#who loved to ride and was especially close to her manservant

[groundbreakingdot872]

Ever think about the fact that Uther fell in love with a corpse?

That Catrina was dead, had already been dead for weeks, when the troll strutted into court wearing her face

And speaking of the origins of their plan- the troll had likely scavenged the estate of Tregor after the invasion minutes after the event, kicking bodies out the way on her instinctual hunt gold

Instead of finding anything valuable, which the bandits had already taken, she found pretty personal belongings, too lesser for a thief... and the lady that they belonged too.

Brutally murdered maybe, but intact enough to be recreated, and impersonated.

Finding her manservant’s body fallen nearby made the idea too easy to conceive, a "Jonas" in hand and the personal items of Catrina ruthlessly ripped away, the plan wealth beyond their imagining was already in motion

And then in the aftermath, of the whole horrid, gruesome, embarrassing affair, when the rumors had died down enough…

Uther must’ve gone quietly, in the early hours of the morning, to visit Catrina’s grave - the real Catrina

Laid flowers, and shed a few private tears over the woman he had never met, but had strong feelings for, perhaps love. Her physique and voice had enchanted him, in more ways than one, and temporarily given him a happy out from the sins of the past

Though it must've unsettled him, that he had fallen for the figment of a woman, not even a ghost, and pledged his entire Kingdom in a heartbeat over a pleasant if pitying face

Although I'm sure the irony, of beloveds coming back to the present, wearing marred faces with a masked intent for vengeance over ghosts of his evils, must have eluded him...

[hopelessromantic5]

Arthur isn’t exactly stealthy when he sees something he likes.

Those who had known Arthur for most of his life also know that when something captures his attention, that’s it.

It takes over everything.

First, at five, it was horse back riding. He would spend all day in the stables, learning everything he could about the majestic beasts. He would ride as often as his father allowed.

Then when he joined the official knights in training at eight summers, he became thirsty for success. He wanted to be the best, unbeatable.

And so, he was. He became a well sharpened blade neatly tucked into his father’s arsenal.

Nothing came close to his love for a sword until he was thirteen, and he met a girl named Druella. Dru was the younger sister of one of Arthur’s fellow knights, yet still a few years ahead of him.

He would watch her walk to and from town, every day, thinking how beautiful she looked in her finery, how her hair was always perfect, never one out of place.

This love lasted the least amount of time, because while Arthur claimed to himself that he loved her, he’d never actually spoken to her.

When he finally got up the nerve to introduce himself, and she did nothing but sneer at him and walk away, he finally let his silly little crush rest in the dirt under his riding boots.

Years went by. The citizens of Camelot and especially the staff of the castle, continued to watch Arthur grow and mature and come into his own thoughts. His own beliefs.

Still, dancing with his sword held the biggest place in his heart.

That was until a fateful day in beautiful spring time.

There were some familiar faces in the square that day, watching on as a boy intervened with the Prince’s ridiculous bullying.

First, they were thankful for it.

And then they all witnessed the moment Prince Arthur laid eyes on this boy, and that was it.

They’d seen it before, and this was no different.

Arthur Pendragon had found a new obsession.

Uther didn’t know what he was signing the entire kingdom up for when he bestowed Merlin with such a privilege as being the prince’s manservant. He probably thought nothing on it, as often as Arthur fired manservants, surely this one will be gone faster than the others.

Boy, was he mistaken.

Arthur lied to himself about it for some time. Acting as if his servant was the worst he’d ever seen, or how he hated to have to show this boy how to do something simple.

What betrayed him were his eyes, they followed Merlin everywhere in the room. Watching him do every task, standing to aid when it was needed, even if it came with a huff of exasperation for show.

Everyone could see it. Hell, even Leon caught onto it. The only people who had yet to realize were the prince himself, and the boy. Merlin. He was as oblivious to Arthur’s eyes as Arthur was to Merlin’s sickeningly sweet face when the prince’s back was turned.

Merlin was usually very observant.

But when it came to Arthur, he had a blind spot.

Perhaps this is why Arthur found out the big secret a few weeks after Merlin arrived in Camelot.

He’d made a habit of entering his room quietly, so he might see Merlin without being seen himself. Though, Arthur doesn’t acknowledge that’s the reason, it definitely is.

This particular day, practice ended early on account of the storm rolling in. Tiny drops of water were already covering the ground, packing the dirt into stone.

As he silently entered his own chambers, he heard humming. Knowing it must be Merlin. Who else would be in his room humming?

The Prince stayed partially hidden by the chest of drawers nearest the door. Merlin was putting tunics away in the cupboard. His hands were gentle with them, like they were precious. Even if he did it in a bit of a hurry, seemingly.

Merlin must’ve felt a draft or remembered the rain, because he stopped his humming turning to the fire place, and without lifting a single finger or uttering a word, he lights the fire.

By looking at it.

Arthur first thought his sight deceived him but there was no denying that he’d just seen Merlin’s eyes turn gold. A blinding golden light that can only come from something divine.

The Prince tries to even out his breathing so as not to give away his presence. It’s not that he’s fearful, merely caught off guard, which he tried never to be. Arthur was almost a grown man, and he’d met people in his time that told him he could be different than Uther. He could rule a different Kingdom.

And maybe that all starts with this strange boy that fell from the sky into Arthur’s world.

The Prince had hardly seen Merlin do anything with that kind of skill or confidence. Arthur had been around enough dark sorcerers to know that even the powerful ones need words, crystals, a big book with lots of words he can’t read.

Merlin had done this like it was nothing.

Just how powerful was he?

[darkuselesssomebody]

𝕡𝕦𝕡𝕡𝕪 - dark!basil stitt x dark!reader

complete masterlist

words || 𝟛.𝟟𝕜

summary || in which the reader is a manipulative bitch - and basil snaps because of it

a/n || this is really, really dark lowkey eek!! also i don't know if this is too late (it's still 2023 where i am) but this is my entry for @romana-after-dark's dead dove december event! if you're into dark content, they're an s-tier pedro and oscar writer!

➵ warnings for specific content before the divider

➵ i never watched lightningface so if he's ooc excuse me, also, reader is very manipulative and lowkey a bad person too!!

➵ not proofread

➵ comment/message if you'd have a request

warnings || smut/dark (dddne)

➵ unwanted creampie and sex

➵ unprotected sex and cunnilingus

➵ spanking and slapping

➵ manipulation

➵ death threats and some pain play-ish stuff

➵ degradation/name calling

“tell me about it, right?” she giggles into the phone, feet propped up as she lays back on her couch, hearing some tinkering in the kitchen, “yeah, sorry about that, jas, that’s just - i’m getting my sink fixed right now.”

in the bathroom, basil hears that, and smiles a little to himself. she sounded appreciative, right? he’s helping make her life easier, which is what matters.

after a few more minutes, he’s done, and he sits back, sighing in relief. he sits back up, coming out and seeing her on the couch. god, is she gorgeous. her body stretches out, allowing a little glimmer of skin as her shirt rides up. she’s got a big grin on her face, talking to her friend, and she wants to just go over and press a sweet kiss to her lips.

“yeah, he was mental, i swear i’m still sore!” she jokes to her friend, and his face falls. ‘he’? who is ‘he’? basil swallows. it must just be a PT or something. yeah, that was it. after managing to convince himself, his smile returns. maybe she’d like a massage?

approaching her with that grin on his face, she looks up at him with an expectant raise of her brow, “just a second, jas.” she takes the phone away from her ear.

“done?” she points to her bathroom.

“yep!” he responds excitably, and she hums - not in appreciation, but in expectancy.

“good. thanks.” but it’s out of habit, “bye, basil” she forces a smile, shooing him off.

to him, it’s a wave, “yeah, see you! wanna - um, i was wondering if you maybe wanted me to order some food for you tonight? maybe we could eat together?” he suggests, and she has to resist a roll of her eyes.

“we’ll see.” she curtly dismisses him, and he nods, leaving and closing the door of her house, returning to his own just across the hall. returning to her phone call, she scoffs, “god, did you hear that?” her voice lowers - the walls are thin, “yeah, jas, he’s that neighbor i told you about. total loser, but he does whatever i want.” she giggles, “he thinks i’m gonna fuck him. whatever, that’s not my problem. can you imagine, he buys me food, he fixes my shit, i get him to vacuum sometimes. like my own little manservant.”

like her little dog.

basil was painfully in love with his neighbor. she was just so sweet, she paid him attention, and sometimes - when she was a little drunk or was sleepy, she’d lay against him, cuddling. the feeling of her thighs against his own, her breath on her chest, or the way her fingers teasingly toyed with the hem of his shirt - right above his cock.

maybe he didn’t have only holy intentions - yeah, maybe he did want to fuck her - but he’d never be greedy for more than what she gave him, not wanting to ruin their relationship.

and it paid off, that one night she had been wine drunk, and had invited him over, asking for only the cheap gift of thai food in return for her priceless company. as they sat back on her couch, watching tv as she ate and drank, there was a point where her hand had wandered - bored by the movie. her head laid on his chest, a leg hooked around his own, especially touchy because it was a cold night - and he was warm. as basil breathed in the smell of her perfume, he could imagine them to be dating or - if he could imagine a small glimmer on her finger - married. he held her around the waist softly, and she hadn’t yet pulled away, much to his joy.

her hand slowly trails over his chest and then his biceps, before sitting up a little, and pulling his head down to his. her lips find his, as she breathes into his mouth. it’s a lazy kiss, purely driven by the alcohol, and her need for warmth and contact.

his eyes widen in shock, but he wouldn’t let this opportunity go to waste, pulling her closer and - while he let her lead the kiss - his fingers go to her hair, pulling it out of her face to kiss her better. she whimpers softly, arms wrapping around his neck, before finally pulling away. she hums in satisfaction, burying her face in his neck.

