#king Arthur isn’t who you thought it would be because as it turns out

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

It’s about the second sons finishing what the elder sons couldn’t. It’s about the unlikely candidate rising from the uncertainty that comes with a young heir’s death and destruction. And look how that’s reflected with Jon and Bran, two characters who put a spin on king Arthur’s tale. Sure they’re going to be kings, but they weren’t meant to be. Not initially. Their older brothers were. Aegon was meant to be the king, he was meant to be the promised prince. Yet he was cut down before he could even live. Robb was the honorable king, the valiant hero destined to save House Stark. Yet, like Prince Aegon, he was cut down before his prime - a sixteen year old boy. In any other tale, Aegon would live and Robb would win. But not in this one. Aegon died, and Robb died after him. But their legacies and the hope they carried remained, to be picked up by their younger brothers - their unlikely heirs. Aegon can’t be the promised prince because he died, but Jon can. Robb can’t rebuild House Stark, but Bran will. Aegon and Robb were born to be destined for greatness, but Jon and Bran had greatness thrust upon them. And see how they rise to the occasion!

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I wanna write a really mundane magic reveal.

This has definitely been done before (please send fic recs) but I’m procrastinating and really want to write it.

Literally nothing is happening, Arthur is having a bath, Merlin is tidying up in his chambers one night and everything is basically fine.

Arthur asks Merlin how he manages to always get the bath water perfect and Merlin jokingly says “must be magic” while he’s distracted, Arthur stops and starts thinking about all the fallen tree branches, how his armour is perfect and even if Merlin is late, his food is always hot.

So Arthur realises Merlin is a sorcerer, but not a very good one if all he can do is boring stuff with chores. And if he’s not using magic to defeat all the bandits, it must be because he can’t defeat all the bandits. Not that he’s trying not to die or anything. In fact, the thought of killing Merlin, or of Merlin being punished for his magic, never even crosses his mind.

Arthur shrugs, because Merlin made the joke before, it was just his fault for not noticing it, also his father is still king, so it’s probably for the best that Merlin never said anything, and he tells Merlin to be careful about his magic and to only use it if he’s locked the door.

Merlin’s too shocked by the easy acceptance to panic, so he’s just like: “you’re cool with it?”

And Arthur, oblivious but in love, is just like “well, at least you’re good at something.” Because, sure, Merlin isn’t powerful, but he’s not about to piss off the guy who gives him perfect baths. Then he’s like, “maybe figure out how to lie so my father doesn’t find out about you though. We can figure out the ban once I’m king”

I’m picturing this to be in early/mid season two. Morgana never turns evil, Merlin helps her with her magic because I said so.

So Merlin and Arthur have a while for Arthur getting used to Merlin magically lighting fires, sharpening his sword, adding protection charms to his armour, heating his baths, removing stains from his clothes and even putting them back to being like new if they lost buttons or anything.

Then they go to find the dragonlord, Balinor survives also because I said so.

Merlin tells Arthur Balinor is his father in the inn before they meet him. Arthur is a little worried for Merlin, but ultimately happy for his friend.

Then Merlin uses magic infront of Balinor and Arthur after Merlin told Balinor that he’s his son. Balinor shoves Merlin behind him protectively and Arthur is confused, “why would anyone assume he’d hurt Merlin? It’s Merlin. If anything, he’s more useful as a servant and more honest as a friend since he found out about the magic.”

Balinor is floored by it, and starts treating Arthur a lot better. Arthur gets to ask about pre purge stuff, Balinor tells him a bit about his mother from when her parents visited his when they were kids, then about Ygraine visiting the dragons and how she, Balinor and others in court at the time were friends.

They take him to Ealdor after the dragon is defeated/banished and Arthur looks over at Merlin and realises “oh my god, you summoned the wind.”

And Merlin is like, “yeah? No big deal.”

So Arthur is left wondering why Merlin is downplaying what he thinks is the strongest bit of magic he’s ever done. He comes to the conclusion that Merlin is embarrassed that it was a fluke, he tries to reassure Merlin that he can always practice and learn to do stronger magic like that. Merlin is confused because the wind wasn’t strong magic?

Balinor realises what’s happening and decides he wants nothing to do with it so he stays quiet. (He’s already sensed a lot of power from Merlin, so he knows he’s strong.)

Anyway, they keep going to Ealdor. Merlin still hasn’t caught onto the fact that Arthur thinks he’s a weak sorcerer, Arthur hasn’t caught on to Merlin being strong and just thinks he’s a little bit embarrassed about not being that strong of a sorcerer.

Then they get to Ealdor, everything is great for about two days until it starts down-pouring. Enough rain to flood the village and everyone is worried because Cenred or Lot(?)(I don’t remember when Cenred dies in canon) isn’t going to do anything because he just doesn’t care so their fields will flood and they’ll starve and not be able to afford taxes.

Arthur tries to reassure Merlin that it’s okay, but Merlin just hums. He asks Arthur if they can still lie and say they were on a hunting trip if he does something about the rain, Arthur tells him he shouldn’t push himself or anything, but Merlin says he won’t and Arthur trusts him so it’s fine. Merlin then goes outside and casually stops the rain, clearing the clouds and moving the rainwater into the river.

Arthur is shook.

Then he’s got to realise that Merlin is powerful, but again he never lied about it so he can’t really get mad, so he decides it’s better to just be shocked and carry on as usual until he gets used to the idea that Merlin is stronger than he looks.

There’s also a little bit of a bi panic in there somewhere because Arthur definitely has a thing for competency. We all saw his crushes on Gwen, Merlin, Lancelot, Mithian if she wasn’t just the wrong person for him, I’m pretty sure Percival too. There’s definitely others I haven’t noticed or forgot about. You get the idea though.

He sees Merlin being good at Magic and is suddenly very confused by the feelings he’s too emotionally stunted to recognise. Even if it’s just small things, Merlin is good at something and ‘what the hell happened to the bumbling idiot who forgot to hand him his sword the first day? What? Huh?’

Then after he accepts Merlin is really good at magic, he decides: “great! He can train with me now! :D” and he drags Merlin out of Camelot to spar which is basically just Merlin teaching Arthur how to defend himself against magical attacks. Arthur thinks he’s helping Merlin to protect himself because ‘if all he can do is wind that’s hardly an offensive attack so he needs more help mastering that. And considering no one else knows, it’s my responsibility to make sure he’s safe if he ever needs it.’

Merlin is just glad to be accepted and that Arthur is willing to learn how to protect himself against the numerous magical attacks every week so he lets Arthur think whatever he wants about why they’re sparring.

But yeah, there’s minimal trauma, it’s not a big deal and they get the happily ever after they deserved.

[gldnstrngs]

it’s wild to think that the two times arthur gives a ring to gwen in case he dies, he doesn’t actually give it to her himself

in s4 ep 5, he gives ygraine’s ring—his mother’s ring—to merlin, so he could hand it off to gwen. even though it was because gwen hadn’t actually been there, arthur knew what they were getting into before they left for the battle. he had every opportunity to give it to her before that, but instead gave merlin the responsibility with a “tell her i’m sorry”

and then in the series finale, when arthur knows that the chances of him making it are slim, he gives gaius to the royal seal to give to gwen. arthur knew how high stakes the battle against morgana was and gwen had even been there, so he could’ve actually given it to her himself because of that very risk. also, the fact that they never even really got a proper goodbye, despite everything…

then we have the s4 ep1 deleted scene of arthur giving merlin ygraine’s sigil, explicitly telling him to “just… take it.” nothing else was said, but there was nothing else actually needed to be said between the both of them. arthur’s actions said enough, which is not something gwen had the privilege of seeing herself

arthur knew the risks when he was going to confront the dorocha, so he gave merlin his mother’s sigil. but when it came to gwen, he couldn’t be the one to actually give his rings to her

also, the fact that arthur thought that merlin was meant to have his sigil, despite knowing the weight in doing that??? it’s not just a symbol that represents the de bois house, but it’s a seal for royalty, which means he inadvertently made merlin the heir to the throne. and that was before he entertained the idea of giving gwen his rings

that in itself is enough to prove that arthur looked at merlin as something more than just king and manservant or friends. in his mind, merlin and gwen paralleled each other, hence his actions. but it turned out that, in the end, merlin was the only one who really mattered to arthur when his life was at risk. and he actually got to say goodbye to merlin before he died, even telling him thank you—which we all know was coded for “i love you” (platonic or romantic)

and people can argue that because the deleted scene is, in fact, deleted, then that means it wouldn’t actually mean anything. i would argue against that— i think it actually means way more that the scene was not only deleted, but replaced with a more “platonic” feel to it. because the showrunners knew what they were doing

they. knew. i CANNOT emphasize that enough. it’s likely that they came up with the original scene, proceeded to film it, and then decided to cut it out because of The Implications

honestly, this little rant isn’t necessarily me trying to invalidate arwen. i may not ship them, but i definitely do think they deserved better treatment as the main ship (like not having arthur properly say goodbye to gwen was actually Diabolical). i do think arthur loved her, but his love for merlin superseded that and those scenes just seem to prove it😭

[hopelessromantic5]

The tavern scene where Merlin is playing the King at dice and using his magic and it’s really fucking hot.

As Merlin looked around at their accumulating audience, he saw more than a few red cloaks.

So the knights had come to see their king brought to his knees, Merlin thought, chuckling to himself.

“What’s so funny?” Arthur questioned boisterously.

“Nothing, sire.” Merlin singsonged with a smirk that he knew would only frustrate Arthur further. Merlin threw only a momentary glance to The Once and Future King who is soon to lose all of his silver challenging the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth at dice.

Merlin acted as if he were considering his bet, then stacked two piles of silver coins into the bowl.

Of course, Arthur just slung his about like he had no intention of losing it.

Think again, your royal pratship.

Arthur stepped back, next to Percival and Lancelot, to watch Merlin roll.

“Watch out. Here we go.” Though Merlin thought he saw something akin to doubt behind his King’s startlingly blue eyes.

This made Merlin smile like a fool.

The King is nervous to lose, he thought, at least he isn’t a complete moron.

Merlin schooled his face, and began to tumble the dice around in the cup. The sound almost like hooves on compact earth, or dangling talismans hung by Druids, tinkling together in the wind.

Merlin brought his hand holding the cup, up to his lips blowing air into it and letting just a little of his magic slip out.

“Ten.”

And as he knew they would, they dice rolled a perfect ten.

He laughed as irritation settled onto Arthur’s devilishly handsome face.

The king rounded the table, leaning over so his voice was heard only by Merlin’s ears.

“Enjoy this moment, Merlin. While it lasts.”

Merlin didn’t really hear it, though.

The instant that Arthur moved into his personal space, his servant was lost to the world. Distracted by soft lips twisted into a frown, a jawline chiseled from stone, and eyes too beautiful and kind for their own good.

There must be some magic there, Merlin thought. You can’t have eyes like that by the natural grace of the gods.

But if anyone were to be gifted with such a knee buckling appearance, King Arthur of Camelot was the one to deserve it.

Merlin had never seen him being untoward with any female prospects. Never saw him getting handsy with kitchen staff or lady’s maids. Merlin had never seen Arthur approach anyone in that way.

And, though sometimes he stupidly inappropriately wished it, Merlin had never seen Arthur take anyone back to his chambers.

Never once in the three years Merlin had been working for the spoiled prat of a king. Two of those years, Arthur was still a prince. Yet, he held none of the urges that people often berated when they spoke of the young. None that he gave into, anyway.

Merlin never claimed to know the inner workings on his kings mind, especially not in that area. With each passing season Merlin became more confused and less likely to broach the subject.

Not that he minded.

In fact he didn’t mind, at all.

Because there was the rather unfortunate fact that Merlin had been in love with Arthur Pendragon from the moment he laid eyes on him.

Arthur wasn’t drunk. But he had been drinking. Enough to let lingering doubts disappear into the back of his mind.

He thought about this, as he led the way to his chambers, Merlin following dutifully a few steps behind.

Merlin was completely sober.

Arthur knew because he watched Merlin all night, and the man never touched his cup, not once.

Arthur was determined. He was a King. He was supposed to look fear in the face and laugh.

He didn’t know how to handle fear in the form of the beautiful face of his magical manservant.

Merlin thought everything was normal.

Until the door closed behind him.

Arthur walked to the table, dropped his gloves on the surface, then turned to face Merlin with his arms crossed.

Gods, he was fit.

“Did you enjoy stealing all my money?”

Merlin tutted,

“Come now, sire. We both know that wasn’t anywhere near all your money.”

A chuckle left the Kings lips.

“That is not the point, Merlin.”

“And what is the point, sire?” Merlin was goading him and poking his buttons, unassuming of the bombshell that was about to be dropped in his lap.

Arthur was still smiling, but he narrowed his eyes, which put Merlin on alert. Merlin didn’t know this look. And he knew all of them. Well, almost all of them. He’d never seen this look before.

The King began to approach Merlin, slowly.

It didn’t take very long for him to reach his goal.

“The point, Merlin…” Arthur was very close now. His hopeless manservant was losing his breath, unable to look away from his gorgeous, awe-inspiring face. Merlin was boxed in by Arthur’s muscular arms, inches away from him face.

“…is that you cheated.”

Just like that, all the air was sucked out of the room.

Merlin couldn’t move, or speak, or get oxygen to his brain to make it function.

They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity.

Merlin watched as Arthur’s smile spread across his face.

He was…smiling?

Oh thank all the gods in all the heavens, he doesn’t hate me!

This is what Merlin’s inner voice was screaming to imaginary skies, until Arthur spoke again.

Merlin zeroed back in on the King’s eyes, and realized that the blue had been swallowed by black.

“You want to know something?” His voice is low and rough, and he was so close. Incredibly, impossibly close.

Merlin was not computing coherent words at the moment so he nodded, eager to know something. Anything. As long as it came from those lips.

Arthur moved in to hover his mouth just above Merlin’s skin. Right below his ear.

Merlin shivered involuntarily at the proximity, and the tease that The King of Camelot turned out to be.

“I’ve known for years, Merlin.”

Merlin might’ve been shocked, if his shock hasn’t been overrun by the way Arthur whispered his name. Like a siren song, begging him to come closer.

“But the way you looked in that tavern,”

Arthur’s breath kept caressing his skin in lapping waves and it was intoxicating. Merlin’s whole body was filled with want. He could feel it tingle in his fingertips and at the very top of his spine. Deep in his gut, where everything pooled to drag him under.

“I knew I had to have you. I can’t wait any longer.”

Arthur drew back, half lidded, smirking all-knowing.

Merlin didn’t know what he looked like but it must be a sight.

“That is, if you’ll have me.”

Merlin swallowed the past the lump in his throat before speaking, or whispering. Even if every part of him thrummed with this feeling, there was always a chance of everything crumbling. Nothing was certain, until it was.

“I am yours.” He hoped his eyes conveyed everything he ever held in, Arthur could always read his eyes.

[gdn019283]

Could have destiny, and therefore Arthur’s death, really be avoided in Merlin? Or were things supposed to flow like that either way?

The first thought that struck me, as soon as the last episode ended, was the usual “what if?” that keeps this fandom alive, alongside the plethora of theories (that I like looking into and discuss) questions, answers and headcanons.

But no matter how many times I think about it, I personally believe that the answer to the question in the title is simply:

No.

It couldn’t.

The directors, no matter how many choices they made, that we could either think are wrong or not, had also made a wonderful job of deceiving us, but not really, and ending the show with a tragedy and a good fucking plot.

What is the plot, you may ask?

“You don’t choose destiny, destiny chooses you”,

and I think it’s brilliant.

First thing first, destiny:

The directors said: “Fuck it.” They tried everything they could do so that Merlin, at the end of the day, had only one choice. It is really an hard point to make, especially because we like to think that if Merlin had done something differently, things could have actually took another road, and yes, it could have, but it didn’t happen, because we needed an enemy in the show, and it was made on purpose. I like to think that the directors knew it would piss people off. It did. Great job, you guys, I still think about it after fifteen years.

Second thing, who’s the bad guy? (Uther)

What I mean by this, is that I’m asking this question to the main characters who the directors wanted us to believe they were objectively good, right, like Merlin, or Gaius, and even Arthur. How about, no one of them had to be completely good? It hurts less if the characters I just cited acted differently, like we oftentimes say of Merlin, but it’s fiction, and we wouldn’t have Tumblr to discuss it on, if they were all perfect, so why not give them some very bad flows? *cough* All the better if they’re murderers *cough*. Now, if it were reality, I too would have said: “Go to hell”, but it’s BBC Merlin, so let me have some fun.

Morgana is bad, Merlin could be too, Arthur even, also Gwen, Lancelot too, and all the wicked team we’ve got. Oh, especially the toilet they had instead of a king, the one and only Uther Pendragon. I even said that Gaius is bad, and offended Hunith of all people, so let’s get to my point. Merlin could have done things differently? Yes. But Morgana, too. Hell, also Arthur. The point of the TV show is the very, very bad choice Uther made of being a tyrant, so. Merlin could have told Morgana he had magic? Yep, but sometimes I believe Morgana had to be evil, so even if she could have become like that in another way, she made her own choice. She knew Merlin was a good person, who didn’t dislike her because of the magic, and still threatened him throughout all season three, causing chaos and death because she craved power and she was in a privileged position where she could do all these things. We like to blame Merlin and Gaius for how she turned out, but what about Gwen? Poor woman didn’t do anything, as much as breathing too hard near her mistress, and Morgana wanted her dead because she hated the idea that a woman like Gwen, who even if amazing and with so many skills, was just a peasant, and could get on her throne. Morgana made the choice to hate Gwen. Morgana made the choice to try and kill Arthur to take her throne, even when Arthur had no idea of what was happening. Heavy on her throne, because who said it was? By age, status, whatever, Uther appointed Arthur as the heir, and there is no changing that. (so, bad Morgana. See? She had to be, like, it was the director’s job)

“Merlin poisoned her.” He did, and isn’t that magnificent? We can see how it destroys both of them in their own ways. Why did they have to be good characters? Imagine how boring the show would have been, and now I wouldn’t be making a post about it at ten in the evening. Morgana chose Morgause. There is no discussing that. As soon as she saw she could take Arthur’s throne, she started doing the evil smirk every two seconds, accuse Gwen of being a sorceress (shouldn’t she side with her own kind?), killing guards wherever she went, sneaking out with the clip, clap of her boots to make bad things, uh uh, in the woods, uh uh.

Third thing, Merlin tried, poor guy:

No, he is not perfect either, and I love it. He is a man who got appointed with this great job to do the right thing since he was a boy, and what did the lad do? Many wrong things, LMAO. And still, in his perspective, they were right. And we agree on most of them, don’t we? Everything because we’ve got his point of view. It was right for Merlin to try and kill a child, because of a prophecy; it was right to lie to Morgana, because she was upstanding, and he was just a peasant; it was right to free a dragon, and he was simply right on this one (yes, to me, there is no discussing this. I would have freed The Great Dragon too, and I cannot blame him for what he did after); it was right to poison Morgana; it was right for Merlin to follow Arthur everywhere and believe he was a good man despite everything, because the idiots loved one another more than they could hate the system they had been put in (spoiler alert, Arthur too has so many flows). Why listing all these things he thought were right? Because they were right to him, because we know his life, how much he had hurt, and how much death not only he saw, but also inflicted. And Morgana killed so many people too. She, multiple times, committed treason, and Merlin had enough information to know that she agreed to make Camelot sleep. Thinking only of saving Arthur and innocent people, he did what he thought was best (this is the same man who had already saved Morgana after he had already tried to kill her, because he tried with all his might not to be a killer, like he had said to the dragon long before), and poisoned her. Could there be an excuse for Mordred? I believe not, but Merlin believed there was, and that’s enough for him, for the audience, and that’s what makes him such a complicated and beautiful character. Merlin did help Morgana, even if he lied to her, and what if he didn’t? He could have got into so much more trouble, Gaius would have reproached him, Merlin believed neither Arthur or Camelot were ready to accept magic, or him, and Morgana, once finding out about the fact that he was Uther’s daughter, she would have probably still acted the same, because we later see that she didn’t want magic to not be outlawed anymore, but to simply, ehm, kill Arthur and everyone who got in her way.

Fourth thing, the other characters can be bad too:

Even if enchanted, Gwen did betray Arthur. (she is such a good character, and very kind, but I like when even the best ones do something bad). We know she is not guilty, but nobody knew, not even Merlin and Gaius, because they never found out she had been enchanted. And when she was evil, there are still consequences to the deaths she caused. Lancelot, even if a good man, and a good friend to Merlin, left before Gwen could decided if she wanted a relationship with him. Gwaine, who we love and adore, him too a complex character, didn’t think about it twice in kicking Merlin in the dungeons when Gwen, evil and enchanted, had accused him of treason. (yes, she is the queen, but Gwaine doesn’t seem the kind of character who would that, or maybe yes?) What about “you’re the only friend I have” and all that? Arthur still made prejudiced choices even when crowned king, and Merlin supported him, and we know why. Even bloody Sefa, manipulated by her father, decided to commit treason.

My point is, who wouldn’t have loved if things went differently, but at the same time, a TV show that is so perfect, with characters who cannot make a single bad thing, would have been still this enjoyable? Hell, that is the point of fiction, that is the point of writing, of directing. Even when we look at bad choices in a TV series, we try to understand why those things happened, why character A betrayed character B and the dominoes effect their relationship brought.

That’s what makes the TV show better. You can build things off bad things. You can make good fanfictions about what could have gone different. You can make theories debating whatever these choices were simply poorly made by the directors or made on purpose. You can discuss all day the relationships between the characters because they’re flowed, and sometimes even toxic.

That is the best part.

This is not to say that we cannot blame a character’s arc for something that happened, or try to redeem another character, instead, but it’s also good to be able to judge and point and write about it.

Even in this post I made points that I believe should be objective (siding with the oppressor, being an oppressor, not blaming a caged dragon for revenge, ecc.) and yet I still like the characters because I can blame them and talk about them exactly because they’re bad.

Moral of the story. A good story always has an antagonist. We shouldn’t delete that.

(and fuck you, Uther Pendragon)

See? Beautiful.

[effervescentdragon]

WIP WEDNESDAY! On a Friday because time is meaningless, taking the tag from @ayceeofspades bcs I can, and sharing the part of my Jurassic Park AU bcs I'm super proud of this part 🥰 the intended audience for this is Me and I'm using it to get over some shit and my writers' block bcs I need to. Gonna tag @river-ocean just because this is part of what I was telling you about, and leaving the tag open for whoever wants it 🥰

“What the fuck did you do?” he asked in a voice that sounded like a knife cut. “Are you trying to tell me - you actually - what do you mean, you got creative?” Rosberg almost stuttered, his words coming out fast, mixing with each other.

“Please tell me you didn’t,” Hamilton added softly. “Please, tell me you didn’t.”

George looked both baffled and embarrassed.

“What, uh, what do you mean?” George said, straightening himself up. “I assure you -”

“He means, please tell us you didn’t try to play God,” Sebastian said. When Arthur turned to look at him, the man looked furious and scared in the same measure. “Please tell us you did not engineer a new species of dinosaur.”

