#okay i see your morgana/lancelot and morgana/gwaine and lancelot/gwaine but let me raise you one

[xviruserrorx]

"Is it the smell of power in the room? I think this will never shift from me to you. My spot is taken, try different view." - Distressor by Gothic Tropic

For @polyamships polyshipday #31 "De-stress" (And a teeny tiny fic to go with it if it so Interests you)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Aftermath: Arise

Read on Ao3 Part 1 Part 2

Warnings: child abuse

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2099

As soon as he sees him, Merlin's heart jumps into his throat.

***

As soon as he sees him, Arthur's heart jumps into his throat.

As soon as he sees him, Merlin's heart jumps into his throat.

Arthur's curled up in Morgana's arms, his head weakly pillowed against her shoulder, hands horribly shaky and tense in the fabric of her gown. He peers over her shoulder the way children do when they fear the monsters under their bed and oh, oh, Arthur should never look like that. Like he's scared of a phantom that swings open doors too hard.

Ignoring the knights' protests, he hustles forward and throws his arms around him, hugging him as fiercely as he dares with all the bruises he knows are beneath that white shirt. Morgana simply moves out of the way as he buries his nose in Arthur's hair and breathes in the scent of him. Warm, alive, safe.

"Merlin," comes the horrible voice, "Merlin, I'm so sorry, I—"

"Don't." His voice comes out horrible too. "Don't apologize. You did nothing wrong. You did absolutely nothing wrong, you hear me?"

Arthur remains quiet for a moment. Merlin's heart pounds before there's the quietest nod against his neck and he can breathe again.

"Uther's not going to hurt you anymore," he promises in a low voice, "I swear it. No more. None of this, not ever again. I'll kill him before he does."

Threatening the King is treason, Merlin, Arthur would say any other time, even if his eyes belied the truth. But not now. Not when he's shaking and bruised with tears still drying on his cheeks. Threatening the King is treason.

A King that beats and abuses his own son is no King of Merlin's.

He leans back, just enough where he can take Arthur's face in his hand and brush away the tears. Once he starts, he can't stop, running his thumb over and over his cheek, just to feel that he's okay, he's here, Arthur's okay, he's here, he's okay. He leans down and presses his forehead against his, breath shuddering between them.

Arthur's hands come up to take Merlin's broken one, pulling it tenderly into his lap and holding it there like it's something precious.

"He won't hurt you either."

You're mine, they say to each other, your soul is stitched to mine and whatever hurts you hurts me.

"We can't let him do this anymore," Morgana says softly after a few moments, prompting them both to look at her, "you know we have to stop him."

"You can't." No, Arthur, don't sound so hopeless. "He's the King. He's got absolute power. We can't do anything against him without him calling for our heads."

"You're the Crown Prince of Camelot, Arthur, you can—"

"I can't," Arthur insists, "no one would believe me."

"They would."

They look over to see Gwaine take a step closer.

"Do you think it goes unnoticed when Uther orders someone dragged away in the middle of the night? You think the guards don't know exactly what they're doing when Uther tells them to go on midnight patrols for thieves in the poorest parts of the city? People know what sort of King Uther Pendragon is."

"The council would believe you too," Lancelot adds, "they always act like they're in agreement with Uther about everything, but you should hear them when the meetings end. They're more on your side than you think, sire."

"What about Gaius," Percival asks, "surely he'd come to your defense?"

Something dark flickers across Arthur's expression. Merlin catches it, frowning. Then he thinks about what's been happening for a moment and comes to an absolutely awful realization.

"He's known," he whispers, horrified, "Gaius has known this has been happening your whole life and he's done nothing, has he?"

At Arthur's silence, he whirls around with a glare.

"Get him. Now."

Elyan nods sharply and is out the door before Merlin can blink. He feels Arthur's head raise and looks back down, softening.

"He never said anything," Arthur says, eyes fixed on the door, "when I was younger and he—he knew where the bruises were from even though I never said anything. He never—"

"No more," Morgana promises, stepping up to lay a hand on his shoulder, "no more, Arthur."

Arthur looks up at her, squinting slightly. "Why're you doing this? Don't you hate me?"

Her expression twitches. "I've never hated you." At his scoff, her hand tightens a bit. "You're obnoxious, yes, but I've never—"

Something catches in her throat and she swallows. She watches her fingers fiddle idly with the seam of his shirt.

"You and Gwen were all I had sometimes," she says quietly after a while, "how could I hate you?"

Arthur makes a sound like he's been punched and reaches up to cover her hand. She offers him a small, sad smile before she shakes herself.

"They're not going to get away with this," she says firmly, "not anymore."

Not a moment later, the door swings open and Elyan escorts Gaius into the room, who looks surprised to see everyone looking at him with various degrees of hostility.

"Sire," he nods, "My Lady. Is something amiss?"

How dare you, Merlin thinks, how can you stand here and ask if something's wrong? You've been around this for his entire life and you've never spoken up once? You're supposed to heal and protect and care for people, how can you stand there as a physician and know that you've let someone be hurt their whole life?

In the end, though, it's Arthur who speaks first.

"Why did you never say anything?"

Gaius frowns. "Sire?"

"Before," Arthur asks, voice growing stronger, "why did you never say anything? You knew what he was doing. You always knew."

Merlin glares when Gaius looks to him for help. You knew. You did. Now answer him.

As Gaius looks around the room, he seems to realize that no one here is going to help him and at long last, bows his head in shame.

"Forgive me," he rasps, "forgive an old man for the mistakes he has made."

"Why," Morgana bites out, "why should he forgive you?"

"I was afraid—"

"And how do you think he felt?" Morgana's words make him wither. "You left a child to be abused by his father with no one to turn to. Why should you be forgiven for that?"

Gaius is quiet for a long while. Then he slowly raises his head. There are tears in his eyes.

"I was a coward," he admits, even as it pains Merlin to hear his mentor so defeated there is vindication in the words, "and too afraid to speak up against Uther Pendragon. But I was wrong. I was wrong to ignore your suffering then, and I am wrong to ignore it now."

"I was alone," Arthur says, "I was alone with him. You let me be alone with him."

"I did." He bows. "And I will be sorry for that for the rest of my days."

"So help," Morgana says, "help us rid Camelot of Uther Pendragon for good."

Merlin's chest clenches as Gaius glances around one more time and Arthur tenses under his hands. For long seconds, no one moves.

Then Gaius stands up tall. "What would you have me do?"

***

As soon as he sees him, Arthur's heart jumps into his throat.

He knows this is the plan. He's been a part of it for a while now. He knows that eventually, this has to happen.

It started with staying in his chambers. He was already absent from dinner, it was easy to be absent from everything else. Only Merlin, Morgana, Gwen, and the knights were allowed in to see him. Gaius's orders. Merlin would go down to the kitchens to fetch his meals and then come right back.

Merlin's broken hand was hidden, but not too hidden. Enough for curious servants to see and gossip about, enough for the cook to frown and ask if he wanted help carrying the tray up to the Prince. Each time Merlin would dodge the questions and decline answers, but drop just enough hints to get people talking.

The knights wouldn't say either. They would turn away questions with it's rude to talk about the royal family like that, knowing full well the gossip would find out that the King and the Prince were there that day. They would warn the squires not to train without the training masters, lest they pick up things that would later have to be corrected. The squires that had been there that day would whisper that the Prince had been defending them when the King picked up his sword.

