldn’t face it.

     When Merlin woke Arthur he had a solid plan formulated in his mind. Arthur would believe in himself again, Merlin was determined of that if nothing else. Talking to Kilgharrah the night before had given him an idea, for once, of what he needed to do.

     “What?” Arthur asked, grumpily, at being woken up.

     “There’s something I need to show you.” Merlin said. He turned and walked away and Arthur sat confused for a second before grabbing his sword and following him.

     “This had better be good because this really isn't the time for one of your ridiculous games.” Arthur grumbled, following Merlin through the forest anyway.

     “I was thinking about last night and how you were saying how you'd given up all hope, how you were a poor leader and a shoddy king,” Merlin replied, slipping once again into the familiar routine of teasing Arthur.

      "Shoddy?” Arthur repeated, doubtfully

     “All right, shabby."

      “Thanks”.

     “Well, it reminded me of a tale Gaius once told me,” Merlin started.

     “Merlin, I'm really not interested in your favourite bedtime stories.” Arthur was tired, and grumpy, and he didn’t want to hear what he thought was going to be more of Merlin teasing him. 

     “For once in your life, just...listen.” Merlin sighed. Arthur held his hands up in surrender. Merlin continued “Many years ago, before the birth of the five kingdoms, this land was in an endless cycle of bloodshed and war, but one man was determined to end all that. He gathered together the elders of each tribe and drew up plans for the lands to be divided. Each would respect the others' boundaries, and drew it over the land as they saw fit. That man was Camelot's first king, ancestor to all that followed, including you, Arthur.”

     “Bruta,” Arthur interjected.

     “You know the story.”

     “Yes, every child in Camelot does. Can I go back to bed now?” Arthur was growing impatient, though part of him knew that Merlin didn’t usually go on like this for no reason. He almost turned back to the camp, but Merlin kept walking and he kept following on instinct, if anything.

     “No,” Merlin sighed again, “Because there's another part of the story that you haven't heard.

     “Really?”

     “When Bruta was on his deathbed,” Merlin continued, “he asked to be taken deep into the forest. There, with the last of his strength, he thrust his sword into a rock. If his lineage was ever questioned, this would form a test. Only a true king of Camelot could pull the weapon free.” Arthur stopped walking and stared at Merlin curiously.

     “Are you making this up?” He asked abruptly.

     “Of course not.” Merlin chuckled. He continued walking, leaving Arthur to try and figure out if he was lying or not. Arthur kept following him.

     “All right. If it's true, why haven't I heard this story?” He asked, doubtfully.

     “Well, history isn't really your strong point, is it?” Merlin chuckled again, teasing once again.

     “And where is this rock?”

     “Oh, it was lost many years ago during the Great Purge, but,” Merlin paused to look at Arthur, “I've managed to find it.”

     “I've never heard so much rubbish in my entire life,” Arthur laughed, finally.

     “Are you calling Gaius a liar?” Merlin laughed too, just a little.

     “No, I'm calling you an idiot,” Arthur countered, finally sinking into the familiar as well.

     “What's that then?” Merlin smirked Arthur followed Merlin's gaze and settled on the sword, stuck in the stone as Merlin had described. They walked closer to it and a crowd of Camelot knights and people came from the trees, surprising Arthur. Merlin smiled, his plan had worked. Arthur glanced back at him and caught sight of Merlin’s beaming proud expression. He wanted to keep that expression on Merlin’s face forever

     “What the hell are you playing at?” Arthur questioned.

     “I'm proving that you are their leader and their king,” Merlin said proudly.

     “That sword is stuck fast in solid stone,” Arthur argued doubtfully, realizing Merlin’s plan.

     “And you're going to pull it out.” Merlin said firmly.

     “Merlin, it's impossible.”

     “Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot.” 

     Arthur glanced back at the crowd of people watching them before looking back at Merlin. He knew from the look in Merlin’s eye that he wouldn’t back down. “Do you want me to look like a fool?”

     Merlin bit back a retort of well yes, before continuing, “No, I'm going to make you see that Tristan's wrong; you aren't just anyone, you are special. You and you alone can draw out that sword.” Merlin, of course, believed in Arthur above anything,

     Arthur drew his own sword and stuck it in the ground before glancing at Merlin. “You better be right about this.” He approached the stone slowly. He looked up at the crowd hesitantly, not wanting to disappoint them again, then placed both hands on the hilt. He tried to pull it up, but the sword wouldn’t move, just as he suspected.

     “You have to believe, Arthur,” Merlin interjected. Arthur pulled at the sword again, arms shaking with effort, but still nothing happened. Merlin glanced at the crowd and saw them all watching Arthur intently. “You're destined to be Albion's greatest king.” Arthur let go of the sword, ready to give up, but Merlin spoke from behind him. “Nothing, not even this stone can stand in your way.” Arthur remembered the look on Merlin’s face when they had entered the clearing, he looked at the faces of his people, and he wanted to earn their pride. He positioned himself, placing one hand on the swords hilt and closing his eyes. “Have faith.” Merlin murmured.

     Arthur lifted his chin, picturing their faces, Merlin’s face, and willed himself to believe. Unbeknown to him, Merlin’s eyes finally glowed and the sword was released from the stone. Arthur pulled it out and stared at it in awe. 

     The people watched, shocked, until Leon spoke up. “Long live the king!” He exclaimed. Suddenly the chant echoed through the clearing as Arthur thrust the sword into the air triumphantly. He glanced at Merlin, who smiled at him, and Arthur came to his own startling realization. He loved Merlin. He was a complete dollophead but he couldn’t do it without him and he loved him. 

      “What about the drawbridge?” Arthur asked, standing around with his knights. 

     “Well manned.” Leon replied.

     “As are the northern gates.” Percival added, as though he had foreseen Arthur’s next question. Arthur almost swore in desperation.

     “The battlements on the south side?” Arthur knew the castle better than anyone, he had lived there all his life,  he played there, fought there, trained there. It was his home all his life, he knew it like the back of his hand. Unfortunately so did Morgana.

     “Arthur, even if we can get inside, she has an army.”

     “And we have what? A few hundred?” Arthur almost swore again but he steeled himself. This had to work. He would save Camelot. It was his home, they were his people. 

     “And they still outnumber us,”

     “Yeah but only three to one.” Arthur argued stubbornly. Leon chuckled in the background. He had known Arthur the longest, he had seen that one coming from a mile away.

     “And you think they’ll fight?” Isolde interjected, sceptically.”

     “Well they’ll fight for Arthur.” Leon defended.

     “It’s not me they fight for. It’s Camelot.” Merlin almost scoffed in the background.

     “No Arthur,” Leon voiced the argument Merlin didn’t, “It is you that people love, and you that they will lay down their lives for. I know that I would ride into the mouth of hell for you.”

     “And I.” Percival agreed. Tristan and Isolde exchanged surprised looks.

     “And I.” Merlin voiced, causing Arthur to catch his eye. 

     A thousand words seemed to pass between them in that moment. It steeled Arthur’s resolve and strengthened everything he believed. He drew his sword, hardly breaking eye contact, “Into the mouth of hell it is.” He could do it, he hoped. He had his knights, and somehow more importantly he had Merlin. He wanted to believe that could be enough, so it would be.

     Planning had taken its toll on Arthur. He was exhausted by the time nightfall hit, wandering around the camp almost aimlessly. His mind was a little fuzzy until Merlin jogged up behind him. “You all right?” Merlin's voice cut through the fog and cleared Arthur’s head.

     “Yes.”

     “Do you think there are too many of them?” Merlin questioned. Arthur was stubborn, Merlin knew better than anyone. He’d never admit his concerns to the knights, especially in front of Tristan, but Merlin knew they were there. He could see it in Arthur’s eyes as they planned. 

     “Southrons are men like you and me. Men we can fight. But Morgana…” Arthur shook his head, sighing, “Her power is so great and we’ve got nothing to answer it with.” 

     “I never finished Gaius’s story,” Merlin piped up. He wouldn’t let Arthur doubt himself, he’d make up a thousand old stories.

     “Not now, Merlin, please.”

     “Will you just listen?” Merlin put his hand on his hips, sighing. Arthur was too tired to argue with him in that moment. He knew Merlin wouldn’t be telling him this if it weren’t for a reason. Merlin believed in him, Arthur knew it but in that moment his need to hear it was crushing.

     “When the sword was thrust into the stone, the ancient king foretold that one day it would be freed again at a time when Camelot needed it most. The man who freed it would unite the land of Albion and rule over the greatest kingdom the world has ever known. That man is you, Arthur.” Arthur’s brow furrowed and Merlin smiled softly. Gods how he loved him.

     “You’re making this up.”

     “Why would I do that? Your heads already as big as your waist.” Merlin chuckled. There was something in Arthur’s eye that made him continue, “I believe it though. And I believe in you. I always have.” Arthur's chest felt lighter and he revelled in it for a moment. Taking in the proud look in Merlin’s eye. He glanced at his sword, considering it before letting out a sigh. 

     “That may be true,” He took a shuddering breath, “But we’re still no match for her magic. We have only a few hundred men and no way to protect against her power. My father always taught me that magic was evil, and so were all those who practised it, and yet now it seems to be our only hope.” Suddenly it was all just pouring out of him. He was so tired. “Maybe magic isn’t evil, I’ve seen it be good, it’s the reason I’m even here at all. But then it also killed my mother. Maybe it’s just corruptive, who knows, but we stand no chance at defeating Morgana alone.”

     “Don’t worry about that.” Merlin interjected softly. He had to tell Arthur, he knew it in that moment, and it broke his heart. 

     “Merlin-” Arthur started to argue.

     “Arthur,” Merlin interrupted. He took a deep breath, “You don’t have to worry about that, I will take care of it.”

     “What are you going to do, Merlin?” Arthur asked incredulously. He had no idea what had gotten into Merlin in that moment.

     Merlin took a great shuddering breath and stepped closer to Arthur. There was a humoured glint in his eye and Merlin was lost in it. He studied Arthur’s face, trying to commit to memory the way he was looking at him now. Tired but at the same time awake and so impossibly full of life. There was trust in his eyes and Merlin clung to it, the thought of never seeing it again crushed him. But Arthur needed to know, he couldn’t doubt himself or they really would fail. Merlin steeled his resolve and, with a last look at Arthur’s smiling face, lowered his voice, bowed his head and spoke his truth. “I have magic.” Arthur froze, his smile slipping. “I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.”

     “Merlin…” Arthur breathed, almost unconsciously. He wanted to believe it was a trick, but he looked in Merlin’s eyes and he knew it wasn’t. “Why did you never tell me?”

     “You would have chopped my head off,” Merlin tried to joke, but his heart was heavy. Arthur would never look at him the same way again, he’d never trust him. He knew, he’d always known, that this day would come but he had never expected to love Arthur so much when it did.

     “That’s what worried you?” Arthur asked quietly. His mouth was hardly moving, he was hardly even aware he was speaking at all. Merlin having magic went against everything he had ever been taught about magic. He had always been taught that sorcerers were evil and yet here stood Merlin. Clumsy, stupid, brilliant Merlin. Suddenly he was overwhelmingly tired, his mind was spinning and the ground seemed to sway. 

     “Arthur, I can sneak into Camelot and disable Morgana’s magic. It may be only temporary but it might be enough to let us defeat her.”

     “You can’t just go sneaking into Camelot, we wouldn’t be here if you could, Merlin. It’s too dangerous.”

     “I’ll use magic,” Merlin argued in a loud whisper, “She’ll never even know it was me.” 

     “Merlin-”

     “It could be our only chance Arthur. I’m going to do it. You can put me on trial for it when we get back to Camelot if you wish. I’ll be arrested for sorcery anyway.” And with that Merlin stormed off, leaving Arthur reeling in his wake. 

     That night, as he’d planned, Merlin snuck into Camelot and planted an effigy under Morgana’s bed that would take her magic. He’d disguised himself as the Old Man, the face Morgana associated with the name Emrys. With Agravaine dead there had been no one to correct Morgana’s theory. Morgana had seen him and panicked and Merlin knew the sight of him would cause her more paranoia than he could imagine. When he’d returned to the camp he was exhausted. He’d collapsed into sleep under a tree only to be woken up a short while later by Arthur.

     “Wakey wakey,” Arthur snapped his fingers in Merlin’s face as he stared off into space. “You look as though you’ve been up half the night.” He seemed determined to pretend that Merlin hadn’t said anything last night, and Merlin didn’t know what to make of it. The fact of the matter was that, from what Arthur could tell, Merlin didn’t have an evil bone in his body.

     “I was,” Merlin gave Arthur a look before adding, “Couldn’t sleep.”

     “I thought you said you had faith in me?” Arthur joked. He couldn’t hate him, he’d realized after hours of tossing and turning. He needed Merlin. Merlin had been by his side for so long Arthur wasn’t entirely sure how to function without him anymore. And yet, there was a distance between them now. Arthur couldn’t help but think back to everything his father had ever told him about sorcerers. But then he’d look at Merlin, who’d been beside him since the beginning, and found he could scarcely believe any of it. But he had to be careful. He loved Merlin, he knew that now, but he couldn’t let that cloud his judgement. Not again. 

     Merlin was confused, for once he didn’t know what Arthur was thinking. But he had spent all night dreading the look in Arthur’s eyes that morning and found it had been much the same as the night before. There was a glimmer of apprehension in Arthur’s eyes, but there was trust there too. So much trust. He wouldn’t let that opportunity go to waste. “Whatever gave you that idea” He answered back. Arthur shrugged and smiled at him and Merlin felt like his chest could have burst from relief. Arthur went off to talk to Tristan and Isolde, presumably to say goodbye, but it seemed they planned on staying around. Merlin watched proudly as Arthur left them with a nod, he knew they’d see Arthur for who he really was. 

     Arthur had stepped away for a moment to escape the commotion of the camp and the battle planning. He needed to clear his head. He drew his new sword, admiring the inscription and feeling the balance. He thought of the moment he’d pulled it from the stone, seeing his people look on him with admiration and pride. Even thought he’d managed to let Morgana take Camelot in  the first place. He heard a rustling in the bushes behind him before he heard someone speak.

     “Arthur,” He registered it as Guinevere’s voice and turned, half in shock. He wasn’t sure who he’d expected. “If anything happens to us, I want you to know…”

     “Guinevere--”

     “I understand why you can’t forgive me. I don’t know why I did what I did. But I am sorry for the hurt it caused you.” Gwen walked away, leaving Arthur to consider what she had said.

     When the time came, Arthur and his men armed themselves and took place outside the borders of Camelot. Arthur swung his sword forward, signalling for them to move out. The knights split off into groups and the fighting started. Arthur fought his way through the Southrons fiercely, holding his still injured ribs in the moments between. Merlin was never far from him, following through the wreckage. He made sure the Southrons were down for good. 

     Outside the council room, Arthur and his party took out the last of the guards. “Whatever happened to the idea of finding a bit of land and settling down?” Isolde quipped to Tristan as Arthur walked past.

     Arthur stood next to Merlin and looked at his new sword. “You know this thing’s not half bad.” 

     “Thought you might like it.” Arthur chuckled as everyone regained their breath and composure. They stood ready to enter the council chambers, where the worst of Morgana’s guards would be. 

     “Ready?” Arthur asked.. Everyone nodded and took a breath. 

     “For the love of Camelot!” They shouted and charged in, only to skid to a stop when they saw that the room was only occupied by Morgana, who was lounging on the throne, and one man. 

     “Welcome, dear brother,” Morgana said airily, “It’s been far too long.” She stood and walked toward them, continuing. “I apologise if you had a difficult reception. It’s hard to know who to trust these days.” She stopped in the middle of the room, looking at Arthur expectantly. Arthur approached slowly, holding his sword in an open hand. She watched his hand closely and he slid the sword back into his belt for the first time since they arrived. He met her in the middle, studying her closely.

     “What happened to you Morgana?” Arthur asked softly. The look in Morgana’s eye was almost regretful as she studied him in return. Hurt was plain on both their faces. “I thought we were friends.”