George cleared his throat. “Well. The corporate thought, and from what I understand, the numbers confirmed it, that Jurassic World was losing its relevance as an attraction. So they -”

“- let their greed influence them,” Sebastian interrupted. Arthur caught some movement through the glass. They were lowering a cow, a live one, into the paddock, probably as bait for this new dinosaur.

Arthur thought Indominus rex was a very cool name. He wasn’t about to share it with anyone, not now, when Vettel and Rosberg both looked outraged and Hamilton looked like he’d seen a ghost. Max and Ricciardo, who were both standing behind them, both had frowns on their faces.

He glanced at Charles, who was looking at the cow, and grimaced. Charles really liked cows. Arthur stepped closer to his brother on instinct.

“I - I would not put it quite like that,” George tried to argue, but Rosberg was having none of it.

“Did none of you learn anything from Jurassic Park?” He scoffed. “Let me guess, you took Marko’s research and completely ignored the consequences of it, consequences we-” he gestured around, “barely fucking lived through and testified against, since you managed to straighten out the genetic code for regular dinosaurs.” His eyes flashed. “Are regular dinosaurs not enough anymore?”

“Corporate thought a new species may up the ‘wow’ factor of the establishment and make us more relevant,” George answered.

“They are fucking dinosaurs,” Sebastian spat. “They are already ‘wow’ enough.”

“They thought it would make more money, more like,” Hamilton scowled. “Cash is king, isn’t it. Just like in Jurassic Park.”

“It took years to iron the knacks in regular dinosaurs’ DNA,” said Rosberg. “How long have you had to mix up this creative solution?”

“And even with regular ones, they are animals born and bred in captivity,” Hamilton continued. “The patterns of their actions are barely quantifiable.”

“What did you even put in the cocktail?” Vettel asked. “Which species have you added, and have you considered all the variations of their instincts and how they may interact with already fragmented dinosaur DNA?”

“Did you consider anything aside from corporate greed and trying to make as much money possible from playing with things that shouldn’t be played with, since you can’t even begin to predict the consequences?” Hamilton’s eyes flashed as he spoke.

“It’s no wonder we weren’t notified of this,” Rosberg snorted. “The ethical considerations alone are a fucking nightmare, but neither the corporate assholes nor you scientists think of ethics much, do you?”

“You only thought of whether or not you could,” Vettel finished in a low voice. “It never occurred to you to think if you should.”

Arthur admired George in that moment, because the man bore the triple attack with only slight rufflement. They are like raptors, Arthur thought, Vettel, Rosberg, and Hamilton. Attacking the prey from all sides, playing off each other, not allowing the prey to catch a moment’s respite. And they aren’t even in a good relationship right now. I would have loved to see them when their attacks were coordinated.

[sexy-sapphic-sorcerer]

for ask game: i didn’t know you were keeping count

ok so I came up with that title on the spot for that post and I don't really like it but anyway. this fic is a rewrite of The Dark Tower where Morgana uses those visions of Arthur and Merlin to manipulate Gwen into believing that Arthur never loved her and is having an affair with Merlin. So that she will come running into Morgana's arms, of course.

What I had written of this WIP was basically just dialogue and lacked mood, so I've hastily added some more description to this excerpt:

“Gwen, it’s me.” It’s Arthur’s voice. At least, it sounds like his voice. Gwen knows better, “no. It’s not you.” “Look at me, I’m here.” Gwen knows he’s not real. She knows. But she is so tired of fighting, running, screaming. She reluctantly looks up. Arthur’s face. Illuminated by a non-existent light source, as though he is light itself. “Did you miss me?” “Of course,” she responds. “How long have you been here? Two, three days?” the figure paces around her. “Have you thought about me at all?” “You know I have,” she says. Arthur laughs, “I know you haven’t.” Gwen doesn’t know how to respond because deep down, he’s right. Arthur, Merlin, Elyan, Camelot – it is all only a distant glimmer. A beacon of hope, but indistinct. Mostly, she has thought of Morgana, the one person she had spent so long trying to forget. “Why should I rescue you?” Arthur crouches before her, interrogating, “it seems we’re better off without each other.” Gwen looks at him hopelessly. “Good riddance,” he sneers. Gwen shakes her head, blinking away the tears. “You’re not real,” she asserts. “I never should have married you,” Arthur shoots upright and turns away, his cape whips her cheek. “I should have let you run off with Lancelot like the common whore that you are!” “Arthur would never say that.” Gwen clings to reality like fingernails on a cliff edge. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You never loved me, you only went along with it because it was too good an opportunity to pass up,” he accuses. “All that money, all that power, how could you resist?” It’s an accusation that Gwen has often directed at herself. Lancelot was better for her, wasn’t he? She loved him, he loved her, they could have been so happy. It was selfish of her to want more. What was she thinking, pursuing the king, the foolish peasant girl that she is. But she does love Arthur. She loves him. “I love you!” she pleads. It’s the only defence she has. “Don’t lie to me, Gwen. I can’t hold it against you. After all, I never loved you either,” his voice is cold, indifferent. “That’s not true.” It can’t be, not after everything they went through to be together. “I only married you because I knew that I needed a queen to bear my heirs, not that you’ve been very useful for that,” Arthur kicks her empty stomach, winding her. “I chose you as my bride because you were the closest to what I really wanted, to who I really wanted,” he smirks. Gwen’s head burns with molten shame, steaming against the chill of the tower. Like a newly smelted sword submerged in cold water, the blade rusting as soon as it’s forged. Another figure emerges from the shadow. “Oh Gwen, did you really think that I encouraged you to be with Arthur out of the goodness of my heart?” Merlin mocks her, as he saunters towards Arthur. “Surely you know how I feel about him.” She did know, of course. It had been clear since they were two lowly servants, two friends, debating the merits of Arthur versus Lancelot. But any fears about Merlin resenting her relationship with Arthur had been quickly dismissed. Gwen truly thought he was a selfless, supportive friend. Idiot. “I wasn’t going to set aside my own desires so easily. Don’t be so naïve,” Merlin laughs, as Arthur wraps around his back. He kisses Merlin’s neck the same way he did hers. “Now I’ve got my king right where I want him,” Merlin taunts, “and gods, how I want him.” He smiles salaciously at Arthur, before sealing their lips in a kiss. “No!” Gwen wants to scream, wants to tear them apart. Instead, she crumples to the ground. Hands over her eyes. She only wishes the obscene wet noises could be drowned out by her sobs.

[witchthewriter]

𝐒𝐢𝐫 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐢𝐮𝐬' 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ    

🌿ISTP 🍁Hufflepuff 📜Lawful Good 🔮Pisces Sun, Libra Moon, Sagittarius Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・First off, you and Merlin are best friends

・Because the majority of Merlin’s time is being Arthur’s servant, Gaius needed someone to shadow him - so there would be another healer in Camelot

・And at first this made Merlin a little uneasy. He felt a bit replaced, but knew Gaius was right. The kingdom needed to come first. 

・It helped a lot that you were pretty cool as well

・Oh, and the fact you’re a witch or sorcerer/sorceress...whichever word you like to use, made the friendship between you and Merlin solidify. You bonded so deeply. 

・You would often help Merlin with whatever free time you had, and sometimes that meant being around the knights

・Sir Percival had a crush on you the very first moment you spoke

・You didn’t look like the everyday villager. People can tell there’s something different about you. 

・You make your own clothes, and often make clothes for Merlin. In return, he does your laundry and your dishes 

・Gaius absolutely adores you. He thinks the world of you. You’re like his own child. Some days he can be very blunt and critical, but he’s only trying to get the best out of you. 

・The day Percival told you his feelings, was when another person vied for your attention. 

・He couldn’t stand to see someone else have you. The thought made him sick. He needed you. 

・Even though Percival thought his love was unrequited, ... he was shocked to hear that you returned the same care. 

・You kept your secret from him. Merlin knew you wanted to tell him, but thought it would be too dangerous. Gaius thought so as well. 

・But then Percival proposed and you didn’t want there to be any secrets between you

・You actually told him. The day before your wedding you told him. You thought he would break things off with you, not want to be with you anymore. 

・But he ... didn’t care. Well, he did care, because he wanted you to be safe at all times. But he wasn’t judgemental. 

・Percival has much more goodness in him than anyone you had ever met

・You cried happy tears that night

・Merlin was over the moon for you

・Gaius was still sceptical (when wasn’t he)

・But you trusted Percival, you trusted him with your life 

・He loves peppering kisses all over your face, making you laugh. 

・And he loves carrying you in his arms

・Your relationship is very physical - a lot of affection is shown

・He’s always excited to see you

・And grows very curious about your witchcraft

・Although he doesn’t understand it most of the time, he just nods his head and smiles

・Respects your tools. Always leaves things as they are, and whenever you need something, he’s more than happy to retrieve it for you

・He does his best to keep your secret, but there are changes in him that the other knights can see. When it comes to ‘laying down the law’ with other druids/witches/sorcerers, Percival is hesitant and lenient. 

・And if any other knight isn’t around, he lets them go and tells them where to find safety

・When he comes home to you, with sadness in his eyes, you know what the King had ordered. 

・Many times he had sobbed into your lap. Because he saw you in all those who had magic. 

・Every time he had to kill, maim or capture, felt like he was doing it to you. Because if anyone found out your secret, that’s exactly what would happen

・You would hold him, and in turn, tears would spill down your cheeks 

・Because you knew how dangerous your life was 

・And you two would get talking. How could you help others? Because you couldn’t let other people endure this. 

・Soon you two would become a safe haven for all those who possessed magic. 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑷𝒆𝒕 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖: My love. It’s simple, and he rarely uses anything else. But that’s because all of his love... you own it. You’re his heart. You’re his world. 

𝑯𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑳𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆: Physical Touch and Acts of Service. Percival loves reaching out and feeling you close to him, especially when he’s sleeping. During the day, he’ll come up behind you and hug you. When you’ve been apart, he’ll jump off his horse and run to you, sweeping you off of your feet. 

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈:

Ho Hey by the Midnite String Quartet

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔:

・Golden Retriever x Black Cat

・Looks Like A Jerk But Has A Heart Of Gold (Percival) x Looks Like They Could Kill You, Can Kill You, But Also Has A Heart Of Gold (You)

・Emotional Support Animal In Human Form (Percival) x Would Do Anything For Those They Love (You)

 𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆:

When Two Of The Kindest People In The Room Are In Love

[mireillemystique]

Argument for Gwynriel & Elucien v.s. Elriel & Vassien

Disclaimer: I’m not overly invested in any of these pairings, and while some of this is evidence from the books, some of this is also what I think would make a better story. There’s going to be arguments for all of these pairings (this is literally just fun for me). Again, I would be fine with any one of these couples being endgame.

Gwynriel:

1. One of my main reasonings for thinking this pairing is a real possibility stems from their names, which I have seen other people post about. I used to love King Arthur, and when Gwyn was introduced, I couldn’t help but notice that Elain and Gwyn are both names in Arthurian legend; two women that have the same love interest, Lancelot. Lancelot marries Elaine, but is truly in love with Gwenhwyfar (aka Gwyn). Lancelot is the right-hand man of King Arthur (like Azriel and Rhysand in this situation, especially with all the High King talk). Now, this isn’t a foolproof connection, considering that Gwyn is not married to Rhysand like Gwenhwyfar was married to King Arthur, and considering that Gwyneth is not the same name as Gwenhwyfar. Also, SJM does just take names from mythology and whatnot, so it could just be a coincidence (after all, Elain was named long before Gwyn probably existed as a thought in SJM’s mind). But, I think it’s worth considering, because the names are so similar. Another creator also noted that Lancelot saved Gwenhwyfar from an evil king, like Az saved Gwyn.

2. Azriel’s bonus chapter does have some scenes that seem like flirting. Gwyn didn’t have to be in that chapter, but she was, and I think it was SJM’s intention to introduce the idea of Gwyn and Azriel, whether or not they’ll end up together. This could be her way of introducing tension, or just adding suspense so that people don’t think automatically that Elain and Azriel end up together. But, it could very well be that SJM was paving the way for Gwynriel. Also, Rhys is clearly against Elriel. While I don’t agree with him doing what he did and think it’s very hypocritical (especially because it actually demeans Lucien’s character to think he would ever be petty about Elain choosing someone else), SJM thinks Rhysand can do no wrong. So, for Elriel to happen, Rhys will have to have been super in the wrong. This could happen, but with SJM, I don’t know that it will. Because SJM loves Rhys too much.

Elucien:

To be honest, I don’t see a great argument for this couple as exists in canon right now. I think that it has so much potential, but the way it’s written right now puts both Elain and Lucien in a shitty situation. If SJM wants Elucien to be endgame, I will never understand why she wrote it the way she did. They both deserve better. Lucien deserves someone who will choose him and want him, BUT it’s not Elain’s fault that she doesn’t want him. I hate this argument that Lucien “deserves” Elain because he deserves a happy ending. He does deserve a happy ending, but so does she. She does not want to be around him, and that’s valid. If some man came up to you on the street, you wouldn’t be obliged to spend time with him.

I see Elucien happening if it turns out that Elain had a vision that she and Lucien being together would bring doom or cause death to them or something of that sort, so she stays away from him. Otherwise, their current situation does not make for good romantic tension, and never will. But that’s just my opinion. I’m not against Elucien, but SJM messed it up for me. Some fic writers have made great Elucien fics though, which restores my hope. And, I think if Gwynriel happens, Elucien will happen, so above evidence ties in with this.

The comment about Elain not looking good in Night Court black does indicate to me that Elain might not stay in the Night Court, meaning she might be with Lucien. I don’t see Az leaving the Night Court. But, not everyone in the NC has to wear black (for example, Mor never does, because she doesn’t like it). So it’s not foolproof evidence.

Elriel:

1. My main argument here is the set-up from ACOMAF through ACOSF. Elriel has romantic foreshadowing, such as in ACOWAR, when Feyre wonders why Elain and Azriel aren’t mates and says they’d be good together. It is interesting that Feyre and Rhys appear to have different opinions on the matter because I didn’t know that was allowed as per SJM’s writing. Az gave her his dagger, which he’s never given to anyone. And, his bonus chapter indicates that they both want each other (and I don’t agree that it’s just sexual, because SJM just writes romances with a lot of sexual tension and smut). If Elriel doesn’t happen, it’s because SJM changed her mind.

2. I think it’s compelling and more meaningful if Elain chooses Azriel over the mating bond. Everyone says “oh Gwyn would choose Az” but Elain can too, and over what’s considered to be the strongest bond there is. That is a much more interesting story to me than the mating bond happening again. Though, it would be interesting if Elriel were secretly mates, which I think is supported by the fact that Az can smell Elain and Lucien’s mating bond. We know that mating bonds can be faked, so it’s not out of the realm of possibility.

3. Elain has unique powers that no one understands, like Azriel. She was able to step out of a shadow when she killed the king, which we’ve only seen Azriel do. That’s significant to me. He’s the only one who really understood her in ACOWAR.

4. Azriel’s mother lives at a place called Rosehall, and Elain grows roses, and Az gives her a rose necklace. Lots of rose connections.

Vassien:

1. Lucien’s first love was Jesminda, a lesser fae who was killed because she wasn’t “good enough” to be with him. Elain is a High Fae with important connections now; she’s what would be considered an appropriate match. Vassa is a human, so not exactly considered an appropriate match either. She’s also described in a fashion similar to Jesminda. This makes me feel like Lucien would want to be with Vassa more and like it would be overall more satisfying for him to end up with someone like Jesminda. I’m not explaining this very well.

2. Lucien seemed upset when mentioning how Vassa and Jurian got along, hinting at perhaps jealousy. Vassa and him have had more time to make a connection and probably get along better. To be honest, we haven’t seen enough of their interactions for me to really know, but I think that Elriel and Vassien are much better and more unique pairings than Elucien and Gwynriel, because neither rely on the mating bond and Vassa and Lucien are a human and a Fae, which is a different dynamic from Feysand and Nessian (yes I know Feyre and Nesta were humans but they’re not anymore).

3. They’re both gingers.

Side Note: the threesome scene that didn’t happen counts against Elriel. If Nesta slept with Az, then Elriel would be weird. But, she removed it from the book, so I can’t use it as conclusive evidence against Elriel. Maybe it was because she realized how weird it would be. This actually also applies to Gwynriel, because Gwyn and Nesta are friends. So, the threesome scene isn’t evidence one way or another, since it really probably should have never been written.

I’m sure there are more reasons and posts with better evidence to prove each of these individual pairings, but these are just my thoughts. I used to be certain of Elriel, but every day Gwynriel seems likelier. Again, if Gwynriel happens, it’s only because SJM changed her mind. It’s hard to say who will be together in the end because SJM is known for retconning. I might add to this if I see/remember anything else.

[dylsstuff]

Meeting Him Twice

Word count: 4,760

This is a commission for my best friend, they came to me with the trope; a time traveller and an immortal keep meeting, immortal catches the time Traveller up on what they missed. (I will forever love sandman for giving us this trope)

But they wanted the history Merlin catches the doctor up with weird historical events! I only have one in here but they loved it and gave me permission to post!

Ao3

-------

Merlin woke up today thinking it would be a simple one, a day where absolutely nothing weird happens. Merlin was also an idiot and there was absolutely something weird happening in Camelot because of course it was. 

He’d started his day as he usually would, getting breakfast for his royal arse. Which was the easy bit, the harder part was waking him up to do his duties but when Knights came knocking at the door frantically saying that there has been word of some form of a beast in the outer villages terrorising his people then you bet your cotton socks the King will practically leap out of his bed to make merlin put his clothes on. In all his bravery you’d think he’d want to get dressed himself to save his people but alas if it was one more job he could give Merlin he’d do it, you could always count on that.

Next thing he knew they were on horses racing their way to the outer villages to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. 

On the way there he was sure he heard some form of weird groaning sound. It was peculiar and nothing like he'd ever heard before. Strange..  very strange. 

"Stop being a girl, Merlin." He heard Arthur say pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Did you not hear that?" 

"What?"

"Never mind." He shook his head. "Must be hearing things."

Arthur shrugged and kept looking ahead as the village came into sight.

Of course, when they got out there the village was in shambles. Roofs were burnt and injured people on every road, Gauis was sent for but for now, Merlin was instructed to help any way he could. At this point, he knew quite a lot and was able to help more than he could 3 or 4 years ago. 

When he was finishing up treating an older man's wounds he had gotten from whatever had attacked his village he heard footsteps coming from behind him. 

"Excuse me!" 

Turning he saw a man with silly-looking clothes coming straight towards him, hands clasped as he smiled, Merlin returned the smile despite thinking he was odd.

"Can I ask you a question?" The man asked, looking between him and the man he had just finished helping. 

“Of course, what is it that you’re wanting to know, my friend?” He smiled, wiping his hand on a cloth he had. 

“Where am I?” 

Odd question, it took Merlin a moment to realise he was being serious. Well.. this isn’t as odd as his average day honestly. People can get lost in these woods, hell he’s done it a few times, who is he to judge?

“Well, you’re in the outskirts of Camelot.” He answers, “where have you travelled from?”

The stranger opens his clasped hands, “ohhh Camelot! Haven’t travelled ‘ere before but always wanted to! Lotsa legends!”

“I wish you had found it in better circumstances, we’re having a bit of trouble at the minute,” Merlin admitted. 

The man scrunched his face up, “trouble? What kind of trouble?” 

“Ah we’re not sure we think some form of.. *magic* creature has been attacking the village people,” his voice was hushed when he said the word magic.

The man's face didn’t seem to change from the scrunched expression as if he didn’t believe him. 

“The king is here to investigate himself, it usually is something along those lines.” The man seemed to perk up a little bit at that. 

“King Arthur?” He said, it seemed there was an excited gleam in his eyes and Merlin nodded. “Oh blimey! Always wanted to meet the greatest king to ever live!” Merlin tilted his head a bit confused at the wording. How could this stranger know such a thing? How could he know about Arthur's destiny? Also, why is he referring to it like it had already happened? He had a lot of questions about the odd man but he couldn’t ask any of them in time before he heard Arthur shout his name from halfway across the village.

“MERLIN” 

He sighed at the interruption, “well that’s my cue, it was nice meeting you, uh-”

“Call me The Doctor.” The man- The Doctor answers with a smile.

“Doctor,” Merlin repeated, he would say it was a strange name to go by but Merlin had met many people who just went by the name of their profession rather than telling them their actual name. Probably to let people know they’d be happy to help them if needed. Though Merlin would not go around calling himself Wizard or Sorcerer. He was about to say something else but again was interrupted by another shout, more impatient this time.

“I really have to go, I hope you enjoy your stay here!” He said out of habit as he waved running off in the direction of his King's voice. 

A little while after they were in the middle of the woods, a few feet from where the village is, facing the creature dead on. Arthur had his sword raised pointing it at the red beast who looked like nothing Merlin had ever seen before. Even Gaius hadn’t had anything in his books or any ideas on who Merlin could visit to ask how to stop it. It was rare that Gaius had nothing to contribute that would help Merlin help Arthur believe he did all the work.

Just as Arthur went to swing his sword the creature's tail swung and hit Arthur in the stomach, knocking him into a tree which then knocked him out. Typical. Absolutely typical. Not that he should have expected anything more than Arthur, the greatest king to ever live, the king to unite all of Albion being knocked out yet again by something throwing him or launching him at a tree. 

He didn’t have much time to be annoyed before the creature had locked on to him. On instinct he raised his hand, eyes glowing gold and the creature went launching itself giving Merlin more time to think of what to do. While he still was lost for an idea but he couldn't keep throwing four-legged red reptiles into trees, Arthur was an oaf and an oaf that would wake up eventually and see his magic. Then what would he do? Get executed? He’d rather not risk it. So he had to think of something and fast before that happened. Then all of a sudden the creature got caught in a trap, falling from the tree above and onto the creature, it looked odd though. Where the brown ropes should be it was blue and not rope at all, he didn’t know the word, it could have been magic in all honesty with all the blue almost lightning coming from it. His gut told him it wasn’t, he would have been able to feel the magic, and it wasn’t any kind of sorcery.

Then he heard victory shouting, and a blur running out from behind the trees. When it came into view it was the strange man from earlier.

“Now that’s what I call a trap!” He said, not paying any mind to Merlin as he looked over the creature, “don’t suppose you get this a lot but can I just say you are magnificent.” He said with a wide grin, “sorry about the trap ol’ girl, it’s the only way I could get you to listen without having me for breakfast. I know I look scrumptious but I am all bones and chin. My chin could scratch up all your throat, and then where would you be? A sore throat and no way home.” The creature made a noise in response, supposedly agreeing with him. “Exactly! Now, what do you say I get you home? Just need my ship and I can get you safely back, ey? How does that sound?” He hummed stroking her snout as best he could with the trap, “Next question is how did you get here..?”  

That’s when what Merlin assumed was a squirrel ran behind him, causing the leaves to rustle which alerted The Doctor and he turned to look in his direction. He thought he’d be mad but he just gave a cheeky grin.

“Ahh yes! I almost forgot you were ‘ere, too busy coddling over this one,” He used a thumb to gesture over his shoulder as he stood and faced Merlin, giving the creature one last look of fondness. “Loved the trick you did with the flying thing. Wasn’t the nicest thing to do, she’s gonna hold a grudge against you but yowza it was cool- Sorry.” He said turning quickly hands up and flapping about as he apologised to the creature. “I mean really, how did you do it? Was there a rope or something involved?”