“goodnight.” she mumbles, promptly falling asleep on top of him. his head reels, but he’s on cloud 9.

“goodnight.” he kisses the top of her head, laying back as he also lets himself fall asleep.

they never spoke about it again.

she didn’t let herself get drunk with him anymore, and he cursed himself as to how to solve the issue. nonetheless, they still spent time together, and he would still do anything for her, but things were different.

but her mind was working differently. annoyingly, that kiss with basil was getting her disgustingly hot and bothered. this wasn’t the plan: she wasn’t planning to ever actually fuck him, lest she lose all the leverage she had been building by teasing him. that’s why she’d been so strict in not touching him for the next few weeks: reducing her temptation.

but it was getting too much. she spent far too much time with her hands between her thighs, thinking of him (but nothing close to how much he’d do the same for her), and she needed an out. but, she also had to make sure basil wouldn’t become confident, and stay out of line.

she had an idea.

she called him over that night. an ordinary thing to occur, but, when he joins her shortly after, his mouth falls open.

she’s in this gorgeous, deeply hued camisole that just does down to her hips, and as his eyes travel lower, the lacy panties she wears makes his breath catch. she has to bite her lip to stop the smirk that threatens to grace it.

“basil.” she murmurs her name, and he snaps out of it, finally looking up at her.

“what… are you doing?” he thickly swallows.

“you don’t like it?” she teases, and he immediately shakes his head fervently.

“no - no - you… you look…” he doesn’t know how to describe it, “beautiful.” perhaps a cliche - but he doesn’t use it in the standard way. she exactly embodies the word. for once, a genuine smile pulls at her lips. it makes her heart warm, and she almost feels bad for what she’s about to do.

almost.

she gestures him forward, and he stumbles due to the speed at which he tries to reach her. finally, once he does, she points to the couch.

“sit.” she orders, and he agrees, getting on the couch, rubbing his hands in anticipation. “you’re not very subtle, basil.” she murmurs, slowly sitting on his lap. his cheeks burn.

“s-sorry?”

“you know how hard it is when you wanna hang out with your good friend, and you know all he’s thinking about is fucking you?” her voice is vicious, and he swallows thickly.

“i’m sorry.” he whispers, looking into her eyes, an evident begging in them. he’s pleading that she’ll forgive him. her fingers go to gently weave through his hair.

“it’s hard… you know?” she says softly, playing the victim to a tee, “i thought that… maybe that’s the only thing you see when you look at me.” she admits - but it’s a complete lie.

“never, oh - oh my god.” the thought makes basil sick. she - she thinks he sees her as an object?! “i swear, i see you as so much more than that - yes, you’re fucking gorgeous, but you’re so much more than just your body!” he assures, but she pretends to already be hurt.

“you’re just saying that, you know i’ll give myself up to you with these sweet words and-” he says her name softly.

“don’t think like that, please, don’t think like that.” he begs, taking her hands, “how - how can i show you how much you mean to me. please, tell me, and i’ll do it.” he’s holding her hands so tenderly, he wants to lavish her in ways she’s never even thought of.

she goes quiet, and he’s dead terrified he’s lost her.

“i want you to forget any insecurity you may ever have, i want to make sure you never lift a finger, i want you to never yearn and to only be satisfied.” his voice is thin - needy. “i want to worship you.”

that’s what she needs to hear.

“you do?” she murmurs.

“i’m begging you to let me show you how much you mean to me.” there it is. she smirks.

“can i… suggest something?” she asks - in faux timidness.

“anything.” he assures her.

“maybe… so i feel the most… assured… if we have sex, can i take charge?” he blinks. it’s not much different than their current relationship, so he immediately agrees.

“of course, of course. that’s totally fine.” he assures, and she smiles.

“alright, good - that’s good. thank you, basil!” she chirps, and his heart warms.

“yeah, of course.”

but that’s when the switch occurs.

“get off the couch.” she orders, and he blinks, a little shocked by her flip from a shy tone to a commanding one, but he complies, standing up.

she takes his place, sitting on the couch, before looking at him expectantly, “on your knees, c’mon.” his cheeks heat, as his brow furrows curiously, falling to his knees. “you said you wanna worship me, right?” she smirks, when he nods, “take off my socks.” she orders, the woolly socks that he knew she wore as she was always cold felt itchy against his fingers, as he pulls them off. she hums happily, and raises a brow when he presses a kiss to each sole, “fuck, i knew you were freaky.”she giggles, letting him kiss her ankles, “how much have you thought about this?” a small whimper escapes his throat.

“a-ages.” he admits, and she smiles.

“okay, stop.” she commands, and he stops his mouthing of her feet, “come closer.” he places her calves over her shoulders, shuffling closer to her - and, as much as he tried to be respectable about it, his eyes fell onto the small breadth of her covered by her underwear. she held his forehead - almost brutishly - to deter him, “behave. did i say you could look at her?” she scolds him, and he bites his lip.

“no, i’m sorry.” smiling, she lets go of his head.

“what should i do with you now?” she whispers, and he looks at her thighs pleadingly.

“can i touch your thighs? can i feel you?” he begs, and she laughs.

“go on.” she assures, as she pets his hair. he really is like her little puppy.

kissing up her thighs, she inhales her scent, brain going into overload.

“oh - oh, please, let me taste you, please!” she begs, and she smirks. he was begging - just as she wanted.

“take my panties off.” she whispers, and he sighs in relief, as if a massive weight has been taken off his shoulders.

"oh - oh, thank you - thank you," he breathes out, inching closer to let his fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, pulling them past her thighs and down, off her ankles.

when she finally spreads her legs, his mouth waters as the pretty prize between them, biting his lip.

"can i taste you?" he wants to confirm it. his body's buzzing, he needs her so bad.

"how bad do you want it?" she goads, and he bites her tongue.

"i don't think i can explain it." he admits, and her cheeks warm. what a compliment.

"yes, you can taste me." lowering his head slowly to her cunt, he spreads her legs, holding onto her thighs that are draped over his shoulders tightly. goosebumps erupt over her flesh at the sensation of his breath on her skin.

"you're wet?" he asks excitedly, unbelieving that he can coax this reaction from her.

"I'm not exactly feeling patient, basil." she warns, and he swallows.

"yeah, okay." he licks up the length of her cunt, and her breath hitches, catching in her throat as she puts her hand over her mouth, gently biting a knuckle to disguise her moan. motivated by the action, he spreads her wider, licking experimentally and quickly, sucking softly and harshly, making sure to keep trying different things until one finally breaks her dam of willpower, and her back arches as she loudly moans into the otherwise empty apartment.

"oh my god-" she cries out, panting as her hand clutches his hair, pulling him closer into her weeping cunt, desperate for his continued ministrations, "use your fingers." she gasps out, and he immediately obliges, bringing a finger to her hole as he sucks at her clit. he slowly pushes it into her, and - per more whimpered instructions from her - he curls his finger inside her, making her thighs squeeze around his head,

"just like that, keep doing just that." she assures, looking at him with the closest thing to love that she feels for him - desperation and satisfaction, because good lord, is she close. but it can't end like this. she needs to make this last longer.

just as she feels herself on the precipice of her climax, she pulls his head away from her cunt - to both her and his chagrin.

"why?" he whines, simultaneously pulling out his fingers, as she struggles to catch her breath. using him to help herself up, she stands, looking down at him.

"get on the couch." she pants, and he does as he asks, "take your shirt off," the instruction continues, and his deft fingers - one still drenched in her slick - quickly unbutton the shirt, pulling it off his broad frame. she bites her lip, bending so that her fingers can reach his fly and jean button, swiftly undoing them.

"i'm gonna fuck you. and you're just gonna take whatever i give to you, understood?" he nods silently as he looks up at her, and she hums in satisfaction and she pulls down his trousers. seeing his eyes all blown out is a crazy power trip, and it all becomes better as she straddles him. palming his hard cock through his boxers, she notices the way he twitches and how his moans gargle in his throat, all while he desperately bucks until her hips. "keep your hands behind your back." she instructs, and he nods, a whimper bubbling up to his tongue. after his hands are securely behind his back, she sighs happily. truly, she could do anything to him now, and he'd just take it. she wanted to know how much he could handle.

she started by fishing out his - inexplicably impressive cock. it was almost comical - how little sex appeal he oozed while hiding this weapon away from the rest of the world.

then, she simply ghosted her fingers over his tip, owning to a few stuttered bucks of his hips. she returned each of those with a scolding smack on any skin she could find - usually, his chest.

she slowly raised to her knees, lining him up with her entrance as she looks down at him, "don't move without permission." she whispers, and a strangled groan releases from him, making her laugh. finally, though, when he agrees, she sinks down on him, moaning out behind her hand as he does the same - though without the muffle and rather unashamedly.

she doesn’t move for a moment, and he waits.

another moment, and he waits.

another, and he’s done. he starts thrusting up, wanting the both of them to chase their pleasure, and her eyes widen, as she slaps his cheek. stunned, his movements immediately stop.

he dared to go against her word?

she hated that he undermined the power she held over him. pulling at his hair, her eyes blow out in anger.

“who the fuck do you think you are?” she hisses, and he winces.

“i’m sorry-” he tries, but she slaps him again.

“you think we’re equals? you can just pull that shit?” he wonders where all this anger is coming from, almost fearful. she doesn’t want to admit that her rage stems from the fact that she liked the sensation of his thrusts - enough to almost just… let him continue, even against her orders. she can’t lose that power she has on him, “you wanna know how little you really fucking matter?” she growls, grabbing her phone, and thrusting it in his face.

still disoriented, he swallows as he looks at what she’s showing him - a chain of texts. about him. they’re from her, to her friends, all mocking and making fun of him.

his heart, quite literally, shatters. he had thought this entire time, that - though they may be little more than friends - she at least liked his company, liked hanging out with him, appreciated him. but now, to read her stating how annoying and clingy he is, how she hated hanging out with him, but accepted it whenever he came with some gift or food, how she had used him, a heartbreak made his blood pump harshly in his ears. but when he glances at her smug smile behind the phone, it’s not just heartbreak. it’s rage.