Leon and Gaius were tight-lipped at Council meetings. Arthur was always recovering, or attending to his other duties, or otherwise engaged. Leon would be formal and polite but quietly undermine the more aggressive proposals with reminders that the people deserved to be people first and subjects second.

Morgana was colder, more distant. Holding herself with the sort of quiet rage and simmering anger that made the nobles whisper. Whisper what the beloved ward was so upset over, why the King's son hadn't been seen in so long.

And when he finally did emerge, it was to do his duties in the town. To tend to the people and ensure their happiness. He lets himself look battle-worn, tired, overwhelmed and yet doing his duty for his people, not for himself. Gwaine is his favorite on these days, when he's bantering a little to keep their spirits up and not at all shy about getting brasher to ward off the unwanted comments about Arthur's lack of appearance. Leon and Morgana are his second favorites, each affording him little bits of affection, given more freely among his people than up in the castle. The people worry about what happened to their Prince, smiling when they see him, concern creasing their brows when they notice the bruises his tunic fails to hide completely.

The King protects the kingdom, he says, our loyalty is to him.

It was a sparring accident, he says, the King still has things to teach me.

He's my father, he says, and he is the King.

Rumor spreads and gossip deepens and Merlin whispers no more.

And after all of this, when the whispers have grown to murmurs, the festival arrives.

Arthur walks into the great hall where the people have gathered, his crown on his head and his best clothes draped across his shoulders, and there at the end, on his throne, is King Uther Pendragon.

You can show them you're afraid, Morgana had whispered, it's alright. They won't think less of you for it.

Merlin's behind him and he can do anything. So he takes a moment longer to shake off his fear and walks down, smiling and shaking hands with the few people who reach out for him. When he arrives at the base of the stairs Morgana is there, offering him her arm and they walk up the steps together.

He looks up and into the eyes of Uther and for a moment, he feels the weight of a sword lifted over his head.

But sometimes all they have are appearances and he looks back down, stepping up and to the side to take his place as Morgana takes hers.

He lets himself be afraid.

Lets his eyes glaze over, his expression fade, his body become a vessel while his mind hides away from the man in front of him. He focuses on Merlin's presence just over his shoulder, on Leon standing in wait, on the rest of the knights that have gathered in his line of vision so he can look at them without fear.

No more, they say silently, holding his gaze, no more.

When the day is over and he can rush back to his chambers, he spends too long sitting with his head in his hands, breathing heavily because he will always be afraid of his father and ashamed of himself for letting it get so bad. But he will have Merlin and Morgana there to reassure him and tell him that they're almost there.

He's almost gone.

Uther isn't happy. He snaps at servants and orders guards about like they're toys. He yells at the knights and threatens council members. When he can't summon Arthur he slams his door so loudly the echo reaches their chambers.

He stops being careful.

And in the middle of court one day, when Arthur disagrees with him over an unjust punishment, he slaps his son across the face so hard, it staggers him.

And that is the last thing Uther Pendragon does as King of anything.

[swanqueeneverafter]

The Once & Future Queen Pt.16

Camelot. Tournament Grounds. (Lancelot rides a practice joust. He catches the decorated ring and the crowd cheers. Guinevere sits in the royal box with Agravaine. Lancelot rides to the box and Guinevere steps down to take the ring off of his lance with a smile. He smiles back. The tournament continues in much the same fashion, Sir Bedivere catches his ring and Guinevere accepting it gracefully.) Guinevere: “Thank you very much.” (Bedivere rides off smiling. Guinevere sits back down happily. Trumpets announce another rider.) Lancelot: “Who on earth is that?” Sir Gwaine: “No idea.” (The rider runs the practice joust and catches the ring. The crowd cheers and Guinevere politely applauds the stranger. She steps down and takes the decorated ring with a furrowed brow. The knight pulls off his helmet to reveal Arthur Pendragon. Guinevere is visibly disturbed by this. Lancelot charges towards him but is outmaneuvered as Arthur sidesteps him and sweeps the leg, causing Lancelot to fall to the ground. The crowd are stunned but begin cheering when Arthur turns and waves to them.)

Storybrooke. The Dragon's Lair. (With Maria dozing in her carrier on the bar, Regina and Emma are spending the day together.) Emma: "Wasn't Ella supposed to start today?" Regina: "She was, but with Robin and Zelena travelling to Oz, there's no one left to show Ella how things are done around here." Emma: "Well, you could show her." Regina: "I could, but then Ella would have to leave early anyway for her date with Henry. So I told her to start tomorrow." Emma: "Good thinking." Regina: "Plus, I've already got my hands full training you." Emma: (Scoffs:) "It's serving drinks at a bar, how difficult can it be?" Regina: (Winks:) "You'll see." (Emma watches Regina closely while she sets up the bar before asking the question that's been playing on her mind.) Emma: "So, back in the Enchanted Forest..." Regina: (Smirks:) "Here we go." Emma: (Chuckles:) "What?" Regina: "You want to talk about the fact that you were... my first." Emma: "How could you not tell me you and Daniel never slept together?" Regina: "Well I don't know how things were like in Juvie..." Emma: "Hey!" Regina: (Continues:) "But the way I was raised, young women my age didn't sleep around. Especially before marriage." Emma: (Smiles:) "Don't get defensive. I was just surprised is all. I think it's sweet." Regina: "Thank you." Emma: "Not as sweet as the fact that I was your first, but sweet nonetheless." Regina: (Chuckles:) "Well not to burst your bubble, but that doesn't mean you were my only." Emma: "Yeah, I know. I get that there were others. But, you know what they say..." Regina: (Nods:) "You never forget your first." Emma: "Yep!" Regina: "Okay, well gloat all you want. At least now I can put the blame for all those times we've been caught in compromising positions squarely on your shoulders." Emma: "And how do you figure that?" Regina: "Clearly I've been corrupted by the sexual deviancy of the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. I never stood a chance." Emma: "Uh huh. You had plenty of deviancy yourself back then. I mean that thing you did with your pinkie finger-" Regina: "Hey, I said I was a virgin. I never said I didn't have plenty of practice." Camelot. Dining Hall. (The Round Table members sit at a rectangular one. Arthur at the head of the table, Guinevere on his right, Lancelot observing at the other end.) Arthur: “I fear I remember very little as to how I happen to be back among the living. My story will not be as illuminating as I would like.” Guinevere: “We’re just amazed to see you.” Lancelot: “Although to say pleased would be pushing it.” Arthur: (Smiles:) “I deserve that. After everything I put you through, I am humbled by your hospitality. (To Guinevere:) Despite it all, when I returned, I knew I had to see you. To make things right between us.”

Lancelot: “Things were fine between all of us, just as they were.” Agravaine: “Oh come now, Lancelot. Do you not see the miracle that sits among us? Camelot’s former King has returned from the other side to dine with us. Surely the time is right to put the past aside?” Arthur: (Sigh:) “Thank you. It is, indeed, good to see you once again. I would like to propose a toast. (He stands:) To the people I hold most dear. To Camelot.” (They all raise their glasses.) All: “To Camelot.” Lancelot: “To Camelot.” (Arthur smiles and drinks. Guinevere watches him, clearly still unsettled.) The Land of Oz. Past. (Walking arm in arm, Zelena helps Stanum onto the podium as they find what they’ve been searching for.) Stanum: (Zelena opens the box:) “The Crimson Heart. So, what now?” Zelena: “There's only one way to find out. Ready?”

