#one scene you have merlin wiping the floors with arthur and the next you have people respecting arthur

[witchmd13]

the contrast between people curtsying/bowing to arthur around the castle every couple of scenes and merlin casually bumping into him in hallways exchanging banter like they're best buddies and entering his chambers without a single knock is so funny

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Soulmate AU part 2; Things drastically change for the better:

Arthur and Merlin’s relationship develops, Uther becomes increasingly annoyed at his failed attempts to control them, Leon continues to have heart palpitations over trying to protect them, and Morgana thinks the whole thing is hilarious.

Part 1   Part 3 Part 4

So that conversation... happens.

To say it was awkward would be a MASSIVE understatement.

Arthur and Morgana spend the whole time answering Uther’s questions, so much so that Merlin barely speaks (he wasn’t great at keeping secrets, so he wasn’t too mad at them for answering for him) and Uther spends the whole time trying and failing to assert his dominance over his two dumbass kids (but they aren’t having it).

Eventually Merlin did speak up, quietly saying:

“I, um... I’m really sorry to interrupt Sire, My Lord... uh... Your Majesty Sir-”

Morgana smirks slightly and covers her mouth with her hand, Arthur rolls his eyes and squeezes Merlin’s hand, and Uther looks upon the whole scene with barely concealed bewilderment:

“-uh... my mum is waiting for me, and I’m usually not gone for this long so... could I... I mean would you mind if I... went?”

Uther looked even more taken aback at that. As much as this whole conversation had been based on Merlin, he hadn’t actually processed the fact that he was a whole person who would have family and places to be and a life outside of being The Prince’s soulmate.

He nods his head slightly and purses his lips:

“Right. Of course. Arthur said that you lived outside of Camelot?-”

He doesn’t wait for an answer before continuing:

“-Well I’m afraid that that is unacceptable. You are the soulmate of the Prince of this kingdom, inform your family that you are to move here as soon as possible, preferably before the month is out.-”

At Merlin’s wide eyes and Arthur and Morgana’s scornful faces, he waved his hand:

“-Don’t worry, housing and anything else that you will require will be provided by the Crown.”

Merlin still looks a bit dazed and surprised at his demand, so Arthur replies instead:

“Father, Merlin and his mother have a life in their village, you can not just demand that they pack up and leave everything behind to live here.”

Uther looks annoyed at this, but patiently (or as patiently as Uther is able) retorts with:

“Well he was going have to move eventually. The two of you are only a few years from being of age, and you can not possibly live in separate kingdoms when that happens, especially as you are Crown Prince. I’m allowing this... bond... to continue, but we are still royalty, and rules must be followed.”

Morgana goes to argue this time, but Merlin tugs her sleeve slightly and says quietly:

“It’s alright ‘Gana, he is right, I was going to have to move here eventually anyway. This way you finally get to meet my mum, and we’ll get to see each other more often. Mum won’t like it, but I know she’s missed Gaius, so it won’t be too bad, and I’ve always sort of wanted to explore the city.”

Morgana and Arthur stare at him for a few moments whilst he looks between them. Arthur sighs before replying:

“Fine, but only if you’re sure. And take your time, don’t pressure your mum into leaving right away, OK?”

Merlin nods, and everyone at the table stands, stepping back.

Uther mutters that they are dismissed, but watches as they say goodbye to each other. He furrows his eyebrows in interest as Morgana hugs Merlin, mentally noting that he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her smile that widely before.

When Arthur embraces Merlin, much tighter, and for much longer, a hand cradling the back of the peasant’s-... of Merlin’s head, and a soft, but powerful smile on his face, Uther forgets for a moment the distastefulness of the situation, and revels in the feeling of pride and happiness; his son had found his life partner. 

The King sweeps any thoughts of his late-wife from his mind, and drops the small smile gracing his face, but not before Morgana spies it and tilts her head at him, giving him a teasing smirk.

The boys whisper something that Uther can’t hear, and Merlin steps back, giving him a quick bow and an awkward wave, before disappearing into thin air. A familiar pop echoes around the hall, and a few gold sparks fall silently to the floor.

Arthur and Morgana bow to him very briefly, before turning and leaving the room without another word, arm in arm.

Uther stands alone in the room for a moment, sighing before muttering to himself:

“This is going to be a bloody nightmare. Public announcement. Before that I have to tell the council. And I have to figure out how I can legally make these people nobles, to justify everything-”

He looks to the ceiling, sighing once again as he says:

“-Gods give me strength.” Before turning and sweeping out the room.

~

The moment Arthur and Morgana leave the room, they turn to each other and burst into slightly hysterical laughter, sputtering about “the look on his face” and “oh my gods, *sire my lord your majesty sir* ” between breaths. 

The whole situation was unexpected, but to be perfectly honest, they didn’t regret it; they knew that the longer they waited before telling Uther, the bigger the problem would be.

Morgana straightens up after a moment, wiping tears from her eyes, before whipping her head around to Arthur in sudden panic:

“Oh my Gods, Arthur. Leon.”

Arthur’s eyes widen, and he curses suddenly before taking Morgana’s hand and running towards his chambers. They almost ran into multiple people, Nobles who tutted, and castle staff who jumped out of the way, not even having time to bow before the two teenagers were out of sight again.

They loudly burst into Arthur’s chambers, out of breath, to see Leon pacing a groove into the floor:

They stand with their hands on their knees, panting, but before they can say anything, Leon rushes to speak:

“Where on earth have you been?? A guard said you were in a meeting with the King all afternoon, what happened? Is Merlin ok?? They wouldn’t let me in, so I came back here to wait but-”

Arthur held up a hand to stop him rambling, and gave him a comforting smile. The Prince straightened up, and took one last deep breath before saying:

“Sorry, for worrying you Leon. But you are not going to believe what just happened...”

Morgana starts laughing again, and with that, the two of them shut the door behind them and explain in great detail what had happened, how Merlin had just appeared and Uther had freaked, and Gaius and Geoffrey had to be called, and how funny the look on his face was when they’d explained. 

Arthur had wanted to skip it out, but Morgana gleefully insisted on recounting just how much she and Arthur had ordered Uther around, and how he’d just taken it.

By the end of their explanation, Leon had collapsed in a chair, looking very pale, and a lot like he’d aged twenty years.

He holds his head in his hands, fingers messing up his curls, and stares at the floor as Arthur and Morgana glance to each other, trying not to laugh at the poor man.

After what seems to be hours, Leon straightens up, and looks to the two of them with a stricken expression:

“I can’t believe that... well I suppose he had to find out eventually but... dear Lord I can’t decide if I’m grateful I wasn’t there or not... oh my Gods I’m going to be demoted, disowned, banished.”

Arthur laughs at that and Morgana rolls her eyes at the man’s panic:

“Nothing’s going to happen to you Sir Leon, don’t panic. We didn’t mention you, as far as my father is concerned, the only ones who knew were us.”

Leon finally smiles briefly at that, muttering a quiet thank you, before standing up suddenly, looking panicked once again:

“Wait... you said he’d be moving here?? What about his... gift?? He can’t live in Camelot it’s dangerous. You may have protected him from the King for now but... if he finds out nothing will stop him from... nothing will stop him.”

The two of them sighed at that. They had been mentally considering it, but they were just taking it one victory at a time. Arthur replied moments later:

“We’ll just have to be careful. He has to be careful in Ealdor anyway, he’s already a bastard, he had to hide magic from the other villagers because it probably would’ve been fatal for him to give them a second reason to hate him. We can set ground rules when he actually moves here and... we just have to be careful. It’ll be a new life for him and his mother, we can be careful.” 

He says the last bit with a decisive nod, and Morgana and Leon relax slightly. Arthur was right, they’d been fine so far, they could keep it up.

He would never say it out loud, but if his father found out... if he tried to hurt Merlin, Arthur knows without a doubt in his mind that he would give up his inheritance, take Merlin’s hand, and run. Without hesitation.

He would love nothing more than to turn his kingdom into a place where Merlin could be free and happy one day, but until then, he would do anything to keep him safe, even if it meant leaving everything behind.

~

The next few weeks rush by.

Uther had tried to limit the number of visits between Merlin and Arthur, but neither of them were having it, and if anything, they were seeing each other more with the upcoming move.

Hunith did in fact freak out at Uther’s demand of her and Merlin moving to Camelot. For several reasons.

First off, she had a life here. It was difficult, but simple, honest work. The winters were hard, but the summers made up for it. The villagers may have started of being a little cruel to her and Merlin, but they warmed to them when the dark haired boy was nothing but sweet and kind to everyone.

Second off, her son was magical. Both naturally and unnaturally magical. Essetir was dangerous, yes, but Camelot? Camelot was so much worse.

She supposes it had to happen eventually. She didn’t like to think of it often, didn’t want to tempt fate, but her son was the Crown Prince’s soulmate. That meant that one day... he would be married to the King. He couldn’t exactly do that whilst living in Essetir, least of all because the Essetir Crown would throw a world ending fit.

In the end, she agreed to the move rather quickly, at least she would be close to her brother, and she could finally meet Leon and Morgana.

As much as Merlin and Arthur urged her not to rush, she really had nothing to do but say goodbye before they made the journey to Camelot, and the three of them were leaving the village behind them within the month, just like Uther wanted.

Though he definitely hadn’t wanted Arthur to pop away one morning, a full travel pack and a sword on his person, intending to make the journey with them. But in the end, Arthur ended the argument by rolling his eyes (much to Morgana’s amusement) and disappearing before The King could get another word in.

No public announcements had been made (they decided to wait until Arthur came of age), but the council had been informed. They were NOT happy. 

Uther would never admit it, but he did feel a swell of pride when Arthur slammed his hand on the table, and firmly told them that this was happening whether they liked it or not, and if they dared complain instead of help, they would find themselves without a chair at the table, and severely lacking in titles and land.

Uther was relieved when he found out that Hunith was Gaius’ younger sister. Gaius wasn’t a noble, but he was a life-long, close friend of the King, and a trusted advisor. Hopefully that would make it easier. 

The Court Physician wasn’t a title that came with land, or nobility, BUT it was the most respected position in the royal household, below actual nobles.

If Gaius could take Merlin on as his apprentice... then he would be an almost fully trained physician by the time he came of age, and that would be respected. Then at least he would have a role outside of being the Prince’s Soulmate.

It was all coming together in Uther’s mind. Of course it wasn’t perfect. The absolute ideal outcome would’ve been if Arthur’s soulmate had been foreign royalty (if only anyone knew about Merlin’s father...), but he could make do with this. He would have to, if he didn’t want to lose his son and his ward.

~

The day of Hunith, Arthur, and Merlin’s arrival finally comes.

Uther didn’t greet them in the courtyard (it would be unsightly for a King to greet two commoners, even if The Prince was with them) but Gaius, Morgana, and Leon did.

Everyone breaks into wide smiles when the castle gates are opened, Arthur and Merlin rushing forward to meet Morgana and Leon in a big hug, and Hunith rushing forward to meet her brother, whom she hadn’t seen in several years.

There is laughter and hugs all around before Merlin finally steps back and takes his mother’s hand, realising he should probably give actual introductions:

“Mum, this is The Lady Morgana, ward of the King-”

Morgana gives Hunith a wide smile and curtsy, before stepping forward and giving her a brief hug. Morgana was very touch averse with everyone but Merlin, Arthur, and Leon, but in her books, any woman who raised Merlin into the young man he had become, was a woman who deserved her trust. And a hug:

“-and this is Sir Leon, Knight of the King.”

Leon took Hunith’s hand, placing a brief kiss on her knuckles before stepping back respectfully. Hunith quickly followed him, and to his great surprise, wrapped the taller man in a tight hug. He wraps his arms around her after a few moments in shock, when she whispers in his ear:

“Thank you for keeping my boys safe.”

He steps back, a wide smile on his face and his hands on her shoulders. He replies quietly so that only she would hear him:

“It has been my genuine pleasure, and I plan to continue to do so for the remainder of my service.”

Hunith gives him an even wider smile, and pats his hand, before the two of them step back. The others watch on in adoration, before Leon clears his throat and addresses the group:

“I have been instructed to show the two of you to your new residence, before you are to meet with the King.”

Arthur steps back before saying regretfully:

“Unfortunately, Gaius and I should go and meet with my father immediately. Leon, you lead the way, we shall remain with him until you return and we can get this over with.”

He says the last bit with a grimace, and Morgana gives him a sympathetic smile as Merlin squeezes his hand. 

The group separates, Arthur and Gaius heading up the castle steps, and Leon leading the rest of them back out the gates.

Hunith and Merlin had been gifted a small house in the upper city, close to the castle, but not within it’s walls. Arthur had argued endlessly against that, saying they deserved chambers inside the castle, but Hunith was the one who refused.

She wasn’t nobility, and she enjoyed her simple life. She had already given up her farming and livestock, she refused to be cooped up in a giant stone castle where she would have nothing to do, and didn’t understand how anything worked.

Arthur finally saw the sense in that, he can understand that it would be difficult for Merlin and Hunith to live in the castle. He hated to admit it, but they would certainly be looked down on, and Arthur was almost of age, he didn’t have the time to spend all day entertaining Merlin, even if he wanted nothing more than to spend all day every day with him.

The house was small, but still three times the size of their place back in Ealdor. They had separate bedrooms, a large kitchen/dining area, a small storage room, and an extra room for relaxing (”City folk call them living rooms apparently.”). There was a small, fenced off grass area out the front, which Hunith was particularly excited about; she wouldn’t have to give up growing things after all.

The home came fully furnished, and Hunith was speechless at the large, comfortable beds, the soft chairs, and the abundance of cooking equipment. The living room also had a large hearth, and two ceiling-high bookshelves, though they were empty.

Once Hunith had had a good look around (the others had already seen it, and Arthur had been checking with Merlin at every step to see if he approved), Morgana excitedly grabs her hand and drags her back to the slightly larger of the two bedrooms.

Merlin follows confusedly, but Leon follows with a small smile on his face, he had seen what Morgana was planning, despite her best attempts to keep it secret.

Morgana finally stands Hunith in front of the wardrobe and gestures for her to open it. The older woman opens the doors with a little hesitation, before stepping back and gasping, her hands over her mouth.

Morgana grins proudly before speaking to a speechless Hunith:

“My gift to you. I organised a few things for Merlin as well. Of course they’ll all have to be adjusted because I could only pass on to the tailor Arthur and Merlin’s descriptions of you. I thought that could be something nice you and me could do at some point in the next few days, after you’ve settled.”

Merlin steps around Leon to try and see what’s got everyone so wound up, and takes in a quiet gasp at what he sees. The wardrobe is filled with new, tailor made dresses, a few thick cloaks, and two pairs of good quality shoes. Two of the dresses were incredibly nice, royal-gala kind of nice, and the others were a mix of practical, casual, smart. 

He smiles widely, tears in his eyes at what Morgana had done for his mum. He’s always felt a little guilty at being the soulmate of royalty, but not being able to provide her with more than she had, but that changed, starting now.

Hunith finally rips her gaze from the new clothes, staring at Morgana:

“I can’t possibly...-”

Morgana’s tilted head and raised eyebrow forces Hunith to change tracks. The boys have told her how stubborn Morgana was, she has a feeling she wouldn’t be able to return the gifts:

“-I don’t know how to thank you, My Lady.”

Morgana rolls her eyes fondly, and brings her into a hug before stepping back:

“Oh none of that “My Lady” shit, and you don’t have to thank me, you and Merlin are part of the family now.”

Merlin gives her a grateful smile over his mum’s shoulder, which she returns, before Leon speaks up:

“I’m sure you can find time to get them all properly fitted in the coming days Morgana, for now we should get back up to the castle. I imagine The King and The Prince are waiting for us.”

Morgana nods, and Hunith subtly wipes her eyes, before allowing The King’s ward to intertwine their arms. Merlin smiles at the sight (he knew they would get along) before turning and following Leon out the house, and back up towards the castle.

Merlin was only a little nervous, he’d met the King multiple times now, and whilst the man was always painfully polite, it was clear that it was only because the whole situation bewildered him a little. But he’d never met his mother yet, and this next meeting would make the rest of his life go very smoothly, or very difficultly.

Leon pauses a moment outside the door to the throne room, glancing back at Merlin, who takes a deep breath before standing straight and nodding.

Leon smiles encouragingly at him, before pushing the doors open and walking into the room.

Arthur, Uther, and Gaius were stood in front of the thrones quietly discussing something, but look up when they hear the doors open.

Arthur smiles widely and walks forward, giving Merlin a brief hug (which Morgana lovingly rolls her eyes at, they’ve only been apart for half an hour) and Uther straightens his back, before walking forwards regally, a practiced blank look on his face. Gaius gives his sister a reassuring smile, but stays back.

Leon and Merlin bow (Leon deeply, before stepping aside, and Merlin briefly and shallowly) and Hunith curtsied as best she could with Morgana protectively gripping her arm.

Arthur and Merlin stand next to the girls, hand in hand (Uther’s mind bounces between wanting to smile fondly, and wanting to grimace at the PDA), and Uther stops just in front of Hunith:

“Welcome to Camelot, your swift arrival was pleasing.”

Hunith nods, a polite, but strained smile on her face:

“Thank you, My Lord. Anything to make the boys lives easier.”

Uther clenches his jaw, and Morgana has to hide a smirk at the implication that she’d only moved to help out the boys, and not because Uther had ordered it.

“Of course. I hope your new home was to your liking?”

Hunith nodding in reply, the smile on her face a little brighter this time:

“Yes, My Lord, it’s wonderful, I can not thank you enough for providing it. I look forward to exploring your city.”

Uther nods slightly before saying:

“Yes, yes, it’s rather lovely this time of year. The Crown will provide a small allowance for a time, until you can get yourself on your feet. I’ve already discussed it with Gaius, and arrangements have been made for Merlin to become the physician’s apprentice, at Gaius’ earliest convenience.”

“Thank you, I’m sure it won’t be long before I can find work, in such a bustling city.”