“is this real?” he whispers, voice so low she can barely hear him.

“aww, poor puppy, thought i was - what? in love with you?” she mocks, knowing he won’t do a thing in retaliation.

that’s where she’s wrong.

trembling in rage, he grabs her phone, throwing it ferociously onto the floor, breaking it immediately. her eyes widen in shock, but before she can shout at him, his hands wrap around her throat, choking her with such a rage - she’s worried he might break her windpipe.

she claws at his hands, as he pulls her off of him, and slams her, face first, into the couch. her eyes well as she feels her nose smash into it, pained to hell as she cries out, trying to clutch it, but it’s of no help, as he’s already sinking back into her tight, wet, and suddenly rejecting cunt. but his pulling cock gets past the resistance bottoming out with a gurgled sigh of satisfaction. his hands go back to her throat, with a softer hold, as he wants to feel her pulse under his fingers. tearfully, she looks back at him in terror.

“basil, what are you-” he slaps her ass so hard, she wonders if his palm took her flesh with it. crying out, she sobs, giving up entirely, as she looks away, still clutching her nose.

“shut the fuck up, bitch.” he hisses harshly, voice and cadence not only deadly - but lethal, as his fingers flex experimentally on her throat. pulling her up so her back is pressed against his chest, and his other hand palms her tits, something he’d been wishing to do so long. but in his fantasies - he’s delicate, not so much anymore, as he roughly tweaks and pinches and grips her nipples.

then again, she’s a different woman than what he’d imagined as well.

this time, he’s not slow in his thrusts, he’s harsh and mean, thrusting in and out of her cunt to the sweet melody of her cries and sobs, muffled by the hand clutching her now bleeding nose. his moans are loud and gruff in her ear, causing an overlord of her senses, and she’s terrified.

“i should fucking kill you.” he hisses, and she whimpers, sobbing harder, “but you’re too good - of - a - fuck!” he punctuates every word with a thrust, but his voice sounds almost sweet and reassuring - only able to be distinguished as a facade due to the undertone of a growl behind every word.

“i’m sorry, please-” she begs, but he slaps her ass again, thrusting deeper, as he hits her cervix with each thrust, making her cry out in pain.

“did i say you could speak?” he hisses. she shakes her head, terrified, and shutting up. he’s getting close. unfortunately, she is too, “calling me a fucking puppy, saying you’re my fucking master - whose cunt’s the one squeezing my cock, huh? who’s the one begging - for - my - mercy?” he growls, once again, thrusting to each word, and she cums around him - a strange mix of the pain on her nose and ass, her restricted ability to breathe, and his sharp, filling thrusts are the perfect mix for her to reach climax, jolting and twitching as her cunt grips his cock, and her core tightens.

he holds her up even as she slumps in exhaustion, pulling her back by her hair to see her face as he tells her,

“i’m gonna cum in you.” he whispers, kissing her cheek tenderly. her eyes widen.

“no - no, please don’t - please, i’m not on birth control-” she begs, but he bites her earlobe to quieten her.

“shut the fuck up. you’re gonna be my cumdump. say that you understand.” he whispers, and she swallows.

“i - wait, please-” he slaps her again, and she squeaks, “yes, yes - i understand! i’ll be your cumdump!” he growls in satisfaction, finally releasing her and letting her fall forward onto the couch, as he grips her hips pulling her ass to him as he cums inside her, moaning loudly in relief.

there’s a few beats of silence, and afterwards, he looks down at her with a snarl. he’s disgusted, and pulls away - not by his actions, but that he hadn’t lived up to his expectations. she was an evil, and he was a vigilante. that - the cum dripping down her thighs, her perhaps broken nose, her whimpers and cries - that was revenge. it was necessary.

after cleaning up and getting ready, he looks back at her. she’s sitting up, curled into herself as she was turned away, crying into her palms.

she looked like a puppy - scolded for bad behaviors. and in many ways, she was.

he sighs in satisfaction.

it was necessary.

[boykisserbuckley]

your mess is mine

This is a commission piece I wrote for the lovely @taylortut​, who asked for sick Merlin being stubborn and Arthur taking care of him. I did my best to deliver ;)

(you can also read it on AO3)

Merlin was, once again, being sent out to do Gaius’ job. This time it was a wave of illness in a town not far from Camelot, but Gaius was needed in the castle, so he was sending the next best thing. Merlin didn’t really mind having to help out when Gaius needed something done, but he wasn’t technically the castle healer, even if he lived with him. And, of course, there was the added bonus of Arthur being a pain in the ass any time Merlin had to do anything that didn’t involve him. 

“I’m not letting you go alone,” Arthur insisted, for about the fourth time since Merlin had brought this up with him. 

“Yes, you are,” Merlin said, “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, and there’s no point in you catching it and bringing it back to the castle with you.”

“What if it’s Morgana?” Arthur asked. 

“Why would it be Morgana?”

“Why wouldn’t it be Morgana?”

“Because she has no reason to target a random village we’ve never been to?”

“Well, if it is Morgana,” Arthur said, “It’s not like you can protect yourself if something were to go wrong--”

“Thank you for your incredible confidence in my abilities,” Merlin cut in. 

“--and I wouldn’t want to have to go through the trouble of finding a new manservant on short notice,” Arthur continued, ignoring Merlin’s interruption. As usual. 

“Right, of course not,” Merlin said, lifting a single eyebrow, “Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you by dying, or anything.” 

“Exactly!” Arthur responded triumphantly. “So I’m coming.” Merlin frowned, but let it slide. He couldn’t actually force Arthur to stay if he was dead set on following, as much as he might want to. 

“Fine,” he muttered, “but don’t get in the way.” 

Within the hour, they were on their way. From what little information Gaius had gathered, they knew that this illness wasn’t deadly, so long as the patient could get treatment. The problem was simply that this town was small enough that it didn’t have a proper physician who could handle what they were dealing with, so they’d sent word to Camelot to beg for help, and in turn Gaius had sent Merlin. He’d do what he could when they got there, maybe stay a few days to make sure the patients took a turn for the better, and then they’d go home. Easy.

Merlin knew it was something he could have handled by himself, but he was secretly pleased with the knightly entourage Arthur had insisted on bringing along. Sure, he didn’t necessarily believe this incident was Morgana related, but it was nice to have his friends with him anyway. They could be infuriating, but making this journey alone would be far less entertaining. They bantered back and forth around him as they rode, helping the time to pass far more quickly than it would have if he was on his own. 

It was early evening by the time they reached the village, but not quite dark yet, which meant Merlin still had some time to get started. He got himself set up in the inn, but was gathering his supplies and heading out before the others had even finished climbing the stairs. 

“Are you the physician from Camelot?” the woman that greeted him at the door of the infirmary asked. 

“That’s me,” Merlin responded easily. She gestured him in and he stepped past her, looking around for a place to set down his supplies. 

“We’ve been putting the patients up in the room just through there,” she said, nodding her head towards a doorway in the far wall. Merlin could hear muffled coughing from inside. She stepped up and opened the door for him, leading him through to the makeshift sickbay. The room was filled with beds, separated as much as they could be in the small but crowded space. The people laid up in them looked miserable; most were asleep, though fitfully, but the ones who were awake were shaky and coughing harshly. Merlin winced in sympathy at an especially rough sounding cough to his left. 

“I’ll just get started here, if that’s alright with you,” he said to the woman. She smiled at him kindly. 

“The sooner the better,” she said. “I have a bit of business to tend to, but I’ll just be in the front room if you need any assistance.” 

“I’ll have more than enough assistance in about a minute, probably,” Merlin said. Just as he said it, the door creaked open again and Gwaine poked his head in. He turned back almost immediately. 

“Found him!” Gwaine called behind him, and then the door opened wider as the rest of the knights piled into the room, followed closely by Arthur. 

“See?” Merlin flashed a grin at the woman, who looked surprised at seeing so many people suddenly in her infirmary. 

“Well, you won’t be needing me then,” she noted. “But don’t get too loud in here, many of the patients are sleeping, and they need the rest. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Merlin agreed readily. She smiled again and ducked out of the room.

“You could have told us where you were going,” Arthur grumbled as soon as the woman had left. Merlin shrugged. 

“I assumed you could figure it out,” he said, “I mean, I came here to help with a plague. This is where the sick people are. It’s not too hard to put the clues together.” 

Gwaine snorted from behind them. Arthur just rolled his eyes. 

“Just tell us what you need us to do,” he said instead of quipping back, for perhaps the first time since they’d known each other. Maybe for once, he recognized that there were people who needed help more than they needed their bickering. At that realization, Merlin sobered up a bit too, nodding towards the patient just beside him. They seemed to have just woken up. 

“Come help me see what we’re dealing with,” he said, turning to the patient. Arthur followed suit. 

Over the next while, Merlin checked temperatures and handed out supplies. He directed Arthur and the knights to wherever he thought they were needed, and they let him take charge with minimal ribbing. They settled into an easy rhythm. By the time night had well and truly fallen, they’d made good progress. Even so, when Merlin looked up and took in the room, he knew there was so much more to do, and the sooner he could get it done the sooner these people would be back on their feet. 

The knights filtered out slowly, heading back to the inn to get some well deserved rest. Gwaine clapped him on the back as he passed, muttering some joke about not staying out too late. Arthur stayed longer than the rest, hovering around Merlin and whatever patient he was working on, under the half-hearted pretense that he didn’t want to leave Merlin to walk back by himself. After another hour, though, even Arthur couldn’t hide his yawning. 

