#very much should be a lost love like they missed their chance but lancelots a fundamentally broken person and galehauts insane so . | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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A rogue Druid’s “please join us” speech to Merlin triggers a few things:

Gwaine tries to commit regicide, Leon confronts his (understandable) fear of Dragons, and Merlin has a full on mental breakdown.

The knights are left to pick up the pieces and all of them consider following Gwaine’s lead.

ANGSTY ANGSTY

TW: Blood, death, nightmares. Physical and verbal abuse. A very brief implication of potential suicide/self harm.

Everyone notices the sudden changes within the group, it would be hard not to notice.

No one has any clue what happened though.

One day, everything is fine. If they think back, they realise Merlin had seemed a little... nervous? Maybe? But other than that, everything was fine, normal.

But the next day? From then until now, a month later? Everything was different.

Arthur seemed much angrier. He flew off the handle over the smallest mistakes, he worked the knights so hard in training that at least three of them had to go to Gaius for treatment everyday, and he didn’t seem like he planned on letting up any time soon. He snapped at everyone, even Gwen and Gaius, which was unheard of.

Merlin seemed... quieter. The knights, Gwen, and Gaius barely saw him, but when they did, he flinched at even the slightest noise; his eyes constantly darted around, looking for a way to escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

They were worried, but Arthur was so constantly furious that no one dared bring it up with him, and the one time they tried to ask Merlin, he came up with some ridiculous excuse and ran away. They thought they had barely seen him before, but after that they didn’t see him at all for at least four days.

They also noticed how both of their worrying moods seemed ten times worse when they were with each other. Even just being in the same room, made Arthur angrier, and Merlin... they didn’t want to think it but... more scared.

After three weeks of this, they gathered together, and put into place their emergency plan. Leon would speak directly to Arthur, and Lancelot would speak directly to Merlin.

Of all of them, they were the most trusted by each target, and were the most likely to get answers, and the least likely to get a bad reaction if answers were refused.

They were... pretty wrong. Merlin reacted in the same way as he had to the group two and a half weeks ago. Which is odd, because he normally tells Lancelot everything, and not only did he not tell him, he lied and came up with excuses.

Leon was much worse for wear. He showed up a while after Lancelot, pale and miserable. Arthur had just yelled at him a bunch and assigned him extra patrols.

A few days later, they were all still struggling with what to do when Arthur informed them of a quest that was to be undertaken. They were... nervous, to say the least. Going on any sort of dangerous trip with Arthur in this state was bound to go badly, but they could hardly refuse, and they definitely couldn’t bring up the issue again.

So they resigned themselves to it. Gwen wished them luck, and made sure to give Merlin an extra tight hug before they left, and Gaius slipped a few extra medical supplies in each of the knights packs, just in case.

Apparently, patrols of Camelot Knights kept going missing. Whole groups of soldiers, in one very specific area near the border, were just not coming back.

Arthur could hardly justify sending more patrols out, so despite his foul mood, and his desperation to stay away from everyone, he took himself, his five best knights, and his manservant.

Elyan could’ve sworn he heard Arthur mutter something along the lines of “As if I’d leave you here unsupervised.”, to Merlin, the tone far less jesting that it might’ve been a month ago, but he kept it to himself. They were travelling and camping together, there would hardly be an opportunity to share without Arthur and Merlin there.

And like they were all expecting, the trip was hell.

Awkward silences that not even Gwaine could fill, Merlin looking close to tears the whole time, and Arthur constantly looking like he’s considering extreme violence.

Merlin even rides at the back of the group (unheard of), doesn’t complain even once about anything (even more unheard of), and the few times he does speak, he addresses all of them by their titles (down-right panic inducing).

They, of course, realise it had been a trap far too late, and before they even had time to shout and draw their swords, the camp fades around them.

When they wake an indiscernible amount of time later, they have been stripped of armour and weapons, and have been shackled.

They appear to be in a circular, one-room hut, the knights spaced equally and chained to the wall. Their cloaks remain, but any chainmail or armour they had been equipped with was gone, leaving them in the thin clothes they wore underneath, completely unprotected.

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, looking very confused. Once he noticed the knights stirring, he tried to take a step towards them, but frowned when he realised he couldn’t get within a arm’s reach of them.

Once the knights came around fully, they realised that whilst Merlin couldn’t move all that much, they couldn’t speak.

Arthur looks to Merlin with fury written all over his face, and pulls violently on his chains. Merlin flinches back and gasps out:

“This has nothing to do with me, I swear!”

Before the rest of the knights have time to change their expressions to one of confusion, a man walks through the door. Everyone’s gazes turn to him quickly, and they take in his appearance.

He looked like a Druid... but not quite right, like he hadn’t actually been to a camp in a while. He wore neutral colours, browns and greens, but despite his calm demeanour and gentle face, he looked a little crazed.

Where Druids stand calmly and walk softly, this man rushed in and fiddled with his hands, eyes darting around the room at everyone’s faces.

When Merlin goes to demand he introduce himself, the Druid holds a hand up, silencing him (no magic, just a gesture), and begins to speak:

“Who I am, does not matter. But I do know who you are, Emrys. I shall explain it your friends first, so they don’t get too lost.-”

The Druid smiles sadly, and turns to the knights, all of whom (apart from Lancelot) stare on in confusion at the melancholy resignation on the Druid’s face, and the dread on Merlin’s. Still unable to speak, and with very limited movement, they reluctantly resign themselves to listening to whatever speech the villain of the week had come up with.

“-Emrys has been being seen in prophetic visions for centuries. Whilst Uther Pendragon was destined to start the purge, Emrys, or as you know him: Merlin, is destined to stop it. He is said to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past present and future. He can bend the very elements of the world, bring down armies, turn cities to ash with a flick of his wrist. But destiny also foretold of The Once and Future King. Most have accepted that Arthur Pendragon, is said king.-”

Merlin was stiff but panicky during the Druid’s explanation, having realised that for whatever reason, he didn’t have access to his magic right now.

He could feel it buzzing under his skin, but every time he tried to pull it forward, it abandoned him, burrowing deep into his soul and hiding.

Merlin was tense and angry, angry that the chance to tell his friends the truth himself had been taken away, but his statue-like stillness is broken as he frowns and flinches slightly at the thinly veiled disgust in the sorcerer’s voice as he says Arthur’s name.

The Knights look confused, and very much shocked, their gazes flickering between the Druid and Merlin, but he refuses to meet their eyes.

“-Together, Emrys and the Forever King are destined to bring harmony and peace to the world, to restore magic’s place alongside the non magic, to inspire compassion, and stop the unjust genocide that Uther started.-”

Arthur and Leon shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of the late King and his sins, but are more focused on the other shocking revelations. The other knights (again, bar Lancelot, who is staring at Merlin apologetically) seem invested in the story, though they’re clearly confused.

Arthur was made aware of Merlin’s magic a few weeks ago, but despite Merlin’s choice to tell him willingly, he had reacted badly, and in his rage, hadn’t allowed Merlin to explain himself. The other knights were, of course, unaware of this, though they quickly put two and two together.

Despite Merlin’s best efforts, Arthur had stayed in the dark about the whole Emrys-prophecy-destiny thing.

The Druid gives each knight a short assessing gaze, seemingly to make sure they were paying attention.

He turns his attention back to Merlin, who is trying very hard to keep his expression blank (and failing) as he listens:

-”And how long have you waited, my friend, for Arthur to play his part in destiny. Ten years, of having the prophecies shoved down your throat by idealists, being told that you have no choice but to serve a man who would see your head on a spike should he know who you truly are. Ten years in the service of a man who has caused you nothing but pain, given you nothing but nightmares.-”

Merlin flinches and looks away. Every magic user in, or even near Camelot shares the same nightmares, all caused by the Pendragon Reign. There’s no need for a discussion about it, no need for a denial.

“-His father ripped your family apart. He himself stood at the grave of your best friend and told you he was evil, he himself killed the woman you loved-”

Arthur frowns in confusion at this. Merlin had never been in love. But he quickly doubts himself when he hears Merlin gasp quietly, and looks to him to see a tear slip down his cheek.

Fury flashes quickly across Lancelot’s face, obviously knowing the story, but he covers it quickly, and no one is the wiser to the anger slowly growing in his chest at what this so-called Druid was putting his friend through.

The Druid speaks his next words quietly, though still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, as he lifts a soft hand and gently wipes away Merlin’s tear:

“-I know what you see when you close your eyes. I know why you are so exhausted. But do they? Have you told them?-”

The Druid nods his head in the direction of the knights, but doesn’t break eye contact with Merlin, who sniffles slightly before looking to the floor in shame.

“-Of the smoke and flames that you choke on when you sleep? You dream of pyres built just for you, built by the people you care most about. Even when you are awake, every second you have your eyes closed, every time you blink, you are forced to picture your so-called King with a sword at your throat, as if the scene were painted onto the back of your eyelids.-”

His voice had risen as he spoke and he had begun to pace, anger growing at the pain his Lord had gone through. He practically spits the word “King”, like just saying it disgusts him.

Merlin remains quiet, but he has a steady stream of tears down his face as he looks back at the Druid with despair. The knights watch on in anguish as they see the way he is suffering.

Arthur stops feeling angry and confused, and starts to feel a little guilty. Not that he would let it show; he stares on blankly.

Everyone wanted desperately to believe that the Druid was lying, manipulating them, that Merlin would deny it. But he didn’t. And that told them all they needed to know.

The Druid stopped his pacing, coming to a stand still in front of Merlin and cupping one of his cheeks softly with his hand. The knights pretend not to see Merlin lean into it slightly as his tears continue to fall.

The Druid begins again, speaking softly once more:

“-Were those fears unfounded? Were those nightmares irrational? I see the terror in your eyes. I see how petrified of your King you are.-”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath and glances quickly to Arthur, before looking back at the man in front of him.

The King is taken aback, and the knights are furious at the flash of fear on Merlin’s face when his gaze had momentarily met Arthur’s.

“-What did he do, when he found out? When you bared your soul and gave him nothing but honesty, and undeserved apologies. What did he do?-”

Merlin lets out his first audible sob, and the Knights pull at their chains slightly, desperate to comfort their friend. Arthur slumps back, remembering his actions as if they were mere hours ago.

One of Merlin’s hands lifted to cover his mouth as he chokes back a second sob, but the other lifts subconsciously to tug at the scarf around his neck.

The Druid lets a single tear escape his eye as he waves his hand gently, the scarf disappearing with the gentle golden glow of his eyes.

Merlin seems too distraught to notice; and moves both hands to clamp tightly over his mouth as tears stream down his face. His shoulders hunch, but not enough for any of the knights to miss what the Druid had clearly been trying to expose; a thin, barely healed scar along the base of his throat. As if a sword had been pressed there.

The Druid’s eyes lose focus slightly and he frowns as he ghosts a finger over the scar, seemingly asking the next question to himself:

“-Nightmares on the back of your eyelids, or visions of the future, hmm?-”

His eyes refocus, and he cards a hand through Merlin’s hair, trying to calm the man’s heartache as the knights stare on in horror.

Arthur resists the urge to look towards his knights, not wanting to see the disgusted glares he knows they’re sending his way.

The Druid pauses for a moment in his speech, waiting for Merlin to calm slightly before he quietly continued:

“-And what has he done since then? Has he allowed explanation? Has he seen the error of his ways and tried to understand? Or has he called you a liar, and a traitor. Has he called you a monster, whilst demanding that you continue to serve him?-”

Merlin’s breathing grows deeper as he struggles to control his sobs. He lowers his hands to be clenched at his sides, shaking, as the Druid softly places his hands on his shoulders.

His next words are spoken even quieter, though the knights can still hear him and the deadly anger that’s barely concealed in the man’s tone:

“-Has he laid hands on you, and called you a beast, while you cowered in fear, knowing that if you defended yourself he would see himself proven right?-”

Merlin let’s out loud, gasping sobs once more as the Druid’s hands travel softly down, from his shoulders to his wrists. There, he looks down, sorrow on his face as he carefully lifts Merlin’s sleeves, bunching them around his elbows.

The knights decide then and there they are going to protect Merlin no matter what, no matter from whom, as they each see the handprint shaped bruises littering Merlin’s arms.

“-He has hurt you, over and over and over-”

As he speaks, the Druid hovers his hands over the bruises, his eyes glowing softly golden as they heal.

“-And you despair, believing yourself worthless-”

Merlin flinches, and his sobbing grows more intense as his face is taken in soft hands.

“-waiting on a Golden Age that he refuses to bring. He is cruel, and unjust, how many more times must he hurt you? How many more of our people will the Pendragon line slaughter, out of misguided hatred? How much more sleep must you lose? How many more nightmares must you endure? You have stood loyally by his side for a decade, and had to stand and watch as he continued his father’s legacy, forced to believe it was destiny.-”

The Druid says “destiny” as if he hates the taste of the word in his mouth, the bloodshed of the past almost thirty years clearly having made him lose faith in the prophecies.

Merlin’s breathing has calmed slightly, and the knights aren’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened, as the Druid desperately continues, clutching Merlin’s hands in his own:

“-Too many lives have been lost, too much innocent blood spilt. Haven’t you yourself been forced to kill your own people to protect this False King from the consequences of his own actions?-”

The knights think too soon as Merlin’s breathing and sobs grow erratic once more. The manservant almost falls to the floor, his eyes clenched desperately shut, and only the Druids hands on his shoulders keeping him upright:

“-I was young, and naïve once. I too, believed in Arthur Pendragon, I believed in the prophecies, I believed he would a great king and a good man-”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s as he gently says:

“-but he is not. He has failed you, and failed our people.-”

The Druid steps back, but still holds Merlin’s shoulder tightly as he gives him a pleading look.

The knights know what’s coming before it is said, and with the anguish and desperation and grief on their friend’s face? After they learned what their benevolent King had done? Well... they wouldn’t have blamed Merlin for saying yes.

“-I ask you to join me, Emrys. I know it’s difficult, to give up on a man you gave so much of yourself to, but there is too much Uther in him. It’s time, and you know this, to rewrite destiny. Dig your own path, liberate your own people, bring magic and compassion and harmony back to the world yourself.-”

Merlin, though distraught, still looks doubtful, and the knights hold their breath as the Druid continues, becoming more and more furious at their inability to speak.

All of them have tears in their eyes, if not falling already, even Arthur, though he has remained still and blank through the tears.

“-I know the flames you fear, the sword’s edge, the gallows’ drop, the axe’s fall. Do not let our kin continue to fear those things, do not stand by, waiting for the Pendragon tyrant to change, and allowing sacrifices to be made in the mean time.-”

Merlin’s sobbing begins again, and the Druid kisses him softly on the forehead before kneeling to the floor, gripping Merlin’s hands and looking up at him desperately:

"-You are Emrys, Lord of the Druids, and Conduit for all magic of this world. Not some servant that an entitled brat can toss around and treat lesser than the dirt he walks on. You are my King, our King. Not him.-”

He stands again and grips Merlin’s arms tightly, most likely leaving more bruises in place of the ones he had healed.

Merlin doesn’t notice the pain, but shakes his head stutteringly, still crying.

“-Do not let your people lose you to Arthur, as Arthur lost himself to Uther. To give up on him is painful, but the screams of your kin, burning for their gifts, echoing in your skull day and night?-”

The Druid’s hands move up to grip the sides of Merlin’s head, and he shakes him ever so slightly, his tone frantic and pleading:

“-That is worse. That is pain he will never understand, and certainly never care for. Join me, please my Lord I beg you, for our people.”

One of the Druid’s hands slides lower, to softly cup Merlin’s cheek again, but the other drops entirely.

The knights have never resented being magically gagged more than in this moment. They could do nothing but watch on in horror as the man summons a dagger behind his back.

The Druid is clearly waiting on his response, and Merlin is too distraught to notice the consequences of a wrong answer, tears flowing quickly down his face and ugly sobs forcing their way out of his throat.

Arthur watches in terror, knowing that this was his fault, that every shitty, selfish decision he had ever made had to led to this point. And the knights knew it too.

All they can do is pray to every deity they know the name of, that Arthur has done enough damage for Merlin to say yes. And oh, what a terrible thing to pray for.

The Druid softly strokes Merlin’s cheekbone with his thumb as the Warlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looks up, meeting the gaze of the man opposite him before croaking:

“I... I can’t. Arthur is a good man, I have faith that he will-”

Before he can finish his sentence, the dagger is thrust up into his chest, his words stuttering to a stop and his red-rimmed eyes growing wide at the sudden, agonising pain spreading throughout his body.

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights pulling roughly at their chains, but he pays them no mind as blood gurgles up his throat and he frowns, struggling to hear what the Druid was whispering in his ear:

“Then you have forsaken your people, and so I shall forsake you. Traitor.”

With that, Merlin is dropped roughly to the floor, dagger still imbedded in his chest as he lands on his side. Blood spills from both his mouth and the wound, eyes unfocused but heavy as the tears continue to overflow.

The knights are silently screaming, thrashing against their chains as their friend chokes, but Merlin ignores them in favour of smiling gently at the soft feeling of nothing, growing outwards from his chest.

He frowns once more, as though remembering something, and his eyes go glassy as two words escape from his mouth, barely a whisper:

“I’m... sorry...”

An apology to whom, no one knows, but with those last words his body goes completely still, the pool of blood still expanding beneath him, and his eyes unseeingly staring just to the left of The King.

No one in the room can tear their eyes from Merlin’s pale corpse, face now a mess of tears and blood.

The Druid looks down at him with an odd mix of contempt, and genuine sorrow. He had obviously waited long enough that his resentment of Arthur had bled into his feelings for his so-called saviour, but still grieved for what could have been.

The Knights look at him in horror, all understanding that they had never been lucky, they had just had Merlin. He had never asked for thanks, or recognition, or reward. He had kept them all safe, at great expense to himself, and now he was dead.

Lancelot seems the... calmest, though he still cries like the rest of them. He had, in theory, known of the pain Merlin was in, but had he known it was plaguing him to this extent... well perhaps he wouldn’t have been so loyal to Arthur.

Arthur himself stares at Merlin with nothing but terror and agonising grief. He had done this. If he had just let Merlin explain, if he had just given him five minutes, instead of bruises and nightmares and fear, then he would still be alive.

If he hadn’t been so selfish and cruel, perhaps hundreds of people, just like Merlin, just as scared and innocent as Merlin, would also be alive.

Merlin had spent his entire time in Camelot trying to convince Arthur that he wasn’t his father... and Arthur had gone and proven him wrong at every turn. And even then Merlin still had faith, still called him a good man.

The silencing spell still has hold over the knights, so they cry and scream and thrash soundlessly as the Druid finally rips his gaze from the body at his feet.

He steps carefully around Merlin to stand in front of Arthur. The sorrow clears from his face, leaving only contempt and rage left to be directed at the man in front of him. Arthur does not look up, keeping his tear stained face focused on the floor, even as the Druid begins to speak:

“You see what you have done, Arthur Pendragon? You think magic is the thing that corrupts, but it is not. It is you. Emrys was meant to be a saviour, a God, a guiding light to help our people to safety, but you tainted him, reduced him to nothing more than a sad, scared boy, and then reduced him further, to a corpse. My hands are clean of blood Pendragon, but yours?? Oh, yours are drenched in it.”

Arthur slowly lifts his distraught gaze to the Druid, but quickly widens his eyes at what he sees.

Merlin stands behind the Druid, eyes glowing golden, tears once more streaming down his face as he grips the handle of the dagger, still buried in his chest.

The bloodstains grow even larger as he grimaces slightly and pulls it free, before wordlessly forcing it through the Druid’s back.

The man lets out a sudden gasp, and looks down to see just the tip of the blade poking out where his heart should be. He gargles something, words that no one can make out, before Merlin pulls the dagger out again, and his body crumples to the floor.

The knights and Arthur can feel the silencing spell release them, but none of them make even a noise as they stare in shock at their tormented, but very much alive, friend.

Merlin drops the dagger from his hand and it lands with a splash in the mixing puddles of blood, before he himself falls harshly to his knees.

The others finally break out of their stupor, once again pulling towards their friend. Their cries and shouts of his name can be heard by everyone but him as he leans forward, placing his forehead against that of the lifeless Druid.

His cries grow erratic again as he whispers apology after apology, and every heart breaks even more at the sight before them.

They know why he apologises, they know why he grieves, even over a man who had tried to... had succeeded in killing him. The death of yet another of his own kind who was sick of waiting, who was rightfully angry, was not something to be celebrated.

They had thought, at the beginning of this, that they would get through whatever the Druid threw at them, they always did. But this, the brokenness of one of their dearest friends, was not something that looks fixable.

Merlin finally sits up again and he sobs louder, still deaf and blind to those around him. Lancelot has just enough time to yell at the others to cover their eyes, as a gut-wrenching scream escapes the Warlock.

They’re almost blinded, even with their eyes tightly shut and their arms thrown up. The scream is the loudest, and most anguished they’ve ever heard, and the force in which Merlin releases his magic completely eviscerates the hut they had been chained in.

Each of them is thrown violently backwards, and their chains crumble to the floor with the rest of the building as they try to find purchase on the ground. None of them are hurt too badly, and they’re grateful for the fact that even in this state, Merlin’s magic seems incapable of really causing them any damage.

The scream ends, and the knights look up to see Merlin sat in the middle of the crater he had created, staring blankly into the middle distance. Tears still stream down his face, but he doesn’t move and he makes no sound, just kneels there with his blood soaked hands on his lap, palms towards the sky.

It takes a few moments for the knights to regain their senses, but once they do, all hell breaks loose.

Gwaine immediately gets to his feet and makes a rush towards Arthur, fully intending on throttling him, screaming obscenities as he went, but Percival and Elyan jump forward, grabbing an arm each and dragging him away as he curses the King and the Sky and the Gods.

As much as Percival and Elyan were not impartial to killing Arthur right now, Merlin was the priority, and as much as he may have deserved it, Merlin would never forgive them if they hurt the King.

Arthur seems to be unaware of the attempt on his life made by one of his most trusted knights, and just stares blankly at an equally blank Merlin.

Lancelot and Leon make a bee-line for the Warlock, but stop just short of touching him, not knowing how he would react.

Leon nods gently at Lancelot, clearly having picked up that this knight had already known at least part of the story. Lancelot returns his nod, before moving forward slowly. The body of the Druid lays untouched at Merlin’s knees, and the knight removes his cloak, laying it over him, before reaching a slow hand towards Merlin’s shoulder.

He finally makes contact after a little hesitation, whispering his name as gently and as comfortingly as he is able with tears still leaking from his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t react at all to Lancelot’s touch, not even when he takes his bloody hand, or shakes his shoulder slightly; just sits and stares and cries.

Leon gulps before reaching forward himself. He grabs the dagger from besides Merlin and tosses it behind him (he didn’t like to think about that action too much. He has no idea what state his friend is in right now, best to not have any sharp instruments within his reach when he came to.) before lifting his hand to wipe away the man’s tears.

Arthur stares upon all of this in horror from his position sprawled on the floor a few metres away.

Elyan and Percival have just about managed to calm Gwaine, and they begin making their way to Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin, but before they get even halfway there, Arthur finally speaks.

His voice breaks, and is barely audible, but everyone hears him nonetheless as he murmurs:

“I did this...”

Gwaine makes another run at him, regaining his anger, and Percival and Elyan just about manage to grab him before he commits regicide.

Lancelot and Leon look up at him sharply, but when Lancelot lowers his gaze and continues to try and rouse Merlin, Leon holds the King’s gaze, and says strongly:

“Yes. Yes you did, My Lord.”

Arthur’s face crumbles even more, and Leon glares at him with venom for a few more seconds, before giving Lancelot a soft pat on the back, and walking towards the other three.

He mumbles a few harsh things that only Gwaine can hear, who responds at first with more anger, but then resignation. The First Knight gives the man a pat on the back and nods knowingly at Elyan and Percival. No one, not even Gwaine, pretends to miss the meaning of “be ready to catch him again” in the gesture.

Arthur stays in his position on the floor as the four of them walk softly towards Merlin and Lancelot, but before they get there, everyone’s gazes are drawn to the shadow in the sky, getting closer and closer.

It moves with an alarming place, and their anger at Arthur is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles up and screams:

“DRAGON!!”

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Arthur rush forward to stand between the beast and the other three. They have no armour or weapons, but like hell were they just going to let it get to them.

Lancelot looks up to see the white, horse sized beast land heavily in front of The King, his eyes widen and he jumps up, rushing forward to push between the others.

Leon moves to hold a still unresponsive Merlin behind his back protectively, but frowns in confusion when Lancelot yells at Arthur (who had been about to run at the beast):

“NO! No don’t hurt her! She’s Merlin’s, don’t hurt her!”

Everyone looks at him in confusion and fear as he slowly approaches the Dragon, she had been growling lowly at first, but seemed to perk up when she saw Lancelot.

Lancelot gives her a small smile, and holds his hand out, allowing her to come to him, before quietly saying:

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, Aithusa. Merlin is over here.”

He turns back towards the others, and calmly, but forcefully says:

“Move. She needs to see him.”

Gwaine nods after a moment, trusting Lancelot, and moves out of the way. Arthur goes to argue, but Elyan and Percival roughly shove him to the side, clearing a path to Merlin and Leon for Lancelot and the new, slightly terrifying, arrival.

Leon looks up fearfully, still in front of Merlin protectively. He stares at the Dragon for a few moments, breathing deeply, before looking up at Lancelot. Lancelot gives him a weak smile, and a nod before saying quietly:

“He’s a Dragon-Lord. She can help him, it’s ok.”

Leon gulps, before nodding, and stepping out of the way. He doesn’t move too far, obviously still affected by his last encounter with a Dragon, and watches with unconcealed suspicion as Aithusa prances around Lancelot at his nod.

The others crowd closer as well, looking on in confusion, awe, suspicion, as Aithusa slowly approaches Merlin.

She lays down at his side, gently pressing her head onto Merlin’s hands, still in his lap. Her mouth opens and Leon gasps as she blows a gentle mist up into his face. Merlin’s back straightens and the knights can see his eyes come back into focus as he blinks.

They all stare with bated breath as he gulps, and begins to notice his surroundings; looking in fear at the crater around him.

Merlin is broken from his growing panic as Aithusa chirps softly from his lap, and his head whips down, only now noticing her.

The knights let out a collective breath as he smiles, very slightly and very briefly, but still; after what they had just seen him go through they would take anything. He leans his head down, and wraps his arms around the creature. She chirps once again, louder this time, as she uses her tail to push away the forgotten Druid’s corpse.

She curls her body around Merlin protectively, and he collapses even further into the semi-embrace she’s giving him. The knights smile slightly, relieved that Merlin seems responsive, and safe, before they take slow steps towards the two of them.

She whips her head up quickly and growls at them, digging her front claws into the ground. They take in sudden breaths and stop moving, wary, but she stops growling when she looks to Lancelot.

The others stare on in shock and confusion as she tilts her head slightly, and Lancelot nods as he quietly says:

“They’re friends, it’s ok.”

The creature seems to nod, and the others follow behind Lancelot as he begins moving towards Merlin again.

He crouches down, and gives Aithusa a well-received scratch on the chin, before he gently places a hand between Merlin’s shoulder-blades.

Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and finally Leon follow suit, sitting carefully next to the Dragon, but unlike Lancelot, they don’t touch her, or Merlin. She may seem safe and loving and on their side, but she was still a Dragon.

Arthur moves a little slower, not sure if he’s welcome (he’s not) but when he gets within five feet of the group huddled on the floor, Aithusa lifts her head and growls again.

Elyan and Percival are shocked at the sudden movement, but Gwaine smirks, and Leon nods his head approvingly (though he’s still understandably... nervous). Lancelot looks back at a shocked and still tear-stricken Arthur, and speaks. His voice is quiet, but his tone is vicious:

“They have a mental link; she sees what he sees. It might be best, Your Majesty, for you to stay away.”

He doesn’t bother to watch Arthur’s reaction; he turns back and begins carding a soft hand through Merlin’s hair. He flinches only slightly before relaxing under the soft ministrations, and Aithusa gives Lancelot an affectionate lick on the arm.

The other knights do see the way that Arthur flinches, before he gives a shaky nod and takes a few steps back. He goes to say something, but the tears in his eyes overflow, and he turns to walk away.

Gwaine’s smirk grows slightly before he drops it entirely and turns back to the others, no longer caring what Arthur got up to. He is the first of the knights, other than Lancelot, to be brave enough to reach a hand forward and stroke Aithusa gently.