Uther nods tersely, before turning back towards Gaius. He waves his hand dismissively over his shoulder as he says:

“I have other matters to attend to for the rest of the afternoon. Sir Leon, Arthur and Morgana, you have the rest of the day off to show our new... residents, around. You’re all dismissed.-”

Leon is the only one who bothers bowing to Uther’s back, and Morgana raises an eyebrow at him, before rolling her eyes and turning to leave, dragging Hunith with her, closely followed by the boys.

Just before Leon can exit the room, Uther turns around hurriedly:

“-Before I forget, Sir Leon, I would like a word.”

Leon turns around after wiping the panic from his face. He shuts the door after the others, who look at him worriedly, before turning around to face The King:

“My Lord?”

Uther settles an assessing gaze on the knight, and Leon has to stop himself from gulping in response. Uther sighs, and speaks after a moment:

“After paying a little more attention to the relationships between yourself, the boys, and Morgana, I have realised something. You obviously knew of this... relationship, long before I did. Do no deny it.-”

Leon does gulp at that, but before he can defend himself, Uther asks:

“Can I trust that it would have been brought to my attention had anything problematic started?”

Leon widens his eyes in shock, before gathering his thoughts and replying, injecting as much confidence in his voice as possible:

“Of course, My Lord. I kept a close eye on them myself, and made sure that the Prince’s safety was my highest priority at all times. Had anything worrying happened, I would have come to you immediately. I am loyal to the throne, My Lord.”

(A big fat lie considering the whole “Merlin is a sorcerer” thing, but the King certainly doesn’t need to know that.)

Uther nods thoughtfully, before meeting Leon’s gaze again:

“Good. I am glad that Arthur has someone looking out for him. I trust you will continue this?”

Leon nods:

“Of course, My Lord.”

Uther nods once again:

“Excellent. Make sure none of... this, interferes with his studies. You are dismissed.”

Leon bows deeply, before leaving the room. He shuts the door behind him, leaning on it and taking a deep breath, before looking up to meet the worried gazes of the others, who had waited for him. He smiles shakily:

“Nothing bad, I’ll tell you later. Come on, let’s show these two around the upper-town.”

Arthur fixes him with a scrutinizing gaze, but Leon meets it (Arthur has yet to win a staring contest against Leon, in fact, Morgana was the only one who ever came close), and after a moment, Morgana shakes her head, and begins to walk down the corridor, the boys trailing after her and Hunith.

They spend the rest of the afternoon showing Merlin and Hunith around the upper-town. The tour leads them around the market, the town square (where the well is) and other important fixtures of the town, such as the tailor, blacksmith’s, and some of Morgana’s favourite shops (Uther hated it, but Morgana and Arthur regularly sneak out of the castle to spend time in the city).

By the time the sun sets, the group is relaxed and getting on well. Merlin knew Morgana and Leon would love his mum, but it was still nerve-wracking, and he was overjoyed by how well it was going.

The kitchen of Hunith and Merlin’s new home had yet to be stocked, so they stopped off at some street vendors before heading back to the house. Hunith tried to argue when Arthur insisted on paying, but she was shut down pretty quickly when Arthur reminded her that he was The Prince, he could more than afford it, and anyway, “I like contributing to the local businesses, I wouldn’t be a Prince if I didn’t have my people around me, I like to give back where I can.”

Leon and Morgana smiled proudly at that, but the smiles on Hunith and Merlin’s face were more fond. 

(Morgana quietly thinks about how differently he would’ve been without Merlin to ground him. With a father like Uther, Arthur easily could’ve turned into an absolute prat.)

They stay together long into the evening, talking and laughing, before Leon finally says it’s time to go. Morgana, Hunith, and Merlin may have tomorrow free, but Leon and Arthur had training early, followed by a day full of meetings.

Morgana smirked at Arthur’s grumbling, but dutifully stood up. The three of them give Hunith and Merlin tight hugs, before leaving them alone, heading back to the castle.

Hunith and Merlin sit in comfortable silence, wide smiles on their faces, before Merlin breaks the silence:

“So what do you think? I know Uther is a bit of a prat, but he’ll want to see as little of us as possible, so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem. Do you... like it here?”

Hunith smiles at him fondly, and runs her hands through his hair when he rests his head on her lap:

“You’ve really made a life for yourself here, haven’t you Merlin? I’m proud of you. Lady Morgana and Sir Leon are exactly how I expected them to be. The house is far more than I expected, but I’m grateful, and I’m sure it won’t take me long to find a job. I’ll always miss our rural village, but nothing is stopping us from visiting every once in a while, to get away from the city, and we have a nice little garden here.-”

Merlin closes his eyes, soothed by his mother’s fingers in his hair, and hums thoughtfully before Hunith continues:

“-You know, I had always considered sending you here to apprentice under Gaius when you were older anyway. Funny, how things turn out. Though perhaps I should’ve realised that nothing was going to go to plan when the little blond boy that appeared in my kitchen all those years ago turned out to be foreign royalty.” 

Merlin huffs out a laugh from when he laid, and responded sleepily:

“Yeah. You know I don’t even think of him as royalty, most of the time. He’s just... Arthur.”

Hunith smiles gently down at him, and takes a few minutes to respond:

“I know what you mean. I’m glad you found your person... or more accurately, I’m glad your person found you.-”

She chuckles, before adding the next bit on quietly:

“-Your father would be proud of you.”

Merlin opens his eyes, and looks up at her blearily:

“You think?”

Hunith’s smile widens, and the both of them politely ignore the tears gathering in her eyes:

“I know.”

~

Time passes quickly. The next day, Merlin, Hunith, and Morgana spend the whole day shopping and stocking up on food and other necessities (the small allowance Uther had provided for them actually turned out to be quite a lot, especially compared to the amount of money Hunith was used to having around).

At some point over the next week, like Morgana had suggested, her and Hunith spent a day in the tailor’s, having all of her new clothes adjusted properly. 

Hunith was also ecstatic to get a job off the back of that. She may not be at quite the professional level yet, but she was the one most of the locals would go to, to fix and patch and re-sew old clothes back in Ealdor.

Merlin started his apprenticeship with Gaius, which meant the days being near, but not with Arthur, were less boring, and slightly more bearable.

He picked up healing quickly (after seeing all the various injuries Arthur and Leon had sustained over the years during training, he was eager to learn how to help them), and he soon became known around town as Gaius’ Boy.

His cheerful demeanour and wide smile endeared him to all of his patients, and he made a point to try and be polite to everyone he came across. Suddenly living in a bustling city, and having what was basically a full time job, was a little overwhelming, but being here meant being with Arthur, so he was determined to make the most of it.

The boys spent the evenings together whenever they could (and still slept in the same bed most nights, out of habit. Merlin’s nightmares had made a brief reappearance after his first meeting with Uther, but they stopped again fairly soon.), and Arthur would often pop out of the castle to share meals with Merlin and Hunith, Morgana and Leon joining them when they had the time.

This did however, involve a few instances of Merlin or Arthur appearing at inopportune times. 

An emergency patient coming in meant Arthur appearing in the physician’s chambers, instead of Merlin’s home, like he had expected. 

Luckily the patient was unconscious at the time. 

(Uther had informed them that the council members and guards who worked in the castle had been informed of the situation (so that Hunith and Merlin wouldn’t be bothered), but the public wasn’t to know at all, at least until Arthur came of age.)

A council meeting overrunning meant Merlin appearing just behind the Prince’s seat, and turning wide-eyed and red-faced before squeaking out a quick apology and disappearing again.

The meeting was side-tracked for a good five minutes as Arthur tried to cover a smirk, Morgana (who insisted she be involved in important meetings when Arthur was) openly laughed, and Uther held his head in his hands, rubbing his tired eyes and muttering something about “stupid kids” and “stupid soul-bonds”.

They tried to be more careful after that incident, and they got better at exploring the bond. With some focus and practice, the boys got fairly good at sensing where the other was, and sometimes, if they were with other people (though that particular sense wasn’t as reliable).

About a month after they moved to Camelot, Merlin was introduced to a lovely girl called Guinevere. Her mother had served Leon’s family, and once she was old enough to have a job herself, Leon swung her a position in the castle as Morgana’s maidservant.

Arthur was oblivious at first (until an amused Merlin explained it to him later on), but Merlin and Leon definitely noticed the... bond, between the two girls, though all four would deny it to anyone who asked, in order to preserve their privacy.

Guinevere, or Gwen, as her friends call her, quickly joined the group. Morgana was grateful for another female presence, and Leon was most certainly grateful for the addition of someone who cared about safety and being careful.

He loved his kids, (”Oh my Gods... I’m a father... how do I... Gaius I know nothing about teenagers, what do I do?? I’m not ready to be a father!”), and Hunith was a good influence, but they couldn’t be around all of the time, and the boys had a bad habit of making trouble, especially with Morgana egging them on. 

He stressed a little less when he knew that Gwen was with them.

~

Shortly after Gwen’s appearance, the group (unfortunately without Leon, he had a patrol:( ) went exploring in the woods beyond the city. Uther was stuck in meetings all day, but Arthur and Morgana had a free day, and after much begging, Gaius let Merlin off as well. 

Morgana having a free day, meant that Gwen had a free day as well (not that Morgana ever made her do many chores anyway, only enough to keep up the pretence that they were Lady and Servant and not... something else).

They put together a picnic, took some horses from the stables, and headed off at first light. It was a warm, summers day, and they planned to spend the day in the sun, Arthur didn’t have to worry about duties, Merlin didn’t have to worry about memorising herb lists and symptoms, Morgana didn’t have to worry about being a Lady, and Gwen didn’t have to mind her place as a servant.

It was planned to be the perfect day, and it almost was. 

After a couple hours journey, they found a beautiful lake, and they spent the morning splashing around in the water, playing and laughing and messing around. 

They spent the middle of the day drying in the sun and snacking on all the sweet meats and fruit that Arthur had snuck from the kitchens. 

They spent the afternoon playing stupid games, and relaxing in the shade, holding hands with no worries, and even sneaking the occasional kiss, revelling in the freedom of being alone.

They were sad to have to leave, but it became an agreement that at least once a month, whilst the weather held out, they would come to their spot by the lake, and relax with each other. No responsibilities, no obligations, no “My Lord”s or “My Lady”s, just four friends, hopelessly happy and in love.

It was on the way home that things went a little wrong.

Usually this stretch of the woods was completely safe and bandit free, but the group was not so lucky as to have an eventless journey home.

When they were about halfway home, Merlin halted his horse suddenly and sat up straight, letting go of Arthur’s hand and tilting his head, eyes closed, listening to the woods around him with a frown on his face.

Arthur looks back and frowns, before calling to the girls, a few metres ahead of them, to wait for a minute.

He looks to Merlin, still with a frown on his face:

“Merls? What is it?”

Merlin waves his hand in Arthur’s direction, gesturing at him to be quiet. He is silent for another few moments, before he opens his eyes wide, and speaks in a low, but rushed voice:

“Gwen, ride ahead with ‘Gana, everyone get your swords out, we’re being watched.”

Arthur tenses at that, and he and Merlin pull their swords out (Leon had insisted that Merlin learn, he wasn’t nearly as good as the others yet, but he could hold his own. Leon was also the one who insisted they be armed when he learnt of their plan for the day.), quickly followed by Gwen and Morgana. 

Instead of riding ahead, Morgana speaks up quickly:

“Gwen can fight just as well as me, I’ve been training her, we should stay together.”

Arthur looks worried, but Gwen just rolled her eyes before adding quietly:

“I’m also the daughter of a blacksmith you know, I’ve been handling swords since before I could walk.”

Arthur sighs and nods, before looking back to Merlin, and quietly, so that only Merlin can hear him:

“How many, and where from?”

Merlin tilts his head away from Gwen, so she can’t see the gold of his eyes, before flexing his hand slightly, and responding:

“Six or seven, I think from the South.”

Arthur nods once more, before turning his horse to be facing South, and he peers into the trees. It wasn’t quite dark out, but it was dimming, and the forest was so thick, the underbrush so overgrown, that it was difficult to see much beyond the edge of the path.

The girls urge their horses back the way they came, to be close to the boys, and stay alert, swords raised, feet braced and ready for action.

Merlin clenches his hands and gasps slightly, before murmuring, loud enough for everyone to hear him this time:

“Twenty seconds.”

Gwen goes to question how he knew that, but a quick look from Morgana, and a shaken head meaning “Later” stops her, and she instead focuses her gaze on where the others were looking into the trees.

Like Merlin had said, twenty seconds later, the treeline breaks, and seven men burst through yelling, and brandishing swords, the shock of which sends the horses scarpering, and the four of them have to jump off and let them go.

Battle broke out immediately, the teenagers aiming to incapacitate or injure, but the bandits not being so kind with their attacks.

The battle is intense, Merlin using little bits of subtle magic here and there to trip or confuse various attackers, Arthur and Morgana slowly but surely taking down men, one by one, and Gwen easily enough holding her own.

But, four, mostly inexperienced (Arthur had only had to actually fight for his life once or twice at this point, and before, he was surrounded by fully trained knights whose top priority was keeping him safe, even to their own detriment) teenagers, aged 15, 16, and 17, were no match for seven seasoned attackers.

In the end, it’s the four of them left (each with bruises and cuts, but nothing serious) vs three remaining attackers, but the battle quickly stops when Merlin turns around (a gut feeling) to see one of the men silently raise a sword, readying to bring it down on to Gwen’s turned back.

He instinctively raises his empty hand towards them, and yells:

“NO!”

He sends the man flying back, head hitting the tree behind him with a thwack.

Gwen stares at him (or more accurately, the golden glow of his eyes) in astonishment, and Morgana and Arthur use the momentary distraction to deal with the last two attackers, giving them swift knocks to the head.

Morgana rushes forward to Gwen and tugs at her shoulder, trying to get her attention to see if she’s ok, but she ignores her just staring at Merlin.

Merlin drops his hand, and his face morphs from anger to shock to fear, the gold in his eyes fading back to blue as Arthur reaches his side and takes his hand. 

Gwen finally stutters out a:

“What... you’re... but Uther?-” before wiping the shock off her face, and setting it in grim determination, clenching her jaw.

Merlin’s eyes widen at her expression, and he takes a fearful step back, Arthur steps in front of him and Morgana tries to grab Gwen’s arm as she begins to stalk quickly forwards, but it slips from her grip.

Arthur holds his hands out, and begins to speak, seemingly trying to talk her out of hurting Merlin, but she ignores him, and pushes him to the side with surprising strength.

Merlin gasps and tries to take another step back, tears in his eyes, but she grabs his shoulders and, before anyone can say anything more, pulls him into a crushing hug.

Merlin takes a few moments to respond, clearly not expecting such an affectionate reaction to being discovered as an evil sorcerer, but hugs back at Gwen’s watery “Thank you.” whispered in his ear.

Arthur lets out a breath, and he and Morgana smile, not really sure why they were so surprised at Gwen’s acceptance. I guess that’s what happens when you grow up in Camelot, expecting hatred and violence and fear in response to magic is ingrained in you.

Gwen finally pulls back, and takes Merlin’s hands, the both of them have tears on their faces, and Gwen sniffs before quietly saying:

“I’m sorry that you have to live in fear, and I’m sorry I wasn’t clear enough in my adoration for you that you felt you had to be scared of my reaction. I promise to keep you safe, to the best of my ability.-”

She fondly punches him in the arm, before continuing with a smile:

“Next time, you can just do that right at the beginning, and save us all the trouble, yeah?”

Merlin nods slowly, before pulling Gwen into another tight hug. He buries his face in her neck, and she runs her hands through his hair and they both quietly weep.

Arthur and Morgana both feel the strong urge to step in, and comfort their own soulmates, but they resist, and instead give them a moment of privacy as they round up the horses, and search the bandits.

After a few minutes, Gwen and Merlin pull back, and walk towards the other two, holding each other’s hand comfortingly. 

Whilst searching their unconscious bodies, Arthur hadn’t found anything identifying, but had found a length of rope in one of their discarded bags, hidden in the underbrush.

He cuts the rope into separate pieces and ties the bandits up, to individual trees, before looking back to the group:

“This won’t hold them long at all, but we don’t have the means to transport them back to the city. I can get my father to send a search party to look for them, but by the time we get back to the City, and the Knights get out here, they’ll probably be long gone.”

Morgana raises an eyebrow and replies:

“I thought you Knights were excellent trackers. They won’t wake up for a while, and they’ll be dazed, so it’ll take them a while to get out of the rope, if your knots are any good-”

Arthur goes to retort, but Gwen quickly interrupts him:

“That’s not the point. What if one of them remembers what Merlin did? And accuses him? Uther probably wouldn’t take their word against all of ours, but it would attract unwanted attention, wouldn’t it? And, no offense Merlin, but he’s already not exactly fond of you.”

Arthur nods at that, and Morgana hums thoughtfully, whilst Merlin just stares at her in shock. He speaks up after a moment:

“We could loosen the knots, and wake them up a little before leaving? That way they’ll have plenty of time to escape before the knights get here? But we have to report it. The types of men to attack four teenagers, none in armour, and two of whom are women, need to be warned about.”

Arthur and Gwen look troubled at that, and Arthur speaks up first:

“Morgana is right though, the Knights are brilliant at tracking, what if they find them anyway? I won’t risk one of them remembering what you did.”

Merlin looks annoyed, always the one to sacrifice himself, and Morgana furrows her brows before looking up, and speaking slowly:

“You could... over exaggerate how violent they were? Request a kill on sight order? That way, none of them make it back to testify, but they’re also no longer a problem for travellers.”

Arthur tilts his head in surprise, and Gwen widens her eyes at the suggestion.

Arthur looks like he’s genuinely considering it, when Merlin gasps:

“Oh!! Wait! The other day, I read about a spell. It’s like a memory charm, I can make them forget the last ten minutes or so, if it works, and we time it right, they’ll remember attacking us, but not how the fight ended!”

He has a grin on his face, but Morgana and Gwen look doubtful, whilst Arthur looks thoughtful, before speaking:

“Have you tried it before? Do you know it would work?”