“You… aren’t from around here are you Doctor?” Is all he could muster.

“Well spotted! No wonder you’re his adviser! Very clever, you are! What makes you say so?” He clapped his hands together again. Does he do that often?

“Well.. you uh, know what this creature is, used a weird trap to capture it and talk to her like you can understand what she’s saying, you have strange clothes, and you use strange words that I have never even heard of. It seems like you use sorcery but it does not seem like that’s what it is.” He said, voice unsure. “What are you?”

“I’m The Doctor, what are you?”

“I know who you are, I asked what you are,” Merlin repeated. 

“An alien, your turn beardy.” The Doctor says before his eyebrows shot up as if he was having a moment of realisation, he reached up a hand to gesture a beard on himself then his hands shot up in excitement, "no- yes- hang on- you don't have a beard- you're not an old wizard- you're young, I mean look at you looking after a young king Arthur- this is not how you’re depicted. You’re a story! A fairytale! No- no- a Legend! That.. is.. impressive, and that’s coming from me, the oldest thing on this planet other than trees but I mean you're young, it's said you have magic but is it some form of software- why are you on this planet in the first place. Are you an alien? Another Auton duplicate? No scrap that, that would be completely rubbish. Bonkers Doctor. You can’t be anything of the sort, I scanned you when we met you’re human-" Merlin cut him off. 

"I don't know what you're on about, Doctor whoever you are. I'm just.. Merlin. What do you mean, 'not how I'm depicted?" 

"Ah- shouldn't have said that-" He was cut off again, this time by the creature making what Merlin thought was an impatient grunt. "Right, yes- almost forgot, I have to go get a blue box hidden behind a tree give me just a moment." And with that he was off again, leaving Merlin and the creature alone. He gave it a little wave and it just grumbled. 

"Sorry about the throwing you thing." He said earning another grunt from the creature, this time it seemed like reluctant forgiveness. 

Then suddenly he heard the strange noises he thought he heard earlier.. and then as the weird man said a blue box appeared on top of the creature. It was like it just faded into existence and the creature faded out of it. 

'Police..?' Merlin thought, reading the exterior of the box. 

That's when the door opened and The Doctor was standing in its doorway. 

"You do have sorcery?!" The young wizard asked, confused, he was certain that this was not sorcery; he would have felt it in the ground, heard it in the trees. This was foreign, something he’s never felt before. All he knew was it gave a feeling of being alive.

"No- well I guess that's what it probably looks like, I forget which time period knows what or another believe in. It all gets jumbled up, all wibbly wobbly I suppose."

"Who.. are you?" He couldn't help but ask again, bewildered by the man's words and magic… box.

"I told you, I'm The Doctor, Merlin."

"But what does that mean?" 

"I don't have time to explain anything now. I have a red beastie to return to her world. I can't promise you'll see me again but keep an eye out, ey?" The Doctor had a large grin on his face, gave a thumbs up and promptly shut the door behind him

Just as it had appeared the box disappeared again with the same groaning noise and of course this was when his royal arse decided to come to. He sighed, preparing himself to give a long explanation of how Arthur defeated it.

The next time he would meet The Doctor was centuries after Camelot and Albion were forgotten. England left in its place. A mere legend told to children as a story passed on from generation to generation, started by the man himself as he travelled from place to place, meeting new people and then their ancestors, seeing their resemblance. He told the story of King Arthur, the greatest king to ever live, his Knights of the round table, his love for Gwen, his horrid father and loving heartbroken sister who felt she had no choice but to succumb to the evil magic, the betrayal of Mordred and his loyal Sorcerer Merlin. He never missed a detail, maybe he exaggerated bits but he never lied about that time. Then he watched his story evolve around him, turning him into an old man, the court Sorcerer. 

It was nice seeing the world and people evolve around him, but it was also heartbreaking seeing people die over and over again. He was stagnant whilst the world was always moving around him. People blew away like sand and he was the storm come to disturb the peace creating sandstorms and tidal waves. He tried not to get involved for the most part but there were some cases where he just couldn’t help himself. In doing so he left his mark on the lives of everyone he would meet and they would remember him in legend. 

If Arthur could see him now he’d wonder what on earth they were talking about, how he was just an idiot. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to just be called an idiot by his Arthur again.

Yet here he was coming back to the same lakeside, waiting for the king to one day return. He’d been disheartened a few times and started to lose hope as to whether Arthur would come back, but he got out of his sulk every time, being reminded that he will one day return. 

He’d been walking through the streets of Elizabethan London when he heard a commotion coming from down one of the alleys, instinct said to chase it but his head said the smart thing to do was to keep his head down. Of course, Merlin being Merlin he ran after the noise, bumping into someone as he turned a corner. He heard a grunt as they bumped heads. 

“I’m so very sorry-” He started as he rubbed his forehead, looking at his victim and his eyes widened. “Doctor? What are you doing here?” The same man, in the same ridiculous clothes, bow tie and suspenders stood in front of him rubbing his head all the same. He looked like he hadn't aged a day, though he shouldn't be one to judge neither did he. 

“Merlin! Oh hello! I didn’t expect to see you here! How are you here? Never mind I’ll get back to that-Usually do- I really must dash.” Then he was off again, as quick as he arrived. 

Merlin sighed to himself, then realised The Doctor must have been running to the same sounds of screams that he was and then after a quick internal debate he ran after him. 

“Doctor!” 

Next thing he knew he was running with The Doctor, and then he was sitting in a bar with him talking, catching up.

“And you’ve been protecting him all this time? Blimey, I knew someone who waited 2 thousand years for his wife, well fiance at that point, and he was a centurion, and she was in a box and the world was ending. Well a whole different reality actually- but that doesn't even amount to how long you've been waiting." 

"I don't like to compare pain Doctor." Merlin shook his head and then smiled. "It'll be worth it when I see his stupid face again. I forget that sometimes and then something as silly as drumsticks remind me of him. I miss him every day but he is prophesied to return when Albion needs him most. You would have thought the black death would have stirred him but never mind that I suppose, he always was fashionably late." He gave a laugh, looking to see The Doctor staring at him with big sad eyes. "What?" 

"I knew you were remarkable when I met you all those years ago. How old are you now?" He asked. 

"Goodness, I haven't thought about that question in a long time. Over about six thousand years old now I'd reckon." 

"Bloomin' heck you're older than me." The Doctor let out a hearty laugh. 

"No matter how old I get I will always feel like that same boy who walked into Camelot all those years ago. I have had to use ageing spells so people couldn't tell I wasn't ageing though."

"Oh! Still got the magic then? Have you been magicing people? What’s that like?"

 

Merlin let out a laugh and shook his head. 

“I haven’t used it on anyone in a long time. It’s mainly just to disguise myself these days. It feels like a relief when I do, I have pent up energy that builds up when I haven’t used magic in a while. It sort of gets grumpy with me and doesn’t work right and plays up.” It was frustrating when it happened but he understood how his magic would feel betrayed.

“Sounds like the TARDIS, moody one she is. Couldn’t get anywhere without her though, well.. literally.” He says raising his invisible eyebrows and pulling a face like he shouldn’t have called the TARDIS, whatever that was, moody. It was much like the face he had pulled all those years ago. When he had slipped up that he’d be a legend one day, he didn’t think much of it until he had lived and heard the legends spoken by other people. 

“Is she how you knew I’d be just a myth one day?” He asked inquisitively. 

“She is.. How are you finding all of this then? Being a legend.” He gave a profound smile. 

“When I stop to think about it it’s strange to say the least, I never thought that people would one day actually know i was a wizard. I thought life would just go on and no one would remember me. Of course I knew they’d remember Arthur, he was the greatest king to ever live and with all these people passing down his stories from generation to generation is astonishing. However they just think I'm some dodgery old man that helped guide him.” He let out a small laugh as tears threatened to well up in his eyes. “I watched everyone I loved die… but their stories are still told years after their death and I think that’s what keeps me from going mad. Hearing kids talk about them, playing games in the streets. It’s nice not to forget and I don't think I'd ever wish to.”

The Doctor gave an understanding nod. 

“How has watching the world change around you been?” 

“Well it’s been eventful, but you probably know that already.”

“Oh trust me things haven’t gotten nearly as eventful as they will be yet.” 

“Really? Because i lived through the dancing plague recently in France and let me tell you that was eventful. People danced for weeks! No music, just sickness and dancing, I was one of the physicians that had to help through that. It wasn’t easy but it was over in a couple of months, which felt longer than it was.” 

“Oh I heard all about that, what were your theories?” The Doctor folded his arms, smiling intently as he listened. 

“Well.. uh- i first thought it was magic but magic hasn’t been performed by anyone since my time. There have been some, not many but they all died out years and years ago.” He said scratching the back of his neck as he continued, “but it didn’t feel like magic in the slightest. I was born with magic, it is everything I am and everything I'll be, it is my very soul, I know what it feels like when it’s around me.” He explains, “I was trained to be a physician, so medicine and diseases are also something I’ve dealt with and can identify. I remember thinking it was peculiar, I thought it could have been some sort of poisoning from their food but it was a mass event so I'm not so sure. I checked the food myself and they were fine." 

The Doctor smiled, impressed. Merlin also smiled while talking. He hadn't had someone to listen like this to his medical theories and magic in years and years. It was nice to say the least. 

"It was stress induced mass hysteria, weird ol thing it was. Never was there myself though I do love a good dance.” The Doctor said moving his arms in a way that could have been a dance if it didn’t look so weird.

“Can I ask you a question?" The Doctor nodded in response, urging him to go on. "How is it that you're here, looking not a day older than when I saw you the first time?" 

The Doctor seemed to hesitate before answering. "I travel through time, to different worlds than this one." He said leaving forward on the table with a knowing smile. "You could.. Come with me?" 

Merlin was taken aback by this, travelling in time? Surely that wasn't possible. Though for some reason he felt like he could trust The Doctor, that he was in fact telling the truth. He could see Arthur again? But what would happen if he saw his younger self as well? It's not as if he could put on a disguise that he's younger self wouldn't know about. He wouldn't want to leave Arthur alone if he were to rise again… 

"I don't think I could. I don't want to leave Arthur, he needs me."

The Doctor nodded in understanding leaning back in his seat. "Of course, it was silly of me to suggest that. Though could I show you something?" 

He furrowed his brow, confused as to what The Doctor was wanting to show him but he nodded regardless. 

They were back in front of his tardis, it still looked like the exact same blue box that he saw disappeared and appeared all those years ago.

“You’re wanting to show me your disappearing tardis again?” 

“Oi, don't say that like you're not impressed,” He adjusts his tie with a frown, “But i want to show you something inside.” He says giving him a smile as he opens the door, showing Merlin the interior of his ship. 

Blinking, Merlin stepped forward unsure, he could see a whole room inside but crammed into a box. It was most unusual, though he wouldn’t expect any less from The Doctor. He looked at him again, The Doctor just nodded with his arms crossed giving him the go ahead to enter. Stepping inside was surreal, he could feel she was alive immediately, humming as he continued walking towards what seemed to be how he controlled her. 'How could there be more rooms in here…' he thought, spotting the steps and other doorways seemingly going off to a corridor. Everywhere he looked was even more magnificent than the last that he didn't actually know where to look. So much was happening in one room. This was a different kind of alive he thought as he slowly raised a hand to the side of the round thing in the centre, feeling an almost hum come from her. 

"She's wonderful Doctor." He said looking at The Doctor who was still in the doorway letting him have his reaction. 

"You didn't notice it." He said pointing to the doorway and then back inside the room. 

"Didn't notice what?" 

"Well people who come in here always point out that it's bigger on the inside! You-" He pointed at him, "just came in here and completely ignored the obvious." He stated, a smile spreading across his face. "You are quite special aren't you Merlin. Right-" Suddenly he was on the move, hands clapping together and he started whizzing around the centre of the room, pulling levers and pushing buttons, turning wheels. The whole room shook and Merlin went flying into the railing and he let out a grunt as his back hit it. It was almost like an earthquake and that noise, the same noise he heard all those years ago, he heard it again but it was so much louder. 

Then it stopped. 

He was on the ground, arm in the air as his hand had been clinging on. It was silent other than the low hum of the engines. 

“What on earth was that?” He asked out of breath and laughed. It was surreal. Hilarious even. He could have been inside an earthquake for all he knew. If this was how all modes of transport were where The Doctor is from then he can't wait for the future to come. 

He looked at The Doctor who was already at the doors, smiling at Merlin. 

"Come on, slowpoke, you're not grey yet." He laughed. 

Merlin got up from where he had been on the tardis floor, almost tripping over as he moved over to The Doctor in an excited hurry. 

"Ready?" 

Merlin nodded despite being a bit terrified. He had no idea what was going to be on the other side of those doors but whatever it was The Doctor was excited. 

His mouth hung open as The Doctor opened the door. It revealed the earth and the dark of night around them. It was beautiful. In all his time on his planet looking up at the stars he never thought he'd be up here on the other side. 

It all looked so big and for once he felt so small in the universe. He used to having this big destiny, all this power but… in comparison to all of this? He was just a little speck on a planet somewhere not all that important. 

"He'll come back one day Merlin I promise." It brought him out of his thought process. 

"I wanted to show you that there's so many possibilities, and so so much to come. You guys are progressing, slowly right now granted but don't let that waver your faith, one day you'll be out here yourselves and that will be something. The universe isn't ready for you humans. There's going to be a time the world needs Arthur again and let me tell you, he'll rejoin you and it'll be like not a day went by since you started waiting. It'll be worth the wait I promise." The Doctor says in clear earnest. 

 Merlin let out the breath he didn't know he was holding and laughed a sad chuckle, a tear rolling down his face. 

"Thank you, Doctor. It really is beautiful." He says, looking back towards the earth below. It would be a joy if Arthur got to see this one day. He'd love to be the one to show him though he didn't know whether he was to return soon or much much later in his time on earth. 

They just stared out into the stars until Merlin was ready to go back home. Their goodbye was not as hurried as the last time they met each other but this time they ended their time together with a hug and a smile. The Doctor told him to keep himself out of trouble like that was ever going to happen. So they laughed and waved each other off. Merlin watched as the TARDIS disappeared once again and he wondered if he would one day cross paths with The Doctor again but that remains to be seen. 

"Till the next time, Doctor."

[adultswim2021]

Robot Chicken #60: “Chirlaxx” | October 5, 2008 - 11:30PM | S03E20

The last Robot Chicken for a little while, isn’t that nice. A show I never thought I’d watch, and here I am three seasons deep.

This one starts with a fake Japanese ad staring Sarah Michelle Geller for Yeast-B-Gone. A lampoon of the real-life phenomenon of western celebrities who normally wouldn’t lower themselves to appear in commercials do so in other countries. Before the internet, their secret was largely safe. It’s probably still a thing, but the expectation of secrecy is not.

Fun fact: I can literally not think about Sarah Michelle Gellar without thinking about this one kid I went to school with who would ask me to lend him some magazine I kept in my backpack because it had a Buffy ad on the back, and he’d performatively gaze at it while muttering things like “oh my god she’s so hot”. Not-so-fun fact: that guy joined the military and was captured by terrorists and beheaded. 

The next sketch is a Bush sketch. He receives his personalized comic book about himself, and then spurs into action as an apparently real-life superhero called Captain Texas. He thwarts a terrorist plot by hijacking their missiles and using them to nuke the Middle East, China, and the sun (as a way to stop global warming). Fairly dumb stuff, but I liked the punchline where they revealed it actually was in his comic book. When he repeats his imagined alter-ego’s exit by ripping of his suit and jumping out the window he only accomplishes making himself nude and likely seriously injured/dead. I didn’t laugh, but I smiled.

A celebrity Double Dare sketch is next. I actually listened to some of the audio commentary to find out if Marc Summers turned this down or what, because they don’t really use his likeness or identify him by name in the sketch. That’s because one team is Daredevil and Stevie Wonder, and the other is Marlee Matlin and Hellen Keller, and–wouldn’t you know it?–all the jokes are about their various disabilities. The jokes aren’t terrible (I mean–YES THEY ARE HOW DARE THEY), but this whole thing reminds me of something I would’ve written in 9th grade too much for me to give it any kind of credit. 

Sir Mixalot appears in Camelot (huh I wonder how they connected those two concepts?) and sings a song while converting King Arthur’s rectangular table to a round one. There’s a pointless call back to Balki saying “don’t be ridiculous”. Weirdly, I happened to poke around the extras for the DVD BEFORE watching this episode and saw a bit of a table read where this is being pitched, and I use a bad attitude with this show so I assumed it was a sketch that got rejected, haha.  

There’s a Glo-Worm sketch that reportedly drew inspiration from the Blake Edwards film Skin Deep, which by all accounts is a mediocre comedy that has one extremely memorable scene where two men wearing glow-in-the-dark condoms have a light-saber style duel with one another. I never did see this movie, but I remember kids at my school talking about it. 

The final sketch is Matt Senreich and Seth Green playing a reel of in-memorandums for the crew members that died while making Robot Chicken (and, of course, accompanying footage of them being killed in terrible ways), with a mock-serious tone and title cards (meant to parody the finale of Six Feet Under). They are dismayed that there are only two, so they murder a production assistant, and then try to kill each other (taking many down in the resulting struggle).

Eventually Mike Lazzo comes in to correct their gay-ass behavior by cancelling the show. Interestingly enough, he is voiced by Clark Duke and not the actual Mike Lazzo, who apparently declined to appear as himself for this episode, as well as episodes afterwards.

I make no secret of not liking this show, but this one was okay as far as Robot Chicken goes. None of the sketches made me cringe, and while nothing mad me laugh I did find myself thinking “oh, that’s fun”. Thank goodness I don't have to watch this show until next season, which will surely start sometime late in 2009 and not two months from now.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

I was talking with my friend about which of the knights would immediately support Merlin’s magic when it’s revealed and which of them would need a little more time.

Then we started thinking about how Merlin reacts when Arthur is threatened, and how he doesn’t care who it is but he’ll fight anyone to protect Arthur.

And because I love angst too much, I brought up how hurt Arthur would be at his best knights and closest friends assuming the worst of him.

I’ve had this stuck in my head for a few days so thought I’d share:

———

There’s some sort of emergency, either a magical creature or bandits while the knights, Arthur, and Merlin are all on a hunting trip. Arthur’s life is in danger so Merlin acts without thinking to save him, revealing his magic to everyone. (Only Gwaine and Lancelot know, but Merlin doesn’t know that Gwaine knows yet.) Merlin is left standing in front of Arthur with his hand out to stop the threat while the gold leaves his eyes.

Arthur: You have magic…

Lancelot and Gwaine both come to Merlin’s defence, saying something like

Lancelot: *standing protectively by Merlin* Sire, he’s done nothing worthy of punishment.

Gwaine: *grabs his sword and stands protectively by Merlin* if you hurt him, and it’ll be the last thing you’re capable of doing.

And seeing them both defend Merlin over his magic so easily, the rest of the knights join in too. Leon knows Merlin and Arthur are as loyal to each other as they come, and Elyan and Percival have both seen magic - good, bad and indifferent - outside of Camelot from their travels so while it took them a second longer, they do side with Merlin.

Leon: Arthur, think this through,

Elyan: *holding his sword* I can’t allow you to hurt him.

Percival: *puts a hand on Arthur’s shoulder threateningly* Merlin’s as loyal as they come, surely he deserves a chance to explain himself.

Arthur isn’t even holding his sword, he dropped it during the fight which is why Merlin had to save him. He’s just looking at Merlin with hurt in his eyes, then at the knights looking something close to betrayed but also hurt for them believing he could ever hurt Merlin. The thought never crossed his mind until Gwaine said it.

Merlin stops looking at Arthur and glares at the knights, stepping away from Lancelot and Gwaine to make it clear that he doesn’t want them to side with him. He then magics Elyan’s and Gwaine’s swords into flowers so they aren’t threatening Arthur. Then he stops holding anything back so his ‘Emrys filter’ disappears and Merlin gets to be threatening while being openly protective.

Merlin: All of you, stop. If anyone harms a hair on Arthur’s head, I’ll reenact every attempt on his life that I’ve stopped since coming to Camelot on you all, but this time they’ll be successful. So help me gods if you hurt him, I’ll hurt you enough that your great grandchildren will still be feel that pain.

Arthur: …

Everyone is stunned, Arthur feels overwhelmed by everything and isn’t exactly processing, but he’s hopeful when he sees Merlin still caring about him.

Merlin: *turns to Arthur* I’m a sorcerer, I have magic. I use it for you, Arthur. And whatever you decide for my fate, I’ll accept it willingly.

Arthur: We’re going home. You’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Merlin.

Merlin sighs, relieved that he isn’t about to lose his life, and immediately goes back to his servant duties, handing Arthur his sword and getting the horses. The knights collect their things, murmuring to themselves and subtly watching Merlin and Arthur while they talk too quietly to be heard.

Arthur: Thank you.

Merlin looks over, confused and raising an eyebrow in a way he really shouldn’t at his king, but it’s reassuring to Arthur that they’re still Merlin and Arthur despite the magic.

Arthur: For not assuming the worst of me.

Merlin: You’re too good for that, Arthur. Even if you did get angry, you’d have every right to after I lied for ten years. For what it’s worth, I am sorry about that.

And it seems so simple in the way Merlin says it, like they can get through this just like they’ve gotten through everything else so it’s going to be okay. So Arthur tentatively accepts it in that moment, whatever ‘it’ is that gives Merlin magic because he’s definitely still got questions.

Arthur: it’s… well, it’s not great. I won’t pretend I’m not upset, but at least you didn’t go shouting about it in court.

Merlin, flashbacks to when Gwen was accused of witchcraft: yeah… good thing…

———

That’s all I got. I’ve still got really bad brain fog so I’m not sure how coherent this is, I’d settle for passably readable at best though. I’ll probably write something more for this when I can focus on anything for more than five minutes without feeling like my head is going to explode, but for now I’m just gonna leave this here.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A new servant desperately struggles to understand what exactly Merlin is:

A cryptid? Arthur's boyfriend? Simply a dude? The court jester? Something else entirely? Who knows, certainly not the new guy.

The first time the new kitchen-hand, Tristan, saw The King’s dark-haired servant sprinting down the corridor, he couldn’t tell if the man was laughing or crying.

He was fast, faster than Tristan thought possible for someone whose arms were so full of laundry, but he politely steps out of the way, coming to the conclusion that he must’ve been late for something. At least... he did think that, until he turns the next corner to see three of The king’s most trusted knights peering out of windows and into random doors. Tristan freezes in the corridor, he’d heard that servants were treated extremely well here, but he’d only been employed for a few days and he didn’t want to risk anything by pushing past or addressing his betters.

One of the knights, Sir Leon, his brain helpfully supplies, spots him stood there, and his annoyed frown quickly morphs into a friendly smile:

“Pardon me, sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve seen Merlin around anywhere, have you?”

Tristan’s eyes go wide and the grip he has on his tray tightens, but he forces himself to take a breath and answer, trying his best to keep his voice even:

“Merlin is... The King’s manservant? Tall, with dark hair?”

Another knight pushes forward, he looks to be the oldest, with dark hair falling in an almost deliberately tousled way around his bearded jawline. His charming grin seems just a little too wide to be genuine, but Tristan isn’t quite sure if that’s because he’s about to take pleasure in punishing someone, or if he’s just being polite to a stranger:

“Yeah, yeah that’s him, seen him? Arsehole turned our shirts pink in the wash, and something tells me it was deliberate.”

