#platonic merlin and valen

[miss-anachronism]

I posted something yesterday throwing my hat into the ring of Merlin and Valen relationships, and people seemed to like it! These guys are best buds to me, im glad yall see it too. It inspired me to write a little drabble, so here ya go <3 this is Valen and my (fem) Merlin, so it gets kinda specific at parts lol

…

It’s been a long day.

And as much as Valen wishes it were the easier type of long day: boring and uneventful, where he has to drag himself from task to task; it was quite the opposite. Exhilarating, exhausting, and deadly; now he was sinking into a sofa chair in the Mystical house, nursing a spiked drink and a sprained ankle.

It wasn’t even a mishap- he’d launched the attack perfectly, but that godforsaken golem had grabbed his leg at the last moment and slammed him back down into the ground. Lucius said he was lucky to have avoided a concussion. But what does Lucius know, anyway.

All this to say, the entire ordeal has left him grumpy and secluded. He’s tucked into the library, where the din of the bar can’t touch his slowly receding headache. It’s lovely in here, quiet and serene, fresh air drifting through the large open windows on the south wall. The smell of old books mingles nicely with the outside breeze, stopping just shy of being overwhelming. He would have never thought himself a library person; the one in Holistone was lackluster. But Merlin, as she often did, had flipped his conceptions upside down, and provided Valen one of his favourite spaces in her impressive library.

It’s a little ridiculous to expect privacy and solitude from a house that isn’t your own, especially one housing at least five others, but Valen still finds his every muscle tensing when he hears the library door open and close with a soft click.

He exhales slowly through his teeth, trying not to make his disappointment too obvious. He sends his farewells to his peaceful rest, and a quick prayer that whomever has entered isn’t in a talkative mood. He really doesn’t feel up to playing up the charm.

The soft pattering on the floor and the long exhale that come from behind him, however, chases those fears away. The momentary panic slips from Valen’s body, and he glances to the side, grinning when a green, eerie eye catches his gaze.

Merlin grins back at him, though she looks just as tired as he feels. “Hey, sorry. I know you’re hurt, but it’s winding down out there, and I wanted to do some research before I turn in. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Valen chuckles, “It’s your home.”

“Well, yes, but you’re my guest. And if you want me to shut up and leave you alone, say the word and I’ll be gone, no harm no foul.”

“It’s alright, Merlin,” he confirms, slightly surprised that he doesn’t even need to lie, “your company is appreciated.”

She grins at him and sets her own drink down on the small coffee table, and pulls another chair up. “Thanks, Val. I’ll keep it down, promise.”

She’s true to her word, shuffling through a few eclectically stacked books around the floor of the library before settling with three in hand. She puts the biggest one between them, and opens it up to reveal a collection of beautiful woodcuts, depicting various temples across the globe.

Valen lets out a low whistle and leans in, watching as she flips through a few illustrations, and then spins the book around to show him a full two-page print. It takes him a moment to recognize.

“The Moon Temple?”

Merlin nods, her eyes never leaving the paper. “Back in its heyday. We were talking about it, and Dolly mentioned that I should have an old book of prints in here somewhere. I’m lucky I found it so quickly.”

“How old is this book?”

“Four hundred years, give or take.”

Valen half gasps and half laughs, staring at the book in wonder. He’s shocked Merlin even has the balls to touch the thing, let alone open it.

“I can’t believe you just have ancient scripture lying around.”

“Hey, this is far from ancient,” she teases, glancing up to wrinkle her nose at him.

“You’re right, you’re right. It doesnt hold a candle to the oldest artifact in this room: you.”

Merlin sticks her tongue out at him, and Valen returns in kind, before they both return to the book.

The Moon God had been dead for a thousand years or so before this print was made, so the Temple isn’t exactly in perfect condition. Still, it’s a far cry from the decrepit ruins that it’s in today. Beautiful pillars surrounding the pouring, majestic fountains, each flaw and imperfection dutifully recorded… Valen finds himself being drawn in by the skilled execution of the print itself, scanning over the evenly spaces hatching and intricate detailing in the stonework, the water, the attention to values… it’s a beautiful recreation. Valen can even make out the carvings on the pillars themselves.

There’s a little blurb of writing at the bottom of the page, in a language Valen can’t identify. He reaches out to tap at it, stopping just shy of actually touching the book.

“Can you read this?”