Elyan and Percival hesitatingly follow his lead, and Aithusa chirps happily at the attention. Leon’s gaze follows Arthur as he walks towards the horses.

They were far away, well out of the way of Merlin’s blast, but even with the distance Leon could see they were shaken. Thankfully they had been tied to the trees, otherwise he’s certain they would have bolted.

Leon finds it only slightly surprising that he feels no sympathy for the King. There’s only so much you can forgive a man for. When Arthur finally reaches the horses and begins untacking them, he looks away, back to Aithusa and Merlin.

Everyone can tell that Camelot’s First Knight is still rather shaken at the presence of the Dragon, but when Merlin looks up slightly to see him still sat there, unwilling to leave him, his heart swells a little.

Leon meets his gaze and gulps, but returns Merlin’s shaky smile.

The other knights smile as well, glad that Merlin was feeling at least a little better, and Percival speaks quietly, not wanting to spook him (or the Dragon):

“Hey, there’s our lucky charm.”

The other knights give him questioning looks but Merlin just chuckles slightly, before sitting up properly, and focusing his attention on running his fingers over Aithusa’s scales, picking out grass and mud.

Percival looks indignant before replying, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:

“What? You honestly thought that tree branches only fell if there was a fight happening, and then only fell on the enemies?? The rock-falls? The fires even when it was pouring with rain?? The miraculous solutions to end-of-the-world type problems?? Come on, guys.”

The others look taken aback at that, but Lancelot just smiles knowingly. They all look to Merlin, who has managed to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve, and he just shrugs slightly.

The rest of them, bar Leon, let out small huffs of laughter, and continue to stroke Aithusa, knowing that Merlin almost certainly isn’t ready for an actual conversation yet.

Merlin looks at Leon’s pale form assessingly, before a look of realisation crosses his face. The knight is tense, and staring at Aithusa’s sharp teeth with worry, but his gaze is quickly drawn to Merlin when he reaches a shaky hand towards him.

Merlin gives him an understanding smile, and crooks his fingers, encouraging the curly-haired knight to take his hand. Leon does so, and his breath hitches as Merlin lowers their intertwined hand to rest on the top of Aithusa’s head.

Leon lets out a slow breath as he feels Elyan’s supportive hand on his back, but relaxes fully when he sees the sparkle in Merlin’s eyes. Anything to make their Warlock happy in this moment. And forever, probably.

Gwaine looks at Leon out of the corner of his eye, and says lowly:

“I’m fairly certain I’m going to try and kill him if I look at him again, so what’s the King up to?”

Merlin tenses slightly, but Leon squeezes his hand and he relaxes again. Lancelot raises and eyebrow and before Leon can reply, he says:

“What, no princess?”

Gwaine narrows his eyes before gruffly saying:

“Princess was an affectionate nickname, and I’m not feeling all that affectionate towards him right now.”

The others nod knowingly, turning their attention back to Merlin and Aithusa. Leon leaves his hand in Merlin’s, but looks at Gwaine before saying lowly:

“He went to deal with the horses. Now we know we no longer need a quick get-away, they need untacking and feeding and watering. They were pretty spooked by... they were pretty spooked.”

Leon looks back at Merlin when his hand gets squeezed, to see him frowning slightly. Leon catches his eye and gives him a small smile, but Merlin just gets teary-eyed again, before sniffing and muttering:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to I just... I’m sorry.”

Only a single tear has time to fall before Lancelot has his hand on Merlin’s shoulder again (comfortingly), and Elyan has his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder (forcefully). Leon shakes his head softly, and responds in a gentle voice:

“You don’t have anything to apologise for Merlin, we are the ones who should be sorry, for not being able to protect you.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and he goes to retort, but Gwaine beats him to it, obviously trying to keep the anger out of his voice:

“From the so-called Druid and from him. We should have done better.”

Leon can feel Merlin’s hand begin to shake, so he squeezes it once more as Merlin shakes his head and speaks, his voice sounding stronger already:

“It’s not his fault. He was just shaken and scared and I should have-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw, struggling to keep control of his rage, but Elyan grips his shoulder tighter in warning, and replies in his stead, interrupting Merlin:

“There’s no excuse Merlin. All of us have been attacked by magic, but equally, all of us have been attacked by swords. I mean look at Leon, giving Dragons a second chance after what happened. I would perhaps understand brief anger, but there is no way to justify laying his hands on you in such a way that leaves bruises, and certainly no justification for putting a blade to your throat.”

Merlin frowns, and looks like he wants to argue, but once again, a knight beats him to it, Lancelot this time:

“No, Merls. We know how much he means to you. But what he did was wrong, there’s no rationalisation. We all know that you’ve already forgiven him, and that’s why we can’t yet. Probably not for a while.”

Merlin sighs, looking pained, and Leon uses his other hand to tilt his chin up:

“Not to say that we won’t ever forgive him. But someone has to be angry at him for what he’s done, and Lord knows you aren’t gonna do it. Consider us your stand-ins.”

Merlin smiles slightly, and Leon considers that a win, returning the smile and nodding slightly to himself, before looking back down at the Dragon, now seemingly asleep, and purring, on Merlin’s lap.

Elyan releases the death grip on Gwaine’s shoulder, when the now much calmer knight, with a smile on his face, says:

“So... you have a Dragon??”

Merlin chuckles fondly, before looking to him and saying quietly:

“Yeah. Her name is Aithusa. I’m surprised she came alone, Kilgharrah usually doesn’t like it when she runs off.”

Lancelot winces slightly as the other knights look shocked, before Percival says:

“Kil-what-now? There’s another one??”

Merlin grimaces slightly, before looking to Leon worriedly and tightening the grip on his hand:

“Uhh... yeah. Kilgharrah is the name of the Dragon that... attacked Camelot a few years ago.-”

Leon straightens his back and gulps, but doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s, nodding at him to continue:

“-I didn’t have control over him until right at the end. I told him to leave and never come back, unless I called him-”

Lancelot makes a noise of realisation as he nods, and interrupts Merlin:

“That’s probably why Aithusa came alone. You didn’t call for her, and technically we’re still within Camelot’s borders. He couldn’t come even if he wanted to. Poor sod is probably clomping around at the edge of the border freaking out.”

Merlin looks to Lancelot and nods, satisfied to feel Leon relax a bit, before looking back to the First Knight apologetically:

“-He does feel really bad at that. He just wanted to get back at Uther for the whole... genocide thing I guess. But that’s no excuse. I just didn’t want to be the one to be responsible for killing the last Dragon, even if Kilgharrah personally might’ve deserved it at the time. That was all before Aithusa came along.”

Everyone nods in understanding, before focussing their attention back on Aithusa. She really was like a giant puppy, even if they had to be wary to avoid her claws as she twitched in her sleep.

Merlin sighs, looking forlorn once again as he realises how exhausted he is, knowing that they’re going to have to get up and make camp at some point.

He can cope with an awkward, tense silence between him and Arthur easily enough, that’s what the last few weeks had consisted of. But an awkward and tense silence between everyone? Elyan and Percival inwardly fuming? Gwaine outwardly fuming? Leon and Lancelot being all protective? He’s not sure he can deal with that.

At Merlin’s sigh, Lancelot tilts his head to catch his eye. His brow creases as he says softly:

“What is it, Merls?”

Merlin looks up, still squeezing Leon’s hand, before quietly replying:

“Nothing, I’m just tired. We have to re-make camp at some point and I’m not sure if I can deal with everyone being so...”

He waves his free hand around loosely, and Lancelot huffs out a laugh, before kicking Gwaine, getting everyone’s attention:

“We have to go make camp. But Merlin is exhausted, and doesn’t want to deal with any of this shit tonight, so we’re all going to have to play nice for the time being.”

Gwaine growls, and quickly retorts:

“Like hell am I gonna treat him with-”

Lancelot kicks him again, harder this time, and Elyan replaces the harsh hand on his shoulder before forcefully saying:

“Right now, it doesn’t matter what Arthur deserves. Merlin needs peace and quiet, and that’s what we’re going to give him.”

Gwaine grumbles, but begrudgingly nods, and Merlin gives him a grateful smile.

The knights all stand up, and Merlin shakes Aithusa awake, giving a small chuckle when she stretches like a cat.

Once she takes her weight off of his lap, Merlin follows the knights to stand, almost falling over at the weakness in his legs. Leon and Lancelot catch an arm each, steadying him as he shuts his eyes tightly, willing the dizziness away.

He feels a hand wipe the hair from his forehead, and opens his eyes slowly to see Percival checking him over with an assessing gaze:

“I’m fine, just tired, a little dizzy.”

Lancelot nods in understanding, humming slightly:

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you haven’t done anything this big in a while, and I doubt you’ve slept well in the last few weeks.”

Merlin gives him a sheepish look as he shakes his head, but it’s Elyan’s questioning gaze that Lancelot responds to:

“I found out by accident when I first met him. Our Warlock isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”

He says it with a small smirk as he looks back down to Merlin, who’s looking indignant:

“Hey! I managed to keep everyone else from finding out.”

Gwaine looks guilty as he raises his arm quietly:

“Actually uh... I knew. I mean not about the whole Emrys, prophecy thing. But the magic stuff, yeah.”

Merlin looks at him, shocked. The other knights share his expression for just a moment before they laugh at the look on Merlin’s face:

“How?!”

Gwaine puts his arm down and laughs again:

“Mate... we met in the middle of a tavern fight, in which shit started literally flying about the moment you joined in.-”

He shrugged, before casually continuing:

“-I figured you would tell me when you wanted to. Until then, it wasn’t my secret to know. You also have me to thank for backing you up every time The Prick asked if I saw you at the tavern.”

Merlin laughed and nodded his thanks, before looking over to where said Prick was setting up camp, a few metres beyond the edge of the crater.

His face fell slightly and the others follow his gaze, tensing slightly in anger when they saw what he was looking at. Merlin takes his arms from Leon and Lancelot, finally feeling steady on his feet, before quietly saying:

“Come on, we might as well get this over with. I’m starving, and tired, and Aithusa will get bored if we don’t start entertaining her.”

Everyone turns around to see Aithusa (now she was sure that her Lord was ok), prancing about in the crater; chasing birds and digging holes.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and everyone else chuckles slightly. Gwaine pushes Lancelot out of the way and takes Merlin’s hand, beginning to walk determinedly towards camp. Everyone catches up quickly, Leon taking Merlin’s other hand when the man had reached out to grab his cape.

Gwaine looks down at Merlin, seeing how nervous he is, and says:

“So. How long until she’s big enough to be ridden? I want you to take me flying, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckles, and looks back to see Aithusa happily trailing them:

“Not for a while. Dragons grow slow, so it’ll be another few years at least. Plus she’s got some issues with bone growth that we’re still trying to fix. She’ll be fine in the long run, but her development is taking a lot longer than normal. She still can’t speak.”

Everyone stops at that, and Merlin’s arms get yanked back when he continued walking. He turns to see Leon giving him an incredulous look:

“Dragons can speak?!”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, before laughing and tugging them forwards again:

“Yeah. I forget that Uther basically erased all knowledge on Dragons, but they’re just as intelligent as we are. Kilgharrah would like to think that they’re more intelligent, but he’s always been a cryptic, egotistical bastard.-”

The others follow his pace and nod, but the mood darkens as they almost reach the camp. Merlin continues faintly, but quickly:

“I’ll tell you everything I know when... when we get back.”

Leon squeezes his hand, knowing that he was about to say “if”, assuring him that “when” is the right word.

Arthur looks up at the group and gulps from his place next to the fire. He straightens up, the anxiety showing clearly on his face, but before anyone can say anything, Aithusa jumps in between him.

He falls back at the sudden movement and she begins to growl; he widens his eyes as she stalks slowly towards him.

Gwaine smirks again, the others managing to keep their faces blank, but Merlin looks shocked, before he jumps forward and puts a hand on the Dragon’s back:

“Aithusa no. He’s a... friend. It’s ok, he’s-”

Arthur jumps to his feet and interrupts him:

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll... go... sit over there.”

He gestures behind him, and walks quickly away from the fire, sitting just within the fire’s light, the evening dimming around them.

Aithusa tilts her head, snaps her jaws at him once more before completely changing disposition. She begins bouncing around the fire, chirping happily and playfully trying to catch floating embers in her claws.

Merlin smiles slightly and the other knights (bar Gwaine, who is glaring very pointedly at Arthur) chuckle at her antics, before they all sit in a semi circle on the opposite side of the fire to Arthur, Merlin in the middle.

The Warlock is once again wedged protectively between Leon and Gwaine, and he fiddles softly with Leon’s cape in his lap as he stares fondly at Aithusa.

Elyan moves to the packs, unloading food and water and cooking pots. Merlin gets up to help, but Gwaine pulls him back down by the hand and holds on firmly as he says:

“You’ve been through enough. We can put up with Elyan’s shitty cooking for a couple nights.”

Merlin tries to pull away with a “But I can-” but Leon grabs his other hand, holding him down and interrupting:

“Absolutely not. You said yourself that you’re tired. If Elyan needs help, he can ask one of us.”

Merlin huffs sulkily and Leon laughs, stroking the back of his hand protectively.

Leon had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and whilst they had virtually nothing to do with each other the first few years, they were still friendly acquaintances, even then. Leon knew full well that it was Merlin who would have a hot meal left in his room after a late patrol, and Merlin always appreciated how Leon kept as many weapons in the armoury in as good nick as possible, so Merlin didn’t have to deal with it.

Besides, even before they knew each other’s names, Leon always found Merlin’s reactions to Arthur’s stupidity funny. He could hardly say it out loud, being the Perfect Knight and all, but he always thought it was a good thing that Arthur had someone at his side keeping him humble, and calling him out in ways no one else would.

Of course they had gotten much closer over the years, as did all of the knights, thanks to Merlin. Currently, Leon was feeling just a tinge of regret at being so grateful for Merlin’s presence at Arthur’s side; he had never really thought about how difficult being that man’s babysitter would be, especially now he knew Merlin had magic. And some sort of destiny.

Time passes fairly quickly whilst Elyan cooks, the others taking to heart what Lancelot had said and trying to keep a quiet, but easy conversation going.

They ask Merlin various questions about Aithusa, Kilgharrah, the Druids, the weird name that he had been called. He answered them all easily enough, but they notice the way he hesitates when they ask about his magic specifically or the prophecies, so they steer clear of those topics.

They’ll definitely want to know the whole story eventually, and they’re practically buzzing with desperation to ask Merlin to show them something magical, but they know that now is not the time.

Dinner is finally served, and despite Gwaine’s statement, it wasn’t actually that bad. Mainly because every time Elyan went to add something to the pot, he would look back desperately at Merlin, and took into account the shakes and nods of his head with a grateful smile.

He did struggle to cover the scowl on his face when he delivered Arthur’s bowl to him, replying to The King’s quiet “thank you, Elyan” with an even quieter “don’t mention it” .

Dinner was eaten quickly and in silence. They hadn’t been unconscious for long, and hour or two at most, but they had all worked up an understandable appetite, Merlin especially. He would never ask for seconds, but knowing that, Elyan gave him an extra big serving without a word.

They entertained themselves after dinner by throwing the last scraps of meat to Aithusa, watching her jump and flip and fly about the camp. Merlin had objected at first, but gave in when he saw the small grin on Leon’s face, and heard the way the others were laughing. The City was only a few days ride away, they could always hunt on the way back.

It didn’t take long for her to tire out and curl up at Merlin’s feet to sleep. Like Merlin had mentioned, Aithusa was developing slowly, and she normally couldn’t fly very far; it must’ve taken a huge amount of energy and effort for her to get all the way here. But like the Knights, she was very protective, and there was no way she could not check on her Lord, after she and Kilgharrah had felt the anguish he was in.

As Kilgharrah once again crosses Merlin’s mind, he sighs, and makes mental note to call him in the morning, when he had more energy.

Merlin is distracted from his thoughts when the camp goes silent all of a sudden, and Gwaine reaches over to squeeze his hand. He looks up in worry, to see that Arthur had stood, and walked a little closer, though he made sure to stay the other side of the fire.

Merlin tenses slightly. He tries not to let it show, but he can knows that he failed when he feels Leon’s hand firmly in the middle of his back. Hidden from the others, but a silent reassurance.

Arthur gulps, obviously nervous, but he meets Merlin’s gaze, flinching at the slight fear in his eyes:

“Merlin, I know nothing I say will-”

He’s interrupted by Gwaine growling and standing suddenly, stepping in front of Merlin protectively, but it’s Lancelot’s harsh words that cut him off fully:

“Not tonight, Arthur. We’re all tired and angry so just... not tonight.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, and blinks away tears before nodding:

“Yes, I... I understand.”

With that, he sniffles slightly before taking a step back. He looks to the floor as he mumbles something about checking the perimeter, before slowly walking away from the camp, into the night.

Merlin lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and relaxes slightly as Leon runs his hand over his back. Gwaine stares after Arthur for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not to follow him (and presumably, kick his ass). Merlin reaching up to take his hand and pull him back down makes his mind up, and he settles back into his seat, Merlin’s small hand clasped between his two larger ones.

Percival speaking up breaks the tense silence:

“It’s late and Lance is right, we’re all tired. If we want to make quick work of the journey home, and have time to hunt, then we should get some sleep.”

Murmurs of agreement float up around the group, and Gwaine, voice still tense and angry, says:

“I’ll take first-”

But he’s quickly interrupted by Elyan, softly laughing:

“Absolutely not, Gwaine. If you’re left alone we’ll all wake to find the King dead in the morning.”

Gwaine raises a challenging eyebrow, not denying anything, and Elyan huffs, Percival muttering:

“Fine. But I’m taking it with you so you don’t get a chance to smother him.”

Gwaine gives a sarcastic looking smile, before ruffling Merlin’s hair fondly and walking towards the fire. He adds another log, grabs his bedroll, and settles down against a tree, Percival sitting at his side.

Everyone else gathers their rolls, and whilst normally they spread out, they all seem rather desperate to stay as close to Merlin as possible.

Normally he would complain, they all snore, and Merlin is definitely expecting nightmares tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to send them away, and to be perfectly honest, he's certain that they would just move back the moment he closed his eyes anyway.

The Warlock finds himself tucked under Lancelot’s arm, with Leon a respectful distance away on his other side, though still within arm’s reach. Elyan settles somewhere below his feet, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin finds himself fully relaxed.

Aithusa sleepily moves from her spot by Merlin’s feet, to curl up with Gwaine and Percival, and Merlin smiles at the thought that she not only trusts his friends in general, but trusts them enough to leave Merlin in their care. Dragons are protective and possessive creatures, and that trust speaks volumes.

Merlin is still a little miserable, and he almost resents himself for still being scared of Arthur despite his obvious regret, but... with all that happened... well. You can’t really blame him.

He’s got a gaggle of very protective knights around him, one of which he can vaguely hear trying to persuade another to commit regicide when no one was looking.

He has time to huff out a small laugh as Lancelot pulls him closer, before he drifts off; much quicker than he thought he would. He was comforted by the warmth behind him, the presence at his feet, the guardians watching over him, and the hand reaching towards him in the dark, just about close enough to lay fingers over Merlin’s heartbeat.

No nightmares plague him that night, and he doesn’t even wake to the warning growls sent Arthur’s way when he eventually returned to camp.

The next few days, hell, the next few months would probably be difficult, but he finds himself not as anxious now he knows he won’t have to face it alone.

THE END

I don’t think I’ll write a part two to this, but if someone wants to extend it, feel free, same as normal: credit and tag me :)

I’ve had the whole speech written out in full in my phone notes for like two months, but only recently got round to actually turning it into anything. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I wanted to write something hella angsty so....

I’m fairly certain whatever I write next will be the dead opposite of this (FLUFF fluff) but honestly who knows.

Let me know if there’s anything specific you want my thoughts on :)

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ad1thi · 4 years

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underrated stevetony fics rec list (P1)

i feel like a lot of really good stevetony fics get swept under the rug because this is such a big fandom and sometimes people miss out on quality content?? so this is a rec list of some of the stevetony fics i feel like everybody should have read/ be reading

Edit (31.12.2020): this got very long (i had almost 50 fics on my list, so ive decided to split this list into two parts. part 2 will be out soon!!)

Edit (20.02.2021): part 2 is out now!!

picture me in the trees: @ifmywishescametrue

Tony and Steve were childhood friends that almost became more, but Tony moved and they lost their chance. Thirteen years later, a chance meeting brings Tony back into Steve's life.

Free: @iwanttopizzamanyou

"Steve reads, and the words dance in front of his eyes, because while this used to be his dream, what he wanted, all he can think about is how this Hell will soon become his full time life."

Steve discovers fame, with fans waiting for him in the lobby and girls passing him their numbers after the shows. It used to be what he wanted, he supposes. Except his future managers keep asking more and more from him, and he's not sure his old life will survive. Tony is ready to help, and compromise, but Steve maybe isn't anymore.

making it work: @/ironarm

“Just tell him you don’t want to see him anymore,” Clint replies, finishing the end of his burger and starting to crumple up the wrapper, “It’s not like you love him or anything.”

“Clint, if I thought I could get rid of him about a week ago, I would have. But for some fucked up reason, I can’t lie to him. It’s like, I see those baby blue eyes, and bam. Whatever barrier that I built up from childhood trauma is gone.”

Clint chokes on the last piece of his burger, almost resisting the urge to smack Tony on the side of his head.

Tony was a fucking idiot.

Boys Like Us: @naferty

The video had been a mistake. One of the biggest mistakes he had ever done in his life, and considering Tony Stark had done a bunch of shit in his younger years, and even older years, that was saying something.

It was just that none of those things were as embarrassing as that video.

He blamed Clint for everything

Stained Fingertips: @thesoundofnat

“I don’t really believe in magic,” he said, clearing his throat. “But I’m almost certain you’re a goddamn wizard, Steve Rogers.”

Steve would remember those words for the rest of his life.

(Or, Steve is maybe slightly obsessed with drawing Tony. Not that Tony minds.)

Inhale, Ex-Sail: @summerpipedream

"Rich pirates decked out in top-of-the-line black market gear,” grumbled Tony, ”why don’t I have the budget to make those again?’

Rhodey inched back so that he and Tony were back-to-back. “We’re apparently law abiding citizens now, which means having to pay taxes.”

Tony scowled. “Urg, right. Remind me why I wanted to do that again?”

Rhodey rolled his eyes. “What was it you called him last time? Your sweet tart? Your apple pie in the sky? The wind beneath your wings? Hopefully he’ll fly here fast enough so we don’t get killed. Or worse, mugged.”

Tony Stark Bingo K1 - AU: Steampunk

As Constant As A Star: @atsadi

The Swan Princess AU

As young children, Prince Anthony and Princess Natasha of neighboring Midgardian kingdoms are betrothed, and spend their summers together every year until they are wed. Tony adores his headstrong friend Nat: it’s her scowly little companion Steve he’s not thrilled about at first. But soon Steve goes from being a thorn in Tony’s side to being his dearest friend – and much, much more than that. Despite Steve feeling the same way about Tony, the pair still dance around each other for years as Steve struggles to accept his feelings for another man: especially one already betrothed to another. Not to mention that Tony is a prince, and Steve is nothing but a squire.

But before they can make peace, Tony is kidnapped and dragged into the beginnings of another conflict in the nearby magical kingdom of Asgard – he really hates magic. With his potential usefulness diminishing by the day, Tony races to escape even as Steve, Natasha, and their friends race to find him and bring him home.

And—just to make matters worse—Tony has been trapped by a powerful spell and turned into a swan, of all creatures. He really, really hates magic.

Always Yours: @hollyjollyhope

Getting kidnapped is normal for them, at this point. But there's nothing normal about this.

And suddenly, Tony has a choice to make.

Oxeye Daisy (patience): @s-horne

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

Steve startled at the voice from behind him and turned around to see Tony standing in the kitchen doorway. He stared straight at Tony for a long moment. The room was quiet, time stretching out in a thick and uncomfortable silence as neither man dare to move nor opened his mouth to speak first.

White Clover (a promise): @s-horne

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Tony lifted his head as he tried to focus on Steve’s voice. When he managed to open his eyes and blink a bit of the blurriness away, he was rewarded with a gentle smile being shone down at him.

“There you are,” Steve said. “Was worried I was going to have to talk to myself.”

Though his tone was light, Tony knew what he meant. It was no secret that Tony was physically weaker and a hell of a lot more human than Steve was and was therefore struggling more with the lack of regular nourishment that came with being held hostage.

“Course not,” Tony said back, voice hoarse but plastering a smile on his face all the same. His head was pounding and his eyes couldn't stay open. “Would I ever do that to you? You’d never get a sensible answer.”

Acta non verba: @firebrands

unapologetic fluff about two idiots who can barely keep it together with how hard they're crushing on each other

or:

tony has to help steve with math + a halloween party = a good time for everyone, eventually

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

Adjacent, Against, Upon: @firebrands

A political AU!

Steve Rogers is running as the Mayor of somewhere, America. Tony Stark, his campaign manager, deals with a candidate who isn’t interested in lying, and just wants to do good by these citizens, god damn it.

song of unrest: @omg-just-peachy

How was Steve supposed to reconcile all of this? The way he looked so different but still felt so much the same? It made Steve’s head spin. He knows he shouldn’t care so much, that he is what he is, but he just wants to know.

Paint The Town Blue: @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

Camelot: @weethreequarter

For one shining moment, there was Camelot.

In 2019, Karen Page meets Captain Steve Rogers to conduct an exclusive interview on his late husband, President Tony Stark.

In 2007, Steve meets Senator Tony Stark and falls in love.

he thinks he’s lancelot (but he’s more of a sir lamorak): @theotherwasdeath

Tony knows firsthand that violence isn’t funny. So why oh why does he think that the scene playing out in front of him, Steve and Victor Von Doom in a knock-out, drag-down fist fight, is absolutely hilarious?

wildflowers: @tinytonysnark

“So,” Steve begins, clapping his hands together, “the city of SHIELD is in debt. The big ups have sent for financial advisors, all the way from DC! They’re gonna take a look at the city’s spending and make some cuts.”

He squints at the camera against the morning sun shining through the courtyard, “I’m not that worried. Everyone here in the parks department is an important member of the team and absolutely needed.”

The camera swings towards the office where from the large glass window, Natasha can be seen picking up the ringing phone before immediately slamming it back down onto the receiver.

[A Parks and Rec AU]

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

#adi's rec list #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers x tony stark #steve rogers/tony stark #steve x tony #steve/tony #underrated stevetony fics #this is part 1 of this rec list #part two will be out soon!!#im planning on doing this for other ships!!#so let me know if there's any ships you wanna see this for

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thesleepy1 · 3 years

Text

All In Endearment, Dear

A/N: My friend really liked that last fic and they wanted another one. I am so glad they liked it. One of the only positive things that happened in a while, hahaha. To anyone who comes across this, commenting, anything, even if it's just a smile makes my day. I finally get to feel that little surge of happiness when my fics are being read. It's a nice feeling, not going to lie. And to top off all of that, @queenofchaos7 requested that I continue this fic. So here we are.

Pairings: Merlin x Arthur

Summary: In an attempt to be more direct with Arthur, he takes Merlin out hunting with his knights. Something so intimate and a clear show of his loyalty, that Merlin could not mistake it as anything else. And in the middle of the forest, Arthur would not be able to chicken out like a coward, lest Merlin gets lost in the forest.

Word count: 3,824

Part 1

Part 3

Warnings: language, suggestive language, crude jokes, violence, blood,

Merlin was ignoring him. The man just had to be. Sure, Merlin came when called, was present in the council meetings, and everytime Arthur “accidently” injured himself Merlin would be there to nurse his wounds. It was just that Merlin rarely ever made eye contact with him anymore unless absolutely necessary. Merlin rarely ever lingered when called anymore, quickly leaving Arthur’s side to do who knows what.

Everyone already knew that Merlin was a wizard. Arthur was in full support of Merlin’s power and his ability to be useful among the court. For once in the brunette’s life that is.

There was no reason why Merlin should be avoiding him like this. Had he done something to make the man upset? Was it the rain comment from the week prior? Whatever it was, it was making him lose sleep. Arthur had long admitted that he was infatuated with Merlin, in love even. Though that was a big word. But obsessed to the point of losing sleep? That was where he drew the line.

“Merlin!” Arthur yelled in that way of his. So distinctive that Merlin subconsciously curled up deeper into his nest of blankets. “Merlin!” Arthur yelled again, banging on Merlin’s door in Gaius’ quarters. “I know you aren’t at the tavern. I checked already. Wake up and come out here or I’m going in!”