Tristan gulps at the accusation and he takes a shaky step back, but before he can even think of defending the stranger that he now thinks must’ve been crying, the last of the three knights, a giant, if Tristan believed in such things, steps forward:

“Don’t worry, we won’t beat him too much.” 

He says it with a grin and a quirk of his eyebrows, but once again the kitchen-hand can’t tell if it was cruel or genuine, if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Uh... yeah, he turned left at the end of this corridor, but I didn’t see where he went after that, I apologise.”

Sir Leon waves away his apology with a smile, looking to the long-haired knight with a raised eyebrow:

“The stables?”

The man grins widely, nodding his agreement as he turns his grin to the giant. Sir Leon offers Tristan another soft smile, murmuring his thanks before moving past him, elbowing the other two to prompt them in to thanking him as well. The three of them march down the corridor with almost vindictive smiles on their faces, and Tristan prepares himself to see a vacancy note, or possibly a funeral invite, posted on the notice board by the next morning.

When he passes a window that evening to see the King’s manservant being carried on the giant’s shoulders as five other knights pelt them with gloves, a grin on every face, he decides that... well... it’s probably best to just not to ask.

~

The next time he sees Merlin, a few days later, The King is also there.

This is the first time Tristan has been in Arthur Pendragon’s presence, and though the other servant’s all rave on about how awkwardly kind he is, he’s a bundle of nerves. Not even Cook’s stories about how often she whacks The King’s knuckles with a wooden spoon when she catches him about to pilfer something stops Tristan’s heart from racing. 

The King was overseeing a few of the servants decorate the main hall for a feast, and whilst Tristan is certain that that’s not something The King normally does, he doesn’t question it, just thinks that maybe the other servants had been telling the truth, and he was a genuinely nice, but normal man. 

Merlin stands at his side, and though Tristan can’t hear their conversation, the two of them are clearly bickering over something. The servant can’t help his curiosity, wanting desperately to move closer to find out what sort of things The King allows his servant to bicker with him about; luckily, the table right next to them has yet to be laid, so he moves towards it quickly. He doesn’t even glance at them, terrified of being caught out, but perhaps Merlin surviving the knights non-wrath the other day is encouraging him, and his steps don’t falter. Their words come in to focus, and he has to stop the confused, and slightly horrified, frown from spreading across his face:

“Arthur, I swear to the Gods, if you make me wear that hat again, I’ll piss in your wine and serve it to you in front of a crowd.”

The King scoffs just as Tristan shakily begins laying down the cutlery:

“That’s treason, Merlin.”

“Do I look like I care? Not only will I piss in your wine, I will not hesitate to push you over a balcony at the first opportunity. This hall is high up and it’s a long way down to the gardens. He drank toxic wine and turned loopy and tipped himself off a balcony and went splat! That’s what people will say. I’m not wearing the Godamn hat.”

Tristan has to focus extra carefully to stop himself from gasping; Merlin just threatened to kill The King... that’s got to be a death sentence. Pissing off some knights that he’s obviously friendly with is one thing, but threatening to kill The-

“Ha ha. Very funny. If you can’t tell, Merlin, I’m being sarcastic, I know you struggle with complex concepts like that.”

Merlin just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms as he says with no hesitation:

“My mind is more than capable of coping, My Lord, it’s your belt I worry about being able to cope nowadays.”

Tristan bites his tongue to stop himself from yelping and turns away so neither of them can see his horrified face. The King just makes an outraged noise in the back of his throat, and Tristan can hear Merlin snort in laughter at whatever expression Arthur was wearing to match such a noise:

“Go to the stocks. I want you there for three hours.”

Tristan lets out a confused breath; Merlin threatens to kill The King, and gets playful sarcasm, but he implies The King might be a tad overweight, and gets sent to the stocks for three hours? How is that-

“Yeah... no. Not happening. The feast starts in less than two hours and I still have to help Guinevere organise some stuff in the courtyard, do Gaius’ rounds for him, then put an extra hole in your belt and help you get dressed because, despite being a grown man, you’re still an idiot who’s incapable of putting clothes on in any sort of decent manner.”

Tristan finds himself relaxing a little. This seems to be the norm for them, but surely... surely The King had a line somewhere, and a servant just flat out refusing to be disciplined must be where it lies?

Arthur just scoffs, and Tristan angles his head in such a way that he can see him roll his eyes:

“Fuck off.”

Merlin grins, seeming to cast a suspicious gaze over the room to make sure no one was watching and somehow completely missing Tristan stood just there, before saying quietly:

“You love me really, you prat.”

With that, Merlin reaches up to yank at a lock of The King’s hair before hurrying off in the direction of the courtyard before Arthur can react. The King jumps slightly, clearly caught by surprise as an annoyed flush rises on his face, but Tristan just frowns in confusion when his shock gives way to a softly amused smile.

Huh.

~

The next few times Tristan saw Merlin made him fear for the servant’s safety. He was being taken on hunts by The King and his knights, that’s meant to be for squires, to learn the ropes and gain experience in tracking and riding. 

He supposes it isn’t entirely unheard of for a servant to follow their master on a hunt, but with the way Merlin complains without pause, and The King in turn complains about his complaining, he thinks it would better for everyone if Merlin just... didn’t go. When he brings it up to another servant, a lovely woman named Guinevere who had helped him get unlost at least three times in his first week, she just laughs and smiles at him pityingly:

“I wouldn’t worry, those two have been like that forever, they’re practically inseparable.”

Tristan responds with a rather intelligent sounding:

“...What?”

Gwen laughs softly again, shaking her head and patting his shoulder consolingly:

“You’ll get used to it, they’re just... like that.”

She gives him one more smile before turning to wave the boys out of the gates and walking back to the castle as if this were the most normal thing in the world. Tristan supposes that it probably is.

The next time Tristan sees Merlin leave the city gates with the knights, Sir Elyan, Sir Mordred, and Sir Lancelot this time, it’s distinctly worse. Because he’d caught sight of the patrol rota last time he ran food down to the training ground, and he was certain that those three had a city patrol right about now.

Before he even has time to gape in shock, he hears Merlin’s pleading voice as he trails Sir Elyan like a lost puppy:

“Please, El, I promise to stay out of the way, I will do anything, but I swear to the Gods if I have to spend one more minute around that prat, I’ll hurl myself from the battlements.”

Swearing to the Gods and threating to hurl various people, including himself, from significant heights seems to be some sort of theme for The King’s manservant. Before Tristan can consider the implications of that, Sir Elyan turns to Merlin with a wide, teasing grin on his face:

“You know, I would’ve let you tag along for free, Merlin, but now that you’ve promised me something I feel the need to take advantage.”

Tristan tenses at that, a shot of ice spiking down his spine. He has keen eyes and sharp ears, he knows that Sir Elyan is the lovely Gwen’s brother, Sir Mordred seems to have an... odd worship for the servant, and he’s definitely picked up on the close bond between Merlin and Sir Lancelot, but is this where Camelot’s image comes crashing down in Tristan’s head? He knew that it was better here for servant’s than other Kingdoms, but there are always people who’ll take advantage of their position, no matter where you are. Merlin’s shoulders just drop and he asks in a sulking voice:

“What do you want?”

Tristan grits his teeth, moving his gaze so no one would catch him glaring at the knight as he tries to figure out a way to help, a way to get this virtual stranger out of being... abused, in such a manner. If he’d carried on glaring, he would’ve noticed Elyan’s soft smile and amused raised eyebrow:

“Next time you gather herbs for Gaius, bring back some more of those flowers that you got for Gwen. She said they added vibrancy to the house, whatever that means, but they make her happy, so...-”

Merlin just giggles and nods and Tristan relaxes, looking back to them with a confused smile on his face. That was... actually kind of sweet, he can definitely see the resemblance between the knight and his sister:

“-AND I want whatever Arthur’s having for dinner tonight, his food always looks way nicer than ours.”

Merlin lets out a faux annoyed groan, but then rolls his eyes and grins, nodding:

“Consider it done. Can we go now? I really don’t want to risk him seeing me and giving me some stupid chore to do.”

Elyan laughs and nods, and the four of them begin making their way out of the courtyard and into the city. Sir Lancelot finally joins the conversation, clearly amused as he says:

“You know it’s literally your job to do chores, right?”

Merlin turns to glare at him as Sir Mordred and Sir Elyan laugh, and Tristan only just hears his reply as the castle gates shut behind them:

“Fuck off.”

Tristan decides it would be pointless to bring this up to anyone again, he figures he’ll probably just get the same answer as last time.

~

The next confusing incident happens only a few days later. But Tristan supposes that at this point... it really shouldn’t be confusing. Gwen was right, he did just... get used to it.

He heard the steps pounding down the corridor before he saw him, but they were coming fast and hard, so he presses himself against the wall, holding the tray to his side to protect it as best he could as Merlin comes skidding round the corner. 

He stops just long enough for Tristan to calm himself by spying the wide grin on his face, but he’s quickly sprinting down the hall again, laughing as he waves whatever it is he’s got clutched in his hands. The second set of loud, rapid footsteps stops Tristan from stepping away from the wall quite yet. Just a moment later, Sir Gwaine follows Merlin’s skidded path around the corner, though the heavier man overshoots slightly and he runs into the wall opposite Tristan with a crash and a deep groan.

The rebellious knight gives a wide-eyed Tristan an awkward nod before pushing himself off the wall and following Merlin’s blazing trail, screaming down the corridor:

“I warned you Merlin!! Don’t come between a man and his ale, now give that back you bastard!”

Tristan hears Merlin’s laughter grow louder, even from the two corridors away that the other servant had managed to race to.

He shrugs to himself, waiting for a moment to see if anyone else was going to come barrelling around the corner before sighing, and continuing his journey up to the visiting Lord’s chambers.

It was unusual, he thought, how quickly he’d come to terms with the fact that a servant was sassing The King and pranking the knights and inviting himself on various hunts and patrols that he really had no business on. Unusual indeed.

~

He’d learnt to ignore it. Or at least brush it off.

In the two weeks since Merlin had (presumably) stolen Sir Gwaine’s skin of ale, he’d seen the servant call The King a long list of imaginative insults (what the hell is a dollop head?), walk around with Sir Leon’s cloak on because he was a little chilly, accuse someone of treason (and somehow been right about it), and threaten to kill at least seven people; including, but not limited to: The King himself, The King’s already dead father, some stuck up Noble (though that was under his breath, Tristan just happened to be stood next to him), and Sir Percival.

And Gwen was... absolutely right. He's just... like that. He's Merlin, and that’s what Merlin does.

So when he turns a corner in a rarely used to corridor to see him pressing The King against a wall, snogging the life out of him, Tristan simply turns around and walks back the other way. Both of them look fairly happy with the arrangement, and they’d probably chosen this corridor for the exact same reason Tristan had: it was out of everyone’s way, and was unlikely to be inhabited.

He thinks it’s odd, how... un-odd he finds it. He absent-mindedly thinks that, with the way they acted around each other, he really should’ve seen this coming. A sudden thought occurs to him, and he ducks into a storage cupboard, laying his tray down carefully as he rummages through the boxes. He lets out a quiet “Yay” when he finds what he’s looking for, carefully picking up his tray with only one hand and nudging the door open again with his hip. 

He walks back towards the corner he had just turned (and turned again) making a conscious effort to keep his steps quiet; he places the danger sign, usually used where walls had collapsed or windows had been smashed, in the middle of the corridor, a clear indication of “Do Not Enter”.

He nods smugly at his quick thinking and easy handy work before mentally planning the quickest route to the kitchens and following it hurriedly.

He casually wonders if he has time to circle around to the other end of the corridor so he could put another sign down before Cook gets angry at him for being late. Probably not. At least, not before they... finish up and move on. Hmm. He suddenly panics about the thought of them seeing the sign and knowing that someone had spotted them but... well. Hopefully they would just appreciate it and move on.

Yet again, he decides not to bring this up to anyone. He may or may not have overheard a few of the knights making some sort of bet, and he may or may not want to watch on with amusement as they fail to realise that all of them have already lost.

Tristan smiles to himself; working here had turned out to be rather entertaining, in the end.

~

THE END

I know it’s short, but I really didn’t know what else to add without it sounding like I was just repeating myself over and over😅

I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

[calummss]

Devil’s Awakening | Arthur Shelby

masterlist

summary: after arthur kills eduard ross in the boxing ring, he’s assigned to take care of you to avoid jail time. he’s a walking hot headed mess, and you are a sweet but mischievous lady on wheels

words: 4.1k

a/n: my first ever arthur one-shot and i’m so excited! i hope you enjoy this idea as much as i do. there are time jumps bc i don’t want to write multiple chapters lmao :)

‘Arthur Shelby.’ A uniformed officer approached Arthur in the waiting room.

Arthur looked up from his bloody knuckles feeling nothing but shame, guilt and adrenaline as he thought back to the early morning hours that had brought him to the police station.

‘Come with me.’ The officer turned around and started to lead the way.

It took Arthur a good few seconds before standing up and leaving the room to follow wherever he had to go. If it wasn’t for that lady, he wouldn’t have been here. He felt a sort of anger towards her but not enough to lash out at her. First—she was a woman, and second—Arthur killed her son. Of course she’d go to the police. Would Arthur go to the police if someone killed his future son? No. He’d get justice for himself.

The police station was low on staff so that only a few workers crossed the hallways where he was tagging behind the officer. And in every new hall he’d roll his eyes as pictures of King George V would cross his path: bastard.

‘Step inside, Mr. Shelby.’ The officer stopped in front of a vacant room and opened the door, gesturing him inside. ‘Inspector Wilson will be with you shortly.’

Arthur glanced at the officer who nodded at the door.

‘If you would please go inside so I can close the door.’

‘Relax,’ Arthur threw his hands up in defense. ‘I’m going.’ He shook his head before walking into the room and hearing the door behind him close.

This wasn’t the first time that Arthur ended up in Inspector Wilson’s office. Before the Peaky Blinders had any real power or the coppers on their side, Arthur would end up in drunken fights at the Garrison that needed the cleaning up from the officials, because no one dared to take on Arthur Shelby by themself.

Sitting down in the chair he was too familiar with, Arthur made eye contact with none other than the King that was placed high up on the wall, that would look over Wilson’s right shoulder.

He’s bloody everywhere, Arthur thought.

But with no time to think about the portrait for another second, the door behind him swung open and he was greeted by a man in a dark uniform, grey moustache and hair, paired with those thick eyebrows that were hanging in disappointment—Inspector Wilson.

Inspector Wilson was carrying a document in this right hand whilst his left took his hat from his head and placed it on his desk before he smacked the papers down and took a seat in his chair.

‘What are you doing here again, Arthur?’ Wilson’s words were coated in nothing but exhaustion from having Arthur back in his office. He smoothed out his moustache hairs and opened the file that was sitting in front of him.

But all Arthur could do in return was stare back down at his bloodied hands. The blood was completely dried into his skin, but the longer he stared at it the more it returned to it’s wet and shiny consistency.

Am I going insane? This isn’t the first time I killed someone? Why is this kill so different from the rest? Am I being haunted? Is this-

‘Arthur!’ Arthur was ripped out of his thoughts. ‘What am I supposed to do with this?’ Inspector Wilson scanned over the info that was given to him.

‘You know why you’re here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘I thought you know?’ Arthur's heavy voice penetrated the silence within the room. Arthur wasn’t sure why he had to repeat today’s event when it was written in perfect writing and ink for Inspector Wilson to see.

‘I’d like to hear it from you.’ Wilson folded his hands and propped his elbows on the desk in front of him. ‘To make sure you know.’

‘I killed a boy in the boxing ring,’ he sighed, ‘but I swear it was an accident.’ He said in a more stronger but still quiet tone.

‘Mr. Shelby,’ Inspector Wilson’s index finger scanned the page before coming to a stop halfway through the page. ‘A boxing accident does not cause multiple skull fractures, brain water leakage, a broken nose, a broken jaw in multiple places, dented eyeballs, missing teeth, and two broken cheekbones.’

Arthur was silent. He did not remember being so cruel to the boy. He only remembers standing in front of the body before making eye contact with Finn and Isaiah who were there to watch the fight. He had no recollection of doing such, but he wouldn’t be surprised if his state worsened. Arthur knew that the devil inside of him was wild. Too wild and he also knew that this had to come to a stop but how does one take the devil out of a man that does not function without it?

‘Look, Arthur.’ He closed the folder and looked at him. ‘I have known you my entire life. I was school friends with your mother and father, but this has gone too far.’

‘You’re not sending me to jail are you?’ Arthur’s hands gripped the side of his seat nervously, moving around in his chair like he was waiting for the final verdict of the trial.

‘What am I supposed to do?’

‘I’m a Peaky Blinder. I won't go to jail!’

‘People like you have gone to jail for less.’ He poured himself a glass of water. He gestured to Arthur if he wanted some but Arthur refused. If there’s one thing Arthur didn’t need right now it was fucking water after finding out that he could go to jail.

Arthur’s fingers tapped against the chair handle anxiously, trying to figure out a way of this mess. ‘I swear, I’ll do anything!’

‘I don’t know, Arthur.’

‘I swear it. I swear it on my life. You know I’m a man of my word.’

‘Well, there is one thing you could do.’ Inspector Wilson combed his eyebrows with his fingers, eyes closed, as if he weren’t sure himself if this could truly work. ‘It could help you deal with other people and maybe put that devil’s flame inside of you to rest.’

‘And what would that be, Inspector?’ Arthur asked, his eyes and mouth trembling, afraid that he might have to do something against his dignity, or something that would embarrass him for the rest of his life. He was a gangster. A Peaky Blinder, and he wouldn’t let something disgrace the title he worked years for.

‘I have a niece. She’s paralysed from the waist down, including one arm. She needs assistance and the last caretaker quit a week ago. She can’t go anywhere because it’s too hard to wheel herself anywhere.

Arthur felt like a joke. Inspector Wilson wanted him to take care of some cripple? Arthur was a gangster, a pretty good one too. What would his enemies think of him if he started to feed a lady?

‘I’m not a fucking nurse.’ Arthur’s eyes went wide.

Inspector Wilson stood up from his chair and turned his back to Arthur, filing in his document. ‘It’s either that or 15 years in jail.’

Silence. Arthur’s face spoke for itself. His eyebrows were knitted together, his body was stiff, but his chest rose deep. He didn’t want to go to jail. Neither did he want to take care of someone like a nurse. But at least with the girl, he could still participate in the family business.

‘Fine.’ He finally gave in to the option that didn’t appeal to him either. ‘How long do I need to do this then?’

‘Until she dies.’

‘Until she dies?’ Arthur almost jumped out of his seat, but instead his eyes went wide again. ‘How old is she?’

‘29.’ Inspector Wilson replied.

‘29?’ Arthur repeated, not sure if his ears caught the right information that crashed onto him.

‘Arthur, relax,’ Wilson sat back in his seat. ‘Doctors say she has a year or less left.’

‘Fine, I’ll do it then.’

‘It’s the right decision, trust me.’ Inspector Wilson stepped around the desk to pat Arthur on the shoulder before walking out of the door. ‘Go back home, Arthur. I’ll call you when you start.’

And with that, Arthur left the dull police station to go back to Watery Lane.

A few days later he sat opposite a woman in a rather big house compared to the family home he grew up in. She was pretty. She sat in her wooden wheelchair all day long until the clock struck 9 and it was time for her to go to bed.

‘Uncle, you're trusting him with me?’ Your eyes followed your Uncle, Inspector Wilson. ‘Didn’t he murder someone.’ You chuckled.

Arthur couldn’t lie. Thinking back to that day made him chuckle. It was very odd to trust a murderer with a woman that couldn’t defend herself.

Arthur also did lie. To his family. Or was it lying if you withheld the truth? The family knew that Arthur made a deal with the coppers to not serve time, but they didn’t know that he was spending his time with a woman that had rather much to say. But he liked just that. Because the more she talked the less he had to and if there’s one thing Arthur Shelby hated it was small talk with people you had nothing in common with.

‘I’m bored.’ You scoffed into the silence that filled every inch of the house you were bound in.

You were sitting by the big living room window as you observed the neighbour’s kids playing football in their part of the yard. The weather was sunny and the warm rays of the sun fell onto your skin, a reminder that it was only a privilege to enjoy a summer’s day like normal people.

‘What was it you said you did?’ You turned your head to face the man that was in charge of taking care of you.

He was quiet. Very quiet. If you wouldn’t talk to him he’d be as quiet as a mouse. A simple ‘Good morning’ and ‘Goodbye’ was all you ever heard all day and it was driving you insane.

‘I never mentioned it.’ Arthur’s eyes glanced up from the newspaper he was reading on the couch, legs crossed.

‘My uncle mentioned you were a gangster.’ You turned the wheelchair around and pushed yourself towards him which was a hassle. ‘Take me with you.’

‘No.’ Arthur said without a second thought with that serious yet taken aback look on his face.

‘Why not?’

‘Look at you.’ His eyes gestured to your appearance.

Arsehole.

‘First of all, Arthur, I’m a cripple not fucking blind.’ You rolled your eyes, wishing you could slouch in your chair but of course you could neither do that. ‘Second; You’ll deny a lady to have fun even though this could be her last day?’

Arthur’s lips were straight, his nostrils slightly flaring up. God, Inspector Wilson didn’t mention that she was so annoying…

‘It’s dangerous and you can’t fend for yourself.’

‘You don’t have to take me into battle,’ you leaned your head back. ‘Just your headquarters or something. I’ve never seen something like that. Please, Arthur. Imagine dying without fun.’

This woman sure has a way with words.

‘I’ll think about it.’ His stern words filled your ears before his eyes were glued back onto the newspaper.

You were about to open your mouth but you were cut off before you could even make a sound.

‘I said I’ll think about it.’ Eyes still scanning the texts.

‘Fine.’ You crossed your arm, pouting. ‘Can you at least bring me back to the window?’

Arthur got up from the couch and wheeled you back to the place where you were reminiscing about a time that was long gone. At least he was better company than Mrs. Davis…she was a nightmare. But her memories soon faded as you continued to watch the neighbours' kids.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･

It was a lovely and quiet morning when you woke up. The morning sky was painted a bright blue that you could see through your windows.

Carla, one of the maids, brought you your morning tea and a few biscuits. Everything was nice and quiet until a pair of very heavy paced footsteps could be heard. They grew louder and closer as they approached your door, and you knew exactly who it was.

‘Morning, Arthur.’ You said, nodding at Clara to place a biscuit between your teeth.

Arthur seemed slightly out of breath, taking off his cap and waving his arm around, taking several breaths before finally speaking.

Meanwhile you couldn’t stop laughing at him.

‘Put on your jacket.’ Arthur said, placing his hands in front of him.

You held in your laugh. There was no way that Arthur forgot that he had been working for a paralysed lady for several weeks now.

‘I’m paralysed you idiot.’ You snorted.

‘Oh, yeah…’

‘Why would I anyway?’

‘We’re going to Small Heath.’ Arthur turned around on his heels making a small squeak erupt from the floor before putting on his hat and walking out of the room.