Merlin turns a little pink, before looking to the floor, and saying:

“Well... do you remember agreeing to let me try it on you last week?”

Morgana grins as she realises the implication of the question, and Gwen gasps as Arthur’s eyes grow wide, and he shakes his head slowly:

“...No.”

Merlin finally meets his eyes, with a nervous smile on his face as he says:

“Then yeah, I’ve tried it before and it worked fine.”

Morgana and Gwen start laughing as Merlin bites his lip and Arthur blinks a few times, before speaking again:

“...Ok, you cast the charm or whatever, I’ll make sure the ropes are done tightly, then we’ll wait for one of them to wake up, to check that it worked, then we’ll leave, and send a patrol back to arrest them.”

With the girls still laughing in the background, Merlin goes to the three attackers who had witnessed him perform magic and cast the spell, whilst Arthur double checked all of the bindings.

The group only has to splash cold water on the face of one of the attackers for him to cough himself awake. He looks around, clearly bewildered, and yells:

“What?? How the fuck... what did... how hard do you hit, kid? Jeez, how the fuck did I-”

He’s cut off by Arthur hitting him in the head again with the hilt of his sword, before he steps back and says:

“Ok. It worked. I think it’d be best if we got home as quickly as possible, we’re already going to be late.”

With that, the group takes one last cursory glance (and fill with pride at the idea that they’d managed to fight off a group of thieving murderous bandits all on their own) at the bound bandits, before mounting their horses, and urging them into a gallop towards Camelot.

The report to Uther was definitely intense, The King was furious that a group of violent criminals were attacking citizens, especially women (though Arthur made sure to point out that Morgana fought just as well as him, and Gwen held her own just fine) so close to the city.

He immediately sent out a large patrol to scour the woods, focussed especially around the path they used, and to not come back until the seasons changed, or the criminals were found.

Arthur was right, the ropes hadn’t held them for long, but he was also right in saying that Camelot Knights were excellent trackers, and they were hunted down within a week, and brought back to Camelot for sentencing.

Arthur and Morgana tried to speak against it, at Merlin and Gwen’s request, but Uther ultimately sentenced the offenders to execution, for crimes against the Crown and Citizens of Camelot, and didn’t question why they couldn’t even remember half the fight.

In fact, that actually had Uther praising the group for fighting well, and he begrudgingly admitted that Morgana’s sword lessons (which she had been ruthlessly demanding since she was a child) and Guinevere’s subsequent training, had paid off well.

~

THE END OF PART 2

Wow so I finished this way quicker than I was expecting, I just really love this concept, thanks anon, for requesting :)

Anyway, hope you enjoy gang

[rogue-durin-16]

THINGS NEVER GO AS PLANNED (Part VI/VII)

"the downfall"

Summary: After Fred's death, George and Y/n lean on each other to carry on. This wasn't the most brilliant idea, though; George was pretty much in love with the girl, and Y/n— well, she had been dating Fred prior to the Battle of Hogwarts.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: angst mostly

Tags:

Suggested by: @crispykittywitch

Things never go as planned: @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @beautyschoo1dropout @s1ut4georgeweasley @sunshineandshadows @missmulti @accioweaslcy @andreaareynoso @georgeweasley16 @dianarte @skarlettmikaelson

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality

Warnings: language, allusions to sex

A/N: my apologies for keeping y'all waiting for this one darlings, but here comes the next part YAYY! Enjoy <3

Prologue: the aftermath

Part I: sleepless nights

Part II: candy floss

Part III: shock therapy

Part IV: wrong name

Part V: the perfect excuse

Part VII: apart

Epilogue: I still love you

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

He had left me in the room that morning, alone, with regret and guilt straining my chest, with embarrassment and panic heaving over me, my only company being a terrible headache and a sore body.

I was still waiting for him to come back. Of course, he still lived in the apartment, but the day after, he slept at Shell Cottage because Bill needed help with the chores, and the next night at the Burrow because Molly had asked to keep an eye on 'the kids' —the kids being Ginny, Harry, Ron and Hermione— while she and Arthur were off to visit Andromeda, and at Lee's because Angelina was away and they were going to have a boys' weekend; in summary, he managed to avoid stepping into the flat while I was in there for an entire week.

I would be lying if I said the idea of moving out hadn't crossed my mind, but I knew I was being dramatic— we were being dramatic; we were adults, even if we forgot about it more often than not, and adults talk things out, so I decided to confront him at the only place I would manage to corner him; the shop.

When I descended from the office on the second floor, I spotted the ginger turning the 'CLOSED' to face the glass door. "Oi!" His head snapped to me as I climbed downstairs and he instantly walked to the shelves on the opposite side. "Can I have a word?" I requested, following him, only for George to move on to another shelf.

"Right now I'm quite busy." He replied, seemingly absent-minded as he pretended to check the products in front of him.

"This is important." I insisted, moving to stand besides him.

Not fast enough, though, because he was off to yet another part of the shop as soon as I got close. "I'm sure it can wait."

"You know it can't," I assured intently, stalking after him, only for him to speed up his own pace, moving from product to product without stopping too long in front of him. "George I'm- Oi, stop! We need to talk about this!"

"Well maybe I don't wanna talk about this!" He exclaimed, taking big steps under one of the stairs in order to shamelessly dodge the hand with which I had reached out to stop him.

"George Weasley don't run away from me!"

"I'm not running away from you!"

"You're literally RUNNING AWAY!"

He stopped circling the counter and stood across from me, slamming his palms over the till. "ALRIGHT, LOVE!" for the first time, I didn't like the way the name dripped off his tongue. "Let's talk about how we accidentally FUCKED! That's what you want so badly, isn't it?!" Flush crept up his neck and ears, and I couldn't tell if it was from anger or from timidness. "Go on, darling, lead the bloody way!"

I felt my own cheeks going red, partly because of his straightforward statement but also because I genuinely had never heard George raise his voice like he had just done.

"Cat's got your tongue now?!" My stuttering seemed to fuel his anger more. "C'mon, Y/n, talk! You wanted to talk!"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, GEORGE!" He clenched his jaw as his freckles drowned in a sea of pinkish red. "Yeah I want to talk! 'Cause that's what grown-ups do! We don't know how to act around each other so we just don't spend time together anymore— Fuck, I've barely seen you! AND WE. LIVE. TOGETHER!" I emphasised each word with stomps. "We can either pretend it didn't happen or talk it out to make sure we're on the same page, you choose but for Merlin's sake, don't avoid me!"

"OKAY!" His eyes widened, surprised at his own tone, and then he repeated in a softer, self-conscious one, "Okay." He breathed deeply and then added. "We're on the same page, right?" His eyebrows raised as he looked into my eyes. "It was... A mistake."

I should have noticed the uncertainty and hope in his voice, but I panicked and was too quick to respond, "Yeah! A massive mistake." My words stung my heart and, to my dismay, his own just as much. "Can we go back to being friends? Because I'm going crazy without you." I blamed our watery eyes to the argument we had had, and not to the fact that it had been a mistake.

He circled the counter and walked to me, hesitating before pulling me into a hug. "Can I...?" I tugged him closer, wrapping my arms around his middle. It took a moment for him to ease into my embrace, and I could tell we had fucked up our friendship for good. "It's alright, we'll make it right again." His words made me squeeze him tighter, as if he was about to vanish from my side.

And from then, we tried to make it right, we tried so hard, because it seemed so easy to make it wrong again.

Everytime we stood too close, everytime he leaned on to whisper something, everytime I helped him with his tie, our eyes would fall on each other's lips; I would sometimes drift off the conversation, staring too much at his mouth and hands, wandering if they would feel just as amazing as they had done while we were drunk.

"Y/n are you listening?"

"Uh yeah- I mean, no- sorry, what?"

I was so focused on trying to hide it that I didn't notice George was in the exact same situation, meaning that neither of us could give in, because we would go down together. In all honesty, it was doomed to happen at some point, we were just delaying the inevitable.

The moment came the last night of January, when George showed up in my room due to a really rough nightmare, and I, as always, invited him in so we could lay down together.

"Isn't this... Weird?" He murmured as we scooted closer. We had kept physical contact at bay for obvious reasons, and cuddling had been off the table since New Year.

"It doesn't have to be." I replied, my voice as quiet as his. "We've done this a thousand times."

"Right." He cleared his throat, averting his eyes from mines as we shifted in our places ever so slightly, trying to find a position where the situation turned less awkward.

And it happened, my mind got lost on the way his neck tensed, on the damp locks hanging over his forehead, sweaty due to the nightmare; on his plump lips, which he had just wetted with his tongue in the most subtle way. It was a nervous habit of him, something he would usually do, but that didn't make it any less hot.

"George..." I called his name without noticing, my heart hammering violently against my chest when his gaze landed on my eyes, quickly falling on my lips.

The next thing I knew was that he was holding my thigh over his hip, his other hand on the back of my neck while we shared a hungry kiss that, as soon as my hips involuntarily rocked against his, turned into something more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

GEORGE'S P. O. V.

The next morning we swore to each other that it was just another accident, that it would happen again.

And the next one too.

And the following.

The fifth time that happened, we agreed to call the situation a 'friends with benefits' kind of thing, well aware that it was an euphemism for the downfall of our friendship.

I had longed to be hers for so long, and it that moment, as I lay by her side in her bed, that wish seemed so close yet so far; I could reach out and my fingertips would touch her skin, yet I had never felt that distant towards her.

The moment my eyes were averted from her form, her gaze was laid on me. "You don't have to go."

"I know." I replied in a mumble, already sitting up and reaching for my pants. "But soon we'll have to get up, so I might as well do that and let you sleep." I didn't want to turn around, I didn't want to see her beautiful irises pleading for me to stay by her side, because I knew I would.

I saw on my peripheral vision her fingers attempting to carefully wrap around my wrist, and I was quick to stand up and walk to the door; sadly, I did not miss Y/n burying her face into the pillow, her hands fisting on the fabric ever so subtly.

She tried to hide her tears like that, and I agressively wiped mines as soon as I reached the corridor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Morning, lady!" I light-heartedly greeted Y/n without turning my back to the making of our breakfast when I heard the steps approaching the kitchen.

In the morning it was easier to pretend everything was back to normal; usually, the refreshing sunlight and the drowsiness provided by a night of sleep were enough to wash away the sad truth of our relationship.

"Good morning, sir." She responded with a yawn, rubbing her eyes as she walked to stand besides me, leaning against the counter with her arms folded. "Smells good." She commented, leaning on to take a peek at the scrambled eggs.

I was about to make a cocky, playful comment when it dawned on me what she was wearing; it was my jumper, one of the old ones that I exclusively used for pyjamas.

I knew she didn't do it intently; I had left it on the floor the previous night, and it was probably the first thing she grabbed, but it struck a nerve.

I had seen a similar scene way too many times before; a sleepy, dishevelled Y/n entering the kitchen with an ugly Weasley jumper as only clothing, ready to start the bickering with an almost identical version of me who would be making breakfast.

My head then travelled to the thought that lately crossed my mind more often than not and my heart clenched; In Y/n's eyes, I was, most likely, just a poor replacement for Fred.

"You alright?" That worried furrow appeared between her brows too often lately. We were both walking on eggshells, and it got me on my nerves.

"You don't have to ask if I'm alright every time I'm quiet." I hadn't meant it to come out harsh or curt, but it definitely did.

"You're not quiet, you're overthinking." She responded with a tinge of hostility.

"What's to overthink?" I fought the need to raise my voice.

"Dunno, you tell me." She squinted her eyes with a scrutinising gaze directed to me.

"Can we not do this?" I almost pleaded; heated arguments had become a usual thing between us —yet another sign of the unfixable problem we refused to address.

Y/n was about to reply something that would lead us into a fight when the doorbell rung. "Mister Weasley?" I took that as a cue to go open the door to Verity, already dressed on her uniform. "The Valentine's Day products arrived, should I unpack them or..." Her eyes flickered behind me and her cheeks heated up. "Y/n—" When I looked over my shoulder, I felt my own face flushing out of embarrassment. Y/n was still my employee and Fred's ex, so Verity catching a glimpse of her dressed in my jumper wasn't the best thing for any of us. "I— am I— sorry, am I interrupting?"

"You're not interrupting." I assured her with a reassuring smile. "Leave the boxes on the puking pastries section, we'll be down in ten."

"Alright, sir." Her curious gaze travelled to Y/n one last time, and with that, she was rushing back down to the shop.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

The ache that had appeared on my chest the day after New Year would end up killing me, or at least it felt like that.

I had a dreadful gut feeling of knowing what caused that pain, but my mind refused to believe it was that, and kept pushing the sensation back into my heart day by day.

George had gone to relocate the puking pastries in the upper level of the shop so I could prepare the section with the Valentine's Day products.

My eyes dawned on the small packages of Amortentia. I knew it was a terrible idea but I needed to know.

I took a look around, making sure Verity wasn't near and George was up still, and brought one of the Amortentias under my nose. It didn't take long for the scents to besot me, and I had to put all my will on not to fall under the potion's spell.

The first smell to reach my nostrils was gunpowder; my heart skipped a bit when the next scent was vanilla.

Then strawberry and chocolate; candy floss cupcakes and George's cologne.

The tiny, heart-shaped bottle fell from my hands, scattering all over the shop's floor. "Shit!" I rapidly kneeled to pick the shattered glass when I realized it had echoed in the empty establishment.

"Oi! What was that?" George descended from the second floor, using the ladder. "Oh shit—" his hands took a hold on my bicep and pulled me away from the pool of pinkish pearl liquid that seemed to be attracting me. "Don't!" He warned Verity, who had attempted to jog in the potion's direction too. "Verity, can you bring me my wand?" The girl complied running up to the office.

In Verity's absence, George took the chance and cupped my cheeks, tilting my head up to check my eyes. "You alright?" I managed to give him a slow nod, my mind buzzing with the newly acquired information. "Getting the Amortentias was a bad idea, wasn't it?" I nodded again, producing a frown between his eyebrows. "No 'told you so'? Are you sure you're alright?" He chuckled nervously, his hands falling to his sides right in time for Verity to rush back to us.

"Here, Mister Weasley!"

"Thank you, darling." He politely replied, taking the wand and restoring the potion bottle in a swift movement. His eyes peeked at me again; I could see the worry growing on him. "Y/n-"

"I'm gonna go wash my face." The words hastily left my mouth before I dashed off to the restroom.

I closed the door behind me and took a look at the mirror; my pupils were blown and my cheeks pink. I ran the tab and splashed the water on my face a few times until the potion's mild effect was gone and my mind clear.

It was in that moment that it dawned on me that I was in love with George Weasley.

[malfoymanortings]

flames and snow //part one

SUMMARY: when arista malfoy refuses to join the dark lord and flees to the burrow, fred weasley vows to do everything he can to keep the girl he loves safe. no matter how much voldemort and her aunt want her dead.

PAIRING: Fred x older Malfoy sister OC

It was a quiet evening at the Weasley Burrow. Dinner time had long past, most of the children had headed up to bed. Molly Weasley was the only one still puttering about the kitchen, putting away the last of the dishes. Arthur Weasley was in the living room, quietly snoring in his easy chair. If Molly held her breath, she could just barely hear Fred and George conversing over their latest idea for their joke shop. Her mischievous twins were growing up, and a small smile crossed her face as she slid the last bowl into the cabinet.

Out of nowhere, a loud bang and rustle came from the living room, causing Molly’s heart to leap into her throat. She hurried into the room, where the scene before her didn’t make any sense at all.

A small blonde girl covered in lacerations and bruises had tumbled out of their fireplace, coughing and crying from where she had landed on the floor. Arthur had obviously just woken up from the commotion, and had his wand drawn at the girl lying on the floor, his eyes still blurry with sleep.

Footsteps came bounding down the steps, and as Molly tried to sort the situation out and figure out what in Merlin’s name was going on in her house, Fred ran to the girl’s side.

“Arista,” Fred choked out, his hands gently brushing the platinum locks out of the girl's face.

It was then, with her face revealed, that Molly Weasley recognized the girl on her living room floor as Arista Malfoy, the oldest and only girl of Lucius Malfoy’s family. Molly Weasley was rarely ever at a loss for words, but in this instance, she had absolutely no clue what was going on.

“They wanted me to join them,” The girl gasped out, tears welling in the corners of her eyes. “I refused the Dark Lord.”

“Fred, what on earth is going on here?” Arthur demanded, his wand still raised at the girl. 

“Mum, can you please help her?” Fred ignored his father, instead giving his mother a pleading look. 

“Right, then, bring her into the kitchen,” Molly stuttered out, turning and readying the kitchen. She supposed at the moment, the most important thing was making sure the child now in her care was alright.

“Bloody hell.” George mumbled, running a hand down his face before helping Fred carry the girl into the kitchen.

“What in merlin’s name is going on here?” Ron questioned as he stared wide eyed at the girl now lying on their kitchen table. Ginny appeared behind him, gasping at the sight.

“Ginny, go get some clothes of yours for her to wear,” Molly ordered, already starting to wipe off Arista’s body so she could assess her wounds properly. “Fred, go get the healing kit from the closet.”

“I’ve got it.” George offered up, leaving and returning quickly with it. 

Fred stayed at Arista’s side, holding her hand gently in his. Her eyes were shut now, and Molly assumed she had passed out from the lack of blood. 

From her years of mishaps with her sometimes careless children, Molly was easily able to begin applying the correct salves and mixing the correct potions to ensure Arista would heal properly. After her many lacerations began to knit themselves together, Molly roused the girl awake so she could drink the blood replenishing potion. 

“Water, please.” Arista screwed her eyes shut, grimacing at the taste. Fred quickly retrieved her a glass, just as Ginny returned with her clothes.

“Here, mum.” Ginny set the clothing down on a chair, unable to stop herself from staring at Arista.

Arista drank the water greedily, her throat moving with the great big gulps she was taking. Fred watched her carefully, and took the glass from her when she was done. 

