#leon just wants arthur to stop being so reckless

[geekys-corner]

Mind listing the OCs/personas and a couple facts about them? (Might help with questions lol)

Sure! I’ve written 16 below lmao *sticks in a read more*

Anthony - Originally my version of Anti, he’s now a sweet bean who really likes plants. In his backstory and the start of his story, he was found in a tiny pocket dimension inside his old apartment while he and the place around him fell into disrepair with the only thing truly alive being his plants. After losing his entire family, he was very fragile and hurt himself quite a bit, but my other characters rescued him and nursed him back to health and stability!

Onyx - My angsty punk dude who I adore. He is on the autistic spectrum and is mostly non-verbal, once going 4 months without speaking before breaking the silence to tell his best friend that Viggo Mortenson broke his toe in that one scene in Lord of the Rings. They have a twin sister who is 13 minutes older and a firm witch while he is a firm nonbeliever. Sometimes he goes to the junkyard with a baseball bat to let out their anger.

Leon - His backstory is very dark so I won’t get into it, but he’s a very shy bean with one arm and a love for sewing. He has the fluffiest light pink hair, and is just the embodiment of pastel.

Kyle - The older brother of the duo! He’s friends with Onyx and also has a punk look with spiked blue hair, but he’s an absolute sweetheart! He’s eight years older than his brother, and ran away with him when he was a newborn to escape their abusive mother. He raised Joey on his own in the streets, escaping care systems that would split them apart and shove them in to foster homes, and grew up to be completely independent, albeit unaware of what it is like to have a loving family besides his brother. He may be quick to resort to fight or flight to protect his brother and grumpy to strangers, but he’s built them a good life!

Joseph - The little brother! Joey is a smart little kid, (ranging from 10 - 14 depending) with very bright ginger hair and freckles. He’s on the far side of the autistic spectrum and is completely nonverbal, but he’s very expressive, spunky, and loving whenever he’s able to. He adores peanut butter and milkshakes, and would very happily have them six times a day. While he can’t speak, he will send Kyle countless facts from astronomy or marine life through text at any time of day or night. He’s always seen in his blue skateboarding frog hoodie, a beetle backpack filled with his supplies, and his headphones and tablet. He loves to draw and he’s great at it, and always draws sharks, especially whale sharks.

Caelan - Another punk, but this time in bird form. He is a griffin, and in some AUs a dude with prosthetic feet. He has messy blond hair covering his eyes and is based around an Egyptian falcon. He’s very quick witted and very annoying to people who don’t know him, but would go to hell and back for his family. 

Marioma - The model of a modern major general- this dude is the only one like him, meaning he has no AU counterparts! He’s different from my other characters since he’s technically self-aware, and acts in my stories if and when I want him to! He’s a grumpy, determined dude who’s trying to quit smoking per request of his boyfriend, Arthur. Before him, he was a sly, hardened, and cunning man who needed someone to rely on who wouldn’t die on him.

Arthur - Foster fails: 5. He owns a bookstore in the universe he inhabits and, just like Mari, he’s one of a kind! He lives the ideal rainy city aesthetic, with an apartment above his store with open windows, plants, cosy blankets and homemade food, handmade clothing, and animals. He’s got curly hair and his scarf is his comfort item, and he takes in animals if and when he can. He and Mari just live a comfortable life :’)

Clyde - A duo with Anthony, he was originally a version of Henrik, but is now completely different. This boy is a classic OC and therefore my teenage angst punching bag. He’s a doctor in his husband Lucas’ mafia, and is very strong-willed and the biggest sweetheart. He has water powers that I always forget about, and could very easily drown someone if he wanted to. Besides that, he does cry a lot over small things, and Lucas has walked in on him crying over their cat in a business-tie.

Levi - If he and Clyde fused, they’d make Henrik. He’s my 55 year old doctor who just the embodiment of grumpy cat and expresso. He’s very lanky and has joint problems after trauma in his late 20s, and sometimes you can hear his bones cracking as he walks. He has, can, and will slap the sense into Clyde when he needs to and hated him to begin with, but warmed up to him. But, he’s completely different to his husband Sage, and in the end, is a very caring guy who won’t take any shit. He’s also therapist, and gives sessions to most of my OCs- (he’s also the doctor at the end of Don’t Leave! Dr Allison!)

Tyrell (Cloak) - So I split the same OC into two halves, essentially from two AUs but in one? They’re not twins, they’re the same guy with separate families but they’re the same. They’re both POC with the same face, hair texture etc. Cloak-Ty is very grumpy, and is called Cloak because of the cloak he wears in his fantasy-based AUs! He wears an eye patch and lost his eye depending on the AU, and went through a lot. You can tell he’s angsty because half of his hair is buzzed off. He tried to push away his now-husband Demitri, but luckily he’s an absolute himbo who doesn’t know when to quit, and eventually melted through the icy layer to a loving, sarcastic, hard-working man.

Tyrell (Ponytail) - Same as above description wise! He’s taller and buff with a ponytail. He went through the same backstory, but was found by Daniel who took him to Lucas’ mafia where they recovered together and eventually fell in love. Half of his face is badly burned and the eye has pin-hole vision, but it doesn’t stop him from being the best sniper on the team. When at home, he loves tea, hanging with his family, and painting. He’s amazing at watercolour and earns money on the side from selling his work! Sometimes he and Dan team up and draw together!

Bloodbranded:

Wayde - He lives in the Winter Forest Region and hunts for his family with his exceptional archery skills. He’s witty and pretty spontaneous, making him good under pressure, but incredibly reckless. He has a bad claw scar across his right eye which cuts into his hair, but he can see just fine! He has beautiful green eyes with central heterochromia, so they turn brown in the centre. While he may be annoying and hot-headed, he cares a whole bunch and grows as a person to fall in love with Milo. He’s a hopeless romantic and protective as all hell, even when Milo can handle himself just fine.

Felicity - She wasn’t born in the WFR like Wayde, she was adopted by her two mothers and is Wayde’s cousin! She’s a POC with beautiful dark skin, and her parents style her hair in unique braids that are decorated by gold rings. She’s a magic user and a very skilled one at that, even when she’d just started out, and wishes to revive the old form of magic that had been taken over by the modern, corrupted magic form that’s based entirely on nepotism. She uses a staff and a book, and is clumsy to start out, but soon becomes a mage to be admired, or feared if you’re an enemy!

Milo - Unlike Felicity and Wayde, he was born in the desert region, and ends up in the WFR by mistake (which is a vast change in temperature for him). Because of the contrast in temperature, he’s always wrapped up in winter clothes, even in places where the others are sleeveless, just because he’s spent his whole life in the heat! When he’s at home, he lives with his Mother and goes out to collect lightning glass after the nightly storms to sell and turn into jewellery or windows etc. Milo was born deaf and uses sign language to communicate. He’s smart, energetic, and excited to see new things, but can handle himself with ease, and knows how to take care of himself through quick thinking and fighting skills from living in the desert. When he and Wayde start dating, he likes coming up behind him and cuddling him or giving him quick kisses!

Prism - Much like their name, they are very colourful. They are a dragon hybrid and live in a kingdom of others like them, but unlike any other dragon, their scales are - like their name - prisms. They gradient between rainbows across their body, but each scale has a rainbow shimmer when they move. Their wings are like stained glass, and their hair (as of now, it might change) is like labradorite! Prism is mute and doesn’t express much, usually communicating through eye rolls. They live as the King’s new heir after he took them in as he believes Prism is the symbol of their kingdom and species’ beauty. Because of this, they are completely untouched by any blade and don’t have a single blemish or scar as to preserve them. Many guards have died to prevent them from obtaining even the slightest scratch. Beyond their anxiety, they join the crew and act as the voice/sign of reason! Even if they are assigned to their kingdom, they soon learn that their friends truly care about them more than their appearance.

That’s most of my OCs, this is already super long so I don’t want to drag it on! If anyone is interested in any OC, feel free to drop an ask, I’d love to write one shots or answer questions! <3 ^^

[inkwell1013]

Hungering for Friendship - Merlin

Pairing: Merlin & Arthur (platonic), Merlin & various knights (also platonic).

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: This fic includes a character struggling with food related trauma and includes mentions of death (specifically death by starvation), though it is not graphic and more passingly mentioned.

Summary: Merlin is used to having his food stolen from him. When Arthur takes some food from him, in a misguided attempt at kinship, he accidentally brings back some bad memories for his servant.

- - - - - 

There were seven bad harvests in a row when Merlin was young, one after the other. Food was scarce and Merlin’s parents could barely scrape together enough to feed themselves, let alone their son.

Merlin was one of the lucky ones. Even when people were dropping dead from hunger on the streets outside, he lived a relatively cushy lifestyle and was accustomed to eating somewhat regularly. It was hardly ever a complete meal, but who ate a complete meal in such trying times? Certainly not him. Certainly not his family.

It was enough. Not much, but enough.

He had it better that the children who were dying of hunger, his stepfather would remind him. Better than the homeless and the orphans and the runaways.

Merlin’s stepfather was a shrewd man, the kind inclined to speak his mind without thought of the consequences of his words, nor indeed any feeling it might bring another person; if he had strong feelings about something, you’d be sure to know about it. He wasn’t one for sugar-coated words and euphemisms, so when he told Merlin he was lucky because he wasn’t starving to death, Merlin believed him.

Sometimes, when he misbehaved, his stepfather would take away his plate and scold him, saying “You can have this back when you learn to your lesson.”

Invariably, the food would disappear, leaving Merlin with nothing but a growling feeling in his stomach.

He learnt quickly – he always was a perceptive boy – that doing something wrong meant you would lose the privilege of food. It meant that you would go hungry. Even when he left Ealdor for Camelot, that fearful belief lingered in his mind and refused to be shaken.

This fear reminded him that he had to be careful what he said or did around Gaius and Arthur because – at the end of the day – they were the ones who decided if he ate. As his masters, they had the power over him that his stepfather had.

Still, they never exercised that power, as Merlin never gave them the opportunity. He stayed on his best behaviour (or as close to that as he could) and in return, he had never lost those precious privileges.

There were times when he thought he would, times when he pissed off Gaius with his reckless behaviour or irritated Arthur with his snarky attitude, but neither of them had ever done anything about it, which was strange. Even so, he remained hypervigilant. He couldn’t let those things happen to him again.

He had just settled down for lunch with Gaius when Arthur barged into the room. “Come with me Merlin. You will be eating with me and my knights today,” he announced.

“But I don’t want to,” said Merlin.

“You don’t get a choice,” countered Arthur, beckoning Merlin towards the door. “You are my servant, and I’m ordering you to eat with us today. Now come with me.”

Merlin cast a desperate look to Gaius, who shrugged. There was nothing he could do about it. Sighing, Merlin rose to his feet and followed Arthur down the corridor.

This whole ordeal had unsettled Merlin. He was meant to eat with Gaius today. He always ate with Gaius.

Meals with his mentor were quiet, somewhat formal events. Gaius wasn’t much for conversation, especially not a meal times, so Merlin refrained from talking too much, not wanting to bother him. Despite all that, Merlin liked eating dinner with Gaius, because he was predictable.

Gaius was as regular as the sun’s rising and setting - he went through the exact same motions every day, at precisely the same time. Having such a routine comforted Merlin, and having it disrupted by Arthur pissed him off beyond measure. Who was Arthur to barge into their chambers and demand that Merlin ate with him and his knights?

‘He’s the heir to the throne, that’s who. Of course he gets to boss you around, the privileged asshole.’

Arthur guided Merlin into the mess hall. In the centre of the room was a rickety old table, which currently housed five rowdy knights. Arthur grabbed Merlin by the shoulders and deposited him on the bench, right between Gwaine and Percival.

Hot food was slammed down in front of him – some bread and meat of some kind – along with a pitcher of ale.

“You’re giving me ale?” said Merlin. Back in Ealdor, this stuff was a luxury; it was not the kind of thing people like him drank.

“Why not?” shrugged Leon. “Heaven knows we drink enough of the stuff. You might as well get in on the action.”

“We don’t drink that much booze,” grumbled Gwaine, crossing his arms like a petulant child.

“Says the man who gets black out drunk at the tavern every chance he gets,” smirked Merlin. “You don’t exactly hide it well, the way you stumble home every night.” The group erupted into a chorus of rowdy laughter, and Percival clapped Merlin on the shoulder, making Merlin jump a little.

“That was a good one Merlin,” laughed Arthur. There was something hidden underneath his cheery expression, though Merlin didn’t know what it was.

The conversation shifted to another topic - some play the knights were thinking of seeing - when Arthur, still nodding along with the conversation, reached over and swiped a piece of bread from Merlin’s plate. Arthur didn’t even look at him as he did it.

Merlin’s anxiety spiked. He glanced around the table, looking to see if any of the other knights had noticed, but none of them seemed to care.

Had he done something wrong? Was it something he said? Why was Arthur doing this to him?

Swallowing his worry, he did his best to pay attention to the conversation that was going on around him. Even so, he found himself getting distracted. Arthur kept eyeing him out the corner of his eye, and even though he probably thought he was being subtle, he really wasn’t. It all made Merlin feel even more anxious. He hoped it was all just a fluke and Arthur wouldn’t do it again.

“What do you think Merlin?” asked Lancelot.

“Huh?”

“Head in the clouds again?” jested Percival. “You’re such a daydreamer.”

“Oh, piss off,” said Merlin, taking a sip of his ale. It tasted bitter and he resisted the urge to scrunch up his face in disgust. How did people stomach this vile crap? “What were you saying?” he asked.

“Are you free later this week,” repeated Lancelot. “We could all go to see that play together. Make a day out of it.”

“I don’t know,” replied Merlin. “I’m pretty busy. I have my job and everything.”

“Eh, I’m sure Arthur will give you the day off.”

The group expectantly looked at Arthur, who shrugged. “I don’t see why not,” he said, taking a swig of his beer, and chewing on chicken bone, rather like a dog. The conversation drifted again, and much to Merlin’s dismay, a hand reached over once more, swiping a piece of meat from his plate.

It was Arthur. At least now Merlin knew the first time wasn’t a fluke. This was deliberate. Arthur was trying to punish him, but for what? All he had done was talk.

Talk.

Was that it? Did Arthur want him to be quiet?

But he had invited Merlin here to eat with his friends. He had practically dragged him here, kicking and screaming, and now he was trying to force him into silence? Why? What purpose could that serve?

He could feel Arthur’s eyes on him, staring. Merlin opened his mouth to respond to something Gwaine said, and saw that same hand reaching into his peripheral vision, this time taking another roll of bread.

Fine.

Arthur wanted him to be silent.

He’d be silent.

He’d behave and this would all stop.

Right?

Thankfully, after that, Arthur didn’t make any move to steal from him again, and Merlin was able to scoff down the meagre remains of his meal in peace.

The rest of the meal had a sour tone to it, and both Merlin and Arthur were in dour moods. The other knights, noticing the tension between the two, excused themselves and left the room. Soon, only Merlin and Arthur were left.

There was a silence. A long, empty, depressing silence.

“What did I do wrong,” blurted Merlin, at the exact moment the same words left Arthur’s lips.

Both stared at each other in bewilderment. “What are you talking about Merlin?” asked Arthur.

“You kept taking my food from me, and I don’t know why. What am I doing wrong? Do you not want me to speak at all? I will if that’s what you want. I just want all this to stop.”

“I wasn’t… I don’t understand. I was just trying to make you feel welcome,” said Arthur.

“By stealing from me?” snapped Merlin, anger finally bursting out of him.

“By sharing a meal with you!” exclaimed Arthur. “Do you not share meals in Ealdor?”

“Not like this.”

“Look, Merlin, I don’t know what it’s like in your hometown, but in Camelot sharing a meal is normal. The other knights and me always eat off each other’s plates. It’s just a kinship thing. What’s mine is yours, you know?”

“Then why were you staring at me the whole time like I’d done something wrong?”

“I was looking to see if you would do the same thing in return. I’m sorry Merlin. I truly didn’t know that this was a trigger for you.”

“It’s not a trigger,” barked Merlin. “It just brings back bad memories.”

“That’s the definition of a trigger dumbass.”

“Shut up.”

Arthur rolled his eyes, collecting up the plates from the table. Then, he disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared moments later, having exchanged them for a plate of food. There was enough on there to make up for what Arthur taken, and then some. Grabbing Merlin by the shoulders, he sat him down at the table and set the dish in front of him.

“Here,” he said. “This is all yours. I promise I won’t take any of it.”

Merlin stared at Arthur, still worried that he might take it all away. Noticing his apprehension, Arthur pushed the plate closer to him. “It’s yours Merlin. I’m not having my servant go hungry.”

Merlin barely stopped to breathe as he wolfed it all down.

The next time Arthur demanded Merlin come to dinner (or invited him, as Arthur would so eloquently put it), Merlin couldn’t help but notice that Arthur and the knights kept their hands to themselves. He was secretly pleased, but said nothing, not wanting to give Arthur the satisfaction of knowing he had done something right for once in his life.

Across the table, Arthur smirked.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Don’t Worry

Prompt: okay so i found your quarantine drabble "it started with a flower" merlin series and can we pls have more of gwen and arthur being worry warts while merlin continues to not understand why their worried? bonus points if merlin is immortal/cant be killed by human injuries so he's more reckless and gwen and arthur are just like "oh for fucks sake please stop merlin if for no other reason then we are mortal and you're killing us w stress" we love self-sacrificing merlin and his worried lovers

Thanks for the prompt, babe! It was so nice to look back at the true mountain of drabbles on this account...still can't get over the fact that a drabble is SUPPOSED to be 100 words exactly...also SHAMELESS D20 reference because that's how we roll babey

Read on Ao3

Pairings: merthur, gwen/arthur, gwen/arthur/merlin

Warnings: none

Word Count: 5653

Merlin has lived through many, many things. He continues to live through many, many things.

The fact that he can do this does not prevent Gwen and Arthur from worrying when he makes some, frankly, quite questionable decisions.