     “As did I.” Morgana’s voice was soft, but then it hardened like steel, “But alas we were both wrong.”

     “You can’t blame me for my father’s sins.” Arthur argued.

     “It's a little late for that. You’ve made it perfectly clear how you feel about me and my kind.” Arthur’s thoughts shifted to Merlin and the look of fear in his eyes the night before. He could almost feel Merlin shift on his feet behind him, he fought the urge to look at him. “You're not as different from Uther as you'd like to think.” 

     “Nor are you.”

     “I’m going to enjoy killing you, Arthur Pendragon.” Morgana sneered, “Not even Emrys can save you now.” Arthur drew his sword and Morgana smirked. “Your blades cannot stop me.” Merlin braced himself silently, unnoticed by Morgana as she exclaimed, “Hleap on bæc!”

     The room stood still, but nothing happened. Arthur stood, still ready for an attack, as Morgana looked confused. Morgana tried again, raising her hand for strength. There was a quiver of fear in her voice as nothing happened once again. Arthur realised Merlin’s plan had worked with a slight rush of pride but he was overcome by sadness as Morgana’s state.

     “Not so powerful now, my lady.” Arthur said sadly. Morgana’s guard, who’d been standing off to the side until now, pulled her behind him and she took off running. “After her!” Arthur exclaimed, and Merlin and Gwen took off in the same direction. Arthur struggled to fight Morgana’s guard. His ribs were screaming in pain with every movement. The guard knocked him down, disarming him, and raised his sword for the final blow. Arthur thought of Merlin. Before the guard could make his move, Isolde stabbed him in the back. He spun around, slicing Isolde as he dropped dead. Arthur realized what had happened when he saw the look in Isolde’s eyes. He rushed forward to help her, Tristan at his heels.

     Merlin and Gwen returned to the council room to see Tristan holding Isolde to him with Arthur crouched in front of them. 

     “Our dreams…” Isolde trailed off.

     “Isolde, don’t.” Tristan said softly.

     “I wish…”

     “I wish too.”

     “Hold me.” Isolde’s voice quivered with fear. Tristan held her closer and her eyes drifted shut. He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her before burying his face in her hair, sobbing quietly. Arthur’s gaze drifted up to look at Merlin who looked up to meet his gaze slowly. Merlin could see the guilt in Arthur’s eyes. They held each other’s gaze silently. Gwen looked between the two of them and nodded to herself, understanding. 

      Later that day, Merlin set to work cleaning Arthur’s chambers, which had been completely ransacked. He set a chair upright at the table as Arthur entered. Merlin watched him inspect the room sadly. “It will take some time.” He said quietly.

     “Well you’ll take care of it,” Arthur chuckled. Merlin smiled at him, once again trying to memorise the look on Arthur’s face, here, before the inevitable.

     Merlin sighed, “Arthur, if you want to put me on trial for sorcery… I can leave. I’ll go back to Ealdor. You don’t have to see me again.” Merlin’s heart ached at the idea as he watched Arthur’s face expectantly.

     “Merlin, I don’t want to do that. Quite the opposite actually. I want you to stay.” Merlin looked at him confusedly and Arthur took an involuntary step towards him. “Merlin…”

     “You don’t have to say anything,” Merlin interrupted,  fiddling with the sleeves of his jacket nervously.

     “Everything that’s happened between us…”

     “Arthur please, I know I lied to you.”

     “I don’t care.” Arthur grabbed Merlin’s hands to stop his twitching. Merlin met his eye cautiously. “I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Arthur said heavily. Merlin smiled a little, but Arthur could see the apprehension in his eyes. “For god’s sake Merlin,” he chuckled, squeezing Merlin’s hand softly. He took a step closer to Merlin. “I’m not going to banish you or put you on trial, I couldn’t.” Standing this close, he could see the different shades of blue in Merlin’s eyes, the hints of gold. He could see the dirt smudged on Merlin’s brow and cheek and the faint splatter of blood on his face. 

     Merlin was confused, to say the least. When he had told Arthur of his magic, he had half expected him to kill him on the spot or banish him right then and there. He certainly never expected Arthur to speak to him again, let alone look him in the eye as he did now. He felt as through the rug would be pulled out from under him at any moment, that Arthur would reveal it was a trick. But then, he could have killed Merlin right there and Merlin would have been okay. Arthur’s hands were warm on his and his gaze was gentle. Merlin could have died happy there. 

     Arthur lifted his hand and wiped the dirt from Merlin’s cheek softly. He saw the confusion in Merlin’s eyes and laughed. “You really are an idiot, aren’t you Merlin?”

     “Must be from all the time I’ve spent with you,” Merlin quipped, instinctively. 

     Arthur’s hands cradled Merlin’s face softly as he threw his head back laughing. “I could have you thrown in the stocks for that.”

     “You could try but what’s to say I stay there this time, I could just magic my way out, what’s the harm now?” Merlin chuckled, “Besides given the state of the castle they probably aren’t even there.”

     “I’ll have them make new ones.”

     “I’ll break them.”

     “Sometimes I think you forget who I am.”

     “You’re a prat. And a royal one.” 

     Arthur shook his head laughing. “What am I going to do with you, Merlin?” Merlin shrugged, smiling. Arthur’s hands were still resting on his face and Merlin’s had found a place on Arthur’s waist, almost involuntarily. “You’re lucky I love you, you clotpole.”

     “That’s my w--” Arthur cut off Merlin’s indignant muttering as he surged forward to press his lips to Merlin’s. Merlin smiled into the kiss, deciding he was quite happy Arthur didn’t kill him. He’d much rather be doing this for eternity.

     “I love you too, dollophead,” Merlin murmured as they pulled apart. Arthur scoffed and kissed him again. 

[elysiumwaits]

Hey! For the OTP prompts could I please request no. 17 - first kiss? For either Merthur, Sterek or Stucky, dealer’s choice. Thank you.😘

Here you go, one Sterek First Kiss for you! Available on AO3 here: Ideal Situation or below:

If Stiles were pressed to come up with a description, he would say that it happened much in the same way that most of the important things in his life do, with the threat of danger and death looming over his head, and as the direct result of an ill-advised, impulsive decision.

The plot twist here, however, is that it’s not Stiles’ impulsive decision.

He’s definitely at fault, or at the very least a contributing party. It is not an ideal situation; in fact, Stiles would go so far as to say it is the exact opposite of an ideal situation. An ideal situation, in Stiles’ mind, is after a nice dinner and maybe a movie. Maybe following a pack meeting, when there’s no one else around while they clean up the soda cans and throw away the pizza box. Hell, Stiles would even have settled for an ‘oh my god, how did we survive this, I’m so glad you’re alive’ kind of situation in his Jeep or the Camaro.

Instead, Stiles is wedged into a crevice far too small for a grown man to be able to squeeze into, let alone a grown man and one buff werewolf. The whole forest is riddled with hunters that don’t seem to give a flying holy fuck about anything other than Derek’s furry problem. They certainly don’t seem to care that Stiles is human, and have made it perfectly clear that they will happily dump him into a shallow grave at the first available opportunity, should the need arise.

They’re at a pretty severe disadvantage. Stiles is bruised all to hell, cradling his wrist to his chest as best he can because he’s like sixty percent sure it’s fractured, and his cell phone is dead in his pocket - which, honestly, it’s not like he’s got service out here in the middle of Bumfuck Nowhere anyway. On top of that, Stiles doesn’t have the tools he needs to break Derek out of the heavy-duty cuffs keeping his wrists behind his back. Not even a bobby pin, let alone his actual picks.

Long story short, they’re fucked. They’re so fucked, they’ve gone completely FUBAR, Stiles is absolutely going to die out here, hiding in some tiny hole in a rock wall and pressed stupidly close to Derek, and he can’t even enjoy it because he’s too riddled with anxiety and stress. 

Though, if he’s being honest, being well and truly in Derek Hale’s personal space before he dies was on his bucket list. He just didn’t want it quite like this.

“You have to be quiet,” Derek hisses.

“I didn’t say anything!” Stiles whispers indignantly.

“Your breathing is loud.” Derek glances out of their little hiding spot again and shifts on his feet. Unfortunately, Stiles’ injured wrist is pressed between their chests, and even that minute movement draws a pained sound from him, far too loud for their current situation. Derek looks at him sharply.

Stiles stares back, trying to muster up a glare. “I’ll just stop breathing then, since I’m so loud,” he snaps in a whisper.

A twig snaps nearby, and Stiles actually does stop breathing at the sound. He doesn’t dare move, not even to try and peek out past Derek to see his own death coming. Derek shifts again, though, and Stiles absolutely can’t help the way his mouth opens for the pained gasp to escape.

Suddenly, there are lips over his own, quick and pressing. Stiles goes absolutely still with shock, before he kisses back almost automatically, and then definitely of his own volition. Dying pressed close to Derek Hale is one thing, but dying while finally kissing him? Stiles will take it, he’ll settle for that.

He doesn’t even hear if someone comes closer, his heart pounding in his ears. Derek pulls away, and Stiles starts breathing again - admittedly much quieter than before. 

“I didn’t have my hands to put over your mouth,” the werewolf says. He sounds fucking apologetic, and Stiles would smack him if he weren’t too busy trying not to injure his wrist further or give them away. “But they’ve moved away now, I think.”

“Did you just kiss me to shut me up?” Stiles hisses after his brain reboots. 

Derek gingerly starts to shift away, sidling out of the crevice. “That was one of the reasons, yeah.”

“One of the - what are your reasons, Derek?” The words come through gritted teeth as Stiles tries to brace his wrist while emerging from the crack in the rock as well. Derek can’t reach out and steady him at the moment, after all.

Derek isn’t looking at him, instead staring at what seems to be a very interesting patch of forest floor. “I thought that if we did get caught, it would be… good to have kissed you at least once.”

In the distance, Stiles can hear howls, and relief rushes through him. 

“We’re going to talk about this,” Stiles says, promise and intent thick in his voice. “After we’re safely back in Beacon Hills, after I have a cast on this wrist, and after you’ve kissed me at least ten more times.”

Derek had looked up at the howls of their pack coming to their rescue, and now his gaze slides to Stiles. “I can agree to that.”

[iasfuturekings]

Diantha and Claudia headcanons... I beg...

All righty I’ll just pull out this OTP questions meme~

Diantha is the more affectionate of the two and is a very touchy person who likes to enjoy company with others over material possessions. Claudia isn’t as touchy because she doesn’t have great self esteem and prefers giving gifts and doing favors for Diantha.

Claudia is the big spoon, and Diantha is the little spoon. The only people who know this fact is anyone who’s ever caught them snuggling in bed (Diantha’s siblings, Jakob, a few other servants)

Both of them hate it when the other is working too much and don’t have time for the other person. Diantha gets upset because a lot of important people in her life are notorious workaholics, and Claudia points out that she unwittingly takes after the same people.

Their favorite kind of date is horseback riding together into the sunset because Esterlyn scenery is best viewed at twilight hours.

Both of them are squishy mages, but Claudia can at least heft Dia if she tried hard enough.

Diantha loves Claudia’s cheeks and broad shoulders. Claudia gets lost in Dia’s eyes all the time.

Their romance was the definition of childhood romance and slow burn. Realizing they loved each other wasn’t much of a flashpoint moment so much as they entertained the idea of taking another step further and loving the entire way up.

Claudia worries the most, growing up as the youngest marquess of her own house and knowing the struggle of maintaining financial stability and politics. Diantha has lived in more relative luxury and is slightly more carefree (unless Xander and Mars get hurt).

Claudia, who often gets gifts for Diantha, has very good memory about Diantha’s likes and dislikes than many realize. Diantha, who’s always keeps tracks of what Claudia’s up to, is good at getting in tune with Claudia’s mood. Their friendship runs that deep.

Claudia would be the first to tell family and friends about their relationship, because Dennis is the nosiest person, Silas has pretty bad luck of finding out, and Jakob hates secrets being kept from him. Diantha wouldn’t tell siblings or consorts not in her alliance, but she’d wait for a while to tell Xander or Mars.

Their relationship is an open secret, but those who know are generally happy for them. Those on Claudia’s side are glad someone is able to bring unadulterated joy in her life, and Dia’s siblings either think Claudia is a person genuinely deserving of Dia or is a potentially important asset in the royal court. Claudia doesn’t mind either perspective.

Diantha is the better dancer and will be the one to encourage Claudia to dance with her at parties. Claudia is still a very stiff person when dancing, but she’s improved considerably because of Diantha’s help.

Even though Diantha is the family chemist and botanist, Claudia is the better cook. She’s had to learn these skills after having to cut costs in her estate to keep Esterlyn afloat after her father’s fall to illness. The Lovells believes highly in sustainability but not skimping on good taste.

Diantha is the cheesier one because she was raised on Garon’s poetry. Claudia is not as into flowery language like Dia is, but she’s learned enough to know all her references and respond in kind.

Diantha is unsurprisingly the more likely to whisper inappropriate things in public to Claudia, simply because she finds amusement in riling Claudia up, but she does so sparingly.

My theme song for them is “Garden of Everything” by Steve Conte and Maaya Sakamoto. I heard it once on a Merthur fanmix and thought it was lovely and hopeful that even though they’re separated in this mortal coil, they will eventually reunite somehow.

Diantha would sing lullabies to children she takes care of. Claudia, well, we already know how Silas turned out.

Claudia and Diantha are of the habit of penning letters to each other often. The capital of Windmire is ways away from Esterlyn, so a lot of their communication involves a lot of long distance. Windmire Castle and the Lovell Estate can expect boxes and boxes of letters almost every month from both women.

Something that breaks my heart about them? Well, for starters, Dia is dead, and Claudia is stuck out here living with the grief and her heart will always belong to Dia, marriage to someone else or not. Also, Diantha’s image is used a lot by Anankos (mostly to get back at Xander, Anri, and the rest of the family), but Claudia is heavily affected by this, too.

What mends my heart about them? In the case that Claudia doesn’t marry anyone, she still manages to find happiness in other things while devoting all her life to preserving Diantha’s memory. Not having a spouse would mean Claudia gets to hang as many portraits of her girlfriend as much as she wants without looking weird.

[capmerthur]

THE BODY SWAP (COMPLETE)

It's all in the title :) Somewhere end S1 (after 1.11 Labyrinth, but pre 1.13 Morte). In a land of myth, and a time of magic, Arthur awakes inside Merlin's body (and no, not in that way). Alternating Merthur POV. Bonus Gaius. Mentions of Will and George. Short flash of Kilgarrah. Also: this is ENTIRELY Bradley's fault. I fell upon THIS (see link in the tags); and honestly? It just needed to be written... Ready? Here we go...

I. AWAKING (ARTHUR POV)

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

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

In disbelief, he eyes his surroundings...

Where is he? Has he been abducted?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

Oups! I just stumbled into the BBC Merlin fandom - what can I say, I'm always late, at every party - but I'm planning to STAY, you bet :) This is just a silly thing that got into my head but I just HAD to write it... I hope you'll like it as much as I do ? Hugs to you all !

Also, mirrors were probably not so advanced at the time... But let's say Merlin has an enhanced one, after all he has magic, right...

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II. AWAKING (MERLIN POV)

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

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

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

Whaaaaaaaat?!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

(*AN) Headcanon time :

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

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

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III. DISABLED (MERLIN POV)

But soon, Merlin is terrified.

And not because of the puzzling body swap.

*HE HAS NO MAGIC!?*

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

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

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

No, no, no, no, nooooooooooo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

Thanks to you all for your amazing support :)

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

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

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IV. PLANNING (MERLIN POV)

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

"So. Whoever has done this is targetting you - personnally."

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

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

"Well, obviously *you*'ve forgotten, but I am Camelot's Crown Prince, responsib-."

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

"Oh... Do you think... Could someone be... training on us, then? Before attacking-"

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

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

Merlin can't help but let out a helpless (yet realistic) sigh: "That's... a lot; on both accounts."