Begrudgingly, Merlin rolled out of his straw stuffed bed and unlatched the door for Arthur. The king immediately stepped in before Merlin could close him out. “Do you realize how late it is?” Merlin asked in a sleep filled voice, not expecting Arthur to reply.

“Early actually, Merlin. The sun will be up in an hour or so,” Arthur replied, trying to hide the effects that Merlin’s sleep filled voice had on him. The king was so glad that the room was too dark to properly see.

“That doesn’t explain why you’re in my room, you twat,” Merlin groaned, trying to make Arthur out without magic. If he didn’t know any better, it looked like Arthur was in his hunting outfit.

“Would it be absurd to say I just wanted to see you?” Arthur asked in mock jest, watching Merlin’s face in the dark of the room. Even without light, he was shining.

“You see me everyday, remember? I work for you,” Merlin countered, turning on his heel to beeline for his bed.

“But you’ve been ignoring me.”

Merlin ignored him in favor for getting back into his bed.

“Merlin,” Arthur tired again. “I’m here for a reason, you know.” When Merlin didn’t reply Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’m taking you hunting.”

That got the wizard right out of his bed. “What?” he exclaimed in confusion, his hair stuck up on one side. Arthur was tempted to fix it back into place.

“What do you mean, what? We’re going hunting in the forest.” Arthur approached the bedside slowly, as if coming up to a sleeping lion in its den.

“Is that an order?” Merlin mumbled against the bed, pressing his sagging pillow against his head to hide away from Arthur. His shirt was riding up his chest from the movement and Arthur had to quickly look away.

“I-it is,” Arthur stuttered, suddenly very interested in Merlin’s walls. The wizard had a little parchment picture of a bird nailed to his wall. The sketch was quite accurate, though Arthur could not remember for the life of him what kind of bird it was. “We’re going hunting with the knights.”

“Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

“It is morning, Merlin,” Arthur inched toward the door, suddenly very aware that Merlin had gotten up from his bed and was currently undressing behind him. “J-just hurry or else we’re leaving you behind.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Merlin snarked, shrugging into a new tunic. “You might stab yourself with your own sword if I’m not around.”

Arthur turned around, offended that Merlin would say such a thing, “Well I would have you know-” Merlin had yet to put on a new pair of trousers. Arthur ran from the door without saying another word, scarred for life at what he had seen. Merlin furrowed his eyebrows in confusion until he heard a distant shout. “I still expect you to be there, Merlin!” Groaning at the unfairness of life, Merlin stepped into his trousers and made his way to the courtyard.

Arthur and the knights were there waiting for him, everyone disregarding, Arthur looked just as exhausted as he was. One of them was barely holding onto his mount. “Dear god, Arthur, what are you doing?” Merlin asked with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Take the lot of you hunting for a great beast or something the kitchen staff could roast for us!”

Merlin was ready to leap off a cliff. “At this ungodly hour?” he asked, not really expecting an answer.

“Of course, Merlin. Do you really expect us to hunt at night?” Arthur answered with a smirk on his lips. The knights of the round table all looked as if they were ready to kill their king as well. Gwaine was half asleep on his stallion. Lancelot was sleeping with his eyes open, the lucky bastard.

“I expect you to hunt without me,” Merlin shook his head, turning his back on Arthur to saddle his own horse. The mare was purposely stronger than the others, a more reliant breed that had the best sense of home. If anything were to happen while they were hunting, Arthur wanted Merlin safe.

“Come on, Merlin. It won’t be that bad,” Arthur sounded, ordering his knights to flank him as they rode off into the forest. “Really, it could be worse.”

“It really couldn’t.” Merlin rode to his left, Percival to his right. For knights of his court, none of them except Leon seemed to be properly awake. Even Elyan who used to get up before the break of dawn to help his father was trying to not doze off. Arthur was frankly disappointed in them.

“It could be fun, Merlin,” Leon gave him a reassuring grin, reminding Arthur of a golden retriever. “If anything happens out here, we’ll be here to protect you.”

“It's more likely that Merlin would get himself into a spout of trouble. He’s a magnet for that sort of thing,” Arthur butted in, suddenly aware of how close Leon was to Merlin despite their protective formation. His knight looked bright and cheerful even when the sun barely broke the horizon. “Don’t worry, Merlin. We’ll be sure to save you from yourself,” Arthur added, playfully punched Merlin on the shoulder.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Merlin groaned, rubbing against the spot Arthur had hit.

“You’ll live,” Arthur hid the guilt that ran through his system well. “If you can’t take a punch then you won’t survive out here, you clotpole.”

“First you take my sleep then you take my insults, what next, my breakfast? Oh, wait,” Merlin snarked, holding the reins to his mare tightly. Arthur had made Merlin carry all of their supplies, his horse being the strongest and all. But the wizard didn’t know that. He just saw Arthur as dead from the head up inconsiderate.

“You haven’t had breakfast, Merlin?” Elyan asked in a concerned tone. When Merlin shook his head, Elyan quickly glared at the back of Arthur’s head. “We should catch something for you then. The rest of us had bread and cheese before departing,” Elyan informed, grabbing the box strapped to his back to notch an arrow and be on the lookout.

“He’ll be fine. Missing one meal won’t kill him,” Arthur brushed off Elyan’s concern. His knight was a much more skilled archer than he was. If he was to impress Merlin then he would need all the chances he could get. Perhaps taking his most skilled knights into the forest to hunt for sport was not the most brilliant idea.

But if it were only him and Merlin, then the wizard might have suspected something amiss. Arthur rarely went outside of the city outskirts unless it were for a diplomatic meeting. And he never hunted before day break. It was unsafe to do so alone. However, Arthur wanted all the time he needed to confess to Merlin. So, really, bringing the knights was the only smart choice.

Arthur was beginning to regret his intelligent decision.

The sun finally rose to signal that morning had truly arrived. And with it brought disappointment. They had spent the entirety of the morning running around like cocks with their heads chopped off. Not a single one of them could catch even the smallest of blue jays. No one had any luck.

Arthur even begged Merlin to cast a spell to make something fall at their feet but the wizard had refused because he found it too cruel. The king agreed but at the same time, they would be killing the creature for supper either way. Did it really matter, how?

According to Merlin, yes.

And that was how they ended up here at the river. Noon had just passed its peak and the soft morning sun was blistering with heat. Everyone was sweating in their armor and gear. Practically begging Arthur to stop for a dip. Pleading that they’ll try to catch some fish while they were at it.

Only Merlin sat fine as can be in his faded blue tunic and red handkerchief. The fabric so worn and loved, Arthur could only imagine how soft they were. Though, those two items seemed to be the only things in Merlin’s wardrobe. That and the inverted of the two, faded red tunics and blue handkerchiefs. The wizard’s sense of style was lacking to say the least.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“Besides arrogance? Not that I know of,” Arthur answered defensively, turning his back on Merlin for the second time that day. All the knights had piled their armour and clothes on the ground, running head first into the river. The wizard clearly didn’t want to be left out.

Arthur may join them in the water but there was no possible way he could compete with them. They were soldiers, training from morning till evening and then some more. Their bodies were muscular, hair greased and unruly, their scars gleamed in the sun. Arthur couldn’t help but stare at them, watching as droplets fell from their rippling chest. His face grew bright red, heat making him dizzy as he resisted the urge to look lower.

Merlin was having no such complications.

The wizard had just taken off his drawstring trousers. His boots laid next to the knight’s pile of clothes. The horses were tied to a nearby tree and happily grazing. Arthur noticed these simple things so as to not stare at Merlin’s figure. As much as he would like to make fun of Merlin, there was nothing to make a mockery of. For a simple servant, Merlin was quite fit.

“Come on, Arthur! The water is great,” Gwaine yelled from the river, splashing on shore where Arthur was still standing with his gear on. His back was to the group, but his knights knew damn well why he was not looking their way. They had found out about his little crush on Merlin after he had one too many tankards. And since then, they had not ceased in their teasing.

“There could be leeches in there for all you know,” Arthur replied, watching a family of birds high up on the tree branches.

“Leeches are harmless,” Merlin said in a cheerful tone. He could hear the man swimming and splashing behind him. “If you’re worried about the leeches’ well-being, Arthur, they’ll be fine. Missing one meal won’t kill them,” Merlin laughed in a way that made butterflies flutter in Arthur’s stomach.

“Ha, ha, very funny, Merlin.”

“The river feels wonderful,” Leon added as well, looking like a glowing greek god come alive. Sure, all of his knights were good looking, but he saw the way the soldier looked at Merlin. Just because Leon knew about his crush, doesn’t mean the man wasn’t willing to steal Merlin. The knight was so clearly flaunting his muscles, tousling his bright blonde hair with his veiny hand. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Please, Arthur?” Merlin pleaded, the sound going straight to Arthur’s heart and perhaps somewhere lower. “It will probably fix your sour mood.”

“I don’t think anything can fix that,” Percival said with a grin that took up the entirety of his face.

“I think only one thing could.” Arthur could feel Gwaine’s wink against the back of his head. He resisted the urge to gag in the back of his throat. If he loses to Gwaine, he’ll never forgive himself. Leon was worthy at the very least, Gwaine drank too much. To lose to a pig was an under disgrace.

“Fine!” Arthur yelled to his hunting party. He tugged off his gear, his tunic, and then eventually his trousers. It was all a very frantic dance to rid himself of layers, he felt like an utter git. “Are you happy now?” he turned to ask his party, preparing himself to jump into the river.

“No pants, my lord?” Elyan asked in what could pass as a concerned tone, but Arthur could hear the snicker in his voice.

“Well- Aren’t you all naked as well?” Arthur stuttered, flushed as red as the day he was born.

“Even I have my pants on,” Gwaine grinned widely, floating on his back to prove his point. The man was wearing white cotton pants with pink sewn hearts. It was quite comedic if not for the fact that Arthur was standing butt naked in front of the man of his affections.

Arthur quickly grabbed his pants and stepped into them before struggling to jump into the river. He failed to properly jump due to searing eyes on him and belly flopped into the water instead. “Gah!” Arthur cursed under his breath, surfacing with a grimace. “The water’s so cold.”

“There’s no need to feel ashamed, my lord. Performance issues are normal for someone your age.”

“Stress and lack of usage I hear are big factors in the issue,” Merlin added, grinning at Arthur playfully.

“Shut it, Merlin.”

“I think you might be scaring all the fish away, Arthur. You would think that little shrimp of yours would attract more of them.”

Having enough of their rude jests, Arthur pushed his hand through the water and splashed the nearest men. That only awarded him with six grown men thrown into a water battle. It wasn’t fair that Percival was large enough to create a tidal wave of a splash or that Merlin could use his magic to protect himself and attack the others. So when he had ran for his own horse to wade through the water, it was all within the rules.

“Cheater!”

“Traitor!”

Arthur only laughed out loud, “The horses want to be a part of the fun as well!” He had quickly grabbed ahold of his clothes and putting them on with one hand was proving to be more difficult than it seemed. “Catch me if you can-” A strong gust of wind appeared out of the blue and knocked Arthur right back into the water, his horse swimming to the other side.

“What were you saying about fun, Arthur?” Merlin looked down at him, those blue grey eyes staring right at his heart. “Are you willing to play fair, now?” Merlin said in a whisper of a voice.

Arthur parted his mouth to speak, but Merlin took his breath away. This was the moment to tell him. To confess how much he needed Merlin in his life, wanted the man without hesitation. He would never give away his kingdom, but for Merlin…. For Merlin he would consider it. A kingdom was not one without its kings.

He could not place the exact moment he fell in love with Merlin, but he had always loved the fool. “I l-”

His horse on the other side of the river nighed in warning, the steed whining in fear. Bucking up on high legs, Arthur had to hold onto Merlin’s arm to steady himself. There on the shore was a beast he had never seen before. A bear as large as a house stood on four reptilian feet, the fur of the thing made from pure glistening metal. The creature had three sets of violet eyes and radiated heat like a furnace.

Before any of them could react the bear opened its maw to reveal dozens of rows upon rows of teeth. They were sharpened to a point, serrated edges that tore through the horse with a rigid form of fiery. In the blink of an eye, the horse was gone.

“Get back on your horses!” Arthur ordered his men, back stroking onto shore for his sword. “Prepare yourself!” A breeze brushed against his back, goosebumps littering his pale skin. His men were behind him, but Merlin, the bastard that he was, was in front of him. “Merlin, get your ass back here!” he yelled, gripping his sword in hand, chest and clothes soaked through.

“He’s starving!” Merlin shouted back as if that explained everything. The brunette’s lips were tinted blue, his pale skin a purple bruise from their earlier rough water fight. He looked so small then.

“Get back here before I drag you by your ear. You are not to engage!” Arthur threatened, quickly looking out of the corner of his eye to make sure the rest of his knights were alright. They all stood prepared to give their lives for the block headed wizard. Swords at the ready, amour and gear laid askew on the floor, chest bare. Their lives for the thief that stole Arthur’s heart.

“Don’t attack!” Merlin yelled back, wading towards the bear with vigor. His chest heaved with each breath labored by fear. “The poor thing is starving,” Merlin repeated, holding his hands out in a reassuring gesture.

“Merlin,” Arthur warned in a hushed voice, afraid that if he spoke any louder the creature would feel threatened. “Get back here, it's not safe you, utter git,” he hissed between his teeth, eyes darting between the two beasts

“I’ll live,” Merlin called back, eyes glowing light amber and gold.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Lancelot muttered under his breath.

Merlin’s lips twitched upwards at the comment, “Make sure Arthur behaves if I’m gone.”

The mere implication of such a thing had the king of Camelot rushing forward. Arthur would die before having to live a day without Merlin. He was seeing red as he waded through the water, pulling the wizard behind him. “Never!” Arthur yelled louder than intended, the creature whipping its head at them.

“You bloody-” Merlin’s curse was shortened by the blood curdling roar that erupted like a volcano from the beast. It reeled back onto its two high legs, claws as long as Arthur’s arms slashing forward. The underbelly of the thing was made from thick places interwoven, almost as if it knew that was where Arthur was planning to strike.

“Bold of you to assume death could get you out of this relationship,” Arthur quipped before diving underwater.

“Relationship? If you think you could confess to me and then go off to get yourself killed, then I’ll kill you myself.”

“Hey, lovebirds! Have your lover’s quarrel after you’re not in immediate danger,” Gwaine shouted, joining Arthur underwater.

“All of you are going on a fool’s errand,” Merlin said exasperated, climbing onto shore. Leon and Elyan pulled him up with their free hands, pushing him behind them the moment he was on his feet. He rolled his eyes at this, absolutely done with his hunting party. Turning on his heel, he found his horse with all of their supplies. “The bear hasn’t eaten in days, have you seen the state of this forest?” Merlin pulled out a small sack of fruits and bread he had nabbed from the kitchen before running to meet Arthur.

The remaining knights looked onto him in concern, none of them completely used to the words and voice Merlin used when practicing magic. It was a low hiss of words, his eyes illuminated by liquid sunlight. If he weren't on their side, they would be slightly fearful of the wizard. Especially when he made the small sack fly through the air like a canon smelling of freshly baked yeast.

The bear whined low in its throat, the sound like gravel being thrown by the handful at glass windows. It caught the flying sack in between its rows of teeth, tearing through the thing thread by thread like it had the horse. Arthur was within attacking distance when the beast unhinged its maw and let put the most rancid burp.

Arthur and Gwaine fainted where they once stood. The creature lumbered away like it hadn’t just killed a member of their cavalry and scared them lifeless. Merlin swam across the river without hindrance, slapping both Arthur and Gwaine across the face the moment he touched shore. “You two better have a pulse or I’m feeding you to the bear,” Merlin threatened, feeling at their necks and wrists.

“Please, mercy,” Gwaine groaned, “The thing smells like my grandfather’s cooking.”

Merlin chuckled despite himself, the sound causing Arthur to stir. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” the king murmured more to himself than to the rest of the party.

“Really? I would have never guessed. I assumed you had planned this all out, being killed by a beastly bear included. Was that not a part of your little list of Hells for Merlin?”

“This was supposed to be a date,” Arthur said instead, struggling to sit up properly. The smell of the beast lingered and Arthur could have thrown up. “I was supposed to impress you and confess.”

“Well call me impressed,” Merlin brushed Arthur’s hair out of his hair. It was soft to the touch, even riding in a forest for the whole day couldn’t ruin it. “But I’m planning the next date.”

“Next date?”

“Oh no, no, no, a concussion isn’t getting you out of this relationship,” Merlin shook his head with a grin and a gleam in his eyes.

“I don’t have a con- Ow!” Merlin smacked him over the head. “That hurt!”

“Really? It felt like I was just hitting rocks.”

“You can’t say that to me, Merlin. I’m your boyfriend.”

Merlin couldn’t hide the blush on his face and to be honest, he didn’t want to. “I say that because you’re my boyfriend. It's said with endearment, dear.” Arthur grinned at the pet name, Merlin returning the smile as he pulled the king close. Pressing their lips together should have been done ages ago, it was breathtaking. Merlin tasted of faint crisp apples, Arthur of something utterly his own.

Arthur tasted of something delicious, Merlin decided. And he was starving.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years

Text

It’s Not That Bad Part 2

prompt: I loved your Merlin dragon fic!!! I re-read it like 5 times now. Can I be so humble as to request a small sequel? Nothings cooler than your portrayal of Merlin as a BAMF dragon and Arthur having heart eyes 😍

Yes! Moar of the bois!

Read on Ao3 Part 1!

Pairings: Merthur, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Warnings: none. Merlin’s a little shit but what did we expect

Word Count: 1578

Okay, Merlin’s gonna take the blame this time. This one’s on him. Definitely. No two ways about it. He’s big enough to admit he screwed up. He is! This one’s definitely on him. Absolutely not a question about it.

In his defense, what was he supposed to do when he saw a sorcerer with a magic circle around a dragon’s egg chanting ominously as a bunch of storm clouds formed overhead, not run into the middle and push it out?

Yeah, as if.

Gwaine whoops so loudly Merlin’s ears rattle.

“Alright, alright,” he wants to say, even though he’s got no right to, “calm down, you’re gonna make my ears explode.”

But he doesn’t say that, because he was no better.

“Hey, my turn!”

“Merlin, come down, they’re going to spot you.”

“Don’t listen to them, Merlin, let’s just stay up here forever!”

He can hear Gwaine’s pout as he lands back in the clearing, Percival affectionately ruffling Gwaine’s hair as he grins like a little kid. Merlin snuffles at Arthur’s cape before flopping onto his belly.

“Come on, Merlin,” he laughs, “you can’t be that tired already.”

“Listen, when you’re a dragon and there’s suddenly more of you, you can be as tired as you want to.”

“Maybe if you got off your skinny arse more—“

“Say that again and you’ll find out just how skinny my arse is right now.”

Arthur, of course, because he’s an absolute prat, scratches behind his ears. He gets right under the section of Merlin’s scales and stays there. Every single muscle in Merlin’s body relaxes.

“That,” he manages to grumble, “is not fair.”

“Sure, Merlin.”

Merlin manages to switch his tail up to bat at Arthur’s cape.

“So what are you going to do now?” Lancelot leans against the stump in the center of camp. “We’ve not got much to do except wait until the moon.”

“Yep.” Merlin closes his eyes. “Which means I get to take a break.”

“A break?” Arthur rolls his eyes. “You call this a break?”

“You can’t yell at me to do chores, I don’t have to save your arse, and I don’t have to go anywhere.” He scuffs his chin back and forth on the ground. “I can just take a nap. Right here.”

“Merlin.”

Merlin just yawns—not breathing fire everywhere!—and clicks his jaw, settling on the forest floor and leaning his head up against Lancelot’s tree stump. Lancelot chuckles and rests his hand on the dragon’s forehead.

“I think he’s quite earned a rest, don’t you think, sire?” Lancelot nods back toward Camelot. “He has just saved our lives only yesterday.”

Arthur grumbles, sitting on the log. Leon rolls his eyes good-naturedly and pats him on the shoulder.

“Your Merlin will be back before too long, and you’ll both be your normal selves again.”

Arthur looks up at him with a frown. “How am I not being normal?”

Elyan coughs but it does nothing to hide the way the water sprays out of his mouth. Percival passes him a cloth.

“You miss having your little Merlin,” Gwaine says, chomping into an apple, “which was to be expected.”

“What?” Arthur splutters. “I—what on earth are you on about?”

Merlin, meanwhile, is having a great time. It’s warm outside, the sun feels like a fire-warmed blanket on his scales, Lancelot’s hand keeps making little stroking motions over his forehead, and he’s pretty sure that low rumble is coming from him.

“You’re both attached at the hip, we know. You don’t have to hide it from us.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Oh, did he mention how much better the trees smell with a dragon nose? The scent of the pine and the slightly sweet smell of the blossoms are intoxicating. He flares his nostrils out to drink it in, is this why Arthur loves coming out to the forest so often? It’s wonderful.

“Sire, there is no one else around. You can be honest.”

“I am being honest!”

“Sure, Arthur.”

The ground is so warm. He could go to sleep right here. Right…here…never wake up again…

“I am being completely honest! I think it’s you lot that’ve lost a marble or two.”

“Merlin, can you believe this?”

Go to sleep…not have to worry about anything.

“Yeah, Merlin, you’ve been awfully quiet.”

Can you hear something? Merlin can’t. It’s too nice outside. Perfect nap weather.

“We can see you, Merlin, we know you’re not asleep.”

Dragons regularly sleep with their eyes half-open. It’s a fascinating piece of information. Merlin should tell Gaius about it.

“Merlin.”

“Hey, that’s my thing!”

“Merlin,” Lancelot chuckles, poking the scales between his eyes, “come on.”

“I’m a dragon,” he mumbles, “I don’t have to do anything.”

“I mean, if you’d like to wait for them to tease you when you can’t knock them over with barely any effort, you can.”

Lancelot’s got a point.

Merlin opens his eyes and lifts his head, staring at the other knights. Gwaine’s got a shit-eating grin wide enough to fit four apples. Elyan and Percival are staring at Arthur. Leon’s got his court-smirk on. And Arthur is glaring at the ground with bright red cheeks.

“So what do you want?”

Gwaine shrugs. “Only for you to help us get Princess here to confess that he misses having you around as you normally are.”

“Well, I’m certainly not as easy to shove around like this.”

“Damn right,” Arthur mumbles.

“But you’re also not as easy to hoard protectively to himself,” Gwaine says, “or pretend you’re gonna get sent off on a massive list of chores so that we don’t get a chance to talk to you.”

“I do not do that?”

“Really?” Merlin frowns. “That’s not what you’re doing?”

“Merlin!”

“See? Even Merlin agrees!”

Leon chuckles. “At least we’ve moved past you insisting to be the one to escort Merlin to the dungeons.”

“Wait, wait, Princess did what?”

“Leon, don’t you dare.”

“What,” Leon blinks innocently, tilting his head, “is it not prudent?”

“I—well, yes, it’s relevant, but you—why—just don’t.”

“Come on, Leon,” Percival says, “don’t hold out on us.”

“Yeah, Princess, shush.”

“Perhaps Merlin should tell us this,” Leon suggests, “I believe you would be willing?”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

“Yeah, Merlin, you’ve been holding out on us.”

Merlin huffs. “I would get angry and Arthur would march me downstairs. That’s it. End of story.”

“Oh, no, my friend,” Leon says, and what did Merlin do, forget to polish his chainmail or something?— “Arthur did not simply march you downstairs. He would catch you in his arms as you tried to rush whatever noble was making an egregious overstep of personal liberties and hustle you out the door in an embrace.”

The chunk of apple in Gwaine’s mouth flies out and hits Merlin’s snout.

“Hey!”

Gwaine is too busy laughing to be able to respond to an indignant dragon who did not deserve to have apple spit up at him.

“You—you—of my lord, it’s like a ballad,” he manages through gasping cackles, “that’s so sweet!”

“It was quite nice.”

“Oh…that’s what you meant,” Merlin mumbles, “I think you should still, uh, not do that.”

“Do what,” Leon blinks, “continue to tell them about things that happened?”

“Yep.”

Leon raises his hands. “Oh, well, if you say so, Merlin.”

“Now why,” Arthur grumbles, “is it that you’ll listen to him and not me?”

“We like Merlin better than you.”

“Gwaine!”

Gwaine shrugs innocently. “What? It’s true.”

Yeah…whatever happened to Merlin taking a nap?

“Merlin’s also a dragon right now, sire. I’m playing it safe.”

“He won’t be in a day.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

A twig snaps.

The clearing hushes. Percival’s hand goes to his sword. Even Gwaine sobers and looks around.

Movement. Behind Merlin.

He holds still, waiting, until he feels something prick his tail.

In a flash, he whips around and roars, jaws wide, ready to snatch the offending object out of the air. The bandit he whirls on screams before he disappears down Merlin’s throat.

“Bandits!”

Before th knights can make it past Merlin’s tail, he rushes forward, grabbing another bandit and hurling him across the clearing. The bandit collides with his companion and they both tumble to the ground, still. The last bandit readies a crossbow.

“Rot in hell, foul beast.”

Well. Merlin can’t have that.

All that remains of the bandits are smoking pieces of armor and a few saddlebags that were too worn the burn.

Merlin huffs, shaking his head and turning back around, intent on getting his nap, thank you very much, only to realize the knights are frozen, looking at him.

“…what?”

“Bloody hell, that was fantastic.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a dragon?”

“That was impressive!”

“Good show, mate.”

Arthur just stares at him. Eyes wide. There’s more flush to his cheeks, but not from embarrassment. The way Arthur’s looking at him now is almost like…wonder.

“…Arthur?”

Arthur sheaths his sword and walks up to him, resting a hand on his snout.

“Arthur?”

Lancelot, bless whatever intuition the gods gave him, loudly declares that they’re going to need more firewood and hustles the rest of the knights off into the woods. Arthur barely watches them go.

“Arthur, what’s—“

“I miss you being as you really are,” he says softly, “because I can’t properly congratulate you for how impressive that was.”

Merlin blinks. Oh. Well, then.

“…it’s only until tomorrow.”

Arthur smiles. “Then I’d better appreciate having you as a dragon until then, hmm?”

The rest of the knights come back to Merlin sleeping in the clearing, Arthur tucked up against his chest, between his claws.

#merthur fic #merthur #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #dragonbabbles #fic

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writings-of-a-daphodil · 4 years

Text

Fire Keeper: Chapter 19

Douxie x fem reader

Masterlist in Bio!

Series Summary: You are Jim’s older sister who is taking a break from college and has moved back home to Arcadia. You end up joining Jim and his friends on their adventures.

Chapter 19 summary: The past gets messy. It's got a very fluffy ending.

A/n: It’s finally here and it's 7,547 words, yay!!!

“Death to all trolls!” Called Arthur as he rode towards the forest.

“Death to all trolls!” His knights repeated.

“Let's get out there, boys, and rip their faces off!” Galahad cheered and you wrinkled your nose at the violence.

“Medieval Bessie, go! Ho-ho! Cow-ho!” Steve prompted his cow forwards and you decided to do the same with your horse. Past Douxie was supposed to be helping you ride, but he was overly excited to be going on a mission.

You tried to steer the horse in the right direction, but he just went towards the left. You huffed in frustration when he wouldn’t move. You knew it wasn’t the horse's fault, but that didn’t stop you from getting a little irritated.

“Would you mind helping me?” You asked Past Douxie, but he was in his own world.

“What a beautiful day for a ride. It just makes you want to-“ he stopped talking and suddenly you noticed that he wasn’t on the horse anymore.

“Huh?” Steve asked. You looked to see your Douxie moving past Douxie back inside the gate.

He came over to you. “Would you like to help me?” You asked as he got onto the horse.

“Gladly,” he responded, taking the reins.

“You do know that repeated sleep spells can cause memory loss permanently,” Archie informed, soaring past you.

Douxie shrugged. “Huh, don't remember that. No matter. Let's go! The king needs us!”