Or, five times Merlin makes Arthur and Gwen worry, and one time they make him worry in return.

1: Poison

In hindsight, the visiting lord was absolutely trying to kill both Arthur and Gwen. The man turned up with all his servants and knights in armor. Even the servants, yes, in leather tunics and with many different squires juggling things that were definitely supposed to be kept hidden. Arthur, of course, didn’t realize this because he’s been trying to be more focused on his own presentation—at least that’s the excuse he gives Gwen—but Merlin knows better. He’s been doing this for a long time.

So when the lord makes a show of rising to his feet amidst a jubilant feast, raising a goblet high in the air, praising Camelot, her strength, and the power of a strong, worthy leader, Merlin has to hide the roll of his eyes when he deftly removes both Gwen and Arthur’s goblets from their grasps. Arthur opens his prat mouth to ask what the hell is going on, only for Merlin to raise an eyebrow, toast to the lord, and down the contents of both.

“Merlin!”

Lancelot is out of his chair in an instant, rushing across the hall to catch Merlin as he slumps, followed swiftly by Gwaine who bellows for Gaius. Percival and Elyan don’t hesitate to draw steel, watching as the servants of the visiting lord hold up their hands.

“My lord,” the visiting lord simpers, “I have absolutely no idea what could have—“

“Save it,” Arthur growls, standing, “you have brought poison into the heart of Camelot. You will explain, but I have no wish to hear your pathetic mumblings right now.”

He turns his back on the lord as the knights rush him, holding the others at bay as Arthur kneels down at Merlin’s side. Gwen rises as well, her chin aloft, looking every bit the queen she is.

Merlin, of course, can’t hear a damn thing past the roaring of blood in his ears. This one’s a nasty one—he can feel it burning as it goes down his throat, splitting off into slivers that find their way through his body, into his chest, into his arms, right down to the tips of his fingers. It feels as though he’s both deathly cold and about to sweat out every little bit of moisture in his body.

He can’t see much either, his eyes squeezing shut to deal with the pain, but he can sense the moving of blurry shapes above him. Probably Lancelot, probably Gwaine, probably not Gaius yet, he’s quite far away.

Oh, is he being lifted? He’s probably being lifted. Alright, so they’re taking him to Gaius this time. That’s new. Wow, is the walk to Gaius’s always this long? Yes? No? He’s having a bit of a hard time keeping track of time right now.

“Merlin? Merlin, can you hear me?”

“Yes,” Merlin tries to say, only for his throat to explode in agony again the second fresh air enters, so he just ends up making this horrible half-screech-groan sound.

“Don’t try and speak,” the voice orders, presumably doing something other than just standing there watching this happen, not that Merlin can feel anything, “just hold on. We’re doing our best.”

Merlin closes his eyes fully and relaxes as much as he can onto the bench. Which probably isn’t very much if he remembers how most of these poisons work. He breathes, reaches deep into his chest for his magic, and waits, letting the slow golden light work its way around his body, helped along by whatever Gaius is doing to him.

He opens his eyes an uncertain amount of time later, looking straight into the most disapproving eyebrow he’s gotten in a while.

He swallows, cracking a smile when his throat merely tingles.

“So,” he croaks, “did I miss the rest of the feast?”

“Oh, Merlin!”

Ah, there’s Gwen—she flies into his arms, wrapping her own tightly around his middle, squeezing and holding on for dear life. Oh, her face is wet, has she—

“Hey, hey,” he mumbles, clumsily trying to pat her back, “it’s okay, ‘m alright. You’re alright too.”

“Thanks to you,” Gwen says, drawing back and wiping her face only to join Gaius in staring at him with the face of a disappointed parent, “Merlin, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that I have a much better chance of surviving that than you and Arthur?”

Gwen bats his shoulder with her shawl. “That is beside the point and you know it. You scared us.”

“Sorry, but—“

“No, Merlin,” Gwen says sternly, “no ‘buts.’ I understand what you’re trying to do, but you know this isn’t good for you.”

“I don’t normally down poison on the regular, no.”

He grins, big and cheeky, right in her face. And to give her credit, she manages to gold that stern queenly façade for a few moments longer before she breaks, smiling and shaking her head and rushing right back in to hug him.

“I trust you unconditionally,” she murmurs, “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“I have to keep you safe,” Merlin mumbles, still quite tired from fighting the poison, “and I’m alright. I’m always alright, you know that.”

“I know, Merlin.” She draws back and cups his face with a gentle hand. “But I worry.”

“So do I.”

“Not about yourself,” Gwen whispers, “not nearly as much as you should.”

“Well, when I start reacting to deadly things like a normal person, I’ll be more worried.”

2: Bandits

They’re just on a hunting trip. It’s not even a patrol. The knights aren’t even in all their capes and obvious things that flap about in the wind like signal flags saying ‘yes! Hello! We are here and we are obviously from Camelot! Please come and try to stab us!’ Seriously, Merlin’s going to have words with whoever decided that a mandatory part of the knights’ everyday patrol wear is going to be massive red things tied around their necks. It’s a serious thing that he’s run into at least four times. It’s getting a little ridiculous.

Anyway, they’re not wearing those this time, because this is a casual hunt for only the king and his most trusted. Also known as: Arthur the prat is getting tired of being a prat in the castle and wants to go be a prat outside.

Also also known as: court life is hard and the knights—and Merlin—can see Arthur getting tired. So they drag him out to the woods where he can’t escape any of their snark because “There’s no one else here but us, Princess, get used to it.”

Merlin knows Arthur well enough to know he’s secretly very, very grateful for it.

You wanna know what he’s probably not grateful for? The inability of one of their hunts to go without running into at least one mess of bandits after an easy raid.

One hunt, just one. Please.

Merlin doesn’t even like hunts. He just likes not being in the citadel all the time.

He ducks swiftly behind a tree as a bandit takes a wild swing at him with his sword, getting it lodged in the trunk next to him. Merlin’s eyes go wide as the bandit rips it out again with a vicious snarl, drool leaking from his lips as he grins angrily at Merlin. His nose wrinkles as he smells the bandit’s breath.

“Ugh, you’re worse than Arthur in the morning.”

He uses the bandit’s momentary confusion to blast him across the clearing into a tree, knocking him out.

“So Arthur in the morning, huh?”

Merlin rolls his eyes as Gwaine blocks another sword. “Listen, if you want to try and get the prat out of bed, you be my guest.”

“And deprive you of that honor?” Gwaine smirks. “Not on your life.”

Merlin opens his mouth to make some snappy remark when he notices four bandits rushing at them over Gwaine’s shoulder.

“Look out!”

He sends Gwaine to the side with a blast of magic, ignoring the shout of protest. The bandits get closer, swords raised high, one of them letting out a vicious cackle.

Merlin sighs. Honestly.

He raises his hand and sends them all flying backward, smiling a little at the way the vicious cackle turns into a whine that would’ve made the runt of the new litter of dogs ashamed. The bandits lie on the ground, dazed, swords lying all across the clearing.

“Merlin!”

Merlin glances over, seeing Arthur rushing at him. He barely has time to turn before Arthur’s bowling into him, hugging him so tightly he panics for a second that Arthur’s under some sort of enchantment trying to kill him. Only to realize no, this is just his prat hugging him because he’s scared.

“I’m fine, Arthur.”

“There were four of them, you—clot pole!”

“That’s my word.”

“Yes, and it suits you perfectly! Merlin, you could’ve been killed!”

Merlin makes a show of looking around at himself, still fully intact, then back up at a panting Arthur. “I think I’m all in one piece, sire.”

“Don’t you ‘sire’ me, Merlin, you—“

“Did Arthur just admit that he likes it when I don’t refer to him with the proper titles?” Merlin glances around at the other knights that are trying valiantly not to laugh. “Did I just hear that right?”

“That’s what I heard.”

“Me too.”

“I mean we all knew it.”

“It’s taken him this long to figure it out.”

Leon simply shrugs. That man’s ability to keep a straight face is something Merlin will always respect and never understand. But he has gotten very good at spotting the way Leon will wink surreptitiously at him when he’s amused. Like now.

“Alright, alright, enough,” Arthur mutters, sheathing his sword and wrapping his arms tightly around Merlin again. “Don’t do that.”

“What, take care of all of our enemies really easily?”

“Scare me.”

“And now you’re admitting that you get scared when I’m in danger?”

“Only because I know Gwen would have my head.”

“Ah, yes, because Gwen is like that.”

Arthur glares at him. There’s a flash of something behind his eyes. Merlin spots it.

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, too quiet for the others to hear, “and I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“You’d better be.”

“Alright, lovebirds,” Gwaine calls loudly to various laughs, “let’s go. There are still tracks here.”

Arthur looks back at Merlin. “You’re riding next to me.”

“You say that as if I don’t already ride next to you.”

“Shut up.”

3: Fall

Okay so listen: when you chase people around the castle, they inevitably look for a way out. And if they’re high up, they’re going to go for a window if they get desperate enough.

Yes? Everyone on the same page?

Wonderful.

So Merlin’s currently falling out of a window.

In his defense, there was a rogue sorcerer who hadn’t realized that the ban on magic had been lifted and Uther isn’t king anymore skulking around the citadel. Merlin’s best guess is that they were imprisoned somewhere and only just got free, otherwise they’d’ve known. And, well, they tried to explain that magic is legal now—he’s so proud of Gwen and Arthur, really.

Someone just burst into their chambers in the middle of the knight and Gwen had been out of bed, offering him a drink and sitting down while Arthur asked the guards if they could bring food. They’d told him the ban had been lifted and that he was free to practice magic now. Then Merlin had shown up and asked what was going on and apparently, they’d taken it as a challenge? That Merlin—the Court Sorcerer—was going to arrest them for practicing magic.

In their defense, it was the middle of the night. Not in their defense, come on.

So they’d run, promising to bring down the walls of the castle. Merlin had rolled his eyes because he just got here, and taken off after him. They’d run around the top floors of the castle for a while, trying to figure out first, where the stairs were, and second, what the bloody hell was going on.

Then the sorcerer had jumped out a window. Sure. Alright.

Unluckily for him, when he’d broken the glass, a large shard had decided to make its home in his chest and he was dead before he hit the ground. Merlin, not realizing precisely what the plan was—when had he ever?—jumped after him, only to realize that there is in fact, no courtyard over here, just empty air until the cold stone of the square below.

So, falling.

It’s surprisingly peaceful, as a way to go. Time to enjoy the view, a good reminder that they should really make sure there’s someone at the front gate, and Merlin simply closes his eyes and concentrates.

There.

At the last possible minute, he slows, reaching almost a stop, before letting himself drop the last few feet to land harmlessly on the ground. Well. That could’ve gone better.

“Merlin!”

“Right on time,” he mutters, getting himself to his feet, and brushing off the little pieces of glass, looking up to see Gwen leaning out of the window.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Oh, thank god,” she calls, “you’re alright. Now get up here, this instant.”

He grins, sweeping into a low bow before heading up the stairs. He opens the door to their quarters and is promptly yanked inside and into an embrace.

“Hello, Gwen,” he says softly, “it’s good to see you too.”

“Good to see—Merlin,” Gwen scolds, "you could’ve been hurt.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” Gwen wipes her face and oh…oops.

“I’m alright Gwen,” he says quietly, “really.”

It’s late. It’s the middle of the night and it’s dark and Gwen just had to put on every single ounce of royal charm she has, and watch Merlin take a fall that would’ve killed pretty much everyone else. As he watches, her queenly mask starts to break as she keeps a hold of his sleeve, dragging him to the table and setting a plate of food aside, glaring at him.

“Are you hurt?”

“Not at all, my lady.”

“Don’t. Not now, Merlin. Not while I’m this worried.”

“I wasn’t trying to,” he demurs, lifting his hands in surrender, “but really, Gwen, I’m not hurt. I’ve been practicing that spell, it won’t—“

“You’ve been practicing?” Merlin winces as Gwen draws herself up taller. “So you regularly throw yourself from great heights?”

“No, I just jump off my bed.”

“Off your bed?”

“The point is that I slow immediately when the spell takes effect,” Merlin says, “so I don’t need very much distance from the floor.”

She folds her arms and stares at him. “So what you’re saying is this is the first time you’ve done it from a great height and you weren’t sure it was going to work?”

Merlin’s hesitation gives her all the answers she needs.

“Gods, Merlin,” she mumbles, slumping into a chair and covering her face, “you’re going to scare me to death one of these days.”

“Nah. I’ll save you from that.”

“How, by doing some equally death-defying stunt?”

Merlin grins and takes her hand. “No. By not letting you see it.”

“Merlin…”

He relents, opening his arms and letting her give him another hug. He squeezes back firmly, trying to communicate that he’s here, he’s safe, and it’s okay.

“I’m glad you’re alright,” Gwen whispers eventually, “and I’m glad that everything…worked out. We do need to make sure that the sorcerers no longer feel the need to live in fear…”

Merlin chuckles as he feels Gwen’s brow furrow against his shoulder, probably already drafting things to do.

“Not tonight, Your Majesty,” he scolds gently, pushing her toward the bed, “you need rest.”

“Mm.”

“Where’s Arthur?”

“Probably looking for you,” Gwen murmurs as she slides back beneath the covers, “so you have to stay up until he gets back.”

“…and so he can yell at me too, hmm?”

Gwen snuggles into her pillow and smiles.

4: Stab

So.

Uh, Merlin doesn’t really know how they got here this time.

Because—right, well, it’s not really a secret that Merlin is very close to both Gwen and Arthur. It’s just not. Anyone with a pair of eyes who can walk into Camelot and see them is going to figure it out. Even Uther realized it.

Merlin will never forget the way Arthur burst out laughing when he told him what Uther said to Merlin that day before the tournament, looking up with tears in his eyes and just managing to gasp: “you’re telling me that you and I got my father’s blessing before Gwen and I even started seeing each other?”

Yes. Yes, he is.

Anyway, the point is, Gwen, Merlin, Arthur, they’re very close.

Also something that should be fairly obvious to anyone who’s been to Camelot in the last little bit of time is that one: magic is legal. Two: Merlin is Court Sorcerer.

Get it? Wonderful. So.

The man who is currently holding Merlin hostage with a sword to his throat knows that Merlin is important to Gwen and Arthur. He doesn’t seem to realize that Merlin is Court Sorcerer.

How those two things are not the first two things he realized Merlin does not understand. Honestly, he’s going to chalk that up to why he’s too startled by the fact that he’s got people coming at him with a sword to do anything about it. The sheer inability of those facts to reconcile in his brain prevents him from taking any action.

Honestly, he’s still figuring that out. Enough so that it takes him a while to realize that Leon is desperately trying to signal him and ask if he’s alright.

He gives back the okay and Leon’s expression morphs into one of soft exasperation. To everyone else, it probably doesn’t look like Leon’s face has changed at all, but they haven’t spent several council meetings with the man trading insults only through shifts in micro-expressions.

It’s quite entertaining, especially when they start to get really, really creative.

Anyway. Sword. Throat. Yes.

He’s not sure why currently being held hostage. Someone who wants something, probably. That’s generally why people get taken hostage, right? The sword presses a little closer and Merlin makes an effort to focus.

“Do this,” Arthur warns, his own sword out, “and you will never leave Camelot alive.”

“What good is Camelot,” the man scoffs, “if it allows for the devilish act of witchcraft and sorcery that will poison it from the inside?”

“You’re wrong.”

“Maybe,” the man snarls, spittle flying from his lips, “but not nearly as stupid as you.”

Arthur glances at Merlin. Merlin nods.

“Let him go,” Arthur says again, “and this might yet end well.”

The man throws his head back and cackles, the sword nudging insistently at his throat. Merlin winces. That was loud.

“This won’t end well,” the man says through his giggles, “and you know it.”

“Then let him go.”

“Alright,” the man snickers, “but you’ll have to give me a head start.”

Gwaine snarls, even as Arthur holds firm.

“I make you no promises.”

“I know. That’s why I’m giving myself a head start.”

Merlin’s about to wonder what the hell that means only for the sword to drive into his stomach.

Ah. That’s not ideal.

He slumps to the ground as the man lets him go, hearing the screams from the servants gathered in the hall and the shouts from the knights. He feels the breeze as they rush past him, two remaining behind to immediately put pressure on the wound and get him upright, wrapping his stomach tightly and promising that he’s going to be alight.

“‘Lyan?”

“Yeah, Merlin,” Elyan mutters, “it’s me. Leon’s here too, we’ve got you.”

“You’ll be alright, yes?” Leon whips off the bloodied tunic. “You will be fine.”

“Sit m’ up.”

They do, propping him up against the wall as the servants quickly rush for Gaius, for hot water, for bandages. Someone—maybe Malwen—sets a bowl at Leon’s elbow, followed by the quick assurances that Gaius is on his way.

Merlin closes his eyes and concentrates, trying to remember the few times Gaius tried to teach him about basic anatomy. Listen, it’s not that he wasn’t paying attention, it’s just that he—

Yeah, no, he wasn’t paying much attention.

Listen, like…three different people were trying to kill Arthur that day. He was preoccupied.

Stab wound. Right.

Merlin takes a deep breath, ignoring the way the breath aches and wheezes as it travels into him, and starts to gently draw magic from the well in his chest toward the stab wound. He feeds it slowly, trying not to overexert himself, just enough to staunch and stop the bleeding until Gaius can get here.

Something clatters to the floor next to him and he barely looks over enough to see Arthur.

“Stay still,” Arthur murmurs frantically, fussing with his tunic, “you’ll be alright Merlin, I promise, you’re going to be alright.”

Merlin knows, but he’s busy right now, so he can’t really talk back.

“It’s going to be alright,” Arthur repeats, over and over, “Merlin, you’re going to be alright.”

He manages to look over, catching sight of Arthur’s hair a mess, his eyes wild, his mouth a hard line. Arthur glances up from his slightly trembling hands and catches his gaze, doing his best to put on a brave smile. He reaches out and cups Merlin’s face gently.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says softly, speaking as much to both of them as he can, “you’re going to be alright, Gaius will fix you up, and then I can worry about how to make sure you’re safe, so this never happens again.”