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

/

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no.

/

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

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

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

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have brought a full pitcher at dinner then!"

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

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

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

Merlin scratches his head, summoning some courage: "Do you want to... hold-"

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

"Would you rather it to be your hand-"

"It's *your* hand right now!" Indeed. So. Another 'No way'.

But suddenly Merlin has a solution, of sort: "What if I... go sit into the stream? There's a quiet spot not so far from the castle I found while collecting herbs for Gaius... If I hurry I still can make it back before the pleas."

Arthur actually claps his hands, obviously relieved: "Sometimes, I swear, you are a genius." He hurries over, handing Merlin his tunic and grabbing the Pendragon red doublet before marching out: "Let's go!"

"You're coming?" (hastening to put the tunic on and grabbing a towel before following)

"Well, as I just said, it's bound to happen to me - you - so I might just as well tag along, and know where it is."

/

Once out of potentially spying ears reach, they plan the day further.

"We HAVE to tell Gaius, at the least, about our situation: no one will contest his word if he says you're not to train for a while - because honestly how am I supposed to spare with your Knights? They will notice right away that something isn't right. And, well..."

Merlin hesitates, not wanting to incriminate Gaius in any way. As it turns out, he doesn't have to:

"You're right. Besides, Gaius has heard about a lot of... stuff, in all his years. I was planning to go around Jeffrey and look for the forbidden books, but I have no ideas how many volumes are hidden down here, nor where they even *are* to start with... If anyone we know might have even the slightest clue about how to fix our problem, it's him; even if it's only about finding an adequate book."

Merlin nods, relieved: "So. After the pleas, I stage a fall, and we go to Gaius, who tells you're not to train for the time being. That leaves the rest of the day free, both for looking up about our situation, and briefing me on what I should be aware of for tomorrow's concil. Do you address things in an established order; who's whose specialisms; what you discussed by the latest concils which might be brought up again tomorrow; and so on..."

"I'm supposed to make the battle plans, Merlin? But as far as plans go, I have to admit this isn't a bad one. Except I'm not you; I do not trip on my feet twice a day. So. I'll make you fall. That's more plausible."

"No way! You'll end up in the stocks!" Merlin realizes how - no matter what he might have been thinking just a few months ago - he simply doesn't want Arthur in the stocks. Ever. "Which is NOT where you should be spending your afternoon." Merlin quickly amends; hiding his concern under logic's sake, knowing it to be the best way to persuade Arthur anyway. "So. You fall. I try to help you. But we both fall. I'm clumsy, as ever; you're noble, as always; everyone get to laugh at me, and praise you; and your father might skip punishing me for you getting hurt in the process, as you obviously didn't want me hurt to start with?" (pause, before adding earnestly, yet fiercely, as Merlin isn't able to tone back the surge of threat in his eyes at the mere idea of having anyone disrespecting Arthur in that way) "If he doesn't though, I'll stand guard next to you."

"Would you?" Arthur seems surprised; but touched: "Well, who knows, maybe I'll return the favor the next time."

Merlin can't refrain a whine: "The next time?"

"Even I can't save you from my father's wrath every time; it's bound to happen, either from your two left feet or your snarky mouth."

They can hear the water now, and Arthur accelerates towards it, as Merlin lags behind, unable not to smile:

"I guess I'm supposed to say 'thank you'?"

"I might have forgotten to mention I'll probably throw something in your face myself at the last moment. Prince's privilege and all that..." - Arthur even turns towards him, giving him one of his goofy faces to boot (Merlin didn't know *his* face could do *that*, by the way).

Merlin just keeps on smiling anyway. He probably hasn't felt that positively, ridiculously happy since "I'm rehiring you - because someone needs to muck out my stables". Arthur has a particular way to express fondness, and Merlin wouldn't change it for the world.

.

AN: Sorry? I'm cackling though. Poor boys, what they have to go through... Just remember it's all Bradley's fault anyway; none of this is on my head :)

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V. THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MERLIN (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur is the first to reach the stream, and crouches down to test the water with his hand.

"It's cold", he warns, while Merlin walks in a straight line towards a tree with a low hanging branch and starts undressing - he does come here often, clearly.

Merlin shrugs: "Be grateful it's not winter yet. Try bathing around Imbolc - that's cold." Merlin goes on; stating an afterthought while hanging his pants on the branch: "Still worth it though; everything here is just more... alive, you know. You don't get that indoors."

And Arthur has bathed on patrols enough to know that, honestly?: he prefers his warm baths. He can't help but feel a smile on his face though at the words; they are so intrinsically Merlin.

/

Arthur had been struck, when they had met. No one had ever defied him, in any way. And it had stung; Arthur could admit. So. He had not been displeased at all when he had overmastered the fool and turned him over. The affront had been too public to be allowed to slide, and Arthur had decided he wouldn't dwell a further thought about the goodhearted fool (Arthur knew terrorrizing people wasn't right. He tended though to react badly whenever anyone acted cowardly (which was, well, all the time, around him); especially as he was actually *praised* for it somehow), but fool nonetheless, who should have known to mind his own business...

It had been nothing though in comparison to his surprise when their paths had crossed again. Arthur hadn't been able NOT to taunt him - hoping, somehow... But the last thing Arthur had been actually expecting had been for Merlin to act *exactly the same*. Surely, now that he knew who he was, he would just scrabble around him as anyone else - not defy him again, knowing it would get him in chains again, right? Arthur had been *delighted* by Merlin's untamable fire - the words, and then the look he had thrown at him while taking his jacket off? (Maybe Arthur had just been waiting all his life for someone to finally stand his ground to him, indeed...) Of course Arthur had let him go without punishment that second time - and any time since then (which was honestly difficult, as Merlin - always fighting for what was right more than for himself Merlin - frequently got riled up, be it in private OR IN PUBLIC, by literally anyone and anything).

Since he has been to Ealdor though, Arthur can't help but see things under a new light.

Hunith is everything Arthur believes a loving mother to be. But there had been no father at home, nor any mention of one. (Arthur knows the sting of this kind of wound - missing a parent; and he had been saddened, as he had realized that Merlin bore such a wound too.) Arthur hadn't dared to ask, but he had wondered: did Merlin ever got a father to start with; or had he been abandoned - intentionally or not? (Arthur knows how even an accident still feels akin to a betrayal in a child's heart.) Which would be the worst anyway? But what if Merlin had been bullied through his childhood because of it? - children could be particularly malicious, when they intended to... Was it how Merlin had learned, the hard way, that fighting - both with his words and his fists - was the only way to end the pestering? And had decided it wouldn't be only for his own sake, but for the sake of anyone who might ever need help? Was it what had brought Merlin close to Will - the fact that they both had lost their father? Was it the reason Will had wanted to learn magic to start with? (Arthur knows the near constant anger, too. As does Merlin, obviously.)

Arthur can't help but feel grateful anew, somehow, and no matter what, still, that Merlin has had Will around: surely, no matter how bad the fights Merlin had jumped into, Will must have kept him safe - at least safe enough - *with his magic*. The thought had been unbidden the first time it had occured, and had definitely surprised Arthur; but he hadn't been able to deny that it was what he truly felt indeed.

/

Because of course Arthur had come to care for Merlin. Isn't it why he had gone to Ealdor to start with after all...

Merlin.

Definitely not an ordinary manservant. And probably not the champion manservant by any book (fast learner, and smart, and hard working, he was; but only about what *he* deemed important - hence for example his total disregard for any kind of storage? - but Arthur generally agreed with what Merlin deemed important or not anyway). But honestly the only manservant Arthur now could imagine ever having - or ever want to have.

Because Arthur likes Merlin as his manservant exactly just the way he is, and would now never wish for another - no matter (and specifically because of) how well-schooled and zealous to satisfy his every need (and whim) that hypothetic other might be... Arthur now sees what others might judge flaws as assets (Merlin's clumsiness and chattiness are more endearing and uplifting than unefficient, especially as his opinions always sound reasonable; his sarcasm and insults are a sure way to keep Arthur's head from ever getting inflated; and his challenging manners push Arthur to do and be better - from training with the knights to saving people's lifes), and what others might judge insubordinate as being treated, for once, finally, as an equal, somehow (even though they both know and acknowledge they aren't) - no matter whenever it comes out at Arthur's expanse too, food getting shoved into his mouth and getting unceremoniously pulled out of bed included in their everyday banter, as Merlin can give just as much as he gets indeed. But that's maybe what Arthur values the most: how Merlin's respect feels earned and honest; neither forced by birthright or fear for repercussions, nor cajoling nor calculated.

Arthur has never had a private servant for longer than a year - his Father's rule; but you bet Arthur is decided about keeping Merlin at his side when the year would end. He will have to strategize; he will need irrefutable arguments. But if he plays his cards well - and Merlin never ceases to hand him over cards to play - Arthur has no doubt that his Father will actually allow it: it's in the best interest of the Kingdom after all.

Merlin.

A whirlwind. Always animated, always busy; never still, even when he's doing nothing. But always so expressive - so easy to read - a fact Arthur has come not only to appreciate after decades around perpetually guarded scheming faces, but even to *trust*.

A chatty nature-loving poet with dangly limbs, gentle heart, and the brightest smile Arthur has ever seen - Arthur has come to know. Yet the sassiest mouth and the most unrelenting fighter Arthur has ever met; his utter lack of skills balanced by sheer defiance - Arthur has learned right from the start. (Merlin just never backs off, no matter the odds; which is very stupid, but also very brave.)

A confusing, clashing mess of contraries. But an admirable man, with a beautiful soul.

And you bet Arthur wouldn't have him be any different.

Arthur shakes his head. Maybe - just like with his two left feet - it isn't Merlin's choice to be such a poet all the time. Arthur hasn't been inside Merlin's body for more than a few hours, and already he is turning into a maudlin bard himself, huh...

/

Arthur sighs; bringing himself back to the present - only to be struck by Merlin yet again.

Merlin has by now disrobed of everything except for the leather, which he has rolled up to his chest (logic; it would take too much time to tie it up all once more), and the tunic, which he now holds tightly in a bundle against his chest too, even if (and no doubt exactly because) it must get in his vision range as he enters the water. The lengths Merlin now goes again, simply to avoid to *see* - treating his body with the utmost respect, even when it is betraying him?

It should be insignificant, but the whole endeavour screams once more just how *devoted* Merlin always is, to him; and it is honestly dumbfounding.

He has been willing to die for me. And more than once.

The thought slices through Arthur's mind; as usual charged with guilt, and heartbreaking, yet oddly sweet.

Arthur doesn't understand: he has truly done very little to earn such high esteem - and that's an euphemism. Getting the man in the stocks? Letting him drink poison destined for him? Having his only friend die?

But you bet Arthur cherishes it all the same. And he wants - oh, he WANTS - to be worthy of it. Not because it's what he ought to do, repaying kindness with kindness, loyalty with loyalty; and definitely not because he owes Merlin a friend - you can't replace a friend (even if Arthur never actually had a friend, he knows that it's supposed to be a special, powerful, unique bond). Not even because Merlin does indeed makes him want to be a better man - even if that's true, and definitely positive for the future of Camelot. But simply because HE. WANTS. TO. Arthur has realized by now how he is always tempted, whenever they are together: either to act silly in order to cause a smile; or to provoke Merlin until he bites. Both reactions feel peculiarly satisfying; spreading a pleasant warmth through his whole being - and Arthur just always has to smile...

So.

On impulse, Arthur disrobes Merlin's lower half and enters the (indeed very cold) water while holding his tunic bundled up too, keeping his eyes stubbornly fixed on his own body sinking until the water reaches up to above its waist, as Merlin sits on his knees in the middle of the stream. And yes, the fact that Arthur has just chosen to abide by Merlin's stubborn dedication on that matter, instead of letting his perpetual interest about literally everything run free, for once, (because yes, if he hadn't witnessed Merlin's commitment, Arthur might have taken a look at Merlin's body, out of sheer curiosity; he wouldn't though, not from now on...), is both a pledge and a self-serving whim.

Merlin, drawn by the sounds, turns to him with questioning eyebrows, and Arthur sheepishly drops on his knees next to him: "I thought it unfair to let you have all the fun on your own. Now, ready to scare the fish?"

Merlin howls with laughter. Arthur decides it's definitely worth playing silly while freezing his ass off.

.

(Imbolc = 31 january)

Feel free to come and fangirl with me over 1.01 and then scream with me over 1.10 !

On a side note, I'm sorry but not sorry about that fish line? It was *totally* unplanned but then it just rolled out and I went 'yep, sure, arthur would, totally; it stays!' ?

.

VI. THE PRINCE'S PART (ALTERNATE ARTHUR/MERLIN POV)

They get out; get dried; put their clothes back on. Merlin ties the towel to the branch, for future use.

Then, on their way back to the castle, Arthur asks Merlin about his agenda for the day.

Merlin gives him a look - like he's unsure whether Arthur means it. Arthur gives him a look back - meaning he isn't joking indeed.

Merlin smiles, eyes full of mirth: "Your chambers are a complete mess, your clothes need washing, your boots need cleaning, your dogs need exercising, your fireplace needs sweeping, your bed needs changing and, oh, *someone* needs to muck out your stables." Merlin sobers up. "But we have more pressing matters at hand; so I think you can consider yourself free for the day."

Arthur is taken aback. He recognizes his own words, of course. It's both baffling and humbling - that Merlin can quote him, months later? and that Merlin has omitted one part and one part only in his old speech, because they both know his armour doesn't need any repairing (the devotion Merlin shows those metal pieces echoing the devotion he shows to Arthur himself)? Arthur had first planned to give a playful thankful bow; but it would feel wrong.

"So. I'll go bother Geoffrey. Try to get him to show me where the secret books are hidden. I'll tell him Gaius has found a strange herb and wants to make sure it isn't dangerous or something..."

/

Merlin has to give Arthur that: he is indeed insightful.

The mention of Gaius's name though has Merlin slightly panicking again: Gaius doesn't know yet about their current situation. What if he mentions 'something' upon walking on Arthur thinking he is him? No. Merlin has to be there when they'll get to see Gaius.

"Speaking about Gaius? Stay clear from his chambers. I doubt he'll be as magnanimous as I am. He'll do that thing with his eyebrow and have you pick herbs and brewing healing potions and concocting ointments before you even got a chance to tell him about our predicament - he's really dedicated in my education as a physician, you know..."

"And I believe you rather enjoy it."

"I do, indeed. I mean... It's fascinating - do you know that the same stuff can cure you or kill you sometimes, depending on the dosis? Anyway, who wouldn't want to know how to save lives?" Merlin can't help but twitch. "I'm not sure I'm any good at it though..."

/

There is a flash of guilt in Merlin's disheartened eyes, and Arthur realizes two things:

1) Merlin feels responsible for having been unable to save his friend Will. Which is understandable, because Merlin must have gathered by now some knowledge from Gaius's lessons; but heartbreaking - because Arthur has seen enough arrow's wounds to know that Will's could never have healed - and perplexing - because Will has died to save *him*, not Merlin; so why would Merlin think the guilt was his to start with? and how come Arthur has never felt like Merlin might blame him for it either?

2) Merlin's face is always *transparent* - a fact Arthur truly appreciates on Merlin's face - but a fact that could turn out problematic, now that it's on his own face...

"Let's get back to my chambers. There is still something you should master better before the pleas."

/

And that's how Merlin finds himself positioned by Arthur in front of a mirror.

"What do you see, Merlin?" Arthur asks.

"Well, you?" Merlin feels he's missing Arthur's point, but he has no clue...

"Do you? Because I see my body, I see my clothes; but I do not see the Prince of Camelot - I'd like to think I play it better than that - and I must be, because my Father would not allow *this* I assure you - at least I hope or the kingdom is doomed." Arthur ends on a sigh, shakes his head, and then turns commanding eyes back towards Merlin via the mirror. "Close your eyes, Merlin. Think of me. I mean, *picture* me; and more especially, picture me at any official activity you've served me through. See how I walk, how I stand, how I sit, how I move, how I look?"