You held onto Douxie as he sped up the horse. It was both exhilarating and terrifying to be on one, but it calmed you to know that you could catch yourself with magic.

~~~~

Eventually you had to abandon the horses and while you had enjoyed riding him, you were glad to be on your own two feet again.

You went to walk with Merlin so you could distract him from Douxie’s plan. You silently followed the old wizard, doing your best not to irritate him, while also trying to keep him away from Claire and Douxie.

Your job was going well, Merlin seemed to be content with ignoring Douxie and just focusing on protecting the king. He occasionally talked to you, inquiring after your name and whether you had magic or not. He seemed satisfied with your answers, but he warned you about using your magic.

“Arthur has never been fond of magic and he also doesn’t like strangers. You’ll need a good excuse if he notices you,” Merlin was saying.

“I was just going to say I was hoping to be your new apprentice,” you said and Merlin considered it.

“That should be fine,” Merlin eventually responded.

You looked over to Douxie as you and Merlin settled into vigilant silence again. He looked tired and you frowned. He was putting too much pressure on himself. He had been stressed before you had gone into the past, but now you didn’t know how he was able to function.

When he saw you staring at him he gave you a small smile and a wave. You waved back, focusing on a knight as you felt your face heat up.

“No sign of them, sire. Trail's gone cold,” the knight announced. You looked past him and saw the trees swaying gently. You would have expected a place called the wild wood to be more creepy, but it seemed like a nice place.

Douxie began to walk over to Arthur who was looking into the woods. “Say, my liege, didn't you used to spend time in this wood?”

Arthur sighed wistfully. “Yes. As a boy. Much time was lost in this accursed forest. I often fled to these woods to escape from my growing responsibilities.”

Douxie gave you a bright smile, full of hope before waving his hands discreetly. Bright Blue magic bloomed around you, bringing to life three children. You smiled as they laughed, remember it when you and Jim were carefree and could just play together. Now he was somewhere in these woods and you were supposed to be hunting him, not that you’d ever harm your little brother.

“On your guard, men! We've been bewitched!” A knight called and you rolled your eyes, they were so scared of magic.

“What's happening? It's coming for me!” Another painicked. “It's dark magic!”

Merlin scoffed. “Stand down. We're not in danger. Uh, my lord...”

You turned your attention to Arthur, who seemed to actually be bewitched. “Gwen,” the king breathed. “My betrothed. My beloved. She was the heart of me.”

Morgana came over. “Mm, we loved these woods. The freedom they offered. The wood showed us kindness for our courage. Gwen and I were never scared. Arthur, however...”

You smiled as a creature that looked like Nari offered the two girls a gift. However, your smile faded when a much younger Arthur pulled a dagger on her.

Arthur scowled. “I knew what danger lurked in the darkness.”

“Gwen! Away from her, demon!” Young Arthuer yelled, scaring Nari away.

“As we grew older, and duty kept me inside, Morgana encouraged Gwen, brought her out when she should have stayed safe within Camelot,” Arthur explained.

“Arthur always blamed me for our moonlight trips. But that night, it was Gwen pulling me out of the door. We'd stumbled into a Stalkling nest,” Morgana said sadly.

“Gwen!” Past Morgana yelled as a Stalkling growled.

“It was afraid,” Morgana said and you looked away as you heard the illusion scream. You recalled that a Stalkling had hungered your brother on his birthday, it was scary to think of what could have happened to him.

“That night, Gwen went into the woods and never returned.” Arthur sighed. “You, sister, should have known better.

Morgana looked away. “You never forgave me. And when my own gifts blossomed, you saw yet another abomination. Ordered Merlin to teach me to control that part of me... though Gwen loved magic as I did.”

“Yes. Yes, she did. I... I miss her terribly,” Arther whispered.

“As do I... brother,” Morgana whispered back. You felt a tear slip down your face. It was so sad what had happened to Gwen. Having lost friends, you knew how hard it was to come back from it. You couldn’t imagine losing Jim or Douxie or anyone.

You hadn’t known Douxie for as long as Arthur knew Gwen, but just thinking of losing him made the tears fall faster.

Lancelot snapped you out of your thoughts. “Troll! We found one!”

Arthur growled. “I will lose no one else to those creatures. To arms!”

Douxie sighed. “No, no, no, no, no! Not now!”

Claire looked over to you. “Oh, no! Jim!”

“Steady, men! Remember your training. Kill the beast!” Lancelot ordered.

“Wait, kill? I thought this was catch-and-release!” Steve yelled as he ran off.

“Using magic? On the king? Are you mad? Come, we must protect Arthur,” Merlin hissed at Douxie and you followed him silently.

Douxie fell into steps beside you. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying.”

“Oh...their story really got to me,” you mumbled.

“It’s gonna be okay Y/n, Jim will be safe.”

“I hope so,” you replied. You ran over to another clearing where you saw the knights take down a gumm-gumm. You couldn’t say you were too heartbroken over it, but Morgana didn’t seem too happy.

“Take the beast down!” Arthur ordered.

“Arthur, no!” Morgana cried out.

Lancelot threw his sword to Steve. “Squire Steve, will you do the honors?” Steve hesitated and the gumm-gumm tried to attack him. You got ready to use your magic, but Arthur stepped up.

“Careful, young squire. Show these beasts no sympathy.” Arthur killed the gumm-gumm and the knights cheered.

You watched them, but when a scream sounded behind you, you whirled around to see Bular by Steve. Protective sister mode kicked in and your hands glowed orange as you got ready to fight the gumm-gumm prince to protect Steve.

Bular grabbed Steve by his collar and threw him aside. You ran over to the poor boy and caught him with magic. You were honestly grateful that you didn’t have to take the beast on. You had seen how hard it had been for your brother to kill him.

“Thanks, Y/n,” Steve rasped. You helped him to his feet and went over to help deal with Bular. He couldn’t die or the future would be changed drastically for you and your brother, but you also couldn’t let him hurt anyone here.

“The Gumm-Gumm prince himself!” Galahad laughed “Oh... Come on, let's see what you are-“

Bular threw Galahad to the side and with that Arthur charged. “For Camelot!”

“I'll drink your blood out of a goblet made of your skull! I'll carve you open, let your guts spill out!” Bular snarled. You ran over to the knights with bows and got ready to redirect any arrows as Douxie and Merlin went to help Arthur.

“My king!” Galahad cried.

“Arthur!” Lancelot ran over to help. Bular raised his hand for the finishing blow, but Douxie stopped him.

“There's no spilling anything today!” Douxie grunted as he did his best to keep Bular from killing Arthur. Merlin used his own magic to create a seal on the floor and when Douxie dragged him to it, a bright green net of magic trapped Bular.

Arthur stood and walked over to the troll. “Finish it, then, fleshbag!” Bular taunted.

“The spawn of Gunmar. I won't dull Excalibur's edge with you,” Arthur snarled. “Drag this monster back to Camelot! I have plans for him. The rest, with me! My blade hungers.”

“As you wish, milord. Onward!” Lancelot called.

“Who's the monster here?” Morgana asked.

None of you knew how to answer, so when you continued walking you went back to your respective posts. Merlin walked by Morgana, so you got the chance to talk to the sorceress. It was pretty interesting getting to know this side of Morgana.

Once you told her you had magic she gave you tricks, asking if you could do shadow magic. When you said ‘no’ she was understanding and told you about this tea recipe should you ever need it. Douxie already had the recipe, but it was kind of Morgana to think of it.

As you talked you began to wonder how Morgana could have possibly turned evil. Of course you had never met her back in your time, but you had heard horrible stories about her.

You heard Arthur shouting ahead and you all ran over to the clearing.

“Wait!” Douxie yelled.

“My king, it's not safe!” Merlin tried, but Arthur ignored them.

“Oh, no,” Claire muttered and you nodded your head in agreement.

Morgana waved at you and Claire to follow her. “Come, handmaiden. Not a moment to lose.”

“What are you gonna do if we catch them?” Claire asked.

“Whatever I have to.”

With that the three of you ran over to another clearing.

“This way!” You whispered, trying to guide Morgana away from Jim’s aura. But suddenly you heard a clatter and panting. Morgana ignored your advice and went the other way. You had no choice but to follow her and help Jim.

“There you are,” Morgana shouted, jumping off a ledge. You followed her, ready to use your magic.

“Morgana?” Jim asked.

“Jim! Jim!” Claire called. She hadn’t made it to the clearing yet, but you would do your best to battle Morgana. You went to stand between Jim and the sorceress, ready to protect your little brother at any cost.

“You will not hurt him!” You growled, your hands already lighting up, ready to fight.

However, Morgana surprised you. “Don't be afraid. I won't hurt him,” she promised, kneeling next to Jim.

“Jim! Don't kill him! You said-“ Claire cried, not yet in the clearing and seeing what was happening.

“I'm sorry you were ever in a cage,” Morgana apologized.

A knight shouted in the near distance, “Down in the clearing!”

“Go. I will draw away the others. Go!” Morgana ordered, helping Jim up.

“I'll find you,” Jim promised. He gave you one last look before going to run. You got ready to face the knights when you heard Jim cry out behind you. Now it was Arthur about to kill him.

“Arthur!” Morgana yelled.

You didn’t care about being inconspicuous anymore, you had to keep Jim safe. You raced over to him, ready to fight King Arthur himself if it meant saving your brother.

Claire followed you. “Jim!”

“So, sister. Your true loyalties stand revealed at last. I warned you not to return with a clean sword,” Arthur growled. He brought the sword down, but yours materialized and was right there to meet it. Unfortunately, Arthur was stronger and you began to struggle.

“Can’t. We. Talk. This. Out?” You gasped. Suddenly, when you were sure your arms were about to give out, Morgana took your place, using the staff to keep Arthur’s sword off Jim.

“What? What are you doing?” Arthur asked, addressing his sister, completely ignoring you.

“What I should have done years ago,” Morgana retorted.

“You dare raise arms against your king?” Arthur asked, shocked.

“Run, Jim!” Claire cried, helping you get him to his feet.

“Get back here, you gravel-eater!” Lancelot yelled, shooting an arrow at you. Both of your hands were holding Jim, but thankfully Claire took care of it, blasting the arrow aside with her purple magic.

“No!” Claire screamed.

Lancelot stared in shock. “What the...? She's a wit-oh!”

Steve hit him on the head with a rock. “Oh-ho, man! That troll-that came out of nowhere! Right, guys?”

Lancelot got up again and Steve hit him. You winced and turned back to Jim.

“Go!” Both you and Claire ordered. He gave you and Claire a quick hug each before running off. You watched sadly as he faded into the forest. You hated letting him leave. You were so very worried about him. It just wasn’t fair that you couldn’t be there to protect him.

Eventually, you turned and ran back over to the clearing. You heard the clanging of swords and raced over to Merlin.

The old wizard gasped. “Morgana? She takes Arthur's life?”

“No, no! No, wait, wait! We don't have to figh-“ Douxie ran to stop them, but Merlin blasted him to the side. You went to help him up.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

“Yeah, I just don’t get why they won’t listen to us. They’re supposed to be the adults, but all they do is fight.”

“We’ll figure it out,” you promised.

“Defend the king at all costs!” Merlin ordered.

Morgana glared at him. “You, too, old man?”

“I do what I must for the greater good!” Merlin yelled.

“Traitors!” Morgana yelled, flying into the air. “You throw us in chains, fearing what you cannot control, but we of magic are not lesser creatures, we are more!”

That was when you realized that maybe Morgana wasn’t right. You believed that everyone should get along, it wasn’t right that one species was better or something. They should be equal. Morgana and Arthur were on opposite sides of the spectrum; he believed that humans were better while she believed that magical creatures were better. History was on Arthur’s side when it came to people and trolls finding peace, so you would have to side with him if you couldn’t reason with Morgana.

“Stop! We found another way!” Claire yelled, coming into the clearing.

“We did, this doesn’t have to get any worse!” You cried.

“We can do this peacefully!” Douxie added.

Morgana sighed. “The time for peace ended long ago.”

Morgana continued to attack Arthur and you and Claire went to stop her. “Morgana, he's not the enemy,” Claire yelled.

Morgana scoffed. “I trusted you! Now you side with my brother over your own kind? You're one of them. You're all against me, but I am more powerful than you know. Ortum obumbratio!”

Gold and black shadows of Morgana rose from the ground and you screamed. You looked to your own shadow and you saw it rise to fight you.

“Oh, buckets,” Douxie cursed and you backed over to him. The shadows chased you all out of the forest to a cliff.

Had you been there in any other situation, you would have stopped to admire the beauty; the sun was setting and the ocean was magnificent, but now you had to fight for your life. Once Morgana had deemed you a traitor to her cause, she was ready to end your life.

“Your cruelty towards magic-kind knows no bounds! You have taken and taken, and now we take back!” Morgana cried.

“Protect the king!” Merlin ordered again. You blasted your shadow in the stomach and went to help Arthur. However, his shadow sent him tumbling to the edge of the cliff. You raced to use your magic to help him up, but he ignored the offer. He climbed up on his own and stood his ground.

“Enough!” Arthur yelled, raising Excalibur to the sky. The clouds parted and a beam of light came down, enchanting the sword. Arthur brought it to the ground and a ball of magic exploded from it, knocking you to the ground. You flew away from the king, hitting the ground hard.

The air was knocked out of you and you struggled to get up.

Morgana cackled at him. “You outlaw magic, but fight with an enchanted sword! You snuff out any power that isn't yours, but I won't go so quietly.”

“I denied your true nature for so long because you are my sister. But when I look at you now, all I see is a demon! A witch!” Arthur roared and he and Morgana continued to fight. You watched in horror as the time map showed the timeline deteriorate. It flashed red and blue, but red seemed to be winning.

“And all I see is a little boy driven mad by hatred and prejudice! Goodbye, brother.” Morgana cried. She waved her arm to do a spell, but Arthur got to her first, cutting off her hand. Morgana gasped.

“Morgana! No! No, no, no!” You and Douxie yelled.

Arthur hesitated. “No...”

“Brother?” Morgana whispered, she took a step back, underestimating the distance between her and the edge of the cliff. You watched in horror as she disappeared.

“Morgana!” Douxie yelled.

“No!” The rest of you echoed. You watched as Arthur took a step away from the cliff. He eyed his sword and smashed it against the ground. Pieces flew everywhere and you created a shield as a piece of shrapnel almost hit you.

You let your shield down and looked over to Douxie. He looked absolutely beaten and hopeless. You didn’t know how you were gonna fix this.

~~~~

After a while Merlin convinced Arthur to leave and you walked home in silent defeat.

“Now magic has truly taken everything from me,” Arthur muttered angrily.

Claire looked over to you. “She's gone. We failed.”

You opened your mouth to say something soothing and optimistic, but nothing came out. Instead Douxie spoke, “No, I failed. Master I-I'm so sorry.”

“This is why you don't meddle with time,” Merlin said.

“But I tried. I tried to fix it,” Douxie argued.

Merlin sighed sadly. “Don't you see, boy? There is no 'fixing' anything. Every change has consequence. Knowing the future is a responsibility to bear with caution, lest you cause worse things to happen.”

Douxie sank to the ground, staring at the flashing time map. “Morgana's dead, Excalibur's broken. That never happened.”

You and Archie went to go and comfort him. “We are in uncharted territory.”

~~~~

You couldn’t believe it was only a day ago that Merlin was vowing to save the king. He had accomplished his goal of course, however, he had failed to save Morgana. After you had spent time with her in the wild woods you felt awful about her death, but there was also the fact that she wasn’t in her right mind. It was all very complicated.

Now you were about to go with Merlin to help fix Excalibur. You huddled up in a jacket that Douxie had found for you. It was freezing and the fog wasn’t helping.

Archie sat by you on the rail of the boat, gazing at the sea. “I try to avoid water.”

Steve came over to the two of you. “Personally, I always pack my swimsuit. Extra-personally, it's actually my birthday suit.”

You rolled your eyes at him then looked at Merlin. “When are we going to get there?”

“We’ll get there when we get there,” Merlin stated harshly.

“I was asking if I had time to check on my brother,” you responded, giving him a dead look. You had the patience to wait, you had taken a trip to the moon that had lasted forever without complaining after all.

“Ah, yes,” Merlin said and that was all the confirmation you needed before closing your eyes. You felt the shift and focused on what you remembered Jim’s aura to be like. When you opened your eyes you were no longer on a boat, but in a room.

You looked around and saw Jim, his friend, and...Blinky.

“Clearly he’s delusional,” Blinky was saying to Dictatious. He suddenly raised his hand and slapped Jim. “Snap out of it!”

“Ow!” Jim yelped as Blinky continued to slap him. “Blinky, it’s me, Jim!”

“‘Blinky’? For the last time, that’s Blinky’s Gakadrigal to you, outsider.”

“And my nightmare’s real,” Jim muttered.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Dictatious said, shaking Jims hand. “Forgive my brother. Your traveling companion was a little more hostile upon waking up.”

“I startle easy. That’s on you,” the other troll said.

Blinky began to rant and you snuck over to Jim. “Are you okay?” You whispered.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. How are you?” He whispered back.

“I’m alright, I’ll try to check in daily okay?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then. Stay safe.”

“You too.” You gave a small smile before returning back to your body and to the freezing cold boat.

“How is he?” Claire asked.

“He’s fine.” You chuckled. “He just met a very irritated Blinky.”

Claire smiled. “Good, I’m glad he’s safe.”

You were cut off from saying anything more when the boat turned the corner. You walked over to the edge of the boat by Douxie and saw a bunch of wrecked ships.

“Whoa, it's a ship graveyard,” Steve marveled.

“We've arrived,” Merlin announced.

“Huh. The Lady of the Lake is real! I thought she was just a myth,” Claire said.

Douxie smiled. “Oh, no, the Lady's very much real. Though, only Merlin's allowed to meet with her... until now.”

“Because her power is beyond your comprehension. It was from her mystic waters I helped Arthur first retrieve Excalibur and unite the kingdom. Hisirdoux, the sword please,” Merlin requested.

“Yeah! Quest, quest, quest, quest!” Steve chanted.

Merlin hopped off the ship and began to walk towards two face carvings. “Watch the ship. I shall return shortly.

“What? We have to wait in the car?” Steve whined.

“But I thought we were doing this together,” Douxie protested.

Merlin sighed. “You should be thanking me. I got you out of Camelot. Arthur's unstable and the people are afraid. And not only that, Y/n practically committed treason, so the less Arthur sees her the better.”

You smiled sheepishly as Douxie tried to go after Merlin. “I thought you trusted me. I won't just sit here without making things right!”

“And I will not lose another apprentice!” Merlin shouted and it echoed throughout the cave. Douxie took a step back and you grabbed onto his hand in silent comfort.

“Who dares to disturb my slumb-“ the door on the right asked suddenly asked and you jumped. Douxie chuckled at you and you gently elbowed him.

Merlin cut the door off. “It's me, Merlin. Open up, you idiots.”

“Oh, it is you! All right, walk in,” the other door said, sliding apart so Merlin could enter.

Douxie ran after him, but the doors slammed shut before he could get through.

“Lake's closed!” Righty said.

“None but the master wizard shall pass. No amateurs. That's you,” Lefty taunted.

Douxie stood back. “Causa crepitoose!” He yelled and a blue blast hit the doors, doing nothing

Righty laughed. “Is that all you got, punk?”

“Come on, get close so I can bite your legs off!” Lefty howled with laughter and you rolled your eyes.

“Come on, ignore them,” you said, leading Douxie over to Claire and Steve.

“Ugh! Merlin's magic is so annoying!” Claire groaned.

Douxie sighed. “The talking door is right. This sorcery's uncrackable.”

“Well, at least we don't have to see Steve's birthday suit,” Archie said optimistically.

“Too late! Whoo!” Steve yelled and you were glad he was by the water where you couldn’t see him.

“Oh, no! My eyes!”

“Oh, I can't unsee that now!”

The four of you minus Steve walked over to a grassy area and Archie helped you collect sticks. Once you assembled them he set them on fire.

“Thanks, Archie,” Douxie said, giving a small smile.

“Jeez, how long is Coach Wizard gonna take? It's been forever!” Steve whined, walking back to you.

“What if the old man needs our help?” Archie asked, curling up onto your lap. Even with the fire and your jacket you were still shivering.

You watched as Steve stood and charged at the doors, trying to scare them open. You weren’t surprised when it didn’t work.

“Uh, Open Sesame! Abracadabra! I'm begging you, man!” Steve tried after violence failed. “Hey, door dorks, open up!”

“Why don't you open up?” One of the doors mocked.

Steve huffed. “Maybe I will! So, I'm-I'm really scared that I won't be a good knight.”

“Well, you won't be, but don't be scared about it. You know, then you worry about, like, what is your purpose on this planet?” Lefty said.

You turned away from Steve to face the fire again. Douxie scooted close to you and wrapped his arm around you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, trying to hide your blush.

“You seemed cold, so...yeah,” Douxie explained.

You faded into silence, the only noise in the cavern was Steve’s therapy session with the doors.

Claire opened up her book on shadow magic and Douxie stood up excitedly. “Merlin doesn't know shadow magic. Claire! You could make a shadow portal and slip us right through!”

Claire hesitated. “I don't know, Douxie. I don't have my staff.”

“I've seen you do magic without it,” Douxie said.

“But Merlin said-“ Claire started.

“Merlin's not here,” Douxie countered and you noticed Claire’s aura twist with fear and anger.

You were about to tell Douxie to drop it when Claire yelled, “I don't wanna become her!”

She went to sit on the log by the fire. “What if the darkness takes over, like Morgana?” She asked. You walked over to her and gave her a hug.

“Claire, you are nothing like Morgana, you are way better,” you reassured her.

Douxie sighed, coming over. “Claire, look, I know you're scared, but you're not her. You can make the magic your own. I never had the gift for shadowmancy, but you do. You can do great and wondrous things. I've seen it.”

Claire sighed and nodded. “Okay, Douxie, I'll try. But I need you to walk me through the spell book, Teach. I don't speak Wizard-ese.”

Douxie shook his head and backed away. “You want me to teach? I'm not even a good student.”

“You've got that right.

“The worst!”

You glared at the doors. “Back off!��

“Quit it!” Claire snapped.

“Who asked you, knobhead?” Archie growled and you smiled a bit at how you all defended Douxie.

“Why are we yelling?” Steve cried.

You turned to Douxie. “Some of my favorite spells are the ones you taught me in Bulgaria, you’ll be a great teacher.”

Douxie laughed. “Right. Put your hands out like this. Beyond there is your destination, your emotional anchor.” He put his hands out and Claire mimicked him while you levitated the book in front of them.

“Got it,” Claire said.

Douxie nodded. “Then pull the magic around you. It will be your door to the Shadow Realm. That's it, that's it. Steady. Focus. Eyes on point, mind on anchor. You got this.”

“I'm scared,” Claire cried as the portal began to form. You saw how her aura twist and you began to sing a lullaby.

“Magic is emotion. Don't let fear control you. Use it! Stay true to yourself. That will protect you from the shadows,” Douxie encouraged and you saw Claire’s aura slowly start to go back to normal.

“Uh, Doux?” Claire asked, her aura suddenly twisting again.

“Don't be afraid, Claire. This is your magic. You can control it,” Douxie reassured. “Keep your eyes on point.”

Claire started panting and you tried to sing louder, but suddenly the portal rushed at her, taking her.

“Claire!” All of you screamed in unison.

“Doux, how do we bring her back?” Archie asked as Douxie flipped through the spell book.

“Hold on. I can figure this out. It's gonna be fine,” Douxie said, sounding anything but fine.

“Fine? Shadows just ate her alive, man! What are we gonna do?” Steve asked.

“We will figure something out,” you promised, already trying to hold your hands out like Claire had done. You may have not had the tolerance for shadow magic, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t perform it.

“Whoa, whoa, Y/n, stop,” Douxie said, rushing to stand in front of you. “You can’t do this, you’ll get sick again! There’s got to be another way!”

“I’m going to get her back,” you said. Your heart was racing with panic and you tried to take that fear and use it to bring Claire home. You focused and just when you felt the portal expand in front of you, Claire made her own. She dropped back into reality, right on Douxie and Steve.

“Are you hurt?” Archie asked Claire.

“Claire! Claire, are you all right?” Douxie asked, rushing to get up and help her.

“Give her some space,” Archie ordered.

“I saw her-a vision of Morgana!” Claire exclaimed.

“Oh, hot dang,” Steve whispered.

“Was it really her? Or was it guilt, or fear, or...“ Claire started.

“The Shadow Realm is a place of mystery. We understand if you don't want to go back in,” Douxie said.

“Yeah, shadow magic is nasty stuff,” you mumbled, swaying on your feet before crashing into Douxie.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Talk to me, Y/n,” Douxie begged.

You let out a string of coughs as Douxie helped you sit down by the fire. “I’ll be fine,” you promised.

“What happened?” Claire asked.

“Y/n used shadow magic again,” Douxie said and you could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I wasn’t gonna let Claire get stuck in the shadow realm. I knew what I was doing and I will be fine with a little rest and tea.”

“Mhmm,” Douxie mumbled, but he still seemed upset with you.

You sighed before turning to face Claire. “How do you feel about getting us past those doors? You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No. It's okay. I'll be all right. Thanks for talking me through it, Teach,” Claire said. “And thank you, Y/n, for trying to go in after me.”

You coughed. “Of course.”

Claire stood up and got ready to open a portal.

“No way this works, witchey!” Righty taunted.

“True.”

“Not your fault your teacher's a dunce.”

Douxie ignored them and you glared at them even though you were sure you just looked like an angry puppy with your watery eyes and runny nose wrapped in a large jacket.

“There is your anchor,” Douxie said, using magic to send a glowing blue orb towards the doors and past them.

“Let go of the fear,” Claire mumbled.

“No, no, don't do that,” Lefty said.

“Uh, no, no, no! Not good! Bad, bad idea!” Righty cried as a large shadow portal formed.

“Yes, yes, yes! Claire, you did it!” Douxie cheered.

“Yes! That's what I'm talking about! Shadow magic!” Claire celebrated.

“Whoo-hoo!” Steve shouted.

“Nice job Claire!” You smiled before coughing again.

“Wow, she picked that up fast.” Douxie grinned.

“She had a stellar teacher,” Archie praised.

Douxie smiled even wider. “What are we standing 'round for? That magical sword won't repair itself. Let's go! To the Lady!”

“Gentlemen, after you,” Claire said, gesturing for them to go into the portal. You went to walk into the portal, but Douxie stuck his hand out, blocking you.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Are you sure you should be traveling through a shadow portal right now?” Douxie asked.

“I’m fine and I’m not letting you go alone,” you argued.

Douxie opened his mouth to counter, “You’re sick and I’m plenty capable o-”

“I never said you weren’t capable, I’m just saying it doesn’t hurt to have back up. If you guys don’t come out later it will be a suiside mission for me to go in alone, but if I go in now we have each other's backs.”

Douxie slowly removed his arm and you felt bad about arguing with him. You walked through the portal and shivered, Douxie was right, it did make you feel worse and so, when you were out on the other side, you threw up. Thankfully Douxie didn’t see and so he didn’t force Claire to send you back.

“We made it!” Claire exclaimed as she walked through.

“Thanks to you.” Douxie smiled at her, creating a magic light.

Steve sniffed. “Ugh! This lake stinks like butt thunder!”

Douxie frowned. “I'd say we've arrived.”

“Yeah, but where's Merlin?” Claire asked.

“Gah!” Steve yelped as you heard wood creak near you. Douxie shined his light on a boat. It would have been already scary for an old piece of wood to be floating in the creepy lake, but this one had to have Excalibur on it, putting it on a whole other level.

“Uh, he can handle himself. L-Let's just stick to the plan and find the Lady. And everything will be fine,” Douxie reassured, not sounding at all confident. You walked over to him and he helped you onto the boat. You shivered and coughed and Douxie put his arm around you. You looked up at him, but he was looking ahead.

You knew you had worried him when you made the portal. You felt really bad that he seemed to be upset with you.

“What the...?” Steve screamed as lanterns on the boat posts lit up and you began to move. You huddled closer to Douxie who thankfully didn’t protest.

“Come on, Steve. Get it together. Knights don't scare,” he whispered to himself. You watched as the water in front of you began to glow and up rose a turquoise lady in an odd veil.

“It's... It's her!” Claire marveled.

“I am the Lady, Nimue, Eldest of Oracles. Why do you seek me?” She asked in a clear voice.

“Okay, everyone, just be nice to the goddess. I'll sort this,” Douxie cleared his throat. “Oh, mighty Lake Lady... we are here to request your aid.”

“And we're missing an old wizard, if you've seen one,” Archie added.

“I can give you what you seek,” Niue said.

Douxie took this as a sign and continued. “Only you can help us on our quest to fix Excalibur and save Camelot.”

“That is not which you truly desire.” She gestured to Douxie. “You seek redemption from a scorned mentor.” She moved to Claire. “Escape from guilt.” She went to Steve. “Validation of knighthood.” Finally she moved to you. “Safety for you and your friends.”

You sighed in relief when she didn’t say ‘Douxie’ or something embarrassing. You had half expected her to say Mao, though, you really missed the kitten.

She moved on to Archie next, but she seemed to hesitate with him. “And you seek...roasted salmon?”

“Guilty,” Archie admitted.

“What? Come on, Arch!” Douxie glared at his familiar, but turned his attention back to Nimue as the boat rocked.

Nimue moved away from the boat. “You are not the first to try and deceive me. You are not worthy!”

“Uh, guys…” Claire panicked as the water around you began to bubble.

“Uh, Mr. Magic Man?” Steve asked.

“That is no lady!” Douxie yelped as tentacles came out of the water.

“You seek, you take, and all receive their final reward,” Nimue rasped in a gravelly voice.

“Time to prove my knightly skills. I'll protect thou-thee. Uh, huzzah! Huh?” Steve screamed as Nimue picked him up and dropped him in her mouth.

“Steve!” You all cried.

“Now, onto your rewards,” Nimue threatened.

“Y/n, get out of here now, you’re not fit to fight,” Douxie said, trying to persuade you.

“Not without you,” you responded, shielding all of you as one of her tentacles whapped the boat.

“Such puny creatures make tasty meals,” Nimue laughed, a tentacle wrapped around Douxie and you yelped, doing your best to blast it without hurting him. Douxie reacted though, cutting her with what was left of Excalibur.

“I hate to say it, but perhaps we should've stayed in the ship!” Archie called as he flew around breathing fire on Nimue.

“We need to subdue her so she'll fix Excalibur!” Douxie said. Once Archie was back on the boat you and Douxie worked together to send the boat backwards, rocketing away from Nimue. Archie helped by sending fire.

“We need to get Steve out of this seaside freak show!” Claire countered.

“Oh, fuzz buckets.” Douxie cursed as the Lake Lady rose up infront of your boat again. Douxie sent a blast at her. She retaliated by ripping a piece of the ceiling off and hurtling it towards the boat. Thankfully you and Douxie reacted fast. The chuck of ceiling glowed orange and blue and

“You've been a very bad Lake Lady!” Douxie yelled as you rammed the pillar at her stomach.

You watched as Merlin and Steve fell out and you did your best to cast a spell that would slow their fall.

“Oh! Hey, I-- I did it. I'm a hero,” Steve slurred before collapsing.

“My revenge tasted so sweet,” Nimue groaned.

Douxie scoffed. “Wait, revenge? What revenge?”

“You attacked us, lady!” Claire yelled.

You opened your mouth to add your own retort, but you stopped when you noticed symbols around the cavern. They were written in green magic, Merlin’s green magic.

“Long ago, I gave him the blade, but he imprisoned me here in this cave without hope,” Nimue explained.

“Wait, Merlin trapped you here?” Douxie asked, shocked. You went to grab his hand.

Nimue roared. “Now my prison will be your tomb!”

“Take her down, man, or we're all gonna get dead!” Steve cried.

“But who'll repair Excalibur, Douxie?” Archie asked.

“Well, she's not going to! What do we do, Douxie?” Claire asked and you sensed Douxie begin to have a panic attack. You smiled at him and squeezed his hand and he smiled back.

His decision was made and you watched as he raised the broken Excalibur and blue lightning coursed up it. “Tenebris exilium!” Douxie shouted, throwing the sword at the wall. It shattered, creating a way for Nimue to leave.

“Wait, you let that tentacle lady bounce?” Steve asked, you looked back to him, he was clutching a tooth next to an unconscious Merlin.

“And destroyed Excalibur?” Archie stated.

Douxie looked away. “What are you waiting for? Just go! I may not know how to fix this...” he sighed, “but I do know that you shouldn't be stuck in here.”

Nimue hesitated. “You are... different. You are kind. This gift must be repaid. The sword was meant for those worthy. Do good with it.”

The way the lady phrased that made you pause. Nimue never said he should give it to Arthur, she told Douxie to ‘do good with it.’ You put that thought aside and focused on what was happening.

“I shall return it to its rightful place. Thank you, Scary Monster Lake Lady,” Douxie said.

Steve waved goodbye as Nimue left. “Good-bye! Sorry I almost slayed you, Monster Lady!”

Merlin coughed. “Hisirdoux, what have you done? Uh... oh. Is that Excalibur?”

Douxie smiled proudly. “Indeed. I've resecured Camelot's stability, just as you'd planned.”

Merlin looked around, getting his bearings. “Ah. We must return to Camelot, where we will discuss your blunders later.”

Claire nudged Douxie. “Nice work, Teach.”

“And I got a monster trophy! Whoo! Quest!” Steve whooped.

