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i-hate-people-1 · 6 months

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For the good of Camelot.

Arthur x reader/Gwaine x reader/Arthur x Guinevere / platonic Merlin x reader

You and Arthur are told you are to be wed by the end of the month the only problem is your respective lovers Gwaine and Guinevere.

Warnings this is really angsty kind of bittersweet ending.

Anybody else still obsessed with a show that ended in 2012 no just me? Okay. anyways the is a BBC Merlin fic because there is simply not enough of it out there

2,432 words

Not my picture

“You can’t do this father!” Arthur exclaimed hands slamming on the table as he stood from his seat.

“I am your father and the king of Camelot I can do as I wish!” Uther yelled back standing from his seat as well “And you and y/n are to be wed for the good of the kingdom and its people if you are to be king one day you must realize that you have to make sacrifices you are no longer a child you are a man and I expect you to act as such!”

Arthur opened his mouth but quickly shut it when his father brought his hand up telling Arthur to silence.

Uther turned his head to you “And what say you of this arrangement?”

You sucked in a sharp breath as much as you wanted to speak out you were not in such a position as Arthur to speak out against the king so swallowing the lump in your throat thickly “I will do as you wish sire” you replied as a silent tear fell down your cheek.

Arthur scoffed not at you but at his father and what he was proposing “Fath-“ Arthur started.

“Silence I will have no more debate about this matter!” Uther shouted “I will begin making preparations with y/n’s father tomorrow” he stated walking out of the room.

As soon as Uther left the room Arthur’s shoulders slumped “Way to have my back there” Arthur scolded you as if you were a child.

“You think I want this? I do not have the luxury of speaking against the King Arthur” you snap back storming out of the room to your chambers.

“Y/N” you heard him sigh as you exited you ignored him.

You had been staying in Camelot as a guest for about a year you can’t help but think that this had been your father's plan this whole time. You and Arthur had met in your childhoods and had always been close though not in the way your fathers wanted it would seem.

“Y/N?” you heard a knock and Arthur’s voice pulling you from your thoughts.

“Come in”

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Arthur told you eyes turned towards the floor “I know you can not speak against my father and it was wrong of me to be upset with you”

“It’s okay Arthur” you replied patting the spot on your bed beside you.

“So we are to be wed” he sighed taking the spot on the bed.

“It would seem so” you chuckled dryly. “What are we going to tell Gwaine and Gwen?” You asked softly.

“I will get us out of the Y/N I swear it,” Arthur told you.

“And if you can’t?” You questioned as the tears you were holding back began to fall

“Then I also swear this to you” Arthur started moving to kneel in front of you grabbing your hands gently as his eyes found yours “If I can not get us out of this and we are to be wed I will make you comfortable all the days of my life and I will do everything in my power to make you happy I can’t make you love me but I will love you I swear it” Arthur finished eyes never leaving yours.

He brought a hand to your cheek gently wiping the tears from your eyes and offering you a small smile before standing and leaving your room.

***

You were awakened by a knock on your door you had fallen asleep in your clothes crying.

“Come in” you replied rubbing the sleep from your eyes as Merlin entered your chambers.

“Arthur told me what happened last night he’s gone to try and reason with the king he sent me to check on you I figured you’d be hungry” Merlin fumbled as he sat the plate on the table making himself busy.

“Thank you Merlin you’ve always been kind to me” you offered him a small smile as you sat.

“Of course, you’re my friend” Merlin shrugged.

“And you are mine please sit I couldn’t possibly eat all this by myself” You gestured for him to take the seat beside you.

The two of you ate in silence for a minute before Merlin broke it “How are you doing?” He asked.

“As well as I can be” you paused taking a deep breath “I only hope Arthur can get us out of it” You sighed as if summoned Arthur burst into the room.

“My Father won’t listen to reason he says we will be wed within the month” Arthur paced the room.

You bit back the tears refusing to cry again.

“We must tell Guinevere and Gwaine before it is announced they should hear it from us,” you told him as his pacing stopped.

“Very well,” Arthur said walking out of the room.

“Goodbye Y/N,” Merlin told you exiting to follow his master.

***

You and Arthur had decided to tell them together thinking that it might be nice to have the support so Merlin arranged for you all to meet at Gwen’s house Arthur had practically begged Merlin to come with you making an excuse about how a prince needs his servant at all time but you knew he just wanted him there Merlin was after all his closest friend.

When you arrived Gwen and Gwaine were sitting at her table they had been talking as you entered but quickly stopped when they saw you.

“Darling, are you alright?” Gwaine rushed towards you checking for any injuries or something that could be physically wrong with you sighed in relief when he saw nothing pulling you In for a hug “Merlin said it was urgent” When you didn’t respond he pulled away eyes widening when he saw the tears falling down your face “Y/N?” He questioned grabbing your face in his hands.

“Gwaine I think you should sit down” Arthur spoke as he pulled a seat out for Gwen.

“What did you do to her Arthur?” Gwaine asked moving towards the prince.

“Gwaine please sit,” you said grabbing his arm before he could do anything. He looked back at you before hesitantly taking a seat as you went to stand by Arthur.