Merlin does as asked, searching through his memories. After a while, he nods.

"Got it?"

"I think?"

"Then open your eyes, Merlin. What do you see?"

Merlin understands now. He can't help but sigh helplessly. "Not the Prince of Camelot. Obviously. I'm sorry, Sire, I guess I'm just not... majestic enough to play you."

"It's not that hard, Merlin. Come on; I'll explain. Ready?" Arthur grins at him via the mirror, exuding confidence - trust in him?; and Merlin would face (has faced) monsters to earn it indeed.

Merlin nods, their eyes still linked via the mirror.

"First thing first? You're slouching."

"Yes. (Merlin tries not to slouch; but is still not satisfied with the result) I think though the biggest problem is- There's something wrong with your face."

"Because you wear your heart on it, Merlin; and you mustn't. Believe me, you do not want to be lectured for hours about this by my Father..."

Arthur moves away, and Merlin can't see him anymore in the mirror. His voice is directing though, and Merlin focuses on the words to school his face.

"You're a prince, so you *must* always look like one. No matter what you do, you must always, *always*, look confident. That's the first strength of a kingdom - the strenghth of its ruler. That's what keeps your people safe. So. Chin up, Merlin. Square your shoulders. Stand tall - stand *proud*."

Merlin realizes the words are not Arthur's; they're Uther's. He wonders how often indeed Arthur has heared those words - most probably often enough to give himself a internal pep talk before any official anything apparently...

"That's better; but still not good enough. No matter how you feel inside must not show, Merlin. When you're tired, hide it. When you're sick, hide it. When you hurt, hide it. When you're stressed, hide it. When you worry, hide it. When you doubt, hide it. When you're bored, and even more when you disagree; hide it - it's disrespectful; and we do not want wounded pride to fester, don't we Merlin? When you're afraid, definitely hide it. When you're sad, hide it. And the trickiest part maybe: when you're happy, hide it too - or risk whatever is making you happy to be taken away: weakening you is weakening the kingdom; and its enemies will never hesitate to bring you down, if you let them see even an inch of an opportunity."

Merlin is shaken. He feels guilty, somehow. This is, certainly, too intimate. Merlin feels like he's intruding. This feels even more trespassing than being in Arthur's body. It's like being forced in Arthur's head, without his consent. It's nauseating.

"Again, Merlin. Your eyes; focus. It's a part; but it's part of your job. So for the love of Camelot, Merlin, please try harder. Your people reckon on you to lead them and protect them; so it's your duty to be a leader, and to be strong. Work hard; harder than anyone else. You *must* be an example, an inspiration. You must be admirable in everything, so that your people will follow you everywhere. But you must lead, Merlin; never follow. A ruler is alone - *must* be alone. Do not trust anyone; at least do not trust anyone more than anyone else, and surely not more than you trust yourself. Your own judgement must *never* be clouded."

Merlin can't help but turn towards Arthur at the words, both in disbelief and in ache... Because Merlin has grown up hiding, but he had never realized that Arthur had, too; and maybe even more than him. Arthur must not only always pretend and perpetually watch over his shoulder; he must pretend and watch over his shoulder *alone*. And Merlin can only imagine how hard that must have been, and be. Back at Ealdor, Merlin had (and still has) his loving mother, and he had Will. Even here, now, Merlin has Gaius. And somehow, yes: he has Arthur too, Merlin suddenly realizes; and then feels ashamed, because he can't help but feel blessed - Arthur trusts him. Because Arthur is definitely less guarded around him, isn't he? When it's just the two of them; Arthur and Merlin? Arthur laughs, Arthur doubts, Arthur *shows*; maybe not everything - but that's probably not possible as he is so trained - but something at least always shines through; even if it's by putting his feet on his face... But Merlin knows now, how rare and precious it truly is. They can never be friends, maybe; but Arthur trusts him. That's undeniable; and that's everything, somehow.

"Do not look at me; look at the mirror, Merlin. Harden your eyes. Smile; always politely, even when you don't want to smile at all; more genuinely, when it's true - but never let it go up to your eyes. First thing about tomorrow too; as we're at it. Hear everyone out. Listen with your full attention to everyone; whether you agree or not. Never decides right away; except if it's necessary, in war time. Your decisions must be thought upon; never a spur of the moment. If something is unclear, do not let it show during concil. If you favor a position, do not let it show during concil. If you disagree, do not let it show during concil. You need further advice, or even only further information? Seek the appropriate person in private; ask man to man. They will see the honor in it if it's positive, and be thankful you kept it private if it's negative. Also. You must be ready to be impartial, Merlin; because you do not need to be kind, but you must always be fair. You may - and you will, unfortunately - make mistakes; but never ackowledge them. Fix them. If you can't; repair as much damage as possible. Learn from your errors, in order to never make the same mistake again. But never apologize. Come on Merlin; I'm sure you can do it. You're nearly there."

More over, Merlin realizes the Arthur he gets to see nowadays - the true Arthur - has always been there already, even under the pretense of the moron. Kilgarrah is wrong. His destiny isn't to change Arthur; because there is nothing to change. Arthur already has everything to be a great king, the greatest king, all on his own.

And so, Merlin is *angry*. He has now yet another reason to despise Uther, it seems - scarring his child on the inside in such a way. Of course Arthur always feels inadequate; of course Arthur feels lacking; of course the only bond Arthur values is the one with his fellow knights - ride to glory or death, together? It's the only bond Uther has authorized him to authorize himself to ever have... But Merlin's anger is a good thing, apparently - because whenever Merlin thinks about Uther, Arthur finds that he's playing the Prince's part better.

"There Merlin, you have it. See? Right there. Lock it; just like that. That's good enough for anyone looking today; because believe me, someone *will* be looking, even if only my Father and not the one who switched us or anyone else with ill intentions - there is *always* *someone* looking, Merlin."

Fine. Think about Uther; until the pleas are done. Merlin can do it; and he'll gladly do it. He'll probably gladly do anything; for Arthur. He can still have a cry or hit a wall afterwards, right...

.

Arthur needs a hug. I volunteer. Anyone with me? (besides Merlin, obviously...)

.

VII. DOOMED (ARTHUR POV)

With a last commanding yet encouraging nod, Arthur leaves Merlin by the Great Hall's entrance and starts to make his way towards the Library.

He is stopped by Merlin's name being called out twice - because he has failed to react right away; Arthur chastises himself. It is the headmaster recruiting hands: his Father wants his bath ready when the pleas end.

Arthur doesn't want to bring Merlin in trouble, of course; so he takes on the ordered job - after all, how complicated can it be?

He is paired with a newcomer answering the name of George who looks up to him as if he holds the sun: the Prince's manservant! Which isn't that bad. Until he starts, seemingly embarrassed but curious all the same, to ask questions like "Is the Prince as terrible as they say?" or "Is it true he throws knives?" and such? Arthur tries to explain that the training field is, well, to train? He isn't sure the message gets across though, as George only holds his eyes with a perplexed gaze...

Arthur can't help but hope that Merlin at least understands that he's not only training himself but also trying to get Merlin to know how to defend himself if not to attack whenever he comes at him with a mace or anything... He should maybe make his intentions clearer, apparently...

Anyway. After yet another round of carrying buckets full of cold or warmed-up water up and down and left and right, Arthur realises there is more to it than it looks; and the bath is only half full still...

And when they're nearly done? His three coworkers and the headmasteer seem satisfied, but Arthur can't help but think while bringing up the last two buckets that they achieved nothing more than a luke warm bath with a clean but no particular scent. Merlin's baths are definitely of a superior category on both accounts, and Arthur doesn't know if he should feel guilty and spoiled for regularly enjoying better baths than the king himself, or more amazed or worried about Merlin's bath-preparing skills (is he even thinking about his safety? he wouldn't actually carry boiling water up the stairs, would he?)

Arthur decides he should address the issue. And maybe take baths downstairs from now on just in case - a little backroom near the kitchen would be more practical than his chambers, wouldn't it? When the space isn't needed for banquets preparations and such of course...

Arthur misses the first step towards the second floor (it's actually the eleventh time today that he misses a step - he still isn't used to Merlin's feet). This time though, his balance is too lost for him to compensate and he falls backwards, landing on his butt and ready to get soaked and hit by the water and buckets he has released when instinctively freeing his hands (one to help catch his fall; one to protect himself from the falling projectiles). Except nothing comes: no water, no hit - and no falling sound either. And when Arthur takes a look? The buckets and water are... floating above his head?

Arthur gasps in surprise, his mind going both blank and reeling...

Then only does Arthur finally get drenched and hit on the shoulder.

Arthur blinks. Twice.

What has just happened isn't normal, at all. Only - only magic could make such a thing possible!

Arthur looks around, instinctively - scanning for a threat.

He is alone; the corridors are empty as far as he can see, and he hears no voices, nor steps.

Which is good, because no one is attacking him then.

Which is the worst though - because if there is no one around... then the only person responsible for what he has just witnessed must be - is - HIMSELF?!

Arthur gasps again; this time in panick.

His first instinct is denial. But he knows what he saw. And somehow, it just makes sense, doesn't it?

It's not the body of the Prince that whoever switched him and Merlin is after. It's his mind...

Put him in the body of a servant, give him magic, and sooner or later (and most probably sooner) he is bound to die by his Father's law. What is he supposed to say in his defense? That he IS the Prince, in another body which had been given an ounce of magic on the sole purpose of getting him executed? Who would ever believe him...

In the meantime, the schieming sorcerer must have judged that a servant in his body may be too delighted by the upgrade in status to be a threat to his plans and would gladly unknowingly collaborate, on top of being totally untrained and incompetent at any of his duties.

Then? One only has to kill the King, either by making him 'ill' or using the same trick again and - for sure - Camelot is doomed to get wiped out from the map by the first band of Saxons passing by (and most probably enticed to pass by very soon after its King's death): its only true heir gone, and the supposed one obviously improper to defend it. All of it without casualties on the attacking side, and without anyone knowing how it all came to be, which means no one, even loyal to Camelot, would have a reason to stand against the new regime put in place.

Arthur is more afraid than he has ever been - and he has been in combat enough for that fact to mean something. He feels crushed; defeated, even before the battle - and honestly? He has never despised himself that much. No matter that he has never felt both so unprepared and so intrinsically useless - and not even able to trust himself: surrender is simply inexcusable. Camelot depends on it.

Besides, Arthur owes it to Merlin to fight, right. It's after all Merlin's body that's to die along his spirit. Oh! The villainy, the cowardice in this attack! Use an innocent victim as a vessel to be sacrificed. Sorcerers definitely have no sense of honor indeed.

So. Arthur is angry now. A much more suited mindset, he decides - as long as he doesn't allow it to blind him. And he won't. Merlin's body depends on it too.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He has been taught strategy even before he could talk, right? Time to make a plan of action.

First. He is not as alone as Camelot's enemy has calculated him to be. He is, in fact, not alone at all. He has Merlin.

Loyal Merlin; not only willing but even devoted to getting back into his own servant body rather than happily playing the prince. Magic familiar and open-minded Merlin - which means Arthur has not only someone who won't judge him nor fear him to confide in about his new endangering (and in so many ways) abilities, but also someone who might have some basic understanding of it; since he was Will's friend? Heart-in-the-right-place Merlin: too kind, maybe (but he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it); but naturally just and fair Merlin. Brave, fierce, tenacious Merlin; too reckless though (but again: he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it). Ressourceful Merlin, fast-learning Merlin: he would master his body's strength, eventually; and Leon would be here to lead the Knights in the meantime... Arthur takes an oath. Even if they fail to find a solution to their problem, Camelot won't be left unprotected. Come what may; even the worst? Merlin *will* be ready to take his place. Having Merlin's unique edges smoothed out feels wrong; but it just has to be for show, right?

Second. Well, there is no really second yet; at least not more than what they have already planned. They need to find some books - and pray that they will be useful. And Arthur will just have to be particularly attentive about not repeating the kind of blunder he just did with witnesses present.

Yes. Merlin. Books. Start at the beginning; and with luck, it might just work out in the end.

Arthur cleans up as best as he can, using and wringing his soaked tunic in the buckets, then runs to Merlin's room for a set of dried clothes. Turning up to retake his place at 'Arthur''s side while drenched would only draw unwanted attention...

.

So. Basically? Yep. This is a magic-reveal unreveal fic. But. I mean... It's Arthur? Also: this fic (to me) is canon (fitting) - so it just can't be a reveal fic. Bonus: it explains too why Arthur doesn't get the courage-magic-strength trio hint later on. He thinks Merlin is magic; but only because there is some residual trace to sense from when his body had magic (aka this fic), not that he actually has magic still at the time... Arthur can be at the same time very aware yet very unaware, and he can be so very biased and decided to see things his way, no matter how circumvoluted, right? (Also, of course Arthur thinks in fact then that HE is magic in the trio: he was after all the one inside Merlin when his body had magic; and Merlin IS courage - Arthur has such a low self-esteem to start with...)

On a side note: Arthur would actually trust Merlin with Camelot (even despite his limits). If that doesn't tell you all there is to tell then I don't know how to express it. *SIGH* *GROSS SOBBING* (Gwen though is  innately  made to be Queen - but Arthur doesn't know that yet. He isn't wrong about Merlin though - for Arthur's memory? Merlin would do his best to be a great King too, you bet...) *GROSS SOBBING AGAIN*

.

VIII. MERLIN'S CHAINMAIL (ARTHUR POV)

"Merlin! My boy! You're soaked! Did you provoke Arthur again and end up under the well for it this time?"

Great. Gaius sounds half amused half concerned. Does actually *everyone* think him to be a brute?

Well; nevermind. Merlin knows better, right - and that's what matters. Merlin is never backing away, Merlin is never really complaining; Merlin just watches him with mirth in his challenging eyes: I dare you. Of course Arthur HAS TO then... It's like... kind of a private wordless conversation only the two of them understand. But honestly? Arthur wouldn't trespass Merlin's limits - if anything, Arthur would probably even feel guilty, if Merlin actually ever made one known...

But then, Gaius is patting his shoulder, pushing him towards 'his' room; and Arthur is stunned silent, as he can't help but relish on the (for him unusual) affectionate paternalistic small gesture.

"Get changed. Get warmed up. You'll tell me later. I haven't heard the bell signaling the end of the pleas, it is already so late? I've just finished Sir Kay's potion, and it should be drinken warm, as you know; so I'd better be on my way. We'll prepare Uther's draught and the balm for Little Kathleen's knee when I'm back. Also, I'm afraid I've ruined my coat; if you could work your magic on it next time you're mending Arthur's clothes, I'd be very much obliged?"

And then Gaius is gone, and Arthur is still stunned, but now for another reason - it was but a polite turn of phrase, of course, and Arthur knows Merlin just isn't capable of miracles, as proven by the state of some of his shirts - beyond mending; but Gaius would better not use some idioms that carelessly around the palace - who knows who might hear and takes things the wrong way... Arthur shakes his head as he hurries to change, feeling sorry for letting Gaius down, but not planning to stay around until Gaius comes back - he wouldn't know anyway how to prepare his Father's nor Kathleen's medicine, right...

Arthur opens Merlin's cupboard.

There are only two folded set of clothes (neckerchief included indeed), and Arthur just takes the one on top.

He's about to close the door when his eyes fall on Merlin's chainmail on the shelf below, ready for use, a shirt already tucked inside it.

/

The first time Arthur had told Merlin that he had been assigned to lead some patrol, Merlin had right away asked:

"When do we leave?"

Arthur had been surprised, then had tilted his head, apprehending Merlin while explaining that coming along was to be Merlin's choice; and not per se his duty as palace manservant. They usually asked for volunteers; there was extra coin to be earned and such.

Merlin had only repeated:

"Sire; when do we leave?"

Arthur had been surprised again, but definitely pleased:

"Tomorrow at first light."

"I'd better start packing right away then. What do you need?"