~~~~

It was a day later when Arthur threw a ball. The next day there was to be a tournament. It was supposed to be a ball of mourning and everyone was dressed up.

When you had gotten back from your quest Douxie had given you some tea and you were feeling much better, though you knew you and your friends were still in trouble. One of the many things troubling you was how Douxie seemed upset with you. It was hard to tell, but you could sense some sort of underlying anger or something at you. But it could just be all in your head. After all, He had found the gorgeous black dress you were wearing.

It was stunning, with silver embroidery along the skirt and over deep black silk. You felt absolutely amazing, you just wished the dress wasn’t for a funeral. It was your first ball and it was one of mourning.

You looked at the crowd at the courtiers. Many of them didn’t look to be in mourning. You had stopped reading their auras long ago, but those you had read didn’t seem too upset by the death of Morgana. They were only excited about the return of Excalibur and what that meant to them.

You were only at the ball because Arthur wasn’t going to be there. Merlin was still concerned that you’d get in trouble if Arthur saw you.

Many people tried to talk to you. It was the court gossip that Merlin had taken a new apprentice, and people wanted to know everything about you. It was kinda funny watching people fawn over your lies.

You looked around for Douxie, maybe less people would ask you to dance if you could find him. Steve was off doing knight stuff and you didn’t know where Claire was.

You made your way through the room, eventually realizing that Douxie wasn’t there. It made sense, even though he was proud of himself for getting Excalibur, he was upset that he hadn’t saved Morgana.

Once you were out of the ballroom, you began reading auras again. It would be easier to find Douxie that way.

It was like deja vu searching for him through the castle just like you had done on your first day in Camelot. It felt like forever since then, so much had changed.

You finally found him in the gardens, an area of the palace that you had never been to. “Hey,” you called, walking over to him. You could hear the music from the ballroom and you realized that you were right below it.

“Y/n,” Douxie said and you took a step back, he still seemed to be kind of upset with you.

“Douxie, I know you’re not happy with me,” you started, “but I made the choice to use shadow magic. I knew what I was doing.”

“I’m sorry if I came across as upset. I was just scared and it’s terrifying to see you so sick, it’s like I could lose you any second.”

You gave an understanding smile. “I’m sorry about that, but you know what, you need to relax. You have so much on your shoulders, you should have some fun tonight. This is my first ball and I want to enjoy it.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet. Grabbing his other hand you began to dance. The song that was playing was clearing one that you would waltz to and you were glad you knew how.

“I’m so sorry I pulled you into this,” Douxie said, twirling you.

You shook your head. “You do know I had magic long before I met you and that my brother was fated to be the Trollhunter, right?”

“Well, yeah, but I got you stuck in the past.” He lifted you in an arch and you smiled brightly.

“No...a piece of ice from the Arcane order did that. You need to stop blaming yourself for everything Douxie. I know things are bad, but we will find a way to fix them.”

Douxie looked ready to argue with you, but instead he leaned forward, it was a good second before you realized what he was doing and you moved to close the gap.

It was definitely something to be kissing Hisirdoux Casperan, something wonderful. It was so full of love and you smiled into it. It was a sweet little kiss, filled with the promise of more. And it was all too soon though when you broke apart.

“So, uh, that happened,” Douxie stuttered.

“I’m glad something happened,” you heard Archie mumble and you twirled around to see the familiar sitting on the bench, you hadn’t known he was there. “It’s been painfully obvious that you two like each other from the moment I met you.”

You laughed a little. “Huh, that obvious?”

“Very.”

****

Tada! I really hope y’all liked it and are excited for more. I have no clue when more is gonna happen, but it will happen soon. I have a fun idea for chapter 19.5! Anyways, thank you all so much for all the kind comments and I hope you have a fantastically safe and wonderful day!!

P.S. if you want to be on the taglist feel free to ask. I hope it works and please message me if it doesn’t.

#douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan x reader #hisirdoux x reader #wizards imagine #trollhunters imagine #toa imagine #tales of arcadia imagine #douxie #toa douxie #wizards douxie #hisirdoux casperan #trollhunters #trollhunters douxie #toa #tales of arcadia #tales of arcadia douxie #wizards #fire keeper

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rachel-matteo-merlin-recs · 3 years

Text

Canon Era - Single Fic Arcs

Rheged

Author: McShame

Description:

Post S5 (AU): canon to the end of S4 & part of the way through S5.

Gwen and Arthur have been married for several years, Merlin’s magic has been revealed and Arthur has now reached a kind of cold peace with it. Then a delegation arrives from a kingdom based on magic, and suddenly Destiny is starkly and ruthlessly thrust to the fore. The question is should - can - it be avoided?

Word Count: 124,383

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Definitely might want to pay attention to the tags on this one; one scene can be interpreted both as dubious consent (but more like a I want this, but I can’t do this type of situation), as well as mentions of infidelity and attempted suicide by magic because Merlin just doesn’t want to deal with the fallout and aftermath of his and Arthur’s actions and the consequences it has on their relationships with Gwen and Gwaine. But if you can handle the rough spots, this fic is truly spectacular.

Whispering Your Name

Author: CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Description:

A different take on the dorocha. Instead of them being faceless screams that attack you, they are actually figures of the dead. Merlin doesn’t quite realize how much death affected him until him and the knights go to close the veil.

Word Count: 22,517

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of my absolute favorite fics of all time. It also has a bit of Uther redemption in it and Lancelot lives! It also has one of my favorite interactions in a fanfiction:

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arthur growled, throwing up his hands. “That thing murdered my people and you allowed it to live--”

“You murdered my people and I allowed you to live,” Merlin said sharply. Gwaine felt his eyes widen. Bold words. Part of him wanted to ‘ooh’ at it but knew it would lead to a very bad outcome.

Dower the Stars

Author: RurouniHime

Description:

During a time of great prosperity in Albion, the Druids offer Emrys a precious gift. Arthur is not amused.

Word Count: 40,654

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

A super fun but also very romantic fic. Druids far and wide come in and kiss Merlin, hoping that their magic will react a certain way with Merlin’s and he’ll bond with one of them. Merlin however decides to throw a wrench in his plan when he chooses to bond with Arthur instead after almost losing him.

Overstepping

Author: Masked_Mayhem

Description:

Merlin knew he was pushing his limits, that he was millimetres away from overstepping the invisible line that Arthur had wordlessly set and the warlock had been careful not to cross, but he was never one to listen to the rules that were set for him. Especially not when he was afraid.

Agravaine had managed to weasel his way into his king’s mind and ingrain doubts in the people he loved, the people that loved him...doubts that only took place and bloomed as the traitor lied and deceived and planted things against them. He had gotten rid of Gwen easily enough, and had almost gotten rid of Gaius. Merlin was afraid. Were a few words and items all it would take for Arthur to turn against him too?

Word Count: 51,915

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin steps over a line and Arthur punishes him for it. Later, when Merlin was right, Arthur regrets his decision and saves him. Romance blooms between the two, but a wrench gets thrown in along the way with the reveal of Merlin’s magic and deeds in Arthur’s name. There is a lot of angst, but I like to feel as if it’s a happy ending for the two.

Springes to Catch Woodcocks

Author: myashke

Description:

When Arthur pushes Merlin away to protect him, what lengths will Merlin go to remain in his life

Word Count: 83,292

Completed: No

Comment(s):

Unfortunately the only negative that this fic has going for it is that it doesn’t seem as if it’ll ever be finished. There are 7 chapters and they were last updated in December of 2011. Still worth the read.

Two Souls

Author: Naelyn

Description:

A few days after Camlann, Merlin and Morgana find themselves imprisoned in the same place, and forced to spend their days together. Basically, this is just a pretext for non-stop Merlin and Morgana interaction once the Emrys reveal has been made.

“I’ve gone soft over the day, you know. A few months ago, I would have killed you where you stood.”

“A few months ago, you did try to kill me where I stood,” Merlin reminded her, and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

Word Count: 11,417

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of the only fics on this list that won’t be specifically a Merthur fic; but it still isn’t Mergana either. The idea is that after the revelation at Camlann, one can assume that Arthur lived and that Morgana wasn’t killed; that Merlin had been banished or sent away for the lies he told and somehow was subsequently captured.

What starts out as a hostile interactions between Merlin and Morgana leads to understanding and apologies that lead on a path to healing. The end is left open ended, it’s implied that they are sent to their deaths in another kingdom without hope of being rescued, but you can use your imagination to decide if you wanted them to have a happier ending.

The Patter of Tiny Feet on Cold Stone Floors

Author: TheAvalonian

Description:

When Guinevere finds that she is unable to bear Arthur a child, Merlin offers her the perfect solution: an ancient spell which can create new life out of love, if that love is pure and powerful enough. But after the ritual, it becomes increasingly obvious that while Gwen has indeed become pregnant, the child she carries might not have been created from the love between Arthur and his wife - but rather from the love between Arthur and his Court Sorcerer.

Word Count: 79,131

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin and Arthur have a baby! But it’s not an mpreg fic. Guinevere discovers that Arthur and Merlin are more tied together than she and Arthur are - and while that is difficult for her to come to terms with, she concedes that Arthur has the chance that she never had with Lancelot and doesn’t want to stand in the way. Queue of course evil plotting on behalf of Morgana and a kidnapping of the queen and princess - who happens to have shown gifts of her own - and it’s a rollercoaster of a tale that leaves you wanting more.

Metamorphose

Author: clotpolesonly

Description:

When Merlin falls into bed with Arthur, he doesn’t expect to wake up alone. He doesn’t expect Arthur to give him the cold shoulder either, but there is something else he expects even less which forces him out of the kingdom for over a year.

He returns to find a traitor in the court, an army on the way, and a love he’d thought all but lost waiting for him with open arms.

Word Count: 33,753

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

I don’t usually enjoy mpreg fics because they don’t make sense to me from a biological stand point and usually get explained away as “because reasons”. This fic is an exception, it does a good job of explaining why it is that Merlin might wound up in his situation and it deals with difficult question about how to handle the knowledge and who to share it with.

Flowers in the Wind

Author: the_seaworthy_muffin

Description:

A thousand and five-hundred years ago, Arthur Pendragon is sent to the god Emrys as Camelot’s yearly tribute. He comes to befriend the god, and as the prince continues to spend time on the god’s island, something more seems to blossom between them. But then the Lady Morgana goes missing, and Arthur betrays Emrys to his father in a moment of misguided trust. Emrys’ island burns, the heart-broken god refusing to fight for his life. In dying, he puts a terrible curse upon the prince: to live forever, and never forget.

A millennium and a half has passed. Arthur is being slowly torn apart from the inside-out, memories of the past an ever-growing weight in his chest. When he finally finds Emrys again, he is elated - he’s ready to beg, weep, anything, if only he can find blissful forgetfulness. But while the god’s power has not faded, his memories have, and he lives his life as young artist Merlin Emrys, believing himself to be a simple man with interesting gifts. And Arthur’s hopes are dashed. But there is one last way: Arthur can try, and make Merlin remember again.

Word Count: 67,366

Completed: No - but it is being continuously updated

Comment(s):

This is a truly spectacular work of fiction and I almost didn’t give it a chance. I am so glad that I did. Honestly, this is now one of my favorite authors on AO3.

Peace, Plum, Pear

Author: sweetestdrain

Description:

How in his tenth year of rule King Arthur chose a man to take the role of Court’s Magician, and how Arthur made his decision.

Word Count: 13,700

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin fled the kingdom after Uther found out about his magic, and now it’s been ten years since the old king’s death and Arthur’s ascension to the throne, and yet Merlin is still nowhere to be found.

Arthur gives in and holds trials for the new Court Sorcerer and in walks in an old man named Myrddin Wyllt. But, there’s more than meets the eye to this strange and mysterious magician.

Deluge

Author: Suaine

Description:

In the aftermath of Merlin’s battle against Nimueh, the rain seems a minor complication, perhaps even a cleansing influence. When the rain doesn’t stop, Camelot is pushed to the brink once more. This time, Arthur may be in over his head.

Contains: a lot of wet boys in emotional scenes, Arthur knowing more than he lets on, Merlin being an idiot, both of them being a bit stupidly heroic, telepathic chess, rain (lots of), war, making out against a tree, coincidental druids, co-opted history, co-opted myths, magic, coming of age (metaphorically), and more magically annoying yet surprisingly un-floody water than you can shake a stick at.

Word Count: 50,565

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beautifully written fic, truly a great addition to the fandom.

Idiosyncratic Romance

Author: F0rcryinoutloud

Description:

“And what about your destiny?” Gaius asked softly. “Merlin, you know Arthur needs you - whether he realizes it or not. You won’t have to hide from him forever.”

Word Count: 13,942

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beauty in the Ashes of our Lives

Author: Fulgance

Description:

After Merlin is executed for Uther’s murder, Arthur’s world falls apart.

Word Count: 21,599

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Arthur makes a huge mistake when he executes Merlin following the reveal of his magic.

Tiercel

Author: waldorph

Description:

Arthur is constantly at war.

Word Count: 6,571

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

This is a wonderful magic reveal fic where Merlin goes out and discovers more about magic while still taking care of Arthur and protecting him; Arthur is constantly at war because Uther has decided he wants to take over and unite Albion.

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booleman · 4 years

Text

merlin WIP that’s been in my docs for too long and I need to share it

Arthur watched the young knight with pride in his eyes. Since he made Mordred one of his knights, the druid had shown a great improvement in the art of the sword, visible by everyone – Merlin being one of them, even if he still didn’t trust the boy, the Seer’s words being the reason why. Just after the knight was shoved on the ground, the King found the right to add: «You are getting good, Mordred, very good.»

Blushing, the younger person on the training field murmured something in the lines of “my lord”, while the King decided that the best remark had to be a chuckle. «I may have to start trying soon.»

Merlin decided that it was the right moment to save his kin from Arthur’s ego, so he got up from his usual place and, clapping, he asked: «My lord?»

Arthur ignored him, too much invested in trying to make Mordred understand why he lost the friendly duel, so the former manservant just went away, the sassy remark almost urging to come out, deciding that this war was not worthy of care; he just went straight to his chambers.

──────────

«Did you see how Mordred used a contre quarte to my high-line attack? It was a very skilful move, really!» the King started, trying to put his beloved one in a talkative mood. When Merlin didn’t respond, he decided to add: «You do understand what a contre quarte is, right?»

Merlin rolled his eyes, but responded nonetheless: «At a guess, a type of parry, beginning in the quarte position, ending with a twist of the wrist.» At this Arthur smiled, a smile he reserved just to his lover when he was trying to make fun of him. «You have been paying attention, then. What do you think of young Mordred?»

Merlin tried to hide his disappointment at the turn this conversation was having.

«He’s, er, making progress,» he said while sitting on the bed, resting his head on the King’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. The latter smiled, and put a hand on Merlin’s hair, stroking them gently. «He has all the makings of a fine knight, don’t you think?»

The warlock stayed silent for a while, closing his eyes to better feel the vicinity of Arthur, a thing he loved to do since the early days of their courting. In the end, he settled down with a fact, instead of an opinion: «There are many fine knights in Camelot.»

Arthur smiled, calmly, playing with his lover’s hair for the last time before finally getting up to go and participate in the Council’s meeting. «Yes, but if I’m not mistaken, he’ll be one of the finest, and I’m determined he’ll receive nothing but encouragement from me.»

Merlin shrugged, succeeding in stealing a kiss from Arthur’s lips before the two of them had to leave the bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t going to be a bad day after all.

──────────

Arthur was bored to death in the Council chambers, that until Leon spoke up to divulge what the Eastern border’s report said.

«Serious news, I'm afraid, Sire. As you know, a few days ago, our garrison in the Forest of Brechfa intercepted the man who goes by the name of Osgar,» the knight said, watching every one of the men’s faces pale at the sorcerer’s name, even though they weren’t aware of his true power.

He stayed still for a moment, letting the nobles take the information in and digest it, and he started speaking only after what seemed like an eternity: «They were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape. I am sorry to report... Sir Ranulf was mortally wounded.»

Some of the Council’s men gasped, a bunch of them because they knew Sir Ranulf, the others because of the brutality the Camelotian knight was speaking of.

This time it was the King’s burden to break the silence, with just a few words for the guard’s captain: «Place all the men in the Eastern territories on high alert.»

Leon nodded his heart heavy with the loss of a loyal brother in arms such as Ranulf. At the umpteenth Council’s silence, the King spoke up again, his eyes searching Merlin’s ones in the room. «I personally shall lead a patrol to bring this Osgar to justice.»

The warlock bit his lip for a while, afraid to speak up in front of the people who were more likely to judge him, even if he was, by all means, the King’s Consort. «Is it necessary for you to go in person?» he asked just to have the answer he was preparing himself to. «He wasn't just a knight, Merlin, he was a friend. We knew each other as boys, I must go. Have no fear, for I will be perfectly safe. As you said before, I have many fine knights.»

Merlin nodded, not completely sure, just a bit before the Council’s meeting met its end.

──────────

In the King’s chambers, Merlin was trying to pack for the quest, while Arthur was pacing in the room. The only sound was the one made by his boots hitting the floor and, when someone knocked at the door, the two of them almost jumped out of their skins.

When Mordred came in, Merlin relaxed just a bit and decided to sit on the bed, almost to remind the people in the room that it was his, too. The young knight disposed of Merlin’s behaviour as normal Emrys’s jealousy and went on about the reason why he came into the room. «Your Majesty? You wished to see me?»

Arthur finally stopped pacing and, after seeing his Consort on the bed, decided to keep his standing position. «The time has come for you to accompany your King.»

Mordred raised an eyebrow, not completely sure of the extent of Arthur’s request, trying to find his lord’s eyes in the room. No matter what level the hatred between the two was, Mordred often found in Emrys’ facial features the meaning to go on. «My lord?» he said, in the end, unsure if he was speaking to Merlin or Arthur.

Neither of them answered right away, and the knight found himself more unsure than before. Was he being rejected by both of the people whom he swore fidelity to?

Arthur’s answer was the first one to come, while Merlin was still thinking about what was the best thing to say to the druid. While he was proud of him, being a knight and a skilled magician, the prophecy was still something that Merlin couldn’t ignore. «I want you to join me on a patrol to the Black Mountains.»

Mordred’s eyes lightened up, and he didn’t even try to hide the smile that found home on his lips just after. «Me? To Brechfa?» he asked, eyeing Merlin eagerly awaiting for his approval. The latter nodded, though nobody but Mordred saw that, and this just made his smile grow bigger.

I’ll watch every move of yours, said Merlin, his voice clear in the druid’s mind. Even if I can’t trust you yet, you have earned your place. Be ready to ride at dawn.

The knight bowed, to both of his lords, murmuring something in the lines of “I shall be, my lord. You won’t regret this. I promise” while exiting the room, the excitement obvious on his face.

«He has all the makings of an excellent knight,» said Arthur, finally eyeing the bed, a little smile on his lips. He laid down, waiting for Merlin to do the same. When the warlock did that, Arthur wrapped him in a hug, his lips fast on his lover’s temple. «I do believe you’ve grown fond of him,» Merlin said, his body pressed against Arthur’s, his hand on the King’s cheek, yet completely still.

«He’s a good fighter, a brave knight,» Arthur tried to answer, and Merlin just nodded, trying to find something to say as a remark. «He’s young.»

Arthur wanted to say something like “so were you when you came here”, but the words died in his mouth. Thinking about the time Merlin had to live under his father’s reign – under the promise of a public execution as a sorcerer – made him feel bad. Made him think about the fact that almost three years into his reign, he still hadn’t repealed the ban against magic.

«Where would any of us be, Merlin, if no one had given us a chance?» he said, then, feeling his Consort squeezing a little against him, and tucking their blankets in.

«You should sleep,» said Merlin, and Arthur did just that, giving himself to Morpheus without resistance.

──────────

Merlin fidgeted with the ring on his finger, the one Hunith gifted him when Arthur proposed. It was one of her most important possessions since it had been Balinor’s before, but she decided that if her little bird was to marry, he needed to have something to remember him of home.

He smiled at the memory, gripping the reigns of the brown mare he was mounting a little steadier.

Meanwhile, Leon and the other knights were having fun with the new knight – something they always did, to ensure that the bond between the Knights of Camelot was at every time forged in the best of friendships. «You sure you haven't forgotten anything, Mordred?»

Mordred paled at this, mainly because he didn’t want to disappoint Arthur nor Merlin, and asked, agitated: «D’you think so?»

At this, the others tried to hide their smirks and started to list things that the druid most certainly didn’t forget.

«Isn't he missing a dagger?» came the voice of Leon, the noble sure on his horse.

«I can't see a water bottle,» remarked Elyan, the smile badly hidden on his lips.

«His boot. He's missing a boot,» decided Percival in the end, finally making all of the knights laugh, and Mordred repeated to himself that those were Emrys’ friends, and he shouldn’t kill them.

«Gentlemen,» said Arthur in the end, his voice putting an end at the knights’ banter.

«Merlin?» asked Gwen, her new dress – acquired when she became the Kings’ First Advisor – gentle on her body, the gryffin pin that symbolized Lancelot’s knighthood fierce just upon her heart. The warlock turned to her, his expression unsure, as he didn’t want to go. «You will take care of him?»

Merlin smiled the thin layer of red cloth which his cloak was made of shamelessly flattering behind him and the fact that his friends knew of some of his birth gifts making his heart light. «He doesn't always make it easy,» was what he said, even though he nodded, trying not to think about all those times when he almost lost him.

She responded with a smile and a whispered “I know”, which was Merlin’s clue to follow the men and take his rightful place next to the King.

──────────

«It is a tradition,» said Leon, almost immediately finding Elyan to buck him up with: «Goes back years.»

Percival couldn’t resist, so he added, smiling: «We all had to do it on our first patrol.»

At this Arthur turned around and, seeing his youngest knight sat backwards on his horse, couldn’t find a way to repress a laugh. «Mordred, what on earth are you doing?» he asked, his words making Merlin turn too. At the warlock’s attempt at hiding a laugh, Mordred decided that killing the Camelotians knights was the only intelligent thing to do.

«Melding the saddle, my lord,» said the druid, his cheeks red and his voice unsure, feeling a little calmer when Gwaine said: «As in the ancient tradition... of melding.»

Arthur chuckled softly, the words leaving his mouth before he could think of stopping them. «Of course. I trust your breeches are on inside out?»

At this Merlin let the mask he wore just for the Council’s men fall, a brief smile on his lips and, his blue eyes shining in the light. Arthur replied with just a smile, full of love and devotion, things Merlin never thought he’d have seen in an Arthur who was aware of his magic.

Not that Arthur knew everything, like the talk he had with his father’s spirit about his magic, or the fact that he, indeed, had known his father. Those were pieces of information that were futile for the King’s wellbeing, so they were unimportant and mostly overlooked by the warlock himself.

──────────

Gwaine raised a hand in the sky, the “stop” signal easily for everyone to interpret. At the questioning look on his lord’s face, his response was just: «It's Osgar. He's close.»

Percival nodded and after he found a piece of cloth, said: «He’s getting careless.»

While Arthur examined the fabric in his hands, Mordred went just a little forward and, with his sword raised, asked: «Sire?»

Arthur turned in the druid’s direction, all of this while Merlin was carefully controlling the situation, staying just behind them. They saw the sorcerer moving in the wood and, without wasting time, they ran after him, two by two until Gwaine and Elyan found him sitting on a fallen tree and drinking from his waterskin.

The drunken knight approached him silently, taking the sword out of the sheath without a sound, while the blacksmith’s son followed him not long after. In the end, it was Gwaine who broke the silence, making the sorcerer turn. «Who are you? What's your purpose?» he said, his sword fiercely on his dominant hand.

Osgar got up, his face emotionless, and said: «I was beginning to fear you had taken the wrong path,» thing that made Gwaine repeat his question, his voice just a little bit high. «Who are you?»