His mouth quirks when something flits across Merlin’s face.

“If you try and tell me you can take care of yourself,” he admonishes gently, “I am going to remind you that you currently have quite the stab wound.”

One that Merlin is handling quite well, actually, thank you very much.

“I know you’d rather it be you than us,” Arthur whispers, laying his forehead against Merlin’s, “but you—you can’t just let this happen to you, Merlin, you’ll…”

He swallows, his eyes drifting shut.

“…you’ll break my heart.”

A surge of magic shoots through Merlin at Arthur’s hushed confession, filling the wound with a burning glow. Merlin leans forward as much as he can, resting his own weight on the wall and on Arthur. Arthur holds him gladly, muttering that he can’t wait until Merlin’s better so he can scold him for being so reckless.

Well, when Merlin figures out how the man didn’t realize he was magic, he’ll have one hell of a defense. Who knows, Arthur might get a kick out of it too.

5: Plague

At some point, Merlin thinks as he heaves another stone out of the way, we’re going to stop coming across cursed objects. There has to be a limit. There just has to be.

This one has a plague attached to it because of course, it does. The entire citadel had been overrun with shadow demons that could only be seen by one person, everyone jumping at every little sound, unsure of whether they were seeing real people or the figments of their nightmares. What made things far worse is that some of them could be seen by multiple people and some of them couldn’t. So you could never be sure whether people would believe what you were seeing.

Someone called this the Plague of the Shadow Cat.

Gaius had gone into the books, trying to figure out a solution. Turns out the only way was to go to this cavern out in the middle of nowhere and destroy these four totems that allowed the Shadow Cat passage, in order to break the curse. The problem was that the cavern was in the middle of a massive forest that no one wanted to go close to.

Merlin had sighed and packed his bags.

As it turns out, the forest was designed to keep people out of it—reasonable—and used magic to twist someone’s fears to keep them at bay. You know what Merlin has? Magic.

It was easier than it would’ve been for anyone else, surely, which is good. What isn’t good is that Merlin still has to survive going through this massive forest. He’s had enough of dried meat and berries for a long time, thank you very much.

After about a day or two of walking and not getting lost, he’s just being thorough, he reaches the entrance of the cavern. It’s piled high with rocks from what looks like a collapse, and starts trying to get them out of the way. Unfortunately, most of his magic is going to keeping the nightmares at bay, meaning he can’t really risk using it to get these stones out of his way lest he let the nightmares in.

He’s had enough nightmares for a lifetime already.

He grunts as he heaves another one out of the way. Honestly. Is there a checklist he can look at with all the cursed objects in the world? They’ve got to be at least halfway done at this point, come on. It’s been years.

At last, he manages to get the stones out of the way and ventures into the cavern. Around the twists and turns he reaches the center, seeing the four totems. He snaps his fingers to create a light, peering at each one. It seems as if he’s just going to have to disenchant them. Well, that won’t be too hard.

And…it isn’t. Huh. That’s a little anti-climactic.

He’s sure if he had to battle his way past his greatest fears and the Shadow Cat was actually here fighting him, this would be a lot harder. But, it’s not, so here he is, all done. Now he just has to get back through the forest. Ugh.

Merlin rides back into Camelot to see the people in the streets, happy, content, not afraid. He smiles, letting their joy wash some of the forests off of him. He slides off Cara and puts her away, wiping her down and giving her as many treats as the stable master will let him. He makes it back inside, to Gaius’s chambers, ready to throw open the door triumphantly and announce he’s fixed it!

The second he opens it to see Gwen and Arthur he freezes.

“…hello.”

“Hello, Merlin,” Arthur says softly, and oh shit he’s in trouble, “did you travel well?”

“A little damp, if I’m being…” He trails off when Arthur shoots him a look. “Yes. I did.”

Arthur nods sharply, leaning against the table and folding his arms.

“The curse is broken,” he tries, letting the door shut behind him, “and I don’t think it’ll ever come back.”

“That’s good, Merlin,” Arthur says in a tone of voice that suggests anything but, “that’s very good.”

Merlin nods hesitantly, glancing at Gwen. Gwen doesn’t look back at him, her eyes fixed on the vase of flowers in front of her. She withdraws one and holds it gently in her hands, turning toward Merlin, expressionless. Merlin fights the urge to flinch as she finally looks up at him.

“Do you know,” she says and this time Merlin does flinch, Gwen’s never sounded that cold before, “what happened the last time you vanished without telling us?”

Merlin’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry,” he says, starting forward, “I didn’t realize—I—“

“No, Merlin,” Gwen says, still cold, “you don’t realize.”

“We trust you, Merlin,” Arthur continues, “but that doesn’t mean that you can just leave, in the middle of a plague, on a mission that could get you killed without saying goodbye.”

“You don’t get to decide that it’s worth it,” Gwen says before Merlin can interrupt, “and you certainly don’t get to decide that we don’t deserve a chance to say goodbye.”

Merlin deflates, their words striking his chest with such ferocity that for a moment, he wonders if this is the fear he’s meant to face. “I’m…I’m sorry, I just…I knew I could do it.”

He closes his eyes. “I have to protect Camelot, protect you.”

“We know, Merlin,” Gwen says, her voice finally softening just a little, “but you don’t realize that we have to protect you too.”

Arthur walks forward, lifting Merlin’s chin. Merlin stares at him, desperately wanting Arthur to smile. Something.

“You’re the most powerful sorcerer to walk the earth,” Arthur says instead, “but you’re still our Merlin. So we worry.”

“I know.”

“So,” Arthur says, giving him a gentle nudge, “don’t do that.”

“You may be nearly immortal, but we’re not,” Gwen adds, coming over to take his hand too, “and you will give us more reason to stress than any of the things you stop put together.”

Merlin looks back and forth between the two of them. “So you’re not…angry?”

“Oh, of course we are.”

Merlin winces, only for Arthur to pull him into a tight hug, his head tucking over Merlin’s shoulder.

“Completely furious,” he murmurs, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck, “aren’t we, Gwen?”

“Absolutely.” Merlin feels Gwen wrap her arms around him as well. “Totally and utterly furious.”

Merlin wriggles halfheartedly in their grasp. “I’m not getting out of this anytime soon, am I?”

“No. This is your punishment. Stay put.”

“…fine.”

+1: Cold

“No, Arthur,” Merlin grunts, shoving the prat back into bed, “stay, I will get you the soup.”

Arthur pouts, looking every bit a sad golden puppy in his read blanket as Merlin bustles about the room. “I can stand, Merlin.”

“No, you can’t, you’re sick. Now shush and eat.”

From the other room comes a sneeze that is far too close to the door.

“Gwen, you’d better be in bed when I come in there!”

He hears the quick pitter-patter of footsteps as he crosses the room to the other chambers, hands on his hips as Gwen glances up, guiltily letting the covers drop on top of her.

“I’m in bed,” she says, holding up her hands, “see?”

“Yes, I can see,” Merlin huffs, “but you have to stay there. You’re sick.”

“It’s just a cold, Merlin, I’m—I’m—“

Gwen is cut off by another spectacular sneeze.

“…handkerchief?”

Merlin rolls his eyes and offers her one, watching as she blows her nose and shakes out her curls. If Arthur’s the puppy, she’s the kitten, startling herself with the force of her own sneezes.

“What were you so desperate to get out of bed for?”

“The book on my desk,” Gwen mumbles, reaching for it, “I wanted to—“

“Keep working.”

“No!” At Merlin’s knowing look, she makes a face. “…maybe.”

Merlin sighs. “I will get you a book, but you promised you wouldn’t try to work like this.”

“But I’m fine.”

“Yes, and I notice your sneezes didn’t interrupt you this time.”

“Merlin, I am alright.”

“Yes, so let’s have you stay in bed and rest until you’re better, hmm?”

He hears a clang from the other room. He narrows his eyes at Gwen who blinks innocently at him. Without breaking eye contact, he waves his hand.

“Hey!”

“Get your arse back in bed, sire.”

“I’m fine, Merlin.”

Merlin raises his eyebrows at Gwen. “Will you stay while I get your husband back in bed, please?”

“…if you bring me the book on the desk, I will.”

Merlin glances over and waves his hand. Gwen’s poetry book—not her work book—flies into his hand and he gives it to her.

“All yours.”

“Merlin, that’s not—“

“You surely weren’t trying to work were you?” He raises his eyebrows. “Because that would be a bad idea.”

Gwen pops open the book and buries her nose in it. “…thank you, Merlin.”

“You are most welcome. Now you,” he announces, striding back to see Arthur trying to open the now magically locked door, “will go back to bed.”

“Gaius said we were fine, Merlin,” Arthur pouts, “so we can go.”

“Gaius also said that I was in charge, so you’ll go back to bed.”

“Well, I’m the King.”

“And I’m the Court Sorcerer.” Merlin lifts his hand, letting a little of his magic swirl around his hand. “Which means you should get back in bed.”

“Threatening a king is treason, Merlin.”

“Yes, yes, and I’m sure the knights would be thrilled,” Merlin replies dryly, shooing Arthur back to bed, “now you will stay put.”

He doesn’t quite swaddle Arthur in the blanket but it is a close thing. Arthur just grumbles a little, reaching out and grabbing Merlin’s tunic and dragging him down onto the bed too. “Then you stay.”

“I have to get your medicine.”

“Have the guards do it.” Arthur snuggles into his tunic. “You stay.”

Merlin resigns himself to his fate, curling around his king. Arthur rumbles happily, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck.

“That’s the last time I let you two go out for picnics in the moonlight,” Merlin grumbles to himself, “look at what’s happened to you.”

“Now you know how we feel,” Arthur mumbles sleepily.

“You realize that we are now even for all of the things I’ve done, then.”

“Oh, no. Not even close.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, sire.”

[specialagentlokitty]

Lancelot x reader - A future

You’d been ambushed, Merlin was trying his best to protect Arthur while the others tried their best to fend of the enemies.

Looking around at your struggling friends, you knew they wouldn’t be able to win this fight.

“Run towards the valley of hidden kings!” You yelled.

No one protested and all ran, you trailing behind the group. Lancelot entered before you, glancing from him to the men behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

“I’m sorry...”

Holding out your palm, your eyes flashed gold and rocks blocked the entrance. Lancelot cried your name and you heard the others shouting for you. Turning around you swung your sword in your hands.

“You won’t win.” A man snickered.

“Don’t sound so sure.” You smirked.

Charging, you swung and blocked hits. You were quick footed, so it was easy to between them and avoid swords. Soon enough, it was just you and the leader, swinging your sword you circled him.

“This ends now.”

“Yes it does.”

The pair of you lunged at each other, your sword in his chest and his in your stomach. He fell to the floor and you stumbled back, falling onto your back was all a blur, but now all you could see was the trees above you.

You coughed up some blood and took a shaky breath before letting out a short laugh.

“So this is where I die...” you whispered.

“Not if we can stop it.”

The next few minutes were a blur, Gwaine pulled the sword from your stomach, Elyan and Merlin placed as much cloth as the could over it. Arthur shouted for someone to get on a horse.

A face came into your vision and you saw Arthur, you felt yourself being lifted and handed to someone else.

“Take her straight to Gaius.” Arthur said.

“I will.”

Looking at the man holding you, you saw Lancelot already looking down at you. He gave you a pained smile and tightened his hold on you as he kicked his horse, but your vision soon faded black.

When you came to, you blinked your eyes open to find Gaius stood over you frowning.

“Gaius...” you whispered.

“(Y/N)!” He gasped, “how are you feeling?”

You didn’t reply for a moment but then you glanced up at him.

“Like death..”

Gaius laughed quietly and sat down beside you, taking your hand in his.

“You gave us quite the scare, Lancelot said while you were unconscious you whispered something. Do you know what it was?”

“My guess, it must have been a healing spell.”

Gaius nodded and helped you sit up. You shifted a bit uncomfortably and took the water for his hands as you sipped it and watched him walked to the door.

“There’s someone how wants to talk to you.”

He opened the door and left, and Lancelot walked in. His eyes were glued to you as he walked closed and sat on the end of the bed you were on.

“You’re okay...” he breathed.

“Better than ever.” You joked.

Lancelot frowned and gazed down at his hands. He took a breath and faced you once more.

“Look I’m glad you’ve saved everyone and all that, but it’s time someone told you, to take care of you.”

“I’m fine.” You muttered.

“No you’re not, and furthermore, if you don’t take care of you, think of all the people who will need you in the future won’t have you!”

You glared harshly at him and chucked your cup across the room, it hit the wall and the water splashed everywhere, the cup clattering to the floor. Lancelot seemed shocked but dint say anything.

“What future?” You hissed, “I don’t have a future Lancelot, people like me, we don’t belong anywhere!”

Lancelot placed his hand on your leg and gave it a pat as he stood up and walked to the chair on your left. He took a seat and took your hand in his.

“That’s where you’re wrong (Y/N), you do have a future, you do belong somewhere. That’s here in Camelot with Merlin and Gaius, Arthur, Gwen, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon, they’re all your friends.”

“What about you...?” You asked softly.

Lancelot smiled and raised your knuckles to his lips and kissed them softly.

“I want my future to be with you.”

Smiling, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, bringing your hands to his face, you ran them through his hair and looped your arms around the back of his neck.

“If my futures with you, that’s a future I want to see.” You said softly.

Lancelot stood up and walked between your legs and hugged you. You rested your head on his chest and sighed contently.

“Promise me you’ll be more careful? I don’t want to loose you (Y/N)... when you caused the rockslide, I thought I’d never see you again, then when I saw you I... I...”

“I’m sorry... I promise I won’t be reckless anymore.”

Lancelot kissed the top of your head and rested his chin on top of your head. Closing your eyes, you wrapped your arms around him and balled the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to let him go for one second

[capmerthur]

THE BODY SWAP

It's all in the title :) Somewhere end S1 (after 1.11 Labyrinth, but pre 1.13 Morte). In a land of myth, and a time of magic, Arthur awakes inside Merlin's body (and no, not in that way). Alternating Merthur POV. Mentions of Will, Gaius and George. 

Excerpt PART VII:

Arthur misses the first step towards the second floor (it's actually the eleventh time today that he misses a step - he still isn't used to Merlin's feet). This time though, his balance is too lost for him to compensate and he falls backwards, landing on his butt and ready to get soaked and hit by the water and buckets he has released when instinctively freeing his hands (one to help catch his fall; one to protect himself from the falling projectiles). 

Except nothing comes: no water, no hit - and no falling sound either. And when Arthur takes a look? The buckets and water are... floating above his head?

(PREVIOUS CHAPTERS UNDERS CHAPTER VII)

VII. DOOMED (ARTHUR POV)

With a last commanding yet encouraging nod, Arthur leaves Merlin by the Great Hall's entrance and starts to make his way towards the Library.

He is stopped by Merlin's name being called out twice - because he has failed to react right away; Arthur chastises himself. It is the headmaster recruiting hands: his Father wants his bath ready when the pleas end.

Arthur doesn't want to bring Merlin in trouble, of course; so he takes on the ordered job - after all, how complicated can it be?

He is paired with a newcomer answering the name of George who looks up to him as if he holds the sun: the Prince's manservant! Which isn't that bad. Until he starts, seemingly embarrassed but curious all the same, to ask questions like "Is the Prince as terrible as they say?" or "Is it true he throws knives?" and such? Arthur tries to explain that the training field is, well, to train? He isn't sure the message gets across though, as George only holds his eyes with a perplexed gaze...

Arthur can't help but hope that Merlin at least understands that he's not only training himself but also trying to get Merlin to know how to defend himself if not to attack whenever he comes at him with a mace or anything... He should maybe make his intentions clearer, apparently...

Anyway. After yet another round of carrying buckets full of cold or warmed-up water up and down and left and right, Arthur realises there is more to it than it looks; and the bath is only half full still...

And when they're nearly done? His three coworkers and the headmasteer seem satisfied, but Arthur can't help but think while bringing up the last two buckets that they achieved nothing more than a luke warm bath with a clean but no particular scent. Merlin's baths are definitely of a superior category on both accounts, and Arthur doesn't know if he should feel guilty and spoiled for regularly enjoying better baths than the king himself, or more amazed or worried about Merlin's bath-preparing skills (is he even thinking about his safety? he wouldn't actually carry boiling water up the stairs, would he?)

Arthur decides he should address the issue. And maybe take baths downstairs from now on just in case - a little backroom near the kitchen would be more practical than his chambers, wouldn't it? When the space isn't needed for banquets preparations and such of course...

Arthur misses the first step towards the second floor (it's actually the eleventh time today that he misses a step - he still isn't used to Merlin's feet). This time though, his balance is too lost for him to compensate and he falls backwards, landing on his butt and ready to get soaked and hit by the water and buckets he has released when instinctively freeing his hands (one to help catch his fall; one to protect himself from the falling projectiles). Except nothing comes: no water, no hit - and no falling sound either. And when Arthur takes a look? The buckets and water are... floating above his head?

Arthur gasps in surprise, his mind going both blank and reeling...

Then only does Arthur finally get drenched and hit on the shoulder.

Arthur blinks. Twice.

What has just happened isn't normal, at all. Only - only magic could make such a thing possible!

Arthur looks around, instinctively - scanning for a threat.

He is alone; the corridors are empty as far as he can see, and he hears no voices, nor steps.

Which is good, because no one is attacking him then.

Which is the worst though - because if there is no one around... then the only person responsible for what he has just witnessed must be - is - HIMSELF?!

Arthur gasps again; this time in panick.

His first instinct is denial. But he knows what he saw. And somehow, it just makes sense, doesn't it?

It's not the body of the Prince that whoever switched him and Merlin is after. It's his mind...

Put him in the body of a servant, give him magic, and sooner or later (and most probably sooner) he is bound to die by his Father's law. What is he supposed to say in his defense? That he IS the Prince, in another body which had been given an ounce of magic on the sole purpose of getting him executed? Who would ever believe him...