After having listed their necessities, Arthur had mentioned that he would have a chainmail sent to Gaius's for Merlin to wear. Merlin had countered that he had no wish for carrying extra weight around as it would only slow him down in his chores; and that he would rather wear his everyday clothes. Arthur had said it was folly to go unprotected - they would patrol the borders, and thiefs and saxons could fall on them - and Merlin had finally relented some and agreed to wear a chainmail he would self adapt as he wished above some clothing but under his tunic. Arthur had been suspicious when Merlin had turned up the next morning without even a cap showing out, and had actually moved his neckerchief aside to make sure Merlin was wearing metal under his tunic...

/

Without hesitation, Arthur takes the chainmail out too, deciding he should wear it under his clothes. After all, the longer Arthur might succeed in hiding his new abilities, the more chances there are that the one responsible for their troubles might choose to turn to more expeditive measures of his own. Killing a servant might go unnoticed for awhile, and would work just as well in case whoever had planned this got tired of waiting for Arthur to betray himself and get executed. Which means that Merlin's body is just walking around as a mark waiting to get hit... and Arthur should do his best to protect it. Merlin's chainmail is barely worth its name; but it does cover his chest, belly and back, at least.

Arthur makes it back to the Great Hall right on time for the end of the pleas. It was the moment they had planned to stage for Arthur's injury; but Arthur discretly but authoritatively signals 'no' with his head. It would be too risky; what if while falling he instinctively uses magic again - in front of the whole court? Merlin gives him a curious look but follows his cue anyway, thanksfully. There is still enough time to create an excuse before training; and they can still tell he fell even without witnesses anyway. It would have been a nice added touch at make-believe, but Gaius vouching for them should be enough on its own, right?

As they walk in silence back to Gaius's quarters, Arthur feels Merlin's eyes upon him, boring and questioning. So when they pass by his chambers, Arthur takes the opportunity for privacy. Once behind closed doors, Arthur leads them to the most private corner, as far from the door as possible. Then he takes a deep breath, and turns towards Merlin to explain... everything.

He hasn't got the time to start though before Merlin hushes out, worry evident in his voice, pointing to Arthur's side where a hint of metal is visible if you pay attention - and Merlin always pays attention, doesn't he:

"Sire? Why are you wearing my chainmail?"

.

AN: It's canon after all that Arthur doesn't force Merlin to come along - he lets him leave before Camlann, right? But yes, this is just me giving some sense to the 'just let's Merlin accompany us everywhere without any kind of protection' unacceptable general policy. So. Merlin *has* some protection. We just don't see it. Okay? And the few times he's actually in armor on patrol, it's because they need a decoy or something... Also, just so you know: Merlin of course thought that Arthur would probably think that he didn't want to be seen in a chainmail because he didn't want to look like a soldier in order not to seem a danger nor a target, but Merlin just couldn't care: he HAD to be an unconspicuous nobody - it made it easier to protect Arthur with his magic if no one really paid attention to him. And to end with a cute note: whenever they ride out ? Arthur always checks that Merlin wears his chainmail - a fact Merlin can't help but always secretly revel in...

.

IX. REVELATIONS (MERLIN POV)

Arthur looks anxious - which only makes Merlin worry more.

"I found out... why I was put into your body. I'm sorry, Merlin. I wear your chainmail because your body is in great danger; and it's all because of me... again. "

"Wha-"

Arthur cuts him with an imperative gesture from his hand, voice hushed - even though it echoes in Merlin's ears like a shout:

"I have- I mean you have... Magic!"

Merlin's breath catches; panick rising. Arthur knows! Arthur knows?

Arthur seems to read his struck expression though as simple denial.

"Yes, Merlin; you heard right! Magic! I saw water and wood floating above my head - floating, Merlin! - That's the only way to explain it! But I have no idea how it gets triggered, I have no idea how to control any of it - I fell and it happened, I guess, instinctively? Now you understand why I couldn't have us stage a fall... If people find out? *When* people find out? My Father will have me - YOU - beheaded!"

Merlin's eyebrow furrow. He doesn't understand. If Arthur knows he has magic? How come Arthur looks *contrite* instead of angry; afraid *for him* instead of afraid of him? Not that Merlin is complaining about the fact that Arthur obviously doesn't wish to see him beheaded, of course; his evident worry is even heartwarming, in a way... but heartbreaking, too, as Merlin can't help but feel that Arthur's reaction must be induced by some reason that he doesn't comprehend yet but that has little to do about him having magic at all...

Arthur then fully explains his theory about their attacker using his body to get to Camelot by erasing Arthur, then Uther, and marching against a Camelot lead by an unprepared servant playing Prince. Merlin is shocked, and shaken. Because indeed Arthur's reaction isn't about him having magic at all, but about Arthur feeling responsible for his body's impending doom. But what hurts the most yet is the heavy guilt that settles upon Merlin's chest - crushing, constricting, inescapable - as he realizes that in fact everything is his fault! Arthur's thinking may be flawed on one account; but the rest of it makes sense, indeed. And so Merlin cannot deny that Arthur has been targeted and put into his own body because whoever did this actually knows that he has magic.

And so Merlin feels panick rising again, and even worse than before. It is already complicated enough for Merlin to hide his powers - and he has had practice at it since his birth. How could Arthur ever successfully hide them for long... And to think that *HE* might be the cause of Arthur's death? It's worse than anything; worse than everything. And it's devastating. Merlin can't hold Arthur's gaze anymore.

Arthur probably thinks he is overwhelmed by the surprise of his body being a target though.

"And I'm sorry - again, Merlin - but I can't go and hide at some random remote place until I've worked out how to subdue it at least, if not suppress it. There is no time. I can't leave Camelot; not when it's so endangered."

Merlin feels like screaming: Arthur shouldn't apologize; Arthur shouldn't feel guilty - It's all on him!

"It's all right, Sire. I know you're right: we have to stay here. After all, our best shot to end this mess is to find guidance in some books; and our best shot to find said books is staying here." (Also, you bet Merlin isn't willing to leave Camelot either because he is going to consult with Kilgarrah... Merlin had planned to go to the Great Dragon at the first occasion right when he had realized they had switched bodies; but he now can't help but wish for the night to come even sooner.)

Arthur looks surprised by Merlin's easy acceptance as he lets out: "I was going to point that out too?"

Arthur seems to hesitate an instant, taking a deep breath; but then, probably finally enticed by the fact that they still are on the same page apparently, he hushes out words that Merlin had never imagined he would ever hear, even in his wildest dreams.

"Now that's settled... Do you have any idea that might help me keep it in check? I mean... Back in Ealdor? Did your friend Will maybe ever share something with you that we could use? Anything?"

Merlin's mouth falls open; but nothing comes out of it. He realizes just how surreal it must have been for Arthur to utter those words. But Arthur looks decided, as always. He means it. And that's when Merlin realizes Arthur is in fact ready to *learn*. Arthur still doesn't trust magic, and definitely doesn't trust his magic now that he has some; he only sees it as a treacherous condition. But he is willing to face it outright, instead of wishing or pretending it isn't even there to start with. And Merlin realizes that this isn't only proof of Arthur's mighty heart; but that it also might actually be their saving too, with some luck?

And so Merlin just HAS to take a chance. Anyway, Arthur *needs* him; and how could Merlin ever let him down to start with... Besides, what if it made Arthur realize that magic isn't only to be feared; that magic can be good, too, actually?

"Maybe you shouldn't learn how to keep it check, but how to have it *work*?"

Arthur opens his mouth now, either in shock or to retort - or both; so Merlin hurries to push his point.

"Hear me out, please. Even when we do find an helpful book? The spell we're under must be very powerful - I mean, have you ever heard or thought this could even be possible? - so we might still require magic too in order to perform whatever will be mentioned in the book? So yes, your new abilities are supposed to be our doom; but maybe we can turn them to our advantage? You have MAGIC, Arthur. If you can control it and use it - on your terms? Maybe that's just what we need to solve our problem?"

Merlin waits. And Arthur isn't taking the opportunity to repel his idea. Silence goes on; and still, Arthur isn't refusing. If anything, he looks... thoughtful, even if doubtful. But there's resolve, too; and maybe, even, a spark of hope? So Merlin just takes the final plunge.

"As you said... I might have... some basic notions about it? It's worth a try, Arthur. What do you say?"

Merlin's heart is pounding so hard it's going to break his chest for sure, as they hold gazes for a long time - Merlin silently pleading for Arthur to just trust him. Then Arthur gives him a firm nod.

"I say this is probably folly but we have to try, indeed. So. You train me? And I train you."

Merlin tilts his head, unsure about the second part.

"There are things I want to teach you, Merlin", Arthur explains; pleads even. "In case we stay stuck in each others body no matter what we try; in case your body should- I know it's a lot to ask, especially as I apparently keep making your life a hell just by existing? But will you please let me prepare you to take my place, if necessary?"

Merlin's breath is knocked out of him. Arthur would trust *him* with *Camelot*? But Merlin cannot even contemplate it. Arthur cannot be gone; musn't be gone; will not be gone. Merlin's voice is fierce as it simply refutes the prospect.

"Sire, it won't come to-"

Arthur lays a hand on his shoulder.

"It would mean a lot to me."

And what can Merlin do then, but promise - and mean it:

"Anything, Arthur."

The hand leaves his shoulder, but Arthur's eyes stay fixed on him.

"Thank you, Merlin."

And Merlin takes another oath - this one to himself. They'll work it out. They'll make it work. They will.

.

They both feel guilty for endangering the other more than they are worried about themselves *heavy sigh*

.

X. TRAINING (MERLIN POV)

Gaius is working on finishing Uther's draught when 'Arthur' surprisingly comes in without knocking.

"Sire? Do you need-"

Merlin hasn't prepared a speech on their way (how do you announce this anyway?) So he just blurts it out, as Arthur comes in after him and takes place at his side.

"We need your help, Gaius. Our bodies have been switched. (pointing to himself) Merlin. (pointing to his body) Arthur. We awoke like this this morning."

Gaius looks stunned - of course. Then, for the shortest of times, he looks unconvinced; but this is after all Camelot, where strange things always happen, indeed - and not only Arthur would most probably have better things to do than playing along with Merlin's pranks; but also Merlin wouldn't have the heart to make *such* a prank to start with - not to him. So Gaius looks concerned now, gaze jumping with worry between Merlin and Arthur, holding Merlin's eyes with a question in his eyes - and Merlin knows what's worrying him.

Merlin can only give Gaius though a fragile smile to assure him that he is all right along with an apologetic look in return. He isn't sure Arthur would want anyone else knowing about the magic too, so he will have to wait for a private occasion to explain everything to Gaius. For now, he just sticks to the plan.

"Arthur is expected to train soon, and we thought you could give us a way out of it. No one should be aware that Arthur isn't Arthur until we've fixed this."

Gaius doesn't even hesitate.

"Of course (nodding to Merlin). I'll go and tell you injured your sword arm (nodding to Arthur)."

/

Gaius goes out, mentioning coming back later to make Little Kathleen's balm. Once the door closes, Arthur says he wonders what Merlin has in mind for 'training'. So Merlin decides he should help them both at once.

Merlin looks around for something basic, and his eyes light up when they fall on two bowls - not only basic but also potentially useful, if it works? He sets them on the table in front of Arthur: one stays empty, the other one get filled with water.

"Here. Try to make the water move into the other bowl."

Arthur looks at the bowls, then at Merlin; incredulous.

"I'm not sure- I mean, even if I make this work, how am I supposed to put ourselves back into our bodies that way? How can I perform whatever must be performed if I am out of the performing body?"

"This is just a beginning, Sire. This is just a way to have you... feel your magic? Find it, and use it as you wish, when you wish. But if you need a valid reason, I promise this will be useful too, when you've mastered it."

Arthur seems perplexed. Merlin confides, voice low as if sharing a secret: "We won't have to disturb the fish anymore?"

Arthur is apparently too stressed out to even smile, sadly. But he gives Merlin a satisfied nod. "I'd better start trying then, huh." A helpless sigh follows though. "Any hint about how to feel it to start with? Where to find it?"

Merlin hesitates. Not only because he wonders how much he can tell without Arthur realizing he knows too much, but also because he struggles about how to put into words what he has always simply felt. He has never had to search for it; it had always just been there. But maybe he can describe it by telling what he doesn't feel, since he's in Arthur's body?

"Don't search for 'where'. It's not in one place; it's everywhere. Not only in your body; literally everywhere - earth, air, water, fire. Like a... warm... tingling... flow? When you've found it, try to concentrate on it, focus on it, in order to direct it towards what you want - with your hands, your eyes, your voice; whatever works?"

Arthur's brow has only deepened from the explanation, and Merlin can't help but sigh:

"I'm sorry. It's gibberish. I don't know how to explain-"

"What you can't know", Arthur cuts him with a wave of his hand. "Of course. I have to find it on my own. Thank you for trying, at least?"

And so Arthur goes to sit at the table, facing the two bowls, while Merlin starts on the balm for Little Kathleen's knee (hopefully for the last time, as her recovery seems to be going well, thanksfully) - both to feel useful and to give Arthur some kind of privacy. His moving around though must be disturbing, because Arthur switches place, turning his back to him. But it gives Merlin the freedom to check over his shoulders from time to time without risking to meet Arthur's eyes.

/

This isn't working though, Merlin can tell, by the time he's done preparing Little Kathleen's balm (he waits for Gaius to check if he got all doses and ingredients right though before finishing; he has only done it once) and a sleeping draught (for the guards guarding Kilgharra's tunnel) (Gaius has had him prepare Morgana's draught several times already, and has explained how to up the doses while keeping it safe): Arthur looks nothing but tensed, when he would need to be relaxed in order to feel... Trying too hard is nothing but counterproductive.

That's when Merlin realizes he's been going at it the wrong way. Arthur is not him. Arthur is *Arthur*. And when Arthur is at an impasse and needs a clear head? He trains. Activity helps him focus. Exhaustion helps him forget. To find his inner ground, Arthur must be physically busy; not sitting hunched over a table looking at two bowls.

Merlin eyes again his surroundings: spoons should work. Gaius has them in lots of size, both wood and metal. Merlin bundles them all in his tunic, and calls for Arthur as he passes in front of him.

"Let's try something else. You can work on the water later on."

Arthur's eyes follow him questioningly up the stairs. Merlin sets his collection down, then holds a spoon up.

"Try to stop it from falling to the ground."

Merlin let the spoon fall. It hits the ground, of course; but Arthur surely looks now interested by the new challenge. Merlin smiles, and lets another spoon fall.

After five rounds, Arthur gets up and gathers the spoons before handing them over to a crouching Merlin, instead of having Merlin going down, and up, and down, and up... A few rounds later still, Arthur picks up a spoon he has missed on his way and calls out for Merlin to catch it instead of walking back. Merlin misses it though, and it lands on his arm. And that's when Merlin thinks his new idea can even be perfectioned.

He takes the offending spoon off the ground and holds it at the ready, eyeing Arthur, waiting for him to understand. And Arthur does, of course.

"Merlin? Are you threatening me with a spoon?"

Merlin grins wolfishly. He throws, and Arthur easily dodges, laughing.

"How long have you been waiting for such an opportunity?"

"Forever?" Merlin lies, before throwing another spoon, which Arthur blocks with an upraised arm.

Merlin can't help but scowl: "You're supposed to make the spoon divert its course; not block it or move out of its way."

Arthur has actually the decency to look apologetic: "I know. Sorry. Reflexes." Then he smirks. "But please, indulge yourself and do go on."

And Merlin does. And it's glorious somehow, how they are suddenly both intent and carefree, spoons clattering everywhere on both sides as Arthur now throws the spoons back to Merlin too. Hits land on both sides too, as they both throw quicker and harder.

/

At some point, the door opens and a spoon hits... Gaius.

"Sorry", Merlin lets out, hurrying down to check he hasn't hurt Gaius.

Gaius looks at the both of them with incomprehension, but Arthur explains even before Merlin has even opened his mouth.