At the obvious last chance to make the encounter remain peaceful, the sorcerer decided to oblige the knight’s request. «My name is Osgar. And I have an important message for your King. Take me to him.»

Elyan moved a bunch of steps forward, and responded with: «It’ll be our pleasure,» pointing his sword at the sorcerer’s throat. At this, Osgar responded with: «do you not know who I am?»

Gwaine decided to take the floor and said: «you are a sorcerer, a heretic and a murderer,» words that made Osgar shake his head and say: «No. Just a man who values his freedom. Take me to your King,» he made the knights lower their swords, a thing that, of course, the two found wrong, seeing that they raised them again. At this the man lost his patience and, hands raised before him, said: «Would you challenge me?», while the knights’ swords flew from their hands. Gwaine was quicker than him, and so his dagger was stuck in the man’s stomach before he had the mind to pronounce any kind of enchantment.

Osgar bent over, his hand on his side, trying to stop the bleeding. The knights moved forward to see the damage the dagger did and, taking advantage of this, the sorcerer cried: «Forth fleoge!», making the knights fall backwards in the wood.

Osgar then got up again, his face a display of the pain he was feeling, but walking in the rest of the party’s direction nonetheless. He found what he was looking for seconds after, in the silhouettes of Mordred, Merlin and Arthur, turned with their back on him. As a stick broke under his feet, the three of them turned quickly, their red cloaks were long forgotten on the back of their horses.

Arthur shouted a “stop”, while he and his two magical protectors walked forward to the sorcerer, who knelt on the forest floor. «Sire... My name is Osgar,» he said, his head down.

Merlin watched him eagerly, studying every one of his movements as his King was slowly getting closer to him. After a few seconds, Arthur answered, «I know who you are,» while pointing his sword at the man’s throat, just to feel safe.

Osgar changed his expression from a pained one to an almost fierce one, the fact that he was speaking in the Triple Goddess’ blessing helping him find the courage to do so. «I am sent from the sacred Disir to pass judgement on Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King.»

Mordred responded, without skipping a beat, the fact that he had once been a druid being the reason why he was the only one who knew what the Disir represented: «What right have you to pass judgement?»

The sorcerer looked at Mordred strangely, as he was asking himself why a being who smelled like magic was loyal to a Pendragon when his sixth sense made him feel the vicinity of his deity’s child, the one the humans had taken pleasure in calling “Emrys”. He nodded, at this, even though it wasn’t meant for anyone. It made sense that magical people were drawn to other magical people, especially if the second type were as powerful as a God’s child.

«No man is above the Disir - however royal,» he then said, making Mordred lower his sword. «I must pass their judgement on to you, dread King. My sacred duty.» As he said this, he put his hand inside his cloak, just to get something. Mordred moved closer to the man, threatening him with his sword, now raised again. The sorcerer got a coin-shaped token out of his pocket, which both the King and the Consort watched as closely as possible, with ruins on it. At his King’s stare, Mordred lowered his sword again.

«Your hand... Arthur Pendragon,» said Osgar, and waited for the King of Camelot to reveal his gloved hand before putting the token on it. As he tried to not fall on the floor, blood loss being the reason, he murmured ”it is done”, words at which Arthur responded with a questioning: «What is the meaning of this?»

Osgar took a moment to think about the answer, sure that only the truth was going to satisfy the King’s need to understand. After a bunch of seconds, he spoke, his blue eyes pointed in Merlin’s cerulean ones: «It is both judgement and fate. You have waged war on the people of the Old Religion. Now the ancient gods answer you. The Disir has spoken. The circle of fate begins to close. For even as Camelot flowers, the seeds of her destruction are being sown.»

The warlock’s response was to raise an eyebrow, for he knew who his mother was, even though they didn’t have a real bond these days, and he knew that her hand was behind all this.

Arthur turned his head to Merlin, who was slightly behind him, as he saw that the sorcerer was speaking to him in particular, and asked: «What nonsense is this?»

Osgard took Arthur’s hand in his and, trying not to be impressed by the amount of power Emrys had unleashed just to frighten him, spoke again: «It is not too late, Arthur. Not too late to find the true path. Redeem yourself. No further chance shall be given,» falling on the ground just after, dead on the spot.

──────────

Merlin was piling stones one upon the other, his gaze lowered and what seemed similar to a prayer leaving his lips. As he heard Mordred approach, his work stopped, and his face suddenly snapped up to the druid’s direction. «What would the King say, Merlin? Sorcerers are not permitted marked graves. Not officially.»

The Consort frowned a bit, then released a quite shaky breath. «What Arthur doesn’t see can’t hurt him. And he’ll come around, eventually, just- give him time. You would have done the same.» At the misplaced druid’s apologies, Merlin shook his head, waiting for the rest of Mordred’s words that came into the form of: «He was one of us, after all. D’you really believe that?»

Merlin nodded, his -too-long- hair falling right in his eye. He thought of the last time he cut them- Arthur was the one that did it, his hands secure on the scissors and his fingertips cold that made him laugh so much. And now they were going to have a conversation with the Disir, and the Disir was going to tell everyone the truth. And there would be no more laughing alone on the big bed of the Kings’ bedroom.

«One day we’ll live in freedom again,» he said, his voice secure and just a tiny flick of power in his words to ease the young druid’s spirit. «Until then,» replied Mordred, his voice unsure but still less scared than before, «we go unmarked in death as in life.»

#word count: 3k+#merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #merthur fic #My WIP #wip #the disir #boolscanon #boolswriting

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planetsam · 4 years

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This fic is dark so please proceed with caution. i’m posting here after a few requests for it, but there isn’t enough room in the tags for the trigger warnings. But it deals with very mature themes. Things come in threes.

The mother, the father, the sword.

The friend, the foe, the father.

The water, the arrows, the blood.

She counts three heartbeats before her eyes close in the red. She counts to three before she opens them to the stones on the beach. Three coughs for the water in her lungs, three breaths for air to be sweet again. There’s three people inside her. The girl, the summoner—and whatever she is now. She doesn’t know but she knows she isn’t the same.

It takes three days to escape and three weeks to find them. She expects no celebrations, her joy at her people has always been her own. The unease has turned to horror. Hands move towards weapons, eyes look anywhere but don’t meet her own. It’s only Pym who pushes past her fear, who hesitates only a moment before throwing her arms around her.

“Thank the Gods your back,” she whispers.

Nimue doesn’t know what Gods would do this, but they aren’t the kind you thank with things like words or belief.

“You’re dripping,” Squirrel says when he sees her, direct as always.

“I drowned,” Nimue says. Her voice hurts from disuse.

“Are you a monster now?” He asks. She shrugs, she doesn’t know. She thinks she might be.

“Squirrel,” Pym scolds.

“It’s alright,” Nimue rasps, “is it wrong if I am?”

“No,” he says, “you’re not wrong.”

It takes her three seconds to realize she’s forgotten how to smile.

Arthur holds her for three wonderful heartbeats. He smells of earth and Folk and Nimue is so glad to be in his arms. Any remnants of her heart are with her people and he has kept them safe, as he promised he would. His front is dark when she pulls back. She wonders in how many ways has she stained him? He doesn’t let her go. He strokes her cheek with the back of his hand. He calls her his. The fear in his eyes he pushes past, the fear makes her love him more.

“Thank you,” she says, “beloved.”

“My Lady.”

Three steps.

She sees him out of the corner of her eye.

Three steps, three breaths, three seconds. He’s fast but the dark is easy for her now. She’s not expecting him to throw it back at her. Her surprise is not enough to catch her off guard. Her magic is stronger, she throws him about and pins him down. She replaces each vine he cuts twice over. If she is a monster let her be the Hydra. Let her overwhelm him until there is nothing but his foul memory. Their eyes lock as she relieves him of his weapons and pins his arms. People are yelling but she holds them back and advances on him. She wants to see the fear he’s inflicted. She wants to see him hurt.

“You were right to hunt me,” she whispers, crawling vines across his skin and up his throat,, “you should have been better at it,” she looks at the patches of green that follow her vines, “you aren’t the first Fey to be scared of me.”

“No,” he rasps.

“No?” She mocks, “I can feel your pulse racing,” she leans closer, “I smell it,” she inhales, “it smells like—“

Everything goes green.

Then black.

It takes her three breaths to open her eyes. For the first time since she drowned, she feels warm. It almost hurts. When she opens her eyes her father is looking at her. Only he doesn’t look like her father, like the powerless man who let her go. He looks ancient. She knows that look, it’s the one she’s always seen in her mother’s eyes. She realizes she hasn’t seen her mother. She died and her mother wasn’t there. She must truly be damned.

“Father—“ he cringes from the name.

“Child,” he puts his hand on her brow, “I am so sorry.”

She has no absolution for him.

Perhaps this is how her mother felt, whenever she thought of him.

Perhaps this is how everyone in her family is destined to feel about each other.

She finds Squirrel crouched over the fire. She finds her monster next to him. Squirrel looks but doesn’t get up, the monster does. What kind of evil does it take to be a monster’s monster? The kind that is disarmingly sitting by the fire breaking bread with her old friend. She’s wet and cold again. She feels like a monster as she approaches. Too close and the flames begin to sputter. She takes a step back.

“It’s alright,” Squirrel says and elbows his monster. He pretends not to notice, “do it.”

“No.”

“You said you would,” Squirrel says, “you said I could ask three times, remember?”

This monster who knows nothing of honor takes a deep breath of frustration, pushes up his sleeve and slips his hand into the flames. She watches as they change. Everything turns green and warm. Her feet propel her forward and she stands by the fire, savoring the warmth. Wet and cold is how she is, but just for a moment she can pretend that she is a living girl again.

“Fey Fire was supposed to be gone,” she says. She looks at him, “you didn’t give this to your Brothers.”

“It’s not to be shared,” he says.

“So a slow death is better?” She demands. He glares up at her, “or do you just enjoy causing suffering?”

“He only enjoys causing himself suffering,” Squirrel mutters.

Nimue snatches back her vines.

She cannot snuff out the only innocence left in the world. She looks at the monster. On any other face the look would be embarrassment, but he hasn’t earned that from her. She has no sympathy for him.

“Does he have a name?” They look at each other. She sees the monsters lips part, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Squirrel hesitates and the fury steals her breath. He’s protecting a monster. She should have expected the Paladins to pull something like this. Children, good people, none of it has ever stopped them. The monster is upside down, dangling above his green flames. Is he fireproof? Does she care? Squirrel is shouting for the others but Nimue doesn’t care. Let them come. Let them see. They will keep Squirrel safe.

“Lancelot,” the monster breaks through her rage with a word, “my name is Lancelot.”

She releases him mid air and is only mildly disappointed when he manages to land on his feet. He pulls the green from the fire and it winks out. The last thing it shows is him pushing Squirrel behind himself. His eyes don’t leave her. She hears the others come running. She cannot bear to have them see her like this.

The calls of her name chase her into the dark.

She wishes she didn’t miss the warmth.

“What am I?” She asks her father.

“Something beyond this world,” he says, “and my daughter.”

“I wish my mother were here,” she says, “she would fear me, wouldn’t she?”

“She didn’t fear me,” Merlin points out, “I can’t imagine her ever being afraid of you, even now.”

It only makes her feel slightly better to hear that. It’s Arthur and Pym and Squirrel who are afraid but like her anyways who really matter. But it’s Morgana who appears in a black dress in an instant, who throws off her veil and runs to her without any hesitation. She’s ephemeral, like a shadow and Nimue feels very much a drowned fish in front of her, but they collide like two lost stars. Nimue knows she’s weeping and thinks you can hardly tell with how she is now. There are no tears on Morgana though her shoulders shake with sobs. Perhaps this is who they both are now.

“I thought you were dead!” Morgana cries.

“I’m as dead as you,” Nimue says and she throws her head back and laughs, “oh I’ve missed you.”

“Not as much as I’ve missed you.”

There’s the old, the new and the yet to be. In Morgana’s embrace all three sing sweetly together. Nimue wishes that was true for everyone else. She longs for hugging them to feel as it did. But only Morgana is the same, even if she is now shadow and air. They have become monsters together and if Nimue had to choose someone to walk the path with, it would be Morgana. She looks Lancelot up and down.

“Betrayed anyone lately, pet?” She sniffs.

“Only my brothers,” he replies simply.

“Which ones?”

She rolls her eyes and loops her arm with Nimue’s. It’s almost easy to forget they know each other. That they are connected in a very odd way. She doesn’t seem surprised to learn that he’s a Fey and Nimue realizes it is rather ridiculous to assume the Church didn’t know. They didn’t speak of it, to be sure, but everyone seems to have known. It earns him favor with no-one, she thinks Squirrel was probably right and he enjoys causing his own suffering. The people she knows from the church, who believe it’s doctrine, all seem to enjoy their own masochism. Not as much as inflicting it on others, but they enjoy it all the same.

“I’m glad you kept your wits about you,” she says to Morgana.

She shudders to think of how the convent, how any of this, would have been without her.

It’s three weeks before she finds herself alone with him.

She sleeps but not really, she dreams in memories and powers. Sometimes when she sleeps she walks. There are no village walls to stop her in the place they are in, just endless endless fields. She opens her eyes to find she’s lost. The dripping never leaves a trail, everything looks the same. She is about to call out when he parts the grass with a covered hand. More and more of his layers have found their way to other people, bodies more in need of warmth than pride. He takes care not to touch the grass.

“Are you going to try and kill me?” She asks.

“I would have taken my chance when you were asleep,” he says.

It’s a wonder that their voices sound alike. She’s forgotten how to have a conversation, he doesn’t seem to ever have learned. He’d be pitiful if not for their history. She supposes she would be the same. Somehow they have become two monsters standing there. One of water, one of fire. Her skin crawls at the realization and the part of her that is still a girl wants to turn and flee. From him, from this, from everything.

“I’m not your Queen,” she says. He raises an eyebrow, “you’re not one of my people.”

“I didn’t ask to be.”

“Good,” she says, raising her chin, “so we’re clear.”

He looks at her silently. Patiently. She wants to tell him to leave her, but she’s not sure how to get back. She knows he knows the way. She remembers him, eyes half closed and nose turned up to the wind. Sniffing her out. Like a dog. Her stomach or what’s left of it recoils. Is a dog loyal to only one master? She cannot remember. She cannot think about it. She’s already dead so she isn’t sure it even matters.

“Take me back,” she says.

He inclines his head and steps forward, leading the way.

The safety of her people is the only thing that matters now. She needs to get them somewhere. Somewhere away from the Paladins and away from the mortals. She cannot do it alone. Morgana goes, quick and shadow, she dissipate and reappears like a dark, comforting thought. The first thing she always does is remove the veil. As if seeing Nimue and her brother lets her shed one piece of madness. When she does it this time, the usual determination is gone and replaced by a joy that Nimue hasn’t seen on her face in a very long time.

“I’ve found it,” she says

“Where?”

“It’s far, but I can lead us there. We’ll be safe,” her smile slips, “we will have to pass by Paladin territory.”

“You’ll lead us,” she says to her friend. She looks at him, “you’ll guide us there safely.”

Morgana squeezes her hand.

“I need a map,” Lancelot says.

He finds a way through for them, all of them. Though it takes him a few moments to figure it out. She gets the sense that taking care with groups of people is not his forte. But he tells them where they need to go and how to be prepared for what the Paladins might do. She would thank him but she decides to do that if they get to where they need to go.

“Be careful about trusting the Ash Folk,” her father says.

“Because he has something you need?” She asks.

“Because they have nothing to lose,” he says, “that’s a dangerous thing.”

“I don’t either,” she begins, but then stops. Her people, her people need her. Even if a voice tells her that Arthur will see them safe to where they are going, that they are in good hands, she knows she can do a better job. “If it comes down to it, I don’t either.”

Merlin scowls and she tries not to equate it with the look her mother sometimes gave her when she was particularly stubborn. When she acted like her father. She’s become a monster like him and far worse. She has nothing to lose because she will only be able to lead them so long. So far. Then her time will be done and she doesn’t know what comes next, but it scares her. Perhaps there is a hell. She’s fairly certain she’s been to it, the idea of returning to it terrifies her. She finds him easily enough, scouting out a route. Second guessing himself.

“Are we this for a reason?” She asks, “is there a purpose?” He looks at her quietly, “I’m asking you a question. What does your God say about it?”

“Nothing,” he says.

“Nothing?”

“God doesn’t speak of Fey,” he says.

“What does that make you?” She asks.

“Damned,” he says simply.

She is as well but she loathes having anything in common with him. She’s afraid that if she starts to count the things, she will find too many. She doesn’t want anything in common with him, but at least she’s like this. At least she can tell herself that the girl she was wouldn’t. What she is now, well, she doesn’t know if there’s a point in drawing lines between monsters anymore.

“Hell hurts,” she tells him flatly.

She enjoys the flash of fear in his eyes too much.

It doesn’t stop him though.

He’s there, damn him. Her power doesn’t stop him. He lurks like a shadow. Like he’s stalking her and maybe he is. Maybe this is always how things were fated to go. Her longing for the girl who ran off on her mother’s hatred sours to bitterness as she thinks this might be how it was always meant to be. Her mother was to meet her father, she was to be born. She was to have hopes and dreams, to think she could escape her fate. But fate wins. Fate always wins. And the world is unbearably cruel, even to someone like her who only has one foot in it.

“Do they let you fuck?” She asks one night after nearly killing Merlin. Her father waves her off but she lingers outside his tent, “or is it just murder that’s allowed?”

“Does it matter?” He asks. His words have started to come more freely, but not freely enough for her liking.

“It does to me,” she says. He raises an eyebrow, “I miss being warm.”

He stares at her and she wonders if either of them is sure that she’s joking. She can’t fully say. Being warm sounds wonderful and she’s not sure if she’s meant for wonderful things anymore. But if she boils it down, his fire is the thing that makes her feel warm. The only thing.

“So are you a virgin?” She asks.

“That’s not important.”

“Of course it is, I want to be warm for longer than a virgin can last.”

He huffs and that’s the only indication he’s uncomfortable. She relishes his discomfort. She wants him to be uncomfortable so he’ll stop being so stubborn and so incendiary and such a shadow. She wants him to feel pain, even just a fraction of the pain he’s caused her.

“Don’t you have Arthur for that?”

She hisses through her teeth. Arthur is good. Arthur will be great. Arthur is not warm. He’s not what she needs right now. And she is not what he needs either. They are bad for each other. She doesn’t care what Lancelot thinks of her. He’s as damned as she is, she just has a better reason to face hell.

“You took everything from me,” she says to him, suddenly in front of him. So close she can almost feel it. He looks down at her but he doesn’t look away, “the least you can do is give me the memory of being warm.”

His throat bobs but he doesn’t look away.

That doesn’t make him brave.

“Nimue—“

She kisses him so he shuts up.

She kisses him because it makes him uncomfortable, because she wants to hurt him. Mostly she kisses him because the idea of her name on his lips is utterly unbearable. He’s never kissed anyone before, that much is very clear. But he’s fought people. He translates it into the language that he knows. She digs her teeth into his bottom lip to help him along and suddenly finds herself pressed to the wall, the warmth from his skin seeping through her wet gown. Things come in threes.

It’s warm.

It’s painful.

It’s copper.

They pull apart and their mouths are wet with her water, their saliva and his blood. It’s an ugly thing, kissing him. It’s a betrayal and greed. Perhaps his church was right and she is sin. Well she knows that she’s sin now, but perhaps she was always sin and this was just the inevitable conclusion of it. She looks down to see that his shirt is wet and sheer. She slides her fingers to the mark on his shoulder and she watches him watch her. Something dark is in his eyes.

“Burn with me,” she offers.

“No.”

“You will. One day.”

He takes the warmth with him when he pulls away.

She mourns for it again.

He doesn’t leave.

She damns him all the same.

The island is beautiful when she sees it across the impossible body of water. Something in her unravels at the sight of it. It will be safe. She will make it safe. Morgana looks at her tearfully and grasps her hand without any fear.

“You did this,” she says to her friend.

“We did this,” Morgana says, “we’re so close.”

“Tomorrow,” Nimue tells her, “it will be done tomorrow.”

Lancelot finds her along the shore, feeling the rocks under her feet. She hears him coming but she keeps her eyes focused on the still waters and and the island. Storm clouds are coming in and soon it starts to rain. She doesn’t mind it. When she turns Lancelot is still there looking out at the water.

“You cannot go where they are going,” she says, “you’re not ready.”

“And you?”

She smiles painfully.

“I guess the flames haven’t melted your brain.”

He searches her questioningly but she kisses him instead. She doesn’t want questions or his pity. Maybe it’s fitting that he’s here when she gives up the last of everything. When she goes to pull away, his arms tighten around her waist. His request doesn’t have to be spoken to be heard. But he doesn’t have the right to request anything of her.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “for what I did.”

“I know you are,” she tells him, “that’s not enough.”

“I know.”

He flattens his hand on her sternum and she breathes in the warmth that coils down in her bones. She’s not mortal anymore, not flesh or blood, there’s nothing there for the fire to fuel itself. So it simply burns where her heart used to be. When she steps back, his arms drop and she picks up the sword.

“Kneel,” she says., “A knight of the Fey is one with the land, as enduring as the Great River, and as true as Arwan’s Bow,” she says, “we are born into the dawn to pass into the twilight,” she raises her chin, “you are my knight now, Lancelot of the Lake. You serve me. And I command you to follow Arthur, until you return.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Things come in threes.

The waters close over her and fill her lungs again, but the fire still burns in her chest. She is water and fire and girl. She is living and dead and the sword in her hands. She settles ad floats and the lake becomes hers. Hers to control, hers to guard, hers to be. None will touch her people now as she wraps around them, carried by the current in the water. She watches them cross and she watches those who stay. Lancelot and Percival and Arthur. In time there will be others. One day she will even share the sword. One day she will let them all pass to Avalon. It’s both one day and happening and long in the past.

She doesn’t exist in time in the same sense but as Morgana whisks around in the sky, she is glad for the company.

#cursed #cursed netflix #nimulot #nimue #lancelot #nimue x lancelot #nimue x arthur #nimue x morgana #morgana #arthur

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bartramcat · 5 years

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GSR AS MODERN MEDIEVAL ROMANCE: Valentine's Day Ramblings

I guess Valentine’s Day Weekend is as good a time as any to talk about Romance. Not just Romance in the Love Story context, but Romance as in larger than life Medieval Romance. As I was watching the GSR Love Story unfold, I began to see parallels to Medieval Romance. That is not to say I think someone at CSI set out to make it a modern day Medieval Romance--I don’t--and because it took place in the 21st century, there are certainly several departures from the archetypes...still, I think it interesting. Perhaps you will too.

Right off the bat I should point out that Medieval Romance typically tends to have an adulterous liaison at its center. Adultery was the most dangerous form of love in the medieval world--you could be killed for it; it was also a mortal sin. So engaging in adultery risked your mortal life and immortal soul. Apparently, Medieval audiences found fornication boring; it was frowned upon but not fraught with the danger adultery was.

How does that relate to GSR? While GSR has nothing whatsoever to do with adultery, their relationship contains a more modern taboo: a supervisor sleeping with his much younger subordinate. What is curious about it is that they intentionally decide to keep it on the QT, as if they are in fact committing some kind of mortal sin. On one hand, yes, they are violating workplace rules, but they are rules specific to that workplace. Still, they both operate as if the discovery of their love affair would be tantamount to being caught as adulterers. The punishment, as it turns out, is that they aren’t allowed to be on the same shift together, which is more severe than it seems on the face of it.

Whether at the start of their affair, which I date to the final third of season 5 (everyone has their time frame), the punishment would have been as mild as it was after Sara almost lost her life, I don’t know. For most of Season 5, Ecklie was actively looking for cause against Grissom, and sleeping with Sara certainly would have been seen as cause. In that regard, while their affair would certainly not have risked their lives, there was a very real possibility that it risked their livelihoods. (In Butterflied, Grissom sees giving into his feelings for Sara as putting everything he has worked for at risk. It is as if he believes that a relationship with her could lead ultimately to his being dismissed in disgrace.)

To backtrack, probably the best known medieval love affairs are Lancelot and Guinevere and Tristan and Iseult. The generic setup, which both of those fit into to some extent, is that of the king and his knight. The knight falls in love with the woman who comes to the kingdom to be queen. But the knight is torn between love and duty and loyalty.

So in our modern version, Vegas is the kingdom. In the world of GSR, there is no king, but there is the job. Before we even get to Grissom and his romantic Hamlet routine, we are actually shown that it is Sara who initially takes the biggest risk. She is the one who gives up everything she has known to come help Grissom out. And all he has to do is ask her to stay, and she does. She starts over for a chance at love with him.

Starting over is a hallmark of their Romance.

In Tristan and Iseult, Tristan goes to Ireland to bring Iseult to Cornwall to marry his uncle. On the voyage, they fall in love, with or without the help of a love potion (metaphor or reality?) and consummate their relationship. By the time they reach Cornwall, they are hopelessly in love with one another. But in Cornwall, the rules change.

I suppose it can be debated until the cows come home whether or not Grissom and Sara had sex before she came to Vegas. Personally, I was surprised to read that Mendelsohn had decided they had, as I never thought there was anything either in the text or in the acting to indicate they had. Sex aside, it's absolutely clear they had something significant happen between them in SF. They fell in love. Sara confirms that in Snakes and Grissom in A La Cart.

But in Vegas the rules change. He is her supervisor, and the rules of their job dictate that they can't also be lovers. When I watch them interact in the first 4-5 years of the series, another Medieval work springs to mind: the 2nd circle of Dante's hell (coincidentally reserved for adulterers): like Paulo and Francesca, they whirl around in this endless dance, unable to consummate their desire. In Medieval Romance, it is the woman who is married to another man; in GSR, it is Grissom who is married to his job.

Once the medieval lovers and our more modern ones decide to give into their feelings, the behavior is pretty similar as they endeavor to preserve the secrecy of their love affair. In both settings, the affairs continue for a fairly substantial period of time undiscovered, although there are close calls. In the medieval world, it is usually a third party, usually one with ambition, who works to expose the lovers, while the husband/king turns a blind eye to the seemingly obvious.

On the face of it, it seems patently absurd that no one at CSI ever discerned that Grissom and Sara were lovers. Until we remember how these folks perceived Grissom. They all were aware that she was special to him on some level, but it's also pretty clear that none of them ever considered the possibility that he would ever become involved in a long term, committed relationship. More than likely, they thought Grissom was incapable of Romantic Love, which, apparently, he was until he met Sara. (In Family Affair, Greg and Nick laugh at the idea Grissom is Sara's husband; it still doesn't compute that he is married.)

That brings us to Natalie Davis. She knows nothing about these people personally. All she knows is that Grissom's investigation pushed Ernie Dell to suicide in an effort to protect her. My guess is she started stalking him, and she stumbled upon the infamous caress of Sara's arm at the crime scene. From that moment on, her focus became Sara. (Many sketches of Sara in her apartment; the only one of Grissom was when he was stroking her arm.) Why kill Grissom when she could make him feel her pain? I suspect she stalked both of them and knew far more about their relationship than we were given privy to. She certainly knew enough about their routine to know Sara ate at the veggie place a couple of times a week before going into the lab.

In Medieval Romance, after the affair is made public, it is the male who flees the kingdom, into the wilderness, in fear for his life. In some versions, he sneaks back into the kingdom to rescue her from death. In others, she remains, having been forgiven by her husband, until such time as she can no longer live without her lover. Having discovered where he is, she escapes the kingdom to join him in the wilderness, wherein they live a contented and pastoral life. For a time.

Okay. The parallel gets a little fuzzy here. The upshot of Sara's kidnapping is twofold. The first is that the love affair is exposed. It is pretty clear at the end of Dead Doll that Grissom no longer gives a damn who knows about their relationship. By A La Cart, they are both completely open about it, or at least as open as they are capable. The second is the shift change, isolating Sara from her work family and limiting the time she now has with Grissom. Even if we assume they are living together, and I think most of us do, they are working different shifts, so even their "at home" time together would be affected. More and more the job overwhelms her. In an act of self-preservation, Sara flees the kingdom, er, Vegas. While she comes back in his hour of need after Warrick's death, he again remains committed to his life and work in Vegas, where she feels she cannot live, and she leaves him again, eventually resigning herself to the fact they are over.

Now I could be completely off base here, but I always assumed that after she left in season 8 that he thought if he gave her enough space and time that eventually she would come back. In both You Kill Me and Grissom's Divine Comedy, it is indicated pretty strongly that they are in contact. When she comes back in season 9, she moves back in with him as if their relationship is a continuum, even with the physical separation. While he obviously pines for her during this period, it is not without hope, and he is able to function.