“You’re no help here if you pass out on top of a patient,” Merlin griped at him. “Go back to the inn. I’ll finish up and head back in a bit.” 

“Merlin--” Arthur started, but Merlin cut him off. 

“Morgana isn’t here, she would have done something by now if she was. I don’t need an armed guard to walk to the inn, it’s barely across the street. Go. You’re useless if you fall asleep here, and I’m not about to carry you back if you do.”

“Well, that’s no way to talk to a prince,” Arthur muttered, looking mildly chastised, but there was no heat behind it. 

“No, but it is the way you tell a friend to take care of himself.” 

“Oh, coming from you?” Merlin chuckled at that, despite himself. 

“Get out of here,” he said, “I’ve got more patients to tend to.” 

Arthur narrowed his eyes and gave him a once-over, glancing between him and the door, as if debating whether it was worth it to do what he said. Merlin gave him a pointed look when he stifled another yawn. Arthur shot back a glare, mouth twisted in apparent displeasure at the thought of leaving Merlin to fend for himself, but eventually his exhaustion won out. He headed for the door, and Merlin relaxed a little. One stubborn patient put to rest, only a countless number more to go. He eyed the darkening room critically, lit a few candles, and got back to work. 

The next few days passed in similar fashion. Merlin spent the day in the infirmary, stayed later than he probably should, and collapsed into bed for an hour or two of sleep before the cycle started again. The morning of their last appointed day in the village found Merlin stretched out in his bed, blinking awake to the sun and a steadily mounting headache. What he wanted to do, almost desperately, was roll over and go back to sleep. But he could hear someone moving in the room next to his, and he knew he had to get up and put himself together enough to get back to work. He groaned softly to himself at the thought, but pushed his blankets away and sat up anyway. 

Even as he took a moment to rub at his forehead in an attempt to massage the pain away, Merlin knew he couldn’t spend too much time dawdling. There were still patients stuck in the infirmary who needed his help, and he didn’t want to leave them waiting if he could help it. 

A quick knock on the door startled him out of his thoughts, bringing everything back into focus. He still hadn’t gotten out of the bed. He wasn’t entirely sure how long he’d been sitting there. 

“Get up, Merlin, it’s morning,” Arthur called through the door. Merlin started to respond, but Arthur’s footsteps were already retreating, towards the inn’s tavern if he could hazard a guess. The knights were probably already there. Merlin forced himself up, trying to ignore the fatigue that slowed his movements. 

By the time he’d gotten himself dressed, he felt better, if only slightly. The throbbing at his temples had faded to a more manageable ache, and he felt more awake now that he was up and moving. That was good, because he knew he had more work to do, and he didn’t want Arthur to catch on and worry him to death before he could finish. Besides, he was just tired. He’d finish up early tonight and get some sleep, and he’d be good as new for their ride back to Camelot. No big deal, and no need for his friends to worry about it. 

He shuffled down to the tavern stifling a yawn. Percival looked up from shoveling what looked like egg and potatoes into his mouth when Merlin sat down. 

“You alright, Merlin?” he asked, giving Merlin a once-over. 

“Just tired,” Merlin deflected. He caught Arthur giving him a suspicious look out of the corner of his eye. He ignored it. He was fine, and he didn’t need Arthur trying to fix something that didn’t need fixing. The others seemed more than satisfied with his answer, digging back into their food eagerly. Merlin picked at his own food for a few moments, but decided in the end he’d rather get down to the infirmary and away from scrutiny as fast as possible. 

“I’m heading back to the infirmary,” he said as he got up, offering no other explanation. He all but fled the room, wanting to get away from Arthur’s irritating scrutiny. The same woman from before nodded to him as he entered the infirmary, heading straight for the back room. The sluggishness he’d felt as he woke up was easily ignored now that he could give himself a task, and he got right back to work without a second thought. The knights arrived not too long after, and he pointedly ignored their glances as he directed them to where they should be working.

It wasn’t until hours later, when he thought about taking a break--just sitting down for a moment--that Merlin realized maybe this wasn’t just the lack of sleep getting to him. He paused briefly after finishing up with the man he’d been working on and glanced longingly at the chair beside the bed, wondering if he could just rest for a minute. He was so tired. His head was still pounding, and now that he was concentrating on himself, he could feel the itch that threatened a cough in the back of his throat. 

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice startled him, and he realized belatedly that he’d been staring at the chair for longer than strictly necessary. He shook himself out of it and forced himself to look up, catching Arthur’s eye. 

“You sure you’re alright?” Arthur asked, quietly enough that the other knights wouldn’t hear it. The naked concern in his voice was surprising, for once not covered up by teasing insults or bravado. It threw Merlin off enough that he almost wanted to admit that he wasn’t; he thought that honestly, if he sat down right now, he might not get back up for a while. 

He’d been pushing himself too hard. He was well aware of that, having stayed up helping patients well into the early hours of the morning nearly every night, barely stopping to rest. He wasn’t even entirely sure he’d eaten anything last night. He definitely hadn’t been taking the proper precautions to protect himself from the illness he’d been trying to treat.

Which actually made things make a lot more sense, Merlin realized when the cough threatened again. He must’ve caught it as he was working. Maybe that meant he should take it easy, like he would recommend to anyone else in this situation; but then again, he wasn’t anyone else. People still needed his help, and it’s not like he could transmit it to the patients anyway, because they already had it. So he could just keep working through it, right? It wasn’t that bad yet. With that in mind, he plastered on his best innocent expression and flashed a smile at Arthur. 

“I’m fine,” he assured him, clearing his throat quietly to cover up a cough. As long as he kept his distance from Arthur and the other knights while they worked, they’d be fine too. He could still finish what he started, and he could rest later. 

So Merlin ignored the fatigue dragging at him, pushing himself to stay focused and keep moving. He ignored the way his stomach rolled sickeningly when Gwaine suggested they break for a meal. He barely took notice of Arthur watching him, too intently concentrated on acting normal. 

“Merlin!” Arthur called from across the room, forcing Merlin to look up. His eyes narrowed like he was analyzing him, and Merlin opened his mouth to respond, only to be caught off guard by the coughing fit he’d been forcing back all afternoon. He doubled over, feeling like he was hacking up a lung, and realized belatedly that maybe this was worse than he thought. He fought to get himself back under control, and by the time the coughing subsided, the knights had gathered around him with Arthur right up front. 

“I knew you weren’t fine,” Arthur said. Merlin straightened and tried to shake his head in disagreement. He regretted it when his vision swam out of focus briefly. 

“No, no,” he muttered, voice more hoarse than he thought he should sound, “I‘m okay, I swear.” 

“No, you’re not,” Arthur insisted, “you’re burning up, and you’re an idiot for ignoring it.” 

“That’s rude,” Merlin protested mildly. Arthur was right, though, as much as he hated to admit it. He’d been so focused on staying focused that he hadn’t even noticed how his vision had gone hazy, how his hands shook.

“Come sit down, you look like you’re about to fall over,” Arthur said, keeping a hand on Merlin’s arm when he swayed slightly. Merlin pulled back, though it was half-hearted.

“Arthur, I still have to--” 

“No, Merlin, let the knights handle it.” Arthur guided him to a chair, and reached for the pitcher of water on the table next to it, pouring some into a cup he’d produced from somewhere. Merlin was finding it harder to keep up with what was going on around him. 

“We’ve been watching you work for days now,” he continued, pressing the cup into Merlin’s trembling hands and coaching him to take a sip. “They know what they’re doing. They’ll finish up, and I’ll take you back to the inn and make sure you get some actual sleep.” 

“Arthur,” Merlin practically whined, but there was no real force behind it anymore. 

“No arguing,” Arthur said, as if reading his thoughts. “You clearly can’t take care of yourself, so I’m going to have to do it for you. I’m still the prince, so I will make that an order if I have to.” 

Merlin sagged in the chair and resorted to just nodding. It was like everything he’d been pushing back had hit him all at once as soon as he sat down, and he found himself not wanting to argue the idea of resting. Arthur grinned at Merlin’s agreement and clapped him on the shoulder, nudging his hand to get him to take another drink of the water. He turned away to say something to Percival quietly, and then he was back, helping Merlin to his feet and back to the inn. By the time they made it to the room, Merlin was so exhausted he all but collapsed onto the bed. 

“Thanks, Arthur,” he murmured, already half asleep. 

“You’re too much trouble,” Arthur grumbled, but when Merlin cracked an eye open, he caught the smile on Arthur’s face. He huffed out a breath, settled further into the mattress, and let his eyes close again. He trusted the knights, his friends, to take care of whatever else needed to be done before they headed back to Camelot, and he trusted Arthur to take care of him until then too. With that thought in mind, he finally allowed himself to drift off into sleep. 

Commissions ~ AO3 ~ Ko-Fi

[aurora077]

Uther’s Dilemma

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13529543/1/Uther-s-Dilemma

Uther’s POV

It all started on Arthur’s 17th name-day feast. The pride he held for his son, though rarely expressed, was shining on his face. Things were looking up for his kingdom. His son was finally a man, and was the finest knight in the land (Uther would accept nothing less after all). Magic was on its way to being completely extinguished; executions being at an all-time low that year seemed to prove his point. And he had just signed a trade treaty with Nemeth which would keep his citizens well-fed that winter.

He sat there contentedly gnawing on a rabbit’s foot and mentally congratulating himself on a job well done (if he hadn’t completely dismissed it as superstitious magical nonsense, he would have thought twice about chewing on that rabbit foot, but as it were, he didn’t and so his subsequent bad luck took him by complete surprise).