"We're actually working on something, Gaius; not destroying your chambers. (the slightest hesitation - but if Gaius is to be their ally then Arthur has decided he should know, well, everything, it seems) I have been jinxed too, on top of the body swap. It appears I have been given... magic; to be my doom - and well... Merlin's body end."

Gaius looks sort of disapprovingly to Merlin at the M word, but his gaze softens somehow, even though it turns outright anxious, as Arthur further explains his theory about their attacker's plan.

"So, now you know it all, Gaius. And we also need your help for something more than giving me an excuse not to train... We need... information. I thought... You and Geoffrey go way back, right? Maybe you could persuade him to lend you a few special books?"

Gaius nods, eyeing Merlin.

"I'll see what I can do."

Arthur nods back.

"In the meanwhile, I have to understand how it works, in order to prevent anyone finding it out until we've found a way to lift the spells?"

"Of course. Just let me take what's necessary and I'll leave you to it."

Merlin then shows Gaius his previous work (safely tucked away in his room after the first round of spoons throwing - and yes, it also gives Merlin the opportunity to silently let Gaius know where his book is hidden, so that he will be able to retrieve it later on and present it to them as coming from Geoffrey or something). Gaius proudly tells he got everything right and gathers it all into a bowl.

"I can finish the balm in the kitchens. I'll be back to bandage your arm though later on, Merlin; our Prince is supposed to be injured, and our King will want to check on his son right when he comes back from today's hunt and hears about it."

/

They start again where they had left, but nothing magical ever happens still, and after some time, Arthur exclaims in annoyance: "Maybe you should use knifes?"

And Merlin understands the logic; but Merlin just... can't. He counters with an idea of his own.

"Maybe I should tie you up on a chair so that you can't dodge them anymore?"

And Arthur gives a shrug... then goes to sit.

Merlin finds some rope and tie Arthur's legs and chest to the chair. He hesitates, then tie only Arthur's left hand behind the chair.

"In case it helps if you aim", he explains.

Then Merlin is facing Arthur again. The spoons hit; one at a time. But Arthur glares at them - never at Merlin; and so Merlin goes on.

And then... (they've been going at it for so long that Merlin has stopped counting rounds) a spoon finally *stops*, mid-air, before simply falling vertically to the ground instead of keeping its course.

Merlin's mouth falls open as Arthur keeps looking at his hand in wonder.

"Did you see-"

"Yes!" Merlin can't help but shout happily.

Arthur meets his eyes, looking even more resolute than before.

"Again."

Arthur doesn't stop lots of spoons (yet, hopefully); but he regularly stops or redirects one.

And then, Arthur looks at his hand, and then at him, both in wonder.

"It *is* warm!"

And that's definitely progress in the right direction, if Arthur has *felt* it.

The look they share is actually hopeful, for the first time since this began.

/

After some time, Merlin decides they should take a pause. Arthur still has to prepare him for tomorrow concil too, right?

So Merlin starts asking about what he should know for the coming concil right while untying Arthur's legs.

"Will was definitely lucky to count you as a friend."

Merlin's eyes jump to Arthur's in surprise; not only from the compliment, but also from the repeat mention of Will. Before today, Arthur had never mentioned Will, since they had left Ealdor.

Arthur doesn't notice. Or - more probably - Arthur notices but goes on anyway; he is nothing but brave after all.

"I never had a friend, but I believe friends are supposed to help each other out, right? And well, you're good at helping out, is all. And I know I have little to no right to talk about him; but I think you should know that I'm grateful, and that he has my respect, Merlin."

Merlin is utterly speechless. Arthur has finally found, it seems, a way to shut him up. And to get him teary-eyed to boot. Merlin lowers his eyes to the ground.

"I believe he was a kind man. I mean- He must have been, of course - I don't see you befriending someone cruel or-... But even taking only my own judgment into account? I suppose he could have probably done more harm than a whirlwind. But he didn't. He wanted to defend, more than to attack; there is nothing malicious in that. It's unfair his kindness caused his end though. Sometimes, maybe, it's necessary to be the first to strike; even if you can never know how actually well-founded that decision then is; and you have to live with it."

Merlin feels guilty, again. And angry. Does Arthur have to remind him that Will's death is his fault? For all his magic? Merlin is indeed nothing but *useless*, indeed. He works on finishing to untie Arthur as quickly as he can.

Arthur must have read the inwards directed angry shake of his head for something else though, as he lets out a somewhat apologizing sigh.

"I realize I'm very biased, Merlin; because if he had used his powers in a harmful way? I would probably have been the first to accuse him of being a monster. (pause) But he hasn't. And I haven't searched for any magical powers - yet here I am."

Another sigh; nothing but helpless this time. So Merlin *has* to look up. He has failed Will. He won't fail again. He won't fail Arthur. Arthur's gaze is lost inward though.

"Sire", Merlin pleads, hunting Arthur's eyes then locking onto them.

Arthur fidgets; Merlin can't help but note the oddity and rarity.

"I just- I realize this is the strangest thought to have while we are yet again under a sorcerer's threat, but... Maybe not everything is always as black or white as I've been told all my life? Maybe not everyone with magic is actually evil? ... Will? Me? ... Again, maybe I'm only very biased. Because who knows then how many might have been wrongly punished- (a heavy sigh; wondering and remorseful this time, as Arthur shakes his head, apparently thinking about his Father's deeds as his own - as he has allowed them to come to pass without opposition for so long...) But I *have* to believe that it's possible to have magic without being corrupted by it. I mean... What if it sticks? Even after..."

"Arthur", Merlin starts again as Arthur's voice falters - even though Merlin still has no exact idea about what he wants to say; at least not in what order. Arthur's genuine regrets and palpable fear are boring a hole right through his heart; just as Arthur's words about Will and about magic (it is a step in the right direction; no matter how small) spread warmth through it too. Merlin's possible soothing or grateful words in return all feel just tangled and messy and worthless and not enough and-

Arthur clears his throat, then softly exhales as he finally looks away: "I don't really know what I'm trying to say, Merlin. Except... I'm glad you're here?"

Maybe Merlin has conveyed what he couldn't put into words through his eyes after all...

/

And then Arthur stands up, and his voice is back to his usual, assured tone.

"Now. One problem at a time, right? About the concil tomorrow..."

And Merlin listens, you bet.

.

So yep, yet another 'I'm glad you're here' (MY HEART). And spoons just had to be involved, ok (I'm weak, blame 5.03)

.

XI. DESTINIES ARE TROUBLESOME THINGS (MERLIN POV)

Merlin can't help but be on his guard. He has no idea, he realizes as he enters Kilgarrah's cave after having successfully put to sleep the guards in front of it (after a shortened dinner with Uther and Morgana), about how the Great Dragon will react to a stranger's presence in his lair.

But Merlin needs some guidance; and so, he calls out to him...

/

"Young warlock, what has happened to you?"

"You know it's me?"

"Of course. Even though I am surprised indeed by your current appearance."

"Arthur and I- Our bodies have been switched."

The Great Dragon straightens up.

"So this is Uther's heir's body?"

"Yes. And I need - we need - help. Do you have any idea about how to reverse such a spell?"

"I do not have such knowledge. I can only tell you what you already know; that there is some very powerful magic at work here. (pause, tilting his head) But maybe you are not supposed to reverse it to start with."

"Excuse me?"

"You are now *literally* two sides of a coin - both at once in the same body. Maybe this was the intent of the prophecy all along."

(helpless, shocked sigh) "No."

Merlin cannot believe his ears. But the idea is not only incongruous; it's also outright enraging, and simply *impossible*.

"No", Merlin repeats, firmly this time; a denial.

"You would throw away the opportunity to fulfill your destiny? You would carelessly discard the chance to bring forth the greatest time for Albion?"

Merlin doesn't even flinch under the Dragon's ire. *Arthur* is his destiny; and only Arthur. Albion's welfare is in Arthur's hands. And Arthur *will* be its greatest King; not Merlin. The notion only makes him sick. It's not even about a possible guilt at cheating Arthur's crown (which he doesn't want to start with). It's simply that Merlin wants - needs, and will not (and never) accept anything less - Arthur to be Arthur, intrinsically. Besides, Merlin knows the burden of pretending already; and he wouldn't wish for anyone, and certainly not for Arthur, to have to shoulder it too. How can Kilgarrah not realise any of it?

"This just cannot be the way. It only feels wrong."

"You should at least think about it, Merlin."

"It is all decided. I cannot and will not abide to the belief that this masquerade could ever be our true fate. And if you don't - can't or won't - help, we'll look for a solution on our own - no matter how long it might take."

They hold each other's gaze; and Merlin won't relent.

"I can only hope you will not come to regret your choice, young warlock", Kilgarrah finally says as he flies away.

/

Merlin is still fuming as he enters Arthur's chambers.

His fingers itch, longing to search through his spells book. He hasn't had yet the opportunity - between being a Prince taking most of his day, and Arthur being at his side when he had been off duty. Unfortunately, it will have to wait until tomorrow - it would look suspicious if he went out in the night.

So. He should rest. After all, a clear mind will be necessary in the morning, both for council and for finding a way to break the spell they're under, right?

Only looking at the bed though makes Merlin's entrails twitch in disgust. This is wrong indeed; and will never feel otherwise. And no matter how comfortable that bed is, Merlin now knows (he might grow understanding of Arthur's lack of will to leave it on some mornings from now on, huh), you bet he will never even contemplate sleeping in it.

Merlin makes his bed for the night on the floor, wondering if Arthur has been able to fall asleep yet.

.

Bear with me. The Dragonlord bond is an intrinsic link between souls, which is why it isn’t affected by the body swap. Whereas magic inhabits everything it’s in, and is therefore by nature anchored in physicallity. It explains too somehow why magic in general can be learned/found, but that the Dragonlord bond can only be inherited. Oh well, it makes sense in my head, at least…

Also :( I’ve really hurt myself with Kilgarrah’s last line :( Because of course Merlin *will* wonder about this, *for centuries*, later on (my heart:(). Anyone willing to hold me while I cry, pretty please?

.

XII. SOMETIMES, YOU PUZZLE ME (ARTHUR POV)

"Sire, you should rest."

"Just a little bit longer, Gaius. Until the candles are out."

"As you wish."

A respectful bow; then Gaius is on his way to Merlin's room, giving Arthur space and quiet - and only when the door closes does Arthur realize that he just kicked an old man out of his own bed?

Well, let it be worth it then, right! Arthur closes his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to connect with the magic inside. He actually feels it, now that he knows what to search for. He has no idea still though about how to have it work, apparently...

He can't help but wonder briefly if Merlin has been able to fall asleep yet, before concentrating again on that damn water...

/

Arthur awakes, wincing, still at the table. Gaius has left bread and jam out for him, and he hastily eats before running out to help Merlin prepare (both physically and mentally) for concil. It is still earlier than he thought it was it seems, luckily. The kitcheners have just begun their work; Gaius does prefer to pick herbs in the early morning indeed. Arthur takes some bread and jam for Merlin, as little else is ready yet, and makes for his chambers.

When he gets in, Merlin is putting his clothes on. He is nearly finished; only the tunic and the coat are still laid out on the already made bed. Arthur approaches to help him with fastening the ties, and so notices the spread-out covers and pillows on the floor behind the bed.

"Merlin? Did you actually sleep on the floor?"

"Well, that bed of yours is way too soft", Merlin retorts (even though Arthur DID see him getting out of said bed just the morning before: it hadn't been too soft apparently, when Merlin hadn't known it was Arthur's, huh...), trying to cover his embarassment before walking out, heading for the stream. And Arthur has no choice but to follow, shaking his head while wondering if there would ever come a day when Merlin would stop astonish him...

/

After having left Merlin at the concil's door, Arthur gets back to his bowls and water.

He has no progress to show though still when Merlin comes in and gives him a very detailed summary of what has been discussed. Arthur is thankful - even though he hasn't doubted Merlin's capacities (Merlin acting like an idiot or being clueless about etiquette doesn't mean Merlin isn't clever, indeed).

Then Merlin takes up the spoons, and helps Arthur train more actively about his magic again. They are both pleased to discover that Arthur is now able to divert about a third of the projectiles.

"Why am I getting better with the spoons and not making any progress with the water?", Arthur wonders aloud.

"I am certain you will figure it out, Sire", Merlin only has time to pledge as Gaius walks in, holding out a book and placing it on the table - which definitely ends the spoons training as Arthur and Merlin come to gather around it.

Gaius and Merlin seem to be waiting for his cue, so Arthur is the one to open the book, feeling both hopeful (this book might contains the answer to their predicament!) and worried (what if this book is simply full of evil?).

Arthur starts to read silently, both cautious about eventual passers-by overhearing and unwilling to invoke any probable further disaster on themselves by reading what could be spells aloud, a finger tracing along the opening line.

"Magic is potential, and possibilities. Its use is a choice, and a responsability", Merlin whispers, echoing what Arthur is reading.

Arthur is stunned, and can't help but blurt out in disbelief, turning his attention on Merlin:

"You know how to read?"

Merlin only shrugs.

"Sure I do. My mother taught me, along with the other kids from Ealdor. You know, the fact that it surprises you that a peasant can read probably says more about Camelot's rampant illiteracy than about me?"

And Arthur can only admit it's true:

"You're right. We should probably ask Geoffrey to organize something about it."

Then Arthur points at the book:

"But of course you may read along; it concerns you too. It might be safer though not to read aloud, you know..." (gesturing around, waving a hand)

"I can do that too", Merlin assures.

So Arthur sits down on the bench, motioning for Merlin to do the same next to him. Gaius sits on the opposite bench - ready to give advice or help if needed; or ensuring they do not damage the book before it gets returned to the vaults?

They read further in silence, two pairs of eyes following the path of Arthur's finger.

Arthur quickly realizes though that the first part of the book focuses on magical creatures, and skips through it - it might be handy, but it's not what they need at the moment (he can't refrain from briefly pausing though passing by the unicorns page)...

Then they reach the spells section, and Arthur turns tense.

And rightly.

When he understands what the first spell is about, he can't help but shout out, pushing the book away:

"This is what Valiant did! How can we trust this book of tricks?" - this is nothing but evil indeed.

.

Of course Merlin just HAD to read that opening line aloud while in Arthur's presence, huh...

.

XIII.  PROGRESS (ALTERNATE MERLIN/ARTHUR POV)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A butterfly, Merlin?"

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

"What's wrong with a butterfly?"

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

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

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

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

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

As he opens the door, Arthur surprises him yet again, talking to his back: "And just so you know, I wouldn't put you in the stocks for sleeping in my bed while you're, well, me. What would the guards think if they saw me sleeping on the ground?"

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Arthur blinks.

Then a loud "Yes" echoes in the room.

.

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

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

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

/

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

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

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

.

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

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

.

XIV. THE SPELL (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur reads the pages Merlin just put under his nose with the utmost attention. A spell to break any spell? That sounds promising indeed!

Arthur can't help but worry though, as he realizes that the primary condition for the spell to work is that the enchanted person(s) has to be truly, entirely, honestly willing to see the spell lifted for it to work (AN: which explains why Merlin cannot use that spell later on whenever Arthur is bewitched by the way...). And it is not about Merlin (positively-glowing-from-hope-right-now Merlin, sleeping-on-the-floor Merlin) Arthur has doubts about; it is about himself.

The truth, Arthur realizes with a shock, is that he likes it now, somehow - having magic!? Since Merlin told he saw it as a tool - not a weapon; and since Arthur has been proven that he could master his new abilities? Arthur has started considering apparently, at the back of his head, how it could turn out handy, how it could turn out good, for his people? What if he could multiply crops on bad years, ensuring no one would starve that winter? What if he could protect the borders, ensuring no one with ill intent could pass? *What if he could*- And that? That is the most dangerous, treacherous thought Arthur could ever have. Not only because it would be ill advised to rely on something that might disappear just as quickly as it has appeared to start with, but because the fact that he feels *tempted* to use it at all might be a signal of its luring, corrupting qualities. Who knows what he might get tempted to use it for, in time? Will there even come a limit? And that is what frightens Arthur the most - to succumb to its call. It would start with a genuine heart, but who could know how so much power might ever alter his first intentions?