What he cannot abide is after she leaves in season 9. He begins to have trouble focusing, and we learn he has no idea where she is. She is taking a voyage of self Discovery and reconciliation, coming to accept she will now have to live her life without him. It's clear in her video that she still loves him, but they are at an impasse, so it's time for them both to move on with their lives. She sets him free. "You don't have to worry about me anymore." Interesting choice of words.

Grissom is now in Purgatory. He doesn't want to live without her, but he can't bring himself to change. On some level, he's come full circle, back to the Grissom who was afraid to "risk" his job by giving into his love for her. But there is a difference. In seasons 1-5, a relationship with Sara was a concept, sort of an idealized possibility, not a reality he had experienced. In many ways, to go Medieval again, she is his Beatrice, his Laura, whom he is content to love from afar. If we take him at his word, he had never been in love before nor been loved in return. It's one thing to eschew something you've never had, quite another to lose the one thing that has ever given your life meaning.

One of the major problems in the GSR relationship is that they love each other almost too much: to the point neither can ever quite believe they are loved as much in return. He believes in Butterflied that he has missed his chance. He turned her down. How could she possibly still be interested? She told him by the time he figured it out it could be too late. He figured it out but assumed it was too late. After Warrick's death, she assumed he really wanted her to leave him, to set him free, because she was unable at that point to resume their relationship on his terms. In her wildest dreams, I do not think she ever expected her setting him free would be the impetus for him to realize he couldn't live without her.

So in season 9 we find Grissom more at sea metaphorically than Sara who really is at sea on her way to the wilderness. Ironically, they are both on a voyage of self-discovery. Both are learning to let go: she of her need for him and he of his need for the safety and security of the lab. What is abundantly clear is that they still love one another. We are never told how he discovers where she is, but it is pretty clear he has found her and made his decision to go to her by the end of Young Man with a Horn. He tells Catherine it's time to up the ante, and he is speaking to her assertion that he has a work family. He wants a real family; in many ways over the years it was made clear he wanted to marry Sara, long before the actual proposal. They are each other's family. She is the only woman he has ever loved; he is the only home she has ever known. Not surprising that the first scene of the next episode has him announcing his departure.

Back to our Romance. The woman could have lived a very safe and secure life as Queen of the kingdom once her lover left. But she is incomplete without him, so she throws all of that away once she discovers where he is and steals away in the night to go to him. She would rather live in the wilderness with him than in the empty security of the kingdom. Again there are variations upon variations in these tales, mainly because a lot of them came out of oral traditions over centuries. The lovers live for a time in bliss, poor but content to be together.

CSI doesn't give us a whole lot about GSR after he runs to her in the rainforest. I think we can assume he went to her fully intending to marry her. We can probably also assume they got married fairly quickly and honeymooned in Costa Rica and possibly spent some more time there as she fulfilled her volunteer gig. I always wondered what they thought they were going to live on; like our Medieval lovers, they are in the wilderness with no discernible source of income. (Okay. It's highly possible Grissom got a substantial vacation time payout when he left.) I never thought they went from Costa Rica directly to Paris. That makes no sense. They had obligations in the States, including Grissom taking his bride to meet his mother. Which could have been interesting. (How many times did mother Grissom bring up grandchildren?) We learn he still has the condo, and then there is Hank. Like most things GSR, we are given no indication when he was asked to lecture at the Sorbonne. While they were in Costa Rica? When they came back to the States? In my "headcanon," they come back to Vegas, tie up loose ends and go on a road trip, destination New York, destination Paris, possibly spending the spring and most of the summer touring the ballparks of America. And other places. But that's just me.

As far as I'm concerned, One to Go should have been endgame for them. No matter what, they should have been together from that point on. There are some things that make no sense to me, even before the dreaded divorce. As I don't see them going directly from Costa Rica to Paris, it also makes little sense that he went straight from Paris to Peru. At some point they bought a house, and I don't think she did that on her own. What makes more sense to me is that he came back to Vegas shortly after the conclusion of season 10, which also would have coincided with the end of the spring semester in Paris. More than likely, that's when they bought the house, having realized at that point that they weren't getting their grant. Perhaps she told him she was comfortable remaining at the lab full time, and they decided to resettle in Vegas. We aren't sure what he was planning to do, but my guess is that he may have been looking for a position at a University or scientific institution within a 100 mile radius. Then the Peru offer came in. Or, rather, that's what the show came up with to explain why we didn't see him.

It's interesting that in season 10 that she is the one going to him in Paris, although it's highly probable he came home over break, but in season 11 forward he is the one who apparently comes to Vegas. It is possible that the archaeological site was remote and heavily secured to the point where her visiting him there might have been difficult. Again not explained.

So the last we saw our Medieval Romancers they were living in pastoral bliss in the wilderness. But they are adulterers, so in the terms of Medieval morality that happiness can't last. Again depending on the tale and the version, they are separated, either by a storm or by the king's men discovering their hideaway. After the melee, he ends up looking for her but becomes resigned to the fact she must be dead. She somehow ends up back in the kingdom, either returning for want of someplace else to go or she is taken back by the king's men to face her punishment. Upon seeing her again, the king forgives her, and she is resigned to living out her days with him. She is also convinced her lover must be dead.

While this sequence is a little out of sequence, I always thought it ironic that it was Sara who returned to Vegas. I also thought it a bit odd that they rehired her, given the way she left. In my work experience, walk out on a job, and you aren't coming back. I suppose it's possible she dropped by HR and requested an emergency leave of some kind, but we don't know, or if the lab felt some culpability, given that it was PTSD that contributed. Again never explained.

For whatever reason, TPTB aka TIIC decided the strain of writing (what writing?) a long distance marriage was too hard on them, so we got the inconceivable divorce. I consider it anomalous on 2 levels. For one, I don't believe it, not at that point in their relationship. For another, it is as if they are being punished for no apparent reason other than writer ineptitude. Unlike our Medieval lovers, they have never done anything wrong. (They've made mistakes, but that's not the same thing.) Curiously, I think one of the reasons I am so drawn to them as a couple is they are not morally ambiguous, yet both are also incredibly complex and multi-faceted. Normally, in fiction, characters with that much substance have a touch of evil. Not these two, and I think that makes them more fascinating as individuals and is a large part of why the people who are so taken with them are so taken with them. They deserve each other; they really do.

The divorce is an unfortunate occurrence within the GSR world that actually bolsters--sad to say-- the Medieval Romance parallel. Especially since Grissom decides to take to the seas, wandering the world, disconnected from the kingdom of Vegas and the woman he loves, leaving Sara to live her life alone there. It is almost as if he wants her to think he is dead. (Can we further extrapolate that his indulging in high risk behavior may very well indicate that he is being intentionally reckless?)

I like the Finale of CSI as a stand alone Romantic Comedy, and one of these days I'll finish something I was writing about that. The problem with it is that I never believed Grissom would divorce Sara in the first place. OTOH I do think his behavior after the divorce was probably accurate, cutting himself off from everything about their life together. Somewhere in his thinking, he probably truly believed if he set her free that she would find someone to be the kind of husband he thought she deserved, but he certainly never wanted to see it.

Medieval Romance does not have a happy ending. Eventually you get punished for your sins. To totally pastiche it, the woman discovers her lover to be alive living in some remote corner of the kingdom and does everything in her power to get to him. Either before or while she is sailing there, he is mortally wounded. She arrives just as he dies, and she either dies of a broken heart or kills herself. All wrapped up neatly: their love is eternal but they are punished for their adultery.

CSI came up with a contrivance to get Grissom back to Vegas. At that point GSR ceases to be Romance and becomes Romantic Comedy, 1940s RomCom. It takes the full two hours, but he and Sara end up realizing they belong together. One of the things I like about their sailing off into the sunset is that it is open-ended. At no point does the show say they're off to carry on his eco-terrorist activities. In a metaphoric kind of way, I always saw Vegas as something that always seemed to come between them, either in the first 5 years of the series, when she had to leave, when he refused to leave, when she came back and was left there alone. So I really have no problem with their going off into the great unknown together. Taking one more risk. It's kinda what they do. I see it as their Romance coming full circle on two levels: on one hand, she gave up her life as she knew it to come to Vegas because of him, so she leaves for the same reason. On the other, her leaving to go with him is the parallel to his leaving to go to her. That isn't to say I think they live on his boat, cut off from their life in Vegas, but rather they are scientists who will find a way to do science together.

My concept is far more detailed and makes sense of my vision of who they are and what would make them happy. But then the nice thing about that ending is that everyone can imagine what they want to imagine. And no one is wrong.

Hope it stays that way.

#csi #csiedit #grissom x sara #gsr #gil grissom #sara sidle #csi: las vegas #grissom and sara #medieval romance #mytext #valentines

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dragonrajafanfiction · 4 years

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Dragon Dancer IV: Goodbye, Tokyo

I stood behind Zihang’s chair, running a lock of his dark hair through with a comb, spreading the shiny strands in my fingers, and then, taking a pair of shears, snipped the ends into a straight line.

Chu Zihang sat quiet and still. Were it not for his coal black eyes, wide like an elk’s, I would have thought he was just the same as always.

Meanwhile, Lu Mingfei examined himself in the mirror turning his head back and forth examining my work.. “Not bad, Meix- er... Fengchu.”

I glanced at him with a small smile. “Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

There were large and small boxes all over the floor. Some boxes contained light and heavy weapons, some boxes contained medicines and clothing for all seasons. Others contained compressed food, enough for the four of us to live in a wasteland.

Two boxes were just for supplies for Ru’Yi including diapers of different sizes, reusable cloth ones.

It didn’t feel like fleeing, but like moving.

I walked around Chu Zihang to work on the bangs over his eyes. It was his usual haircut. Of course, he didn’t know that.

“Wow, what a handsome style this is turning out to be....” Nono rubbed her chin.

“He’s handsome in any style.” I said.

Zihang glanced down, his cheeks turning a little pink.

“All the girls should chase him, but he has no one even in high school?” Nono asked suspiciously.

I was grateful for that, of course, but I bit my tongue and stepped away. “What do you think?”

“I like it.” He said in an almost inaudible mumble.

Lu Mingfei was watching us, his eyes distant. Who knew what he was thinking?But I could guess.

Erii. Did she cut his hair like this? I looked up but he turned away before I could say anything and pulled a cap on his head.

I opened my mouth to say something.

“I’ll be back later.” He said, picking up Chu Zihang’s backpack.

“What are you doing with his pack?” Nono asked.

“I have some...shopping... we still lack a detailed map and I won’t be using Fingel’s navigation until we can make sure he is not being tracked. There’s a bookstore nearby.”

“Cold-hearted! I would rather toss myself in the nearest toilet than betray you but you still distrust me!” came the voice of Fingel from his pocket.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I went back to my room, planning to go to bed early, after feeding Ru’Yi well. This might be the last time we could sleep together in comfort like this. I looked down at Ru’Yi’s dark eyes. They were heavy with fatigue but she stayed awake. I wondered if she would grow up on the run. I thought to myself that maybe I could find a place for us to hide for a while. I’d change my name and then one day, I would tell her the truth about everything that happened around her birth.

How just like the Christ, she’d been attacked as a young child and we had to flee. And a handsome young man from the East came bearing her gifts.

She fell asleep quickly and I swaddled her and set her on a folded blanket on the floor.

A knock sounded at the door. I grabbed Tongzi and walked up to the foyer. “Who is it?” I called.

“It’s Saeki-kun!”

I frowned. “Who is Saeki-kun? I don’t know that name.”

I heard a loud sigh. “It’s Crow. I don’t want to be called that you know.”

I cracked the door, eying him in suspicion, not undoing the chain.

He looked at me with a hurt expression. “Really, all this and you come at me with a sword?”

Belatedly, I put the sword out of sight. “Don’t feel bad. I don’t really trust anyone any more. I know you say you’re watching your back but if I don’t watch mine, who’s going to watch it?”

He gave me a crooked smile. “I get it. Well, I won’t waste your time. I’m here to tell you about our escape plans. I’ve prepared ship for you. It’s a cargo ship, typically transports trash, but it also trades in black market goods and illegal immigrants.”

“A boat?” My eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve made sure that captain understands the importance of getting you to your destination... by taking his whole family hostage.” His voice lowered and his smile disappeared.

I licked my lips. “Wow.”

“Convinced yet?”

“Ninety percent...”

“What?! What do I have to do?” He pushed back his bangs.

“Hey! It’s just you that saying you kidnapped his family. You have no evidence of it!”

“Why would I have evidence of a crime!” He hissed at me.

“Okay, in case of emergency how do we get off?”

“Huh?” He blinked.

“If things go south, how do we get off the ship!” My eyes narrowed. “I’ll feel better if I feel like I can escape in case something goes wrong.”

“Every ship has life boats...”

“You didn’t think of a plan B for the ship?!”

“I did but I can’t tell you. Trust me. I have a plan for the Executive bureau....”

“I don’t trust anyone any more!” My voice was starting to shake. “Crow, you tell me there’s a way off or I’m going to assume this is a death trap!”

He slammed his palm against door post and snarled into my face. “I love Ru’Yi.”

I shrank away and he lowered his head.

“Look. Nothing is one hundred percent. I’m doing everything I can here. If I could... I’d go with you.”

“Why don’t you?” I asked the question sharply. If the ship was good enough for us, it should be good enough for him, right?

He looked up at me, hurt radiating from his eyes. I forced myself to meet them, not willing to budge an inch on this.

“Because my father... he’s getting old. His mind is going. He can’t make his appointments if I don’t remind him. If I get sent to the isles, Hydra will break me out, and take care of him, but if I go with you? He might be at risk.”

I hesitated a moment to let go of my suspicions but then I relented, nodding my head. “Thank you... for everything.”

“Nah...” He waved me away. “If I could do it all over again, I’d do a better job. This is one last chance for me to get it all right. Lancelot knows you want to escape Japan so he’s monitoring all the ports. But this smuggling ship won’t go to a normal port.”

“Okay.” I whispered.

He smiled at me, his eyes soft. “Is there anything else you need?”

I thought a moment and shook my head.

“Then be ready to go. 2 am sharp.”

The pier was far away from the harbor area familiar to most people. There were no commercial buildings, only the endless rocky beach and the black undulating sea. The gray concrete pillars extended one by one toward the depths of the water, an unfinished trestle bridge for unloading cargo.

Only cargo ships were loaded and unloaded here and usually they transported high-value commodities. Looking out, rusty containers were piled around the wharf. The air was filled with a slight metallic smell.

My eyes were wide, searching for any signs that we were being followed or watched. It had been a long time since I had been in the open like this. Ru’Yi slept against my back, bundled in a tight wrap. The wrap also held Spiderfang and Tongzi at my side.

I looked at Nono and she too stayed vigilant.

Crow, however, calmly leaned on his red sports car, waiting and humming a tune.

“What are you singing?”

“The dock is my father’s fishing pole, my brother and I are standing at the two ends of the pole.” Lu Mingfei translated to us. “Sounds like a Japanese folk song.”

“It’s from my hometown! When we were young, we both waited for my father to come back from the pier. He’d bring back fresh fish, and my mother would make fish soup and tofu for us.”

Nono turned to him. “I thought your father was a gangster? Since when did he take up fishing?”

I glanced at Nono, hackles rising again.

Crow threw up his hands. “Do you think I grew up on Tokyo? We collected protection money from the fishermen! He came from the pier after collecting! You women and your trust issues!”

Nono rolled her eyes but didn’t continue to question.

The wind blowing on the sea was getting colder and colder. I checked to make sure Ru’Yi’s knitted hat was staying on her head. Tonight, we were all wearing the uniforms of the Japanese Executive Bureau: Long black trench coats, with the special customized Ukiyo-e pattern in the lining.

“That trestle bridge is also thanks to my brother...” He suddenly stopped talking.

He spit out the cigarette in his mouth, stomped it out with the toe of his shoe and strode forward. “How are you my friend! I missed you so much, my white sail, the portrait of my ship, the strongest male seagull among us. My dear captain!”

From the darkness ahead came a middle aged man wearing a white uniform with a pale face. I could smell the alcohol and oil from a long distance. The man and Crow hugged vigorously and rubbed their chins together in a strange greeting.

“He’s a Slav.” Nono muttered, just loud enough for me to hear.

My uneasiness grew at his rough and unkempt appearance. How could I trust this dirty alcoholic stranger with my child’s life? I wanted off this boat and I hadn’t even gotten on it.

Nono noticed my discomfort. “Yeah I know... but Crow has kidnapped this man’s family and I’m sure if anyone harasses any of us, they’ll have Chu Zihang to contend with.”

The captain took out a bottle of vodka from his trouser pocket and handed it to Crow. Crow unscrewed it and took a sip. They spoke Japanese and what sounded like Russian. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that Crow was truly a sailor and not a gangster at all.

He returned to us and enthusiastically introduced us. “My good brother, Captain Aliyev will take you out of Japan. There are not many people who dare to enter and exit the port of Tokyo directly. The Aliyev brothers run the smoothest on this route and have never lost their cargo!”

I nodded but couldn’t help but frown at the vodka bottle.

“We will unload the cargo in Vladivostok in seven days. Within seven days, I will guarantee your safety.” Captain Aliyev seemed very proud. “Our ship is of very high level. Although we dare not say we are being escorted by warships, if anything happens, we will raise an alarm! And there will be warships coming from nearby within an hour. No one has ever dared to embarrass us on the high seas!”

Crow looked at me and gave me a thumbs up.

I expelled a breath and smiled, returning his thumbs up.

But in truth, I had already planned my own escape.

After our conversation earlier this night, I couldn’t sleep. I spent about an hour researching destinations to teleport to if needed. I decided against any more islands and settled on a place called La Rinconada, high in the mountains of Peru.

It was a six hour ride from the nearest city. There were no paved roads and buses were irregular. The biggest advantage it had was the fact that anyone coming into such a place would be noticed long before they got there. It was landlocked, making for an easy escape once we needed to escape again.

I wouldn’t depend on the assurances of the captain or Crow.

“Why would armed ships come to the rescue of a garbage ship?” Mingfei asked, surprised.

Crow leaned over and whispered something in Mingfei’s ear. Mingfei let out a little... “Oh!” and nodded.

I glanced over, frowning. Why couldn’t he tell me?

“Ladies and gentlemen, please come on board with me, your bed and vodka are ready!” Captain Aliyev cheered.

“My friend, I will leave it to you! I owe you big time, Cap!” Crow shouted as he made his way back to his car.

He leaned against his sports car, looking at me. I felt that there should be more to say than this, but he waved his hand, shooing me off.

I gave him a wave and turned to follow the captain. As soon as I reached the captain’s side however, Crow shouted again. “I’ll take care of your wife and children!”

A shiver ran down my spine.

The ship was worse than I imagined. No matter how high a priority the cargo, a garbage ship still smelled like garbage, fish, and rusty steel. We were supposed to spend our escape in a literal floating dumpster!

The living area was below the deck, and Aliyev led us through the dark passageway. Nono was alert to everything, memorizing the dark halls to find her way back later on her own. I followed her lead, mentally marking signs in my head to make sure I understood the route back to the upper decks.

With her ability to profile and read people, Nono was also good as a watch dog. If anyone here seemed out of place, she would let us know.

Aliyev stopped at the end of a passage, the two doors on each side of the hall made for four cabins.

“Vodka, soft beds, 24-hour hot water. This is the best place to to live on this boat.” He squinted at us. “Why are you such good friend of Mr. Saeki?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. “Don’t walk around for your own safety. Many men on boat. Always sad, depressed and lonely. You are very beautiful... and they get drunk.”

Nono gave a loud snort and pushed into the door.

Mingfei went in the opposite door from Nono

Chu Zihang dutifully went to follow Nono but suddenly hesitated, looking at me.

I walked past him and then grabbed his arm, leaning into his ear to whisper. “Sleep with your sword tonight.”

I picked the door next to Mingfei’s.

The cabin was quite tidy, and there was even a small round porthole to look outside. But the so-called 24-hour hot water was just a shower head and the unlimited vodka was also the cheap kind, not that I cared.

The Captain stood at the door watching me. “He told me to make sure you had everything you needed. Are you his wife?”

“When are we sailing?” I asked with some annoyance.

“The goods are loaded and we can leave at any time.” He held out a key to me.

I stared at him, frowning. “Toss it on the bed.”

He shrugged and did so. “I will ask the crew to bring in your other luggage later.”

“Are there lifeboats?”

“Of course! We must follow maritime law.”

I squinted at him in silence. Was this guy talking about law when he was smuggling fugitives? “Okay. Thank you very much.”

He turned and his heavy footsteps receded down the hall.

I hissed through my teeth. “I don’t trust these people. I don’t trust these people!”

I unwrapped Ru’Yi and laid her on the bed and then I sat on the bed, looking out the porthole window, holding Tongzi and Spider Fang in my lap.

In a few moments Lu Mingfei came in and saw me. He held a device in his hand. “You’re worried to, huh? I brought a bug scanner.”

I smiled with immense relief as he swept the room. “Nono’s already got her Beretta heavy pistol assembled and loaded. Only now she’s taking sips of vodka.” He said, chuckling.

After a few minutes of scanning, he nodded. “Alright... looks like the room is clean of bugs. We’re good to go.”

“Thanks Mingfei.”

“Any time.” He put the device back in his pocket. “Get some rest, Meixiu.”

“Call me Hamilton.” I smiled.

“I’m not calling you that.”

As he turned to leave, I spoke up. “By the way, anything goes down, come find me. I have a place we can teleport to.”

"I know I can count on you.” He gave me a thumbs up, then walked away and shut the door.

#Dragon Dancer #Dragon Raja #Writing #Fanfiction #Chen Moutong #Nono #Lu Mingfei #Mingfei Lu #Luminous #Chu Zihang #Johann Chu

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benvoliosantodomingo · 4 years

Text

@evcravens asked for / dead poet’s society au

it's not that bellamy doesn’t like mr. craven, or his class.

he loves both--mr. craven is kind, more so than any other teacher at the school, and he has a way of teaching where every word he speaks feels like a kind of flaming arrow, lodging straight inside bellamy’s heart and setting him ablaze. it's because of mr. craven that the messy collection of papers inside of bellamy’s book bag now contains rows upon rows of words--words that he has collected from entire days now lost to the recesses of the library poetry section, words that belong to him and are quick to be crossed out, hidden behind a dark wall of angry pen marks--its because of mr. craven that quiet, reserved, never-step-a-foot-out-of-line bellamy santo domingo tucked a slim volume of barely-will-be-missed keats from the shelves between the pages of a chemistry book, and took it back to his dorm room.

but that doesn’t mean he wants mr. craven’s direct attention.

he’s already miserable enough trying to live up to the expectations of his parents, trying to be someone who will leave a good legacy for his younger brothers to follow in the footsteps of, barely keeping his head above water in classes that he hates just so they can brag to their friends about their son, the future lawyer / doctor / congressman / insert respectable occupation here. he doesn’t need mr. craven to tell him what he already knows--that he’s not sucking every last drop from the marrow of life, or choosing to live deliberately, or something like that.

but tiberius capulet, as he often chooses to express, doesn’t give a damn about what bellamy thinks or has to say.

he tips over bellamy’s bookbag as class comes to an end without a moment’s hesitation, sending the contents sprawling over the floor around his desk and marcelo’s next to him. he doesn’t get a chance to tell his best friend to go on ahead without him, or to leave tiberius alone, because the other boy is already gone--calling after his sworn enemy and promising to make him regret ever messing with bellamy in any capacity. which leaves bellamy alone. with mr. craven. who is far too nice to let bellamy collect his things alone.

he chuckles at marcelo’s theatrics, smiles warmly before leaning down to gather up a few sheets of loose-leaf paper, and the stolen volume of keats, causing bellamy’s cheeks to suddenly feel feverish. he tries to hide it by keeping his head down, by frantically trying to draw more of the contents of his life towards him, but it's not fast enough to stop his teacher from flipping through the pages of the book, seeing every underline and hastily scribbled note.

he expects the worst, a gentle command for bellamy to return the thing, but that isn’t what he gets from craven--the older man just hands the book back, tilts his head just slightly as if he’s trying to divine something about the student in front of him. can you let me know, whatever you figure out? because it’s probably more than i know. he thinks to himself.

“if you like keats, you should read his letters to fanny brawne--they’re very romantic.” mr. craven says, and bellamy only nods his head, adds them to the mental list he’s been making of every work that his teacher has ever mentioned in some capacity. its a useless exercise, but surely a man who is dying of hunger thinks of all the food he wants to eat. “bright star,” mr. craven grins, quotes in that way he has where it seems to be to himself, for his own enjoyment, but really is for the benefit of anyone who will take the time to listen. “would that i were steadfast as thou art.”

silence falls between them again as bellamy tucks the last of his things into his bag, slides the keats carefully into its hiding place between his chemistry and history textbooks. mr. craven breaks it yet again, resting a hand gently on bellamy’s shoulder. “your short story was very good, bellamy.” never mr. santo domingo, like the other teachers. always bellamy. “i really enjoyed your reinterpretation of the arthurian legend--few ever choose to focus on how lancelot and guinevere loved the same man with an equal fervor. what was it you wrote?” he moves to his desk and shuffles through a stack of student work, before holding bellamy’s paper aloft like some kind of trophy. “lancelot met the queen’s eyes, and it passed unspoken between them. they would remain here, on his right hand and his left, for as long as their king would allow them to. for as long as he should need them.”

bellamy’s cheeks somehow feel even warmer than before, and he wishes that there was something else that he could look at, so he didn’t have to meet his teacher’s eyes, didn’t know that the man meant every word he was saying. “it was nothing,” he replies quietly, with a shrug of his shoulder. “i just took what was already there in the stories. said it out loud instead of between the lines.”

craven laughs, a full bodied thing that comes from a kind of joy that deeply frightens bellamy with how much he wants it, how distant it seems. “that’s a brave thing to do, sometimes.” bellamy only shrugs a shoulder again, in response, which draws mr. craven in front of him again, leaning against the front of his desk with his arms folded across his chest. “you should write more, bellamy. you have a real talent for it--the kind of talent that doesn’t come along all that often.”

bellamy wants to cry, wants to howl with laughter at the statement. it will die with him, apparently. “thanks mr. craven, but if i tell my parents they have a poet for a son instead of a politican or a doctor? they’d have a collective aneurism.” he feels pressure behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill over in a flood he won’t be able to stop once it starts, so he moves to leave the classroom, make for the nearest bathroom stall. mr. craven doesn’t try to stop him, but he does call out before bellamy makes it all the way through the doorway.

“bellamy,” he exhales, and bellamy notes the hint of sadness that the sound contains. “i know it doesn’t seem like it now, but try to remember that your life is your own.”

he doesn’t respond, just wipes furtively at his eyes with his shirt sleeve and ducks his head as he moves quickly down the hallway.

#i am inimitable ; i am an original / drabbles #you too can be carved anew by the details of your devotions / everett craven #i BLINKED and suddenly this was three pages #MAKE OF IT WHAT YOU WILL

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marshmallowprotection · 5 years

Text

T H E S A V I O R & H I S B E L I E V E R

Based on Bad Ending 3.

Saeran and Lila both lose their chance to escape and somebody takes advantadge of that to bend them to her will.

Saeran x Lila Lancelot (OC)

Words: 3270

It had been child’s play, to say the least, like taking candy from a baby.

Nothing more, and nothing less than that. All it took was a little yank of an arm behind one’s head until they begged for mercy and lamented, pushing their limit for pain until they eventually cracked and had no choice but to submit and accept their fate.

Sure, there was always a hint of trepidation and hesitancy from those who didn’t know what was good for them at first, but she was quick to break them of these awful habits. It only took a bit of this, a dash a that, a sprinkle of such the right amount of applied pain, and when you wrapped it all up in a delicate bow, it was just right again.

Saeran had been following a fool’s errand.

Why would he ever think that he was made for the outside world? Certainly not, she knew him better than that. He had not survived and flourished there, no, no. He had spent his childhood miserable and lost until she had found him and taken him to the safety of the walls.

It had been the doing of that girl.

Whenever something seemingly started to go wrong in her divine plans the issue always led back to Lila. She really had gotten in the way and caused far too much trouble to warrant any good feelings. A part of Rika wanted to throw her away and try again, but the kindness in her heart was too big for her to do such a thing like that.