Merlin hums in assent. Instead of flipping the book back around to face herself, she stands and moves over to Valen’s side of the table, kneeling next to his chair.

“It’s not much. ‘The Moon Temple, for the greatness and majesty of Nakalig the many-faced…. Cast a moonstone into the divine spring… a chance for divine lunar enlightenment…’ yeah, we know all this already.”

“It’s still interesting,” Valen contests, watching as Merlins finger drifts over the words. “You’ll have to teach me how to read this.”

Merlin scrunches her nose again. “The language is pretty dead, Val. I think you’ll only find Celestials who speak it fluently, nowadays.”

“So? If it’s spoken by Celestials, I’m sure it’s gorgeous. And mysterious. All the more reason to learn it.”

Merlin scoffs. “If you received a love letter written in the old, dead language, would you actually go on a real life date with the sender?”

“A date? I’d bed them on the spot,” Valen jokes, and Merlin throws her head back and cackles.

“Gross, ugh.” She sneers, giggling. Valen grins.

“Thousands of years old, and you still have the humour of a teenager.”

“Shut up,” she huffs, lightly punching him in the shoulder, only for her eye to immediately widen in concern.

“Ah, shit, that didn’t hurt did it? You’re hurt, I shouldn’t be jostling you around.”

“Merlin, babe, do you really think you can push me around?”

“You underestimate me! I could totally beat you up.”

“Mhmm,” Valen chuckles, taking another sip of his drink. Merlin gives him a wry smile.

“Seriously, though, you okay?”

Valen pauses a moment, taking stock of himself. Yes, his ankle still aches, but the spinning pain in his head has thankfully receded. The exhaustion still runs deep in his bones, however; he thinks if Merlin asked him to stand up, he’s simply collapse.

“I’m alright, all things considered,” he settles on, “but tired. Exhausted.”

“Hey, bright idea here! Maybe you should go to bed!”

“A genius, you are.”

“They don’t call me Merlin for nothin’.”

He chuckles. “It’s nice here. I don’t get much time to relax. And the sun’s only just setting,” he waves a hand towards the window, bathed in pinks and oranges, “let me have an hour, at least.”

“Fine,” Merlin conceded, resting her head on the arm of his chair. Dutifully, Valen proceeds to use her head as an armrest. She huffs in amusement.

They stay like that for a few minutes, Merlin lazily flipping through the book, pausing every time Valen leans closer to inspect a print. Eventually, she complains about her neck, and Valen lets up to allow her a slightly more comfortable position.

“I don’t know how to teach languages,” Merlin says suddenly, startling Valen out of his concentration, “but I think, with Hammie’s help, I could teach you a couple phrases and see where it goes from there?”

Valen blinks in surprise. “You don’t have to do that, Merlin.”

She shrugs. “I want to. Gives me something to do. If you want to, of course.”

Valen pauses, thinks it over, takes another long sip of his drink.

“…sure. We’ll see where it goes.”

Merlin nods, and flips the book closed.

“but if I’m a bullshit student, you can’t be mad at me.”

“I’ll never believe you are,” Merlin sniffs, scooping the book up and standing with a grunt. “Deep down, you’re a nerd like the rest of us, Mr. Playboy Solitaire.”

[rosaharazu]

Merlin Mysteries

This is the most genius title, I swear you guys, Im so proud of it.

Anyways....Magister Merlin.

First off, let's just appreciate the premise given to them.

A powerful, well-respected, legendary mage for as long as history can remember. But the twist is...they're amnesic. I think it's such a high stepping stone in making AFK Journey's MC a standout to other MC's of games alike.

Thanks to that, we aren't even Merlin's actual form, hence being able to customize our character to our liking as Merlin is using disguising spells.

But let's see their past shall we. Second:

So like, have you ever looked at the very tiny text at the bottom whenever you load into the game? There are like, two things about Merlin. I'm sure someone else has pointed these out, but I'll list it anyways. (i think there's three, but I've seen to have forgotten the third one and I ain't checking it out)

Merlin harnessed the leftovers of powers from the War and named it 'magic'.

Merlin was a part of the council in discussing terms of after the Immortal War.

So from this....Merlin may or may not be immortal themselves. Or, if we take a look at the opening sequence of the game, someone pointed out that Merlin may be reincarnated throughout time over and over again. Someone on youtube even thought Merlin could be a hypogean.

If that's the case...it's really tragic.