“Uther!” came the booming voice of King Rodor, who, although still disputing with Uther over Gedref, was one of Camelot’s closest allies.

Rodor dropped into the empty seat next to him and looked at him with a slight smirk, “I see some congratulations are in order.”

“Hmm,” came the slightly dazed reply, “Why, thank you King Rodor.”

Uther, in his slightly inebriated state, did not even question why Rodor was congratulating him; he thought the King was also aware of Uther’s achievements and was just as happy for him as he was for himself.

“I have to confess though,” continued King Rodor, “I am slightly disappointed.”

Uther’s eyebrows furrowed and he frowned, “Why? What’s there to be disappointed about? I was under the impression that things were going well.”

“Oh yes, definitely. Arthur and Morgana seem to be getting along splendidly. In fact, they remind me of me and my wife when we were newly betrothed,” said Rodor, laughing, “It’s just that I had so hoped that when my Mithian was of age we could forge a closer alliance. She did seem fond of Arthur the last time she visited, though granted they were only children then. I’ve watched him grow up and I would be assured that Mithian would be in good hands.”

Uther’s face froze, though Rodor didn’t seem to notice and continued, “I had intended on proposing a betrothal between our heirs, but I realise that that would be a mistake. Mithian would never be able to compete with the Lady Morgana. Arthur seems smitten, as does the Lady, and as much as we could force an alliance, it would bring me no joy to come between them. Also, I’d never want Mithian to feel second best; as a father, I do hope that the man she marries will love her and I see now that Arthur’s heart belongs elsewhere.”

Rodor’s gaze was beyond Uther now, and with a sickening sense of dread, Uther turned to look (his rabbit foot slipped out of his hand and onto the floor without him noticing).

Arthur and Morgana were on the dance floor, looking very....cozy. Uther’s heart started to race uncontrollably. This could not be happening to him!

*******************

Uther had put it out of his mind. Maybe Morgana had taken pity on Arthur and decided to be nice for the night because it was his name-day. They were back to their usual bickering so Uther felt safe enough in letting the matter lie.

He was going back to his chambers after a particularly long council meeting (blast Lord Drumph for keeping them all back! Camelot and Essetir may not have been allies but they were not enemies and he was not about to incur Cenred’s wrath by building a wall between their two territories), when he heard something suspicious.

Immediately he was on his guard. Who could be sneaking around the castle this time of night? Especially this close to the council chambers. Could it be that someone was listening in?

He continued on, on his guard now, and the closer he got to the alcove (that was hidden, by the way, how did the spy know of it?), the more he was convinced that it wasn’t just one, but two persons....who sounded like they were having a hushed argument.

Stopping just before the entrance he listened carefully, but he could only hear snippets of their whispered conversation.

“No! I told you, I will not!” came the heated reply to a question he had not heard.

“Please Arthur, just this once?”

Arthur?? Uther paled...and that had sounded like...Morgana...but it couldn’t be! What would they be doing there?

“If father caught us...” he trailed off, “Morgana you know what would happen!”

“Yeah, we’d probably ... in the dungeons ourselves,” she scoffed, then pleaded, “But I don’t care! It’s worth it! I know you Arthur, I know you want to .... as much as I do. Please .... with me. .... will help distract... They won’t catch us.”

“And what if they ask what ... doing .... hour? We can’t ..... into trouble because we.......selfish desire to....”

Selfish desire to what? They couldn’t be...talking about that could they??? Uther’s heart started palpitating again and in his panic he accidentally leaned against a wall sconce and it shifted creakily.

“Did you hear that?” Morgana asked, a thread of fear in her voice, which sounded closer to Uther now.

And before Uther could finish hear Arthur saying he would investigate, he was speeding down the corridor, and back into the council chambers. He sagged against the desk, wheezing slightly. Uther hadn’t moved so fast since he was fighting for the throne. He didn’t realise kingship had made him so out of shape; it took him several minutes to catch his breath.

He sank down into his chair and tried to process what he had heard. It couldn’t be what he thought, could it? Arthur wouldn’t ruin Morgana’s virtue, would he? He didn’t know she was his sister but even so, she was a Lady! He had taught Arthur better than that! (He completely ignored the fact that it was Morgana who seemed to be instigating something.)

“No this won’t do,” he said to himself, “This won’t do at all! If Arthur wants female companionship he shall have to find it elsewhere or I will find it for him!”

Morgana was off-limits! And maybe it was his fault as well. Arthur was a man now, and as his father he should have taken it into account that he had a man’s needs. Since Morgana was the only Lady he was around, it made sense that he would gravitate towards her. Uther would need to rectify that immediately!

******************

He was finally satisfied. Since he had heard their whispered conversation, Uther had taken it upon himself to invite several noble families with eligible daughters to the castle over the course of a few months. If he was lucky, Arthur would fall for one of those girls instead. As it were, whether he liked them or not, Arthur was obliged to pay attention to them as a courteous host. Morgana had been spending more time with her maidservant Guinevere, claiming that she would rather spend time with a servant than with those simpering fools pining after the prince. Uther, happy that she and Arthur were separated, had not berated her about being a better hostess (or becoming too friendly with the help).

He went down to the courtyard to see Arthur off. Lady Eleanor Budweiser was the latest young noble invited to spend time with the royal family and Arthur had promised to take her on a picnic.

“Arthur,” he said as he approached the prince, who was graciously helping her onto her horse, “I do hope that the Lady will have a good time today.” He raised a significant eyebrow at his son. “Of course she will father, who doesn’t enjoy good wine and good company?” Arthur retorted, conveniently choosing to forget the dressing down his father gave him for scaring the last Lady off by talking fighting strategies the entire time. (Morgana would have been interested, was his defence, which, for some reason, had made his father go silent. He was dismissed immediately.)

Uther nodded, accepting his answer, and made his way back to the castle, stopping by Gaius’s chambers to collect his medication. Gaius was confused when the King came to him some months ago with anxiety-like symptoms. He was unable to sleep, had become very jittery, and was having heart palpitations. And for some reason, whenever anyone mentioned the phrase ‘Arthur and Morgana’ the King’s left eye would start twitching. Gaius had received no explanation and so had simply treated the King without comment.

Arthur and Lady Eleanor had made good time, and when back at the castle he had escorted the Lady to her chambers. He went back out to take the horses to the stable (Uther would need to find a manservant for him soon, he really shouldn’t be doing that on his own) and met Morgana who was coming back from a ride together with her maidservant. Uther himself had gone out to the courtyard to get some fresh air (Gaius recommended it) and witnessed the entire exchange (from behind a post....as soon as he saw them together his instinct screamed hide! He would later wonder, why, as the King, did he need to hide in his own castle.)

“Morgana, Guinevere,” acknowledged Arthur, as he returned the horses, turning to help them off of theirs.

“Arthur,” Morgana replied, then smirked, “I trust your date with Lady Buttwiper went well?”

Arthur’s expression soured, “Yes, Lady Budweiser is an excellent conversationalist. Unlike some people I could mention.”

Morgana laughed, “Oh is that aimed at me your highness? I suggest you be careful now, you’ll be stuck with my conversation for a long time. Wouldn’t want to offend your future wife now would you?”

Arthur was confused, “Future wife?”

“What, did you forget? And here I thought you were a man of your word,” she feigned distress.

“The first time I bested you with the sword you promised me you would marry me. Now that Lady Buttwiper is here you’ve forgotten all about me haven’t you?” she looked at Gwen, “The Lady’s been boasting since she arrived about how smitten the prince is with her. I see now that it is true. Come Gwen, let us leave him. He’s sure to be heading right back to his sweetheart anyway.”

They exited the stables promptly, leaving a gobsmacked Arthur behind them.

“I...What?..No! We...what??? Morgana!” he called, running after them.

Uther felt sick. He remembered the promise a young Arthur had made when a 10 year old Morgana had soundly trounced him. He thought that she had forgotten about it. Had she been waiting and hoping this entire time?

********************

Uther had given Morgana some time to cool off (truthfully, he’d actually been the one who’d needed time and a second dose of anti-anxiety potion). After dealing with some court matters the next day, he headed off to her chambers. He needed to discuss, first of all, the impropriety of calling your noble guests unkind names (especially in public), no matter how upset you were with them. And secondly, he would need to find out the depth of her feelings for Arthur once and for all. He’d thought that Arthur needed to meet other women and the problem would be solved. He hadn’t taken Morgana’s feelings into consideration.

Arriving at her chambers, he found her door slightly ajar. He was about to knock, when he heard it.

Morgana was crying. Nay, full on sobbing!

“There’s nothing more you can do my lady,” came the voice of her maidservant, “He’s already made up his mind. You tried to talk to him about it but we both know his feelings on the matter.”

“I...I know Gwen, I know,” she sniffed, “It’s just...why does he have to be so...so cruel?” Her voice cracked at the end.

Uther didn’t wait to hear anymore. He had his answers.

Lady Buttwiper would have to go!

And Arthur found himself with extra patrols, much to his dismay.

********************

Uther was now becoming sullen and withdrawn and the bags under his eyes were fairly noticeable. What should his next move be? Morgana and Arthur usually found any opportunity to fight with each other. Was that the way the kids were courting these days? He figured Arthur had rejected her otherwise she wouldn’t be so upset. But Arthur really was a man of his word, and eventually he would accept her.

Which brought him back to his dilemma. He couldn’t separate them too obviously, or people would start to question his motivations; many of his advisors would undoubtedly think it an appropriate match. Neither could he admit that Morgana was his daughter. It was far too late for that now and he had a reputation to uphold. He could betroth one of them to another noble, however King Rodor might not look favourably upon his actions and he couldn’t risk bad blood between their two kingdoms. But if he didn’t do something it was likely that they would be too far gone, and he loathed the thought of breaking their hearts if they ever came to him and he had to forbid them from marrying.