“Here, change into these.” Molly held out the clothes to the girl, shooing the others out of the kitchen. Fred was reluctant to leave, but Molly gave him a look and he quickly made his way out of the door. 

Molly watched as Arista quickly shed her torn robes, sliding on the shorts and tee shirt Ginny had brought. The girl's body was littered with bruises, all of them recent. Molly grimaced and swallowed hard, unable to imagine what she had likely gone through before she ended up at their home.

“Drink this,” Molly handed her another potion, this one a yellow color. “It will help with the pain.”

“Thank you.” Arista swallowed the potion quickly, grimacing yet again at the taste.

“Let’s go out to the living room, shall we?” Molly asked, motioning towards the room. 

Arista nodded, and followed Molly out to where everyone was waiting. Immediately, Fred was at her side, gently pulling her into his arms. She buried her head into his chest, her arms snaking around him tightly.

“Is someone going to explain why the hell she’s here, and what the bloody hell is going on?” Ron asked hotly, eyeing Arista with distaste.

“Fred, we need an explanation.” Arthur agreed, his tone calmer than his son, confused.

“I very much doubt Arista wants to relive whatever the hell she’s just gone through!” Fred snapped at his family, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Arista’s back.

As everyone began replying to his angry words at once, their voices overlapping, Molly stepped in with a shrill whistle and her hands on her hips.

“I think we can all agree that Fred needs to explain a few things,” conceded Molly with a stern look on her face as she glanced around at her family members. “But right now, this girl has gone through a traumatic experience, and I’m sure the last thing she wants is to be bombarded with questions. Fred, bring her to Ginny’s room, they can share. Come back down afterwards, so we can talk about this.”

Fred nodded stiffly at his mother's words, and gently picked Arista up in his arms bridal style. The girl buried her face into his neck, and her hands shook as she wrapped them around his shoulders. 

Molly watched as they made their way out of the room, feeling as though the rug had been pulled out underneath her. She hadn’t seen Fred like this before, and she wondered how he and this girl had come to be.

“Well, I guess I can fill everyone in with what I know.” George broke the silence, settling into the worn couch.

“Please,” Molly nodded to him, sagging into her favorite armchair next to her husband. “Begin.”

hello i have no idea if this is even worth continuing but let me know if anyone wants more!! fred x older malfoy sister is literally my favorite thing and always has been, yet i never find stories with that plot line. 

Two

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Thirty Three

Crack. 

They ignored the sound and continued their descent back to the flat. 

Today they closed the shop early. Neither had the mind to work, minds too occupied with other matters. Those more pressing than selling Skiving Snack Boxes and love potions. 

In hindsight closing early might’ve not been the smartest move considering now they had nothing to do but worry. 

They knew the raid was happening, probably at that very moment, but of course, they weren’t permitted to go. Only Charlie and Bill were granted that mercy. Some rubbish about how the twins were still too young, despite all they’ve done recently. 

They were the ones who got the bloody apparition point. 

No matter, George suggested they take a stroll down to Fortescues for a bite to eat. They recently added sandwiches to the menu and George figured the two could use the fresh air. 

Diagon Alley wasn’t really like anywhere in the Wizarding World as of late. It was the one place, save for Hogwarts, that most wizards and witches felt thoroughly protected. With all the constant hustle and bustle, a supporter of the Dark Lord would be mad to try anything, it would be near impossible to not have any witnesses. 

“Oh hello there Mr. Weasley! Lovely seeing you here, my son can’t get enough of your shop.” Fred heard a familiar voice say to George who was some meters behind him. 

George stopped to speak to the man, “good to see you too Mr. Kettleburn. Dewey is surely one of our best…” 

Fred let their voices float away and he continued on the path back to Wheeze’s. He was hungry as a Hippogriff. 

It wasn’t until George was out of sight and the shop was right in front of him did he realize his twin brother was hoarding the bag of food. 

“Shite.” He groaned to himself, turning around. 

This time however, Fred decided to take a shortcut he knew, a few alleyways between shops. George was never fond of the route, saying it was ‘creepy’, but he wasn’t here at the moment. 

Whistling to himself he turned down a darkened stone lined path. Unable to see, he casted a quick lumos, igniting the tip of his wand. 

As the end lit up the narrow pathway he spotted something a little ways down. At first, he paid no mind, but as he leered closer he realized this something was no something at all, but a someone. 

He then concluded whoever they are, is simply sloshed and passed out, or is someone from Knockturn Alley looking for a place to hangout for the night. 

But no matter how much he told himself this, something about the form felt so… familiar. 

“Lumos Maxima.” He whispered. 

Crouching down next to the body, he moved some of their dirty matted hair. Fred almost pulled his hand away at the sight of blood sticking to him, but continued nonetheless. 

He stuck his wand closer to their face. It took him a few moments to put it together, but he nearly toppled at the sight. 

“Shite. Fuck. Fuck. Shite.” He cursed to himself standing up abruptly. 

Closing his eyes Weasley did his best to produce a patronus despite his shaking hands and whirling mind. 

And by some miracle he does. 

“Between Gambol & Japes and Magical Menageries, hurry!” He said to the wispy magpie as it fluttered away. 

Taking a shaking breath, he dropped back onto his knees and began to inspect her further. She was cold to the touch. Fred soon realizes that she’s not wearing anything, but you wouldn’t know at first glance. Her body is splattered in bruises, marred with cuts, and smeared in blood. 

Instantly, he shrugged off his dragon skin jacket, not giving a shite how expensive it was, and draped it over her. 

“Come on, wake up, please wake up.” He whispers like a mad man, tears stinging his eyes, “open your eyes, alright? You’ll see Ron, Harry, Ginny. Come on.” He begged. 

“Fred!” He heard a voice call from behind him. 

He turned his head to meet George who ran over and observed the scene. 

“Merlin. Fuck. Is that…” It's like he couldn’t believe it. 

All Fred could do was nod. 

The twin dropped to his knees next to his brother, “shite. Hermione.” He cried out. 

George’s hand began to rove around her until he found the side of her neck. The pulse was faint, but it was there. 

Fred heard him sigh in relief and turned to him, “what do we do?” He was shaking his head frantically. 

George shrugged off his own jacket and placed it atop the one already on her, knowing she could use the warmth. 

“We need to go to Mungo’s now.” He said. 

Fred started wiping his hands excessively on his trousers, wanting to get rid of the red on them, “yes. Yes. You’re right. Yeah.” He muttered. Then he turned to his brother, “Georgie I don’t think I can disapparte, fuck, my hands are shaking so much.” 

“It’s okay.” He assured, “I’ll do it, you side along. Hold her tight. Alright?” George’s voice was now nothing but a quiver. 

“We need to tell someone. Send a patronus.” Fred said, now sensing his twin's fear. 

The other nodded and began wielding his wand, until Fred stopped him. “Not to Bill or Charlie. If-if they're still there it could blow their cover and hers. Dad should be with the others waiting for news.” 

Suddenly, a horrible thought came to George, “fuck, what if- what if this is a set up? What if they’re coming.” He began shaking. 

“Just cast the patronus and we’ll get out of here. She’ll be safe at Mungo’s.” Fred said quickly, still trying to figure out the best way to go about picking her up, not wanting to hurt her worse. 

“St. Mungo’s now. Can’t explain in case this is intercepted.” George told the white wispy animal before it disappeared into the night. 

“Merlin, she weighs nothing.” Fred almost whimpered as he settled the witch in his arms. 

George felt a tear stream his face, “just give me a second to focus.” He pleaded. 

His brother nodded in understanding and turned his attention to the witch, “you’re gonna be alright Hermione. You’re gonna be fine. You can’t die. Our baby brother needs you. Harry needs you. We need you too. The whole wizarding world does.” He cries into her hair. 

The words falling past Fred’s lips seemed to ignite something in George. They needed Hermione, the people they love need Hermione. Hell, he thinks if they want to win this war, Wizarding Britain needs her too. So he’ll be damned if she gets taken away from any of them. 

“I’m ready.” He said, grasping tightly onto the pair of them. 

Fred responded by wrapping an arm around his brother while pushing Hermione further into him, holding onto her much like a parent to a sleeping toddler. 

George began turning, pouring all his focus into his movements. 

Destination. Destination. Deliberation. 

Crack. 

They were gone. 

... 

As they landed, they stumbled but wouldn’t let her fall. It was a miracle no one was splinched. Or maybe Hermione was. They wouldn’t be able to tell. 

Rushing through the doors of St.Mungo’s they were meant by the chaos of the waiting room. However, they both ignored it, pushing past the injured people and toward the welcome desk. 

“Help! Somebody, we need help!” Fred cried out in the midst of the crowd. 

No one came. 

“Please help!” George now called. 

A nurse looking at a cliff board huffed, “sir you’re going to-“ then she stopped to look up at them.

At the sight of Hermione, the woman paled. A nurse at a hospital, who's probably seen everything, paled at the sight. 

Merlin this was bad. 

She instantly conjured a stretcher, “quick put her down!” The old woman yelled as the twins did as she said. “Martin! I need you to page Healer Padmore now! Or Jamison! Anyone!”

A small man in blue robes nodded and ran in the other direction as the nurse began floating Hermione away. 

“Where are you taking her?” George questioned. 

“She needs to be tended to immediately!” The woman said without turning, “you two stay put!” She commanded before running off. 

As they watch Hermione be carted away the pair both share the same thought. How the hell did Hermione get to Diagon Alley? What if they were coming? 

Then it dawns on them. 

There’s a war brewing. 

Nowhere is really safe anymore. 

...

Arthur Weasley ran into St.Mungo’s eyes scanning the mass of witches and wizards for a pair of twin redheads. 

Having no luck of spotting them amongst the people, he ran to the welcome desk. 

“Can I help you sir?” A kind young woman asked. 

“Yes, yes, I’m looking for my sons. They’re twins. Red hair.” 

She seems to ponder on it until realization strikes her face, “oh yes, I remember them. Last I saw they were going down the corridor leading to the East Wing. Leads to the Spell Damage ward.” She informed. 

Arthur smiled out of gratitude more than anything else, “thank you. Thank you so much.” And with that he was off. 

He didn’t spot Fred and George until some ways into the wing for Spell Damaged patients. They were sitting in a row of uncomfortable looking empty chairs. 

“Boys!” He called as his shoes squeaked against the floor. 

At the sight of their fathers face the twins jumped up, instantly engulfing their dad in a hug. At his touch they melted, weeping into his shoulder. 

“It’s alright. Everything’s alright now.” Arthur whispered. 

Fred pulled away and wiped at his eyes, “but it’s not dad.” He said croakily. 

The older man's cocked brow silently asked for more. 

George decided to fill in, sniffling as he spoke, “you should’ve seen her. She didn’t even look like herself. Merlin the blood-“ he choked. 

“Hey, it’s okay, you got her here. That’s what matters.” He reminds tentatively squeezing his son's shoulder. 

“What happened at the raid?” Fred whispered. 

Arthur shook his head at the memory. “I got a patronus from Charlie saying that when they showed up everyone cleared from the manor, but Hermione wasn’t there. They said they’d be back soon, I came by to make sure it was really you two with Hermione before I told anyone. Just your Mum knows.” He explained. 

They nodded in understanding, you could never be too sure these days. 

“I should go back to the Burrow, they’ll be back any minute now, they’ll need to be briefed. Everyone will have to be. I’ll send your mother in my place.” 

“Thank you Dad.” George breathed. 

He gave them a proud smile, “no need. Thank you to the two of you, you’ve made me so proud today. You’ve done a brilliant and brave thing.” Mr. Weasley said a little misty eyed. 

They embraced their father one more time before he slowly started walking away, until he abruptly turned. 

“What’s up dad?” Fred asked curiously. 

“You two don’t have any idea how she got there do you? Was there anyone around? Anything?” He asked in a hushed desperate whisper. 

Briefly the twins exchanged a look before Fred pulled something out of his pocket. It was a long dark wooden thing. Delicately carved designs into its handle. 

“You don’t think-“ Arthur began in disbelief. 

George shrugged, “we don’t know. I mean it’s possible right? Can you check at the Ministry?” 

It took him a moment but Mr.Weasley nodded at the idea, “yes. Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Kingsley. Any idea whose wand it is?” 

They both shook their heads. 

“Alright. I’ll figure it out. I’ll be back soon enough.” He promised his sons. 

“Dad, wait.” Fred stopped. 

“Yes?” 

“You’ve gotta tell him- Ronnie.” He gulped. 

“Of course.” Arthur agreed, “I’ll have Minerva alert them.” He had promised Ron to keep him involved after all. 

“No you don’t understand. The sight of her, it’s gonna break his heart. He’ll blame himself.” Fred admits in a broken whisper. 

His dad could sense the anguish in both boys' eyes and stepped forward one last time, “then we’ll have to hope she pulls through. She’ll help him as much as he’ll help her.” 

With that he walked away before offering his sons a small smile. 

It isn’t until Arthur was out of sight until the twins even spoke. 

“They love each other.” George says like it just now dawned on him, “she loves him back, just as much.” It’s not a question. 

“Yeah Georgie.” Fred whispers, “yeah, she does.”

[shardminds]

silver for monsters (1/?)

pairing: emma swan/killian jones rated: e for extra (in later chapters) wc: almost 5k ish

No matter the truth, he carries the weight of her corpse like a shadow. 

also available on ao3! ♠

it's my cssns submission!

firstly, a thank you to the wonderful mods for organising and facilitating the event! where would we be without you? and also the cssns discord — you lovely humans are just fantastic.

secondly, i owe my wonderful partner-in-crime, beta and artist (this fic has art, people! coming soon!) my life. she deserves more than i could ever give her. love you, salem! give killy a cuddle from me!

now, a note about the fic. this is a witcher au, using inspiration from the witcher games, books and TV show. i have pulled inspiration from all 3. just a fair warning, considering the nature of the witcher universe, there will be gratuitous violence in some scenes. i will be adding characters and tags as they appear in the work to abstain from spoilers but i will let you know in advance that there is no major character death.

happy reading!

“Fuck!”

The cockatrice rears up, flapping its enormous wings and lunging straight for him, talons poised for attack. At full height, it’s almost three times his size—an intimidating sight, but not an unfamiliar one. Killian dodges at the last second, rolling beneath the dirt-encrusted claws and narrowly avoiding the beak that follows to impale him. If he hadn’t thrown out his palm to cast Quen in time, he’d have been thrown across the sewer, probably landing in one of the many questionable pools littering the place. The beast rights itself, elongating its sinuous throat to prepare for its next attack but Killian is faster, springing to action in its short reprieve. His blade strikes true, the sharpened silver slicing from neck to navel through leathery flesh. A choked shriek pierces the cavernous echo around them but it does nothing to hinder his attack. Killian twists his weapon deeper, severing the thick sinew in its throat with a precision only gained from decades of practice.

The draconid oil he’d prepared had done well to weaken the monster, each touch of his sword against tough hide was met with a harrowing screech, each one emanating from its maw with a sickening gurgle as Killian’s coated sword seared its innards. Good. At least the ergot seeds used in its creation hadn’t gone to waste. The common weeds don’t grow this far east of Misthaven.

One final twist is all it takes, tearing out the creature’s windpipe in all its bloody glory, falling to the filth below, darkening the murk beneath its claws. It shudders, struggling for breath, but continues to advance. The guttural gurgle of its demise falling hollow in the dank expanse. Power simmers in Killian’s fingertips as he throws out his palm to cast Aard, shunting the beast backwards and knocking it off balance.

With a heavy thud, the cockatrice falls—

Right into a puddle of shit.

“Oh, that’s bloody lovely.” He grits out, wiping the sludge from where it splattered on his trousers. He’d been planning to start the ride back west, to the familiar place he was reluctant to call anything but that. He’d been planning to take rest between contracts, among the hamlets of Velen, stopping only to deliver the head of the beast and collect his bounty before taking to the path at full speed.

Now he’d have to fork out for an inn.

And a stable.

And a drink.

Bloody lovely, indeed.

Slipping the dagger from his boot to take his trophy—evidence of a job well done—Killian kneels next to the beast’s shredded neck and begins to cut. It takes a couple of minutes, the toughened hide of the beast proving more difficult than expected, but Killian manages to decapitate the thing without too much protest. Despite being smothered in excrement, both human and ornithosaur in origin, Killian wraps up the head in a linen sheet he’d acquired from the last inn he’d visited, slinging the thing over his shoulder to attach to Smee’s saddlebag for the ride into town. It’s hefty, already seeping dark ichor through the fabric, but it’s nothing he can’t handle. Nothing he hasn’t handled a thousand times before.

Shit-stained or not, there’s little people love more than dead monsters.

In his periphery, there’s a shimmer of something long and thin and sharp beneath the ooze of the dead heap.

Feathers. Golden Feathers.

They’d sell for a fair price at any market but, with a wry smile, someone else comes to Killian’s mind. He plucks the protruding tail feathers with a delicate hand and slides them in his scabbard for later. Robin will be pleased.

Smee lingers by the sewer’s decaying entrance, chomping on the greenery of a shallow blackberry thicket without care. Seeing him brings ease to Killian’s bones. The walk to Camelot would be a lot more arduous without him. The dimming sunlight brings out the russet in his hide and he snorts as if to acknowledge the presence of his master. Smee has seen him through so much, his steed for over a decade now, and even as a colt he had stayed true to his commands. He rears his head, giving a soft huff in greeting as Killian reaches out to rub his muscular neck.

“Hello to you too, lad.” He soothes, securing the trophy with thick leather straps to Smee’s saddlebags. It thuds against his hind leg as he shifts to accommodate for the extra weight but Killian talks him through it. “You can rest tonight. We deserve it.”

Smee, ever the conversationalist, responds with a snort. Something Killian would translate as about damn time.

The hunt for the cockatrice had taken longer than he'd anticipated, the cursed beast leading them astray for days before finally returning to roost in the sewers of all places. The sorcerer in these parts—Merlin, he’d said his name was—had informed him it would. They’d sent hunters, knights, even mages to deal with their pest, but none had returned; either fleeing from the beast or succumbing to it.