Merlin is a...wait, lemme check from AFK Arena. WAIT-DIMENSIONALS WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?!

There's also a huge plot in Arena's Merlin, but none of this makes sense to me. Let's ignore that~ O-O

Furthermore, whatever they are...they must be immortal or something like that. And that's harsh.

You know that one storyteller in Holistone? He describes Merlin as, some feared them, some respected, but their journey is a lonely one. That's just...implies that Merlin's missing something.

I'd like it if Merlin's quote is, "I feel like I'm missing something."

I'm in Remnant Peaks, and like, I have two more areas to go. It may or may not have something to do with Merlin, so as of I'm writing this, I have no idea.

Third. Now, what I would like to write is....Merlin's relationships.

I mean, yeah, you can ship them with Valen, Mirael, and so on. But...considering Merlin's possibility of being immortal, it would be sad really.

I feel like Merlin won't engage in romantic relationships because they know so well that her partner won't be able to stay as long as they do. Maybe that's why she has Chippy and Hammie by her side, which I searched up, that familiars live as long as their masters live.

I'd like to think that Merlin chose familiars to love, and while it's only platonically, I think that love is the most special thing to have for Merlin. Because at the very least, Merlin won't have to wake up one day and find that their familiars are gone.

Maybe she's lost a loved one before, and over and over again, and they're traumatized by it. You know, at this point you can just assume I'm talking about my version of Merlin.

Even if Merlin were to engage romantically, they would probably sought for immortals like them, hence Celestials or...Hypogeans, maybe. (for me at least)

(I mean, Wilders and Maulers also probably live for hundreds of years, but they still die- WHY IS THE LIFESPAN AND TIMELINE SO CONFUSING?!)

The idea of Merlin not wanting to lose their partner is kinda engraved in my mind and you can't stop me.

What I'm saying is, Merlin has done so many things over the years. Being recognized as Esperia's greatest mage. One of the professors at Casseedee's Academy. Their stories go all over the lands....

and in return....

Merlin lost something more valuable. Possibly their mortality and memories. I dead set that Merlin may have traded those in order to become the most powerful, and before they know it....they've lost quite a lot.

And as of present day, Merlin forgets again and again, and deep inside them, an immense sense of regret, longing, lost and hopelessness. So they try to focus on the present, and the people around them.

You know, it would be nice if Merlin's amnestic side is shown sometimes, but I guess that's too much work. Oh well. Would be a little interesting, though. Like, maybe more of Chippy and Hammie comforting us. Yes, please. I'd like that.

Man...the game started a few months ago, so Merlin's lore isn't exactly much...why did I even do this...?

Thanks for your time! Have a lovely day!

[miss-anachronism]

Hello! I read your fic about platonic Valen and Merlin and absolutely adored their interactions! You mentioned that requests are open and if they are, might I request more platonic Valen and Merlin?

One thing that stuck out to me about Valen is his devotion (how I view it) in protecting Merlin. Perhaps a situation where he's following through it, gets hurt and Merlin's possible reaction to it? Please and thank you!

YESS i love these sort of prompts!! Esp since it’s implied that Merlin specializes in healing magic. Good shit

This is going to again feature my version of Merlin, I hope that doesnt bother u! I like playing with the idea that Merlin is just like, a god tier support caster

WARNING: there is some gory and brutal healing in this! I love me some body horror and medieval first aid, and this does get that treatment. If you find that uncomfortable, please skip this one!

I would again like to emphasize that this is NOT a romantic pairing. Love to all the merlin/valen shippers out there but this is specifically meant to be viewed as platonic!

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

Merlin hovers slightly off the ground, eye alight a sickly green. A dark smog covers the floor of the battlefield, kicking up whenever Valen ducks, parries, lunges. He can see it clinging onto his enemies, grabbing at their feet like mud and ragging them down, all while he dances atop it like it’s nothing.

This is the steady rhythm they’ve found- Valen and whomever else is on their team storming around the edges of the fray, covering every flank and dicing enemies in a blizzard of blades and steel. And in the eye of their hurricane, Merlin, her magic trickling into every inch of the fight, subtly shifting the tides in their favour, marring the battlefield until their enemies found it unrecognizable. He’s seen well-timed ambushes turned on their head as the very landscape around them bends to Merlin’s will, seen seemingly unbreakable phalanxes crumble as their lines were breached by magic they never even saw. To the untrained eye, Merlin stood in the middle of the fray and simply watched. But in reality, she was rewriting the outcomes of their conflicts in a thousand different and minuscule ways.