Stanum: “Yes. (Zelena takes the heart out of the box and holds it in her outstretched hand. Suddenly, the heart begins to glow and appears to be drawing from Zelena’s powers. Quickly placing the heart back in the box, Zelena breathes heavily:) What's wrong?” Zelena: “That thing... it was draining my magic.” Stanum: “What? Why?” Zelena: “Because there's no magic in that heart. It's just a worthless piece of glass. For it to work, it needs someone else's magic. My magic. (Glowers at him:) You knew about this.” Stanum: (Shaking his head:) “Zelena, I swear I had no idea.” Zelena: “You're lying. Who put you up to this? Was it Dorothy? I never should have let that gingham-clad Goody-Two-shoes go back to her wretched little farm.” Stanum: “I don't know anyone named Dorothy, and I promise you, I-I would never trick you like that. (Groans in pain:) You want to know how to find what it is you're searching for? This is it.” Zelena: “What are you talking about?!” Stanum: “It's what I was trying to tell you before the lion attack. You don't need a time-travel spell so you won't be alone. You just need some friends.” Zelena: (Laughs:) “Let me guess, like you? Do you actually think I would give up my magic to save you?” Stanum: “So you could have a friend that would accept you when no one else did? Yes.” (He groans again as the curse consumes him.) Zelena: “No. Weren't you the one who told me magic made me special?” Stanum: “Magic isn't what made you special. Your willingness to use it for good is. (More and more of his body turns to tin:) If you leave me here to rust, you might walk away from here with your power, but you'll be alone a very long time.” Zelena: “That's a risk I'll just have to take. (The curse consumes Stanum completely, leaving him as a tin statue:) Sorry, Stanum. You're wrong. Magic is what made me special. (Voice breaking:) And I won't give it up.” Stanum: (Muffled voice:) “Zelena. (Zelena picks up the Crimson Heart and walks away:) Zelena.” Zelena: “Enjoy life as a statue. Maybe Dorothy will come back and save you.” Forest. Present. Night. (Agravaine rides through the woods and dismounts. He walks slowly, searching for someone. Morgana appears behind him.) Morgana: “I’m keen to hear your news.” Agravaine: “I’m sure you’d be very proud, my lady. Lancelot naturally had his reservations, but the knights were completely taken in.” Morgana: “And Guin? This must be the last thing she hoped for." Agravaine: “If she was flustered, she certainly didn’t show it. I fear she truly does love Lancelot. Any feelings she had for Arthur are in the past.” Morgana: “I had considered that eventuality. (Agravaine is confused. Morgana pulls out a bracelet. She begins to enchant it:) Beclyppe þinne idese þæt heo hine lyste! (Morgana’s eyes glow and the bracelet shines unnaturally for a moment:) I think it’s time to reawaken those feelings.” (Morgana smirks as Agravaine takes the bracelet.)

Storybrooke. Rollin' Bayou. (Will stands watching Tiana take the beignets out of the fryer and place them on the cooling tray.) Will: "I thought that was Alice's job?" Tiana: "Yeah, well, it turns out our girl was born to do sales. (Will looks over to see Alice hand over a huge tray of orders to a satisfied looking customer:) She had the brilliant idea of handing out samples, and the customers love her.” Will: “And why wouldn’t they? She’s a Scarlett.” Alice: (Joining them:) “They all know my name now.” Will: “As well they should.” Tiana: “So, what brings you out here, Will?” Will: “Does a man need a reason to visit his two favourite girls? (Alice and Tiana exchange looks:) All right, here it is. Ever since I got back from Wonderland and then Robin’s sacrifice and that business with Morgana, I’ve been trying to take things a little easier. So, after doing a little light reading in the self-help section, I sat back and thought about what’s really important in my life. Well, for me, the answer to that is simple. It’s you two.” TIana: “It took reading a book for you to figure that out?” Will: (While Alice giggles:) “No, but it did remind me of all the little things I should be doing to show my appreciation once in awhile. So that’s what I’m doing. I’m taking my two best girls out to dinner and you know what? I’m even gonna bloody pay for it. Now you can’t say fairer than that, can ya?” Alice: (Smiles:) “Sounds great.” Tiana: “Mm. Well I have one last batch of beignets to sell then we can close up for the night. Do you think the Scarlett siblings can sell them all while I close up?” Will: “Oh I think we’re up to the challenge, right Alice?” Alice: (Beams:) “Consider it done.” Flynn’s Barcade. (Henry and Ella are on their date and Henry is failing miserably... at the game of space invaders he is currently playing.) Ella: “I've got to be honest, watching you get crushed playing that game isn’t my idea of being wooed.” Henry: “Yeah, I'm sorry. Enough mashing buttons, let’s go eat some hot wings.” Ella: “Ugh, finally. I’m starving.” Henry: “Hey you were the one who didn’t want to go to a restaurant.”

Ella: (Taking a seat at the bar:) “I know, but I think this is exactly where I needed to be tonight.” Henry: “Yeah, me too. I mean, tonight's our last night of freedom, right? You've got a job waiting for you at the Lair and I've got my taxi service..." Ella: "Hm. I think we need some drinks." Henry: "Definitely." Some Drinks Later. Ella: (Slurring her words slightly:) “You know what we need right now is a way to test fate.” Henry: (Swaying a little:) “Okay.” Ella: (Stands:) “Wait here.” Henry: “You got it.” (Ella walks to the end of the bar, while Henry tries to stay upright on his stool.) Two Minutes Later. (Henry looks at an empty beer glass at the opposite end of the bar.) Henry: “That's an impossible shot. Nobody can make that.” Ella: “Well, that's the whole point. You and I both know that going back to our steady jobs is the sensible thing to do, but you sinking in this token... is truly a million to one. (Henry gives her a quizzical look:) Mm-hmm.” Henry: “All right, so, if it lands in the mug, then we go for it. One last big adventure, you and me.” Ella: (Holds up the token:) “Good luck, my prince.” Henry: (Takes the token:) “All right.” (Henry stands and readies himself.) Ella: “Okay.” (Chuckles nervously.) Henry: (Takes a deep breath:) “Phew. (Henry flips the coin and it sails across the bar. Unfortunately, at the very last second, the barman clears away the glass:) Did it... Did he just? Did you- Did you just see?” Ella: (Sighs:) “Settled that once and for all. (Kisses his cheek:) Come on, your Mom just texted, she wants us to pick up Maria on our way home.” Henry: “All right.” (Henry gazes longingly at the place the coin landed before turning and following Ella out of the barcade.)