With the head of the monster firmly attached, Killian steps up into the stirrup and mounts his steed, heels tapping against his belly to spur him forward, back towards the city. With a reluctant snort and a slow start, Smee carries both the Witcher and his cargo to their destination.

It’s long past nightfall by the time they reach the oaken gates and marble paved roads leading to Camelot. It’s a damn sight better than the gravel paths back in Misthaven. The approach to the city is announced with sconces attached to grand flags bearing the sigil of the king, inlaid with gold detailing. A gaudy display of wealth if ever there was one.

Up ahead, before the city entrance, Killian can just about make out the silhouette of a man in robes of purple and gold. Power radiates off him and it trembles in the wolf head pendant resting atop Killian’s chest, even from over 100 yards away. Smee trots closer, almost lazy in his approach. He doesn’t halt until they’re stood before the man who greets them warmly, with a kind face and a gentle smile. Merlin, the sorcerer.

Killian doesn’t trust it.

“I see you’ve dealt with the beast, my friend.” Merlin starts.

“I see you don’t intend to let me in.”

The sorcerer nods at the assumption, as if reluctant to do so and holds out the pouch of coin. Killian lets it thud into his palm. It weighs about right so he doesn’t bother to question it before tucking the payment into Smee’s saddlebag. It’s more than any common contract would afford him.

“The King has requested—”

“The King can go fuck himself.” With a flick of his knife, Killian cuts free his cargo, letting the head of the beast slip to the floor. It cracks on impact, spilling the crimson gore inside, smelling only of death and decay. Iron and rot. Merlin doesn’t recoil, instead choosing to step around and inspect the shattered mass. Mages like him, in positions of power beside volatile Kings, tend to be more accustomed to such displays.

If the stories of King Arthur’s conquests are true, it’s no surprise.

“With your reputation, Witcher,” He starts, prodding the bloodied heap with his foot. It lols to the side, mottled beak clacking against the path. “Do you really think Arthur would take such a risk?”

Killian could not give less of a shit about the opinion of Kings. Especially not ones of lands that dictated their monarchy based on whoever could yank a sword from the sodden shit coated earth. If that were the universal basis for royalty, he’d be King three times over. Merlin waves his hand over the mess of brains and bone, vanishing the mound into nothing and leaving only pristine stone behind. Smee stiffens, sensing the otherness of the man so close to his rear.

With unnatural grace, Merlin steps back to his place between them and the gate, unwavering in his resolution.

“Rumours of the Golden Bride have spread further than you think.”

Of course. Ravens travel faster than horses these days. What happened back in Kovir—

People tend to trust Kings over Mutants, no matter the truth. Killian grunts, the only sign of the tension in his bones in the way he grips the worn leather reins, knuckles taught and surely white beneath his gloves.

“Next time,” He grunts, not flinching at the mention of his past. “Pay upfront. Spare me the journey back.”

Merlin opens his mouth to respond but it’s too late. With probably more force than necessary, Killian kicks Smee into action, turning him to ride away from the white brick barrier that separates him from a good night's sleep before the sorcerer can protest. His work here is done. His contract ended. If they won’t let him into the city, he has no reason to stay. Bath and a bed be damned.

There’s nothing for him here.

They ride onwards.

Killian slows his steed to a gentle trot as soon as they cross the border into Temeria, a silent apology in the calm stroke of his palm behind Smee’s ears.

Moonlight bathes the vast fields of wheat in an ethereal glow. Nekkers peer through the tall sheaves to watch him pass, following him as far as they dare. His medallion thrums with their proximity, the pendant rattling against his mail. If it were any other day, he’d have torn through the harvest, taking down the bastards with broad swoops of his blade. Not today, though. The cockatrice had drained more from him than he initially thought. There’d been no time to brew potions to remedy his weariness, and his supply of dwarven spirit was alarmingly low. The next apothecary along the path would take a beating from his coin purse, that much is certain.

Midnight comes and goes before the path widens into the well trodden roads of more populated areas and more hours pass before they even stumble across an inn shrouded in forest. It’s decrepit and musky, but an inn all the same. It’ll have to do. Killian can tell by the bray of his travelling companion that he won’t last until the next one. There’s water and hay in the mossy overhang out front, its ancient wood almost rotted through but still secure enough to attach Smee’s reins to the post. An old silver mare secured closest to the inn takes one sniff at Killian and sneezes.

“That bad?”

Smee nudges him in response. That bad.

The inside of the inn is as ancient and forgotten as the exterior; thick stone walls, cobwebbed beams, a bar made of mottled oak with ring stains of old ale covering its surface. Upon Killian’s entry, the landlord nods, his pallid skin as thin as paper. The sickness he holds will kill him, it lingers in the shadows beneath his eyes and the pale flesh of his gums as he smiles, with too much joviality.

“Room for the night, is it?”

He will not see the summer.

Killian drops fifteen crowns on the bar, watching the old man’s eyes widen at their shine. “Along with a bath and a bottle of your strongest.”

“Right away, my friend!” He shuffles along, reaching for a slender greying glass bottle that he places on the bar top, before disappearing altogether. The other bar patrons stay quiet, lulled to the edge of listless sleep by the fire crackling in the hearth and the ale in their bellies—gwent games unfinished, tankards half full. Not wanting to follow their lead in sleeping on the hard benches, Killian waits at the bar. He takes a swig, letting the liquid coat his throat in its familiar fire. There are better ways to cope. There are better ways to fend off the dark that threatens to swallow him whole but nothing works quite as well as the burn alcohol leaves behind. Well, usually that’s the case.

Minutes pass and his thoughts, however reluctantly, stray back to Merlin’s earlier words.

The Golden Bride.

Killian had killed her. Killed her, raped her, tortured her, ate her liver, stole the unborn child from her stomach as a payment to the eternally damned gods of old, used her blood for his mutations—the stories change depending on where you are. Nilfgaardians prefer the gory stuff whereas, up in Kovir, they favour the lighter tales. She was their Queen, after all.

The one he couldn’t save.

Each burning gulp helps less and less.

When the dying barkeep waves him over, brandishing a rusted key and an armful of tattered blankets, the burn has gone and only Killian’s thoughts remain.

No matter the truth, he carries the weight of her corpse like a shadow.

The room is barely bigger than a broom closet and the old man has the courtesy to look ashamed of his meagre offerings. It doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, a bed is a bed. Along the way, Killian has learnt not to make attachments to the materialistic.

In the centre of the narrow room, manoeuvred between the end of the dusty four-poster bed and the fireplace, stands a solid wooden bath. The water, lukewarm to the touch and stagnant, comes to life with a flick of his palm and a whisper of “Igni”. Killian doesn’t even bother to be neat, letting his weapons, armour, potions, and coin fall to what little floor space there is available before letting himself sink naked into the warmth. The agitated boil helps to shift the stubborn muck customary of weeks on the path.

How long had it been since his last? A few days, maybe? A week? He’d taken a brief dip in the river just outside Camelot before embarking on his quest— had it really been that long? No wonder the mare had turned her nose up. No wonder Merlin had regarded him with such polite distance.

He’d been wandering around smelling like a Necrophage’s anal gland and no one had bothered to tell him. Not that anyone could tell him. That’s the thing with always being on the path—the only things to talk to are your horse or your hunt.

Monsters aren’t always the best conversationalists.

The waters lap away the aches set deep in his bones, settling each worn muscle with its tender embrace. It’s a luxury he can nary afford, but it’s worth it when he can. When he exits, smelling of old soap and lavender, there is only black silt left behind. A dark mirror on the liquid’s surface. He won’t be able to use it again. He takes his underclothes to the small basin by the bedside to soak instead, too tired to even consider spending any more time away from the clutches of sleep.

For the first time in a long time, he’s asleep before his head hits the pillow. The exhaustion of the weeks passed weighing his bones like lead, as if they’d sink straight through the mattress and into the nether below. He wishes they would.

“Killian.”

He jerks awake—no, not awake. Further into the embrace of a dream. Oppressive darkness and silence surround him, his keenest senses rendered useless in their wake. Beneath him, a plush leather armchair. It’s painfully familiar. Precious, somewhat. Worn and comfortable and moulded to him as if he’d spent a century sat only here. This dreamscape. This void.

Oneiromancy. Perfect.

“Killian.”

A woman’s voice— her voice.

“Emma.”

“And I thought you’d forgotten about me.” She smiles, suddenly appearing in his lap, hips straddling his thighs as if it hadn’t been almost five years since they’d last parted. Five long, arduous years.

“Impossible, love. You’re not so easy to forget.” Killian can feel the steady beat of her heart as his hands take her waist. Soft, so soft.

And centuries old.

“You never thought to stop by on your travels then?”

“The path is—”

“Don’t lecture me. I know,” Pouting, she brings her arms around Killian’s neck. The thin swath of lace she’s wearing does nothing to hide her figure but its intricacies marr the details he wants very much to focus on; the blush of her breasts, the swell of her arse, what lies between those slender legs. Each time he tries to take her in, see past the veil of fabric, it shifts, obscuring his gaze once more. Fucking magic. “But I have missed you terribly.”

“Emma Swan, legendary sorceress and advisor to the throne of Misthaven, missing but a lowly Witcher?” The pale expanse of her neck calls for his kiss, so close and yet so far. “People will talk.”

With a violet flash, Emma winks. “Noise complaints, hopefully.”

His eyes slip shut, trying to maintain what little composure he has left. As disconcerting as dream magic is, he doesn’t want the spell to end. The feel of her so close is maddening. Waking to an empty bed will be torture.

Words he can’t possibly say nor mean jump to his throat, aching to be whispered against her mouth, passed to her tongue by his own as they had longed to so many times in the past. They burn.

“Come see me.”

“Emma—”

“I need you. I can’t tell you why—not here—but I need you.” There’s a silent plea hidden in her words, behind the typical bravado she always favours. He almost doesn’t catch it. She adjusts herself slightly, sitting back on his knees and letting her hands reverently trace the scars across his shoulders and chest. Ones she’s seen before and ones she hasn’t, long healed but still raw to her touch. It’s been too long. Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and it takes every modicum of restraint he has not to kiss her there and then. “Come to King David’s court in Misthaven. There’s a tourney one week from now.”

“I’m sensing I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice. It’s in your best interests to make the right one.”

Killian sighs, letting his palms slide from her middle to her thighs, taking in the phantom warmth he’s missed so greatly. Emma Swan is an enigma. She’s centuries of power wrapped in mystery and untold sorrows and it lingers beneath her skin. She’s the first kiss of morning sun, the dark chill of winter, the wild lilacs that grow along the dirt roads of Misthaven. She’s true love’s first kiss and the denial of destiny. She’s nothing and everything, the beginning and the end.

And, occasionally, his.

“One week?” He muses, hyper focused on the way her nails feel against his skin, as if she were there, as if it were real. Her eyes, green as woodland moss, captivate him in the way they always used to, but they’re not the same. A mere mimicry. Beneath his fingers, the dream begins to fall away.

There’s no depth, just a glimmer of magic below the surface.

Everything’s hollow and when he finally presses his lips to her fading visage, all he tastes is ash, dirt and the absence of all things.

“One week.”

It echoes around the cramped room, a whisper in the darkness not yet reached by morning’s soft first touches. A reminder.

Killian almost missed it. Misthaven. It’s rolling hills and wildflower meadows, deep green forests free of ill fated fiends. Well, mostly free—wraiths and rotfiends are everywhere these days, especially after the war. If they weren’t, he’d be out of a job.

In the five days on the path, across the forgotten poppy-filled battlefields and open plains of Temeria, Killian didn’t encounter much trouble. The first two days were monotonous, non-stop riding through the day and night, brief pauses for food, water and rest.

The day after that saw a kikimora rear its ugly maw as Smee cantered past its roadside hovel, swiping out with its blade-like limbs in an attempt to take out the horse’s legs — it took three swipes of his blade to take it down, the starving queen letting out a defeated whine as glinting silver pierced through her armour and into her brain. Killian left a bomb in his wake, making sure none of her spawn would see the light of day.

Day four drove him closer to the ruins of Vizima, it’s grand stone walls now bleak and crumbled. Killian had been around when it fell, only a few years beneath his belt on the path as the Nilfgaardians withdrew their tyranny. They razed the city, with fire and blood, so that the North would remember what the clutches of Emperor Emhyr var Emreis. The self-proclaimed white flame dancing on the graves of his enemies sputtered and faded just like everyone else on this mortal coil. The flames had kept him warm one night, decades ago, as the fallen city smouldered.

Misthaven greets the horizon on day five. It’s unperturbed woodland gracing his path with an archway formed of two entwined enchanted oaks, their magic forms the base of the wards that surround the city and the sheer power of it is a familiar thrum of energy that has his medallion singing as Smee trots over the border. In the thick bramble bushes beside the sheltered road, fairies shield themselves from view, their sugar plum scent hangs on the air as heavy as horse shit. There’s something he hasn’t missed. After half a mile or so, the rattle of his medallion becomes barely noticeable, a gentle simmer rather than a raucous boil.

Instead of taking the northern road at Lake Nostos towards the bustling city and the castle of King David, they turn to the east, along a too familiar, although far less trodden, path.

Smee huffs at his choices, resisting the tug of his reins.

Killian rolls his eyes. “Don’t you start.”

The Rabbit Hole is, in Killian’s eyes, better than most. Being just outside the city, tucked up against the eastern entrance’s vine smothered portcullis, not many people stumble through its doors by accident. However, with its vast stone hearth, sturdy oak beams and a half decent cellar, the place could weather the harshest Skellige storm with nary but a draught. Ale, food, music and good company. It’s… nice, for lack of a better word.

And, despite the nature of his work, it’s somewhere Killian keeps coming back to. Regardless of the years between his visits.

Smee, ever the dramatic, saunters over to the water-filled trough cemented to the tavern's stable, eagerly eyeing up the hay-filled feedbag beside it. At least, he’ll get a chance to rest as Killian gets his own fill. Haphazardly, he knots Smee’s reins to the hitching post, leaving just enough slack for him to be able to reach his amenities and socialise with the unsaddled gelding tied up on the other side of the post.

Killian pulls his coin purse from his steed’s saddlebags, knowing full well he’ll spend it one way or another. The door swings open before he can even tap the shit off his boots.

“You took your time, Captain.” Will Scarlet, with his signature troublesome smirk, is upon him in an instant, arms thrown around Killian’s shoulders, squeezing tightly as his skinny arms allow. He’d never been one for heavy lifting, more interested in wielding a lyre than a sword, and it shows in the way he greets his old friend as if it hasn’t been almost five years since Killian left him in Toussaint in the bed of a baroness whose husband had not been best pleased to find him there. The stench of Mahakaman mead on the bard’s breath permeates the air. The half-decade has barely touched him.

It hasn’t touched Killian either but, then again, mutations will do that to a man.

“Is that what they’re calling me now?”

Will peels himself away, stumbling back into the oak door frame that knocks the air right out of him with an oof. His brow furrows ever so slightly and someone from the other side of the dimly lit pub chortles at his discomfort. Will throws an obscene gesture his way before coming to Killian’s side instead.

“Just roll with it mate, you wouldn’t like the alternative.”

Killian shrugs. Murderer, Mutant, Devil— “I have been called worse.”

The bard nods in agreement, letting Killian step over the threshold and into the dark innards of the inn. They both have. Back when they travelled together, there was nary a day that insults weren’t hurled their way. Killian never had the chance to apologise back then, and it doesn’t seem right to bring it up now.

Will looks… happy.

“Anyway,” He starts, falling back on his chipper tone and catching Killian off guard as he hops over the bar top with ease, grabbing a tankard on his way. “To what do I owe the pleasure?

“I’m not too sure of that myself.”

Will places the tankard before him, full of a sweet smelling dark ale. “No contract?”

Killian knocks back the mug in one, letting the slightly soured brew flavour his tongue. It’s better than the pig swill he’s settled for along the Path. Then again, Will always was one with good taste; always the finest inns, the grandest company, lining his pockets with the gold of diplomats and dukes alike. Despite all that, The Rabbit Hole suits him, dust and dirt be damned. He hum’s, considering how to answer, before settling for the simplest one. “No.”

“No valiant quest?”

Killian shrugs.

“Ah,” Eyeing him knowingly while taking a sip from his own cup with a smug smile, Will hums. They’ve known each other long enough now for him to be able to read between the lines. “A summons then.”

“Can’t I just stop by and visit an old friend?”

“Theoretically, yes. But that’s not in your nature is it, mate.” There’s a pause. Someone laughs from the other side of the room, lit only by a handful of candles to fend off the dark even in the daylight. Will doesn’t even blink, drumming out a rhythm on the countertop, wearing an ever present smile. “Especially knowing that there’s a certain sorceress within the city walls.”

Killian had no idea what he was here for, not really. One dream and he’d come running like a well trained dog, a pet. He can’t even feel shame about it. Emma could’ve asked him to pick daisies in the grand gardens of King David and he’d have come running, a prisoner to his emotions. His mutations should have rid him of them decades ago and yet—

He lets himself be seen, letting his posture slip to a slouch. The ride was harder on him than he’d anticipated and his limbs call for sleep, the ache of it weighing him down. Will is, above all else, his oldest friend. If he can trust anyone, it's him.

“What’s going on, Killian?”

Lilac and gooseberries, touched with cinnamon and the undeniable scar of power. It singes the air with its grace and sets Killian’s medallion ablaze with activity before he can even register the draught behind him hadn’t come from the door. Will looks up, eyes rapidly widening in a mix of familiarity and surprise, but Killian doesn’t have to. He knows. She must have sensed him when he passed the kingdom's wards, followed the sing of his own power to find him, greet him.

Killian turns and lets a smirk tug at his lips as silence hangs like a criminal, the whole inn rendered mute by her entrance. In awe. In fear.

Emma.

Time hasn’t dared touch her. It hasn’t in aeons. In the years Killian has known her, she has always looked this radiant. Hair curled loosely over her shoulders and a dress of lace laid over silk, bright and beautiful and absolutely incredible. An aura of light surrounds her, bringing illumination to the dim room. From her very core, she is beautiful.