In the meantime, the schieming sorcerer must have judged that a servant in his body may be too delighted by the upgrade in status to be a threat to his plans and would gladly unknowingly collaborate, on top of being totally untrained and incompetent at any of his duties.

Then? One only has to kill the King (which shouldn't be unachievable, for someone having so much magic that he can put spells like having bodies switched even from a distance to start with?) and - for sure - Camelot is doomed to get wiped out from the map by the first band of Saxons passing by (and most probably enticed to pass by very soon after its King's death): its only true heir gone, and the supposed one obviously improper to defend it.

Arthur is more afraid than he has ever been - and he has been in combat enough for that fact to mean something. He feels crushed; defeated, even before the battle - and honestly? He has never despised himself that much. No matter that he has never felt both so unprepared and so intrinsically useless - and not even able to trust himself: surrender is simply inexcusable. Camelot depends on it.

Besides, Arthur owes it to Merlin to fight, right. It's after all Merlin's body that's to die along his spirit. Oh! The villainy, the cowardice in this attack! Use an innocent victim as a vessel to be sacrificed. Sorcerers definitely have no sense of honor indeed.

So. Arthur is angry now. A much more suited mindset, he decides - as long as he doesn't allow it to blind him. And he won't. Merlin's body depends on it too.

Arthur takes a deep breath. He has been taught strategy even before he could talk, right? Time to make a plan of action.

First. He is not as alone as Camelot's enemy has calculated him to be. He is, in fact, not alone at all. He has Merlin.

Loyal Merlin; not only willing but even devoted to getting back into his own servant body rather than happily playing the prince. Magic familiar and open-minded Merlin - which means Arthur has not only someone who won't judge him nor fear him to confide in about his new endangering (and in so many ways) abilities, but also someone who might have some basic understanding of it; since he was Will's friend? Heart-in-the-right-place Merlin: too kind, maybe (but he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it); but naturally just and fair Merlin. Brave, fierce, tenacious Merlin; too reckless though (but again: he can at least get aware of it enough in order not to be lead only by it). Ressourceful Merlin, fast-learning Merlin: he would master his body's strength, eventually; and Leon would be here to lead the Knights in the meantime... Arthur takes an oath. Even if they fail to find a solution to their problem, Camelot won't be left unprotected. Come what may; even the worst? Merlin *will* be ready to take his place. Having Merlin's unique edges smoothed out feels wrong; but it just has to be for show, right?

Second. Well, there is no really second yet; at least not more than what they have already planned. They need to find some books - and pray that they will be useful. And Arthur will just have to be particularly attentive about not repeating the kind of blunder he just did with witnesses present.

Yes. Merlin. Books. Start at the beginning; and with luck, it might just work out in the end.

Arthur cleans up as best as he can, using and wringing his soaked tunic in the buckets, then runs to Merlin's room for a set of dried clothes. Turning up to retake his place at 'Arthur''s side while drenched would only draw unwanted attention...

.

So. Basically? Yep. This is a magic-reveal unreveal fic. But. I mean... It's Arthur? Also: this fic (to me) is canon (fitting) - so it just can't be a reveal fic. Bonus: it explains too why Arthur doesn't get the courage-magic-strength trio hint later on. He thinks Merlin is magic; but only because there is some residual trace to sense from when his body had magic (aka this fic), not that he actually has magic still at the time... Arthur can be at the same time very aware yet very unaware, and he can be so very biased and decided to see things his way, no matter how circumvoluted, right? (Also, of course Arthur thinks in fact then that HE is magic in the trio: he was after all the one inside Merlin when his body had magic; and Merlin IS courage - Arthur has such a low self-esteem to start with...)

On a side note: Arthur would actually trust Merlin with Camelot (even despite his limits). If that doesn't tell you all there is to tell then I don't know how to express it. *SIGH* *GROSS SOBBING* (Gwen though is innately made to be Queen - but Arthur doesn't know that yet. He isn't wrong about Merlin though - for Arthur's memory? Merlin would do his best to be a great King too, you bet...) *GROSS SOBBING AGAIN*

.

I. AWAKING (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur awakes; lying on his back - unusual - and rolls over automatically.

He surprisingly falls, down, hard; and jerks fully awake now - on the floor, near a so very tiny bed, tangled in an unknown blanket (harsher than his standards, even while on errands, he can't help but notice).

In disbelief, he eyes his surroundings...

Where is he? Has he been abducted?

Think, he admonishes himself - trying to clear his mind; to remember what must have happened, to guess who has dared to commit such an act, and, most important of all right now: Find a way out.

His eyes then suddenly meet Merlin's, and relief surges through him somehow - Merlin is alive - before his anxiety returns; and double: because poor faithful, loyal Merlin has obviously been taken too; and it's Arthur's fault - he must have failed to save them both from being taken, even though he cannot remember anything...

Except when Arthur reaches out to Merlin for him to come closer (they need to share information and plan, but must be quiet as a mouse), he realizes with fright but indeniable certainty that Merlin is in fact a reflection in a mirror; and worse: *HIS* reflection!?

It his NOT his hand indeed that is stretching out in front of him; NOT his clothes on his person; and definitely NOT his own hair falling upon his eyes, as he notices the black strings in his vision range...

Arthur is dumbstruck. He sees Merlin's mouth shaping a silent O, and he sees the dread in Merlin's eyes... except they ARE - he feels - *his* mouth, and *his* eyes; and everything is just plainly wrong, and plainly impossible - but undeniably REAL.

He is... Merlin? Or better said, *inside* Merlin? How can such a thing have even come to be?

Sorcery, Arthur understands with horror: Camelot is under attack!

But now armed with the knowledge of his predicament, Arthur realizes he is actually in Merlin's bedroom. He's been in here before, once; and he recognizes it all now.

So. Not abducted. All things considered, that still counts as something, right...

And, as it surely doesn't feel as if Merlin is still somewhere in his own head too while Arthur is inside of it, well... Maybe? Logically? Merlin might then be in return inside his own body?

Arthur suddenly finds himself praying for this to be true. It would be for the best, if Merlin was in his body - if they were the only ones concerned by this unnatural situation; because what if *everyone* was awaking inside someone else's body this morning? That would be... precarious - the general panic leaving Camelot completely vulnerable to whoever must have plotted this? The worst though would be if the one responsible for this was right now in control of his body, and acting as Crown Prince to do, well, evil deeds... So yes, you bet Arthur truly wants to find Merlin to be the one inside his own body when he finally finds it.

Arthur jumps on his feet, ready for action. Luckily (even though Arthur feels a bit guilty, as he notices his armour in pristine state against the opposite wall - apparently Merlin has been polishing it late into the night then) Merlin hasn't bothered to undress before falling asleep.

So. First thing first: he has to go to his chamber.

Picking some weapon on the way for good measure, you bet ...

/

Simply walking the few paces to open the door though turns out to be a challenge. His limbs are too long, and dangly; it feels like he has two left feet, and he has to try thrice before actually getting a grip on the handle - because he isn't used to this body, of course - but maybe it is truly NOT Merlin's fault if he trips over his own feet that often after all...

Gaius is already out - hopefully looking for herbs and not wandering out of his mind... Arthur would have preferred to be able to test right away his theories about how many people were affected by the damn body change; but unfortunately, it would have to wait some more.

The corridors are empty too, except for a stray black cat who walks at his side long enough for Arthur to start questioning himself about asking to the cat if he *is* Merlin - because Merlin HAS to be somewhere, right, as he obviously isn't where he should be to start with; but then the cat takes another turn... Arthur feels stupid for worrying so much about his silly manservant - but he cannot deny that he definitely will worry less only after having indeed finally found said silly manservant.

Arthur relaxes slighthly though when he enters the kitchen: people are working as usual, apparently not in shock, apparently in their right bodies. He picks up the first tray he finds, along with an extra knife that he hides in his pocket for good measure.

He tries to put on a confident grin as he walks (with the most assurance he can muster in this awkward-feeling body) towards the guards at his bedroom's door - and can only hope it will look the same as usual to them. They let him pass without trouble, and Arthur isn't sure whether it's a good thing. On the one hand, he *doesn't* doubt Merlin - he simply, intrinsically doesn't; and would never want him to feel like he did if his guards were to search him whenever he was about to enter his chamber. On the other hand... well, it isn't Merlin right now entering his chamber, with knifes at the ready... This time, it's only him; but what if it happens again, and if the one then inside Merlin's body has ill intentions...

Deciding not to dwell on this for the time being, Arthur enters his bedroom - hoping to find Merlin doing whatever Merlin always does, but preparing for a fight, if need be...

.

II. AWAKING (MERLIN POV)

Merlin awakes as if in a cocoon; literally. He is surrounded by softness, flush, warmth; he cannot remember ever feeling so comfortable - and the world can wait for just another few seconds before he opens his eyes, right... Merlin wriggles, shifting on his back, sighing softly as he nestles some more into the cushions...

When Merlin awakes for the second time - culpability sinking in as he realizes he has overslept - his eyes open to a Pendragon red canopy he would recognize even among hundreds. Merlin freezes: what the hell is he doing, sleeping IN ARTHUR'S BED?!

Merlin sits upright at once - blankets falling all around him to reveal that he wears ARTHUR'S NIGHTGOWN too ?!

Whaaaaaaaat?!

This... just DOESN'T make any sense. The last thing he can remind is sitting on his own bed, polishing the last bit of Arthur's armour before letting himself fall down to sleep (*AN). He surely doesn't recall walking to Arthur's chamber, and even less...

Merlin's mind is reeling as he shuffles out of bed as swiftly as he can. Oh my... What is Arthur going to think? And come to think of it - true panic now creeping down on Merlin at that thought: *WHERE* is Arthur to start with?

His attention is drawn out right then by Arthur calling out his name (Merlin feels relief, no matter his current embarrassing situation) - in one of those thousands yet unmistakably always Arthurian ways to say his name: a myriad of moods and meanings in those simple two syllables - the voice sounding odd though this morning (is Arthur sick?), and tensed (well, he just found his manservant in *his* bed, that might explain it!).

Merlin turns to face his sovereign, trying to feel less self conscious because he mustn't look guilty, while wishing for inspiration, and buying time until it hits: "There is actually a perfectly valid explan-"

But it is NOT Arthur he sees: it is... himself? His breath catches as 'utter confusion' gets a new meaning, you bet...

At the same moment, Merlin notices suddenly just how *not his* his voice has just sounded, and how he's wearing a very particular ring around one finger of what's NOT his hand, and how *blond* hair is falling upon his eyes... And still nothing makes sense; but at least it *does* explain how he awoke in Arthur's bed in Arthur's clothes: he *is* Arthur?; and... Arthur... is him? MUST be him. He has been calling his name right the right way, right?!

"Arthur?" Merlin barely dares to breathe out, both in wonder and in plea (because Arthur CANNOT be gone - the fear and pain and simple *impossibility* of such a concept slicing through Merlin's mind like a knife).

There is a bright smile then appearing on his face - a smile that doesn't entirely look like his own though - "Yes, Merlin. It's me," followed by a relieved sigh: "And it's you". And, despite the shock about them having apparently switched bodies (?!?!), Merlin can't help but feel warm all over - because Arthur (and yes, it is so clearly Arthur, even in HIS body!) has apparently been worried about him.

.

(*AN) Headcanon time :

Merlin uses magic to clean Arthur's armour in the beginning, indeed. And he still uses magic for most of the chores, as much as he can, of course (washing clothes, mending clothes, emptying chamber pots, sweeping fireplaces, preparing baths, refreshing beds, cleaning floors, cleaning everything, really (except for mucking the stables, because there are always others around, grrrr). But he quickly grows nearly *maniac* about Arthur's food (picking at it as a way to make sure it's not poisoned etc...) and about Arthur's armour: it's one of Arthur's protections - so you bet Merlin definitely cleans and polishes and repairs and oils the leather ligaments that hold it together and EVERYTHING the hell out of it, with extra ardor and fervor, with his own two hands, all the while continuously trying to put on it any protecting spells he ever finds, and repeating those over and over at each occasion...

Also: mirrors were probably not so advanced at the time... But let's say Merlin has an enhanced one, after all he has magic, right... On a side note, I'm never going to be over Arthur's priority-thinking (I'm in trouble = CAMELOT IS UNDER ATTACK (babyyyy let me hold you - being Camelot Prince/King is NOT your only worth) and Merlin's priority-thinking (what the hell is happening = WHERE THE HELL IS ARTHUR (babyyyy let me hold you - your devotion to The (brave, kind, admirable (shut up Merlin)) Prat doesn't have to mean that you always must come second (and a bit self-preservation cannot be harmful)) *SIGH* I just love those two idiots so much !!!

.

III. DISABLED (MERLIN POV)

But soon, Merlin is terrified.

And not because of the puzzling body swap.

*HE HAS NO MAGIC!?*

(Not that Merlin knows of any spell to reverse their current situation at once, mind you; so he doesn't actually try anything about it. But Merlin simply knows: there is nothing but blood running through his veins now - no vigorous warmth, no energic flow; there is simply nothing singing under his placid flesh, as he focuses on it.)

He cannot help but wish he's wrong though, and desperately tries to move a quill on Arthur's desk behind Arthur's back - the simplest of things, really; yet he fails, indeed...

His magic is tied to his body. Not to his mind.

No, no, no, no, nooooooooooo.

Merlin is, to his core, *terrified* - as he has never been. Not only because he feels more powerless and utterly helpless than he has ever felt - and worse, unable to protect Arthur! But also because the longer Arthur stays in his body, the more chances he has to find out that he has magic!? (And even though Merlin has nearly told Arthur, once? He is still not ready for him to know right now... Will after all didn't lie to protect Merlin's secret on his deathbed for Merlin to take chances with his life so soon after...)

Merlin though decides to push his panic aside for the moment: he simply MUST focus. No matter which sorcerer has this week decided to deal with the Pendragon line once and for all, Arthur's life is undoubtedly in the balance; and that's dearer to Merlin than all the magic in the world - included his own.

Because Merlin's life *has* tilted, on that rocky beach by The Great Seas of Meredor.

Merlin's earnest readiness to lay his life down to save Arthur's had been instinctive, beyond doubt visceral; and the concrete force of the impulse had surprised him. Because it hadn't been related to his first supposed then anyway indeed wished upon destiny. It had merely been a reflex, a spontaneous reaction: what he had wanted to do; more than what he ought to do. And Merlin had realized right then that he had, somehow, but undeniably, actually come to *LOVE* Arthur? He had known, for some time, that he liked him. And he had felt oddly pleased when Arthur had turned up at Ealdor - maybe Arthur liked him too? But if your first thought when someone is threatened is 'I'd rather die than see him die'? Well, there is a kind of selfishness, even in seflessness, that goes beyond 'liking', right...

It shouldn't have been such a shocking revelation though. Sure, Arthur could be a spoiled, royal prat; an irritating, pompous ass; an arrogant, moronic bully - to list but the top of the iceberg of his massive shortcomings, and without even mentioning the complete dollophead he could sometimes be. But Arthur could also be truly brave, honest, and kind; willing not only to trust but also to actually defend the words of mere servants, ready to defy his father's orders in order to save a child's life, and volunteering to help a village not even belonging to his Kingdom, to note only a few examples. Also: at some point, Merlin had realized how what could at first appear as near manhandling tactility was in fact just Arthur's disguised way to show (or ask?) affection (because one probably just doesn't walk around asking for cuddles while growing up between Uther's judging cold glares and Morgana's sharp witty tongue; and the physical occasional playfulness of the knights training must have seemed like the only way to go...). And last but not least: Merlin owed Arthur his life - if Arthur hadn't gone looking for a Mortaeus flower... So, in short: of course Merlin had gotten fond of the man. For his own values; and not because he was meant to be the other side of his coin or something. And notwithstanding how so annoyingly beautiful he always was (for the record on that particular subject: Gwen is so adorably beautiful, and Morgana so petrifyingly beautiful).

But, as Arthur - bound to be King one day Arthur - hadn't even hesitate before choosing to sacrifice himself, in order to fix what he had recognized to be his error, instead of using the (even offered) life of a simple servant? Well... There is a difference still between having the conviction that Arthur is a good man ready to fight for the greater good, even knowing it could be his death; and knowing as a FACT that Arthur *is* a good man ready to *die* for the greater good, even knowing it *will* be his death. And you bet having been proven *exactly* how pure of heart Arthur intrinsically is has only cemented that burgeoning love deeper into Merlin's heart - simply; truly; and maybe irrevocably. Merlin would now willingly die a thousand deaths to save his Prince.

.

(And feel free to shout with me about 1.11 because *MAJOR FEELS*!)

(And then hug me as I shamelessly cry because this is still NOTHING next to what's to come - aka Arthur becoming ACHINGLY beautiful, as Merlin turns ready to KILL a thousands times to save his King, blackening his own heart in the process and thinking himself then unworthy of Arthur's love because Arthur is just so BRIGHT; but wishing for it nonetheless?)

.

IV. PLANNING (MERLIN POV)

Arthur, miraculously (even though understandably; because he must be shaken too, right), is unaware of Merlin's internal crisis as he shares what he's uncovered until now: "It seems to be just us. The kitcheners and the guards all seem to be themselves."

"So. Whoever has done this is targetting you - personnally."

"Nice to see your wits are still so very particularly sharp, Merlin. Is there any reason for the one behind all this to be targetting you?"

It is beyond odd to *hear* Arthur's usual tone in his own voice; but Merlin still has the grace to sigh, before pushing his point further: "But why you?"

"Well, obviously *you*'ve forgotten, but I am Camelot's Crown Prince, responsib-."

"Which is exactly what's bothering me!" Merlin can't help but interject. "Why take on the Prince when you can take on the King?"

"Oh... Do you think... Could someone be... training on us, then? Before attacking-"

"I honestly have no idea. Maybe you got targetted indeed because you're head of security. We shouldn't rule anything out."