The Dragon's Lair. (It's past closing time and Regina and Emma have successfully emptied the bar of patrons. All except one.) Emma: "Come on Leroy, closing time was ten minutes ago." (Leroy mutters something unintelligible.) Regina: "All right, Grumpy, out!" Leroy: "I'm going, I'm going. (He slides from his bar stool and staggers to the door before turning back:) Word on the street says there's someone out there who can stop Morgana." Emma: "Yeah, and you're looking at 'em." Leroy: (Gives a patronising grin:) "Seriously sister, if you two haven't dealt with Ms. Doom and Gloom by now, then something's up." Regina: "Nothing is up, Leroy, we just don't go around using our magic to blast people out of existence because you're feeling a little scared." Leroy: "Scared ain't the word for what I am, Madam Mayor. Morgana tore a hole in the earth and let the spirits of the dead roam among us. Other than a God, who else has powers like that?" Emma: "The void has already been sealed and the last time we saw Morgana, she was in no shape to bother anyone." Leroy: "For now. What about the next time she tries something? Are you two just gonna let her go again? You know you have an obligation to-" Regina: (Cutting in, her voice raised:) "I am obligated to tell you that if you don't leave in the next five seconds, you'll be seeing spirits again." Emma: (Folding her arms:) "Only this time as one of them." Leroy: "Fine. But the word's out, ladies. Merlin's the one fated to destroy Morgana, right? (Both women look uncomfortable:) Well maybe you should consider busting him out of his tree again before Morgana does something you can't come back from. (He reaches the door:) And by the way, if you do decide to free Merlin, why don't you do something about Dopey while you're at it." (Leroy leaves and Regina locks the door behind him with a flick of her wrist.) Emma: "Well, news sure travels fast." Regina: "Drizella. I bet she spoke to that new Reporter your mother hired at the paper." Emma: (Sighs:) "Great. Do you really think we'll have to release Merlin?" Regina: "If we do, it won't be tonight. Now come on, sooner we get started, the sooner we can get out of here." (Standing back to back, Regina and Emma use their magic to clear away the debris, stack chairs and sweep the floors.) Emma: "All done." Regina: "And in record time, too." Emma: "You know was going to ask you something earlier and then I forgot about it, but I've just remembered." Regina: "All right..." Emma: (Smiles:) "Well I was thinking of asking whether you've ever done it on a bar before but then I sorta did the math in my head." Regina: "Oh yeah?" Emma: "Well, despite the numerous people you claim to have slept with between your first lover - me - and your wife - also me, I figured there's no way you could have." Regina: "What makes you so sure?" Emma: "The only bars in the Enchanted Forest were to be found in taverns and there's no chance the Evil Queen would ever lower herself to such behaviour." Regina: "Hm. You're forgetting that I found you in a tavern." Emma: "Actually you found me outside one, but fair point. So...?" Regina: "So, what?" Emma: "Have you ever done it on a bar?!" Regina: "You think you're so clever." Emma: (Smiling:) "Answer the question." Regina: (Bites her lip:) "Oh shut up and take your pants off." Emma: "Way ahead of you." (Emma quickly unbuttons her jeans and hops up onto the bar while Regina uses her magic to close the blinds.) The Land of Oz. Past. (Zelena strides through the double doors of her palace carrying the Crimson Heart. Placing it on the table, she lifts the cloche on her dinner and returns to her seat. After a moment's quiet reflection, Zelena realises what a terrible mistake she's made.)

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

Morgana's Spankfest

DISCLAIMER: I have never watched Merlin and I’m only going off what Liv has told me, and this is whole thing is a piss take. It’s a joke. Please enjoy.

—–

It was a bright new day in the humble kingdom of Camelot. Everyone was cheery and going about their morning routines, while the castle was bustling and preparing for the celebration. 

The weather could not have been more perfect for such an event. A partly cloudy day, but enough sunshine to warm the kingdom streets, and the air was crisp and cool. 

The shadows began to shorten as the sun climbed in the early summer sky. People on the streets knew today was the day and they couldn’t be more excited.

The kingdom square was bustling as Leon made his way through the crowd, a megaphone in his right hand. Once he made his way to the center of the square, he raised it to his mouth.

“Come one, come all! It is finally time! Please align yourself accordingly! Peasants assemble by the kingdom gates, and nobles align up by the castle! The festivities will begin shortly!”

Instantaneously, the crowd began to organize itself, the poor and rich congregating across the span of the kingdom grounds. 

At the entrance to the proud castle stood King Arthur and his half-sister, Morgana.

“Are you ready?” He asked her with a smile.

“Of course. I’ve been looking forward to this all year,” She returned a grin, her attention turning to the bustling citizens, the line beginning to take shape. 

“I invited a few more friends, I hope you don’t mind,” He said. “One of them will help with the line.”

“Oh? And who might that be?”

“His name is Gibbs. He’s with the NCIS.”

“Excellent. Any extra help is appreciated. I assume he’ll meet me by the gates.”

“Yes, he will.”

“Okay, I must be going now, I’ll see you in a few hours!” She gave Arthur a pat on the back, and made her way to the other end of the line, on the opposite side of the kingdom.

As she passed through the streets, people cheered and applauded her, excited to finally get spanked. She smiled and waved, waved with her spanking hand. She was left handed. 

She finally arrived at the other side of the long line, a tall man with grey hair awaiting.

“Gibbs, I take it?” She asked the gentleman.

“Yes, the pleasure is mine.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

The time had come. Morgana rubbed her hands together, preparing for the upcoming several hours of butt slapping. Gibbs went ahead, making sure the line wasn’t broken, yelling at the adults who were whining about needing to use the bathroom. 

And so, she began.

She started with the dragons, their left cheeks. Then came the commoners. 

There was a satisfaction that came from the spanking, sometimes it was the only thing that kept Morgana from going absolutely apeshit. The way her palm pressed violently on a firm cheek was enough to melt all her worries away. She didn’t get horny though cause that would be fucked up.

Unfortunately, some people did. By the time she had entered the middle class part of the line, a young man had moaned at the spank of his left cheek. A hand lurched from behind Morgana, yanking the man out of line. She turned to find a man with long red hair adorning only a loincloth absorbing the man into his own body. He smiled at Morgana.

“I am Santana. One of Arthur’s friends.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a small curtsey, and continued up the line. 

There were only a few more moans after that, but fortunately, Santana was hungry and a few extra people topped off his appetite for the rest of the afternoon. 

The shadows began to lengthen again as the sun began its descent. Now, she was spanking her friends; Merlin, Lancelot, Percival…

She spanked Gwaine, and he let out a squeaky moan. She paused, turning to Santana.

“Don’t take him, he’s my friend. I just won’t spank him on the way back.”

Santana nodded as Morgana finished the line with Arthur. Leon pulled out the megaphone again.

“Let the banquet begin!”

The entire kingdom went up in cheers as people began to funnel into the castle courtyard, where hundreds of cakes shaped like a pair of butt cheeks were strewn on a large feasting table. 

Super Mario emerged from the castle kitchen, placing candles and lanterns to illuminate the shadowed courtyard. He accidentally set Gibbs’ coffee on fire, and he was never seen again.

Morgana and crew had their own cake, and they all talked and laughed the evening away. Once the summer stars began to speckle the sky, the line reformed. Morgana stood with Arthur once again.

“Another successful night. Everything was perfect.” Morgana sighed, staring out at the landscape of Camelot.

“It was excellent, indeed,” Arthur replied. 

And with that, she spanked his right cheek, returning down the line. 

After everyone (minus the moaners + Gwaine) got their right cheeks spanked, the kingdom began to retreat into their homes for a restful night of sleep. Not a single soul was sad.

Except Gwaine, he wanted both his cheeks slapped.

 —–

[generallynerdy]

Our Little Secret Part 7 (Merlin & Child!Reader)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Summary: (Y/N) and Mordred reunite. Spot and Mordred reunite.

Key: (Y/N) - your name Warnings: this entire chapter is fluff fuck you, mentions of injuries Word Count: 2,260

Note: okay now happy reunited times. Also some fun fluff bc i want more mordred content and if no one will give it then i will make it

(Y/N) could not believe her eyes when she entered the throne room, helped onwards by Percival. It was not the ceremonial one in which she had been knighted, but rather the throne room where Arthur held private audiences.

She spotted the regular crowd; the knights, Arthur, Gwen, Merlin and Gaius in the corner-- but there was a new person. Black locks covered the back of his head, seeing as he was turned away from her, but she knew by instinct alone that it was Mordred. She could have sworn he was a figment of her imagination at first.