What was a father to do?

*********************

Well apparently a father could shirk his duties to his kingdom in favour of stalking his children. Yes, that was his big plan. For now, he’d watch and wait. Anytime he saw them getting too close or too friendly, he would be there! He hadn’t figured out how to break their affections yet, but he could ensure nothing untoward happened between them in the meantime.

******************

Except this plan was terrible. He was poor at stealth, for one. And all he ever caught them doing was arguing. He was starting to get frustrated too. Following them around was exhausting. And he was no closer to figuring out how to separate their affections.

If they even had any at this point because he was getting a headache listening to them argue again. This time over who was better at skipping rocks.

Rocks! Why would royals need to know how to skip rocks like some peasant? He was so busy rambling to himself he didn’t even notice his court physician looking at him in alarm.

“Your Majesty. Your Majesty!”

“Huh, wha-?” he shook his head.

“Are you okay?” Gaius said, concern evident in his voice, “I called you several times already but you seemed to be.....” Well it was probably best he didn’t finish that sentence.

“Well now that you mention it Gaius, I seem to have a rather nasty headache,” he confessed, “I do believe I’ll need something to help me get through dinner tonight.”

“Take care of him, will you Gaius. I think I’ll need to request we dine in private tonight. Father doesn’t look very well,” said Arthur, making the King jump terribly.

“Good call Arthur,” said Morgana, “It can just be the three of us tonight.”

He had forgotten why he had a headache in the first place. He was spying on Arthur and Morgana.

Who apparently had made up in the short space of time he had been conversing with Gaius as they both seemed to be in agreement. They were like a pendulum. One minute they were arguing over rocks and the next they were amicable as if nothing ever happened.

Uther felt faint.

 Arthur & Morgana’s POV

 Arthur’s Name-day

“Come on now my Lady,” said Gwen gently, “You are expected at the celebrations.”

“Just tell them I’m not well Gwen,” said Morgana sullenly, looking at herself in the mirror and shuddering in disgust.

“It’s not so bad, really...well it is...but you look lovely anyway!” Gwen rambled, as she caught the look.

“Please Gwen,” said Morgana with an unladylike snort, “you can’t tell me this isn’t the most hideous thing you’ve ever seen.”

“Well...” she hesitated, it made no sense to try and hide her feelings; Morgana already knew.

“It is. But you did lose to Prince Arthur. I hate to say it my Lady, but all the years that he’s been training means he’s had a lot of practice with the sword. Unfortunately we don’t get to do it as much do we?” she said.

Morgana sighed. Gwen was right. She did lose the bet with Arthur and unfortunately she knew if she didn’t attend his name-day celebration wearing this ugly dress then he’d come up with something worse later on, so as humiliating as it might be, she would have to attend.

She knew it was foolish letting Arthur goad her into that fight. Arthur practised with his knights every day and was considered the best swordsman in the realm. She was banned from using any sort of weapon since she was 13 years old, and had to resort to sneaking out with Gwen to the forest once in a blue moon to get any sort of practice in at all.

But when Arthur accused her of being nothing but a pampered girl (as if it were a grievous insult to be a girl), she momentarily lost her senses. Now she was forced to wear Lady Melanina’s ‘gift’. Granted if the sleeves were normal the dress wouldn’t be nearly as bad but they were so poofy she looked like the court jester if the court jester was a 40 year old matron. And worse, the dress was lined in velvet. She scoffed internally. Velvet! Velvet was hot. She’d be lucky if she wasn’t smelling like one of Uther’s horses by the time the night was over. She had stuffed it to the back of her closet and never intended to wear it, so not only was it hideous....but the scent of it was musty and old. Gwen was forced to spray copious amounts of perfume on it.

How Arthur even remembered that she owned that dress she would never know, but considering it was Arthur he was probably gleefully waiting for the day he could use it against her. His 17th name-day was a big deal and all of Camelot would be feasting. They also had many foreign nobles in attendance. She certainly knew how to pick her fights.

“Well there’s nothing for it Gwen, lead the way,” she groused.

The moment Arthur realised she was in the room his eyes widened and she could tell he was struggling to contain his laughter. Luckily for her he was in conversation with King Rodor and had to hold a serious expression. Except, with a wickedly gleeful smile, he led the King straight to her.

“King Rodor I believe you know our Lady Morgana,” he said, shooting her a grin.

“Yes indeed I do. I hope you are well My Lady,” King Rodor said politely, “It has been such a long time. We should arrange for you to visit with my Mithian one of these days. I’m sure she would be delighted with your company. She had a wonderful time the last time she was here.”

Morgana forced herself to ignore Arthur and she put on a polite smile, “I would be honoured your highness. Princess Mithian was a breath of fresh air. I’d happily accept a visit. It would be nice to have someone other than Arthur around, and maybe he’d be on his best behaviour with a Princess in the castle.” She couldn’t resist a jab at him.

“Nonsense,” he said, and smiled at King Rodor, “I am always on my best behaviour. But I understand why My Lady is upset. I have been remiss. It was terribly rude of me not to notice sooner, but you look absolutely lovely this evening. Wouldn’t you agree your highness?” Morgana could see his temple popping with the effort not to burst out laughing.

But clearly the King didn’t because he very diplomatically stated that the Lady Morgana always looked lovely.

In an effort to avoid having to converse with any more important people while looking like a complete disaster, she left Arthur with the King and made for the table. Taking the most discrete seat she could find, she filled her plate and began eating, hoping that it would act as a deterrent.

Except Arthur couldn’t even let her have that, could he?

As soon as the last morsel left her plate he was there.

“Would the Lady Morgana honour me with a dance?” he said, bowing slightly so that only she could see his smirk.

She fixed him with her deadliest glare and accepted his hand begrudgingly. People were watching after all, she couldn’t refuse the prince on his name-day; it would be unseemly. And he knew it. All eyes would be on them. Which meant that everyone would see her in that dress. Which is exactly what Arthur wanted.

But that didn’t mean she would simply give in. No she would dance all right.

“Ouch!” he grunted, “That was my foot.”

“I know,” she smiled, “I seem to have two left feet today. Begging your highness’ pardon.”

After several more minutes of her stepping on his feet, he pulled her closer, so he could talk without the other couples nearby overhearing, and whispered, “What are you doing?”

“Why I’m dancing Arthur, can you not tell?” she said, laughingly, and then leaned up to whisper in his ear, “I will get you back for this. Don’t think this is over! Thanks to you, I’ll need to have Gwen lug water all the way from the well again to draw me a bath tonight since I’ll be smelling like a troll.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Oh, so, nothing new then?” he whispered, wincing as she stepped on his foot extra hard as payback.

Neither of them noticed King Uther and King Rodor looking at them, one in horror and the other with fondness. All either King saw was Arthur and Morgana dancing closely and whispering sweet nothings to make each other laugh.

***********************

 A few weeks later

“Arthur you must help me save her!” she cried, “All you have to do is get the keys. I’ll let her out myself!”

“No! I told you, I will not!” said Arthur. He didn’t want to meddle.

“Please Arthur, just this once?” she begged, tears threatening to fall.

He hesitated. He knew Morgana felt strongly about it. He himself didn’t feel it was right. He hated to admit it but actually, he knew his father was wrong. The woman was very old. She could barely hurt a fly let alone steal away with Mr. Erksom’s cow. And of course the farmer claimed it was sorcery. He knew he would never be able to prove that that little old lady stole a huge cow and hid it in her tiny hovel. His father was going to burn an innocent lady because the farmer most probably forgot to tie his cow and it wandered away.

“If father caught us...” he trailed off, “Morgana you know what would happen!”

“Yeah, we’d probably be in the dungeons ourselves,” she scoffed, then pleaded, “But I don’t care! It’s worth it! I know you Arthur, I know you want to help her as much as I do. Please come with me. Gwen will help distract the guards. They won’t catch us.”

“And what if they ask what Guinevere’s doing there at that hour? We can’t get Guinevere into trouble because we have a selfish desire to take the law into our own hands.”

She was about to argue that it wasn’t selfish at all but suddenly there was a creaking sound and she unconsciously moved closer to the entrance of the alcove.

“Did you hear that?” she turned fearful eyes on Arthur. What if they were overheard?

“I’ll be right back,” he said, “Stay here.” He peered cautiously out of the alcove, eyes trained on a slip of white going around the corner.

Why did it look like his father’s clothes?

***********************

Strangely enough, they got away with freeing the old lady. What they didn’t get away from was the King’s sudden hospitality. Uther kept inviting nobles with eligible daughters.

Arthur was getting tired of having to entertain them. Most of them were emboldened by the King’s invitation and thought it meant that a betrothal would surely be forthcoming, and so they all tried to curry favour with him. Two of them even tried to seduce him! He would rather be training with his knights or going hunting as opposed to sitting around with noble ladies and fending off their advances. Of course many of them were attractive but Arthur had no desire to be with anyone he did not love. Also he knew the moment he accepted any offer, they would go running to their parents who would demand his hand in marriage for despoiling their daughter. Arthur had no intention of marrying just yet.

So imagine his surprise when Morgana brought up his childhood promise to marry her!

“Now that Lady Buttwiper is here you’ve forgotten all about me haven’t you?” she accused.

If he wasn’t so shocked he’d find the nickname funny. Morgana always had a way with words.

“The Lady’s been boasting since she arrived about how smitten the prince is with her. I see now that it is true. Come Gwen, let us leave him. He’s sure to be heading right back to his sweetheart anyway,” they exited the stables promptly, leaving a gobsmacked Arthur behind them.

“I...What?..No! We...what??? Morgana!” he called, running after them, barely paying his poorly concealed father any notice. He had bigger things to worry about than why the King was skulking behind a post.

He thought Morgana didn’t want to get married. To anyone!