Arthur brings his fist down on the table, determinedly: "Well, whatever the evil plan might be, we just cannot permit for it to work. We'll have to find a way to stop this nonsense - no offense. In the meantime, we must act as if nothing unusual is going on. It might be for the time being our best chance at keeping Camelot safe - making whoever planned this think the spell didn't work?"

Merlin can't help but let out a helpless (yet realistic) sigh: "That's... a lot; on both accounts."

Arthur echoes with a helpless sigh of his own: "I know."

/

But if they are to keep up pretenses, Merlin is going to need to be prepared: "So. What's on your agenda for today - besides the monthly open pleas this morning and the daily training this afternoon?"

"Nothing particular. And there are no coming feasts nor abroad visits planned for the coming time, thankfully. (worried sigh) But there's concil, tomorrow."

"Well, let's start at the beginning. I should do fine enough for the pleas. It's mostly your father's duty; your presence is required, of course, but mostly you're to hear and listen..." Fear grips Merlin at once: "But it's public; so it would be a great opportunity to try to murder you!" He MUST protect Arthur's body: "Will you please go fetch your chainmail in my room?"

"No."

The tone is definitive, and Merlin is torn between begging, or growing impatient - because Arthur can be so obtuse sometimes (now really isn't the time for Arthur to be feeling indignation about being ordered around like a simple servant; even though he *is* one at the moment - not that Merlin would ever think he was one, of course - but what if Arthur thinks he does and enjoys the chance at some payback?): "Arthur, please (again?). It's the expected type of errands of the body you momentarily (because it MUST be momentarily, right?) inhabit - I can't - You're the target. I need your chainmail. I have no fighting skills, nor any kind of skills really to protect yo-"

"I cannot be seen wandering the castle in my chainmail without reason, Merlin; it would attract attention", Arthur interrupts in a somehow gentler tone; and Merlin realizes that Arthur hadn't registered at first how Merlin's concern was about him, more than himself - and is obviously humbled by the thought. "Court clothes are required, anyway. We're not supposed to look threatening, nor threatened, when our subjects come to present their wishes," Arthur pursues, killing any possible protest in the bud. "Besides, the guards will be present. So don't worry too much about anything happening to us", Arthur ends in a lower voice; as if the last part had been more a thought to reassure himself than a phrase meant to be uttered - and Merlin just has to savour that precious 'us'...

Merlin though isn't reassured enough about his Prince's safety: "Please (yes, that's thrice; adamant much?) Sire, at least allow me to wear your thickest leather under your tunic" - willing his voice to make it sound like a not-to-be-denied demand more than a true question.

Arthur holds his gaze; and it actually feels like a blessing when he finally relents: "As you wish; but it won't be comfortable against naked skin."

"I'll manage." Merlin can't help but fidget some before pursuing - asking Arthur to do what is and should be *his* work feeling not only weird but even wrong: "But I'll need your help to tie it in the back?"

Arthur dimissively tousles his hair, grumbling: "I *know*, Merlin." 'My clothes' going unsaid.

Merlin can be relieved about one thing, at least: Arthur obviously isn't piqued about doing a servant's work...

/

Merlin picks out the largest fitting of Arthur's clothes. He puts on the braies and trousers while still wearing the gown, respectfully tying the belt blindly around his waist. He puts on socks, and shoes. Then only does he take the gown off, and turns his back towards Arthur so that he may help with adjusting the leather's straps.

A surprised but definitely pleased whisper ("Impressive, ain't I?") echoes in Merlin's ears, as the Prat Prince seems apparently unable not to comment about his damn broad back, angling Merlin shortly that way and this way as if to assess it even better.

'Believe me, I know', Merlin can't refrain from thinking; feeling a blush coming over his face, and thankful that Arthur is too busy looking at his own back to notice any of it.

"I think I might even have outgrown Sir Leon - in width at least if not in height", Arthur concludes proudly before finally starting to work the ties - leaving Merlin suddenly ashamed of his initial internal reprimand, and oddly upset. Of course Arthur would only wish to see in his physique the strength of a warrior. Of course his first thought, when finally able to actually see his own back, would be to compare it to his given models - the Knights; and most of all among them, to his own chosen model, Leon - both the noblest and strongest of them all, yet young enough to play the part of the older brother Arthur could look up to while growing up... No one has probably ever told him that he is beautiful, Merlin realizes sadly. But the fact that Arthur is so unaware only makes him even more beautiful in Merlin's eyes...

Merlin forces himself to tease Arthur, hiding his turmoil under their usual banter: "Well, I could ask Gabriel to take measurements, if you so badly wish-"

"Shut up, Merlin", accompanied by a rewarding hit in the back of his right shoulder, which Merlin gladly revels in, no matter the unusual fist size. This, no matter their predicament, feels normal.

And in that short moment of normalcy, when everything feels just right as Arthur ends tying the leather, Merlin notices something he hasn't noticed before, when all he could feel was STRESS.

Oh no.

/

"Arthur?" Merlin can't help but wince at the intimidated tone in his voice as he turns around; and Arthur is eyeing him now with furrowed eyebrows. "I think I need - I mean you need... to... have to go?"

Arthur makes a face - with his face; except it still looks somehow like a typical outraged Arthur face (damn, this is just too confusing...): "Merlin!"

"He! Do not look at me like this is my fault! It's *YOUR* body! Maybe you shouldn't have drun-"

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have brought a full pitcher at dinner then!"

They eye each other, both unrelenting over who is at fault.

And Merlin can't help but think that somehow he is, indeed, no matter what. Because there are levels in intimacy; and he IS definitely crossing a line. There is a difference between being around and trying to avoid his gaze when Arthur walks in and out of his bath, or applying Gaius's healing balm to bruises on Arthur's back because it's a place Arthur can't reach on his own, and, well... watching and touching Arthur's *manhood*, even if only for urinating, technically ensuring no mess is done while doing it?

Arthur suddenly sighs though, and his voice sounds kinder as he offers: "This will surely happens a few times before we sort it all out, huh. To the both of us. So. How should we proceed?"

Merlin scratches his head, summoning some courage: "Do you want to... hold-"

"Your hand, Merlin!", Arthur demonstrates, lifting the would-be-culprit in the air and wiggling its fingers for good measure; and that's a 'No way' if Merlin ever heard one...

"Would you rather it to be your hand-"

"It's *your* hand right now!" Indeed. So. Another 'No way'.

But suddenly Merlin has a solution, of sort: "What if I... go sit into the stream? There's a quiet spot not so far from the castle I found while collecting herbs for Gaius... If I hurry I still can make it back before the pleas."

Arthur actually claps his hands, obviously relieved: "Sometimes, I swear, you are a genius." He hurries over, handing Merlin his tunic and grabbing the Pendragon red doublet before marching out: "Let's go!"

"You're coming?" (hastening to put the tunic on and grabbing a towel before following)

"Well, as I just said, it's bound to happen to me - you - so I might just as well tag along, and know where it is."

/

Once out of potentially spying ears reach, they plan the day further.

"We HAVE to tell Gaius, at the least, about our situation: no one will contest his word if he says you're not to train for a while - because honestly how am I supposed to spare with your Knights? They will notice right away that something isn't right. And, well..."

Merlin hesitates, not wanting to incriminate Gaius in any way. As it turns out, he doesn't have to:

"You're right. Besides, Gaius has heard about a lot of... stuff, in all his years. I was planning to go around Jeffrey and look for the forbidden books, but I have no ideas how many volumes are hidden down here, nor where they even *are* to start with... If anyone we know might have even the slightest clue about how to fix our problem, it's him; even if it's only about finding an adequate book."

Merlin nods, relieved: "So. After the pleas, I stage a fall, and we go to Gaius, who tells you're not to train for the time being. That leaves the rest of the day free, both for looking up about our situation, and briefing me on what I should be aware of for tomorrow's concil. Do you address things in an established order; who's whose specialisms; what you discussed by the latest concils which might be brought up again tomorrow; and so on..."

"I'm supposed to make the battle plans, Merlin? But as far as plans go, I have to admit this isn't a bad one. Except I'm not you; I do not trip on my feet twice a day. So. I'll make you fall. That's more plausible."

"No way! You'll end up in the stocks!" Merlin realizes how - no matter what he might have been thinking just a few months ago - he simply doesn't want Arthur in the stocks. Ever. "Which is NOT where you should be spending your afternoon." Merlin quickly amends; hiding his concern under logic's sake, knowing it to be the best way to persuade Arthur anyway. "So. You fall. I try to help you. But we both fall. I'm clumsy, as ever; you're noble, as always; everyone get to laugh at me, and praise you; and your father might skip punishing me for you getting hurt in the process, as you obviously didn't want me hurt to start with?" (pause, before adding earnestly, yet fiercely, as Merlin isn't able to tone back the surge of threat in his eyes at the mere idea of having anyone disrespecting Arthur in that way) "If he doesn't though, I'll stand guard next to you."

"Would you?" Arthur seems surprised; but touched: "Well, who knows, maybe I'll return the favor the next time."

Merlin can't refrain a whine: "The next time?"

"Even I can't save you from my father's wrath every time; it's bound to happen, either from your two left foots or your snarky mouth."

They can hear the water now, and Arthur accelerates towards it, as Merlin lags behind, unable not to smile:

"I guess I'm supposed to say 'thank you'?"

"I might have forgotten to mention I'll probably throw something in your face myself at the last moment. Prince's privilege and all that..." - Arthur even turns towards him, giving him one of his goofy faces to boot (Merlin didn't know *his* face could do *that*, by the way).

Merlin just keeps on smiling anyway. He probably hasn't felt that brightly, positively, ridiculously happy since "I'm rehiring you - because someone needs to muck out my stables". Arthur has a particular way to express fondness, and Merlin wouldn't change it for the world.

.

AN: Sorry? I'm cackling though. Poor boys, what they have to go through... Just remember it's all Bradley's fault anyway; none of this is on my head :)

.

V. THERE'S SOMETHING ABOUT MERLIN (ARTHUR POV)

Arthur is the first to reach the stream, and crouches down to test the water with his hand.

"It's cold", he warns, while Merlin walks in a straight line towards a tree with a low hanging branch and starts undressing - he does come here often, clearly.

Merlin shrugs: "Be grateful it's not winter yet. Try bathing around Imbolc - that's cold." Merlin goes on; stating an afterthought while hanging his pants on the branch: "Still worth it though; everything here is just more... alive, you know. You don't get that indoors."

And Arthur has bathed on patrols enough to know that, honestly?: he prefers his warm baths. He can't help but feel a smile on his face though at the words; they are so intrinsically Merlin.

/

Arthur had been struck, when they had met. No one had ever defied him, in any way. And it had stung; Arthur could admit. So. He had not been displeased at all when he had overmastered the fool and turned him over. The affront had been too public to be allowed to slide, and Arthur had decided he wouldn't dwell a further thought about the goodhearted fool (Arthur knew terrorrizing people wasn't right. He tended though to react badly whenever anyone acted cowardly (which was, well, all the time, around him); especially as he was actually *praised* for it somehow), but fool nonetheless, who should have known to mind his own business...

It had been nothing though in comparison to his surprise when their paths had crossed again. Arthur hadn't been able NOT to taunt him - hoping, somehow... But the last thing Arthur had been actually expecting had been for Merlin to act *exactly the same*. Surely, now that he knew who he was, he would just scrabble around him as anyone else - not defy him again, knowing it would get him in chains again, right? Arthur had been *delighted* by Merlin's untamable fire - the words, and then the look he had thrown at him while taking his jacket off? (Maybe Arthur had just been waiting all his life for someone to finally stand his ground to him, indeed...) Of course Arthur had let him go without punishment that second time - and any time since then (which was honestly difficult, as Merlin - always fighting for what was right more than for himself Merlin - frequently got riled up, be it in private OR IN PUBLIC, by literally anyone and anything).

Since he has been to Ealdor though, Arthur can't help but see things under a new light.

Hunith is everything Arthur believes a loving mother to be. But there had been no father at home, nor any mention of one. (Arthur knows the sting of this kind of wound - missing a parent; and he had been saddened, as he had realized that Merlin bore such a wound too.) Arthur hadn't dared to ask, but he had wondered: did Merlin ever got a father to start with; or had he been abandoned - intentionally or not? (Arthur knows how even an accident still feels akin to a betrayal in a child's heart.) Which would be the worst anyway? But what if Merlin had been bullied through his childhood because of it? - children could be particularly malicious, when they intended to... Was it how Merlin had learned, the hard way, that fighting - both with his words and his fists - was the only way to end the pestering? And had decided it wouldn't be only for his own sake, but for the sake of anyone who might ever need help? Was it what had brought Merlin close to Will - the fact that they both had lost their father? Was it the reason Will had wanted to learn magic to start with? (Arthur knows the near constant anger, too. As does Merlin, obviously.)

Arthur can't help but feel grateful anew, somehow, and no matter what, still, that Merlin has had Will around: surely, no matter how bad the fights Merlin had jumped into, Will must have kept him safe - at least safe enough - *with his magic*. The thought had been unbidden the first time it had occured, and had definitely surprised Arthur; but he hadn't been able to deny that it was what he truly felt indeed.

/

Because of course Arthur had come to care for Merlin. Isn't it why he had gone to Ealdor to start with after all...

Merlin.

Definitely not an ordinary manservant. And probably not the champion manservant by any book (fast learner, and smart, and hard working, he was; but only about what *he* deemed important - hence for example his total disregard for any kind of storage? - but Arthur generally agreed with what Merlin deemed important or not anyway). But honestly the only manservant Arthur now could imagine ever having - or ever want to have.

Because Arthur likes Merlin as his manservant exactly just the way he is, and would now never wish for another - no matter (and specifically because of) how well-schooled and zealous to satisfy his every need (and whim) that hypothetic other might be... Arthur now sees what others might judge flaws as assets (Merlin's clumsiness and chattiness are more endearing and uplifting than unefficient, especially as his opinions always sound reasonable; his sarcasm and insults are a sure way to keep Arthur's head from ever getting inflated; and his challenging manners push Arthur to do and be better - from training with the knights to saving people's lifes), and what others might judge insubordinate as being treated, for once, finally, as an equal, somehow (even though they both know and acknowledge they aren't) - no matter whenever it comes out at Arthur's expanse too, food getting shoved into his mouth and getting unceremoniously pulled out of bed included in their everyday banter, as Merlin can give just as much as he gets indeed. But that's maybe what Arthur values the most: how Merlin's respect feels earned and honest; neither forced by birthright or fear for repercussions, nor cajoling nor calculated.

Arthur has never had a private servant for longer than a year - his Father's rule; but you bet Arthur is decided about keeping Merlin at his side when the year would end. He will have to strategize; he will need irrefutable arguments. But if he plays his cards well - and Merlin never ceases to hand him over cards to play - Arthur has no doubt that his Father will actually allow it: it's in the best interest of the Kingdom after all.

Merlin.

A whirlwind. Always animated, always busy; never still, even when he's doing nothing. But always so expressive - so easy to read - a fact Arthur has come not only to appreciate after decades around perpetually guarded scheming faces, but even to *trust*.

A chatty nature-loving poet with dangly limbs, gentle heart, and the brightest smile Arthur has ever seen - Arthur has come to know. Yet the sassiest mouth and the most unrelenting fighter Arthur has ever met; his utter lack of skills balanced by sheer defiance - Arthur has learned right from the start. (Merlin just never backs off, no matter the odds; which is very stupid, but also very brave.)

A confusing, clashing mess of contraries. But an admirable man, with a beautiful soul.

And you bet Arthur wouldn't have him be any different.

Arthur shakes his head. Maybe - just like with his two left feet - it isn't Merlin's choice to be such a poet all the time. Arthur hasn't been inside Merlin's body for more than a few hours, and already he is turning into a maudlin bard himself, huh...

/

Arthur sighs; bringing himself back to the present - only to be struck by Merlin yet again.

Merlin has by now disrobed of everything except for the leather, which he has rolled up to his chest (logic; it would take too much time to tie it up all once more), and the tunic, which he now holds tightly in a bundle against his chest too, even if (and no doubt exactly because) it must get in his vision range as he enters the water. The lengths Merlin now goes again, simply to avoid to *see* - treating his body with the utmost respect, even when it is betraying him?

It should be insignificant, but the whole endeavour screams once more just how *devoted* Merlin always is, to him; and it is honestly dumbfounding.

He has been willing to die for me. And more than once.

The thought slices through Arthur's mind; as usual charged with guilt, and heartbreaking, yet oddly sweet.

Arthur doesn't understand: he has truly done very little to earn such high esteem - and that's an euphemism. Getting the man in the stocks? Letting him drink poison destined for him? Having his only friend die?

But you bet Arthur cherishes it all the same. And he wants - oh, he WANTS - to be worthy of it. Not because it's what he ought to do, repaying kindness with kindness, loyalty with loyalty; and definitely not because he owes Merlin a friend - you can't replace a friend (even if Arthur never actually had a friend, he knows that it's supposed to be a special, powerful, unique bond). Not even because Merlin does indeed makes him want to be a better man - even if that's true, and definitely positive for the future of Camelot. But simply because HE. WANTS. TO. Arthur has realized by now how he is always tempted, whenever they are together: either to act silly in order to cause a smile; or to provoke Merlin until he bites. Both reactions feel peculiarly satisfying; spreading a pleasant warmth through his whole being - and Arthur just always has to smile...

So.

On impulse, Arthur disrobes Merlin's lower half and enters the (indeed very cold) water while holding his tunic bundled up too, keeping his eyes stubbornly fixed on his own body sinking until the water reaches up to above its waist, as Merlin sits on his knees in the middle of the stream. And yes, the fact that Arthur has just chosen to abide by Merlin's stubborn dedication on that matter, instead of letting his perpetual interest about literally everything run free, for once, (because yes, if he hadn't witnessed Merlin's commitment, Arthur might have taken a look at Merlin's body, out of sheer curiosity; he wouldn't though, not from now on...), is both a pledge and a self-serving whim.

Merlin, drawn by the sounds, turns to him with questioning eyebrows, and Arthur sheepishly drops on his knees next to him: "I thought it unfair to let you have all the fun on your own. Now, ready to scare the fish?"