Everyone turned to look at them as they entered, which made Percival feel small. (Y/N) ignored most of them, but the gentle giant couldn’t escape the glares.

When Mordred turned, his bright eyes were wide as was his stance, unsure of her presence before he processed the fact that she was there. He almost tilted his head out of confusion, looking her up and down.

“Mordred!” She exclaimed, pushing away from Percival to put her arms around the young man’s neck.

He hesitated at first, but smiled and hugged her back.

Meanwhile, everyone gave Percival dumbfounded looks. He shied away from their glares. “Sorry,” he muttered. “She threatened me.”

As they all considered the concept of such a giant being threatened by (Y/N), the young woman pulled away from Mordred just for a second, to look at him with a small smile. She put her hand on his cheek, which made him flush red, though he would never admit it.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered. “Are you alright?’

He nodded. “I’m fine-- but you’re not. You should be resting,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Yes, you should!” Piped up a voice beside them.

They both turned their heads to see the disappointed expression of Gaius, who crossed his arms and glared at (Y/N) specifically. Merlin followed behind him, sharing a similar look, though his was pointed more at Mordred, for whatever reason. (Y/N) could understand Gaius being upset at her, but Merlin’s face confused her.

“This is ridiculous. You couldn’t have waited until he came to see you?” Gaius huffed.

“No,” (Y/N) answered firmly. “I absolutely could not have.”

Merlin rolled his eyes violently and stepped up to her. “You’re going to kill him one of these days. C’mon.”

(Y/N) opened her mouth to protest, but Mordred got there first. “Er-- I’ll take her.” He sheepishly looked to Arthur. “If you allow it, my lord.”

Arthur glanced at the others and Merlin sent him an exasperated look, but he nodded. “Of course. I think we’re finished here.”

Everyone watched with great interest as Mordred held out his arm for (Y/N), which she took gladly. They left the throne room, chattering like children. It made a few smile to themselves, but others were simply befuddled. Merlin, Arthur, and Gwen had yet to share the story of Mordred in the castle, or at least mention that (Y/N) had been included in the boy’s rescue.

“Tell me everything,” (Y/N) gushed. “Where have you been?”

Mordred helped her up a staircase as he shook his head. “It’s nothing interesting. Travelling, mostly.” He gave a sweet smile. “Things have been exciting here from what I’ve heard.”

“You have no idea,” she laughed. “It’s been too exciting if you ask me.”

“So...first lady knight of Camelot?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “That’s quite the achievement.”

She avoided his gaze slightly, rather awkward yet proud of herself deep down. “It took ages. Greatest accomplishment of my life.”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “What about your magic?”

“Well, I know the basics,” (Y/N) said, sure that no one was around to hear them. “Merlin’s taught me well.”

“And is he still the only one that knows?” Mordred inquired as they entered the young warlock’s chambers, where (Y/N) would be staying as she healed. “Besides Gaius, I mean.”

She sighed. “Lancelot, one of the knights of the round table. He died a while back, though. Morgana-- Morgana knew. She saw me move a boulder for his memorial with my magic.”

“Did she know about Merlin?” Mordred’s eyes were wide as he asked.

“No,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. “She couldn’t get it out of me.”

“Speaking of Morgana,” Mordred said as he helped (Y/N) climb into bed. She hissed in slight pain, but was comfortably under the blankets in no time. “You should rest. You need to heal.”

(Y/N) shook her head again, this time more firmly. “How can I rest with you here?”

“I could leave--” Mordred teased.

“No, wait,” she whined. He sat back down in the chair beside her bed with a fond smirk, letting her continue. “I’ve just missed you, that’s all.”

He tilted his head. “We knew each other for barely a week, (Y/N).”

“It felt like years, didn’t it?” She stared off into space for a little as he nodded, agreeing with her. “You were the only other child in the castle, the only friend my age.”

Mordred leaned onto her bed with his elbows, eyes bright with reminiscence. “You were my only friend period. You saved my life. I don’t know how I can ever repay you for that.”

(Y/N) scoffed. “I didn’t do any of the work.”

“Not the heavy lifting, no,” he chuckled. “But you kept me company. You were the only one I would talk to. I think I needed that more than anything.”

“Well,” (Y/N) smiled shyly. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you just saved my life, too.”

Despite Mordred’s insistence that she should rest, he couldn’t force her to do so. He didn’t have it in him to stop her from talking, telling him about all he had missed after he left. They had known each other for merely days back when they were children, but reunited as adults, it felt like they had been friends for decades.

Eventually, as the sun began to set that night, he bid her a quick goodbye upon Gaius’s instruction.

“How do I know you won’t be gone in the morning?” (Y/N) questioned.

He smiled at the fact that she hadn’t heard his earlier conversation with Arthur. “I have a feeling I won’t be leaving any time soon.”

“Promise?” She asked him in a whisper.

He kissed her hand in a gentlemanly way, squeezing it reassuringly. “Promise.”

For the next few days, (Y/N) was still resting in Merlin’s room, since she had yet to be released by Gaius. He claimed that she needed extra rest because of her ‘expedition’ the first day back. During these few days, Mordred was there more than Merlin himself. He and (Y/N) would talk for hours and when she went down to sleep, he would disappear to continue getting settled in the city.

When (Y/N) found out that he was going to be a knight, she was ecstatic, as everyone assumed she would be. The day Arthur came to check on her, she could not help thanking him profusely. He thought her excitement was quite amusing.

For the ceremony itself, (Y/N) wore what most of the other knights did; ceremonial armour. It was a bit of a pain, but it was required of them. Arthur said she could be exempt due to her injury, but she refused to go in regular clothes.

As a knight, she liked to be prepared and dresses were not ideal for that, so she kept a collection of men’s clothing. To be honest, she had swiped most of them from her friends, though they didn’t care. Percival’s were too big for her and Leon’s slightly so, thus she mostly took Elyan and Gwaine’s, considering they were of the smallest stature. Her nicest set of men’s clothing was from Sir Leon, because he had the best taste.

Mordred’s ceremony was just like her own. Gwen sat on her throne while Arthur stood, putting his sword to each of the young man’s shoulders.

“Arise,” he said. “Sir Mordred, knight of Camelot.”

As soon as it concluded, Mordred departed to a back room to remove his ceremonial garb. (Y/N) did the same, donning regular clothes before taking off to find her friend. Percival was attached to her by the hip, trying to make up for earlier by keeping a close eye on her for Gaius.

“I'm so proud of you!” (Y/N) said as she hugged Mordred.

He couldn't wipe the grin off his face as she gushed to him all about the duties of a knight and all the training he would have to go through. They talked for a long time before Mordred suggested something else.

“I haven't seen Camelot in forever,” he said as he glanced out a window. “I barely remember it.”

(Y/N) gasped as if he had committed a heinous crime. “Oh, now I'll have to show you around!”

“Absolutely not,” Percival spoke up. “Gaius will murder me.”

“A walk won't kill me,” she protested. “Besides, I have Mordred to make sure I get home. And I need to find Spot before he starts to worry. I haven't seen him since we got back.”

With all the convincing she did, Percival had to give in. He warned her to be back by sundown and Mordred made that promise for both of them.

So, they wandered about Camelot, stopping by all the must see places. Mordred remembered some from his visit as a boy, but most of them were unknown to him. (Y/N) knew the place like the back of her hand.

When they made it down to the lower town, (Y/N) had them turn a corner to an old house that she knew well. Before moving to the castle, she had lived next door to this house. Whenever she was on a trip because of her knightly duties, the old woman who lived there took care of Spot. He loved that little old lady and her cat, who was ironically named Stripes.