Valen’s adversary nearly trips over himself, not expecting the sudden grip the smog has on his ankles. It’s a minuscule stumble, but it opens his left flank, and Valen is lightning fast to stick his blade in. It slides between ribs like a sheath, burying itself in lungs and heart. Valen yanks it out again as the Syndicate goon drops, the fog still grabbing at him as he becomes half-submerged in it.

There’s no time to celebrate the small victory; Valen hears shouts bearing South, and he launches himself in their direction, feeling the wind seem to carry him a bit faster, a bit farther than he should go. He lands just in time to slice an arrow clean out of the air, and two more clank heavily off of his pauldron. Three archers. Thankfully, this seems to be the last of this Syndicate camp, and they seem to be halfway through retreating as it is. A last stand, then.

Valen twirls his blade then slashes it straight in front of him, through air. Though it doesn’t connect with flesh, the archers cry out and stumble back, and he sees a burst of blood from one of them, a gash on their arm where they had tried to block the blow. Wide-eyed, the first archer turns tail and runs. It seems he won’t have to kill them, thankfully. They’re scared enough as it is. He twirls his sword and turns idly to the last two.

One of them is halfway through following his companion, but the last- her face is twisted in some sort of venomous determination. Valen sighs and prepares to duck away, waiting for her to be disarmed before launching his final attacks. She docks an arrow and pulls it back, but at the last second her aim pivots. She swings the tip of the arrow towards Merlin, and fires.

And it’s barely a choice, really.

More like an instinct. Valen’s worked with mages before, and he knows the core tenant- don’t let them get hit. They fall much easier than warriors like him, and he knows that to be true for Merlin, who constantly gets taken out by a scrape on her knee. So Valen springs towards the arrow.

In his defence, he calculates it well. No help if he’s hurt too, no, he swings his shoulder in front so that the arrow will bounce back off the pauldron. But he overshoots. Of course, it was foolish not to take the speed boost he’s been given into consideration. He thinks about it, but too late; and ends up stumbling a few inches too far.

And the arrow sinks into his shoulder, just shy of hitting the armour.

Valen grunts as the metal sinks into flesh and muscle, pain jolting down his entire arm. It isn’t the first time he’s been hurt in the middle of the fray, and he’s since learned to roll with the punches, so he steadies himself and turns back to his adversaries, refusing to let this set him back. The arrow didn’t hit Merlin, after all; a small victory.

Two of the three archers have run. The third, the culprit, seems to realize she’s outnumbered. She sneers at Valen, and he glares right back. She turns on her heel and runs.

Valen takes a step forward to chase after her, but another spike of pain tears at his shoulder. Unconsciously, he drops his sword so he can grab at the wound, the pain enough to bring tears to his eyes. He hears Merlin drop behind him, stumbling a little as she hits the ground.

“Valen, are you- oh, crap.”

“No worries, Magister, I’ve handled worse,” Valen supplies, but in truth the pain seems to be worsening with each passing second. Sweat pools at the back of Valen’s neck. His facade quickly disappears- it’s Merlin, after all, no need to turn up the act in front of her.

“Actually, Merlin, I- ack!” He’s cut off by a sudden jolt of pain as his entire arm seizes up and jerks violently, each muscle straining. Valen grabs his wrist and grits his teeth, trying desperately to keep the limb still as it seizes painfully, again and again. “Valen!” The Magister yelps, grabbing his bicep and elbow to help steady the arm. “Shit, it’s some kind of poison- hang on, I’ll get us to the house!”

He nods and leans on her, putting all his focus on regaining control of his arm. There’s a gust of wind, carrying with it the smell of old books and cinnamon. Valen blinks, and he’s in his guest room in the Mystical House.

“Dolly! Come here, bring vodka!” Merlin calls, face a mask of concentration. Valen’s seen her like this, whenever she has a patient to heal, or corruption to manage, but he’s never been on the receiving end. He finds it as comforting now as he did back then. Merlin knows what she’s doing. She makes that clear.

She sets him on the bed and tears away the fabric around the wound, already blooming red with blood.

“A lot of this is going to hurt.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Valen mutters, shutting his eyes against the waves of nausea assaulting his head. The poison is getting worse by the minute.