They had a head start but he ran swiftly and as he rounded the corner he was surprised to see that they had stopped. In fact, they were leaning against each other and laughing heartily, eyes watering and faces red.

“Y..you should have seen the look on your face,” Morgana howled.

Normally, he would be angry, but all he felt at the moment was intense relief. Marriage was no joke when you were in his position. If Morgana was serious, he would actually have to follow through with his promise, which he was not keen on doing but he was a man of his word.

“Soooo.... this means you don’t want me to marry you, right?” he said, needing the clarification anyway.

“Oh heavens no! We would be a terrible match!”

*************************

Morgana stormed into her chambers, with Gwen following anxiously.

“How could he!” she raged.

“He’s the King, his word is law,” Gwen said, knowing that it wasn’t what she wanted to hear.

“Exactly! His word is law. He didn’t have to do that!” she said, pacing angrily.

“Morgana...” Gwen said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder in support. She sank down onto the bed, suddenly weary, grateful to have Gwen by her side.

“Why Gwen? Why does it have to be like that?” she said, and the tears started flowing.

“He’s only a boy. A child,” she whimpered, “A hungry child. It’s not fair!”

“I don’t know my Lady, life is rarely ever fair,” Gwen said, stroking her hair as she cried out in rage and sorrow, “In this life, fair is what the King thinks is fair.”

Gwen was well aware of what it was like to be hungry. And she knew Lady Morgana had more compassion in her little finger than King Uther did in his entire body, though she would never voice the thought out loud. She couldn’t blame the child for stealing the bread. Morality goes away in the face of hunger.  It was one loaf of bread but it would cost him 5 lashes. For a tiny, malnourished boy like him, it could well kill him. But the King’s word was law and he declared stealing was stealing, no matter the context.

“There’s nothing more you can do my lady,” Gwen said sadly, “He’s already made up his mind. You tried to talk to him about it but we both know his feelings on the matter.”

“I...I know Gwen, I know,” she sniffed, “It’s just...why does he have to be so...so cruel?” Her voice cracked at the end.

Gwen had no answer that would be able to satisfy her, so she simply said nothing. (Saying nothing couldn’t be counted as treason)

*************************

The King was looking stressed. He had dark circles under his eyes and she heard Gaius say something about anxiety. Morgana savagely hoped that on some level he was feeling guilty for what he had done. She certainly made no secret of what she thought of his actions.

************************

Arthur was beginning to wonder if his father had lost it. Several times he caught the man ‘hiding’ and watching while he was speaking to Morgana (more like arguing with but same difference really). Why did the King feel the need to spy on them? Did he think they were plotting to release more treasonous sorcerers?

And if he had to spy on them did he need to do it so obviously? He was the King, all he had to do was assign it to some nondescript servant.

He was actually quite relieved to see Gaius passing by, and sent him over to check on the King.

The King confessed to having a headache, and really, he didn’t look so good. He shared a look with Morgana and they both decided that maybe it would be better if, for the time being, they had dinner in private with the King. They really didn’t need more people seeing him that way. Camelot might start to look weak.

************************

Dinner that evening, was rather unusual. For the King’s sake, she and Arthur decided to be as least antagonistic towards each other as they could. Though it didn’t stop them fighting for the last chicken leg. When Arthur conceded defeat to Morgana, graciously in his opinion, the King stopped eating and just stared at them. (It was gracious in the King’s opinion too though they didn’t realise it.)

“Have you noticed father’s been acting kind of strange lately?” Arthur questioned silently, concern evident on his face.

“Now that you mention it, he has, hasn’t he?” Morgana replied, as she and Arthur both surreptitiously glanced at the King.

After a while of him staring she gave up and continued eating. Arthur bet her that he could finish his plate faster and so they started shoveling down their food.

They momentarily stopped trying to outdo each other however, as a low groan escaped the King, and he flopped straight down into his mashed potatoes, which had looked relatively untouched. Luckily for Uther, they were the only ones dining with him that night, so nobody else was there to witness the King’s moment of....whatever that was.  

“Father...” Arthur said hesitantly, “Are you okay?” After a few minutes of silence, he reached for a fork and was tentatively about to prod the King when Uther shot up, face ringed with mashed potatoes.

“I’m fine son, why wouldn’t I be?” said Uther in a high pitched voice.

Arthur refrained from mentioning the potatoes and the eye that was now twitching steadily.

“Okaaay I’m full. I think I’ll have an early night your majesty. By your leave, I bid you goodnight,” said Morgana, putting down her utensils.

Arthur followed suit and made to leave but, with every intention of discussing the King and his weird stalker-ish behaviour for the past few weeks (not to mention his apparent breakdown), Morgana held his arm and brought him to a stop.

“Arthur will you be a dear and walk me to my chambers?”

Normally he’d have had some snappy remark to that request but the King’s strange behaviour was on his mind so he acquiesced, looping his arm through hers like a proper gentleman and escorting her out of the dining hall.

Before clearing the entrance Morgana leaned closer to whisper, “We need to talk.” To which he solemnly agreed.

Neither of them noticed the King staring in horror at their relatively cordial exchange.

“No...” he whispered, clutching his hair tightly, “No...no no no nooo.”

“I can’t be my own in-law!” he cried.

*********************

Half an hour later Morgana’s maidservant Gwen came looking for her mistress and instead found the King curled up in the foetal position and whimpering.

She hastily backed out of the room. Knowing King Uther, he might chop her head off for witnessing that.

“I saw nothing,” she declared to herself, and scurried away in search of Morgana elsewhere.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxxoxoxoxoxo

So this was a plot bunny that I needed to get out, though granted it did not turn out exactly the way I wanted it to. But anyway, I am all for torturing Uther in any way. Let him be confused about if their fighting is flirting now. He deserves anything coming to him.

[cupcakezys]

Surprise.

A short little fluffy something for you all. :)

First. Previous.

Read on AO3.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur.

Summary: Merlin was acting suspicious. He had been for almost three days now, and Arthur was determined to find out what exactly he was up to. Fortunately, he was the Crown Prince, and as such he could get whatever he asked for, including information. Unfortunately, no one seemed to know what Merlin was doing. Arthur, naturally, thought them all a bunch of liars.   Especially Morgana.

“If you’re that curious, why don’t you just ask him yourself?” Morgana asked, clearly exasperated.

Arthur sighed and flopped down onto a nearby chair. “He won’t tell me, that’s why! I threatened him with the stocks earlier, and he just laughed at me. Laughed!”

Morgana snorted and moved from where she was fixing up her hair in her mirror. “That’s because he knows you don’t mean it.” She sat across from him and tapped the table with her fingernails. “You haven’t put him in the stocks for months Arthur. Even I know it’s an empty threat.”

Arthur glared at her. “Shut up.”

“If you’re just going to whine, then you can do it in your own room.” Morgana said. “I’m not telling you anything.”

Arthur sat up quickly. “So you do know something!”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. I know everything.”

“Like Gaius.” Arthur mumbled. Then, louder. “Alright, name your price.”

She laughed. “My price?”

“For information.” Arthur sighed. “Considering no one else seems to know anything.”

Morgana shook her head. “Oh my dear Arthur. I already told you. I’m not telling you anything.”

Arthur groaned. “You’re evil.”

Morgana laughed, evilly, proving his point. Arthur slumped down in the chair and dropped his head to the table. He sighed. Merlin had been avoiding him all day. He’d hurried Arthur out of bed, dressed him before he’d even properly woken up, and then disappeared out the door without a backward glance. By the time Arthur was awake enough to search for him, he had already left the citadel.

“Arthur?”

Arthur looked up instantly. Morgana almost never sounded that scared. Worry bloomed, hot and fast.

She was looking down at the table intensely, refusing to meet his eyes. “I just- I wanted to ask you something.” Her eyes flickered up for a second before dropping back down. “About Ealdor.”

Arthur automatically tensed, weary. “What about it?”

She did look at him then, confusion mixed with something that looked suspiciously like hope. “Will.”

Arthur flinched, though he knew it was coming. “Will.”

“He has magic.” Morgana whispered, though they were alone, and the door was shut. “He has magic and you- you didn’t do anything!”

He clenched his jaw hard. “I thought you were of the opinion that sorcerers should be judged by their actions, not simply for having magic.”

“I am.” She insisted. “And you have no idea how reassuring it was to find a sorcerer that proved not all magic is evil- but that’s not the point!” She shook her head, started tapping the table again. “You’ve never seen magic as anything but evil.”

Arthur glanced at the door, though he knew it was still shut. “Just because I am not as verbal about my views does not mean they are so different from yours.”

Morgana eyes practically shone. “Is that so?”

“Yes.” Arthur leaned back and smiled a little. “You were not the only one proven right in Ealdor.”

A lie. Arthur had been proven wrong long before that – been shown magic was not evil but beautiful and warm and loving – but that was something he could not say. He would not reveal Merlin’s secret, not even to Morgana, whom he trusted more than anyone else on the subject of magic, because it was not his secret to tell. And as for the secret that was his to tell, well. That might be a bit much for today. For both of them.

Arthur cleared his throat. “Well, I think I’d better be going. I have a wayward servant to find.”

Morgana blinked and glanced out the window. “Yes.” She grinned. “I think I’ve waylaid you for long enough.”

Arthur frowned. “What?”

Morgana stood and pushed him towards the door. Arthur let her, more out of confusion than anything. She shoved him out the door and leaned against the frame, a self-satisfied smile on her face. Evidently, Arthur’s revaluation hadn’t surprised her for long.

“Merlin should be waiting for you in the stables.” She glanced down his body, stopping at his boots. “Perhaps you should change into something better. And warmer. I imagine you���ll be gone for a few hours.”

And then she slammed the door in his face.

“What the hell.” Arthur asked the door.