Barely two seconds after (Y/N) knocked on the door, a scuffling of paws could be heard and violent barking sounded from the other side of the door.

Mordred grinned at the sound, turning to his companion. “Is that who I think it is?”

The door creaked open a bit and Spot came tumbling out. With a single sniff at Mordred, he leapt at the young man, burying him in affection.

“Oh, (Y/N), you’re here!” The old woman, widowed Mrs Miller, crooned.

(Y/N) nodded between laughter at Spot’s reaction to Mordred. “I’m so sorry I left him here so long, Mrs Miller. I--”

“You’re fine, sweetie. Sir Leon came by when you got back and he told me you were hurt. He wanted to take poor old Spot to see you, but Gaius wouldn’t let him.” She pinched (Y/N)’s cheek almost painfully. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“You’ve gotten old, Spot,” Mordred muttered.

Looking down at Spot, one could tell he was an old thing. White hairs were spread amongst the grey ones on his muzzle and the brown spot around his eye was faded. He had as much energy as he did when he was a puppy. (Y/N) expected him to never die, seeing as he was fed and taken care of so well by the royal kitchens. The cooks there adored him.

“I guess he remembers you,” (Y/N) laughed, looking at Spot lick Mordred’s cheek.

Mordred gently shoved the dog away, wiping at the point of impact. “Disgusting.” He couldn’t help smiling at Spot, whose tongue lolled out of his mouth.

“He never forgets a face, I tell you.” (Y/N) interrupted their little bonding moment. “Saw Gwaine for the second time ever and tackled him.”

“I would have loved to see that,” Mordred laughed before glancing up at the sky. “It’s getting late. We should get home or Percival will kill both of us.”

He stood and let (Y/N) take his arm before they strolled toward the palace again. Spot followed loyally at the latter’s side, yipping happily as he went. On the way there, they spoke of many things, most of which they didn’t care to remember when they made it back, except one.

“Arthur wants to throw a ball,” (Y/N) said casually.

Mordred looked over at her with wide eyes. “No. No, he doesn’t really. Does he?”

“He wants to celebrate our safe return and your knighting.” She laughed when his expression failed to change. “You look terrified, Mordred!”

“I’ve never been to a ball,” he whispered.

“No! You must have!” (Y/N) gasped.

He shrugged. “I’m a druid, remember?”

“Oh, this will be so much fun,” she gushed with a devious expression. “I’d suggest getting one of the knights help for outfits, but luckily they require you to wear your armour.”

“I’m glad for that,” Mordred laughed. “But...what do you do at a ball?’

(Y/N) tightened her grip around his arm in her excitement. “They’re wonderful! You dance, you talk, you eat, you drink-- anything your heart desires.”

“What if my heart desires sleep?”

She hit his arm lightly, though she could not resist laughing. “You’ll have plenty of fun once you get there. I promise.”

“I’m trusting you,” he warned. “Just don’t tell the others I’m so clueless. I don’t need more hazing.”

(Y/N) reached down, taking Mordred’s hand in hers. “It will be our little secret.”

Merlin Tags: @pearlll09

Part 8

Masterlist

[winglesscrows]

I’m Yours Ch. 3

AO3 I Patreon I FF.net

First I Previous I Next 

Merlin (BBC) I T I Merlin & Arthur I 61k

Merlin had secrets, and Arthur knew nothing of them, until, slowly, he did.

In which Arthur slowly unravels the mystery that is Merlin, and begins to realize just how much he doesn’t know.

Read on AO3 I Patreon I FF.net or under cut

It wouldn’t be fair to start interrogating Merlin in the state that he was in, but the scar was right there, and Arthur couldn’t think of a time where he would have gotten it. In battle, the biggest injuries Merlin had suffered where some nicks and small cuts on his arms, and occasionally a blow to the head, but not a cut as long and deep as one that would leave a scar like that.  

“You’re looking at me like you’ve never seen a wound before,” Merlin joked weakly. They would need to give him some time to rest before moving on.

“No,” Arthur said, not really able to bring his mind up to speed with the events happening, “I just… where did you get that?” He gestured vaguely to the scar.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. He would probably have laughed if it wasn’t for the pain, “Seriously, Arthur? You were right there.”

At first Arthur was confused. If he had been there, he wouldn’t be asking, but it occurred to him that that wasn’t what Merlin was talking about.

“Not the wound, Merlin, the scar,” he clarified, slightly frustrated.

Merlin looked slightly taken aback, and then looked down to examine himself, as if looking for what Arthur was referring to, and then looked like he was contemplating what to say.

“It doesn’t matter,” Merlin finally settled on. It was possible that the loss of blood wasn’t helping him think straight either, because if he thought Arthur would let this go, he was very wrong.

“Of course it matters. First you don’t tell me that you’ve been abused by the very people I call trusted knights, allowing yourself to get a burn that you will never properly heal from and now I find that you have a scar that looks like it could have killed you, but I have no idea when you got. How does that not matter? You said that you were mine, and I take care of my possessions.”

“Actually I do that,” Merlin said and rolled his eyes. Arthur would honestly have slapped him if he wasn’t bleeding and in pain.  

“Merlin-”

“Arthur,” Lancelot interrupted, seemingly done with taking care of Merlin’s wound, “I don’t think you two are up for this conversation right now. Perhaps you should let Merlin rest and then come back to it some other time. Maybe when we are not surrounded by dead bodies?”

Arthur wanted to protest. He wanted answers now, but Merlin did look like he needed rest and since he apparently wasn’t dying, there was no rush. No, what was important now was to find a place to stay for the night, so that Merlin could rest and the knights could regroup before continuing their journey.  

They decided to not set up camp right in the middle of their slaughter, and so they sent Elyan and Leon out to look for potential spots they could set up camp. They came back not an hour later, having found a small cave not even a ten minute ride from their current location and they moved. They were careful with Merlin who was half-asleep throughout the entire ride, and it took them almost an hour to get to the cave in order to accommodate him.  

Percival and Lancelot took care of the food, and soon the knights were sitting around their fire (provided by Arthur) and talking about none other than Merlin.

“You should teach him how to use a sword,” Elyan suggested, “Would come in handy since he always joins you on missions.”

“You think I haven’t tried?” Arthur shook his head, “You should have seen him the first time he held a sword. He could probably have done more damage with a stick. At least with a stick there was no way for him to cut himself by accident.”

“I don’t think it’s his fighting abilities that are the problem,” Gwaine remarked, “Whenever he sees that the princess is in danger, it’s like all logic escapes him.”

The knights nodded in agreement. Merlin could be quite smart in combat and had survived far more dangerous situations than what they had faced today, but he always got hurt when Arthur was in a position where he could possibly have gotten killed or suffered a lasting disability. Merlin was loyal and more ready to die for Arthur than the prince was comfortable with. Which reminded him of the scar.

“Does anyone know how Merlin got his scar?” Arthur decided to ask. It was possible that Lancelot or Gwaine knew something that Arthur didn’t. Or maybe even Leon, as he had known Merlin since he came to Camelot, and was often present during battles where Arthur had lost consciousness.  

“Oh, the one on his shoulder?” Percival asked, and Arthur looked at him with wild eyes.

“There is one on his shoulder?”

“What were you talking about?”

“The one on his abdomen,” Arthur explained, his voice a little louder than it should have been.

“I thought you were talking about the burn,” Elyan said quietly, and Arthur shook his head again.