Killian has missed her.

She smiles, knowingly.

"I haven't told him yet."

[misc-oneshots]

Good lads

The first year that Fred and George open their business they use some of their profits to get Mrs Weasley a present that she’ll never forget.

Words: 1,343 No reader insert – drabble really.

It was Christmas morning and George woke up thinking about costing spreadsheets. The joys of adulthood and owning your own business. Fred snored loudly, the sound jolted him awake and he sat up at looked at his brother still sat in bed on the other side of the room. “I was dreaming about when we charmed that swamp in the hallway at Hogwarts,” Fred whispered not willing to break the silence of the morning yet, “Expect this time it ate Filch.” “Good dream then,” George laughed, “I woke up thinking out the spending chart we made, I think we could take on a part timer at the shop.”

Fred ran a hand through his hair, “Look at us, talking business on Christmas day, I’m ashamed.” George stretched and groaned, “We should be disgusted.” The twins were almost always the first up on Christmas morning, only narrowly beating Mrs Weasley but she always woke with more vigour and she was quick to start charming the pots and pans to cook and waking up all her children so that they could open their presents before she’d have to focus solely on cooking dinner. In years past Fred and George woke early to set up whichever prank they’d gone for that year but this time the surprise they had was much more valuable.

Light breakfast, opening presents, dinner, board games, supper and then relaxing until bedtime, that was the way the Weasley’s did their Christmas and none of them would have anything different. “C’mon, lets go wake up the tribe.” George mumbled and slipped on his dressing robe and threw Fred’s at him before they shuffled up to the arctic to wake up Ron and Harry, who was staying at The Burrow over the festive break. After they’d tackled Percy and then woke up Bill and Charlie who were both staying in their old shared room as they’d also come home for the festive break. Together they went down for breakfast and told bad Christmas jokes to each other while Bill braved waking up Ginny – He was only one who could do it without being hexed. They joined the rest of the Weasley clan as the kettle finished boiling for the second time and they woke up over morning tea and coffee.

When they all moved to the living room the first present that everyone opened, as always, was the new jumpers that Mrs Weasley had made and everyone donned them happily warm and cosy. Fred stood up as they were decided whose presents to open next, “Me and George want to give Mum ours first.” Molly narrowed her eyes at her boys, they always brought their presents together, but they never usually targeted her with the Christmas pranks. She pointed at them, “You do remember the chat with had last year about giving live presents?” “Yes Mum.” They answered together and behind them Ron promised to tell Harry the full story later. “And you know that we don’t explosive presents anymore?” Molly inquired and again her sons agreed that they knew to behave and again Ron promised to tell Harry properly later.

George would admit, many years later when Fred wasn’t there to stop him, that both were worried that day to give their mother their present. It had taken them so long to track down that the closer it had come to giving her their present the more they were worried that they had made a mistake.

George passed the slim box over to their mother and he and Fred moved to perch on either arm of the arm chair that she was sat in. Molly gave them both a suspicious look before slowly opening the lid like she still expected something to jump out. With a gentle hand she moved away some of the tissue paper in the box and gasped in shock at the present delicately laid in the bottom of the box. She put one hand to her chest and looked between her two mischievous sons, her eyes brimming with tears, “Where – where on earth did you find-?” Molly swallowed her emotions down and with them the rest of the words that had been on the tip of her tongue. “What is it?” Arthur asked his wife and the other Weasleys tried to lean in their seats to peak in the box with no luck.

Fred reached into his back pocket and pulled out the small, worn photo that had started their quest for their mother’s present. He passed it to Molly and mumbled, “We remember you having to get rid and well, we tried to find them.” “Please don’t tell us we’ve gone and got the wrong ones.” George joked. Molly shook her head, placed the box down gently on her lap and wrapped an arm around her sons on either side of her and placed a kiss to each of their heads. Tears escaped her eyes and hid in their hair. She let them both go and wiped the tears away with a handkerchief that Percy handed her. “Thank you boys, I don’t have the words.” She whispered. “We know you had to do a lot to keep us all together when we were younger.” Fred told her. George finished, “Think it’s about time we started looking after you.”

Molly looked back down at the photo and brought it up to watch her and Arthur’s younger selves smiling in the wizard photograph. It was their wedding day, Merlin it only felt like yesterday, but she’d certainly gained some grey hairs and Arthur had more laughter lines since that day. She had worn her mother’s dress and her grandmother’s jewellery, a sliver enchanted necklace and earrings, the most beautiful possession of her mother’s family had been given down to her on her wedding day. Molly swallowed hard as the memories flooded back. When she’d been pregnant with Ron she’d had to sell the jewellery set, it had broken her heart, truly she had wept over that decision, but her family came first. With five children already, pregnant with another, a husband between jobs and overdue bills, Molly had to look after her family. She’d thought about her choice so much since then, Molly would do it again in a heartbeat if her family needed help, but she regretted that she’d never be able to hand them down to Ginny.

How her sons had gotten back the jewellery she’d never know, she and Arthur had tried a few times to track down the precious heirlooms but to no avail. Molly ran her fingers over the jewellery in the box, her touch was soft like the jewels may crumble under to hard a touch or fall back into her imagination. But no, they were there, and it even looked like her sons had tried to polish them. Molly swallowed hard and passed the photo down to Ron who was sat on the floor so that he could pass it to his Dad who was watching the scene with a soft gaze. Fred and George both leaned down to kiss either of Molly’s cheeks before jumping up and rushed back over to where Ron sat and trying to make him open their gift to him – they even promised that it wouldn’t bite him like last year.

Arthur came over to sit on the arm on the chair that Fred had vacated and wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders. He squeezed her shoulders and leaned down to Molly’s ear, “I told you that we didn’t need to worry about them, you’re a fantastic mother and they’re good lads.” Molly patted his knee and tried not to get emotional again, they watched as Ron opened his present and true to the twins word this year their present didn’t bite but it did growl. Molly rolled her eyes, well, they were almost good lads.

[writekindofwrong-blog]

Come Home - Keith x Reader

Requested by anon: Can you do a voltron scenario where when goes to do his whole discovering himself thing at the Blade of Marmora, instead of when he sees Shiro he sees his s/o who wants to 'go home and settle down together'? Bonus if his s/o is there and watching with Shiro

Love this request, especially because it gave me an excuse to rewatch the Blade of Marmora episode, thanks for the request I hope you like it :D

Also I may or may not have stolen the idea for the "remember the first time I kissed you scene from Arthur and Gwen's scene in Merlin, but I just couldn't resist.

Now I know this isn't exactly what you asked for since it isn't so much about them settling down together? Hopefully it's still alright? What I was thinking of was doing a replacement scene of the bit where Keith sees his dad but instead he sees his s/o and it's them married maybe with a young child? And she's trying to convince him to stay? I didn't want to add it to this one as it's already so long but I could write that as a part 2, let me know :D

*********

"Are you sure about this Keith?" Shiro asked; trying and failing to keep a slight note of panic out of his voice.

"Shiro I have to do this, this is my one chance to get answers about my past" Keith replied, pulling the last of his Marmora battle armour on.

Y/N noted the determined look on her boyfriend's face and realised there was no way he was changing his mind, Shiro had seemed to come to the same conclusion as instead of arguing further he just sighed and nodded.

"I'll give you guys some time" Shiro said looking between them and stepping out of the room.

"Keith..." Y/N started, she knew what she wanted to tell him, those three little words that neither of them had said to each other yet, she so wanted to say it but the words just got caught in her throat .

"Just...just be careful okay"

"I'll be fine Y/N, stop worrying" Keith tried his best to put on a reassuring smile but Y/N could tell he was nervous, and he had every right to be, either he succeeded in this combat trial or he died trying.

Keith would have to be stupid not to be afraid of failing, Keith may be headstrong and cocky but he wasn't stupid.

"Hey" Keith said softly, bringing Y/N out of her thoughts "Could you do one thing for me?"

"Anything" Y/N replied earnestly.

"Show me that beautiful smile of yours"

Y/N chuckled slightly although it may also have been a slight sob, there were tears in her eyes, as she realised this might be the last time she spoke with Keith, and try as she might she couldn't muster a smile.

Keith placed two fingers gently under Y/N's chin and tilted her head up so she was looking at him, he gazed into her eyes for a moment and tenderly wiped a stray tear from her cheek before continuing.

"Do you remember the first time I kissed you?"

And despite everything Y/N couldn't help but let a fond smile cross her face at the memory, remembering how nervous Keith had been when he had pressed his lips against hers for the briefest of moments before pulling away and how she had laughed and pulled him back in for a longer kiss.

"That's more like it" Keith said with a smile that mirrored her own.

Then without warning Keith's expression grew serious and he leaned in to kiss Y/N passionately, one hand resting on her cheek, the other coming up to cradle her the back of her head. Y/N's arms instinctively rested around Keith's neck and deepened the kiss, they stayed there kissing heatedly until an awkward cough behind them broke their collective trance.

They moved apart, Y/N blushing slightly, she had completely forgotten about Shiro.

"I'll just errm..." Y/N gestured outside the room and gave Shiro and Keith some privacy to say what they needed to say, partially to give her some time to cool down. When outside the room though, her thoughts raced, the main thing on her mind? The fact that she hadn't told Keith she loved him. This might be the last time she saw him and she was too much of a chicken to say three little words?

Y/N shook her head, she couldn't think like that, she had to be positive. Keith was going to be fine and when he finished this trial and was safe...then she was going to tell him she loved him.

*********

Y/N winced as Keith took a blow to the side, it was agonising watching him in this much pain, unable to do anything to help him, she could feel Shiro squeeze her shoulder in reassurance, but he was nervous too, she could feel it.

"Surrender the blade and the pain will cease"

"Never" Keith growled through gritted teeth.

Y/N wanted to scream at him for being so stubborn, if he would just give up that damn knife he would be safe and he could come home.

"You are not supposed to go through that door" and yet Keith charged through into the next room anyway, Y/N had lost count of how many rooms that was now, but in the next room Keith did something unexpected.

Instead of fighting he threw his knife and jammed one of the floor panels before they closed and jumped through it, and went down to the lower level where is adversaries had been coming from. Y/N almost cheered in relief, he had solved it...hadn't he? But then he collapsed  the strain of fighting had finally caught up with him. Shiro and Y/N both tensed with worry, but he'd be fine right? He had finished the trial, they had to help him.

"The trial is not yet over" the Blade of Marmora member, who stood with them, uttered, as though reading her thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked angrily "He solved your trial, he won"

"The trial is not yet over" was the only answer she received.

"But you have to help him, he's badly injured!" Y/N continued, half angry, half pleading.

"Y/N..." Came Shiro's voice from beside her, Y/N turned to looked at him and noticed he was still watching Keith.

But Keith wasn't alone, helping him to his feet was...Y/N? How was that possible?

"It's a virtual mindscape, created by his suit, reflecting his greatest hopes and fears, and at this moment your friend desperately wants to see you"

Y/N processed all of this as she watched Keith and this fake version of herself reunite.

*********

"Y/N?" Keith asked shakily, looking up almost in disbelief as Y/N nodded and offered him her hand, to help him up.

"What happened?" Keith asked as he got unsteadily to his feet.

"You did it!" Y/N said, clearly relieved "You passed their trial, now all you have to do is give them the knife and we can go home"

Keith paused for a moment looking sadly at Y/N.

"Keith, what's wrong" she asked, her voice full of concern.

"You know I can't give them the knife"

"Why not? Don't you want to come home...with me?"

"You know I do, but...."

"But nothing, you beat their stupid test, you have nothing to prove; least of all to me" Y/N said softly, coming closer to Keith and resting her hand on his cheek.

Keith closed his eyes sadly, he hated doing this to Y/N, he didn't want to hurt her but he couldn't just give up now, not when he was so close, why couldn't she understand that?

"Y/N I can't just give up, I have to get answers"

Y/N's brow furrowed in annoyance and she withdrew her hand from his cheek.

"Keith...I want us to be together but I don't think I can stay with someone who’s so selfish"

"Wait...no...Y/N I want us to be together too"

"Well then you know what you have to do"

"Y/N I want to be with you more than anything...but I need answers about my past"

It was at that moment that Y/N turned and began to walk away.

"No Y/N please don't go...please...I...I love you..."

He began to run after Y/N but then there was a white flash of light and he fell to the floor unconscious.

When he woke up Y/N was there hovering over him, tears in her eyes.

"Y/N you came back..." Keith said weakly.

"Sssh it's OK, it wasn't real, it wasn't really me, it was a mental projection...yet another trick from the Blade of Marmora"

Keith sat up slowly as Y/N's words registered.

"Hey Keith?"

"Yeah..."

"I love you too"

[ao3-hipster-fangirl-trash]

Frost the damn cupcakes

Merlin x arthur

Made for anonymous (lets be real, made for my weird af friend Kayleigh)

Prompt: merthur 43: frost the damn cupcakes

Summary: Merlin always seems to act a bit weird before an execution, he thinks that arthur probably doesn’t notice but he does, yet today is different, today is worse than any other.

Word count: 2211

Warnings: death/execution, angst, crying, a whole bunch of emotion pain

lol I’m not sorry, enjoy!!

Arthur knew that the day would be bad when, instead of the curtains being drawn and accompanying a chirpy or sarcastic remark from his manservant, instead he got a nudge and a “Wake up.”

Yup, today was definitely going to be a bad day.

Of course that was only a hinting factor, the real contributing factor was that today, a young wizard was to be executed for ‘crimes against the kingdom.’ Arthur knew that Merlin would be frosty today, and probably for a few days afterwards, always keeping himself reserved and in a corner through the entire execution, avoiding the ceremony afterwards and trying his hardest not to look arthur in the eye. That was the rotten part, that the only person that arthur truly trusted, saw him as a horrible being, that caused death and destruction, and couldn’t even look at him sometimes.

The execution itself went as it always did, uneventful.

Uther gave a speech warning those against the ‘evils’ of sorcery, trying to sway them in their paths, and about how this man in front of him had been ‘corrupted,’ and eventually, the drum began to roll.

The man looked the royals, each in the face, giving them one last look of pain, then turned to the side, giving someone in the audience a nod.

Arthur traced his line of sight to see a familiar figure dressed in a blue shirt, with a red neckerchief and tears tracking down his face, unashamedly looking the man right in the eye and giving him a nod of solidarity, before Uthers hand fell, Merlin flinched away from the scene, and the axe severed the head in one clean movement.

Arthur turned back to the crowd hoping to spot the red neckerchief again, only to see that the crowd had consumed the square in the usual pandemonium, swarming away from the head rolling around on the floor, and going home to discuss the hatred of the king.

Arthur swept back inside, following his father through the halls until they separate at the stairwell, arthur going to his chambers, and Uther to the throne room, no doubt to boast and brag about how quickly the execution went, and to receive praise for his judgment, arthur on the other hand only wanted to reside by himself, and finally remove the stupid cloak which had been choking him all day.

He opened the double doors to an empty room, with clothes still scattered around and his breakfast left on the table, still not removed from the room by his forgetful manservant, who seemed as absent as ever.

Arthur sighed and pulled off the cloak, draping it over the chair and gently pushing his hand through the fur at the top and the inside, meant to keep him warm when the weather took a turn for the worst.

He took in a deep breath and began to remove his armour, until he was left in his undershirt and trousers, and walked over to the bed, lying down on it. He let himself relax for a bit, almost drifting off until he heard the door open slightly, then shut.

“Sire?”

Oh shit, not prat, or clotpole, or your (sarcastically) majesty, but sire. Merlin really didn’t want to talk today.

He began to mill around the room with his back to Arthur, picking up the discarded cloak which had been forgotten on the chair, and moved over to the bed, to find Arthur, spread eagle, lying down with his eyes closed facing the ceiling.

“Merlin, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Merlin sighed and continued his path around the room, rearranging small things, making sure that they were properly dusted, before moving onto the next object, clearly avoiding looking at Arthur, and trying to keep himself busy.

Arthur gently opened one eye to see merlin at his left, rearranging a bouquet of flowers in their vase, keeping his gaze glued to the petunias which were before him.

“You knew the sorcerer.”

Merlin froze, every muscle in his body suddenly locking in place and forcing him to remain immobile. His breaths became quick and shallow and his hands began shaking. Arthur swore to this day that he could hear small, shaky breaths making their way through the shallow ones, almost as if Merlin were crying.

“Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin remained still, his eyes still straining to gaze only at the flowers, which had suddenly become far more interesting to him than the current conversation. His hands slowly curled into fists and he felt his nails dig into his palm, making crescents in the skin beneath them.

“Merlin,” Arthur stated firmly, this wasn’t a request anymore, this was a command from his prince and boss, and he knew he had to obey.

Merlin turned to face Arthur, his eyes still cast down, looking at his boots which were shuffling uncomfortably. One of his nails pierced his skin and he felt blood pool around the finger, before rolling to the bottom of his hand and dropping onto the tiles, then another, and another.

“Your eyes are red,” Arthur stated, “Have, Merlin have you been crying?”

Merlin remained silent, the blood still gently dripping from his hand to the floor, it would probably leave a stain of some point that merlin knew he would be cleaning up with a brush and some cold soapy water.

His breathing was still shallow, and he was trying his hardest not to look arthur in the eye, but he found himself flicking to them every so often, expecting to see disappointment and disgust lurking in the blue, only to find something that looked suspiciously like pity and… fear?

Arthur pendragon, was afraid.

Merlin's eyes quickly flicked back to the ground, but the damage had already been done, and he knew that he would have to look back at him. He knew that he would meet arthur's eyes and arthur would see how scared and upset merlin was. And he would know it was because of the sorcerer, because in some cases, arthur wasn’t completely useless.

“Merlin,” It wasn’t harsh, unforgiving or disgusted, it wasn’t commanding or spiteful, it wasn’t kingly, godly or knightly.