Why ever should she throw any somebody who had the power to sway Saeran AND Ray?

That would be a waste of something that could provide far too much good in her quest to redeem him in the holy light that could only exist here in Magenta. Self-reflection was important and Rika was glad she stopped for a moment to think about what would be best done to fix this mess. She was surprised that it didn’t occur to her sooner.

She could use her, just as she used Saeran, just as she had used Ray. She did just that, too. Once Rika decided that her devil had given her the best path to follow, she went through with it. Saeran had thought that he was going to be leaving, but, as a matter of fact, he would be sleeping for quite some time.

Just as long as it would take to break the spirit of that pathetic princess.

It took time.

It always took a bit of time and effort to figure out the best way to make someone crack. Lila had already been pushed to her limits by Saeran as he had spent weeks toying with her feelings and emotions for the sake of a thrill, and that left her in quite the vulnerable state. She had thought that Saeran had finally abandoned her once and for all when he never came to find her.

She feared that it had all been a cruel trick.

That he dangled her freedom, and the freedom that she had wanted for him and Ray out on a string only to leave her gasping for air like fish out of water on the way to market. Her heart was heavy and her tears were close to drying out after so long of being scared and alone.

The pitiful fact was—

Lila would not give up on that boy.

It was her fatal flaw, her hamartia. Even when the rest of the world had given up on her and she should have given up on belief and faith, she never let herself give up on the boy that had shown her so many feelings and experiences. From the fondness that Ray had given her to the delicate hesitation that came from the nervous Saeran.

Rika could see it in those eyes of hers.

The childish devotion that was tied to. She almost pitied Lila. She had seen that look in her own eyes at one time when she was a different person. The fact that she had been broken and thrown about like a ragdoll was her own fault, she should have known better than to love somebody.

Love… hah…

It’s such a shame that when you think you have that, the person judges you and casts you aside when you reveal your truest self. It’s also daunting when someone looks upon you for the first time with such faith that you do not know what to do with yourself. That was why Saeran couldn’t bear to look at that poor thing in the eyes because her blind devotion terrified him.

Blind devotion can be such a beautiful thing. He was not ready to feel on the receiving end of those feelings.

That was why he was led astray.

It was why he had failed.

Rika realized that when she spoke to the broken doll for the first time, and she could see it reflected her eyes.

She saw something that she could have never seen in the awful traitorous man that cast her aside like garbage when she revealed her true nature to him one fateful afternoon. Something that her devil relished and found sheer satisfaction from, deliciously so.

She could work with this, she could twist this narrative so wonderfully, she could benefit from this… most of all, paradise could benefit from this. She could see why her dear, useless, pathetic, childish Saeran had fallen for Lila. She could also see why this nervous, terrified, shivering porcelain doll had sought out comfort from him.

“You miss him, don’t you? Poor thing, abandoned because he didn’t know what was good for him, right?” She cradles the poor girl’s face in her hands. Lila is listening to her every word because there’s nothing else left for her to do. “It’s okay. You can be honest with me. I of all people know what it feels like to love someone who forsakes them.”

“…He just said he would come back. I believed him. I want to believe him, but he’s still not back and it’s been so long…” her voice is quiet. “If he… if he left without me… that’s okay… right? As long as… as long as he’s safe out there. It shouldn’t matter what happens to me, right? I just want Saeran to be safe.”

She started to shake her head at that notion that sprang into her head. Her dry eyes find the will to let a few tears go free. She chokes back a heavy sob and holds herself as tightly as she can. It isn’t much. It’s barely working. She’s on the brink of losing it, and her pieces are so close to the ledge.

Good. That’s just what Rika wanted.

Rika nodded her head as if he understood those feelings and where she was coming from. “That’s alright. I get it. We both wanted the same thing, you know? I wanted Saeran to be safe, as well. Sure, our intentions were a little different but we both care about that poor boy, right?”

“…Yeah.” Lila mumbled.

She watched, and she waited. Rika could find no sign of attitude or ill-meaning in those words. Long ago, the girl would have fought with her for saying such a thing and pushed her away. But it appeared as though that her will had been so broken that she didn’t or couldn’t fight anymore.

Rika smiled, “You must be wondering why I came to see you today after all this time. Well, it wasn’t that I didn’t mean to. There is much business to take care of and I can’t regulate everything out. I come to you with my proposition, my dear. Don’t look so down, princess. I won’t let you rot away here.”

Lila lifted her gaze from the ground and looked dead into Rika’s eyes. She was scared and hopeful, but as much as she was, she was also nervous about listening to anything that Rika may have had. She was looking for a hidden meaning under those words but she would not find what she was looking for tonight.

She didn’t reply to which Rika expected.

It mattered not.

What mattered now was that she said what needed to be said.

“What would you say if I told you that I had a way for you to be with Saeran?” She asked. “Would you be interested?”

Silence.

“Isn’t he gone?”

“He’s never really gone,” Rika replied.

“What does it matter? He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Lila muttered. Her voice was bitter, and it was lovely. “It doesn’t seem to matter what I want. If he’s okay without me, then that’s okay. I won’t… let it bother me. He deserves to be happy.”

Rika paid no mind to that fact, she only continues to speak her mind and let the words flow. “I assure you he isn’t happy. You just wanted to be able to be with him without anyone separating you. Isn’t that what you want? I realize… I may have acted hastily in my past decisions, and I regretfully may have made a few mistakes in my actions. I know you might be quite hesitant to trust me, but I’ve realized that to fix things I need to start with those that I have… well, hurt the most recently

“Sounds funny coming from, well, you,” Lila mumbled. “All you’ve ever done to Ray and Saeran is hurt them. I don’t see why you would just… change.”

Rika chuckled. It was a soft, delicate sound. “I’ve changed, I promise you that. When Saeran… and I spoke before he left, I realized what I had been doing was rather extreme, and how badly I had hurt the two of you. He really put into perspective for me. I love that boy like he’s my own… and I messed up. I only wanted to protect him. I overreacted. I was scared of losing him. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m only human. We make mistakes. This place is supposed to be a paradise for those who have suffered, not a place where suffering occurs to people.”

Lila didn’t respond to that.

”I should have been protecting both of you, and those precious feelings you shared together. I wanted to help, but my help wasn’t the right kind of help. So, I want to fix this. I want you to and my dear Saeran to be happy here. This could really be a place where those who have been hurt can come to seek comfort. But, I can’t do it alone. I need both of you. You both have shown me something I forgot long ago in the past. Will you give me the chance to fix it? I promise I will make things better if you do. If not for me, for Saeran. I can’t stand that he may be sad or hurting. Doesn’t he deserve to be happy… don’t you deserve to be happy…?”

Lila hesitated, and then she slowly nodded her head.

She didn’t have anything to do.

There was nothing but this.

If she didn’t give Rika a chance, then she could be sitting here in this toy box until she took her final breath. At the very least, if she agreed to this, then she could see the outside world again.

What could possibly go wrong?

Saeran… Ray… she missed them. She wondered how they were doing, and if they really had gotten away from Magenta. Or if they were hiding out somewhere from this place. By what Rika was saying, it sounded like they could have been nearby or still in contact with this place.

She needed to know.

She needed to talk with him.

Lila was just… tired.

She was tired of fighting, and she was tired of seeing these four walls and nothing more. She was starting to lose her mind. All she wanted was to be able to go back to the start. It hurt, it hurt a lot, and although that quiet voice in her head was telling her run, she just submitted.

“Okay. I’ll… trust you.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that. I promise you won’t regret this. You and Ray… you’ll be so happy together very soon.”

⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠—⁠

“Oh, dear, it looks like you need a bit of sprucing up before the prayer. Let’s just fix this for you, Ray,” she patted down his hair and made sure to carefully tame those messy locks underneath her fingers. She then removed the few wrinkles from his garment. “There, now you’re really looking like a real Savior.”

Saeran was quiet.

He was wearing his own variation of her ceremonial robes. She had made it for him, and he was… happy… to wear it. She had insisted that he needed to make things official, and although there was hesitance in his heart, he obeyed every word and order that she gave to him.

He let her fiddle with him as if she were trying to ready a child for their first school photo the morning of. He was used to her doing that and fawning over him. He slowly nodded his head in response once it clicked for him that she was speaking to him.

“…Thank you, my Savior.”

He had no choice, otherwise.

There had been no hope of escaping from Magenta. Why had he thought that he would be able to do that? The universe wanted him here, and everything always brought him back to her. If this was to be his existence, then he had to accept it from now on.

He didn’t dare think of those thoughts now.

Escape… fighting back… it all made him feel sick.

The only reason that he found the will to keep his body standing was because there was somebody holding his hand. It was clammy, and it was cold, but it was the touch of her hand that gave him the strength not to die. He could not die and leave her behind. She was dedicated to him, and he was dedicated to her being.

Paradise…

Paradise existed.

It was this place.

Why else wouldn’t he be able to leave?

Why else wouldn’t Lila be able to leave?

Clearly, they were meant to be here. This was the only way that he and Lila could ever be together. It was their own option. It was this, or endless days of solitude until they died. For her, he would do anything, and for him, she would clearly do the same.

Days… weeks… months… who knows how much time had passed. The elixir and the training tended to blur the memory of those who were too far deep into it. He was numb all the time, now.

She was numb, too.

Gone from her eyes was the light that had once glimmered and sparkled, the same eyes that had both fired him up and made him feel alive. There was a whisper of the old person inside of them but it would always be extinguished before she could crawl out of the darkness.

If he suffered, she suffered.

At the very least… they had each other in this.

Rika smiled at him. “You’ve done so well lately. Both of you have finally found your true potential, and today is the day we share that glory with everyone. I can’t believe things have finally come together the way that they were always meant to. It took a while for this to come to fruition, but the fruit of your labors will benefit all the believers from here on out.”

Her vision slid to the side where the other important person was. She reached out and brushed her fingers against Lila’s chin. “I’m just glad you could finally see our side of things, dear, after all that fighting and nonsense you spouted. Your loyalty is something to admire, isn’t it?”

“…Yes, of course,” Lila whispered.

“Your unwavering faith will help inspire those who resist the darkness, the true path to salvation. Paradise awaits so many under this new rule, I can’t wait to see how many we can save from misery.” Rika spoke with glee. She couldn’t wait to see how things would play out, delightfully so. “Now, it’s time for you to grant them a witness of your presence.”

“Oh, he’s here!”

And so, it began.

Rika watched as Saeran took his seat on the poppet in front of everyone. The murmurs began to quiet down as he raised his hand to silence them, and Lila took her place at his side. Her hands politely poised in front of herself as she smiled at the crowd. Her eyes did not meet that smile, but it mattered not.

All that mattered was that the world could see how much she believed in that boy, and she would not abandon him.

Saeran began to speak, and those words captivated the crowd with ease. He had learned very well in the past. “Poor souls who seek salvation, the eternal paradise awaits you here at Magenta. The outside world is a pit of defilement. We must cleanse the corrupted world, and that is why our pasts are scourged with darkness. Darkness and light will always be with us. We will all soon become the light of salvation.”

“Liar, you’re not the real Savior! We want the real Savior! Why isn’t anybody saying anything about this? Where did the Savior go?!”

Lila’s eyes trained on the sound of the voice.

“There is no Savior but the one that you see before you,” her voice was gentle and her tone was direct. All those who saw her knew that she lived and breathed those words. “He is kind, and he is gentle. He wishes to save all those who suffer in the cruel outside world. He saved me. I would be out there lost, hurting, suffering, miserable if he had not found me and shown me the light. He only wants to save all of us. Why would you ever insinuate that there has ever been anyone but my Savior?”

“Because that man is not my Savior!”

Rika pursed her lips from her spot to the side. She knew that there may be trouble from those who didn’t know any better. But, they could be taken care of with ease, no worries at all. “Security? Take away… that traitor,” she said, quietly.

“Understood.”

That unruly believer was removed from the room in the blink of an eye. It had to be done.

Saeran showed that he felt bad for that poor believer, but he continued on with his word. As he should do, the calmness in the center of the storm was the sign and mark of a very strong leader.

He nodded, “I do not fear change. I do not fear blame. We only seek to look ahead and build a paradise for all. I only wish to deliver the words of salvation to all. The authorities of politics, everyday society, culture, and media, they all seek us. That means they agree we’re right. The Mint Eye has never been more powerful, and we will be even more powerful tomorrow. We will bring salvation to every corner of the world.”

“For eternal paradise,” Lila said.

“For eternal paradise,” Saeran echoed her words.

The crowd erupted into a lovely chorus of cheers and cries of hopeful folks who could and would be saved. The rest of the world was next, and Rika could not wait to see it happen.

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pianoperson · 5 years

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Time to break my own heart (✿´‿`) Star, how about some JonaLot with "I told you to leave but you didn't. I gave you the chance!"? Why do I want to make myself suffer? I'm not sure! Thank youuu darling in advance 💕

A/N: Alright finally, after going through lack of motivation and time, I finally got to do these requests! And I’m already 9 followers away from 400 djfgsdkshjdkfs (assuming they’re real and there are no bots).

This one was hard to do, and at one point, I wanted to translate this into Tagalog because it sounded more fitting in that language (and also, I need to practice), and it has gone through so many revisions. I’m gonna tag @narekashi because she’s the one that helped me get a good idea for this request so yeahhhhhhh thanks Rei.

The people of Cradle easily recognized the figure passing through Central Quarter, with his blond hair that shone in the sun and his regal aura. All talk ceased for a moment when they caught sight of him walking, for seeing him out of his army uniform was like watching a pig fly. But just as quickly, they noticed the dullness of his blue eyes, the eyebags underneath them, and the flowers in his hands, and their hearts reached out to him in sympathy, and they would return to what they were doing.

Even as he was about to cross, not even the soldiers guarding the Black Bridge stopped him. Some even gave sympathetic glances while he wasn’t looking.

Thus, Lancelot Kingsley’s walk to the cemetery was silent and uneventful.

The last time he ever visited the place felt like ages ago. Visiting his father’s grave was painful, and Lancelot remembered shedding a few tears. But he could not recall ever being very close with him, only spending their time on training to become the future King of Hearts, so moving on was not too difficult.

However, this was different.

The person he was visiting was much closer to his heart. Every step he took while passing through Central Quarter and Black Territory, he found himself remembering every conversation they shared. His mind’s eye was recalling the vibrance of his eyes, the brightness of his smile, the redness of his cheeks as he pouted. He could almost hear the small voice of the child from 17 years ago, trembling and helpless, and the more confident voice in the recent past that had a lilt to it when he spoke of desserts and family, a flustered tone when he was embarrassed, and other tones and emotions Lancelot remembered and loved. And most certainly, he can never forget how this person made his heart warm each time he was there, motivated him to continue fighting for the sake of Cradle if it means he could continue to see him smile, reminded him that perhaps there is a God that exists who did not completely abandon him.

And each memory that played in his head caused the lump in his throat to grow until he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore, continuing to crack the dam that desperately tried to stay intact. For a moment, he wondered why he thought he was ready to visit the cemetery today.

It was too late to turn back, however. Anyway, Lancelot delayed this for a month and he did not want to delay it any longer.

Once he arrived at the cemetery, his eyes, a stark contrast to the bright sun overhead, searched through every epitaph, reading every name written on each one, until he found the name he was looking for.

And a part of him wished he never found the epitaph, never saw the name Jonah Clemence, for the moment he read it, he felt his knees threatening to fail him.

Still, he was able to lay the flowers he carried among the many other flowers on the grave, and stand up, staring at the ground where his right-hand man lay buried.

“I told you to leave, but you didn’t. I gave you the chance! You could have been safe and alive!”

The words resounded in his head, an echo of his frustration over Jonah interfering in a battle that was supposed to be his because no way would he want his beloved to be in harm’s way, a painful reminder that these were the last words Jonah were to hear from the man he admired so much.

“I’m… I’m sorry, my King. I- I just… wanted to make sure you were not harmed…”

“... Jonah? Jonah no please, wake up, I’m sorry. I should not have gotten mad at you. Get angry at me again for not taking care of myself, talk about Luka all day to me again until the day ends, talk about your love for strawberries again, just please wake up Jonah please I love you–”

Lancelot felt a tear slid down his cheek before he felt himself break, his body trembling as he cried. He wept tears of anger at the man who not only controlled him like a puppet master but took Jonah away from him, regret for not giving him a proper goodbye, and frustration for not being able to protect him and give him the love and acceptance he deserved while he was still alive.

I’m sorry, Jonah, he kept repeating in his head, not trusting his lips to say it.

“Lancelot?”

The tears ceased, and his eyes widened. That voice. It can’t be. He turned around to see who called him, and behold, he saw Jonah Clemence, in his casual attire, alive and well.

And his legs started to move on their own, running to where he is. Everything seemed to fade away and the only thing in his mind is the fact that Jonah is there, alive, and for once, God decided to have mercy on his broken soul.

“Lance–?!”

He hugged Jonah, holding him as if he will suddenly disappear again. He couldn’t believe how warm Jonah’s body is, how alive he is. For the first time since his battles with Amon Jabberwock, Lancelot Kingsley was smiling, and his smile was so much brighter than any star that existed.

“I can’t believe it, you’re alive,” he breathed out. It took everything in him to not fall to his knees in sheer relief. “I missed you so much, Jonah.”

“Wait Lancelot, you’ve mistaken.” Luka pushed him off of him. “It’s me, Luka.”

The illusion fell away at once, and instead of seeing mint hair and a mole below the right eye, he saw longer purple hair and a mole below the left eye. At once, his expression became crestfallen, but he quickly fixed it to a neutral one. “Oh, Jack of Spades, I did not expect to see you here.”“I came here to visit my brother’s grave,” Luka said.

“Oh, I see.”

A moment of silence passed between the two men. “I best be leaving now,” Lancelot said before he started walking away from Luka and the cemetery.

“Wait, before you go,” Luka started, causing Lancelot to pause in his tracks and turn to the former. “I just want to say, I’m sorry. I may have lost my brother, but you have lost someone you wanted to share the rest of your life with.”

#ikerev #ikemen revolution #lancelot kingsley #jonah clemence #luka clemence #ikerev fanfic

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mimir-anoshe · 4 years

Text

💧&🔥

Just a bit of Cursed/Nimulot analysis… Cause I’m bored. And I might have found some interesting parallels/imagery watching it through for the 7 billionth time that I would love to share. If anyone enjoys writing meta… Which I mean I know some of y’all need your fix… Feel free to use anything/expand upon it. I would, but I’m a new fur-mumma and she’s taking up all my waking hours, so this little shit-post about this new hell hole of a ship I’ve dove headfirst into will have to do. The images are from a video and show produced by Netflix, I own nothing, so pls don’t be a bitch about it Tumblr.

***SPOILERS FOR THE SHOW!!! WATCH IT AND COME BACK!! OR DON’T? ANYHOO YOU’VE BEEN WARNED!!*** ⚠️

- beware Tumblr app users, it may be your doom -

Where to begin, with the teaser? Or with…

THE SHOW! Here be just a wee few times the writers/director(s) through the writing/cinematography have mirrored these two ‘protect the kid - warriors till the end’ idiots. I’m sure others have picked up on them… Not in any particular order, here ya go anyway.

1x02 - 1x10

*Insert spiderman pointing at spiderman meme*

One scar made by an actual dark god tricking her when she was a child, the others by a very human evil tricking him when he was a child and the consequences for both lasting into adulthood.

1x02 - 1x10

Look at the years of trauma Anakin, look at it! They even use the same damn word! The phonetic tones of disgust! The outcast syndrome! Oof. (And it’s not like Nimue being called demon has to do with a general racial-slur from a human, that is a fey calling her that from her own village!) They both grew up viewing themselves as “demons”, the “abominations”. Even their expressions are the same, fear and sorrow and self-hatred. All they both want is to be accepted! (By their fathers especially). To be loved.

The two who are “cursed.”

1x02 - 1x01

*says nothing*

1x04 - 1x01

“Where to begin? With water or with fire?”

Where to begin? WHERE TO BEGIN??? *dies*

Water ☯ Fire

Sword up ☯ Sword down

Light/Day ☯ Dark/Shadow

Life & Death (Life around her, death in the water) ☯ Death & Life (forest fires make way for new growth)

Long bit: Both characters are associated to the elements of water and fire individually through the environment/cinematography/colour pallet/colour symbolism, and then water and fire is mirrored between them. She is overall water, he is overall fire; but they also have a bit of the other in each other.

For Nimue this symbolism is often done through her environment, showing her connection to nature as the fey queen and that she does not hide who she is if she can help it. She does not hide externally, so her elemental symbolism becomes EXTERNAL.

Whilst for Lancelot though he is often surrounded by fire, the idea of water/tears is either symbolised through the fairy tale style of the artwork or referenced for him through his name as “the weeping monk.” Hinted at in his characterisation of guilt and self-loathing, the way other characters respond to him (”the one who cries”/”you see it all through those weeping eyes”). His main conflict is an Internal fight between who he is and who he needs to become, so a lot of his main symbolism surrounding water (and even fire as pertaining to magic - ashfolk - and not killing fey) is INTERNALISED, hidden, cut off from the Hidden themselves. Symbolic of him hiding his connection to the fey and that other side of himself, the “human” (morally speaking) side, and therefore hiding who he truly is… Lancelot.

For Nimue, fire means life. Being chosen and her magic saving people. For Lancelot fire means Death, his deeds, “the fires of hell” and the destruction of the “ash” folk and his heritage. He believes hell fire is his fate, going by the “even if I am damned.”

For Nimue, water means death. In the water she takes revenge, where that Paladin almost drowned her. Into the water she falls, where they think her shot dead by arrows. The water is her fate as the Lady of the Lake. For Lancelot, water means life. Tears, emotions, taking responsibility, feeling the weight of his guilt and mourning for the things he has done/lost. For him, water - not ash -means a second chance to be better. To put out the fires and heal.

Though in the end, for both of them, water & fire most of all represent death and rebirth.

1x03

^If you don’t understand I can’t help you. ☯

1x01 - 1x07

Now this one I found quite interesting. Remember that even if Nimue directed the second one, it is still the Power/will of the Hidden at play. (Or should I say the will of the Writers/director) Chosen? Mirrors? Night and Day? Fire… Embers to Ashes? We shall see, but I think it was definitely on purpose.

^I’ll just leave that here, the fuckers kept missing each other for an entire season (WHICH WAS ON PURPOSE THE WRITERS DID THAT ON PURPOSE just as an fyi). The fact that there is this much sexual tension, anticipation, mirroring, fate, destiny and chemistry between two characters who have never even mET should be ILLEGAL! They affect each other immeasurably without ever even meeting, so imagine what will happen when they do...? *pterodactyl screech*

Whelp there ye go. Under the next gif I also did a bit on the Teaser trailer, as that just fucked me up a bit I have to tell you! Up to you whether you want to continue digesting my mad ramblings or not. *Shrug* Thanks for coming to my TED talk guys– 😂 Somebody fucking smite me down like the eldritch horror of writing I am dear god think of the children…

THE OFFICIAL TEASER TRAILER:

Arthur running for the Sword of Power, because you know, King Arthur.

“The Legend says…” The Legend of King Arthur and his Sword Excalibur/Caliburnus? The line is very meta, a reference to the in world legend that this story will create, but it’s also expecting the audience to be savvy of the actual legend of King Arthur and his knights. Both these ideas intertwined into one. Aka, the trailer expects us to have pre-decided expectations for the story we’re now being told, because we’ve already been told it before; this fairy tale of celtic myth/history. All the “spoilers” about Arthur, his lineage, Morgana, Guinevere, the Knights, even the lady of the Lake herself come with that knowledge. However…

Surprise surprise, the Weeping Monk (killer of fae)/ Lancelot (eventually Arthur’s most trusted KNIGHT) instead picks up the fae sword from it being embedded in the ground, subverting our expectation, it definitely fucking subverted mine, but not in a GOT way, in a ~good~ way. I was like, “Whosoever be this fine hooded fellow hath stole away both sword and my good sense!!! 👀”

Also harkening back to the legend of the sword in the stone (another expectation), which the action itself signifies that person be - as Merlin so eloquently puts - “The one true king.”

Ok… Symbolic wink wink nudge nudge towards his true nature (inside and out), saving Percival, potentially becoming the greatest warrior and protector of his people and eventually a Knight of the Round Table; and perhaps King of our Hearts??? Ok, sure thing “concept” trailer. I’ll bite.

Ok… *deep breath*

WHOMSt the fUCK decided to frame (fae “ashman”) ?Lancelot? with the ~SWORD OF KINGS~ (also of fae origin) A N D the line…‘the one true king’ ALL IN ONE… instead of Arthur?

‘BELONGS to the one true King?’ Belongs, hmm interesting word choice… This done in a worms eye view shot meant to make the viewer feel like the character is above/superior/basically we’re kneeling before them? (Which I mean sure? but…) Hmm??? HMMM??? I don’t understand CONCEPT Trailer what is the CONCEPT you’re trying to get across? One hand on his paladin sword and the other on “fae hope” Excalibur I get, he has to make an important decision, one that will either save his humanity (and his people) or destroy it (them), yeah yeah sure that’s F I N E…

…but what about the “KING” SHIT HMMM?? Is there something you would like to share with the rest of the class? *sips tea whilst staring straight into the camera*

it may mean nothing don’t quote me

…Anwaaaay… We all know in a fight Lancelot can kick Arthur’s ass so that’s not whats going on here. Arthur is P I S S E D. They’re not just bog standard enemies here. I mean WPM kicking him in the ribs was pretty “fuck you” and they were just enemies there. In this instance the sword is in play, Weeping Monk has taken something from Arthur that he feels “BELONGS” to him - in this case symbolised by WPM taking “his” sword - and that’s making it personal.

“You stole my sword ya bitch!” And what is the sword linked to? Power? Sure. The right of being a King? Yep. And also a certain Queen… No no no, this is the Concept of rivalry. It shows that whatever relationship Arthur and his “Knight” will have in the future after all the “die die die” starts to sizzle down will - in its genesis - be a rivalry. Probably mirroring Gawain and Arthur when they first met to an extent. A rivalry for power? For something else? Who Knows!

*whistles innocently*

And down down down he goes. He’s FALLING. There are many metaphorical concepts associated to FALLING… Falling from “grace” (in the eyes of the Church)… Falling because he has a sky full of guilt crashing down upon him… falling for h… falling in Lo… into the Water!!!! Until he is completely submerged. Water, the idea of cleansing, of washing away who you once were/trauma/sins of the past so you may be reborn a better version of yourself. His old ideals are defeated, he submits to his true heritage and allows it to wash around him so he may begin to heal.

Though if we’re talking metaphors, water is - for obvious reasons - always associated with the LADY OF THE LAKE… Nimue. He has fallen into her world. (pss he’s gonna fall for the Chick in the Lake - I think - there ye go). Water is associated to memory/reflections and mirrors. And he is CRASHING through this mirror… This idea of reflections/mirror images is even more ironic when you’ve watched the show.

And as he falls beneath the water with the sword of a King, she rises out of it, with the sword of a Queen… Mirror mirror on the wall, who’s in the biggest shipping hell of them all? Either these two are going to be really good at relay, or there’s some conceptual significance here. The specifics? No fecking clue, will need to wait for a season 2! There is also some interesting use of Z~oo~m in this last bit, but I’m sure it’s pretty obvious to you all. Summary: just visually in a concept “teaser” trailer, the zoom in on them both, the reverse mirroring, the literal and symbolic visual of water and the Sword (of rulers) connecting them frames these two characters together, that’s just in the concept trailer. Links their legend together. TBH IT LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE LANCELOT FELL INTO THE WATER AND TURNED INTO NIMUE WHAT IS THIS GREEK SOULMATE SHIT I’M–

*calms down* This trailer and the show also definitely said to the original Arthurian Legend “RIP but I’m different.” I mean, Nimue is definitely not Lancelot’s mother figure in this one, that’s all I’m saying.

I think this legend might be a wee bit different 😉*cackles*

#nimulot #nimulot meta #nimue x the weeping monk #nimue x weeping monk #cursed spoilers #nimue x lancelot #my meta #mad mimir meanderingly mumbles #Tumblr is my only escape for this - I wouldn't go near twitter with a thousand foot pole if my life depended on it #where to begin? I don't think I'll ever get over that line - I die every time #my pupper was literally like 'mum what the fuck are you doing writing this shit give me LOVES'#also Nimue owns my heart if Lancelot doesn't marry her I'm going to thanks BYE #my shitty humour~~

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