Merlin howls with laughter. Arthur decides it's definitely worth playing silly while freezing his ass off.

.

(Imbolc = 31 january)

Feel free to come and fangirl with me over 1.01 and then scream with me over 1.10 !

On a side note, I'm sorry but not sorry about that fish line? It was *totally* unplanned but then it just rolled out and I went 'yep, sure, arthur would, totally; it stays!' ?

.

VI. THE PRINCE'S PART (ALTERNATE ARTHUR/MERLIN POV)

They get out; get dried; put their clothes back on. Merlin ties the towel to the branch, for future use.

Then, on their way back to the castle, Arthur asks Merlin about his agenda for the day.

Merlin gives him a look - like he's unsure whether Arthur means it. Arthur gives him a look back - meaning he isn't joking indeed.

Merlin smiles, eyes full of mirth: "Your chambers are a complete mess, your clothes need washing, your boots need cleaning, your dogs need exercising, your fireplace needs sweeping, your bed needs changing and, oh, *someone* needs to muck out your stables." Merlin sobers up. "But we have more pressing matters at hand; so I think you can consider yourself free for the day."

Arthur is taken aback. He recognizes his own words, of course. It's both baffling and humbling - that Merlin can quote him, months later? and that Merlin has omitted one part and one part only in his old speech, because they both know his armour doesn't need any repairing (the devotion Merlin shows those metal pieces echoing the devotion he shows to Arthur himself)? Arthur had first planned to give a playful thankful bow; but it would feel wrong.

"So. I'll go bother Geoffrey. Try to get him to show me where the secret books are hidden. I'll tell him Gaius has found a strange herb and wants to make sure it isn't dangerous or something..."

/

Merlin has to give Arthur that: he is indeed insightful.

The mention of Gaius's name though has Merlin slightly panicking again: Gaius doesn't know yet about their current situation. What if he mentions 'something' upon walking on Arthur thinking he is him? No. Merlin has to be there when they'll get to see Gaius.

"Speaking about Gaius? Stay clear from his chambers. I doubt he'll be as magnanimous as I am. He'll do that thing with his eyebrow and have you pick herbs and brewing healing potions and concocting ointments before you even got a chance to tell him about our predicament - he's really dedicated in my education as a physician, you know..."

"And I believe you rather enjoy it."

"I do, indeed. I mean... It's fascinating - do you know that the same stuff can cure you or kill you sometimes, depending on the dosis? Anyway, who wouldn't want to know how to save lives?" Merlin can't help but twitch. "I'm not sure I'm any good at it though..."

/

There is a flash of guilt in Merlin's disheartened eyes, and Arthur realizes two things:

1) Merlin feels responsible for having been unable to save his friend Will. Which is understandable, because Merlin must have gathered by now some knowledge from Gaius's lessons; but heartbreaking - because Arthur has seen enough arrow's wounds to know that Will's could never have healed - and perplexing - because Will has died to save *him*, not Merlin; so why would Merlin think the guilt was his to start with? and how come Arthur has never felt like Merlin might blame him for it either?

2) Merlin's face is always *transparent* - a fact Arthur truly appreciates on Merlin's face - but a fact that could turn out problematic, now that it's on his own face...

"Let's get back to my chambers. There is still something you should master better before the pleas."

/

And that's how Merlin finds himself positioned by Arthur in front of a mirror.

"What do you see, Merlin?" Arthur asks.

"Well, you?" Merlin feels he's missing Arthur's point, but he has no clue...

"Do you? Because I see my body, I see my clothes; but I do not see the Prince of Camelot - I'd like to think I play it better than that - and I must be, because my Father would not allow *this* I assure you - at least I hope or the kingdom is doomed." Arthur ends on a sigh, shakes his head, and then turns commanding eyes back towards Merlin via the mirror. "Close your eyes, Merlin. Think of me. I mean, *picture* me; and more especially, picture me at any official activity you've served me through. See how I walk, how I stand, how I sit, how I move, how I look?"

Merlin does as asked, searching through his memories. After a while, he nods.

"Got it?"

"I think?"

"Then open your eyes, Merlin. What do you see?"

Merlin understands now. He can't help but sigh helplessly. "Not the Prince of Camelot. Obviously. I'm sorry Arthur, I guess I'm just not... majestic enough to play you."

"It's not that hard, Merlin. Come on; I'll explain. Ready?" Arthur grins at him via the mirror, exuding confidence - trust in him?; and Merlin would face (has faced) monsters to earn it indeed.

Merlin nods, their eyes still linked via the mirror.

"First thing first? You're slouching."

"Yes. (Merlin tries not to slouch; but is still not satisfied with the result) I think though the biggest problem is- There's something wrong with your face."

"Because you wear your heart on it, Merlin; and you mustn't. Believe me, you do not want to be lectured for hours about this by my Father..."

Arthur moves away, and Merlin can't see him anymore in the mirror. His voice is directing though, and Merlin focuses on the words to school his face.

"You're a prince, so you *must* always look like one. No matter what you do, you must always, *always*, look confident. That's the first strength of a kingdom - the strenghth of its ruler. That's what keeps your people safe. So. Chin up, Merlin. Square your shoulders. Stand tall - stand *proud*."

Merlin realizes the words are not Arthur's; they're Uther's. He wonders how often indeed Arthur has heared those words - most probably often enough to give himself a internal pep talk before any official anything apparently...

"That's better; but still not good enough. No matter how you feel inside must not show, Merlin. When you're tired, hide it. When you're sick, hide it. When you hurt, hide it. When you're stressed, hide it. When you worry, hide it. When you doubt, hide it. When you're bored, and even more when you disagree; hide it - it's disrespectful; and we do not want wounded pride to fester, don't we Merlin? When you're afraid, definitely hide it. When you're sad, hide it. And the trickiest part maybe: when you're happy, hide it too - or risk whatever is making you happy to be taken away: weakening you is weakening the kingdom; and its enemies will never hesitate to bring you down, if you let them see even an inch of an opportunity."

Merlin is shaken. He feels guilty, somehow. This is, certainly, too intimate. Merlin feels like he's intruding. This feels even more trespassing than being in Arthur's body. It's like being forced in Arthur's head, without his consent. It's nauseating.

"Again, Merlin. Your eyes; focus. It's a part; but it's part of your job. So for the love of Camelot, Merlin, please try harder. Your people reckon on you to lead them and protect them; so it's your duty to be a leader, and to be strong. Work hard; harder than anyone else. You *must* be an example, an inspiration. You must be admirable in everything, so that your people will follow you everywhere. But you must lead, Merlin; never follow. A ruler is alone - *must* be alone. Do not trust anyone; at least do not trust anyone more than anyone else, and surely not more than you trust yourself. Your own judgement must *never* be clouded."

Merlin can't help but turn towards Arthur at the words, both in disbelief and in ache... Because Merlin has grown up hiding, but he had never realized that Arthur had, too; and maybe even more than him. Arthur must not only always pretend and perpetually watch over his shoulder; he must pretend and watch over his shoulder *alone*. And Merlin can only imagine how hard that must have been, and be. Back at Ealdor, Merlin had (and still has) his loving mother, and he had Will. Even here, now, Merlin has Gaius. And somehow, yes: he has Arthur too, Merlin suddenly realizes; and then feels ashamed, because he can't help but feel blessed - Arthur trusts him. Because Arthur is definitely less guarded around him, isn't he? When it's just the two of them; Arthur and Merlin? Arthur laughs, Arthur doubts, Arthur *shows*; maybe not everything - but that's probably not possible as he is so trained - but something at least always shines through; even if it's by putting his feet on his face... But Merlin knows now, how rare and precious it truly is. They can never be friends, maybe; but Arthur trusts him. That's undeniable; and that's everything, somehow.

"Do not look at me; look at the mirror, Merlin. Harden your eyes. Smile; always politely, even when you don't want to smile at all; more genuinely, when it's true - but never let it go up to your eyes. First thing about tomorrow too; as we're at it. Hear everyone out. Listen with your full attention to everyone; whether you agree or not. Never decides right away; except if it's necessary, in war time. Your decisions must be thought upon; never a spur of the moment. If something is unclear, do not let it show during concil. If you favor a position, do not let it show during concil. If you disagree, do not let it show during concil. You need further advice, or even only further information? Seek the appropriate person in private; ask man to man. They will see the honor in it if it's positive, and be thankful you kept it private if it's negative. Also. You must be ready to be impartial, Merlin; because you do not need to be kind, but you must always be fair. You may - and you will, unfortunately - make mistakes; but never ackowledge them. Fix them. If you can't; repair as much damage as possible. Learn from your errors, in order to never make the same mistake again. But never apologize. Come on Merlin; I'm sure you can do it. You're nearly there."

More over, Merlin realizes the Arthur he gets to see nowadays - the true Arthur - has always been there already, even under the pretense of the moron. Kilgarrah is wrong. His destiny isn't to change Arthur; because there is nothing to change. Arthur already has everything to be a great king, the greatest king, all on his own.

And so, Merlin is *angry*. He has now yet another reason to despise Uther, it seems - scarring his child on the inside in such a way. Of course Arthur always feels inadequate; of course Arthur feels lacking; of course the only bond Arthur values is the one with his fellow knights - ride to glory or death, together? It's the only bond Uther has authorized him to authorize himself to ever have... But Merlin's anger is a good thing, apparently - because whenever Merlin thinks about Uther, Arthur finds that he's playing the Prince's part better.

"There Merlin, you have it. See? Right there. Lock it; just like that. That's good enough for anyone looking today; because believe me, someone *will* be looking, even if only my Father and not the one who switched us or anyone else with ill intentions - there is *always* *someone* looking, Merlin."

Fine. Think about Uther; until the pleas are done. Merlin can do it; and he'll gladly do it. He'll probably gladly do anything; for Arthur. He can still have a cry or hit a wall afterwards, right...

.

Arthur needs a hug. I volunteer. Anyone with me? (besides Merlin, obviously...)

[khantipode]

Fragmented Truths: Final Mix Changelog

Like with The Year Between, I had gone through Fragmented Truths to make edits to adjust for various problems throughout the fic. The original version had many issues, from Riku's choice at the Door to Darkness being underplayed to Riku Replica's arc being repetitive and not showing much progress. The climax was also lacking in many areas, and Riku's arc with him accepting his darkness was not handled with as much finesse as I would have liked. Thus, I went through the fic and did many edits to address these faults and bring the story up to my current standard.

For those who wanna see the re-edits blind, the vast majority of the edits are in chapters involving Riku Replica. The Agrabah arc and Sword in the Stone arc got a new climax, Great Mouse Detective saw several revisions across its chapters and a refined climax, and everything from Chapter 30 onward has seen some form of re-editing on the whole. These edits were done in 2015 - 2017, but are still worth noting here. I will be categorizing these changes by arcs, barring interlude chapters which will be placed in their own little category. The summaries of changes will cover the broad strokes of what has been altered. If you wish to see the earlier versions of Antipode chapters, you can find my drafts over here! So without further ado...

Chapter 3: The Hollow Bastion crew only learn of Riku's choice at the Door to Darkness now, rather than having heard about it before. As a result, there is some justified anger directed Riku's way. Leon and Beast are particularly angered, with the former urging them to go back to the door ASAP with reinforcements. The importance of Kairi continuing to train is also emphasized. Chapter 7: The original climax to this world has been completely rewritten so that even after Madam Mim gets sick, she stubbornly continues to fight, even summoning droves of Heartless. There is a big, over the top battle with the wild witch and Arthur plays a more active role by taking Excalibur and participating in the fight. Kairi also encourages him, as she too is new to combat. Sora's reasons for avoiding his friends have also changed. He briefly considers going to Merlin to help- at least so he can talk, if he can't change back outright, but the light from Excalibur leaves him uncomfortable, and is left contemplating his Heartless status while his friends walk the path of heroes. Agrabah Arc (Chapter 8, Chapter 11): Riku Replica and Sora showed more caution while dealing with Jafar. Rep is also far less hostile/spiteful toward Aladdin, with much of his vitriol directed at Riku. The climax for this world has been completely rewritten, with a greater emphasis on action and stakes, culminating in an over the top battle against Genie Jafar. Genie himself is also far more involved in this climax, and there are way more environmental hazards. This was more or less a complete rewrite to give the world a more satisfying finale. Chapter 12: The heroes are no longer aggressors to Seifer. Riku even emphasizes that they're just there to relax. The need to cool down after a rough journey is very heavily emphasized, with Seifer's fragile ego spurring the fight along. Riku's attack against Seifer is also given far more dramatic weight, and Kairi uses her light to try and soothe Riku. Riku's decision at the Door also comes back to haunt him, and he contemplates if he's truly a worthy hero.

Jungle Book Arc (Chapter 13, Chapter 14): Fairly simple changes here. There is a new scene at the start of the chapter where DiZ provides information to the heroes on particularly noteworthy worlds worth investigating in order to justify their presence there. He also gives some information on the inhabitants to justify the animal transformations. Additionally, the heroes are much more exhausted as they adjust to their new bodies and the animals have at least tried to put up a good fight against the Heartless beforehand. They also are more responsible in their reactions to Mowgli's stubborn and reckless behaviors.

Monstro Arc (Chapters 19 - 20): Riku Replica is all the more invested in helping Pinocchio and Geppeto and also shows much more regard for Pinocchio's safety. The only reason he doesn't send Geppetto and Pinoke to Traverse Town right away is due to the looming reminder from Saix that he is to focus on his mission before his personal interests. Riku and co. are also less hostile about the Replica upon learning that Geppetto and Pinoke truly believe him to be Riku and play along while contemplating if perhaps the Replica is more than just a vengeful pawn. Additionally, the Gummi Ship was lost in the crash, so the heroes have to find it before they can make their repairs and leave. Pinocchio runs off on his own, the heroes carefully contemplate how to proceed, and Kairi uses her light to help calm Riku and stop him from accidentally shooting dark fire again. The Parasite Cage now possesses a neutralizing gas that weakens Riku Replica, making it harder for him to escape. The characterization has been smoothed out so that Rep's brattiness is less apparent as well.

Chapter 21: Riku's use of darkness against DiZ remains a bigger talking point, both with DiZ and especially Donald. Riku's friends offer to support him, but he ultimately steps back to reflect and cool down. Riku Replica swears to close the Door to Darkness once Sora regains his heart, and then his friends can return home.

Great Mouse Detective Arc (Chapters 22 - 27): The heroes not only have more information about this world beforehand, but they opt to do more reconnaissance before they transform. The heroes are much more civil with Basil, Olivia provides more information about Fidget, and overall everyone exercises much more caution, even having Mrs. Juddson and Olivia go back to the Gummi Ship... until Olivia sneaks out and follows the heroes. Basil also prioritizes his personal Heartless research and the world over Olivia's sob story until he learns of Fidget's involvement. Riku's darkness once again is given more weight in this arc, as is his choice at the Door to Darkness. His friends take the matter far more seriously, leading to some awkward tension among the group. Luxord provides a better cover story for why he doesn't kill Donald and uses his temporal magic to repeatedly subdue him. Ratigan's initial fight has received a drastic overhaul to up the stakes and provide a more thrilling clash, and the chase scene and subsequent clock tower battles have received fine tuning as well. Most notably, Kairi now joins Riku and Basil in the battle, with Kairi offering additional support to Riku as he decides to accept his dark side. Chapter 29: Once again, Riku's darkness issues are treated far more seriously than before. His friends are scared of what may happen to him in light of past villains, but also wish to offer their support. Riku Replica is also less fixated on Riku having "stolen" his friends and instead offers support to Sora in hopes that he can rekindle his friendship with Jack and the others.

Halloween Town Arc (Chapters 30 - 31): Riku Replica and Roxas arrive first, and instead of hiding, join Jack, Sally, and Finkelstein and provide their side of the story. As a result, when Riku's group does arrive, Jack and co. have a skewed perspective, and the heroes handle it far more respectfully. Riku Replica's hostility is also toned down as. He's less angry at Riku's kindness and more confused and afraid. Riku challenges the Replica to prove he's a fake, the Replica questions Riku's use of the darkness as well as abandoning the Door. The Roxas and Kairi scene differs as well, with Roxas using his magic to try and ward off Donald and Kairi getting caught in between. Like previous edits, Riku's choice at the Door to Darkness also comes up here.

These edits ultimately serve to create a smoother sense of progress in Riku Replica's development as a character. He accepts that "the Fake" has changed, but is left with conflicted feelings. However, at this point, he's starting to realize he cares about Riku and wants to be his friend, even if he won't outright admit it.

Chapter 32: Riku owns up to his mistakes more readily here, and the interaction between him and DiZ is far more civil. Additionally, DiZ does acknowledge that an alliance with the Replica could be useful but urges the heroes to exercise caution. Ultimately, everyone communicates more and uses their heads far more efficiently than in the old version.

Castle Oblivion (Chapters 33 - 34): The flashbacks have been tweaked to include new scenes, heightened stakes, and updated introspection for Riku Replica to better respect his current views of Riku. He is much more conflicted by his memories of the "Fake" after everything he's seen, and additionally, Kairi in his memories is far more sympathetic than wicked, fitting with her remaining a Princess of Heart. Ultimately, the true complications of Rep's feelings toward Riku continue to progress.