So. No; indeed. He mustn't entertain those thoughts. He should use magic to fix their current situation, and he will, simply because it is the only way to fix it to start it; but it would be for the best if it just disappeared along with it the moment their problem is solved. Besides, he owes it to Merlin, right. Because what if the magic stayed in Merlin's body, instead of staying with his mind after they get back into their own bodies anyway? He would never wish to see such a risk, and a burden, on Merlin's shoulders - particularly as he would know he would be responsible for it...

Arthur takes a deep breath, letting go of what could be, to focus on wishing for what must be.

/

The preparations are quite quick - Gaius already has everything they need in stock. It's merely a mix of relaxing herbs, Merlin says as he aligns several pots of herbs in front of Arthur, that Arthur will have to crush into his hands. If anything, it smells nice, Arthur can't help but notice with satisfaction. Somehow, the fact that it isn't nauseous makes it feel not-evil.

The incantation is more tricky. It's about six lines of text Arthur has to memorize and chant; and most of the words Arthur has never heard, so... Again, why can't he simply wish for the spell to disappear - like with the water? Merlin explains that Arthur has to make the words his own while focusing on what he wishes - because it's not only about working his own magic but also about lifting their attacker's magic control on their bodies (even though it's all a bit unclear whether the words of the spell are actually what makes it happens, or if they only help him achieve a certain level of inner focus that makes it happens - but Merlin might not know everything anyway, and whatever the reason, Arthur just HAS to master the incantation then anyway.)

It doesn't seem to work, though. Hours later, and still nothing has changed; no matter how often Arthur has recited the spell nor the amount of herbs he has crushed into his hands. It's not only frustrating and disheartening - it's simply infuriating: Merlin and him were both so hopeful this might be it!

"It will work. *You* will make it work, Sire," Merlin swears, voice steady, clear eyes unwavering, each time Arthur starts again.

Arthur closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries again. He owes it to Merlin's faith in him to keep trying.

/

And then, suddenly, it's done. Arthur has no idea what finally did it but he knows it's done: he hears HIS voice chanting as Merlin gasps. And when Arthur opens his eyes, he sees Merlin, and not his own body. And the crazy thing? For a split second, it feels weird.

"This is real, right?" Arthur can't help but ask, still in disbelief.

"I told you you'll do it," Merlin answers, beaming at him - proud of him, even.

They exchange a winning grin. Then Arthur howls.

/

The surge of victory and relief ends quickly though, replaced by crushing worry.

"Do you feel any different, Merlin?", Arthur has to ask, as he doesn't feel any warm tingling when searching inward. He is relieved to feel free from it; but not if the cost is that Merlin is tied to it now.

Merlin blanches, most probably from realizing the danger he could be in, and doesn't answer right away - which is good, because it means that Merlin is actually doing an internal thorough check; but the silence is simply excruciating.

"Please tell me it's gone," Arthur can't help but whisper, as if speaking the words could make it truth, even knowing he's lost any ability to make it so.

.

XV. TELL ME IT'S GONE (MERLIN POV)

"Do you feel any different, Merlin?"

Merlin had pondered the night before about how things could turn out, after having lifted the spell - if it worked, of course. And he cannot deny that he had thought, if only briefly, about how Arthur might simply come to accept his magic afterwards, as a new part of him; at least, Merlin wouldn't have to hide such an intrinsic part of himself from Arthur anymore, huh. It would have been a lie, too, though - even a greater one than simply keeping the original truth secret; and Merlin had felt guilty for having even ever entertained the wish for the easy way.

But now, Merlin understands that it isn't even an option anyway to start with. Arthur looks definitely worried. And there is no doubt in Merlin's mind about the answer Arthur wishes to hear, even before Arthur actually pleads for it:

"Please tell me it's gone."

The words stab through Merlin like a knife.

Admitting he has (no matter always or still) magic would only create distance between them now. Not even distance because Arthur might grow to mistrust him (you bet Merlin would never give him reasons to to start with); but simply, literally, a physical distance. Arthur would send him away. Arthur would not allow him to stay - not at his service, not in the castle, and not even within the borders of Camelot. Not because he might be a threat; simply because he wouldn't accept Merlin endangering himself - especially as he would feel responsible in the first place for having brought the trouble upon Merlin. In Arthur's eyes, Merlin going along on risky patrols is acceptable because it is, in fact, Merlin's own decision; but Merlin daily having to risk death in his own home for having magic meant to be Arthur's doom wouldn't be something Arthur would simply let be. That much is crystal clear.

And Merlin just doesn't want to, cannot, won't be sent away.

Which means he will have to lie then, anyway. And even worse: Merlin will now NEVER be able to tell the truth; Arthur will never get to know him - at least not fully. There would be no going back. Confessing the truth later on would only put a spotlight on the fact that he lied now...

Merlin though doesn't even hesitate. It's not only that he doesn't want to leave Arthur's side. It's also, simply, that he can't and won't have Arthur worry on his behalf.

"I do feel like myself", Merlin asserts in the most joyful tone he can master while his heart splits in two, answering only the first question because at least then it's *not* a lie - even knowing the words mean the contrary of the truth in Arthur's opinion.

/

For about three weeks, Arthur tests him - tests *it*. Making Merlin fall, throwing things his way - anything to trigger a defensive mechanism reaction. It's lucky Merlin has years of practice about refraining his magical surges, or he probably wouldn't have lasted an hour.

It settles though finally, once Arthur allows himself to believe Merlin is 'his usual self indeed'. The smile on Arthur's face as he speaks those words is both the most heartwarming and the most heartbreaking thing Merlin has ever seen.

.

THE END

.

THANKS AGAIN FOR YOUR AMAZING SUPPORT EVERYONE  :) I HAVE SO MUCH FEEEEEEEEELS FOR/ABOUT THOSE TWO IDIOTS AND I HOPE I MADE THEM JUSTICE...

.

BACKSTORY : WHO THE HELL DID IT ? (I'M SURE YOU ALL WONDER...)

1) I could have gone fluffy (Merlin thought about having Arthur truly knowing him, or understanding what it is to be him, or something, before falling asleep, and his magic interprets it poorly and messes up. BUT Merlin is too attuned to his magic, he deals with it since his birth, that sort of magic blunders clearly belongs in the past...

2) I could have gone naughty (Merlin dreams about Arthur being inside him and him being inside Arthur in a physical way, and his magic interprets it poorly and messes up. But 1) see 1, and 2) Merlin imo just DOESN'T permit himself that sort of thoughts about Arthur. No way. He is so DEVOTED to Arthur, it would feel like disrespect, especially as soon as in S1. (He will long as time goes by for more contact and closeness though - but I think Merlin never permits himself to think further than the fact that he longs; instead of the specifics of what exactly he might long for). Also, to begin with anyway, imo Merlin doesn't permit himself that sort of thoughts about anyone in general too. I think he's honestly cautious about sex, because it includes losing control, which means his magic getting revealed somehow (how do you think Will ever found out, huh? Headcanon time: Will is older and tells him once about masturbating feeling like magic and Merlin tries and makes a butterfly and the next time he sees Will he's like 'wow, you were right, i made a butterfly' and Will is like ? - Either that or, indeed, Merlin saved Will's life...); so it's just a BIG NO, with everyone and all the time. (It also explains in part too imo why he falls for Freya - she knows magic too, therefore not only does she understand him without need for justification and explanation, but also she is a potential mate, physically too - with her, it's safe. And as the prophecy says Arthur *will* be king, as long as Uther lives he should be alright, technically, so Merlin thinks maybe he CAN have it all after all, somehow - go with Freya until the time comes for him to return at Arthur's side...)

SO: IT'S NIMUEH.

The boys got it all wrong. No one is after Arthur, neither his body, neither his mind... It's just Nimueh coming for *Merlin*.

She understood Merlin has magic in 1.03, and decided he must be gone, in order for her to have her revenge on Uther = 1.04

But Merlin survived (as she realizes by 1.09)!

So to be rid of Merlin she switches Merlin and Arthur (=this fic) - that way, Merlin can't use his magic (and Arthur neither, because you don't learn how to deal with magical abilities overnight... normally at least, she has no idea about how powerful Merlin's magic is) - and she sends the Questing Beast (begin of 1.13) after ARTHUR'S BODY (because it is in fact Merlin) (and it's not kiling Arthur, as he can live on in Merlin's body...)

But, when later in 1.13 Merlin comes to her to beg for Arthur's life, she realizes that Merlin is still in fact in his body, which either means that he is too powerful for her to put a spell on him, or powerful enough to have find a way to reverse the spell even without his magic, which can only means that Merlin is Emrys, and she wants to bring him on her side more than kill him, now that she knows of his importance. And as she wasn't as she says supposed to be the one killing Arthur, she agrees to help (but cannot take Merlin's life, knowing he's the almighty Emrys, so takes his mother then Gaius instead as she doesn't really mind who goes anyway...)

SEE? IT MAKES (SOME) SENSE (And gave me the perfect opportunity to use Bradley's idea, because honestly - WHY DIDN'T THEY USE IT IN THE SHOW! I'm not that much into body swap in general, but in this MAGICAL universe to start with, and with those two idiots? It just works. SO, for the last time, everyone, say: THANK YOU BRADLEY :))

(By the way, as we're at it, another headcanon: Merlin grew up in Ealdor, at least for as long as he remembers - right after his birth, Hunith went to live on her own long enough for Merlin to have mastered his skills enough, and came back to Ealdor only when it was safe enough. And last one: it is more guilt than love that drives Uther / Ygraine. The questing beast was supposed to come for him - a price he had been ready to pay to have a legitimate masculine heir. But Ygraine sprung in between or something, saving him and dying. I cannot buy the love of my life thing knowing he cheated on her behind her back; and guilt is enough of a vicious motivator on his own too...)

@clone-number-1

[morgondagar]

13. “I could kiss you right now!” With Merthur!

Thank you! Prompt from [HERE]

Just two boys being incredibly bad with crushes they barely know they have.

They had been stuck up in Arthur’s room for hours and it was long since the darkness fell over Camelot. Pondering over the recent events, Merlin was staring in front of himself, back against his prince’s bed and head slung backwards over the corner of his mattress. 

“Maybe it’s sabotage?” Arthur suggested while making various gestures with his hands. For the past hour, Arthur had been pacing back and forth in his chambers, sighing and moaning about his lost crown. It had gone missing with an excellent timing, the night before a ceremonial dinner with the neighbouring kingdom. 

First, Merlin had been to blame. Of course. When none of them could seem to find the headpiece, a very uncharacteristic panic had swept over Arthur’s face. Nervous habits, such as his quickening pacing and more elaborate gestures, had started to come into play not too long afterwards and right now Merlin was over it, trying to focus all too much on not making any unnecessary remarks. 

“Didn’t Cenred’s men look suspicious? Perhaps they had sent spies. Making the future king look-”

“-like an idiot?” Oh, there it was. the unnecessary remark. 

The pacing stopped and a sharp turn on the heels were heard. Long, snapping footsteps made their way towards Merlin and he closed his eyes, trying to prolong these few moment left on the planet.

Behind his eyelids, thicker darkness fell as the footsteps stopped right in front of his face. He opened his eyes and stared up at Arthur’s ill-composed face and crossed arms.

“I can explain-” He cut himself off, shifting his focus from Arthur to the dresser. Or rather, the shimmer of metal sitting on top of it. Stumbling to his feet, he pushed himself past the blond boy.

“Oh, you are not getting away with that!” Arthur warned with a dangerous tone, but Merlin swiftly ignored the threat to instead reach his way up over the wooden structure. Turning around, he held out his arms triumphantly with the crown in his hands, locking eyes with Arthur, not even bothering to hide his smile.

Arthur, mouth open and eyes wide, was out of words, simply staring at the metallic wonder in his servant’s hands. 

“Oh, Merlin,” He exclaimed, “I could kiss you right now!" 

Merlin’s smile was brilliant and the air was blown out of the prince, all the huffing and puffing over the past hours forgotten. He stepped forward to collect his crown, only for both of them to realise what had been said as their hands touched over the headpiece. 

Immidiately sputtering, Merlin moved backwards slightly. Arthur, attempting to grab the crown as quickly as possible to move away, followed suit. After a few moments of shuffling around, Arthur stood back, crown in hand, looking to the side. He attempted to speak a few times, failing all of them. 

[bellamyblakru]

Hello!! Can I request “I should have been better” for Merthur with Arthur POV and like Merlin being so done with Arthur constantly making fun of him and calling him useless that he actually quits being his manservant and starts ignoring him and being cold to him, and then Arthur really misses him and practically begs him to come back? I wasn’t sure if I just had to post the prompt and the ship or actually add more details so there’s that hahaha I’m sorry, I’ll be happy with whatever I can get

I really like your writing btw ❤️

omg hello! this prompt was perfect, don’t worry!! it was really fun to write🥺 i appreciate you sending one and liking my writing🥺i adore u!! i hope this doesn’t disappoint 💞

✨here it is on ao3 and ill post it here as well✨

Arthur watched over his parchment as Merlin tripped over another pair of his boots that he left on the floor last night and growled out, “Merlin. You are pathetic, why are you even in here? I didn’t call for you, did I?”

He meant for it to come out teasingly, but it fell extremely flat. Arthur was stressed, fed up with his group of elderly councilmen that never agreed with him, and, honestly, he needed to release some of the pent up anger that simmered violently beneath his skin.

So, he didn’t stop the unwanted stream of words that forced their way out, “And while I’m at it, would you please clean this room already? You’ve been stomping around here for hours and have accomplished nothing. I should just fire you, really. What good is a servant who barely does his job? You’re useless, Merlin, truly.”

Arthur scoffed, finishing his rant, his body feeling like it was on fire while still staring blankly at the speech before him, not noticing how still Merlin had gotten. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence where Arthur couldn’t even pretend to read, Arthur looked up at Merlin’s unmoved form. The man was standing completely still, facing Arthur’s door, his shoulders tense.

Arthur saw Merlin’s jaw move from this angle, “What did you say?”

Merlin lifted his chin, sharply spinning on his feet towards Arthur, “I quit.”

No mistaking the words now. Arthur’s mind halted, “What?”

Merlin still did not move from that spot between Arthur’s desk and the door, “I quit, Arthur.”

“Why?” Arthur couldn’t comprehend it. Merlin never gave up on him, even during their darkest hours. Why would he back out now?

Merlin let out a cold laugh, “Why?” he mocked. Arthur saw the lifeless smile grace Merlin’s face. He stared at his servant, never recalling seeing such a look before in the decade he has known him. Merlin was all smiles, laughs, and happiness. This Merlin? This Merlin Arthur had never seen before.

He didn’t like it.

Merlin let out another empty laugh, “Why, asked the king!” Another chuckle, “God, Arthur. I’m done. With you, with Camelot, with everything. It’s not worth it any more.”

Merlin’s smile fell off, and Arthur saw how pale his servant was. Arthur doesn’t think he looked at Merlin in days, or else he would have noticed before now, right? What was happening?  

Arthur leaned back in his chair, and griped the edge of his desk to hide his trembling hands, “Then go. What’s stopping you?”

Merlin’s eyes widened a bit, and Arthur saw how his body trembled from head to toe, and he didn’t know if it was anger or fear making his servant shake—he didn’t want to know.

��Okay,” he heard Merlin mumble, “okay.”

Merlin turned around and walked slowly to the door, and Arthur didn’t think he’d actually go through with it. It was always them against the world. Merlin wouldn’t walk out on them, no matter what.

When Merlin got to the door, his hand hovered over the handle. Arthur let go of his breath that he didn’t know he was holding when Merlin’s hand fell to his side, he wasn’t leaving him. He would never leave me.

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered, still facing the door, “I’m not coming back.”