The door, thankfully, didn’t respond. Morgana, however, did, her badly suppressed giggles following him down the hall.

Arthur reached his room and immediately went to stand in front of the mirror. He frowned. He didn’t see anything wrong with his clothes. His breeches were the same ones he always wore, and granted, his red tunic was a little loose and worn, but it looked fine. He stared at his reflection.

He looked fine, didn’t he?

He cursed to himself and roughly pulled his tunic off. He threw it over his shoulder and dived for his wardrobe, searching for something better.

“Better. Ha.” He mumbled to himself, flinging his leather hunting jacket out of the way. “What does that even mean? I’m the prince, all my clothes are better.”

He rummaged for several more minutes, muttering unpleasantries about a certain meddling woman, until he found what he was looking for. A relieved cry and grumbled “finally” filled the silence of his room.

He pulled on his white tunic – the one he used only for special occasions, surely that was better enough – and a pair of less scruffy-looking riding breeches. He hesitated a moment, then threw on his red jacket – the one with the studs, his favourite - just for good measure. There. That was undeniably better.

He snorted at his reflection. “You’re being ridiculous. A bigger fool than Merlin.”

It didn’t stop him from quickly combing through his hair, trying to right the mess he had made it into while he was changing. He gave himself a final once-over, and then he nodded and made his way out of his chambers.

The stables weren’t far, but by the time he reached them he was already wondering why he had felt the need to dress up so much. It was just Merlin. Even if they had only been courting for two weeks, and Arthur still wasn’t completely sure how he was supposed to court his manservant-turned-warlock-turned-lover, that didn’t mean he had to start getting all nervous like a girl.

He straightened his shoulders and walked into the stables.

Merlin was facing away from him, murmuring something to the horses. Arthur stood in the doorway, just watching. He did that a lot, where Merlin was concerned. It made something warm bubble up in his chest, just seeing Merlin doing something completely ordinary. Then Llamrei nickered at him in greeting, making Merlin turn, and Arthur had to pretend he hadn’t been staring for the past few minutes.

“So.” He said, before Merlin could do more than smile. “Am I finally going to find out what it is you’ve been hiding from me?”

Merlin’s smile was coy, and more than a little self-satisfied. “Maybe.”

“And are you always going to employ the help of Morgana when you need to sneak about?”

“I might.” Merlin said, giving him a once-over. Arthur tried not to feel self-conscious at his over-the-top outfit. “Did she pick this out?” His voice dropped to a whisper. “You look amazing.”

Arthur flushed, suddenly pleased. “She suggested I wear something… better. And warmer.” He raised his eyebrows. “Apparently we’ll be gone for a few hours.”

Merlin hummed, reaching out to straighten his jacket slightly. “Yes. I informed your father you wanted to go on a hunt, just for the afternoon. He approved, said something about Cook requesting more venison.”

“Well then.” Arthur murmured, running his hands up Merlin’s arms until he reached where Merlin’s hands rested on his jacket. “What Cook wants, she must receive.”

Merlin swallowed and stepped away, ears pink. “Yes. Well. That’s what I thought.”

Arthur grinned and boldly stepped forward, placing a hand at the small of Merlin’s back. “Should we head out then, while it’s still light out?”

Red bloomed down Merlin’s neck, and he nodded silently. Arthur grinned. He’d gotten better at this over the weeks, mastering what made Merlin blush and what made him simply roll his eyes in fond exasperation. Never where anyone else could see, Arthur was still very aware of exactly who he was and what could happen to any that he cared for, but Merlin never seemed to mind, and Arthur made up for it plenty when they were alone.

They rode out without another word, Llamrei ready and eager to get going. Toscano followed close behind her, just as eager for their ride. Arthur saw the bags attached to his saddle, stuffed full to overflowing, and wondered again what Merlin had planned. He very much doubted it was something as simple as a mere hunting trip. Not with all the secrecy.

Arthur lasted all of ten minutes before he caved, turning in his saddle to Merlin. “Okay, where are we going?”

Merlin grinned and spurred Toscano forward, passing Arthur and taking the lead. “You’ll see.”

Arthur groaned, but urged Llamrei to follow behind him.

It took them almost an hour to reach wherever it was Merlin was leading them. He’d asked again, after half an hour of riding, exactly where it was they were going, but Merlin had just laughed and called it a surprise. Arthur had grunted and let Merlin’s babble wash over him. He hated surprises.

When Merlin finally announced they had arrived, Arthur had to wonder what exactly was supposed to be here. It looked like any other part of the forest to him, surrounded by trees and bushes. The only notable difference was a rock wall covered in vines in front of them. Arthur studied it, unimpressed.

“And where, exactly, is here, Merlin?” He drawled.

Merlin grinned and dismounted. “Just- hang on a moment.”

He grabbed Toscano’s reins and tugged on Llamrei’s until Arthur surrendered them to him. He tied both horses to a tree nearby, practically vibrating with excitement. Arthur dismounted as Merlin gathered all the bags into his arms, almost dropping them in his haste.

“Give me one of those before you fall over.” Arthur said.

“No!” Merlin squawked. “Just stay there. And close your eyes!”

Arthur groaned. “Merlin.”

“Arthur.” Merlin mimicked, then met his eyes around his burden. “Please?”

Arthur groaned again, but he was helpless to resist that look. He obediently closed his eyes, feeling silly as Merlin huffed and grunted around him. It was when he started walking away that Arthur tensed in not-quite-panic.

“Merlin?” He called. “Where are you going?”

“You’ll see in a minute.” Merlin called, getting further away. A curse, as he probably tripped on something, and then louder. “Just do as your told and wait there until I get back. I’ll just be a minute.”

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, and would deny the whine in his tone until the end of time.

Merlin laughed. “I’m setting everything up! Now shut up before I give anything away.”

Arthur grumbled but fell silent, though he was still tensed. Everything in him told him to open his eyes, to watch his back for any enemies that could be creeping up on him, but he forced himself to stay as he was. Merlin would not put him in any danger. He’d probably put a spell over the entire area, keeping everyone away. It was something he’d taken to doing whenever Arthur found him alone somewhere in the castle and Merlin had asked him for a hug, or a kiss. The spell made it easy for Arthur to oblige each time.

“Alright!” Merlin called, and then he was making his way back to Arthur, loud as always. “It’s ready.” Arthur went to open his eyes, but Merlin slapped a hand over them before he’d even opened them halfway. “Keep your eyes shut!”

“How am I supposed to see where I’m going?” Arthur grumbled.

“I’ll guide you.”

“Right.” Arthur said. “If I fall, you’re fired.”

Merlin laughed and took his outstretched hand, his other hand going to Arthur’s waist. “Of course sire. Come on.”

Arthur would never admit it, but being led somewhere with his eyes shut was terrifying. Every step was a possible tumble, even with Merlin holding him so tightly, and Arthur did not fancy ending up with his face in the dirt. Still, he pushed through it, not wanting to ruin the surprise and disappoint Merlin.

“Okay.” Merlin said eventually, when they’d walk far enough that the delicate sounds of a small river had drowned out the snorting of their horses. “You can open your eyes now.”

Arthur hesitated, then slowly blinked his eyes open. Sunlight shone on his face, making him squint before he could even see anything. When he could see, all he could do was gasp and stare.

The first thing he noticed was the walls. They were completely surrounded by stone walls, as if they were in the middle of a great cave. That illusion was broken, however, by the sunlight streaming down on them. He studied where the wall of stone ended, and wondered. It looked awfully like someone had blown the rest of the stone away, so there was no roof on the cave. But that wasn’t what took his breath away.

Covering every inch of the cave-turned-paradise was a lush expanse of greenery. Flowers bloomed in the sunlight, reds and blues and purples growing in clusters. Soft grass covered every inch of the not-cave, and small shrubberies grew along the stone walls, vines creeping up behind them. A small stream of water trickled by his feet, the source of the sound of water. A blanket was spread out next to it, covered in all of Arthur’s favourite foods.

He turned to Merlin.

“Merlin- wha- how?” He gaped. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

Merlin grinned, pleased with himself. “Well, the place was already huge when I found it. I just had to open up the top bit and encourage the plants to grow. The real challenge was getting the water to flow properly, but I managed to connect it up to a river nearby and it seems to work fine now.”

Arthur just stared at him, coming to terms with the fact that Merlin had made an entire little paradise, and that he hadn’t even found it difficult. Arthur was struck, again, with how powerful Merlin truly was. His magic was more than a weapon, more than a tool – it was beautiful and loving and everything that Merlin himself was.

Arthur could do nothing but stare as his lover rambled on about the water and how he had created this place, this wonderful, breathtaking place. He stepped forward, helplessly drawn to his warlock, his Merlin. He raised a hand to Merlin’s cheek, cutting off his voice. Merlin leaned into the touch, even as he cocked his head in question. Arthur said nothing, just stared for a moment longer before bringing his lips up to touch Merlin’s.

Merlin kissed him back, though Arthur could almost taste his confusion. It made him laugh into the kiss and pull away, Merlin looking more confused than ever. His laughter died down to chuckles as he rested his forehead against Merlin’s.

“You’re amazing.” He told him.                                                                                                           

Merlin smiled, the tips of his ears going red. “Come on, clotpole. The food’s getting cold.”

Arthur grinned and let Merlin pull him towards the picnic basket. Arthur dove for the food right away, starving after a certain someone had disappeared before he could serve him breakfast. Merlin chatted enough for the both of them anyway, filling Arthur in on all the castle gossip. And, well, if once the food was gone and Merlin had run out of gossip Arthur decided there were better things to do than talking, that was a secret entirely their own, hidden away in paradise.

 Arthur realized he had lied, before. He loved surprises.

But only if a certain warlock was the one surprising him.

-

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