It was soft, and kind and forgiving, it made the back of Merlin’s eyes sting and he knew he was going to cry, he knew he was going to break if Arthur said his name in kindness one more time.

“Merlin, what’s wrong?” Instantly, the tears began to fall, tracking down his cheeks, wiping away the grime from working earlier, and settling on his jaw, not falling, but just waiting for a little while.

“Look, I, I don’t want to talk about it, I, I’m fine,” he whispered, barely able to be heard.

“No you’re fucking not, Merlin please, I’m your friend.”

Merlin took in a sharp breath between his teeth, almost as if the word offended or hurt him, but one thing at a time, and right now Arthur had to help the man crying in his room.

Merlin sniffed and looked back up at Arthur, his eyes still brimming with tears.

“I knew him.”

“Knew who?” Arthur thought he knew, he wished he didn’t, hoped with all his heart it wasn’t, but he was sure it was.

“The sorcerer.”

Arthur was frozen, his face a stoic mask and his body completely immobile, but whilst he was physically still, his brain was rushing at the speed of a frightened stallion.

“You, knew him?” he wanted to ask everything, how, who, why? All questions that came to mind, but that would only help him, not Merlin.

“His name was will, and he used to live in Ealdor, he was my friend.”

Before Arthur knew what he was doing he had engulfed Merlin in a hug, his arms wrapping around Merlin’s waist, pulling him close and holding him steady. Merlin nuzzled his head into Arthur's neck and began to sob, gradually slipping to the floor, until the both of them were sitting on the ground, relying on each others embrace, where Arthur held Merlin delicately, whereas Merlin had let his hands wrap around Arthur’s biceps, holding onto them for dear life.

Arthur looked towards Merlin, who had stopped sobbing, and had moved on to periodically sniffing, but who was still lying on Arthur, his eyes half closed and his cheeks redder than before, almost the same shade as the tip of his nose.

Arthur bent down and placed his chin over Merlin's head, pulling him ever so closer, guilt consuming arthur a little more, every time he thought more about the situation.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin looked up at him, his eyes flicking between Arthur’s and waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I’m sorry you had to watch your friend die, I’m sorry I didn’t stop it from happening,” Arthur had his eyes closed, his brow was knitted together and he looked truly remorseful.

“Arthur-” Merlin brought up his hand and rested it on Arthur’s cheek, tethering him to reality.

“You’re not the one who killed him.”

Arthur nodded, but still felt guilt building up in his stomach with every second that he thought about it.

Merlin’s hand tilted Arthur’s head gently towards him, guiding him to look at Merlin’s deep blue eyes, which seemed to glow ever so slightly, perhaps it was the sunlight in them? He didn’t care, all he realised was that they were getting ever so closer, and occasionally flicking towards his lips.

He began to lean in, hesitantly and gently, his own hand making its way to Merlin’s cheek, before their lips gently brushed together, then were crushed against each other in desperation.

They moved in an almost rehearsed synchronicity, yearning to stay connected for an eternity, their lips merging in a fit of passion, as Arthur felt a feeling deep in the pit of his stomach, an almost painful fiery jab of something that could only be described as pure, unadulterated elation, urging him to hold Merlin tighter and keep him here forever. Merlin reciprocated, gripping Arthur’s shirt, desperately trying to eliminate any sort of space between the two of them, not caring that the shirt cost more than every house in Ealdor combined, he just wanted Arthur closer to him.

Arthur was gripping Merlin’s hair, tangling the strands between his fingers and pushing Merlin closer towards him, messily and hungrily devouring his lips in a frenzy, tears streaming down both their faces as they thought of the circumstances that brought them together, yet only letting it fuel them further and further until they had to come up for air.

Merlin gasped, panting, with his eyes closed, as his forehead rested against Arthur’s, who seemed to be in the same state as him, and felt himself give a small smile, before moving back in and giving the crown prince a gentle peck on his lips.

“Arthur, I- Oh dear gods.”

Arthur and Merlin turned towards the door to see Morgana standing at the entrance, her eyes wide with a tray of cakes on them, completely speechless at the sight in front of her.

“MORGANA!” Both Merlin and Arthur chorused, as they tried their damned hardest to get to their feet and regain some sense of composure, despite how far away composure may seem considering their crumpled clothes, swollen lips and messy hair, pointing in all manner of directions.

The more they struggled to get up, the worse it seemed to make it, getting them more and more tangles, almost like a chinese finger trap, the more you try to escape the more you seal your fate.

“We were just-”

“You see I-”

“It’s not-”

“OH would you shut it please you two,” she stated, with an air of finality, “You must think me completely blind or a fool.”

Both of them gulped.

“Anyway, Arthur, I brought these up for you, you seemed stressed earlier, however I wouldn’t be opposed to you sharing them.” she said with a cheeky smile, and closed the door behind her.

They both looked at each other, then laughed before finally untangling themselves.

They looked towards the tray in curious wonder, at a small array of pastries, mostly french or danish, before seeing a small round object that looked suspiciously like a cake of sorts… in a ….cup?

“Is that a, a cake?”

“In a cup… a cake cup?

“Cupcake.”

“Ohhhhhhhh.”

They lifted a small bowl with frosting in it, before looking at one of the small cakes, and dipping it in, before merlin lifted it to his lips, taking a small bite and feeling his own eyes light up, dang, this tastes good.

Arthur was still looking at the cake, confused and completely weirded out by a pastry, whereas merlin seemed to be wolfing his down with vigour, until he saw Arthur take a bite and recoil at the almost savery tread.

Merlin laughed and brought the bowl towards Arthur, with a wicked glint in his eyes.

“Arthur?”

“Mmmm?”

“Frost the damn cupcakes.”

[asher-blackwood]

Into The Light chapter 5

The smell of old books, herbs, and citrus oil fills his nose as he wakes. It seams he dozed of in a large leather arm chair made soft and comfortable with age. He yawns and stretches the small through falling off his shoulders. The room he finds himself in is warm, cozy, and familiar to him some how. The walls are lined with book cases but they are all closed and locked. The may trinkets and paintings in the room are all slightly out of focus, and no matter how many times he rubs his eyes this does not change. After a few moments a light chuckle reaches his ears and he is very surprised to find an elderly wizard sitting in the chair across from him. "Hello there William. It's nice to finally be able to meet you."  Bill blinks, this man wasn't there a moment ago and yet it's as though he has always been there. "Who are you ?" He asks in a calm voice that just made the older man smile. " That is both simple and complicated, but I will do my best to answer your question." He nods body tense with anticipation. He's not sure why but for the first time in a long while it feels as though he's moving forward.    

 The air smells sweet like flowers, mint and honey with just a tuck of rain. Draco rubs his eye as he sits up in the large bed he finds himself in. To his left large windows stand open bringing in the lovely smell that woke him. A gentle laugh fills the space like music and he turns toward the sound. To his right is a stunning woman siting on a small cushioned stool working on what looks like embroidery. Feeling his eyes on her she looks up and smiles. "So  you are awake at last." He gives a small nod, trying to remember who this woman is and how he knows her.  The woman at his bedside has a regal air, her long blood red hair is braided back and he could swear it ended in purple just like his. He hears he laugh again and looks in to he silver eye rimmed with long blank lashes. " You must be wondering what is going on are you not?" He looks at his hands, " May I ask a few questions then?"  She smiles and give her ascent. "Who are you, first of all? Second how do you know me, and third where are we?"  She gave him an amused smile, " I'm not sure you would believe me if I told you, but I will do my best."  She sighs now looking sad. The look makes Draco's heart ache, what was going on, he wonders. But before he can ponder it further the woman starts to speak. " Do you believe in reincarnation?" He looks at her not sure how to answer. He hadn't really thought about it be for. " It's alright if you don't know Draco this isn't a test." She smiles and continues, " I ask because there are many with in the magical community who, by either curse or fate, are the reincarnation of someone else. You are one such person." Draco just stairs at the woman in complete disbelief. This sort of thing happens to heroes and such. Not people who spent most of there live lying to themselves. She seam to know what he was thinking as she raps him in a gentle hug. "You are more then you know. I promise this isn't some joke or mistake. I know after everything it's hard but this is real ok." She releases him from the hug, turning her back to put away her needle work so he can wipe his eyes unseen. " Now then to answer your query from before. I have been called many name but the first one was Gwenfar and you were once me and we have been many other till we became you. And no I'm the only one who will talk to you like this."  She motions for Draco to get out of bed and to sit on the stool while pulling out brushes, combs, and other bits and bobs. She begins to brush his long hair as she continues. " Our collective knowledge and power is a part of you and has always been, but this doesn't change who you are now only opens more doors. So don't worry. As your body changes and you come into your full power things will become more clear. You will awaken to you former memories and your magical heritage will grant you many new powers, but there will be drawbacks as well." She begins to braid his hair in a beautiful but every complicated way. Draco takes a breathe and says as calmly as he can, "I know Gwenfar means king maker or rather granter of kingship. If that's true then would you be..." She giggles and it's a joyous sound and nods. "Yes young one once we were called Guinevere  soul bound and queen to Arthur Pendragon High king of all Brittanya. But the really story is not what you think but in time you will remember."  She pause as though listening to some unheard sound. "It seams to be time. Good luck my other self." As her words get softer a light fills the room and Draco Malfoy opens his eyes to his room in France, birds singing into his window.  What a strange dream to have...he thought climbing out of bed. He suddenly stops dead  in front of his dressing mirror and sees his hair still in its beautiful but complicated braid.

 Bill just looks at the old man like he's gone mad. "So you're telling me that I was you, once upon a time."  The old man just smiles sipping his tea. " Yes William that is what I'm telling you." He crosses his arms waiting for his companion to say more. When finally he ask the question that had most been on his mind. " Well then who did I used to be then?" The smile that brakes across the aged wizards face is blinding. "Well William once you where me, as I've said, and I am Merlin. And you will help The King bring a new golden age to our world." He stairs at the smug looking old man, he wants to argue but something in him knows that it's true. So he does what he always does. " What must I do?" Merlin smiles, "You just need to be patient and don't fight the changes. You have always had this power and knowledge in you. But now you will be gaining access to it till eventually it/I will just be apart of you." Bill runs his hands through his hair, "Alright I will do my best." Merlin's voice fades as he say, " I know, good luck my other self." The room fades into nothingness as he wakes to find morning has come.

 Harry sits in a chair by Bills bed nothing anyone tells him makes the boy feel any better. He is convenient that he some how caused Bill's collapse and so he sits waiting to make sure he's ok. The sun has just filled the room with light when Bills sits up stretching. "Bill, are you ok. I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you." Harry looks like he's about to cry when Bill smiles and ruffles his hair. "I'm alright I promise, you didn't do anything. I'm ok." Harry rubs at his eyes smiling, "I'm so glad." Bill grins as Harry runs out to get someone. So It is Harry. These thing always seam to happen to him. He sighs getting up and dressing. By the time the Harry, Remus, and his mother arrive he's cleaned up, dresses and is back in bed.

 The next day most of the occupants of number 12 are out. Bill took the day off because of his collapse yesterday so he, Remus and Sirius are eating a late breakfast when a paper plain comes flying into the room. Sirius grabs it out of the air and reads it. "When need to get up stairs." He says in a gruff, worried voice. When they arrive it's to an extremely frustrated Harry who can't seam to get his glamor to hold.

 "What in Merlin's name is going on with this charm?"  Sirius exclaims after another fifteen minutes of trying to get it to hold to no avail. Another half hour past before finally the three men had to admit defeat. Harry sighs, "I suppose I will just have to speak with Dumbledore as I am then."  The others turn looking at the teen. "What do you mean cub?" Remus' voice held worry but Harry stood tall. " I can't let this go Moony. He lied to me, hid things from me, Merlin and Morgan Dad, it's like I was being raised for slotter." Harry's cheeks are flush, his eyes tearful. The three men hug the fifteen year old. They all realize that, to Harry, Dumbledore betrayed his trust and this boy doesn't trust easily. So in the end they all agree to take him to see the Headmaster.

 The castle seams strange with out it's normal inhabitants bustling about. Their footsteps echoing loudly on the stone floor and still they met no one. As they reach their destination Harry begins thinking of the different candies the Headmaster enjoys. After five minutes of guessing the grumpy old gargoyle finally trudges out of the way at acid pops. Harry made a face, "Yuck! How can he eat those." " Never mind that pup, come on." Sirius says and moves up the winding staircase. When they reach the top muffled voices and groans of pain can be hear through the door. The older men drew their wands and pushing Harry behind them, then open the door.

 The scene that met their eyes was terrible. Dumbledore sits ridged in his chair pain on his face as Snape was doing quick concentrated counter cures work on the Headmaster's extended right hand. Remus moves forward at once and ask if he can help, Sirius goes to get pain potions for when they finish, and Bill stands with a now nervous Harry. Many hours later with Remus's help the cures was stopped, but couldn't be removed. Sirius made Albus drink a pain potion and once it had fully taken affect demanded to know what was going on and what the deal with Snape was. The others agree Harry watching his professor grow more agitated by the moment. " That is enough Black the Headmaster needs his rest and you all are here with out  an appointment or warning. Why should he answer any of you questions?" The tone more then anything made Harry act, Snape sounded just like Percy. Like he was dealing with a child that had done something bad. When in fact the adults has simply been angry to get found out to be manipulative wankers. Pulling on everything he had learned to control his temper and act as the Lord he is, Harry squares his should and says in a loud but calm voice. "That is quite enough. I am here to speak to the Headmaster on personal matter and we have given assistance in a dangers and delicate situation. If  Professor Dumbledore would like we can stay in town and speak with him later. However I can't leave with out the assurances that we will indeed talk."  Harry was blushing now and he new it but he held firm even when Snape spoke up. " And what gives you the right to dictate orders here Potter." Remus steps in as he sees his cub is trying to hold in his temper . " That's Lord Potter-Black, Professor Snape and as such Harry can demand this of the Headmaster if he wishes." Snape paled as he looks between Potter and Dumbledore. "Very well, but you all can stay in the castle no need for town, but for now I need rest," the old man says.  They all excited the office with out another word.

 The next day finds them in Dumbledore office once more, drinking a bit of tea before they begin. " Well Headmaster, it has come to our attention that you may have been keeping things from both Harry and us in regards to information concerning his life or rather his future." Remus says all this calmly while holding Sirius's hand. The other man sat tensely beside his partner trying not to rage at everyone in the room. Harry's watching the older men waiting to see if he will have help or not. Bill is sitting with a bemused smile on his face though no one knows why and Severus is tense with his arms crossed. Dumbledore seams at ease if not a bit stiff. "Well I will not deny that I have done so. But it was only to protect him not harm." Harry leaps to his feet staring at Dumbledore, incensed. The old man was taking his choices away again. Repeatedly letting him walk into danger with out all the information. He could have died, he could have gotten others hurt. Cedric did die because this man chose what has best on his own. Harry clenches his fist trying to rain in his temper to no avail. " You new, all this time...and.. AND DIDN'T THINK TO TELL ME. I AM NOT A CHILD. THE PEOPLE AROUND ME DIE BECAUSE I'M KEPT IN THE DARK. CEDRIC MIGHT STILL BE ALIVE, HERMIONE AND RON, HELL MOST OF MY FRIENDS AND CLASS MATES MIGHT HAVE HAD A MORE NORMAL TIME AT SCHOOL. SO MANY THINGS WOULD HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT IF YOU HAD THOUGHT TO JUST OPEN YOUR MOUTH. BUT NO DUMBLEDORE ALWAYS KNOWS BEST. WELL GUESS WHAT YOU DON'T "ALWAYS KNOW WHAT'S BEST." Harry's  voice echos through the room, the force of his magic making the walls shake. But even Snape could tell he was trying to hold on to it, trying not to harm anyone. They all jump when they hear his first sod as Harry finally brakes down. His fathers run to hi side Bill not far behind. The two professors look on in guilt and sorrow. This young boy weeps for the many loses in his life and all the things he can't fix. Dumbledore sighs as tears role down his aged face. He walks around his desk toward the small group, bending down he raps his arms around them all and apologizes over and over.  

  After things have calm down, Harry realizes he may not always like how The Headmaster does things but in a very real way he is family. For him Dumbledore is the crazy grandfather who just love's pulling you into trouble, but always has a reason for it. If he's being honest Harry is grateful to have so many people care about him. Pulling out of the hug and sitting once more Dumbledore explains about the Voldemort prophecy.

  Albus couldn't believe how much young Harry has grown, but he is glad. He's not sure he would have ever been ready to tell the boy of the hardship that awaits him. Now they are all sitting and talking about it and Albus feels more at peace with it all. He still hasn't told him some things but he really doesn't want to add more burdens to already heavily laden  shoulders. Besides Sevres has already promised to take on this particular problem. He sighs as they all talk till finally Remus ask,"So Professor Dumbledore why do you think it has to be Harry that ends him?"  The boy has always been sharp. He thinks with a small chuckle."I believe that Voldemort left a piece of himself behind the night he try to kill young Lord Potter, and that it subsequently latched on to the nearest living thing. That being Harry of course. In doing so gave our young man a connection that would have corrupted many but has not claimed him. I think a small piece of his soul is bound to your scare Harry. I haven't figured out away to safely remove it nor have I come up with a way to destroy Voldemort with out it. I'm so sorry dear boy, I feel as though I have failed you in this regard." The tears role slowly down his face as all the guilt and regrets came back. Not just about Harry but so many times when he thought his choice was the best he could make. Though now looking back on it all there would be so many things he would do differently if he could. Now the boy he had come to care for like his own, looking at him willing to forgive if he only opens up. The old man sighs, And yet there are still things I must keep from him. I hope he can forgive me in the end. Whipping his eyes he looks at them all and smiles.