Endgame (Chapters 35 - 46): The changes in these chapters range from small characterization and logic fixes to more noteworthy changes. For example, Sora tries to take Zexion hostage, but he manages to open a corridor as the Sleep spell sets in. Xemnas threatens Riku Replica outright by telling him that if he does not kill Riku, he and Vexen will flip a kill switch of sorts that will end his friends. This pushes the Replica into a difficult spot because he genuinely cares for Riku and has accepted that he trusts him over the Organization. Roxas, Kairi, and Riku's meeting is handled with far more civility and maturity from all sides. Roxas is no longer as angry about Riku and Kairi's memories and experiences. Instead, he engages in battle because Riku and Kairi have worked with Sora and he seeks to detain Riku in hopes that doing so will "fix this whole mess." Kairi gets more involved in the fight, trying to stop the boys from hurting one another, and though Riku still hits her with Dark Aura, it's only a light grazing, but the damage still remains. This gives his darkness surge more weight than before. Roxas considers working with the heroes but needs time to think. Meanwhile, Riku Replica is faced with the crushing dilemma of fighting and killing Riku to save his friends or defying Xemnas. This serves as the catalyst for the conflict, and when he and Riku meet in Traverse Town, he is far more forlorn and even admits why he has to fight them, all while showing a little fear. Sora and Xemnas' confrontation has refined dialogue, and when Sora is sent through a corridor, rather than Xemnas sending him to Twilight Town, it's Sora who tries to redirect the portal before he faints.

The climax on the whole has revised characterization and action. As Riku and the Replica fight in Castle Oblivion, their magic sends them crashing through floors, while the memories within the castle alter the terrain of the battle. Riku Replica is far more troubled by his conflicting feelings as well, while Riku offers to help find another way. Meanwhile, Kairi's side of the climax has seen changes as well, with Donald and Goofy sharing their weapons as well as her fighting to the brink of exhaustion even when that fails. Roxas tries to urge her to stop, and she refuses. It's this raw will power and deep desire to save Riku that helps her manifest her Keyblade. Sora's side of the fight has also been reworked with characterization and combat fixes. He even steals one of Roxas' swords to shake up the battle. He keeps Roxas busy outside the castle while the others rush inside. Meanwhile, Riku's darkness goes out of control in this version due to exhaustion coupled with seeing Rep's worst memories coupled with an illusion of Ansem appearing to taunt Riku until, at last, he cracks under the pressure. Axel also intervenes when Riku goes berserk in this version before Namine smashes his heart. And since Rep did not discard his cloak in this re-edit, it's easier for her to tell them apart- the heart smash is a more conscious choice to save the Replica as a result. In the aftermath of the fight, the Replica has already accepted he's the copy- he even admits that he'd known for a while, but simply didn't want to admit it. He's much more remorseful and heartbroken as a result, and this reflects the overall tone of the scene. Additionally, Sora lets Roxas enter the castle once he senses something has gone amiss. Axel offers to distract Zexion while Roxas, Rep, and Namine take out Vexen to disable the alleged kill-switches and thwart any further Replication projects. They learn that the kill switches were never real. It was all just a ploy by Xemnas. Roxas leaves Rep this time out of a desire to keep the Org of his friends' trail and to try and find Sora and reach a better understanding about himself. The final significant changes include Riku's reason for being contained to the simulation being the out of control burst of darkness at the end of the final battle as well as his amnesia, a new set of scenes where Axel and Zexion investigate Vexen's death followed by an interrogation, and tweaks to the subsequent Organization meeting to show that they are already aware of Marluxia's traitorous intentions and are merely playing along while sending Axel off on his mission. Other characterization changes exist, but these are the primary ones.

[dylassu]

Drabble: ‘You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me.’

Dylas would never admit his true feelings for anything. He lived his life guarded, hurt from past experiences. He lived his life for him, hiding everything underneath his anger, his frustrations. Hiding away from his anxieties. Hiding his kindness from a world that hurt him hundreds of years ago under a cold, angry demeanor to keep people away.

At least, that was before he met Rosalind.

Something about her just left a spark inside him. Was it his because he felt bad for the first time they met? When he lashed out on her crying in Arthur’s office? From watching her break down in tears one early Spring day after her father announced she would be getting married soon, and to a stranger nonetheless. Was it because months of passing notes back and forth left him feeling- and later realizing- that he had a friend. 

His first friend.

His first….

Yeah….

The first person that made him admit all his insecurities in his journal late at night, with only the light from a single candle guiding his poorly written thoughts onto the paper. 

Dylas cared for her in ways he couldn’t admit. He would stop the world for her if he could- if he even admitted it to himself. Rosalind’s softness made him soft, turned him away from thinking others were still out to hurt him. To harm him. To force him to commit sacrifice to please them.

Did she care for him? He didn’t know and he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t care if she did or not. He should never care. Not anymore.

Will you take me there?

The question came one rainy afternoon. It had just finished pouring, as the rain droplets hit the roof of the restaurant slower than during the storm just an hour earlier. Rosalind had came to Selphia to visit her uncle in tow of her older (and just fucking stupid) brother. The former guardian can’t remember what brought on the question, why he mentioned the Water Ruins, but Rosalind’s question was raw. It stung, it stung in deep.  Dylas never told her about his time as a guardian, about his past. Why did she care so much?

(He noticed the blush on her face as she spoke to him time and time again, but honestly, he wasn’t even sure why she would blush at him. Why else would she? What did someone of her status want to do in some awful ruins filled with goblins? Or spend an afternoon fishing for a few different types of fish, laughing as Rosalind tried to cast her reel by herself. Chatting about Rosalind’s newest book or what experiment she tried recently under a tree as the waves crashed by.)

Dylas’ feet step on leaves, dead and brown from the recent cold front. He stares at the ruins in front of him- in front of them. He can’t forget that Rosalind is here with him, standing by him. Holding her guard. Being strong. Maybe even pretending to be strong.

He takes another step and leaves loudly crunching under his black, combat boots.The weather isn’t even below the cold point, yet Rosalind is beside him a large winter shawl over her dress. He would joke with her, with a small smile, that a dress wasn’t the right dressing for a ‘trip’ to the Water Ruins, but he can’t today.

Dylas can’t even smile as he stares at his former prison.

Getting past the monsters isn’t hard- not one bit. He’s become better at fighting in this form than he was when he first woke up. Constant fights with Doug has taught him how to fight with his fists, not hooves. He’s learned better magic- his long ranged attacks have become more powerful thanks to Arthur and Leon’s (despite being a bit useless) pretty decent job at upgrading them.

But the hard part was feeling Rosalind grab him, not in fear from the monsters.

“You can’t tell me someone like you is scared of a little goblin?”

“I am not, Dylas!” She pouted up at him, her arms still holding onto the fur on his light overcoat. It’s c-cute. Kind of. A little bit. “I have not been around many monsters, as you know Father and Max don’t-”

Rosalind continues, but all Dylas can hear is the sounds of rustling from behind the lavender haired duchess. He looks up and it takes a second for his eyes to adjust, to spot a Sky Fish coming out at them. It’s ready to fight, and it’s fucking pissed.

“Move!” Dylas roars. Pushing himself in front of Rosalind, he takes the hit from the Sky Fish in his chest, and then one to his forearm. It hurts for a second, just a split second. He’s had worse injuries. He’s been hit with stronger power. The former guardian rushes to the Sky Fish and digs his dagger to its side. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Three times. The ugly monster goes down without a hard fight. Returning back to where it belongs.

They’re safe, they’re safe. He repeats in his head.

Rosalind is safe.

Dylas catches his breath- was he really out of breath from such a simple fight? He can’t hear anything- He doesn’t look behind him, he doesn’t hear Rosalind’s screams of worry. He doesn’t, or more like couldn’t,  hear Rosalind’s pleas to ask him to be careful. 

He doesn’t notice the duchess come beside him, checking on him, asking for him.

He doesn’t notice the blood pouring from the side of his arm. 

What he does notice is the sting in his arm as something presses against it. His head pops up to look around the ruined surroundings in fear. The pressure wasn’t intense, but it was still painful. He couldn’t see the attacker from where he was looking. COuld it be in the corners? Hiding from them and planning it’s awful attack. How in danger were they? How in danger was Rosalind?

Rosalind.

“You are okay, Dylas. You are okay, Dylas.”

He hears that. He hears cooing. Sweet cooing.

“It looks to be just a flesh wound. I pray there is no damage, but we should get you looked when we arrive back to the kingdom.”

The voice is so sweet; reminds him of the voice of someone from hundreds of years ago. Before any of the pain. Before Dylas was… Dylas.

“I’m glad you are safe, Dylas.”

He feels his hair being petted now- the feeling slowly edging up to his fluffy ears and rubbing them. 

Dylas comes down. He comes back. He doesn’t need to fight to survive, just fight to keep her…

Alive.

Keep Rosalind-

Rosalind.

His eyes finally trace back to his side, where he finds a white cloth around his forearm. There’s barely any blood coming out from the white cloth, but it stings. It stings just a bit.

His eyes finally trace back to worried, light green eyes looking back into his amber eyes like they could see everything. His pain, his trauma. What these ruins mean to him.

Why he would go berserk like that suddenly and not come down.

“Dylas…” Rosalind begins. Her voice is so soft, she’s so close to him. Her face is just inches from his now… When did she move that close? Had she been this close the whole time? He’s sure she’s gonna yell at him, call him reckless and stupid. That’s what he would do. That’s what he would do to someone else.

But… she doesn’t. Rosalind whispers something softly, that at first Dylas can’t hear. But it doesn’t take too long for her to repeat it again, louder. Yet still in such a silent whisper.

“I love you,” she whispers ever so gently. Her hand hovers over his like a ghost- not like a ghost of his past though. She was there, she was real.

Rosalind was a real person. There, in front of him, confessing her love to someone who didn’t know how to love back. Didn’t know if he should. And Dylas didn’t know how to respond to that- how does one even respond to a confession? By thanking them? Denying them? Lying? Admitting his own true feelings that he had hidden back for so long. “Don’t.

Rosalind’s face droops, but Dylas continues. “You shouldn’t love me.” Her face droops more, her heart must be broken. But it’s better to save everything now than to make her live a life of pain from being around him.

“You weren’t supposed to fall in love with me. I’m a monster- I’m an awful person. I’m angry, I’ve hurt people. I’m a man who shouldn’t have anything fucking good, Rosalind. And you- look at you. A duchess, engaged to some guy you barely know. How can you love me?”

The words come out so fast, yet it feels like Dylas spends a year mouthing off to the duchess. Even that, can’t break a duchess’ heart who’s lived for others her whole life. “But I do.” Rosalind furrowed her brow. “But I do love you. I do not love William- I cannot love a man I don’t know, Dylas.” Her eyes start to water. “But I know you, and for that, I love you. I am so in love with you, Dylas.”

That’s what pains him to know. That she loves him now. That she’s seen the worst of him, maybe not even the worst, but she loves him.

She’s engaged. She could have a safe life with this William guy- whoever he is. Whatever he does, he’s probably safe. He doesn’t have problems. He probably wasn’t also turned into a monster to protect a town like… Dylas.

Dylas ignores those tears coming out of Rosalind's eyes. He ignores the sounds of her voice breaking. He ignores his own feelings that have been laying dormant for months now. “You shouldn’t.”

Rosalind doesn’t say anything, but the tears don’t let up. She stares at him with that pitiful (in a cute way too) look, heart hurt but also… What point of ‘don’t love me’ does she not get? 

Rosalind moves her hand from his hair, his ears, back to his shoulder. “Dylas…” She whispers. Her voice is so hurt, yet she knows. “I love you.”

His heart hurts.

Her heart hurts.

Can he even… can he ever be truthful about how he feels.

About how on nights he can’t sleep well or days where customers (or fucking Doug) piss him off, he goes and reads her letters. How he feels like he’s important when he’s with her. How she tries to learn about his passions and in turn, Dylas is trying to learn more about her. How he’s been reading the book she sent off to him months ago but he won’t tell her yet. He wanted to surprise her. 

He paused. Could she- could Rosalind be the one who taught him how to live in the presence, live for someone else who wasn’t him? 

To be the one person he could end up telling everything too- instead of pretending to be secretive?

His uninjured arm moves to where Rosalind’s hand is placed on his shoulder as he steadies himself with the arm that’s bandaged. He looks at her in the eyes back, straight faced. His face feels wet, but he doesn’t care right now. There’s only one thing he cares about.