“I know all that I need to know about his wrist.”

“No, I meant the one on his chest.”

“Okay, my brain is officially exploding,” Gwaine exclaimed, “How many scars does he have?”

Arthur’s brain also felt like it was exploding. This did not make any sense. Merlin should not have any scars, at least on his upper body. When peace had first been made between Camelot and Mercia, when Merlin had drunk poison for him all those years back, he had had no scars. Arthur knew that for a fact because he had forced Merlin to put on the hideous servant’s uniform right in his chambers to make sure that Merlin would wear it. And while Arthur had taken note of Merlin’s thin body and distinct lack of muscle, he knew that there hadn’t been a single scar on his body then. Which meant that every single one of them were from his time in Camelot.  

Arthur tried to think, he really did, but nothing came to mind. What on earth had happened to his servant and who had been responsible? A voice inside his head told him that he had been the responsible one. That if Merlin could hide a burned wrist, what was stopping from hiding other scars and marks of abuse or injury? If Merlin was so ready to die for him, what was stopping him from having already taken a blade, an arrow or a spear for Arthur, without his knowledge and never told him about it?

Arthur put his head in his hands and let out a groan of frustration. He knew Merlin. He knew he did. His personality was so straight forward, but knowing a person and knowing about a person, Arthur was starting to realize that those were two different things.  

“It kind of makes sense though, doesn’t it,” Gwaine mused and Arthur looked up at him, because, no, it did not make sense, but the knight continued, “Merlin always takes care of all the invisible threats.”

“What do you mean?” Percival asked, being the only who didn’t know Merlin before his knighting.

“When I first came to Camelot, Arthur was almost killed by two bandits in disguise. Merlin figured out very quickly that they were up to no good, but no one really believed him. Even though I ended up saving the princess, I’m sure Merlin must have done things like that before. He’s just that kind of guy,” Gwaine gave Arthur a look, almost like he knew more, but didn’t say. Arthur was about to demand that he continue, until he recalled when he had met Gwaine for the second time. Gwaine had sworn to never speak of it again, so Arthur would have to ask him when the other knights were resting. It was easy to volunteer himself and Gwaine for first watch.

“Spill,” Arthur demanded, as the two of them were standing watch just outside the cave, “What do you know?”

“Do you know why Merlin followed you into the perilous lands?”

“Because he doesn’t know how to leave me alone?” Arthur responded, recalling how many times Merlin had offered to go with him just in case something happened.

“Because he knew Morgana had given you an enchanted bracelet that was slowly killing you,” Gwaine explained and suddenly the whole quest made sense for Arthur. He had felt incredibly weak during the whole ordeal, and when Merlin had found him, he was no longer wearing Morgana’s bracelet and dizziness had faded immediately. In his surprised state at finding both Merlin and Gwaine there, he hadn't had time to think about it further, and had merely accepted the situation as it was, focusing on finishing the quest.

“But that suggests that Merlin knew about Morgana before everyone else. Why wouldn’t he tell anyone?”

“Maybe she threatened him?” Gwaine suggested, clearly not knowing much more than Arthur, “Maybe he knew that no one would believe him.”

“So instead he just tried to stop her himself,” Arthur concluded, putting the pieces together, “That probably explains a couple of things… and all of the scars. It’s probably Morgana then.”

“Probably,” Gwaine said, but that was the end of it. Arthur was surprised that Gwaine stopped talking completely, but he too would have been tired after everything that had happened. He was probably worried about Merlin too.  

But as Arthur was sitting in the dark, thinking about everything he had learned, he thought that he was beginning to understand why Merlin had never said a word. How many times had Arthur not told Merlin how much Morgana meant to him? And after she had fallen down the stairs. Arthur had cried for her, and what could Merlin do? Tell Arthur that he shouldn’t be sad, because she was evil and trying to kill them all? Arthur would never have believed it. As much as he trusted Merlin, he had known Morgana for longer. Grown up with her, loved her as a sister. And if Arthur didn’t listen to Merlin, then who would? No, it had been safer for Merlin to keep it a secret and act by himself.      And for that he had gotten hurt. Perhaps it was time for Arthur to not just have faith in Merlin, but to let him know that he had his full trust. After all, how could Merlin know that Arthur was a safe person to come to if he had never said it? Merlin always told him that Arthur could confide him when he needed to, but had Arthur ever done the same for him?

After a couple of hours, Lancelot and Percival took over the watch, and Arthur was surprised at how easy he fell asleep with so many things whirling around in his mind.

It was surprising, to say the least, that Merlin was the one who woke him up, and that it was Merlin who had made them breakfast. Arthur was about to ask him how he was, but Merlin was faster.

“I told you I wasn’t dying,” he smiled cheekily, as if having read Arthur’s thoughts. Sometimes he really thought that Merlin could do that.  

“Your gut was bleeding less than twenty-four hours ago,” Arthur pointed out sleepily (he really wasn’t a morning person, even when on missions).

“That was yesterday,” Merlin said brightly, “But today is a new day.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow, and lightly poked Merlin in the side. His servant flinched in pain and Arthur rolled his eyes: “Wounds like that don’t disappear overnight. Don’t pretend to be better than you are.”

Merlin shrugged, and Arthur sighed. He would have to keep an eye on him. If he didn’t, there was all the chances in the would that Merlin would simply ignore the wound and not realize the damage that he had done until it had reopened and he fainted because of blood loss.  

Arthur looked to the mouth of the cave. Elyan and Leon were still standing watch as the three other knights were resting. Merlin likely woke Arthur up to give him a chance to actually wake up, before the others came to. But that also meant that the two of them could have a private conversation. Arthur doubted that the other knights had told Merlin about their conversation last night, therefore Merlin only knew that Arthur knew about the huge scar on his abdomen. That would be what Arthur would ask about for now. Just to see how much Merlin was willing to talk.

“Where did you get that scar?” Arthur asked again like he had done yesterday. Merlin stopped dead in his tracks and looked at Arthur, clearly not wanting to have this conversation, but damnit, Arthur was the prince and he demanded to know. Merlin no longer had the excuse that he had blood coming out of him.

“It was a long time ago, don’t worry about it,” Merlin deflected once more, but Arthur was not letting this go.

“I said where, not when.”

“The Darkling Woods.”

“And who gave it to you?”

“I answered your question, Arthur, it’s really not important.”

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed trying to keep his voice down. He saw Elyan give him a look before he turned back to watching out for bandits and other threats, “Just this month you have let someone beat you, kick you and burn you and told no one. You used yourself as human shield to protect me and didn’t even demand as much as a ‘thank you’. And now you’re saying that a scar that looks like it came from a deadly wound isn’t important? Listen to yourself. You would never let me get away with it.”

“Of course not,” Merlin said, “You’re the prince, but I’m just a servant so it doesn’t matter. Besides, I’m alive, aren’t I?”

“You may not be so lucky next time,” Arthur said, hating how it was a given that Merlin would endanger himself to protect Arthur again. Hating how little Merlin thought of his own life or how much he thought of Arthur’s. And what had he even done to deserve such loyalty and devotion, when he clearly didn’t even have his trust?  

They didn’t continue their conversation after that and merely prepared for the last leg of their journey to Mercia. It went peacefully and silently by.