‘Why?’ You yelled after him, confused because you had no idea what he was trying to do.

‘Because a lady wanted some gangster-fun, isn’t that right?’ Arthur answered back with a shout.

Clara, who was still sitting next to you, gave you a worried look. She advised you against it multiple times.

You smiled at her. ‘Hell yeah, Arthur.’

‘I’ll get the car ready whilst you get dressed. Thanks, Clara.’ And you heard the front door shut with a loud bang.

You got dressed as fast as you could, damn this sickness, and made Clara bring you outside where you were greeted by Arthur standing against his car. He had a cigarette placed between his lips and his arms folded. He looked cool.

‘Right then.’ He flicked the cigarette bud to the ground, coming towards you and picking you up bridal style before walking towards the side of the car where the door was already opened and gently placed you onto the passenger seat.

‘Thank you.’

He then took hold of the wheelchair and placed it in the back seat making sure it wouldn’t fall off during the ride before sitting down himself and starting the engine.

‘I promise to bring her back in a piece.’ He gave Clara a playful look, knowing that Clara hated everything about this little day trip, and drove off.

You were approaching the gates of your driveway when one of Arthur’s hands found itself in the air with his index finger upright.

‘Right,’ he shook his finger. ‘We need to establish some rules.’

‘Can I shoot a gun?’

‘No.’

You sighed out loud, wanting Arthur to know that you were disappointed.

‘First off, do not whine up any of the people that are going to be there. They won’t care for your state.’ He glanced at you before turning his eyes back on the road. ‘Second; don’t make a fool of yourself.’

‘I can’t do that.’

‘You have a mouth with a perfectly working tongue…hold it.’

‘Aye aye, Sir.’

‘Y/n,’ Arthur said, more relaxed. ‘I’m serious.’

‘So am I.’ You replied.

All Arthur did was roll his eyes and continue to concentrate on the road, slowly approaching the familiar town of Small Heath.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･

‘Who’s this cripple?’ Was the first thing you were greeted with when Arthur rolled you through the door, immediately closing the door to the people that were trying to get into the shop.

Opposite you were around nine people. Three women and six men. They were sitting and standing around a table in the middle of the room. The man that stood next to the woman, chewing on toothpick, asked that very rude but funny question.

Arthur pushed your wheelchair further into the room. The people in the room were now all staring at you like you were some kind of extraordinary thing.

‘This cripple is a lady and you better talk to me with some respect, you twat.’

The man was taken aback, it was shown through his face which crinkled up for less than a second. Others let out a suppressed laugh hidden behind their hands or their turned heads.

‘Sorry, Miss.’

You continued to stare at them as did they. Arthur stepped out from behind you and cleared his throat. First looking at you and then them.

‘This is Y/n. I’m supposed to take care of her instead of going to jail for 15 years. She’s paralysed from the waist down including one of her arms.’ Arthur said, looking at the ground, his voice almost disappearing into the silence.

‘Can you sound more ecstatic, Arthur?’ You eyed him down.‘You’re making it sound like I’m the worst option. I have to do this.’ You mocked him in the last sentence.

Arthur walked towards the table and passed each person, pointing his finger at them, mentioning their names.

‘This is Tommy, Polly, Michael, John, Esme, Ada, Finn, Scudboat, and Lovelock.’

They all nodded their heads or gave a quick awkward wave.

‘Her wish was to come see this place.’

‘Wish?’ The woman named Polly repeated like it was the worst wish ever.

‘Yes, some of us are dying and have wishes.’ You rolled your eyes. ‘Arthur?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m thirsty.’ You said smirking to yourself, knowing how embarrassing it would be for him to get and help you drink water in front of the entire family. The big scary beast helping a poor lady drink, more than entertaining.

Arthur’s lips pressed together for a few seconds before he picked up his feet and walked towards the left of the room, going through the bright green double hinged door.

Some other people in the room went back to their business, but the men named Tommy, John, and Michael kept looking you up and down.

‘So this is where Arthur has gone to every day?’ Tommy’s deep voice asked.

‘He sure has.’ You replied, staring into his eyes. You could tell he was the boss. He had the confidence of one.

You saw Arthur come back through the door and you took your chance once more.

‘He gives very good feet rubs.’ You said. They all chuckled in response which was rather stupid of them because Arthur just told them you were paralysed which meant you couldn’t feel your feet…

‘Do you find that funny, you prick?’ You raised your eyebrow at John who couldn’t stop laughing. ‘Arthur’s hands may be just as soft as your cock.’ You glanced below his waist line.

Polly smirked at you. She already liked you a lot.

‘If you weren’t a cripple I’d take you in, you know,’ Polly informed you.

‘How kind.’ You smiled for a second before dropping it.

The rest of the day Arthur showed you around the betting shop and took you to the Garrison later in the evening where you enjoyed being hand fed a pint of dark beer that was too heavy for you to hold.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･

Months later Arthur was back in Small Heath. He was going to get one of Polly’s baskets, a blanket, and food for a picnic he had planned for you. You mentioned that you would love to have one, so he took it upon himself to make your wish his command.

‘What are you doing, Arthur?’ Polly ashed her cigarette whilst Arthur went through the cupboards.

‘Grabbing things for a picnic with Y/n.’ He continued to look through the kitchen.

‘Y’know,’ Polly started, ‘the girl is doing you some good, Arthur.’

‘I don’t feel as angry anymore, Pol, y’know?’ Arthur stood up and looked at her. ‘I can’t describe it. It feels weird, but…good?’

Polly noticed that too. Arthur wasn’t so quick to act on his temper, he felt more relaxed and calm when he was with you.

‘She’s a good person.’

‘I know.’ Polly replied.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･

‘Arthur?’ You asked as he rolled you through nothing but green fields.

Arthur hadn’t mentioned a thing where you were heading or what you were going to do. All he did was tell Clara that you’d be home later that day.

But a few minutes later and the set up of the most beautiful picnic caught your eyes. The food was placed on the blanket and a bouquet of flowers was sitting in the middle of the fabric. Arthur had picked you up and sat you down at a tree that could hold you upright. You smiled at him, your cheeks were probably red, and a warm feeling emerged from your chest.

There hasn’t been a single thing Arthur hadn’t done for you. You were so grateful that Arthur was assigned to you, so so grateful. He was better than any caretaker you ever had. But at the same time you were incredibly sad. When you first met Arthur you had a year left and you were fine with dying and never returning to this life. But the past months with Arthur made it hard. It would make leaving hard. You’d been to the doctors yesterday and your life expectancy dropped rapidly. How would you be able to break that news to him? You noticed it too, that Arthur felt something for you, but you were too shy to mention it. Would it be cruel not to say anything?

‘Arthur,’ you said, your eyes looking up to the crown top above you. ‘I went to the doctors yesterday.’

‘What did he say?’ Arthur asked, getting your plate of food ready.

At this very moment you wished you could move, but all you could do was place your hand on Arthur’s to grab his attention from the plate.

‘He said that,’ you could feel a hard lump grow right in the center of your throat. A god awful feeling that started to let tears roll down your cheek. ‘I only have a few weeks left. Two, three, maybe four, but not more.’

Arthur was silent. He seemed almost disconnected. His eyebrows were low and pulled together, his eyes were bulging, and his lips curled inwards. It took everything in Arthur not to go crazy and scream like there was no tomorrow. Instead the plate in his hands fell to the ground. An angry, hot tear rolled down his cheek, Arthur wiped it away and rubbed his eyes with his hands. He couldn’t understand why it had to be you? Why did every person around Arthur have to die? Was he bad luck? Did he have a curse?

‘Arthur, it’s okay.’ You tried to comfort him, but all you got was a confused angry look on his face.

‘It’s okay? It’s fucking okay?’ Arthur inhaled through his teeth. ‘How is any of this okay?’

‘Arth-‘

‘No, Y/n, it’s not okay. How can you say that?’ Arthur’s hand stroked his beard.

‘Arthur, listen to me please.’ You let out a small cry. Your tears hadn’t stopped falling since you brought the news to light. ‘Come closer.’

Arthur did what he was told. When he was close enough you grabbed his chin and pulled his face into yours, kissing him. Your lips brushed against his delicately like butterfly wings. He kissed you deep and slow, like no boy had ever kissed you. Chapped, but soft lips seeking closeness and the sharing of one breath. Running out of air, you broke the kiss and brought your foreheads together, stroking his cheek as you kept your eyes closed.

This was all you ever wanted. To find love, but sadly it came too late.

Two weeks later and the touch of your lips was no longer sitting on his skin but instead was far away. Your touch was gone. That warm touch Arthur loved so dearly would only be a memory from now on and would soon be forgotten.

‘I won’t forget you.’ Tears escaped Arthur’s eyes as his eyes scanned your grave which was scattered with the most beautiful flowers.

Arthur gently placed red carnation flowers on top of your headstone, wiping away his tears, trying to regain some of his strength back, feeling more than weak.

‘I promise to rub your feet in the next life.’

With that Arthur left. He didn’t mutter another word, instead thought back on your memories as his heart broke once more.

[claraswritings]

MASTERLIST & RULES

IMPORTANT

Code

☀️ - fluff only, 🌤 - some angst but happy ending ☁️ - ambiguous ending, ⛈ downer ending 🔥 - smut

Canon typical violence, language in all fics.

If I do write smut, it will be behind a cut and well signposted. I will only write this for characters over the age of consent and no large age gaps (obviously!)

I’m not taking requests for full fics but happy to write blurbs if you’re willing to be patient ❤️

Most fics are written with a female reader. If it can be read as gender neutral, I’ve put GN. This is because I do not want to misrepresent or be disrespectful to other gender identities.

As much as possible, I do not give the reader any descriptions and I will not usually write the reader as looking a certain way. You can read them however you like. If the reader is listed as a sibling of a certain character, it’s usually written so that you can read it as if they’re adopted.

Spoilers should be assumed for ALL content I write about

You are responsible for your own consumption

I no longer write for GoT or The Haunting

I will never write SA /incest or graphic harm

I do not write Mword/Dword, age play or similar kinks. Those are some of my personal hard no’s and I do not feel comfortable with it. I will not yuck another persons yum but I think there are other writers out there who will do this.

GAME OF THRONES

Arthur Dayne

The Princess and the Knight AU where Rhaegar is King and Ser Arthur Dayne loves his sister -Targaryen!Reader- ☀️

Euron Greyjoy

Dangerous Plans - Reader is promised to Euron Greyjoy by her sister. She decides to make the best of her situation. Lannister!Reader - ☁️

Gendry Waters

Run Away - Gendry and Reader make plans - Stark!Reader 🌤/☁️

Jaime Lannister

Real Love - An arranged marriage turns out to be your perfect match- Baratheon!Reader 🌤

Jon Snow

A Love worth waiting For- Jon has always loved you…but you are betrothed to Robb- Baratheon!Reader 🌤

Betrayal - Jon is preoccupied with Dany- Stark!Reader ⛈

Permanent Guest - Jon would like it if you stayed - Mormont!Reader ☀️

Sandor Clegane

Bodyguard AU- Celebrity!Reader has a new boyfriend that isn’t as bad as he seems 🌤/☁️

KINGSMAN

Eggsy Unwin

You’re My Best Friend- It takes Charlie to make Eggsy realise he’s in love with you - ☀️

MARVEL

Bruce Banner

Lab Partners - You’re working with Dr. Banner but he’s surprised to learn it’s him rather than the Hulk you’re impressed with - ☀️

Bucky Barnes -

It’s Been a Long, Long Time - Bucky has loved Steve’s sister since the 1940s - Rogers!Reader ☀️

Move on - You and Bucky had a good thing going…until the snap and the blip - ⛈ - GN

Hope Not Too Long - Bucky returns after the blip 🌤

Matt Murdock-

Loving you is Easy - Soulmate AU - Matt has you, You don’t think you have a mark - 🌤

Inside your Mind - Established Relationship, Matt worries about telling you his secret. Semi-sequel to the above but also its own thing - 🌤

MCU!Peter Parker

The Right Choice - Tony’s daughter has every faith that her late father chose the benefactor of EDITH correctly - Stark!Reader 🌤

The Boy Next Door - You’ve lived across the hall from Peter for some time- The two of you have a crush on each other - 🌤

One Condition - You have your suspicions after bad guys get into your school - 🌤 -GN

Natasha Romanoff

Come Back To Me - Nat’s girlfriend deals with the fallout of Nat’s mission to Voromir - 🌤

Always Meet Your Heroes - Nat helps you out when the city is under attack - ☁️ - GN

Peter Quill-

Movie Love - Peter meets another scavenger- she’s also from Earth - ☀️

Blast From the Past - You thought your childhood friend had disappeared but he’s in your kitchen ☀️- GN

Scott Lang

New Recruit - Your friend Sam asks you to bring in the new recruit- What happens when he happens to be your cute neighbour ☀️

Steven Grant

Stay For Now, I Love You Forever - Steven meets s girl and falls in love. Marc falls too -🌤️

TASM!Peter Parker

All I Want - Peter and you have been friends for sometime. He realises he loves you but is it too late? - 🌤

I Was Meant to Know You - When your universes Peter ropes you into help the villains, why do feel drawn to one of the other Peters? - 🌤

I Was Meant to Love You - Having followed Peter 3 back to his universe, he finds you. Sequel to the above - ☀️

Thor Odinson

A Work of Art - Thor shows his appreciation for a reader passionate about art - ☀️

Quentin Beck

Beauty In Chaos - Master manipulator Mysterio awakes to find the Shield operative he’d romanced by his bed - ☁️/ ⛈

RPF

Jake Gyllenhaal

I Find My Way Back to You - Jake and you break up over a co-star. He regrets it - 🌤

I See Nothing But You - Jake is dating Tom’s sister and is interviewed about her- Holland!Reader ☀️

Tom Holland

Premier date - Tom’s perfect date has been there the whole time ☀️ - GN

STRANGER THINGS

Eddie Munson

I Want You To Want Me - Inspired by 10 Things I Hate About You wherein Robin likes Chrissy, Jason likes Chrissy and Chrissy can’t date until you do- Cunningham!Reader 🌤️/☀️

Peter Ballard/001/Vecna/Henry Creel

Skin of the Night - Peter is obsessed with YOU- ☁️

Steve Harrington

I Fell in Love with You in Stages - multi-part (20 lol) fic following Dustin’s sister and Steve through the events of s1-s3 from kind of enemies to friends to lovers - Henderson!Reader 🌤/☀️

THE BEAR

Carmen Berzatto

Can I Be The One - Multi option fic where you can choose Carmy or Luca 🌤️/🔥

Jealous Carmy Blurb from the CIBTO Carmy timeline. 🔥

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

SFW Alphabet ☀️

Sleeping on him - ☀️ You want to sleep, he has work

Bookshop Meetcute - ☀️ Carmy likes the bookshop owner

Chef Luca

Can I Be The One - Multi option fic where you can choose Carmy or Luca 🌤️/🔥

Luca Proposing - Blurb from the CIBTO Luca timeline ☀️

Kitchen sex 🔥 - it’s been a while so you and Luca fix that after closing

NSFW Alphabet 🔥

SFW Alphabet ☀️

Period Care - ☀️ Luca looks after you on your period

THE HAUNTING

Hugh Crain

Waking Up with… Headcanons - Waking up with young Hugh Crain - ☀️- GN

Solace - you and young Hugh Crain are the only two that understand each other 🌤 - GN

Luke Crain

Late - Luke is late home but you don’t mind ☀️ - GN

Love in the Strangest Places - you do not expect the rehab Center to be where you fall in love - 🌤

Especially You - You get a call from your friends brother- turns out there’s a lot about Luke you don’t know 🌤

Unexpected - Your late night booty call runs out on you. Your pregnancy test is positive 🌤

Meeting You Again - you left for Rome during college- Luke thought he would never see you again 🌤

Not a People Person Until I Met You - You’re not the most friendly person, more into bars and your one close friend- Until Luke Crain comes into your life - 🌤

Exactly As You Are - Luke loves you. Just as you are ☀️

Stay - You help Luke out when he’s cold and alone. Your kindness sticks with him and he calls you after he’s poisoned 🌤

Wedding Day - You and Luke are getting married ☀️

Steve Crain

Took You Long Enough - Steve’s had a thing for you forever ☀️

Theo Crain

Workplace Romance Headcanons - Headcanons about meeting Theo and starting up a workplace romance - ☀️

In the Dark - Theo has nightmares. She’s glad you are there 🌤/☁️

Prom Date- Teenage romance with Theo - ☀️

TED LASSO

Jamie Tartt

Conversation - Enemies to Lovers, you are the player liaison officer at Richmond and Jamie is a colossal prick. Until he isn’t - 🌤️/ ☀️

[wardenparker]

Once Upon a Time... part 7

Zach Wellison x plus size f!Reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Zach’s life gets turned upside down when his visit to the local library sends him all the way back to Camelot - and he meets another time traveler who has made the kingdom their home.

Rating: Explicit. There is no turning back from the smut now that we have found it. Word Count: 17.4k Warnings: *This is a Zach fic so there WILL be discussion of homelessness.* Fingering, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, morning sex, hand job, cum eating technically?, two morons utterly in love. Self esteem issues countered by body positivity, we love us supportive partners, parental loss/death mention, infertility mention, lots of fashion/clothing talk, definite body image issues because of course, PTSD mention.  Summary: With only one week to plan an entire medieval wedding, there are a lot of decisions to make. It’s a good thing our couple-out-of-time has a very important set of helping hands. 💖 Notes: I am so, SO sorry for the delay between chapters. Life happens and it has been happening to me *very* hard lately. However, we are back on track now and continuing with Zach and Dandelion’s beautiful love story. 💘

Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6

The deep, sweet cover of sleep lifts slowly, but the warmth of Zach beside you is unmistakable even in your dreams. He fell asleep with his body framing yours and one arm thrown around your waist and he hasn’t moved - only adding a gentle snoring against your neck that makes you grin. Shifting in his grasp, you turn to face him and bury your face in his bare chest. For the next week, and by decree of the king himself, this wonderful man is your fiancé. Just one week.

He grunts, brows pinching together for a moment, but his face smooths out and he sighs. Happy in his sleep and pulls you closer to him. Recognizing your body even in his sleep and wanting to keep you close. His breathing changes slightly, the soft snore interrupted, and he groans slightly.

“Morning, babe.” You practically whisper it, keeping your voice hushed so as not to break the spell of sunrise.

"Hmm." He smiles before he even opens his eyes. "Morning baby." He wiggles closer to you and kisses whatever part of you he can reach, getting right between your eyes. "No sneaking back to my room since they know. I like this."

“In a week we’ll be moved anyway.” The quarters above his workshop were built for a family, and that’s where your new home will be. Multiple rooms and everything. You hum happily at the thought of it. Living together is something you’ve only done with one other significant partner in your past and sharing space with Zach sounds infinitely more comfortable than it had with Pete. “A week isn’t much time at all.”

"Are you ready to have to take care of things on your own?" That does worry him, although he knows you have already been assured you can use the castle laundry.

“It’s kind of overwhelming.” If you were back home, you’d be suggesting city hall and a backyard barbecue, but you have a feeling Zach would insist on making it special. Here, though, you have no idea what you’re even supposed to be planning. “I wish I had a woman I could talk to. I would feel weird asking Merlin. And there’s no way I would ask Arthur.” Your other friends in this place are the Pendragon cousins, and that just seems rude. Not to mention the fact that none of them are married yet so you doubt they would have any idea of what was necessary. “I’m not worried about moving, baby. Not having a servant is more than okay with me. It’s the wedding. I just have no idea.”

"Guinevere is going to come by and plan everything with you." He tells you with another kiss to you head. "I guarantee it. She said something about spoiling being her privilege."

“No pressure.” You snort, nuzzling his jaw with your nose. “Planning a wedding with arguably the most legendary European queen of all time. Should be a cinch.” Honestly it would make you feel like the single most special bride in the world if he is right, but you wouldn’t bet your life on it. But whatever it is, all you actually care about is getting to be with Zach. That’s the whole point of this.

Zach grins. "I bet you whatever we do in LA wouldn't compare to a 5th century wedding." He teases. "She's a very sweet woman and she has a soft spot for me, so I bet you can get whatever you want."

“I already have what I want.” It’s cheesy, but it’s the truth. “Just you, and whatever our very weird future has in store for us. Anything else is a bonus.” Tilting your head back just enough to catch his lips, you hum happily when he kisses you back without making a fuss about morning breath. “In LA I would have said city hall and a backyard reception. This is not going to be that.”

"No, it's not." Zach chuckles and kisses you again.

“What do you want?” You know most grooms leave thing up to the bride or wedding planner if there is one, but one of the things you love about Zach is that he’s thoughtful, and another is that he’s definitely a romantic. You would bet your life that he has imagined his own wedding. “It’s your day, too.”

“Is it cheesy that I really want you to wear a crown of heather and flowers on your head?” He asks with a grin.

"Then that's exactly what I'll do." It sounds romantic as hell, and just the sort of thing that he would love. Something natural rather than polished and manufactured. "I think it's actually traditional right now, or maybe that's just the Vikings." You reach up to kiss him again, never able to get enough. "What else?"

"Hmmm." He tugs you a bit closer, both of you still naked after the night of celebratory sex. And he had definitely loved you showing him what you had learned. Because of how tender you were, it had been limited to oral sex, but both of you had been exhausted and happy when you had both fallen asleep. "Just you and me." He tells you. "That's all I want. Although I'm trading a carved cradle for a gold wedding band for you."

"Baby you don't have to do that." You know what a weak protest it is, but you don't want him to feel like he has to do anything extra stressful just for you - even though you would bend over backward for anything he wanted. "You could tie a ribbon around my finger, and it would still be the perfect ring."

"I want to." He promises you, giving you the most charming smile that he possibly can. "The metalsmith needs a new cradle for his expectant wife. I want my wife wearing a beautifully crafted ring with all the Welsh knots and beautiful designs on it."

"Men don't wear them here." It's something you've noticed, over time and observation. "Otherwise I'd want you to have one, too." It's not as though you've ever spent much of the money you've been rightfully paid over the year you've been here, and you would spend it on something beautiful for him in a heartbeat.

"It's dangerous to wear while you are working or fighting." Zach tells you. "My dad had to stop wearing his while he was in his workshop. Nearly took off his finger once when it got caught."

"No ring for you, then." A little piece of jewelry is no reason for him to get hurt, no matter how symbolic it might be. Offering him a smile so he knows you're not upset about it, you slip your arm around his waist to bring him impossibly closer. "There's no modern stuff you want to do? Just in case we don't get back?" You can see the Pendragon boys throwing a hell of a bachelor party, but you don't know if that's something Zach would even want to do.

"Honestly, no." He shakes his head. "I know the feast will be amazing and you will be my wife, what more can I ask for?" He asks you softly. "I will set up our new home for our wedding night."

"While everybody waits outside to make sure we fuck?" You have to laugh at that, shaking your head against his chest. The most embarrassing medieval tradition, in your opinion, is the group of revelers that waits outside wherever the couple is sleeping that night to make sure the union is consummated. Nothing like a bunch of probably-drunk folks partying outside your door to kill the mood. "It's not technically legal here until it's consummated. So, there's always a group of people waiting around to make sure it happens."