Arthur’s brain couldn’t understand the words fast enough as he let out a small gasp of surprise when Merlin finally opened the door and raced out, shutting the door behind him with a loud thud.

Merlin had actually done it. He left him.

Arthur stared at the door, expecting Merlin to come back any second. This was a ruse. It must be. Merlin would never leave him.

Arthur let go of his desk when he saw how white his knuckles had gotten. It was late now, and he had an early morning. Shaking off the dreaded feeling filling him up, he stood up on shaky legs.

Merlin would be back in the morning. Every time they had fought before, Merlin always showed up the next day with a sheepish smile and a rare pastry in hand as a “we are idiots and let's move on” olive branch. But this felt different than the others. More...final.

Arthur shook the thought from his head, he was being ridiculous. Merlin always comes back, why would this be any different? Merlin knows how Arthur directs his anger at him sometimes, he must after working for him for ten years, and how Arthur never means what he says. He knew that, Arthur thought repeatedly, stumbling towards his bed.

Arthur sighed, laying down, remembering that he still never finished that speech on his desk and he frowned thinking, not for the first time, how unimportant it was compared to what happened with Merlin.

Arthur was exhausted, physically and, now, mentally as shut his eyes tightly, trying to stop the sound of Merlin’s cold laughter from echoing in his head, the sight of Merlin’s paling skin, and the noise of the door slamming shut in the wake of his dismissal.

Arthur shook his head knowing that tomorrow everything would go back to normal. It must.

—————

Arthur woke up to sunlight streaming into his chambers. He stretched lazily, yawning as he did so. He forced his eyes open, trying to figure out when he finally fell asleep. He felt slightly less sluggish, but his mind was still tired. He blinked at the offending sunlight, which he realized, jolting out of bed, that the sun was almost to it’s apex.

“Merlin,” Arthur grumbled, throwing on some clothes, “the idiot must have overslept. Guard!”

The guard outside his room immediately stepped in, “Yes, Sire?”

“Can you get someone to fetch my useless manservant? I believe he is late and has some explaining to do.”

The guard smiled, “Of course, sire.”

As he backed out the door, Arthur paused in his frantic searching for boots when last night’s conversation hit him again.

I’m not coming back, played in his head, but Arthur chuckled, like Merlin would leave his side from something as simple as a petty fight.

He continued putting on his clothes, and when he was done, he frowned at the closed door. He grabbed the papers for today’s meetings, and he decided that he would pass Merlin’s chambers himself on the way to the throne room.

Walking through his castle, Arthur felt like it was lacking energy today and he couldn’t figure out why. The servants rushed past him, without looking up, as normal, but the air felt thick with something Arthur couldn’t name. His frown deepened when he saw that Gaius’s room was opened already, and he walked right in without knocking.

“Gaius?”

The man in question looked up briefly from his book and looked back down, “Sire.”

Arthur stopped closer to the main table, confused by the man’s uncharacteristic coldness, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably, “Where is my manservant?”

Gaius stopped pretending to read as his eyebrows shot up, making eye contact with Arthur, “Sire, he quit. He told me that he told you.”

Arthur’s breath caught, his nonchalant expression changing to disbelief, “What?”

Gaius’s face portrayed no emotion, “Yes, sire, if that is all?”

Arthur stumbled back, “Oh.”

This wasn’t happening. Arthur turned around quickly, running towards the knights’ chambers, knowing if Merlin wasn’t with him or Gaius, Lancelot or Gwaine would be the next choice.

He knocked on Gwaine’s door first who answered after Arthur’s violent knocking became incessant.

“What?” Gwaine asked groggily, probably exhausted from his night shift.  

“Have you seen Merlin?”

Gwaine immediately straightened up, his eyes narrowing, “No? Why? Did something happen?”

Arthur backed up, “No, don’t worry about it.” And when Gwaine opened his mouth again, Arthur simply turned around and walked to Lance’s room.

The door was ajar, so Arthur lightly pushed it open to find Lance with his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees on his bed.

“Lance?” Arthur whispered, listening to how Gwaine’s footsteps joined behind him.

Lance whipped his head up at the sound, and Arthur saw how red-rimmed his eyes were. Arthur’s breath whooshing out.

Lance got up, anger pouring out of his body in almost tangible waves, and Arthur backed up hastily. Lancelot never lost his cool demeanor.

Arthur hit into Gwaine who grunted and pushed Arthur behind him—placing himself in front of the extremely pissed off Lance.

Gwaine placed a hard hand on Lance’s chest, “Woah woah, steady now. How about we use our big boy words before we start punching princesses, hmm?”

Arthur tried to hide his flinched when Lance looked at Gwaine then back to him with murder in his eyes. Arthur knew only one person who could get Lance this worked up.

Lance roughly said, “Move, Gwaine. I need to punch something and I want it to be Arthur’s face.”

Even Gwaine blinked at the words, taken aback at the fury lacing Lancelot’s every movement.

“Gwaine, it’s okay-“ Arthur didn’t get to finish as Lance pushed Gwaine aside and promptly punched Arthur in the face. Arthur hit the ground, feeling blood coming out of his nose, as he cradled his face. He didn’t flinch as Lance landed another one before Gwaine threw him to the side.

Arthur stared at the ceiling, feeling numb. He deserved that, he mused, and probably deserved more.

Once the ringing stopped, he vaguely listened to Gwaine pushing Lance back.

“Lance, get a hold of yourself! Tell me what happened and I’ll probably join you.”

Lance was panting, his knuckles bloody, as he stopped thrashing against the hold Gwaine had on him, “Arthur, why don’t you explain what happened?”

Arthur ignored him, and Lance let out a dark chuckle, “No? Of course not, staying silent when you need to explain yourself is your strong suit.”

Arthur imperceptibly flinched this time, his numbness not leaving his body as Lancelot’s words felt like another blow to the face.

Gwaine coughed pointedly at Lance’s silent seething, “Alright, can you tell me already?”

Lance cleared his throat and forced his stare at Gwaine, “Arthur was an asshole again, not surprisingly, and Merlin..” Lance’s eyes watered a bit before he visibly shoved it back down, “Merlin had enough. And honestly? So have I.”

Arthur sat up then, his heart pounding, as the words clicked. He was losing his knight as well.

Gwaine sighed, “I knew this day was coming. I’m coming with you. I already had my things packed knowing this was inevitable.”

Arthur choked, “You’re both leaving.”

Gwaine had the decency to look sheepish, “Sorry. Merlin comes first, and well? Whatever you did, you probably wouldn’t want me around after I find out exactly what went down. I can’t imagine it would be pleasant.”

Arthur shut his eyes, rubbing his forehead, “Lance, wait, I’m coming too.”

Gwaine put a hand out when Lance tried to go at him again, “No.”

Lance shoved Gwaine off, “Hurry Gwaine, we are leaving soon.” And with that, Lancelot turned around, shoving his clothes in a pack.

Gwaine grimaced, walking around Arthur and hurrying down the hall back to his room. Arthur didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” he said weakly to Lance’s back, “I didn’t—“

“Yeah,” Lance shoved his boots on, “you never do mean it, do you? Arthur,” here Lance sighed, his anger bleeding out of him, his exhaustion clear to see, “do you know how much Merlin does for you? How much he loves you?”

Arthur blinked again at the unexpected sadness in his words as Lance plowed on, “That man is the most selfless human being I know. And he can take a hit, trust me. He can take a knife in the stomach and barely blink at his own pain if someone else was hurt. I don’t even think you understand what you did.”

Arthur slowly nodded his head no.

Lance slouched onto his bed, staring at his hands, “Arthur. I have never seen the pure hopelessness that drowned in Merlin’s eyes when he came to me last night. He seemed so lost.” Lance shook his head and looked back up at Arthur, “In all the years I’ve known him, he always had purpose. Purpose at your side, always. When he told me what happened, not for the first time this week I might add, the look of devastation on his face, Arthur, I can’t even describe it. And it wasn’t the fact that you yelled at him again, he knows you do that without truly meaning it. You have been misplacing your anger at him the minute you met him. No, what pushed him over the edge was the fact that you did nothing to stop him from leaving. ‘Then go,’ really, Arthur?”

Arthur’s heart was beating unsteadily as he watched Lance wipe a hand down his face. He fucked up, royally.

Arthur’s breathing picked up when the enormity of the situation finally caught up with him. Merlin had left, and it was entirely his fault. He deserved to be alone. He had been horrible to the one person who meant more to him than Camelot, and the only words he had for him was to leave. To leave his side. Arthur put a hand to his ribs, his breaths coming in faster, the space where Merlin should be felt like a void—Merlin was out of reach, no longer his.

Was he ever his?

Lance finished packing and stood up a few moments later. Gwaine arrived right when Lance started walking to the door.

Arthur looked up at his two knights, and even though he knew better, he still felt betrayed by their leaving. But he had no right to keep them here when the one person tethering them to Camelot has gone.

They didn’t look back as they walked out the door and left, and Arthur didn’t move for hours.

—————

Arthur found his way back to his chambers, his hands empty, his heart straining, and his head pounding.

They were all gone.

Lance, Gwaine, Gwen, and Merlin—gone. He found out about Gwen after he entered the throne room later that day and it didn’t surprise him. Her and Merlin were best friends, and her and Lance were practically married—so, no, it wasn’t a surprise. But, it still hurt.

Arthur walked to his window that faced the courtyard, the moon already high in the sky. He made it through an entire day without Merlin and he has never felt more empty in his life. Merlin was the only constant in his life. He was the light that drove away Arthur’s darkness. Merlin’s laughter was sometimes the only thing that kept Arthur going, and now? Now, Arthur had driven him away. Like everyone else in his life.

Sleep didn’t come easily that night.

—————

He woke up late again, he realized, as forced himself to leave the bed. His soul felt like it was cleaved in half. How can anyone go on like that?

He walked slowly to his desk, frowning at the small sigil laying on his papers. He picked it up, flipping it in his hand. His mother’s sigil was his most prized possession, until, that is, Merlin stumbled into his life and forced his way under Arthur’s skin and, most importantly, his heart. He gave it to Merlin when he realized that, of course, figuring that his most prized person should always hold something dear to Arthur.

It felt cold in his hand. There was no note with it, to Arthur’s great displeasure, as he plopped down at his desk. He was an idiot. Last night, he replayed the conversation over and over again. The way Merlin reacted to his words, the jaw clenching, the stiff way he barely held himself, the cold person who replaced his sunny Merlin.

Arthur noticed his shaking again and let go of the sigil. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how he was meant to rule. His rule meant nothing if Merlin wasn’t at his side.

And with that thought, he grabbed the sigil, a small pack, and raced out his chambers.

—————

Arthur ran to the stables, “How long ago did they leave?”

The stableboy blanched at Arthur’s appearance and stuttered out, “A few candle marks ago, sire.”

Arthur nodded, putting his saddle on Llamrei, and hopped on, “If anyone comes looking for me, tell them I’ll be back before nightfall,” and with that, he raced out.

The wind felt sharp against his face as he galloped towards Ealdor, feeling, for the first time in a long time, that he was finally making the right decision.

It didn’t take too long to find them, actually, as they were cleaning up the camp from the night before still about two candle marks away from Camelot. At Arthur’s approach, Gwaine unsheathed his sword and pointed it at him.

“Arthur,” Gwaine said angrily, coming closer, “If you come any closer, I will skewer you. I promise you that.”

Arthur jumped off his mare, his hands raised in surrender, “I just need to talk to him.”

Gwaine growled, walking towards him, when a pale hand grabbed his arm.

“Gwaine, it’s okay,” Arthur heard Merlin’s say, his heart skipping a beat at the sound. He missed that voice with his entire being and it’s barely been two days.

Gwaine scowled, backing down, as Merlin walked gently around him towards Arthur towards the edge of the camp.

Merlin walked past Arthur, who just stared at his servant, to Llamrei. He started petting his mare, who basically purred against Merlin’s ministrations. Arthur wasn’t surprised, she always did prefer Merlin to him.

Merlin looked up at Arthur’s silence, the question in his eyes.

Arthur cleared his throat, “Merlin, I-“

Merlin narrowed his eyes when Arthur couldn’t come up with the words, and he sighed, “Arthur, go home.”

Shaking his head, Merlin went to go around Arthur when Arthur’s hand shot out to stop him. Merlin stared at the hand grabbing him, his body promising violence if Arthur didn’t let him go.

Arthur spun towards him, and he felt tears unwillingly forming in his eyes. He cleared his throat again, “Merlin, I can’t go home. It’s not home anymore.”

Merlin shook off Arthur’s grip, folding his arms over his chest as he stared back at Arthur expressionless, “What?”

Arthur shook his head, angry at himself for being unable to speak how he feels, “It’s not home without you, Merlin.”

Arthur swore he saw Merlin soften a bit at that but then Merlin closed himself off again, scoffing, so Arthur quickly went on, hoping his heart would be able to beat normally after this, “I should have been better. Merlin, you deserve better. And I’m sorry. I should have ran after you, I should never have said for you to leave, because I never want you gone. I fucked up. Big time. I was stressed and angry and you were there and fuck,” Arthur wiped his face, “Merlin. I’m sorry! I was an asshole. I’m constantly an asshole to you, I know, but I’ll be better. I promise. You don’t deserve the way I treat you. You can do so much better than me—Gods, I know you can. But,” Arthur took a deep breath, unable to look at Merlin, “But, I need you. You make me a better person. You give me a purpose. You make me want to live, Merlin, and I need you at my side.”

At the end of his speech, he finally gained courage to look up at Merlin. Merlin was silently crying and Arthur’s heart broke as he whispered, “You aren’t coming home, are you?”

He heard Merlin’s small gasp and Arthur went completely motionless as Merlin flung himself at him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug.

“You’re an idiot, Arthur Pendragon,” Merlin whispered into his neck when Arthur’s shock turned into him squeezing Merlin back, “An idiot who I love, unfortunately.”

Arthur buried his face into Merlin’s neck, “I’m so sorry, Merlin, please come home.”

Merlin pushed back Arthur a bit, so he could see Merlin’s face, as both of Merlin’s hands found themselves on either side of Arthur’s face, “Alright.”

Arthur made a wet choked sound as he smiled for the first time in days, “Yeah?”

Merlin smiled, his tears falling freely as he stared back at Arthur, “Yeah.”

Arthur laughed, pulling Merlin into another hug, “Never again, Merlin, I swear on my crown. I love you.”

Arthur pulled back from Merlin when he heard a cough from next to them.

Lance had one hand on his sword, “Arthur, if you ever hurt Merlin like that again, I will make sure we are long gone by the next morning where you can never find us again. Are we clear?”

Arthur didn’t hesitate, “Yes. I understand,” and Arthur watched as the relief flooded through his knight.

Lance pulled Merlin into a hug and whispered something into his ear, and when they pulled back, Lance smiled at Arthur, “You should thank Gwaine for slowing us down, sire, or we would have been in Ealdor by now.”

Gwaine pouted, “I was doing it on purpose, thank you very much. I knew the princess would come crawling back without his other half.”

Merlin blinked at his friend, then a small smile of disbelief formed on his servant’s face. Arthur tilted his head at the knight, “You knew I would come?”

Gwaine looked at him condescendingly, “Princess, have you met you? You wouldn’t last a day without Merlin. Clearly,” he pointed at the extremely disheveled Arthur, “I was right.”

Arthur looked down at himself and frowned, “You’re right.”

At that, Merlin faced him again with surprise written on his features, “He is?”

Arthur sighed, grabbing Merlin’s hand to intertwine their fingers, “Yes, how many times do I have to say that I am nothing without you at my side. I couldn’t think straight, or eat, or sleep, without knowing you were safe, and that you hated me.” Arthur shivered at the thought, “Merlin, you are my other half. Of course I can barely last a day without you!”

Merlin’s tears were back, to Arthur’s horror who thought he fucked up again, but as Merlin’s lips crashed into his, and with Lance, Gwen, and Gwaine’s clapping and whistling in the background, Arthur finally thought that maybe everything would be alright in the end.