They spent three days in Mercia. Arthur spent most of his time with Bayard, while his knights took some time to rest. Merlin was treated by the royal physician – at Arthur's request – and the two of them saw little of each other, Merlin being mostly in the company of the knights whenever they got bored. However, on the last evening, Merlin – who had recovered remarkably well - drew Arthur a bath while they discussed their journey home. It felt awfully familiar as Merlin washed his back and tried to convince Arthur to change the route.  

“We should avoid bandit infested areas this time,” Merlin suggested light-heatedly, knowing that Arthur had been thinking the same thing.

“So you propose that we take the route you originally came up with,” Arthur replied, trying to put Merlin in a good mood. They had hardly talked since the morning in the cave, and it felt wrong to not have Merlin constantly chat about something, or trying to lighten Arthur’s mood in a weird roundabout way.

“No,” Merlin merely replied, “I think we should make a new one entirely.”

“And why is that?” Arthur asked, curious about Merlin’s thought process. He had been so against everything Agravaine had suggested that perhaps, now that his uncle wasn’t here, Merlin was more willing to speak.

“I have been thinking-”

“Hopefully not too hard.” Arthur received a splash of water and soap in his face for that.

“I have been thinking about what Agravaine said,” Merlin began, and that made Arthur slightly suspicious, “I don’t have the knowledge about the borders of Camelot that he does, so he probably had a good point when he said to avoid a lot of population.”

Arthur wanted to accuse Merlin of lying, because surely, this was a lie, but he let him finish. Even if - when - Merlin lied, he always had Arthur’s best interest at heart. This time around, that interest was probably keeping them alive.

“But I still think that we should avoid areas that are too secluded and easy for ambushes. If we extended our travels by two days, we could travel through open space and still be within a relative distance from any of the villages if we ever need assistance. We could even pass Lord Owen’s fort along the way.”

“I’ll think about it,” Arthur said and he could almost feel Merlin’s smile behind him. Arthur wasn’t smiling though. He was thinking. Thinking about what Merlin had said. The route that Merlin had originally came up with would be just as safe as the one he had just suggested, the only difference was how long they would be traveling. Logically, they should have stuck to Merlin’s first suggestion and take the risk of word getting around about the travels. No, Merlin’s real objective wasn’t to avoid what had happened on the way to Mercia. It was to take a route unknown to anyone in Camelot. A route unknown to Agravaine.  

Arthur shook the thought out of his head. It didn’t make sense. If that was what Merlin was thinking, then that would mean he suspected Agravaine of selling information to someone outside of Camelot. Instead of Agravaine and Merlin playing tug-of-war with Arthur’s trust, wouldn’t it be better for Merlin to speak up about his suspicions? Arthur knew that Agravaine always spoke his mind, even if he knew Arthur didn’t like what he had to say. He had warned him several times to not take the advice of a servant (regardless of that servant being Merlin or Gwen), but Arthur always told him that it could never hurt to listen. If Agravaine and Merlin really had two different agendas, it wouldn’t make sense for Agravaine to be the only one to speak up. Unless Merlin was the traitor.

But no, that made even less sense. Merlin had nearly died for Arthur so many times. Perhaps it was just a matter of Merlin not like Agravaine. Or maybe it wasn’t Agravaine who was the problem. Maybe it was someone his uncle regularly talked to and Merlin was afraid that he would let something slip. His uncle was rather talkative, especially after a few drinks. Or, Arthur reminded himself, perhaps he was merely thinking too much into it. Morgana’s betrayal wasn’t behind them just yet - and maybe it never would be - and perhaps Arthur was seeing traitors were none were.  

The only thing Arthur knew for certain was that Merlin wasn’t telling the full truth about so many things that Arthur could only wonder how many secrets he kept.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Feathers for the Pillows

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

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 3776

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

Merlin didn’t realize it was happening at first.

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

 A bird falls out of the sky.

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

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

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

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

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

 Merlin dreams of flying.

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

 She sends him to Camelot.

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

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

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

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

 “How’m I supposed to do that?”

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

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

 Arthur doesn’t notice.

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

 Well, that won’t be a problem.

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

 His secret is safe.

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

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

 “Um…”

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

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

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

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

 His hands are always cold.

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

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

 Merlin gulps. “I can—I can see?”

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

 “Merlin!”

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

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

 “Coming.”

 No, Arthur doesn’t notice.

 The knights…the knights.

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

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

 “What?”

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

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

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

 Leon notices everything, Lancelot notices Merlin.

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

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

 Merlin lets himself slump forward into Lancelot gratefully.

 Lancelot helps quietly, Gwaine helps loudly.

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

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

 “Even if you don’t…know why?”

 Gwaine shrugs. “I trust you.”

 Merlin smiles.

 Gwaine distracts, Elyan suggests.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “Yeah.”

 Elyan puts things together, Percival pulls things apart.

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

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

 “On three, ready?”

 “Ready.”

 “One…two…three.”

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

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

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

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

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

 “No, I’ll be fine.”

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

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

 Percival leaves with a nod.

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

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

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

 Merlin is too shocked to make a sound.

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

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

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

 “They’re magic.”

 “Yes.”

 “And you’re still not afraid?”

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

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

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

 “…they’re mine.”

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

 She giggles as Merlin flushes red.

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

 “Do they hurt much?”

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

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

 “Repay—Morgana…”

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

 “And for me.”

 “But I—“

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

 And what can Merlin do but say yes?

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

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

 Arthur…Arthur doesn’t do much.

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

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

 That makes the wings grow a little heavier.

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

 His eyes begin to cloud over as he lies still.

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

 …Arthur?

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

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

 “Are you feeling alright?”

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

 Merlin settles for shaking his head.

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

 “Arthur?”

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

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

 “Did Gaius…Gaius tell you?”

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

“Not—I meant about my—my—“

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

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

 Merlin’s too exhausted to do anything but obey.

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

 “…Morgana?”

 “No, not Morgana.”

 “Gwen?”

 “Not Gwen.”

 “…knights?”

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

 But Arthur…but he…

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

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

  What?

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

 “S-so…so you…”

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

 “…oh.”

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

 Merlin nods.

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

 Merlin shakes his head, growing more and more miserable.

 “Alright…would you like to?”

 “…’ve got work.”

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

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

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

 “You…you will?”

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

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

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

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

 “Hang on.”

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

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

 “I—I’m—“

 “Are they broken?”

 Merlin freezes.

 He looks slowly at Arthur. Arthur raises an eyebrow.

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

 “I—I—“

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

 “N-no, but—“

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

 “N-no, just…just stiff.”

 “Alright. Can I…can I help?”

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

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

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

 “Will you let me help?”

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

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

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

 “Oh, Merlin…”

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

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

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

  “Ah!”

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

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

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

 “So—so you—ah!”

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

 Merlin has never been touched like this.

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

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

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

 “I…”

 Was he?

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

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

 He chuckles when he feels Merlin gasp under his hands.

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

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

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

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

 “You’re alright, now…”

 A soft knock on the door.

 “Who is it?”

 “Morgana.”

 “And Gwen!”

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

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

 “Feather collecting?”

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

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

 “You feeling a little better?”

 “A little.”

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

 Merlin smiles back.

 “He hasn’t told you either?”

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

 “Well, now we both have to ask him.”

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

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

 …well, he’s not pale anymore.

 “Stop flirting with my Merlin.”

 “Oh he’s your Merlin, now, is he?”

 “He’s always been my Merlin.”

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

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

 “What?”

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

 “What happened to no flirting?”

 “Oh, that’s just for you.”

 “Rude.”

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

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

 Merlin sighs.

 “Tomorrow?”

 “Tomorrow.”

 Merlin dreams of flying.