"Do you want to consummate here in the castle?" He asks, grinning because his cock is definitely already hard, and he pushes it against your hip playfully. "They can always wait in my room and hear everything."

"You're just excited that betrothed couples cohabitating is socially acceptable." Zach had very gleefully reported that fact to you after Merlin had clued him into it last night. Your hand slides back along his side, to his hip and around again to wrap your warm fingers around his length. "A little lazy morning sex before we have to get up sounds amazing."

"Are you too sore?" He asks seriously, not wanting to hurt you. Yesterday had been the fucking sex Olympics and he didn't want you to try to push yourself too hard.

"Not too sore for my fiancé." You are seriously going to love that word for the next week, and you know he can see that happiness shining in your eyes.

He purses his lips and searches your face when his fingers slide between your thighs. Giving a small huff when you whine instead of wince. "Okay baby, but the second it hurts, you tell me."

"I promise." You won't count the tiny pinch when he stretches you to take all of him the first time, because it's exactly the kind of perfect feeling that you love. But that first slide of his fingers inside you is perfect, making your hips cant toward him without hesitation and drawing another whine from your lips when he dips deeper into your pussy and glides his thumb over your clit.

He loves making you cum, already addicted to the feeling of you clenching down and the way you look. He loves the way that you respond to him, and you are so open since he had managed to convince you he wanted you. All of you. "Cum for me and then you can have my cock baby." He coos softly.

Zach's clever fingers have you on the edge in no time, moaning softly in his ear and writhing under his touch. He seems to have learned your body in no time flat, remembering the exact places along the column of your neck and shoulders that make you gasp, and the perfect amount of pressure when he rolls your nipples between his teeth before soothing away the bite with his tongue. It's amazing, the attention he has put into every moment of intimacy together, and when you fall off that mountain of pleasure - gasping his name into his kiss - he's right there to catch you.

Rocking you through it, he groans, the heavy tip of his length smearing precum against your hip while he murmurs praises into your flesh. “That’s it, baby. God you are so beautiful.”

"Fuck..." You sigh against him, grinning like a madwoman, before reaching to pump his cock a few times in your eager hand. "How do you want me baby? I need you inside me."

“Roll over.” Zach orders you. You turn over and he squeezes your thigh, dragging it up over his hip so he can line up and sink into you while scattering kisses along your neck. “You are perfect baby.” He coos, slowly dragging his length in and out of your walls. “Made for me.”

There's really no way you ever stay quiet when he's inside you. He feels too good, and you know that he loves to hear every sound he drags out of you. This morning it's whimpers and moans, every drag of his length inside you making stars burst behind your eyes. It's not that you've never had good sex before - you have. You've had passion and need and youthful, burning desire. But this? Sex with love? If you had only known that the man you would end up with would be this attentive a lover, you might have actually gone ahead and saved yourself. His innocence kink would have loved that.

“I love you.” He murmurs, sucking on your pulse before he hums and kisses the wet spot. “In a week we will be married in Camelot. No one else we’ve ever known can say that.” He rolls his hips slowly and keeps the pressure steady.

"Mmm, you're excited." That's almost a fucking turn on in and of itself, and you roll your hips a little more insistently to meet his. "I l-love - oh! - love you, too."

“Hell yes, I’m excited.” He admits that with zero shame. “Wanted the white picket fence dream, after I got out.” He whispers. “Loving wife, kids, everything.”

"I guarantee the first." It might be the easiest promise you make in your life, and you make it with zero hesitation. "The second will come soon enough in the land of no - oh fuck - birth control."

That worries him. Still paranoid about the timeline and how they could mess up history. But he doesn’t voice it. Instead, he holds you closer and kisses along your shoulder, feeling your walls start to flutter around him, preparing for your next orgasm.

It's unmistakable, the way Zach holds you like he's afraid you'll slip away, and this morning you do your best to reach behind you, threading your fingers through his hair and grasping at whatever part of him you can manage. The pleasure rolling down your spine makes you gasp out, barely managing to warn him before you're shattering in his arms for the second time this morning.

It’s warm, hot and all consuming, the way that your body locks down around him and his own ending is rapidly approaching. “Where?” he croaks out, feeling the tingling in his spine.

"Thighs, baby." You'll save begging him to cum on your tits for the next time he's facing you, and Zach has nothing but studious appreciation for your legs anyway.

He almost doesn’t make it. Pushing deep and then jerking himself out of your tight passage to fist his cock once before he is working himself through his release. Splashing ropes of cum on your luscious thighs.

You reach back for him immediately, needing to kiss that perfect cupid's bow of his bottom lip more than you need to breathe. "Love you so much." It's just a whisper, but that's all he needs to hear you.

As fantastic as his orgasms are, hearing those words are what melts him. “I love you too baby.” He kisses you softly and pulls back with a smile. “For the next sixteen hundred years at least.”

"At least." Shooting him a happy grin, you sigh dramatically and nuzzle his nose with yours. "We should probably get up. You have a crib to carve, and I have a wedding to plan." Somehow. You're still not sure how exactly you're going to pull that off.

Zach huffs playfully. “You have the easy part.” He teases, stealing one last kiss before he rolls over. “Stay there, let me get a cloth to clean you up.”

"At least you know what you're doing!" But you still laugh, unable to shut off the sunny smile he brings out in you. Not that you ever would, even if you knew how.

“True.” He wets a rag in the basin of water and comes back over to the bed to wipe the splatters of his seed off your skin. Happy that he convinced you to sleep naked with him. “Okay lazy, get up.” He teases, pinching your thigh lightly. “We need to get dressed so we can eat and then work our asses off.”

“Do you want me to bring lunch to the workshop later?” He rarely takes a break, and you’re not sure if he’s planning on taking his normal late-morning pause for training in the courtyard or if he’ll stay in and work all day. Either way, you just want to make sure he’s taken care of.

He shakes his head. “I’ll swipe some extra food at breakfast and take it with me.” He tells you as he pulls the dress off the trunk at the end of the bed and tosses it to you. “Who knows how long the queen will keep you. And I have sword practice right after the noon meal.” He snorts. “Gawain swears he will make me puke one day.”

“Gawain doesn’t like that you’re faster than him. He used to be the medieval Flash until you came along.” Getting dressed isn’t that difficult for you, since you’re blessedly in a time before corsets, and you’re ready even before he is. The extra minutes are good for shoving your hair under a soft cap so it isn’t obvious that you were just fucked into your mattress first thing in the morning.

Zach snickers. "Until that man is made to drink water until he pukes and then run five miles, he ain’t got shit on me." It's a little boasting, but while these men may be amazingly strong and skilled with a sword, Zach had them beat on endurance and speed for running. The Marine Corps had been good for that. His boots and uts runs to thank.

“The Marine Corps sounds so charming.” You wrinkle your nose - not for the first time - about some of the things he went through in the service, but it is what it is. Everything he has done in his life has led him here, and here is with you. So who are you to complain? “Ready to face the day, handsome?”

"I am." He is in another new outfit that had been created for him, amazed at how many surcoats and breeches had been made. The idea that they had two sets of clothes back in the early medieval times was clearly not the case. He has more clothes in this time than he did in LA.

Turning to head to the door, you stop and smile, loving the way this period’s clothes look on him. “You really are incredibly handsome.” You sigh happily, wondering what in the hell you ever did in your life to deserve someone as wonderful as Zach is and so drop dead gorgeous.

"Eh." He knows he's not bad looking, but he's also not a fucking blonde god like the men he was around. There had been a few moments of insecurity when he compared himself to Gareth, but you wanted him, so he wasn't complaining. "Passing, but as long as you like me, I won't count myself unlucky."

You practically roll your eyes at him, poking his side as you pull open the door to your chamber. “If you get to think I’m sexy when I hate every single part of my body, then I get to think you’re sexy even if you don’t see it.”

Aisling is standing outside the door, rolling her eyes and huffing, although Zach is glad she didn't barge in – it hits him exactly the wrong way. He held his tongue while she continuously disrespected you, but he was damned if she was going to continue to insult you. Obviously judging you for whatever reason. "Do you like being in service to king and queen?" He asks, voice low and almost conversational. "I know Ava does. She told me that without the kindness they have bestowed on her, she would be out in the cold. I wonder what they would do if they were angry." His tone drops down even more, the authority in his voice that he hasn't used since he was a corporal, ordering his men under him around. "You insult my fiancée - narrow your eyes, huff, blow, barge into her rooms or anything that she or I don't like, I will make sure that the queen knows exactly how I have seen you treat my intended." He threatens, pinning her with a dark glare. "Do we understand one another?"

The girl gulps, her back against the wall, and immediately drops her eyes to the flagstones under her boots. “Yes, my lord.” Is the only thing she says before she scurries inside to collect your dirty clothes for the laundry.

“You didn’t have to do that.” You mumble. Embarrassed, mostly, because you’ve spent a year letting a teenager with a chip on her shoulder walk all over you because you don’t generally think you deserve any respect anyway. “I was going to tell Arthur that we only needed one person to help us. Let Aisling be dismissed to work for someone else without getting her in trouble.” Ava adores Zach, and despite her crush has fully accepted that the only time she would go near his bed is to collect the linens for washing.

"Yes, I did." Zach argues, leaning in and kissing you again before he takes your hand and puts it on his arm. While you were both free to be more intimate in public than you were before, he is still conscious of the fact that this is not modern LA and the customs need to be respected. Kissing you last night was expected but no one here walks around kissing all the time. "I was tired of her attitude, and she needed to be taken down a peg."

“It’s only another week.” Ultimately, everyone will be happier with the situation once you and Zach move out of the castle proper and into the apartment above his workshop. Who knows how long you’ll be there, whether it will be weeks or months or the rest of your lives, but you’ll be together.

******

The Great Hall is bustling by the time you get there - most people in good spirits and plenty of conversations overlapping to bounce off the stone walls and increase the noise. It matches your own mood, that happy, excited smile returning to your face. “I’m going to eat quickly.” Zach is already apologizing, but he’s anxious to get started on the cradle. He’s hoping to get it put together before practice so he can start carving.

“You have work to do, love. It’s fine.” It sucks that you most likely won’t see him again until tonight, but that’s exactly how it would be back in LA if you both had 9-5s, so you brush it off. Maybe your first stop will be the chapel royal to find a place to start on wedding planning.

The king and queen enter and immediately Guinevere lights up when she sees you and Zach. “You will be busy too.” He smiles as he stands and bows as the older woman hurries over to join the two of you.

“Your Majesty.” The proper curtsy in the presence of the queen is nearly to the floor, and frankly you’re still stunned that you can pull it off without falling over. That was not the case when you got here. “You look to be in high spirits this morning.”

“Of course, my dear! We have a wedding to plan!” The queen is practically giddy and for a moment Zach feels as if she is nurturing her maternal desires through them. Taking your hand, she squeezes it gently before she throws Zach an apologetic look. “My brave knight, would you allow your intended to sit beside me while we discuss things? You on her other side of course.”

Zach smiles and bows. “Of course, my queen.” He tells her, looking over at you with a slightly smug smile. “Your desires are my fondest wish.”

Alright, so he was right about the queen. You shake your head a little to wipe away the dazed feeling and settle into the large chair that he normally occupies at meals, on the Queen’s right side. Breakfast is a less formal affair, with no serving and some watered-down ale to drink, but you’ve grown fond of leftovers first thing in the morning and don’t mind one bit. Although, Zach is right. You would kill for a cup of coffee. Taking a deep breath, you turn to the excited monarch. “I’m afraid American weddings may be very different from the ones Camelot has seen before, my lady. I am…unsure where to begin.”

“My dear, first we shall have my royal seamstress measure you for a gown.” She bites her lip. “I hope you will allow me to spoil you. I am so fond of Sir Zachariah, and the king is fond of you. I would like for this to be as royal an affair as it can be.” She gives an almost girlish giggle. “The king is already planning a hunt for fresh game the feast.”

“You are truly too kind.” There is no reason she needs to do any of this but out of the kindness of her heart, and you know only too well that when Arthur and Guinevere set their minds to something, they are unstoppable. It’s part of why Camelot is such an unchallenged superpower until Guinevere and Lancelot’s affair comes to light. You do, though, quickly check in with Zach - yesterday you had intended to wear the dress you had on when you met, and he had loved that idea. The last thing you want is for him to disappointed with any aspect of the day.

Zach nods, knowing that it would disappoint the queen to have you say no. He loves that dress, but the idea of the having one made for your wedding is equally lovely. One you could save for only the best occasions while you are in Camelot. The queen looks over that Zach. “The material she chooses, we will have a surcoat made from the same. The tailor still has your measurements. I summoned him last night to discuss.”

“I may have some…unconventional idea about the design.” You admit, always having had a soft spot for all of those fantasy and renaissance styles that dominated films you grew up on. “If that is acceptable.”

“Whatever you wish.” Her eyes brighten and Zach can tell that you’ve piqued her interest. “I have parchment and a piece of coal.” She lowers her voice slightly. “It’s silly and wasteful but I love to create visions of what I see.”

“Beauty is never wasteful, my lady.” That, at least, is something transcendent. Art will always be a tireless form of expression for humanity just the way music and poetry are.

Zach finishes his breakfast and wraps some bread and piece of pork pie in a cloth and stands. “I will leave you ladies to the planning.” He tells you both with a smile and a bow to the queen.

“I’ll see you for supper.” You manage to snag his hand and give it a squeeze before he walks away, leaving you with the queen.

Zach makes his way out of the hall, heading towards the workshop, his steps faltering slightly when he sees Gareth waiting by the door. Obviously waiting for him. Sighing slightly, he continues on his way and greets the knight. "Good morning." He says simply, reading the uncomfortable body language of the other man and wanting to put him at ease.

Gareth has been waiting for longer than he would like to admit, arms crossed and shoulder against the stone hallway, impatiently anxious for the American knight to appear. Last night was the most envious he has ever felt in his life, and he does not like the feeling whatsoever. “You wasted no time.” He observes, pressing his lips in a hard line.

Zach ducks his head once but his eyes don't leave the other knight's. "Love cannot be measured by time." He reminds Gareth. "Come inside?" He offers, opening the door to the workshop and standing back so he can enter. Hopefully the conversation would not turn violent, but he also did not want castle gossip to spread.

The workshop is fairly sized, the work being done here needing ample space for its creation, but Gareth doesn’t waste time looking around despite never having been inside before. He has no desire for a fight but has to admit that this would be much easier if Zachariah were a more combative type of man. To be righteous in his anger would be far less sinful than his envy. “I cannot help feeling that you have stolen what was rightfully mine.” Gareth admits, taking advantage of his height to nearly loom over the smaller man.

"I know you feel that way." He knows how Gareth feels, has been in the same situation when Katee Dunn chose Brandon over him. It was stupid to be mad at the man he thought of as a brother, but he had been. It was another reason he had felt so fucking guilty when Brandon was killed by and IED on the streets of Baghdad. "I can assure you that I never overstepped when you were in her bed." He can promise that. "If things were different, we would be celebrating your marriage to Dandelion and I would be in your shoes."

“The difference is my uncle’s favour.” Gareth has exactly one place where he squarely places the blame, and it is the throne. “Though I am not sure which of us has more of it. You, for his quick acceptance; or me for his refusal. I suppose if he thought less of either of us, circumstances would change.”

Zach reaches out, clapping Gareth on the shoulder. "I do not have the burden of being a prince of Camelot." He reminds the knight. "You are a Pendragon and must have a woman of birth that is your equal. I know you care for Dandelion, and I hope you know that I care for her equally." He pauses and sighs. "I don't blame you. I was envious of your obvious affections for her when I first arrived. She is a woman of undeniable charm and cleverness."

Gareth leans back against the wall, deflating slightly when he realizes that there really is nothing to fight about. You've made your choice, and in the deepest part of his heart, all he truly wants is for your happiness. Even if it isn't with him. And regardless of the fact that it hurts to acknowledge. "And she..." He swallows, hating the question. "She loves you? Has said it freely?"

"She has." He answers cautiously, knowing that the other man's feelings were still bruised. "Her affection for you is still there, Gareth." He bites his lip, not mentioning that you had said you cared for him, but didn't love the blonde man. "But she was not willing to be a mistress, due to her own feelings about such things. She wants you to find a love that you are satisfied with as well."

"I see." Gareth manages to muffle his heavy sigh, unaccustomed to the idea of sharing such information with another man. His brothers and cousins tend toward the cruder humours, with the exception of Gawain. Despite himself, he has to shake his head. "I came here to be angry with you." He admits, not expecting Zachariah to be surprised in the least. "But anger and envy are poisons that infect everything."

"I understand." He does, if the situation was reverse, he would feel the same way Gareth does. "Does it ease your mind to know that I will do everything in my power to make sure she is happy, for all her days?" He asks softly.

"It does." He nods slightly, beginning to feel a little more sheepish than he expected. "She deserves happiness. Even if I cannot be the one to give it to her."

Zach clears his throat. “In America, we have a tradition, I don’t know if you have something like that here - where the best man stands up with the groom in front of the priest.” He knows it’s unorthodox, but he decides it’s the right move. “I was hoping that you might be that best man to stand beside me.”

It takes a moment, Gareth gauging whether or not the other man is joking, before he actually starts to laugh when he realizes Zachariah is serious. “I would be an ironic choice.” He tells him. “In our traditions, the groom chooses the best fighter in the village to stave off anyone who might object to the union. If anyone were to object, I believe myself the most likely candidate.”

Zach chuckles and gives him a small shrug. “I know that if it were possible, you would object.” He admits. “If that is your tradition, I won’t ask you to do that.” He doesn’t want to hurt him more.

Gareth shakes his head again, recomposing himself accordingly. “I would trust no one else to protect her as we would.” He confesses, knowing the feeling will be understood. “Besides. I feel I may enjoy the irony when the melancholy has cleared.”

Smiling, Zach nods his head. "Then you shall be the best man beside me." He chuckles and lifts a brow. "I'm imagining Arthur's face when see it."

“What else does your American best man do?” He knows his uncle won’t believe the sight even with his own eyes, but if this is to be the way he is able to make you happy, he will do it. Zachariah is a good man, and someone he could easily have become close to - even has - in spite of his admitted jealousy.

Zach gives a shrug. "They throw a party for the groom, normally. Ale and wine, women, sport." He shrugs. "One last night of debauchery before settling down." He huffs. "Then they make sure the groom doesn't show up drunk and doesn't run away from the bride."

“Wine, women, and sport are my brothers’ favourite hobbies.” Gareth snorts a little at the truth of it. “A night of debauchery shall be had. But I…hardly think I need tell you what my opinion of you would be if you ran from her.”

“Never happen.” He promises. “I will be the luckiest bastard alive.” He remembers the very real usage of the term bastard and corrects himself. "I— I'm not a bastard, but we just use it as a phrase in America."

“Interesting.” Wiping his hands awkwardly on his trousers, Gareth looks around the workshop and blows out a breath. “I am sure you have work to do. But I am…I’m not sure I can claim to be glad of this conversation, but it is good that it happened.”

Zach nods. "It is good that it happened. I respect you." He holds out his hand to the other man. "When you have found the lady you are meant to be with, we would be honored to have you and her in our home."

“I have respect for you as well.” Even Gareth Pendragon must admit when a battle has been lost, but at least this man is a worthy opponent. He clasps Zachariah’s forearm with his hand and nods one last time before heading for the door. “Do not be late for the sparring ring!” He calls back before it shuts behind him, willing to consider it the door that shuts fully in his ambitions toward you.

Zach sits there for a moment, amused slightly by the turn of events and shakes his head before he turns his attention to the windows to throw the open for more light. He will make sure he is ready in the ring today. He has a feeling, while Gareth may have conceded your hand, he will still be more than aggressive in the ring.

******

The one time you had been to see the Royal seamstress was right after your arrival in Camelot. Her workshop, for lack of a better term, is large and has enormous windows for light, all of which are currently thrown open while the queen bends over a piece of parchment on the seamstress’s worktable. Your ability to describe the dress you had been talking about earlier is limited by modern vocabulary and the fact that a pop culture reference from 1998 would mean nothing to these women, so you can only do your best to lay out the idea of the masquerade gown Danielle wore in Ever After.

Guinevere is having a ball. You are describing things and she will move to an empty spot of parchment to try to recreate what you are saying. "Is this it?" She asks you as she quickly sketches the bust line of the dress and the design you are telling her about. You have so many ideas! She loves to know where you came up with this, as it is obviously something you have seen before.

“It’s just like this.” The little sketch the queen has done is exactly right, and honestly she is a wonderful artist. You would be inclined to ask to see some of her other work if it weren’t such a personal request. “The fabric can be simple.” You insist, knowing that the design is something that will require skill and time. The fact that the seamstress and the queen both seem to be enjoying this creative exercise is the only thing keeping you from just asking for a recreation of one of your current dresses in a new colour.

"No." The queen shakes her head and tuts. "This gown does not need simple, it needs extraordinary." She turns to the royal seamstress. "Bring out the silver brocade with light blue threading." She tells the woman. "I have this cloth that I haven't been able to decide what to use it for, and this will be stunning."

"My lady..." The instinct to protest is overwhelming, as the seamstress disappears further into her rooms. Any fabric meant for the queen is going to be luxurious at bare minimum and opulent at best.

"Do not protest." The queen tells you, straightening up from the table. "I have had this cloth for quite a long time. It is as if it was fate that you have the perfect design for it."

"I do not mean to seem ungrateful." You tell her quickly. "It's just that...where we are from? We never could have dreamed of this sort of celebration. It is a kindness we will never forget, and I only wish that there was some way we could repay you."

Her eyes soften and she gives you a small, motherly smile. "My dear, you have gifted us with so many lovely songs and entertaining evenings." She tells you. "You cannot fathom how much your presence has uplifted my husband, our king. This is something that we both are happy to provide."

"I have some new songs in mind for this week." It's about time that you added some classic jazz to your repertoire and there are dozens to choose from. "If that is how I may repay your kindness, then may the music never cease."

"You have the cleverest mind." Guinevere marvels. The seamstress comes back with a large bolt of beautiful fabric. "Here it is." The queen smiles as the fabric is laid down on the table. "What do you think?"

"Oh." The fabric is gorgeous, and one touch of your hand is enough to prove that it is real silk, which means not only is it spectacularly beautiful, but it was probably spectacularly expensive as well. Importing silk out of Asia, across the entire Roman Empire, and into England could not have been easy. "It's...it's stunning. Even better than I envisioned." And knowing that Zach's own suit will be made of the same fabric makes you smile even wider.

"Splendid!" The queen nods. "I shall work on the embroidery myself." She tells you with a grin before she motions for you to strip your dress off. "Come now, we are all ladies."

Your eyes nearly bug out of your head at the idea of Queen Guinevere embroidering part of your wedding dress, and it throws you off kilter enough to just blindly obey the direction to remove the outer belt from your dress without a minute of protest. The second you hesitate, though, the seamstress waves one hand dismissively. "I have seen more bodies in my day than I care to count, my dear. No need to be shy."

Guinevere shakes her head. "No need to be modest." She tells you. "I wish that I had curves like yours." Her lips pull down into a frown for a split second, obviously thinking about her own husband’s previous mistresses and their luscious figures. "You are lovely. Your Zachariah and Gareth both agree, but Gawain also had his eye on you when you arrived."