The door slams open, and Dolly bustles in. Not only does she have a full unmarked bottle of what must be straight alcohol, shes carrying bandages, a bowl of water, and a few clean rags all on a platter, prepared for this outcome as if it’s happened a hundred times before. It probably has, to be fair.

Dolly sets everything on the desk, uncorks the bottle, and hurries over to him. “For the pain,” she says, a little apologetic, and he grins back at her.

“I’m well used to the procedure,” Valen grabs the neck of the bottle and she guides it towards him and knocks it back until he physically cannot anymore, which is apparently long enough to leave Dolly looking a little impressed as he collapses back down. She grabs one of the rags and puts it in his mouth, which he’s immediately grateful for when she begins to pour the remaining alcohol over the wound, sending a new burning pain down his arm.

Dolly splashes a bit of the liquor on Merlin’s hands, and then stands at the ready. Merlin exhales sharply, puts a hand on Valen’s shoulder, and grips the arrow shaft.

“It isn’t broken,” she mutters, a little relieved, “I can just pull it out in one. Ready?”

She doesn’t wait for a response before yanking it out of the wound. Valen grits his teeth and manages to keep from crying out and Dolly quickly swoops in to cover the wound with another cloth.

Still, the wound aches. Valen’s arm spasms violently again, forcing Dolly to grab and restrain him as his body desperately tries to wrench itself free. Dolly, to her credit, proves to be strong enough to keep him in relative control, especially once Merlin disposes the arrow to go help her.

“Okay, Valen, that was the easy part,” Merlin says, her voice steady as ever. “I need to get the poison out. Good news, it won’t take that long, bad news, it’s gonna fuckin’ hurt. It’ll be bad. So, I’m sorry in advance.”

Valen doesn’t have the time to respond, even if he could. It happens in a split second. Merlin nods, Dolly pulls the bloodstained cloth away from the wound, and-

and Merlin grabs his arm and plunges her thumb straight into the wound.

For what feels like years, white-hot pain is all Valen knows. Someone is screaming- probably him- and someone is holding him down, but it all feels so far away. Everything feels so far away, except for the pain. Burning, consuming, igniting pain. Nothing else is real. It consumes, grabs at him, whites his vision out. All he can see is sheer agony.

and then Merlin pulls away. Blood spurts, Dolly covers the wound again, and Valen gasps in air, choking on it as his mind desperately tries to catch up with his eyes. He catches Merlin stumbling back a little bit, her eye glowing bright green, leaning on the wall for support. She grasps for the gauze on the table and hands it to Dolly, who begins stuffing some into the wound. More jolts of pain, but nothing like before.

Valen spits out the cloth, his good hand trembling as he desperately pulls it away. “What-“ his voice is shaking as the ghosts of the pain wrack his body. “What the fuck?”

The two are silent for a few more beats. Dolly focuses on her task, and Merlin takes deep breaths in, sinking further against the wall. Finally, she speaks up.

“I, ah… you were poisoned. Badly. I had to get it out of your system before it caused irreparable damage.” She presses her bloodstained hands to her temple, leaving a smear of red in her hair. “You’ve seen me cleanse corruption. It’s kind of like that. I needed to make physical contact with the poison in your bloodstream to do it, though. I- I’m sorry.”

Valen takes in another shaky breath and tries to relax his arm as Dolly starts to wipe the wound down with warm water. Sure enough, he’s regained full control of it. He flexes his fingers, and despite the aching pain, everything seems in order.

“Shit,” he mutters as Merlin collapses into an armchair. “Shit. I didn’t know you could do that.”

“I guess I can,” she sighs.

They fall silent once more. The pain is starting to ebb, in part thanks to the alcohol. Valen takes stock of himself. Sure enough, the nausea has all faded. His arm aches, but he has full control of it. His gaze drifts back to the Magister. She’s slumped in the chair, looking just as exhausted as he feels.

“are you alright?” Valen musters, wincing at how dry his throat sounds. Merlin sighs.

“I… the way I can cure posions and corruption… I don’t fully understand how it works. As far as I can grasp, my body absorbs it. Sucks the corruption right into me, and then it gets digested by my magic, in a way. Turned into energy, or power. Like food.” She flicks her gaze up to meet his. “But the process of digestion- it kinda sucks. I’ll be fine, just a little queasy for a few hours. Better than you ending up dead.”

Well, Valen can’t really argue with that.