“I may love you too.”

~~~

“Even though the young boy wasn’t sure where he was from, he knew one thing. The flower town was where he belonged. Monster or human- or both- he knew he was home wherever the flowers were.”

It’s a sight Dylas never thought he would see; something he didn’t think, all those hundreds of years ago, that he would see. His wife and child, cuddled up in a bed together, reading the ninth picture book of the night. Their hair, lavender and dark blue, beaming against the child’s night light on the white and pastel green nightstand.

He watches from the doorway, a smile on his face as the boy- his four year old son- looks back up to his mother with a small frown on his pale face. “Can we read another story, mama?” He asks, almost pleading to his mother, with a high pitched voice. 

The woman laughs as she closes the book gently and places it on the nightstand beside her. Her hand goes to her stomach where a bump peaks up through her pink nightgown. “We read so many tonight, Victor.” She answers to the boy- Victor- pressing a gentle kiss onto his forehead. “We can read more books tomorrow when you awake if you would like, my little dove.”

“Your mom needs her rest, kiddo.” Dylas speaks out, finally. Two pairs of light green eyes stare 

One he never dreamed of, to have a love, to have a son, and to be awaiting the arrival of the second child of theirs.

“May I please sleep with you and dad?” Victor pouted from his bed, his face resembling Rosalind’s side. The little boy was too much like his mother. Sweet, polite, already calling people by their last names and learning how to be a proper young man (unlike the two unruly, royal children that were his perfect son’s age…). Victor looked at him with big eyes; big sweet eyes that Dylas was slowly learning to say no to.

Dylas barely opened his mouth when Rosalind gently responded instead. “No, sweetheart. Not tonight. We need you to sleep in your bed tonight like a big boy.” Her hand patted through their son’s dark blue hair, only for it to rest on his cheek. “We need you to learn how to sleep on your own for your little sister’s sake.”

Victor’s pout stayed on his face. “Okay, mama.” The little boy mumbled before getting up from his spot on the bed. “Good night mama-” he said, ever so sweetly, kissing his mother on the cheek. Victor moved down to his pregnant mother’s stomach, giving it a gentle kiss as well. “Good night baby sister.”

Dylas really can’t help but chuckle at the sweetness of his son . His son- his precious, pretty adorable son if he had to say so- was becoming the young man that would make Rosalind proud. His anger passed over a generation, his anxieties skipped over Victor. 

There were days when Victor was a newborn, crying softly in his makeshift crib in their cabin by Selphia lake, where Dylas felt like he couldn’t take it. When Dylas felt like fatherhood was a curse- no wonder his own parents had left him behind so young. He remembered the moment where he realized everything needed to change, when he screamed at a two month old Victor to shut up from the overwhelming frustrations of not being able to get his son to sleep peacefully. The look on Rosalind’s face- absolute horror. Dylas never wanted to see his wife look at him in such horror again, like he was a monster.

Parenting was an adventure. Not one he wanted to sign up for so quickly, but Victor was perfect.

He was normal too- no features from Dylas’ former guardian years. No horse ears. No fluffy tail that became matted in water. 

Dylas just hoped every morning that the new baby would be just as perfect as her older brother. He knew she would- but there were still nights where he stared at the ceiling until he fell asleep, what if’s plaguing his mind.

“I think someone needs to tell Victor good night too. Do you not think so, Dylas?”

Dylas looked at his wife, then back to his son. Sauntering over, he gave the boy a kiss on the top of his dark blue hair. “Good night, Victor.” Dylas whispered to his son. He helped the boy into his bed, covering him with blankets as Rosalind handed him his favorite plush- a worned out Blue that Porcoline had given as a present for the boy when he was just a small newborn. Back then, the boy was so small that he could fit in one of Dylas’ hands. Now, he was so big, yet still so tiny that he was still dwarfed by the Blue stuffed plush.

“Good night, mon ange.” Rosalind copies Dylas, pressing yet another kiss onto the same spot that Dylas has. She gets out of the child’s bed by herself (“Dylas, darling, we are fine. I’m not even that far along, my Dylas”) and walks to beside her husband, looking at her son as he slowly closes his eyes. “Dream of something lovely tonight for me, dear.”

“Dream of beating up Doug for me.”

“Dylas.”

Rosalind stifles her laughter as she grabs her husband’s hand into her own hand and walks him out of the child’s bedroom. Victor doesn’t even react to his parents leaving or to Dylas comment about beating up his “uncle” Doug, as the child is slowly drifting off to dreamland. The door gently shuts behind them and Rosalind smiles at her husband.

It’s the same smile she gave him when they admitted they loved each other. The same one she gave him when he proposed, when they were married, when she told him she was pregnant (twice!), and when Victor was born. The smile she gave him when he burst the door of their bedroom, breaking it off the hidge ever so slightly, while she held the small bundle close to her chest. The words he can still recall that gave him a smile every time he thought about it- “he is okay, my love.”

A warm, sweet, smile that made him think of nothing but her. Everything else in the world stopped when Rosalind gave him that smile.

Suddenly, her smile changed into a wince. And that changes everything. The world can stop for another reason.

“Are you doing alright, baby?” Dylas worrisomely asks. Rosalind shakes her own head as a ‘no’, but there’s a part of Dylas that doesn’t believe it. “Baby giving you difficulties again?”

“Are you asking to be my overprotective husband and worry for hours over me and your daughter or are you asking to check?”

Clever girl. Always had one up on him. Always knew how to get over his head.

“Checking, baby.”

Rosalind lets out a sigh as she moves into a hug to her husband. Arms wrapped around his neck as she whispers, “it’s just a difficult day for us, that is all, Dylas. But we are fine. We are fine.”

The confirmation doesn’t help his overprotectiveness, but it makes his heart feel softer. 

Dylas curls up into her neck, pressing a kiss onto his wife’s neck. “I thought it was something else. I thought the baby was making you sick or hurting you.” 

The pregnancy with Victor had been so easy, but with this one, he worried every time Rosalind mentioned the baby wasn’t kicking as much or that the baby kicked too much. There was no inbetween with the child. Already causing her parents worry.

Dylas fucking loved her so much and he hadn’t even met her.

Rosalind returns the affection to him by brushing his long periwinkle hair out with her fingers. Her fingers move up to his ears, petting them ever so delicately. “This is what I love about you, my love.” She whispers to him. Still just standing outside their young son’s bedroom as he falls asleep. “Your true caring nature is what made me fall in love with you.”

“You weren’t supposed to fall for me,” he says to her, a blush and large smile on his face.

Rosalind laughed, ever so gently, ever so sweetly. He could feel his heart doing backflips in his chest, just from her gentle and kind laugh that he heard every morning when Victor curled up in bed with his parents. That he got to hear when he kissed her one too many times before he left for work at the restaurant before Rosalind pushed him out of the house herself. 

“But I did.” She smiled as they walked down the short hallway to their own bedroom. “I fell for you, I fell in love with you.” Dylas opens the door for them once they get to their creaky (but it wasn’t a problem) bedroom door. Rosalind walks in front of him, pulling him by his hands with her. “I was- I was just so lucky to meet you when I did.”

Dylas closed the door behind them, knowing that in just a few hours it would be cracked open when little emerald eyes will peer in with silent pleads to sleep with his parents. “You did.” He repeated with a grin on his face. “You did, and I fell for you as well.” He sat his hand on top of the bump, smiling down at it. “And we have a beautiful family, we’re going to have a really beautiful family.”

“Such as in one of those romance novels I would read when I was younger,” Rosalind jokes as she curls up to Dylas’ chest. She places her hand, perfect and soft, on top of his hand, rough from a past he can’t forget and a current present where he’s content. The child kicks in place softly, to remind their parents that they are there. They are real. “We lived happily ever after, my love.”

Dylas doesn’t need to say anything after. He doesn’t need to confirm her words, because it’s true. His love for Rosalind would never die, never leave, and he would never regret the past. Those hundred years ago were moments that wouldn’t leave his mind. They would be stuck with him forever until the day he passed on.

But all that pain did something good. It brought him to Rosalind. It brought him letters that he’s kept, hidden in a box that maybe one day, he’ll show Victor and their unborn, unnamed, little baby. Maybe that one day, he’d tell his children about the day Rosalind told him she loved him at a place that caused him trauma and anger for hundreds of years. 

Her falling for him brought him true love. True, undying, love that he would be ever grateful for.

[darkgreiga]

Wishes, Dreams, and Memories Chapter 30

Fandom: Rune Factory 4 Rating: T (to be safe) Genre(s): Adventure, Hurt/Comfort Characters: Lest, Dolce, Pico, Amber, Dylas, Leon, Frey, Arthur, Margaret, Forte Summary:  She had a wish to see him again. He had a dream of her last moments. They had their memories of having only each other. The amnesiac Earthmate never knew that by bringing his best friend back wouldn’t make his daily life go back to normal. Nor did he know she was the key to his and his ancestors’ past. Chapters: list Navigation: <<prev   |   next>> Author’s notes: I’m ending this second arc with a bit of story about Frey’s past.

Chapter 30 – Hidden Truth

“There, that should do it,” Lest had already finished tying up Frey’s wound and stood up.

Frey got back to her feet as well, but her eyes trailed off from her bandaged wound to the tear on Lest’s clothes, “Are you sure about this? You can just leave it open until we get out of here.”

“Don’t worry, I have spare clothes back at the castle,” Lest started walking in front of her, looking around to find the way out of the castle, “Besides, I don’t think revealing that strange wound to the others is a good idea. Not to mention that you’ll get infections from that wound.”

“I guess you’re right…” Frey slowly followed Lest’s steps as she went to look at her wound once more, ‘The infection isn’t the problem at all. Explaining everything about this wound is the main problem here,’ Frey looked up at Lest, who continued walking ahead of her, ‘No, there will be a time to tell him everything at least. Even if he no longer remembers that day, he still deserves to know the truth…’

Frey let out a quiet sigh as she recalled the events of a certain day, a few years earlier.

“I’m home!” Lest cheerfully entered a small house and ran towards the dining room with a piece of scroll in his hand.

“Calm down, Lest!” Frey let out a laugh as Lest ran over to the table, “It’s not like I’m going anywhere, you know.”

“Here…” Lest was still panting, but slid the scroll across the table and towards Frey, “I… just got accepted… to Norad’s royal field research team!”

“H-Huh!?” Frey hurriedly put her bread back on the plate and opened up the scroll, “This is…”

“Yes!” Lest raised his fists in the air happily, “I’ll be joining your team and begin my first job with you!”

“O-Oh… Oh!” Frey tried concealing her dissatisfaction and forced a smile, “Well, that’s great! I’m so proud of you, Lest!”

“Thanks!” Lest took the scroll back and rose from his seat, “Okay, I’ll go and get my stuff packed so I’ll be good to go tomorrow!”

“W-Wait!” Frey tried calling out to Lest, but her brother had already ran out of the room. She let out a sigh as she leaned back on her seat, ‘This isn’t supposed to happen… Lest isn’t ready for this dangerous mission, especially after the news that a few Sechs soldiers had already infiltrated Norad…’

“You must be very proud of your brother, correct? After all, he is very good in both the kitchen and the battlefield!”

“Look at him tilling those fields like he was born to do it! Maybe you should try and learn from him about taking care of the fields, so I can leave the fields for you two to take care of.”

Frey suddenly remembered a few praises aimed towards Lest, ‘Well, the late old lady told me that he was good at the fields… Naturally, because we’re Earthmates…’

“Um… Frey… I think the turnips you planted a few days ago just rotted… Are you sure you still want to do this?”

‘Yes, I’m doing things for your sake,’ Frey replied to Lest’s voice in her mind as a frown formed on her lips, ‘I should have been able to do it, because I’m supposed to be an Earthmate as well…’

“That wooly doesn’t like to be petted, though. But I think you can tell what he was thinking too, right?”

Frey stayed silent as more and more memories come pouring into her mind, “I… can’t…” Frey looked down at her unfinished breakfast as she slowly rose from her seat, “It can’t be, right? If Lest has the power of an Earthmate, how come that I, his biological twin sister, doesn’t have that same power?”

“Frey?” the sudden call had surprised Frey, who turned to see Lest looking at her in confusion, “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine,” Frey quickly sat back down, “Do you need something from me?”

“No, I’m just letting you know that I’m going out to the market to buy some supplies,” Lest replied with a smile, “Do you want to come?”

Frey shook her head, “Sorry, I have something to take care of today.”

“Okay,” Lest nodded in understanding, “I’ll see you later then.”

Frey listened as Lest left the house before she went out of the dining room and into her room. Grabbing her own supplies as well as equipment, Frey headed out of the house and towards the Norad castle just a few houses away. Her decision might have been reckless, but she was determined to go with it just to protect her brother.

Frey pushed the big doors open and entered the research room, which was completely empty. She looked around the room and spotted a small bag with some blue light coming from the bag’s tiny holes. She took the bag in her hands and opened it, revealing a few glowing blue spheres inside it. She took out the smallest one and looked at it closely, brightening the room with faint blue light.

“They’re… the rune spheres Mom created before Ethelberd found out…” Frey began turning the glowing sphere around as she inspected every part of the sphere, “I feel a strange energy coming from it…”

The sound of clanging sword was suddenly heard from the other side of the door, surprising the green-haired young woman. She slowly pushed the door open, but only wide enough for her to look at the situation outside. Soldiers with two different uniforms were battling each other, much to her surprise. The scene of a soldier almost being stabbed prompted her to quickly close the door and blocked it with her body.

“T-The Sechs…” Frey whispered as her heart started beating fast from the sudden tension before she turned her attention to the rune sphere she was holding, “I… I’ll just borrow this for a while to protect myself,” she stuffed the sphere into her pocket before grabbing the rest of the spheres in the bag and put them into a shelf.

Frey peeked from the room once more to check the situation before she quietly made her way out of the room.  She went through the hall by hiding from vase to vase, making sure that none of the Sechs soldiers saw her movements. When she was near the gate, Frey was surprised by the sudden yelling coming from behind her. In shock, she turned and met eye to eye with one of the soldiers, much to her dismay.

“Soldiers! We have another witness here!” the soldier called out to his comrades before Frey ran through the gate.

A Sechs soldier suddenly came into her way as she was leaving, but Frey was ready to counter the sharp sword with her spear. She skillfully dodged the sword to the side and swung her spear to hit the soldier’s arm followed by a series of quick stabs. The armored soldier stepped back to avoid the quick stabs, only to crash into his fellow soldier and both of them fell.

Frey took the chance to run away from the castle, but not without a group of soldiers following behind her. She didn’t really pay any attention to where she was going anymore as she kept looking back to see that the soldiers were still following her around. She didn’t think of where she was now, but the forest in front of her could help her hide while she recovered her sore legs from all that running.

A few minutes passed after Frey went into the forest and the soldiers had seemed to lose her tracks. Panting, Frey walked through the same scenery of trees and bushes before she came out into a big clearing. She fell to her knees from exhaustion and tried to give herself some rest from the intense escape from the soldiers.

Frey sat under one of the trees for a short rest, but noticed a big tower when she looked at her front, “Huh?” Frey rose back to her feet and looked around in confusion, “This… this doesn’t look like the forest near the capital anymore…”

Frey approached the tower, only to notice that the rune sphere had started glowing a little brighter. She took the sphere out and looked at it once more, but her mind suddenly went blank as she stared at the object. She could feel the same strange power she felt back then as she held the sphere in her hands. The energy was pouring into her body and washed away any fatigue she had.

“I don’t feel tired anymore,” Frey noticed that she was feeling a lot more refreshed than she was moments ago, “Is this… the rune sphere’s power?”

“Yes, that is correct,” a voice suddenly was heard from behind the rustling bushes, surprising Frey as she looked around cautiously, “You’ve just felt a small portion of the runes’ power.”

“Who are you?! Show yourself!” Frey pointed her spear at the direction where the voice came from and a soldier walked out from between the trees, “That armor… I can see that you’re not just an ordinary Sechs soldier.”

“You’re correct, young lady,” the soldier stopped in front of Frey, just a few inches away from the tip of her spear, “But I have no obligation to reveal my full identity to an enemy I’m about to slay.”

“Listen well,” Frey glared at the soldier, “You’re not talking to an ordinary young lady as well,” she moved her spear a bit, pointing at the soldier’s neck, “I am the head of the field research team in Norad Kingdom, as well as the second-in-command of the king’s royal guards.”

“I see,” the soldier smirked before pulling out his sword, “Then I can finally fight against someone of my equal.”

“Captain Kane!” another soldier came running into the area, followed by a couple others behind him, “The hostage Earthmate had escaped and managed to take down a few of our men! Team one is currently tracking him down while team two is looking for the rune spheres within the castle before Norad’s reinforcement arrives.”

“Huh,” Kane turned to the soldier with a glare, “I will have those men relieved from duty. There isn’t a place in Sechs Empire for people who can’t take care of a single runt.”

“B-But…”

“Just go,” Kane turned back to face Frey, “I’ll deal with the rest of you after I clean up here.”

“Y-Yes sir!” the soldiers went back into the woods, leaving the two fighters on their own.

“Is that how you treat the people under you?” Frey asked sternly, “They are still your people, you know.”

“Know that it isn’t your place to lecture me when you had just abandoned your own team,” Kane replied as his powerful swing knocked Frey’s spear off her hands, “Give me that rune sphere and I’ll consider sparing your life.”

“Not when I can still fight and win!” Frey quickly took her spear, but the weapon was easily caught in Kane’s bare hands, “W-What?!”

“This is quite shameful to Norad,” Kane forcefully took the spear off her hands and threw it away. Just as Frey was about to run and take it back, the Sechs soldier blocked her way with his sword, “Norad’s royal guard is a complete joke. I can feel that your skills and abilities are far below mine or any other soldiers in my team.”

“I’m an Earthmate. I can do things most people can’t,” Frey looked at him with a deadly glare, but Kane remained unfazed.

“Not from what I’m informed off,” Kane took a few steps closer and kicked her in the face, sending her falling backwards, “A moderately experienced fighter when against monsters, but a complete novice when against humans. Your Earthmate abilities are little to none. Frey is your name.”

“You… what do you want with me…?” Frey slowly went to her knees, wiping the slight trace of dirt from her face.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Kane pointed his sword at Frey’s face, “I only want the rune sphere you have on you.”

“You… will never have it…” Frey slowly got back to her feet, “Not… while I’m alive!!!”

Frey charged in with her bare hands, but her punches and kicks could be easily dodged. Kane caught her fist as she was about to punch him in the chest and threw her to the side. Frey landed and rolled back to her feet, charging in once more with her fists. Kane dodged her punch to the side before kicking her hard on the stomach, sending her flying a few meters away.

“Give it up or you’ll waste your life,” Frey slowly turned her head around with her body still lying on her stomach, “You know yourself that you can’t win.”

Frey looked at the sharp metal pointed at her, completely aware that even with her training, she couldn’t beat him. She could always outsmart strong monsters and win, but the same strategy couldn’t be used against another human being. That along with her lack of experience in actual sparring matches against another person had become her disadvantage.

‘Maybe this is it…’ Frey had given up, until she remembered the powerful object she had been carrying, ‘Wait… I think… I can use it…’

“Now,” Kane kicked Frey once more, turning her around so that she was lying on her back, “Where’s the rune sphere?”

Frey closed her eyes and let out a confident smile as she put a hand on her pocket, “No longer within your grasp.”

“What?!” Kane watched in disbelief as Frey rose to her feet with her wounds slowly healing.

‘I can win this!’ Frey opened her eyes confidently, ‘I only need more power… A lot more power!’

The ground slightly shook as Frey raised her hand, pointing her palm at the soldier, “The power of the runes… b-but… the informant couldn’t be wrong…”

“I am an Earthmate! The Earthmate who can beat you easily!” Frey spoke up as she approached the terrified soldier with the flowing energy clearly visible around her, “I… will… beat… YOU!!!”

The rune energy flowing within Frey’s body gave her enough strength to create small craters as she walk, but her steps came to a complete stop as she fell to her knees. Frey clutched her chest in pain as the glowing energy around her switched colors from blue to black. Kane watched in horror as the energy around Frey kept on changing colors, before Frey’s whole body suddenly turned transparent.

“What’s… going… on…” Frey whispered in pain as she noticed that she was fading, before everything around her went dark.

“Uh…” Frey stirred in her sleep and opened her eyes, seeing herself to be awake in an unknown place. She sat up on the bed, looking around in the empty room, “Where is this…?”

The door in the room creaked open, “Ah, I see that you’re awake now,” Frey turned to the young woman at the door, “Just a moment, I will return with His Majesty.”

Frey stared at the door in confusion as the woman left, “His Majesty…?”

The door opened once more to reveal the young woman from before, “I am sorry to keep you waiting,” the young woman bowed slightly before she stepped aside to reveal a man with light yellow hair, “I shall be on my way.”

The door closed behind the man as he approached her on the bed, “How are you feeling, young lady?”

“I’m… fine, I guess…” Frey’s head was still a bit dizzy as she looked at the man, trying to recall the identity of the person in front of him, “And you are…?”

The man chuckled, “I suppose getting forcefully sent to the forest might have some side effects to your memory. My name is Antor, the current king of Norad.”

“King…?” Frey paused for a moment, before she realized who she had been conversing with, “O-Oh! My apologies, Your Majesty!”

“No, it is fine,” Antor responded with a smile before it was replaced by a serious look, “It seems like you have had a rough time when the Sechs soldiers suddenly attacked the castle. It was quite fortunate when a distant family of mine is also an Earthmate who was willing to help resurrecting you.”

“Resurrecting?” Frey got off the bed as she looked at the king in shock, “Have I…”

Antor gave her a hesitant nod, “You happened to fuse yourself with a rune sphere, but your body rejected the foreign energy flowing in your body. With a body overflowed with rune energy, the cycle of runes forced you to be pulled into the Forest of Beginnings.”

“I… see…” Frey frowned as she slowly recalled the events with the attack up until her encounter with Kane, “Is this… my second chance at life?”

Antor shook his head, “Unfortunately, it is not. As long as you are not out of the rune energy from that rune sphere shard, you can still live your life exactly as you were able to.”

Frey reached for her pocket where she had put the rune sphere before and found a piece of the sphere there instead, “Is this rune sphere?”

“Yes, but only the remainder of it,” Antor replied, getting Frey’s attention, “The sphere exploded when you entered the forest and that particular shard was the only one we managed to recover.”

“I see…” Frey put the shard back into her pocket before a familiar person came into her mind, “Lest… Lest! Is he okay?! He is my brother!”

Antor went silent for a moment as he slightly turned his face away from her, “He… along with the rest of the rune spheres… went missing a day after you went to the forest…”

“No way…” a single tear escaped from her eyes, “That can’t be true, right…?”

“That was the unfortunate truth,” Antor’s voice turned into a whisper as he put his hands on Frey’s shoulders, “The only eye witness had already been killed, so I cannot tell you whether or not he is still alive.”

“No, he must be alive,” Frey wiped the tears from her eyes, “He has to live, or I’ll never forgive myself for leaving him behind. I already promised…”

“There is one thing I would like to clear,” Antor spoke up in a serious tone, “The Sechs is still looking for the rune spheres, so they would most likely look for him as well. If you want to find your brother, I may be able to give you a helping hand.”

“Please do,” it was Frey’s turn to put her hands on the king’s shoulders, “I’ll do anything to make it up to my brother! To make up for all the things I did wrong in the past!”

Antor could tell that those words weren’t lies and nodded, “Very well. I will put you in charge of information gathering. That position will be quite dangerous, but with the powers you obtained after fusing with a rune sphere, I am certain that you can do it.”

“Yes,” Frey released Antor from her grasp, “Your Majesty, please let me know what I need to do.”

“I will assign you to the reformed research team, or now known as the intelligence division. Your task will require you to travel between Norad and Sechs quite often, so I have to know whether or not you accept this condition,” Antor saw Frey getting down to her knee in respect, “Is that your final answer?”

“Yes,” Frey nodded while staying down on her knee.

“Good,” Antor turned to face the door, “I will keep the information about you and your brother between the two of us. This should prevent any unnecessary problem in the kingdom during your mission.”

“Yes. Thank you, Your Majesty.”