The irony is immense, considering the queen's willowy figure would be the envy of everyone who saw her in your time. "In America, I am afraid circumstances are quite different." You normally wouldn't say a word on the subject, but you're going to gently skate past the comment that Gawain had previously showed interest in you - that's too much for your brain to wrap itself around right now - and you definitely don't like that tiny twitch of a frown on Guinevere's face. "A delicate and trim figure such as your Majesty’s is preferred for women. I am...not used to such attention. To put it very politely."

"Then the men in America are fools." She huffs indignantly on your behalf. "You are a beautiful woman, and I can see why both of Arthur's knights and your Zachariah would be so enamored with you." She tells you honestly. "You should hold your head up high, and when anyone says otherwise, you tell them the Queen of Camelot finds you perfect the way you are."

The seamstress sets to work quickly, starting with a bare and basic shift that she is pinning and folding and tucking with expert precision while you talk. "I shall never forget it, my lady." Honestly, you'll probably shed a few tears over the sentiment later, when you aren't face-to-face with the queen herself. It is perfectly apparent, now more than ever, why Zach thinks of her in such maternal terms.

The queen watches as you are measured, and the seamstress works swiftly. She hums thoughtfully and taps her finger on her chin. "You said that your Zachariah is having a ring crafted for you." She muses to herself. "But would you allow me to loan you a necklace that would go with the design, or would you rather your neck be bare?"

"I—" This just keeps getting more and more unbelievable and it kills you that you won't have any photographs or evidence of the spectacle your wedding day sounds like it will be. "I would be honoured to wear something of your Majesty's."

The queen smiles like you have given her a gift. "We shall have to rummage through my jewelry chest." She clasps her hands together like a happy girl. "I have always wanted a daughter and so far none of Arthur's nephews have seen to marriage." The bastard that Arthur has isn't mentioned, although she does not live near the castle.

"I'm sure that will begin soon enough." The stories all apparently had the timing wrong on the marriages of each of the Knights, but they are all destined to wed. "There will be weddings enough to keep the chapel full and kitchens busy for many years to come."

"I can only hope." She bites her lip. "Since I am not able to give the king a proper heir, they will need to ensure his line." She has resigned herself to being childless, thankful that Arthur didn't blame her for it too badly.

"We must have faith in God's plan." You can only hope that that brings some comfort to the queen in all her piousness. Guinevere's infertility is almost universally agreed upon by scholars in the twenty-first century, but seeing the woman before you throws the fact of it into very harsh relief.

"Yes, that is what gives us comfort." She sighs and bites her lip before she shakes her head and smiles at you. "However, for now, we must concentrate on this wedding!"

There are, as you expected, about a hundred small details to attend to and none that you truly have solid opinions on. A spiced cake made with dried fruits and honey? Wonderful. Shaped and decorated gingerbread figures? Delicious. Flowers gathered from the forest to decorate the front steps of the chapel and the Great Hall? Stunning. Music played by the troop of minstrels that has essentially been your backup band for the last year? Fantastic. All of it sounds amazing just as the queen lays it out, but the one topic you're not keen on is surely approaching. It always does with weddings.

“Now, my dear.” The queen reaches out and takes your hand. “I know that you and your countryman are the only ones that are used to your culture. We – don’t have to have someone lead you to Sir Zachariah, since your family is not here. But— the king has said he would stand in lieu of your father. If you wish.”

"Y-you really have thought of everything." It aches, that your own father never lived to see your wedding day. And that your godfather turned out to be the sort of man that you don't want anywhere near such a happy event. But Arthur? Over your time here he has taken on a very familial place in your heart. Sometimes filling that hole in your heart all too well when you were missing your parents most. That the king and queen should think so well of you and Zach that they have literally taken on the roles in this wedding that your parents should be filling is overwhelming in the best of ways. "I cannot possibly say how much that means to me, my lady. Truly. I...I lost my parents as a child, and the kindness you have both shown me since my arrival reminds me of them in ways I cannot fully explain."

There are tears in the Queen’s eyes, and she reaches over and drags you into a quick but fierce hug. “I am beyond happy that you find us to be a fond remembrance to your parents. They would have been proud of the woman you are.” She murmurs against your ear.

"I hope so." Crying in front of Guinevere was definitely not on the docket for today, but the seamstress is still buzzing around you and you're sure there are things left to discuss. Quickly wiping your eyes, you shake off the imminent waterworks and try to focus for a little bit longer. "I am sure there are more aspects of the day that I am not thinking of. American weddings do not seem to be so dissimilar, but our traditions are just slightly different. I would not want to accidentally overlook something that is important to Camelot's own traditions."

The queen taps her cheek thoughtfully. "Well, I am sure that you have the bedding ceremony, just like we do." She muses. "Although I don't think that will be an issue." There is small smile on her face when her eyes meet yours. "I know that when I married Arthur, my ladies’ maids wove heather into my hair and I wore the most beautiful lace veil." She tells you. "It's not tradition, but if you would like, I think the same would be lovely on you."

There is most definitely not a bedding ceremony, but at least you knew that was coming. There isn’t a single piece of medieval media that doesn’t portray the group of revelers waiting outside the newlywed’s chamber for evidence of consummation. But the heather does surprise you. “That would be exactly what Zachariah would want.” You know that, he said as much, but a veil will be even better. “You did not wear a crown when you became queen?”

Guinevere laughs and shakes her head. "Arthur and I were married in a field in front of the cliffs." She tells you. "We chose not to have crowns made because the previous winter had been very harsh and...." She shrugs slightly. "The gold was needed to trade for provisions in a war-ravaged country, not to sit on my head while babe's bellies are empty."

“A queen is mother to her entire kingdom.” You tell her gently, hoping you’re not overstepping your place. “And you have cared for them as such from the very beginning.”

Another soft expression of amazement is on her face when the queen smiles at you. "That is what I tell myself when I am melancholy for a babe." She has made peace with her fate to not have a child, but that did not mean she was immune from the very real emotions of dealing with it. "I can see why you and Sir Zachariah are such a match." She tells you. "You are both in possession of a gentle heart."

“He is an exceptional man.” You can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, every bit the blushing bride in the way you light up when you talk about him. “We are fortunate to be able to marry for love. It is…more usual where we come from, but still is not guaranteed.”

"Yes, it is rare." Guinevere loved Arthur, but not in that passionate - all-consuming way. "You are very fortunate, and it shall be another thing to celebrate on your wedding day."

“Your Majesty?” The seamstress, in all her infinite speed, has draped and pinned fabric across your body and looks to the queen now for her approval of the piece.

"Hmmm." Guinevere casts a critical eye over the way that the folds are laying, and she steps up to you. "How about it being just a bit tighter, underneath the bosom?" She asks, her eyes floating up to meet yours. "What do you think?" This is your dress and she wants you to love it.

"If you like it, then I love it." You're not the best judge of how things look on yourself but you feel like a princess and trust the queen's eye for design now that you've seen some of her immaculate drawings and sketches. "I-it's absolutely gorgeous."

"It will be once we have the overlay with the embroidery on it." She gives you a grin. "You will be a beautiful bride and then Sir Zachariah's surcoat will be dashing in its matching state."

"He will be astonished." There's so much about this that will delight Zach. You're absolutely sure of that. To give a man such happy things to look forward to after he has struggled with so much is all you can work toward. Zach deserves every good thing in life, and that's what you plan on giving him.

"Now the most important thing of any wedding is the feast." The queen jokes, sending you a grin. "The king and I will order barrels of wine and ale opened and there is another bard that will perform for you."

Chewing over the bits and pieces of American wedding traditions that you care for versus ones that you don't, and trying to account for things that might be on Zach's radar, your head quirks slightly in the queen's direction as the seamstress slips between you to fix the waist of the dress to be a bit more pronounced. "I wonder...my lady..." Deep breath. "There is a tradition, in America. During our wedding feasts, it is traditional for the bride and groom to share a dance with their parents." You really, really can't believe you're asking her this, but Arthur has literally offered to walk you down the aisle and Guinevere has practically adopted Zach, so it's worth the small chance. "I wonder if you and the king would be so kind as to share a dance with us. As a way of honouring your generosity."

"Oh." She loves the idea of that. She takes a deep breath and there is a suspicious misty glaze to the queen's eyes. "I will speak with the king, but I can most assuredly guarantee that he will be just as delighted as I am to say yes." She reaches out and grasps your hand gently. "You and I shall have to spend much more time together. While I may be queen, I still remember learning how to run a household." She tells you with a soft wink.

"A household of two is a much smaller task." And unlike medieval husbands, Zach won't expect you to do all the work yourself. You can't help but smile though, squeezing her hands back and appreciating - not for the first time - that Guinevere really does remind you of your own mother. Maybe it's the soft strength in her eyes, or the small smiles, but the memories are there. "But I will happily learn every lesson you have to teach."

"It might be smaller, but it is still something that can be daunting." Guinevere tells you with a smile. "Especially since the king still wants his bard preforming."

"I promise." As long as you live in Camelot, there is no other place you would rather be and nothing else you would rather do. And you're willing to bet there will be days, if you ever return to your own time, when you will dearly wish you were here again.

"Good." The seamstress steps back again and the queen looks over the changes. "Perfect. You will be the most beautiful bride Camelot has ever born witness to."

"Always excepting your Majesty." There will be no accidental insulting of royalty on your watch, not to mention you've seen the portrait of Arthur and Guinevere from when they were married many years ago and she is still every ounce as stunning still as she was then.

"You will beat even me." She tells you softly.

"Impossible." You shake your head and shift again where you stand as the seamstress instructs you, knowing that the circle of compliments could go round and around.

The queen clicks her tongue and huffs, seemingly agreeing with you that the two of you will continuously compliment each other. "We shall also have a gown made for you." She tells you with a grin. "For the bedding ceremony." She turns to the seamstress. "What is Sir Zachariah's favorite color on you?"

There is a slight moment of hesitation on your part where you almost admit that you don’t know, but a slightly more important question stands in its way. “If I might ask…” Because the answer now slightly worries you. “What precisely does this bedding ceremony entail? It is…it sounds very different from the version we have in America.” With no rice to throw and no car to drive off in for your honeymoon, there is just no way to even equate the two in your head. Although you are glad that something of the early honeymoon exists here, and you and Zach will be allowed a few weeks to sequester yourselves together after the wedding to get used to your new home.

"Well." The queen gives a knowing quirk of her eyebrow. "I know you are not worried about the actual act." She titters, giving a nod. "It is a good thing." She promises. "When it is time, a few of the women will join you in your chambers to help you get ready for your groom. There will be ribald jokes and we will put you to bed, while the king and the men will strip Sir Zachariah down to his hose and bring him to your chambers to join you." She pauses. "We will all drink to your health while you are in bed together and then we will leave you to consummate the marriage."

You nearly giggle at the thought of Zach being brought to you, but pause again with a small shake of your head. “It is different, but not especially so,” you tell the queen. “Forgive me for saying so, but I do not envy true royalty in requiring spectators to the act. Although I understand it in terms of the law.” Having read once in a history book about kings and queens having people literally in the room while marriages were consummated, and babies were born had made you exceptionally glad not to be a part of that culture.

There is a choked laugh and Guinevere shakes with mirth. "Arthur threatened them all until they left. Told them that they would not need to see his 'bare ass thrusting'." She giggles, remembering that night. "An angry, naked king with a sword will send people running."

The seamstress smiles knowingly and you barely manage to smother a snort of laughter. “I can truly believe that. And I believe my lord would feel much the same way.” Sex in the woods is one thing, but you can’t see Zach being okay with spectators.

"I have no doubt." She hums in approval. "Luckily, Arthur refuses to allow that sort of thing in Camelot. He feels that it's not necessary. We know who is in the room, and to be honest, there were too many that we have seen derive pleasure from an act that is meant to be between man and wife."

“There’s always someone.” Who knows why, but there’s always someone who will take advantage of a situation. Although in this case, you can’t claim to be too upset about it.

"Yes." She sucks her teeth slightly. "But there is nothing to fear. The king has removed that kind of issue and then after your wedding night, we will have you moved into your new home, but meals will be provided by the kitchens while the two of you...get acquainted."

You really do your best to look innocent when she says it, but still end up smiling a little too much. Neither you nor Zach has any intention of waiting another week for any kind of acquainting, as fully evidenced by this morning. “I’m sure I cannot have any idea what you mean.” It was never public knowledge that you were sleeping with Gareth and you certainly don’t want to straight out embarrass yourself in front of the Royal seamstress.

"Mhm." The queen chuckles and pats your hand. "I was young once." She says simply before she motions to the seamstress. "Do you think a gown of blue or dark green for the ceremony?"

“Blue, my lady.” The seamstress is already halfway across the room, pulling through bolts of fabric until she produces a light blue linen from a trunk like some beautiful hidden treasure. “To compliment the first gown, and it’s embroidery.”

She turns to you and lifts a brow, wanting. your input. "What do you think?" She asks.

“It’s beautiful.” You hate to point out that it won’t be on you for very long, and end up biting your lip a little. “I wonder…” It’s nothing big, and nothing presumptuous, but asking for anything under these circumstances makes you a little nervous. “For us…white is the traditional colour for a bride. Perhaps this second piece could be white?” Something in the back of your head is just certain that Zach would be disappointed if there was no white on your wedding day.

It surprises the queen but she nods. "If it is your tradition, we will absolutely include it." She gets an excited look on her face and snaps her fingers. "The lace!" She looks over at you and grins. "It is something that is quite sheer, but I cannot see Sir Zachariah protesting."

“No…” You shake your head and hiding your embarrassed smile behind one hand. “No, I don’t think he will mind in the least.”

The seamstress nods and takes away the blue fabric and there are a few moments of searching before she comes back with a bolt delicate sheer white lace. "This, your highness?"

Guinevere nods when the intricately patterned fabric is brought out, and you have a brief thought that it’s no wonder you’ve never seen anything like it in a museum - there’s no way something this delicate would survive. “Oh…” You practically gasp, trying to imagine what it would even look like as a dress, only able to think how ethereal it will feel. “It’s perfect…”

"It will be." The queen agrees. "Your Zachariah will be picking his jaw up off the floor when he sees you in this waiting for him in your marriage bed."

It’s a long way from typical wedding lingerie, but you don’t think he’ll mind at all. Not when it’s all so incredibly unique to the world that brought you together in the first place. “He will love it.” You pronounce happily. “Thank you. Both of you. For everything.”

"I have not had this much excitement and joy in a long time." Guinevere confesses, looking around. "I am thrilled to be allowed so much leeway. I had expected you to insist on something plain and ruin my fun."

“Truthfully, your Majesty?” You flush hot again as the seamstress begins painstakingly removing the pinned cloth of your wedding gown from your body. “I had no mind for any revelry. A simple hand fasting before God and the allowance of a few days in our new home to become accustomed to our new life. This is…beyond my wildest dreams. Truly.”

"Well, I am glad you are allowing me to take it over." She tells you with a happy sigh. "Please let me know if it's too much."

"I will," you nod. "But I believe that my fiancé deserves to have the best of everything, so I do not anticipate protests at all."

******

Zach hurries towards the hall. He had worked on the cradle until the last possible moment before he needed to meet you for dinner. It had been a productive day even if he was exhausted. After Gareth had left him, he had managed to get about half of the cradle put together. Taking his time and making sure that everything was fitted perfectly was important. A baby was going to be sleeping in the cradle and he wanted to make sure it was safe for the little one. He was also working with pieces that the former royal carpenter had already carved out. Since he wasn't the one that had made the cuts into the wood, it was like putting together a wooden jigsaw puzzle. Then had come to practice in the sparing ring with the knights. Just like he had expected, Gareth had not pulled any punches and he had been put through the ringer with each man taking a turn to teach him differing fighting styles so that he was not getting too comfortable with just one man's moves. After that, he had gone back to his workshop and finished putting the cradle together. At least it was done so he could start carving the details he wanted to add to the piece in exchange for the precious ring that the metalsmith was crafting him for you. It was important for him that he give you something that he had managed to provide himself.

Arriving for supper in the king and queen’s wake tonight means you’ve had no time to see Zach since he hurried away from breakfast this morning and you miss him. All you’ve done today is talk or think about it and it has worn down to your bones that you truly do feel like a piece of you is missing when he isn’t nearby. As always, the Great Hall falls quiet when Arthur and Guinevere approach, and you step into the room behind them slowly. Everything around them is done with some degree of ceremony, including walking into a room, so it would be a very bad idea to distract from them in any way. When you spot Zach across the room, though, you can feel your fingers itch and feet eager to move faster - just wanting to do anything by to be next to him.

The grin that he can't even stop slides onto his face when he sees you, not even noticing that Gareth has come to stand next to him. Not until an elbow nudges him and he grunts, only to realize that Queen Guinevere is motioning him over to them with a smile on her face.

“My apologies for keeping her to myself all day.” Guinevere is smiling almost as much as you and Zach are when he approaches and bows dutifully.

"No apologizes are necessary, your Majesty." Zach counters. "I was busy from the moment I left her side until just this moment."

“I am afraid I have claimed some of her time tomorrow as well.” Guinevere smiles at you sportingly and you grin, stepping from her side to Zach’s. “I look forward to it immensely,” you tell her honestly. “Just as I have looked forward to having supper beside my lord.”

"Our time is always yours, milady." Zach charms her with another smile. "I am sure there are numerous things that must be attended to in order for our wedding to be possible."

"Ahhh yes!" Arthur comes around Guinevere and claps Zach on the back. "As well as having a hunt!" He grins at Zach. "I know you are not skilled on a bow, so we will go easy on you. I am better with a sword myself."

“The hunt.” Your eyes turn up to Zach’s, somehow not realizing that he would be required to participate and knowing his stance on not ever wanting to kill again. He has never specified if that extended to survival. In Camelot, ceremony or not, hunting is survival. “Of course. How silly of me to have forgotten already.”

"I have to admit that it has been years since I have used a traditional bow." Zach tells the king. "I hunted with a crossbow in America." Modern crossbows were leagues apart from the medieval ones, but the theory was the same. At least growing up hunting with his father and his father's friends had paid off. He could say that he could hunt at least. "It shall be a great day."

That seems to mollify the king, and he nods happily before leading the queen to their seats at the head table. “Hey,” You whisper, grinning at Zach beside you.

"Hey baby." His hand rests on your back as he guides you over to the table. You are to sit next to the queen, and he couldn't be more proud of that as he guides you to your seat. "Did you have fun today?" He whispers as both of you sit down.

“Actually?” There’s a hint of surprise in your voice that you can’t deny. “I really did. We spent the entire day with the seamstress.” And in spite of the entire thing revolving around your appearance, you had truly enjoyed the company. “How is the cradle coming along?”

"It is completely put together and ready to start the finishing details." Zach tells you. "Carving."

“That’s good, right?” You seem to remember he wanted to be farther along and reach over to squeeze his hand. “There’s time, love.”

"That's okay." Zach gives you a small shrug before he leans closer. "Gareth came to speak to me this morning. He was waiting outside the workshop when I got there."

“Oh shit…” You cringe slightly, glancing quickly over at the queen, but she is listening to Arthur talk about his day. “What happened? Are you okay?” Physically, you know he can take care of himself. But mentally, you wish you had been there.

"It was...actually okay." He reassures you, reaching for your hand under the table. "He was jealous and wanting to be angry, but he left being the best man?" He tells you with a small chuckle and lifting a brow at you. "So, make of that what you will."

“He what?” Nearly choking on a sip of wine, you squeeze his hand a little harder. “That’s…highly unexpected.”

"I didn't expect it either." He admits, looking around the king and queen to watch Gareth start to eat. "But he is aware that I love you and I am very aware that if I don't treat you like my own queen, I will face the wrath of Gareth Pendragon."

“I’d rather be treated like your wife.” It’s a small reminder that you’re the only two people in this entire castle and (maybe even the kingdom who) who view spouses as equal partners, and once again you’re grateful to have someone from your own time by your side. “But I’m glad you figured things out? Since I’m assuming you wouldn’t have asked him to be your best man unless things are okay?”

"I think he was a little frustrated I didn't give him an opportunity to take a swing at me, but he got his licks in at the sparing ring." He tells you with a chuckle.

“I guess that proves men haven’t changed in fifteen-hundred years.” Snickering slightly, you shake your head and bring his knuckles up to your lips to kiss gently. Almost apologizing to them for taking that licking. “That’s okay, though. Our wedding party got doubly bizarre today.”

"Oh yeah?" He cocks his head to the side and sends you a searching look. "That means you had something bizarre too."

“Guess who volunteered to walk me down the aisle?” Honestly, you still can’t even believe it. It’s too fucking surreal.

His brow furrows for a split second before his eyes flicker over to Arthur and then he looks back at you. "No shit?" He huffs in disbelief. "You are being walked down the aisle by the king?" He asks, chuckling when you nod. "Jesus, no wedding we ever have in LA would beat this."

“Apparently their majesties had a long conversation about our nuptials last night.” You stifle a disbelieving giggle. “Tomorrow I’m supposed to spend the day picking out jewelry to borrow from the queen while my dresses - plural - are being made.”

Zach's brow shoots up and he nearly drops his wing goblet. "You— you are borrowing royal jewels?" He has, nearly choking on the words. He shakes his head and gives you a grin. "I don't know what the hell we did to make these people like us like they do."

“And there won’t be a single picture.” You groan softly. “Imagine putting that photo on the mantle.”

Zach huffs. "Talk about the irony of having the best story you can never share."

“Right?” You huff as servants start to bring food into the Hall. “Even when I was little and did imagine getting married in a castle, it was never this good.”

"We will just have to remember every moment of our wedding day." He hums, bringing your hand up to kiss the back of it.

“I won’t have any problem with that.” You haven’t forgotten a single minute with him since you met. There’s no way a second of your wedding day will escape your mind. “I hope you like everything we picked out today…it was kind of a lot, and your suit is going to match my dress, so I really hope you like it…”

"I will love everything that you've picked out." He promises. "I would be happy with me, you and a priest but this...this is magical."

“I love you.” Giving his hand one more gentle squeeze before you let it go, you bask happily in the feeling of knowing that feeling and being so sure of it.

"I love you too." He turns his attention to dinner, starving after everything he had done today. he starts filling the trencher with food for both you and him, the king and queen sharing one tonight.

The meal passes uneventfully into an hour or so of music, and by the time Arthur leaves the hall signaling the end of the night, you can see just how tired Zach is as well. “C’mon, babe.” You hum in his ear, when you reappear at his side in the emptying Hall. “Let’s go upstairs.”

"That sounds like a plan." He mumbles, knowing that he still has to bathe off before he gets into the bed. He had sweat too much today not to. His hand wraps around your waist and he presses his lips to your forehead.

“You gonna be able to climb the stairs?” It’s only half teasing, since you know how hard he works, and you slip your arm around his waist for support.

He huffs and purses his lips at you. "I'm good." He says smugly. "I held my own. Just tired baby, not sore."

"Not going after your manhood." You smirk back at him. "Just seeing if I need to be tracking down Ava to set you up with a bath before bed."

"I at least need a bucket of water." He admits. "I am not getting in bed all sweaty." He smirks. "Not getting sweaty after I get in bed is on the table."

"You head upstairs, and I'll find Ava." It's the least you can do, hating momentarily that you can't just turn on the tap for him and fill up a tub big enough for the two of you to get into together.