Dolly begins gently wrapping the wound, lip between her teeth as she works. She’s skilled at this; Valen can half remember a conversation they’d had a week or so back, where Dolly mentioned she’d learned everything she knew from Merlin. The Magister seems to be a collector of red-haired apprentices.

They’re quiet until Dolly finishes up, and begins piling everything back up on her tray to take back downstairs. It’s only when she’s out the door that Valen remembers that he should thank her- profusely thank her, at that- he resolves to do so when he’s well enough to visit her at the tavern.

And so, he and Merlin are left in silence. She looks a little better, manages to find his gaze and keep it, eyes no longer unfocused.

“How are you holding up?” He asks. She laughs.

“I’m fine. I should be asking you that.”

“I mean, it still hurts, obviously. But I’m not poisoned anymore! Good signs all around.”

Merlin nods. “I need to give Dolly more time off. She deserves it.”

Valen hums in agreement.

“How did you get hit? I didn’t see it,” Merlin asks, sounding a little apologetic. Valen clears his throat.

“Well, funny you ask...”

“Valen,” Merlin warns, frowning at him, “please tell me you didn’t do anything dumb.”

“I didn’t!” He protests, “see, one of the archers shot an arrow at you, and I-“

“Oh, Celestials, you did something stupid,” Merlin groans, burying her face in her hands.

“Wh- that’s unfair! You don’t even know what happened yet!”

“You jumped in front of the arrow, didn’t you?”

“…yes.”

In lieu of a response, Merlin lets out a disgruntled, long-suffering noise of frustration.

“In my defence,” Valen begins, gesturing with his good arm, “I didn’t go into it thinking ‘ah, shit, well guess I have to go get gravely injured,’ I only meant for it to hit my armour. I just… miscalculated. Went a little too far.”

Merlin glances up, peering at him through her fingers. “You promise?”

“Yes, I-“ Valen’s exasperated yet jovial tone softens as the extent of the question hits him. She’s staring at him, green eye wide and… and scared. “I promise, Merlin,” he says, voice softer, “why…?”

“There have been people who saw themselves as… lesser than me. As if I were a god, and they would throw themselves in front of any attack for just the chance to protect me. Like dying in a blow meant for me was something holy. Like it was a blessing.” She pulls her hands away from her face, which is now covered in blood- his blood- still wet on her hands from her brutal treatment. “And for the most part, those deaths were unnecessary. Because I’m… well, me. I’m Merlin. Not a lot can hurt me, or kill me. So people are just… throwing their lives away, to protect me, when I don’t need to protection. It’s happened far too many times, Valen. And you-“ she waves her hand at him, scrunching her nose up, “you’re one of those heroic, I’ll- take- the- bullet- for- you types, and I don’t need you jumping in front of any blades for me. You should always prioritize your own safety before mine, because chances are, I can take it.”

Valen hums, letting her words sink in. “I… I understand. You’ve lost a lot of people to this, haven’t you?”

She gives him a tense smile. “I can’t even remember any of them. But I know I have. I still feel the loss, in the absence of the memories.”

He returns her smile, sad as it is. “I promise that I won’t try to die for you or anything stupid like that. Solitaire’s honour.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

“I expect you to. Really, Merlin, when I tried to block that arrow I wasn’t thinking that I should get hurt instead of you. I was thinking that, hey, maybe neither of us will get hurt. And I just overshot it. A fumble, that’s all. No thoughts of heroic self sacrifice up here, I promise. I mean, there’s usually no thoughts up here at all!”

It’s an ill attempt as humour, but Merlin snorts anyway. “hush it, you’re one of the smartest people I know.”

“I’d call bullshit, but you know about five people, so that might actually be true!”

Merlin sticks her tongue out at him. Valen returns in kind.

“ugh. You’re insufferable,” she relents, grinning at him. “Alright, as your Supreme Magister, I prescribe you with bed rest for the rest of the day. The Syndicate can wait. And my headache is gonna get a lot worse in like, ten minutes, so I’m gonna go have Dolly make some tea. For both of us. You aren’t getting out of this.”

“Yes ma’am,” Valen chuckles, collapsing back onto the bed, “and pass along to her my utmost thanks.”

“I’ll tell her you said her bedside manners could use some work.” Merlin jokes, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t you dare. I’ll kill you if you besmirch my reputation in front of that woman.”

“I can’t hear you, I’m too busy thinking up all the slander and lies I’m going to tell!”