 Harry sat for what felt like hours listening to his dad and his professor argue like children, while his Father, Headmaster, and surrogate older brother try and calm things down. The problem was half the time they would try drawing the other three into the fight. Harry didn't have to worry about being pulled into the fight mostly because it had a lot to do with him.  That bit kind of tweaked Harry the wrong way. He's sitting right here and they are talking about him like he wasn't there or didn't understand them, like his aunt and uncle used to do. Harry shook himself, Sirius is trying to help and who knows things might change for the better or get a lot worse. Remus seam to know what he was thinks and stood up. " Now really you two this is getting...." He begins but is cut off by Sirius growling, "How do we even know his condition isn't your fault Snivele. We have know idea..." "How dare you," shrieks Professor Snape," I refuse to sit hear and be accused of dark magic when your own godson looks like that!" He says coldly pointing at Harry. This is the moment Dumbledore chooses to shift the conversation. "That is a fair point my boy. You do look rather different, though still like you. Would you mind in lighting this old man as to your situation. I may even be able to help." The teen nods, anything to stop them fighting. So he explains about the blood adoption and how that's seams to have trigger a creature inheritance of some kind but they don't know which one. In his explanation of things he leaves out that stuff at the bank and second prophecy. He's not really feeling up to sharing all of it right now. Then turns to the Headmaster," So what happened to your hand and all that."  Dumbledore laughs and it's a joys sound. " You, my boy, will give this world a turn. Very well then." He pulls out his wand and gives it a small wave, a small box comes to his summons and lands in his good hand. Everyone watches as he opens it up and shows then a chunky old fashioned ring with a cracked black stone in it. On the stone was a strange symbol carved into it's surface. Harry had seen it some where before but couldn't remember where. The boy is pulled from his thoughts when Dumbledore speaks. "This ring was one of the other horcruxes that Voldemort made. It once held a cures but no longer. Now it's just a ring. We can add it to the list of destroyed and work on finding the rest." Dumbledore hands the box to Harry with a smile, " I think you will find this ring belongs to your family Harry or rather it belongs to a small branch of the family you are head of. There for I believe it should go to you." The young man takes it with and odd look on his face but shakes his head and thanks the Headmaster. " Now then my dear boy you are wondering about you blood inheritance, yes. Well if you wish the Bank can perform a blood analysis incantation to tell you the creature and many other impotent things. But if you wish we can also do it here." Harry looks at his dads hungry to know more about what was going on but not sure how much he wants to share. But depending on the creature he may have to tell the Dumbledore anyway so he isn't sure what to do. "Either way is fine but it will get filed with the bank ministry and school regardless. "Remiss says with a sigh." Though not all the information you can learn will be sent to all of these places normally, you are the head of two families so they want to be careful." Harry's mouth runs dry and he suddenly can't speak. If I find out now then the ministry will find out because the information in my records will change. But it will change on my birthday anyways so is it better to be informed or wait it out. He shakes his head, "Alright let do this." Nodding Dumbledore looks to Snape, "If you will give me a hand with this Severus?"  Padfoot jumped in, "Why him? Why not me or Remus?" The Headmaster sighs rubbing his temples. "Because, Sirius, I know Severus has preformed this before and knows what it intails. Can you say the same." Sighing Sirius steps back and let's the potions master get to work.

 The parchment lay on the desk a slight purple shimmer to it . To it's right was a wicked long pin that seems to be made of copper and bone with a black pearl set into the end. The Headmaster directs Harry to pick it up and stab the tip of his ring finger. Harry does as instructed the drops of blood falling on parchment. The parchment shein glitters from purple to green as the blood soaks into the page replaced by thin red letters. The blank sheet fills slowly with every eye on it no one even daring to breathe. At last the parchment stilled and they all move to read it.

Lord Hadrian James Potter-Black                                                                       Son to Lord  James and Lady Lilly Potter                                                          Blood adopted son of Lord Sirius Black and Master Remus Lupin                       Heir to the House of Potter                                                                                     Heir to the House of Peverell                                                                            Heir to the House of Pendragon                                                                          Heir/Head, by blood adoption, of the House of Black                                              4th Prince by blood of the Unseelie Court                                                             Blood heir to the Pendragon Throne by family and soul                                         Soul Bonded to the Heir of the Cornwall line                                                           Blood alliances from the ancient and Noble wizarding families of Britannia, ancient and noble families of the seelie and unseelie courts of Britannia, and finally the ancient and noble families of the knights of the round table.                   By right of fealty those ancient houses without heirs or who have broken their oaths, all properties and  holdings immediately fall back to Then Pendragon heir by the ancient  Blood oaths signed.

  Everyone one in the room sat in stunned silence. For Harry's part he looks like he's going to scream. Fate just hates me. He thinks,banging his head on the desk repeatedly.  What ever power out there that thought fucking with my life was a good idea... Well they can jog off, blood wankers. Harry kept his head down he knew there must be talking going on around him but in that moment he didn't care. Half the stuff on the stupid parchment made no since and the rest just hurt his head. Well my other self if you hadn't hit our head on the desk so many times it wouldn't hurt now.  Harry's head shot up from the desk looking around. You won't find me out there, the voice says calmly. The others are now looking at him with confusion and concern. Now young one just calm down, the older male voice spoke again. You, your..., Harry stumbles over his thoughts trying not to panic. Yes young Hadrian, I'm Arthur your former self. Then the poor over stressed teen then drops into a dead faint.

  Remus sat next to Harry in the hospital wing Sirius next to him. Their boy had passed out hours ago but Poppy says he'll be fine. Sirius himself only fell asleep an hour ago, but Remus just couldn't manage it. Sirius was so worried and none of them knew what to do about that stupid paper. So Bill, with Dumbledore's promission went to the library to find everything he could and bring it up. For Snape's part he told the Headmaster he may have some books that could help and left to retrieve them. Though he's not come back, as far as Remus knew. Poppy comes in to check on Harry and helps move Sirius to an empty bed telling the former professor to get some sleep.

 The next morning Harry still hasn't woken up, leaving the adults to worry. "We need to have as much information for him as we can get. You know what he's like. He'll want to know everything he can." Snape makes an exasperated huffing noise and Sirius glares," What? Do you have something you want to add?" Snape just glairs at him, " At this point I'm not even sure we are talking about the same boy. Potter has always been a lazy no account in my classes and..." Remus cut him off with a growl,"That is because you bully him and any student not in your house Snape and don't even try to denying it. I've seen you at it." Moony stairs daggers at Snape but Bill slams a book on  the table."That is quite enough out of all of you." He says looking at Sirius who was about to jump into the fight. "Harry needs us to be our best and you lot are acting like children. So either you clear the air right now or get out because I've work to do." He then takes his seat and begins writing again. The other look down sheepishly as the Headmaster walks in. "I see that Mr. Weasley's famous temper has shown its self."  Three of the men look up at the chuckling Headmaster as he makes his way to the table.

 Harry felt warm sunlight on his face. The wind sends a cool breeze across his skin as he begins to stir. He sits up slowly the smell of fresh cut grass and summer heat filling his nose. "How are you feeling?" A familiar voice says to his right. Blinking he looks around for the speaker.  He realizes three things very quickly, one he some how got out side, two these aren't the school grounds, and three there is a man sitting next to him. Harry immediately leaps into action moving back and reaching for his wand. Then to his horror he realizes it's not there. "What have you done with my wand ?" He shouts at the man still sitting on the ground. "And where am I ?" The man just chuckles bringing a glare to Harry's face. But now that he's looking at the man he has to admit he looks good. Honey blond hair hanging in loose curls down his back, broad shoulders and well built from what he could tell. Though the clothes were a bit old fashioned, his tunic hung loosely around him but the pants and boots, that seam to be made of dragon hide, are well fitted hugging his hips and legs well. Harry shook him self, Know is not the time, he thought. The man just smiles, " I'm not going to hurt you Hadrian please sit, we need to talk."

 Mean while Bill has finally gotten the others to behave with the help of Dumbledore. At this point they have a good number of books for Harry to ready, but he's not sure what will really be useful. He knows that Harry will need the magical law and history books. No one can really get a good understanding about it from Bins. He has to read the books on the Fey no question there. What Bill is dreading bringing up to the others are the record they will have to get from the Ministry. He knows Fudge will do all he can to not only make it hard but as damning and public as he can. They all know Harry will hate that. Everything does seams to happen to him. Bills sighs rubbing his eyes. At least know  he could put his capacity for obscure knowledge to use. Just as he was about to settle in to take notes a dove patronus come swooping in. " Harry is awake !" It cries before vanishing  they all hurry back to the hospital wing, even Snape.

 Harry sat up feeling dazed, had that really just happened? Well he does feel a lot better then he has in a long while. Even with all the craziness his mind is calm and the creeping doubts are quiet. For the first time in his live everything feels like it's going to really be okay. Then the door swings open with a bang as his Dads and Proffers come rushing in. Madam Pomphrey  comes bustling out of her office in the same a moment to poke and prod her patient. The normalcy of it all make Harry Laugh out loud and the sound is bright and warm. His parents hug him, Dumbledore smiles, Snape huffs, and for a moment everything seams okay.

 Severus Snape sits in his office strumming his fingers on his desk. It wasn't possible was it. Had the boy been faking his lack of understanding, was his attitude towards the Potions Master part of a mask. He shook his head. If someone had asked me even a week ago he would have said no, that the boy was just like his father. All arrogance and bluster. But the boy he had glimpsed, when he was unaware of him, was all together different . Running his hands through his hair he makes his choice. He gets to his feet and makes his way to the hospital wing. Stealing his resolve Severus opens the door quietly the sound of voice reaching his ears. " Do you understand This part Harry?" The Professor stops listening. " No I get that bit Bill but what I'm more concerned about is this. Some of these ingredients we use all the time in class."   He hears a heavey sigh, "There is know way Snape will change the recipe just for me." Severus hears movement then the oldest Weasley boy speaks. "I'm sure The headmaster..." "No!" The potter boy brakes in, " I don't need him fighting battles for me. I'm sure I can  find the right substitutions for them and even if i don't Snape will be happier if I fail.  And anyway as long as I score well on my OWLS it's fine."  Another sigh and more movement tells him someone is about to come around the corner. He doesn't hear the last of what is said but runs in to the Weasley boy out side the hospital wing. They nod as he walks inside and Bill leaves.

Harry sits on the hospital bed surrounded by books notes and crumpled bits of paper. His hair looks like he's run his hand through it many times and he has a quill behind his ear. The boy has ink stains on his fingers, muttering something about having to change how many times to stir his cauldron counter clockwise. The old Potions Master was so forcefully reminded of Lilly in that moment he doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. But he must have made some kind of noise as the boy looks up. The look of shock on his face says more then anything he had not exacted to see Snape. Severus sighs, " Mr. Potter , would you mind closing your mouth. We have things to discuss."

The two sit in a tense silence as the house elf sets up tea and bows out of the room. Taking his cup Severus glances at the boy on the hospital bed next to him. Then much to the older man's surprise he speaks first. " What is it that you wanted to talk about Professor?" Snape puts his cup down, with out taking a sip. "To be frank Mr. Potter I believe you and I need to clear the air and... and hopefully start over. I know that you have been hiding your true nature as I have, but I don't think that would be in your best  interests. I also believe that if even half of what was on that parchment was true then you will need all the help you can get." Harry nods listening to every world. " With the Headmaster's health as it is we can not afford to keep hating each other. So I want to get to know who you are and not who your father was. That beginning said  I will first like to apologies for my behavior."  The teen looks at him in disbelief but nods. " The I'm sorry too, and if we are going to do this then can we use memories. Harder to lye that way." The Professor look taken aback at first but then gives him a cunning smile. " Very well Mr. Potter as you wish." After asking the Headmaster to use the pensive the two spend hours watching and talking about the things they see. Though neither of them show the other everything they do share enough. " Though we can't change our behavior to mush in public...." Harry holds up his hand, " I understand Professor." And with that Harry goes back to the hospital wing leave Snape smiling quietly behind him.

 Bill sits in the only quiet room left in the house as teenagers run around trying to find all their things for school. He chuckles a bit taking a sip of tea.A few days ago if you had told him things would feel this normal again he wouldn't have believed you. Now it is the last day before the young ones all depart for school and he can't help feel both wistful and nervous. The reason for the nerves was obvious, there had been a fight. With all the chaos going on Harry hadn't really kept Ron, Hermione or anyone, but those who had been with him, in the loop. Now with glamour refusing to work, Harry had to tell them. Needless to say it wasn't fun and Bill knew for a fact he left stuff out. Though personally  he thought Harry had been right to do so. Ron would get jealous, Mione would worry about things they couldn't change and his mother was already haveing kittens about what he had sad. But after a couple of days it all got sorted and every one calmed down.

   Harry seams at easy about it all at last  though Bill, more then most, knows how good he is at hiding what is going on in his head. Regardless his sibling and Hermione seam determand to help. He can only hope that all the work Harry is putting in the help of his friends will get him through the year with out to much trouble. But this is Harry and trouble always seam to find him. That is one of the big reasons Bill told him they need to find a Lawyer for him. Harry had agreed so he plans to ask at the Bank if they have any on retainer for clients. If not there are a few wizarding law firms in Britain they can look at. Since Harry is an adult in the eyes of the law they are able to get around a lot of trouble they would have had other wise. He is hopeful they will find someone good enough to help deal with Fudge. Who is as predicted is making things difficult. Right know he is trying to pressure the Profit into righting stories about Lord Potter-Black's mixed blood. So far the bank's reminder to the paper about how much of it Harry owns has kept them at bay. Though it will only work for so long. As soon as Witch Weekly catches wind of it or one of the other rags, the Profit will be able to print what they have. If we have a Lawyer step in to check it before it goes to print we can at least tell more of the truth. He sighs, the records still have to be gotten from the Ministry and the Bank for Harry to go through and half a dozen other things. He's only fifteen, but there is much harder things waiting for him in the future. Bill gets up and heads down stairs to join everyone for dinner on lats time before the school year begins.

 The smell of warm grass and rain fill his nose as he starts to stir. Then the sound of wind through trees and a waterfall sing through the air as sunlight warms his face. Sitting up slowly with a long stretch and a yawn Hadrian finds himself in a clearing deep in the forest. The waterfall and small lake are as blue as the sky and the summer sun feel great on his face. He looks around feeling relaxed for the first time in a long while when he hears foot steps drawing nearer. Suddenly he feels a pair of hands over his eyes and he smiles. "I thought you might not becoming ," he says reaching up to pull the new comer around and into his arms. " I wouldn't miss seeing you." His companion say in a rich alto voice. The two begin laughing together as they sit cuddle on the grass. Hadrian tries to hold on to the features of his companion but they slip away like a fog. "Are you going to tell me who you are this time?" He feels them smile on the skin of his neck. "Only if you are going to tell me the same."  Hadrian sighs, they had figured out weeks ago that what ever magic that is at play here wouldn't let they reveal  who they are. At least id won't right now. "I can think of other things we can do to pass the time." His companion says with a purr. Hadrian flips them stair at the few features the magic has unveiled. The person below him has pale golden hair bleeding into a rich sunset array of colors. Their eyes are like pools of silver and moon light with long lashes like black lace. He feels sure he would drown in them if he looks to long. Then he leans in and captures the ever shifting lips in a siring kiss. The kiss deepens as his partner mouth opens to him. When they at last come up for air they are both laughing breathlessly. " I'm heading back to school in the morning. What about you?" The other nods, "Yes, I will be going back as well. Who knows we might even go to the same one." Hadrian nods smiling at the thought. "It would be nice to finally see you in the waking world."  He hugs them tightly feeling there arms rap around him. "It's time my dear." He shakes his head kissing them again. "I don't want to leave you!" He sighs sadly, " We'll see each other soon but for now fair well." Harry sits up in bed shaking tears threatening to spill from his eyes as weeks of dreams come back to him. Weeks of getting to know the wonderful person he had to leave behind again. Something deep inside him aches with loneliness as he climes out of bed heading to the wash room. The phoenix soul mark moves over his heart trying to comfort him. But he has no time, before long the rest of the house it moving and he makes his way down stairs.

The drive to the station is lively with every one in the back of Remus's station wagon. Bill sat if front while Remus drives and the twins, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and himself were sitting in the expanded back seat. The traffic moves along at a descent pace but it takes almost fifteen minutes to find a parking spot. Now, with trolleys  loaded the group heads in to Kings Cross with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley waiting for them. Making their way through the crowds Harry could swear he felt someone watching him, shrugging it off he goes through the barrier with the others.

 Harry steps out onto the platform and is greeted by the flash of cameras. The nose of the is overwhelming as he realizes that there are reporters everywhere. Once they spot Harry however it's like a feeding frenzy. Questions are shouted at him left and right as they try making their way across to the train. Lupin pulls Harry behind him as one report tries to grab the young lord. "GRRRRRRRR, don't touch my son." Moony's eyes going amber for a moment as he grawls at the man. "This isn't working Dad," Bill says to Mr. Weasley. "We need  to call the Aurors."  Arthur nods sending off a patronus, moving himself to shield Harry and the others. As the adults move Harry and his friends towards the train he is able to pick out some of what the reporters are shouting. "Can you tell us about your new look Lord Potter?"  "Is it true you're the Lord to more then one House?" "Is it true you're claiming the return of he who must not be named?" " What about the reports that you are unstable?" At this last query a loud boom thunders through the platform. Kingsley Shakelbolt a well dress dark skinned wizard looks around ordering the group of six Aurors with him to round up the press. Next to him stands a tan woman with chocolate brown hair and fitted black business robes. Her sharp light brown eyes watching the crowd till the fall on him. Whispering something to Kingsley she walks over to their group. "Hello  Young Lord and greetings from Mythrin and Wilks Magical Law firm. The Bank has informed us that you wish to retain our services as your family has done for generation. I am Ms. Tamrin, and am here as your lawyer, if you like." Harry looks at Remus who nods. Harry turns back to her, "Thank you for coming is there anything you can do here?" He gestures towards the press and the chaos they're causing. She gives a wicked grin, "Oh yes Lord Potter there most certainly is."  

As Harry and the others board the train Auror Shakelbolt and Ms. Tamrin deal with the press. He has never been so glad for the adults in his life. They all hug their families goodbye and watch as other students clime on to the train and for a moment Harry swears he smells warm grass and rain.