"Okay." He agrees and squeezes your waist before he lets you go to make his way to your room. He smiles when he realizes his trunk was moved over today.

You find Ava in the next hallway over, blushing profusely while she talks to Gareth's squire Cailan by a window. Gently clearing your throat, you grin knowingly when Cailan practically struts away leaving the young woman to curtsy apologetically. "I didn't mean to interrupt," you apologize for your own part, seeing the hearts in the girl's eyes. She seems to be doing just fine getting over her little crush on Zach and you're happy to see it. "I only wondered if you could draw a bath in my chamber, please. It would be most appreciated."

******

Zach removes his surcoat and tunic and boots by the time you return. "Is she bringing a bucket?" He asks, happy to see you back in the room. He's missed you today.

"She'll be up with the bath water in a few minutes." Alone at last, you don't waste a single second before putting your arms around his neck and dragging him down for a kiss.

He hums and eagerly kisses you back, arms coming around you. "You didn't." Kiss "Have to." Kiss "Do that." He tells you between kisses. "A bucket." Kiss "And a rag." Kiss "Would have worked."

"But." You giggle when he cuts you off with another kiss. "You look so sexy." And another. "In the bath."

He huffs and sighs. "You are spoiling me." He tells you, secretly loving it.

"And you deserve it." With your arms still wrapped tightly around his neck, you press a much slower kiss to his lips, smiling against him when he groans and shudders a little.

"I love you so much." Zach mutters against your lips, amazed that you are still here in his arms. There is a knock and Zach smiles, knowing that Ava is so respectful of your private space.

"Come in." You quickly peck his lips once more before stepping away to busy yourself with taking off your jewelry while Ava totes the hot water inside.

"Thank you, Ava." Zach tells the girl as she come in and sets the bucket down so she can roll the wooden tub in front of the fireplace. "You won't need to empty it tonight." He promises her, knowing it will still take several more trips to the kitchen to get the water. "You can leave it for tonight and find your own bed after this."

"Very good, my lord." She curtsies quickly before leaving the room again for the second pail she brought up. Ava is sweet and kind and honestly, you're glad to have someone looking after Zach who doesn't resent the assignment. A year with Aisling made you feel like the worst person in the world sometimes.

Zach comes over to you and starts to pull at the laces of your gown, untying them. "Are you going to bathe too?" He asks softly, kissing your neck. “You want to slip in before me?” He wasn’t going to ask you to get in with him. Not wanting to have you bite your lip and get that uneasy look on your face.

"I'm okay." You shake your head just a little, not wanting to discourage him from the moment of affection. "Standing in one place for the seamstress all day wasn't exactly sweaty work."

“‘M’kay.” He hums, trailing his lips along your shoulder while his hands push more fabric away so he has more skin to kiss. “So, after Ava leaves, you strip down and tell me what you thought the first time you saw me in this bath.”

You mock-gasp playfully, giggling again when he kisses the sensitive skin under your ear. "My lord, those thoughts would be improper to share aloud."

“That’s exactly why you should.” He growls in your ear to make you shiver. “I thought about how I would love to see you naked. Have you strip out of your dress and touch me while I was in the bath.”

"Fuck..." Letting yourself sink against him is so easy, and you nip gently at the long column of his throat. "It was so hard not to look when you were in the water..." In all honesty, you had felt guilty about it at the time, but something about Zach had pulled you in like a magnet right from the beginning.

Ava has left and come back twice more, all while you and Zach are whispering and exchanging kisses. “I am finished milord.” Zach turns away from you to find Ava gesturing to the bath. “There is an extra bucket of cool water. Goodnight sir.”

“Goodnight Ava, sleep well.” Zach nods to her and gives her a smile of thanks.

"Thank you, Ava." You manage to add just before she closes the door behind her, and you sigh heavily. "Alone at last."

He laughs and steps away from you playfully to strip his leather breeches down. “Take off your clothes baby.” He coos with a wink before he shows you his back and walks to the tub.

"So you can stare at me while you're all hot and wet and naked?" You raise an eyebrow at him even as you reach for the hem of your dress.

“Fuck yes.” He has zero shame when he turns back around, and his cock is already swelling at the thought. “I don’t have to try to hold back a hard on.”

"God, baby." The gorgeous sight of him naked makes you move that much faster, leaving your dress and chemise laying on the trunk at the end of your bed. "You are unfairly sexy, you know that?"

“Not as sexy as you are.” He’s folding his legs up so he can sit down, eager to clean up and touch you. “Don’t even argue.” He warns, eyes dark as they take you in. “C’mere beautiful.”

It only takes a few steps to get to him, and you pull the little footstool away from the chair in the corner of the room so you can sit beside the tub while he soaks. "One day we're going to have to get a really big tub," you muse happily, trailing your fingers through the hot water.

“I agree with that completely.” Zach tells you quickly. “Being in the bath with you is a fantastic idea.”

"Hot springs...bath...hot tub...bathtub...heated pool...basically any warm body of water big enough for us both to be in together." Leaning forward, Zach is a magnet once again as you find his lips for a kiss. "Private Caribbean beach with no one else around so we can lay around for as long as we want?"

There is something about you or about this place that gives Zach a confidence he hasn’t had since before that last fateful deployment. The one that just tipped him over the edge of the man he used to be to the man he was the day transported to Camelot. It was so fucking easy with you it was almost scary, how quickly you held his heart and squeezed it gently in your soft hands. The love, affection, and kindness that he had craved for years all wrapped up in a sexy woman who was possibly the most amazing person he had ever met. “Mhm yes.” Zach reaches out of the water, abandoning the rag and his soap to touch you. “Definitely want to wash every inch of you in a shower. Get on my knees in front of you.” He smirks against your lips.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one in that position?” You pout at him entirely for affect.

“Oh, I thought that was part of it?” He teases playfully. “The lord relaxing in his bath, teasing the woman washing him.” He smirks, fingers trailing up your thighs. “Getting her ready for him.”

Squirming slightly where you sit, you can feel your whole body flush hot when you pick up the cloth that he has tossed aside in the tub and start to run it over his legs moving toward his torso. The little fantasy - and the fact that he even wants you to be a part of it - is sweet and gentle like he is.

His eyes flutter closer even as his finger reach your already hot core. “Baby,” He groan, sliding them through your curls. “You are wet.”

“You see what kissing you does to me?” You open your legs for him that much more, granting him all the access he could ever want. Honestly all he has to do is touch you and you’re wet, but kissing him is like opening the flood gates in your pussy.

He hums and swirls his fingers around your clit. “Just like just thinking about you gets me hard.”

A gasp escapes you and your hips jolt slightly, not expecting such a direct assault on your little bundle of nerves. Feeling slightly emboldened by it, you also let the washcloth go in the water, reaching out to wrap your smaller fingers around his half-hard length. “Oh, it does, does it?”

“Jesus.” His dick twitches in your hand, an automatic response to your touch. “It does baby.” He promises. “You could make a dead man hard.”

You can’t help but giggle a little, loving to tease him and getting that tiny ego boost from the way he responds to you. “Technically, neither of us have been born yet, so I guess that’s actually a little true.”

He snorts and the water sloshes over the edge slightly when he instinctively moves his hips, chasing your hand when you stroke up. “Okay, fuck baby.” He slips his fingers just insider your walls while his thumb presses against your clit.

“God—” Your own body responds in kind, legs falling open completely and hips rolling forward to press into his hand while your chest tightens in anticipation. “You have the most amazing hands.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He teases, making sure to keep his fingers working. “All for you.”

That sense of possessiveness isn’t something you’re used to. Always having been in relationships that were open ended meant that no one had ever been yours before, even when you had made yourself completely theirs. The reality rips through you like a shock to your system until you’re desperately pushing forward, steadying your other hand on the side of the tub while you kiss him. “I’m yours, too,” you promise him breathlessly, as if there had ever been a doubt.

“Fuck yes baby.” He murmurs against your lips, caught up in the way that your gasps feel. “Cum for me.” He could just make sure you were pleasured all the time, loving the way you look and respond to him.

It’s the easiest request you’ve ever taken, as his deft fingers stroke through your folds, pressing into you and dragging moans out of you whenever they recede. Your hands on his arm tightened as your legs start to shake, heralding the first orgasm of the night like a sunburst.

Zach could stay right here, all night. Just watching your face contort in pleasure. One day, he’s going to see how long he can make your orgasms last, how far he can overstimulate you. When he doesn’t have to worry about others hearing, he will make it his mission.

“Zach.” The way you whine his name should be criminal, with your eyes hazy from pleasure. “Wash up, baby, please? I need you.”

Huffing, he reluctantly pulls his fingers away. “Yes ma’am.” He makes sure you are watching when he slips his cum soaked fingers in his mouth, moaning when he tastes you on them.

“You’re going to kill me.” You protest weakly as you push your stool back into place so you can climb into bed. The further away you are, the faster he’ll move - you hope.

“So impatient.” He teases, grabbing the rag you abandoned and starts quickly washing. He’s eager to join you, wanting to make love to you before he passes out.

“You take as long as you need to.” The tone in your voice is teasing and mildly plotting. “I’ll just start without you.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” He hisses, eyes narrowing on you in the bed.

“I wouldn’t?” You settle back against your pillow, sighing dramatically and situating your hands between your legs under the blankets in a way he can’t mistake. It doesn’t matter that it’s completely for show and you’re not actually touching yourself, that’s part of the tease. The feral little growl he makes causes you to giggle. It’s probably the fastest he has ever cleaned up, including when he had five minutes to ‘shit, shower and shave’ in boot camp. “Feeling left out?” You giggle even harder when he tears back the blankets and finds your hand nowhere near your clit.

“Witch.” He gripes at you affectionately. “Good girl.” He is already climbing up in the bed with you. His cock is fully hard, and he wraps his hand around himself. “Or maybe I should just jerk off?” He asks, starting to slowly stroke himself. “Just let you watch?”

“Maybe I like to watch?” It’s just as much of a bluff as the idea that you would start without him. Watching him get himself off would only make you ache.

“Oh yeah?” Zach gives you a shit eating grin and takes his hand off his length to spit in it before he touches himself again. “Okay, watch.”

“No, no!” You practically jump forward, still giggling as you crush your lips to his and wrap your hand around his gorgeous cock in turn. “I was bluffing! I was bluffing!”

His answering laugh is slightly mean, puffing out against your lips. “Me too.” He moans when you squeeze him. “Nothing feels as good as you.” He murmurs, happy you can play like this. As much as he loves serious sex, there is something to be said for playful.

“Why do you think I’m not going to bother fingering myself for the rest of my life?” Why would you even bother, when his fingers are so much thicker and more talented?

He’s answering grin is both wicked and boyish. “Why don’t you lay back then and let me slide inside you?”

Your hum of agreement morphs into a moan as you settle back and let him between your legs. “I’m marrying the perfect man,” you croon happily.

“That’s good, because divorce isn’t around for another thousand years.” He jokes, leaning in and kissing you softly before he gets himself lined up to slip inside your warmth.

“Wouldn’t d-dream - oh god - of it, baby.” Now that you have him in your life, you can’t even imagine facing the rest of it without him. The year 498 or otherwise. Camelot or otherwise. Marriage or otherwise. This is the man you would choose every time.

He holds himself up over you, slowly rolling his hips and keeping his eyes on you. “I love you.” He whispers, meaning it more than ever.

“I love you, baby.” The comforting, now-familiar bulk of Zach’s broad shoulders and soft eyes above you make his slow pace unmistakably more intimate. Every roll and thrust of his hips hits something brilliant inside you that genuinely makes you wonder why you ever bothered sleeping with anyone else if someone as perfect as Zach has always been out there waiting for you. “So fucking much.”

“6 more days.” He hums, grinning happily against your mouth when he leans down to kiss you again. “Then you will be Lady Wellison.”

The fact that he’s so excited makes you melt. So many other men would have considered this some kind of trap. Too fast and too odd and too everything to be appealing. They would have simply left. Not this man. Not your Zach. He has run head-first into the whirlwind with you - sometimes even leading the way. “Fastest wedding in history,” you joke into his kiss, knowing it isn’t true but loving how right it feels.

He chuckles, hips rocking steadily. “Not quite.” He knows you are joking but he is truly enamored with all of this. It’s crazy and chaotic and something that he knew you would never be able to truly tell anyone but it was real and raw. “No cigar just yet.”

“Just don’t know how I got so lucky.” That admission, mumbled into his neck as he drives into you just a little faster, is quiet and you know he can hear how choked up you are. How intensely you feel about this whole situation. How honestly sure of him you are.

“I’m lucky.” He insists, ducking his head down and kissing your shoulder. “I’m the lucky one baby. You are perfect.” He will always think that, just completely amazed by you.

“We can both be lucky.” The idea of anyone thinking they’re fortunate to have you boggles the mind, but Zach is the only person in the world you’ve ever believed.

“Yes we can, we are.” He moves to his elbow, hand reaching up to cup your cheeks, his forehead against yours while he moves inside you.

You can feel the tingle run down your spine as you shift, rolling your hips up to wrap your legs around his waist so every thrust hits that much deeper inside you. “Oh fuck…” The curse is harsher than the perfect pleasure of him throbbing inside you, but you’re so close that full sentences are failing.

"Come on, baby." He shuffles his hips forward harshly, thankful that the beds made for the fifth century were sturdy and didn't knock against the stone walls of the castle. "Give it to me." He demands.

There’s a desperation to it that you can’t deny - both of you so needy for each other that his name on your lips is a prayer as you fall apart for him. Your fingernails bite into his back, instead of leaving marks now that he’s really yours. Zach groans, deep from the pit of his stomach and his entire body reacts to your orgasm. Eyes fluttering closed and his own lips part with your name rushing out like a fervent prayer, only managing one more thrust before he's pulling out of you. Gasping and shuddering over you while his warmth paints your skin.

You can’t help it, giggling a little at the endorphin rush of a deep orgasm and the pure pleasure on Zach’s face. Stretching up, you drop kisses on his forehead, nose, and lips. “I love you,” you remind him softly. As many times as you ever say it, it will never lose an ounce of meaning.

"Love you too." He kisses your lips and then your forehead. "Let me get the rag and clean you up." He hates pulling away, but he wants to wrap his arms around you and fall asleep now.

“I miss birth control.” You pout when he pulls away, feeling unnaturally cold without his warmth surrounding you. “Just not having to have you pull out? Have you fall asleep inside me every night instead? That sounds like heaven.”

Zach groans and brings the cloth over to clean you up and wipes you clean before he cleans himself up again. "God yes." He throws you a pained look. "Always wanted to do that, but never asked anyone because I was afraid of being thought weird."

“I find it weirdly comforting.” Using his own word in something positive on purpose, you shift over under the covers so he can climb in beside you. “One day. When we get birth control back.” Or when kids inevitably happen, but you’re not going to bring that up.

"Hey." He thought about something you had told him the first day he was in Camelot. He blows out the candle and the room is bathed in the light from the fireplace, romantic and practical. "You said that Merlin, uh, helped those that he liked." He tells you quietly. "Why not ask him? Say we don't want kids right away?"

“You think?” He wraps his arms around you when he gets close, letting you nuzzle into his side with a sigh before you find his eyes again in the firelight. “You think it would be actual magic and not just some fifth century herbal concoction?”

"How many accidental pregnancies have you seen the past year?" He asks softly.

“A few.” You admit, chewing on the thought. “But…you’re right. None from that brothel.”

"It might be worth it to ask Merlin." He encourages you. He holds you for just a moment longer before he decides to voice his concerns. "I'm still...worried about what having a child here can do for the future."

“I know.” You nod a little against his chest. It’s one more thing that he’s completely right about that stings. “As much as is love to see you as a dad, you’re right.”

"Maybe after the wedding, we talk to Merlin?" He asks hesitantly. He isn't wanting to argue, but he did love the idea of you pregnant and round with his child at some point. If it wasn't possible to get home, he would live his life out here with you happily, but he wanted to know.

“That’s probably best.” It’s not that you don’t think about going home. The creature comforts and the peace of mind in no longer meddling with the timeline. It’s that you don’t want Arthur and Guinevere to think you’re ungrateful now, for everything they’ve done and are continuing to do. “Just so we know.”

"We will be cautious." He promises you. Not wanting you to worry about making waves. "But for now, talk to Merlin about birth control so I can sleep inside of you after we married."

“Six days.” The promise of how soon the wedding is makes you shiver happily in his arms. “I can’t wait.”

"Did you have a good time with the queen?" He asks softly. "She seemed like she was in a fantastic mood."

“She’s definitely using us as surrogates for the fact that she has no children.” You tell him honestly. It’s a little sad, since you know every legend says she dies childless - but screw it. You’re an orphan who always wished she could have her mom to plan her wedding with. So everyone here has a surrogate family member in some way. “She has all these big plans and said she was afraid we were going to object and just want something small. It’s actually very sweet.”

"I want you to have what you want and if that is to have Queen Guinevere plan a medieval wedding, I love it." He offers with a smile and kiss on your neck. "I love this memory we will have."

“Baby, I told you. All I need is you.” Returning the sweet gesture lets you cuddle even close to his chest. “But if the Queen of Camelot wants to throw us a giant fancy wedding, I am not saying no.” You squirm slightly, wondering what he’ll think of the one real request you made of the queen today. “I did, though…I did ask for one American thing…in all of it. And if you don’t want to do it, I totally get it. But it felt right to ask.”

"What's that?" He's not going to say no. Not when it's something that you want and if you were in LA you would be asking for. He would do anything you wanted.

“I asked Guinevere if she and Arthur would share a dance with us. In place of the mother/son and father/daughter dance…” You duck your head so you can’t see if he’s upset or not. If he thinks it’s too much. “Since Arthur is walking me to the church, and they’re providing everything for us, I thought it would be a nice way of honouring them.”

"I— I love that idea." He admits, nodding and giving you a smile. "It's fitting and very thoughtful. They have been amazing, and I feel close to them. Like they are family."

“I hoped you’d like it.” Tipping your head back, you place a kiss on the little patch in his stubble that never seems to fill in. It’s your favourite part of his facial hair by far.

He pouts at you, knowing you are pointing out his lack of ability to grow a full beard. "Hey."

“It’s cute!” You insist, giving it another kiss. “It’s my favourite part. All cute and smooth and begging to be kissed.”

Huffing, he's glad that the slight darkness hides his blush. "Yeah yeah." He grumbles slightly and turns to kiss you.

You wrinkle your nose at him in the dim firelight. “If you get to love all the weird stuff about my body that I hate, I get to love all the things you hate about yours.”

"There is not one fucking weird thing about your body." He argues. "Name one."

“How about the little triangle birthmark in my ear?” As little as the mark is, it always annoyed you. Who has a mark inside their ear?

"Cute, not weird." He corrects you. "And you like the freckles on my ass."

“The freckles on your ass are adorable and I will die on that hill.” Everything about him is adorable until it crosses over into being sexy. Either way, there’s nothing but goodness there.

"Please." He rolls his eyes. "I'm still waiting on the weirdness." He tells you, his hand cupping your generous stomach, pulling you back against him. "Not damn inch of your body and prove me wrong."

“Fine. Weird was the wrong word.” You concede with a huff. “But my point still stands, since you’re currently groping one of the things I hate most.”

"That we both love each other, and I love this softness." His fingers caress your skin reverently. "I love every soft, silky, beautiful inch of you." He promises. "Here in Camelot, back in LA, I would find you gorgeous."

“Well I’m glad one of us likes it, because I tried a million things to get rid of it but it’s still hanging on.” You squeak when he accidentally tickles you, wrinkling your nose again in another grin. “You’re the perfect combination of soft and strong and I love it.”

"I'm not that soft." He counters. "Although I'm still getting used to knowing where the next meal is coming from." He admits quietly.

“Soft lips and cheeks and snuggles.” And a little softness around his middle now that he’s eating regularly. You’ve noticed he put on a few pounds from training and three square meals a day and he looks so much happier and healthier. “You’re never going to have to worry again, baby. I promise you that.”

He hums and tighten his hold on you. "And honestly...you are soft all over." He breaths against your neck. "What dumb fucker doesn't like this feeling?" He asks as he starts to press his body closer to you.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” The list of people who have tried to cure and fix you is long and while your own name appears there several times, it definitely also includes almost every past lover.

"Yes, I do." He huffs, wanting to kick every single one of their asses for making you feel insecure about your body when you should be having mere mortal men worshiping at your feet.

“Almost everyone I’ve ever slept with.” It more than stings. It aches and you turn over on to your back so he doesn’t have to touch you. “My godparents. My college roommates who tried to get me on every trendy diet. Every booking agent and talent scout who told me that they wouldn’t hire a singer the size of two women.” Staring at the ceiling, you swallow back the embarrassed, burning tears. “Should I keep going?”

He's angry for you, heartbroken but he knows how cruel people could be. Has been on the receiving end of comments. Being called a drug addict when he only ever smoked weed like three times in high school. Or being told that he was a waste of space for being so goddamn in his own head that he could manage to function in society. He reaches for you, turning you back towards him as he leans up on his elbow. You won't look at him, and he hates it, but he wants to make you laugh. It's slightly crude and maybe too lighthearted for the moment but he's hoping you will at least give him a smile. "Fuck those people. They obviously have no taste." He spits out, rolling his eyes. "Who the fuck doesn't love a woman who's entire body feels like a titty? Fucking idiots, that's who."

You snort, huffing a half-laugh in spite of the tears in your eyes, and shake your head. “People are bullshit. That’s a universal truth.”

"Baby...." He sighs and leans in to nudge his nose against your cheek. "I am never going to make light of your body issues and I'm not going to tell you to 'get over them'." He promises softly. "But I am going to tell you that you are wrong because you are exactly what I want, and I think you know by now that I am beyond attracted to you."

Hesitantly, your eyes come up to find his gazing down at you with such sweet softness that you swear you can feel a few threads of your heart knit back together again from where all the others had broken it. “I’ll never make light of where we live. Or how we put food on the table. Or nightmares or fireworks or any other triggers. But I swear to you you’re never going to have to worry about any of it ever again. You’re not alone anymore, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

He swears that in that moment he falls a little bit more in love with you. Your complete understanding and acceptance of his issues is no small thing. It was amazing that you would just so willingly highlight his issues and provide - not a solution - but a promise that you would just stick with him. “I love you. So fucking much." He murmurs, whispering your name before he kisses you, showing you the depth of those feelings.

"I love you, too." Every day - every hour - it seems to grow and grow, and you find yourself breathing so much easier because of it. Warmed through to the very bone with just how much more complete you feel with him beside you.

He smiles and can't help but hum as your words give him that sense of peace that he loves when he hears them. "Let's go to sleep baby." He urges you, the long day starting to weigh on him and he wants nothing more than to hold you.

"Promise you'll wake me up if you need to?" He hasn't had any nightmares in your bed yet, but you've heard him through the wall a few times. The shouts and telltale signs of nightmares that only soldiers seem to have.

“I slept really well last night, but—” he nuzzles his nose against your neck and kisses the soft skin over your pulse. “I’ll wake you up if I need you.”

"Close your eyes, then, love." You turn your head to kiss the nearest bit of his skin that you can and settle down with his chest as your pillow. "And sweet dreams."

“Good night, baby.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes already starting to close as his body relaxes with his arms around you.

 ______

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