“There’s no easy way to say this so I’ll just come out with it our fathers have arranged for us to be married,” Arthur said letting out a breath.

“Then refuse!” Gwen yelled standing up and surprising all of you with the outburst “I’m sorry” Gwen apologized as she sat back down.

“Don’t apologize Guinevere” Arthur sighed

Before explaining “I tried my father is having none of it he says we are to be wed by the end of the month”

As Arthur was talking to Gwen Gwaine stood from the table going to leave.

“Gwaine” you called moving towards him

“I just need some time,” he said walking out you went to follow him before Merlin grabbed your arm gently.

“Give him some space,” he said gently.

Gwen and Arthur were talking in hushed tones before Gwen turned towards you.

“I’m so sorry Gwen” was all you could manage before a sob racked your body.

“I think it’s best if you all leave” Guinevere whispered holding tears of her own back.

Merlin simply nodded leading you out of the house back to the palace Arther following behind.

Once Arthur and Merlin got you back to your quarters and made sure you were okay they left you.

Now you were left with your thoughts tossing and turning trying to escape them long enough to fall asleep sighing when you had no such luck.

You only found a semblance of relief when you heard a knock at your window knowing it was Gwaine's as this was a regular thing he did the relief was quickly replaced with anxiety as you walked to the window to let him in.

“May I come inside my lady?” Gwaine as you opened the window stepping aside to let him in walking towards the bed.

“I was worried about you,” you told him in a whisper.

“I know darling I’m sorry I just need some time to cool down it’s not every day you’re told that the woman you love is marrying one of your closest friends” Gwaine chuckled dryly, Trying to bring some semblance of humor to your predicament.

“We could run away,” you said.

Gwaine sighed as he sat beside you “The king would find us execute me and force you to marry Arthur”

“Then what are we to do?” You asked helplessly.

“You have to go through with it for your sake I could not bare anything happening to you because of my foolishness,” he told you arm wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead gently.

“You have to promise me you’ll move on and find happiness with someone else for I cannot bare the thought of you spending your days in misery for my sake,” you told him gabbing his face in your hands and resting his forehead on your own.

“I’m afraid I can make no such promise for a fear I am destined to love you all the days of my life,” Gwaine said tears finally making their way down his face

“And I you but you must try” you started biting back tears of your own “For me please” you finished.

“I will try for you” Gwaine finally agreed.

You sat like that for a while foreheads rested against one another’s as silent tears fell down your cheeks.

You don’t remember who made the motion to lay down only that you had fallen asleep holding each other for perhaps the last time.

You awoke to a thumb gently stroking your cheek Gwaine's soft scratchy morning voice filling your eyes “Wake up darling I’m afraid I must go” he kissed your forehead lingering for a moment before pulling away eyes finding your tired ones before he looked away leaving the bed.

You got up to follow him to the window opening it for him hesitantly as he slipped his boots on.

He kissed your forehead once more before he began climbing out of the window.

“Gwaine,” you said making him pause his movements to look back at you as soon as he did you pulled him in for a kiss.

A kiss you hoped would convey your affection and feelings for him tell him how much you loved him and how much he meant to you and as he kissed back you felt him saying all those things too.

“Goodbye Y/N” Gwaine whispered as he pulled away.

“Goodbye Gwaine” you offered the biggest smile you could muster he simply nodded eyes lingering on you before he turned and made his way out of the window.

It was your understanding that Gwen and Arthur had had a night much like yours a last calm together before the storm Arthur never asked you about your night nor you his. It was something only you lovers would know and you both intended it to stay that way.

***

After a long month, the time for the ceremony had come. Your father and mother had traveled from their kingdom for this.

“You look beautiful my love,” your mother told you as the maid finished getting you ready it was the first time she’d seen you in your dress “Please leave us I’d like a moment alone with my daughter,” she asked the maids noticing your discomfort.

“I am sorry you were born into this my darling” she spoke once the maids had left “It’s not fair and I wish it could be different but I am so proud of you and the woman you’ve become and I know you will make an excellent queen one day” she finished kissing your forehead.

“I love you, Mother,” you told her hugging her tightly a few stray tears falling.

“Oh come now you shouldn’t cry on your wedding day I’ll give you a moment to yourself,” she told you leaving one last kiss on your cheek before exiting.

There was a gentle knock on your door as Merlin peaked his head in the room “I was told to come to fetch you the ceremony is about to start” he said stepping inside and offering you a hand “I know it doesn’t help but you look beautiful my lady” Merlin said as you walked down the hall towards you father waiting at the door.

“Thank you Merlin you are a good friend to me and Arthur,” you told him kissing his cheek softly as you made it to your father his cheeks burned bright red at the gesture bright smile never left his face.

And with that, you took your father's arm walking through the door towards your soon-to-be husband.

Arthur could not lie his breath hitched when he saw you you looked absolutely breathtaking.

As you made it to the alter your father let you go shaking Arthur’s hand with a whisper to take care of you before joining your mother and Uther on the front row.

“You look beautiful,” Arthur told you kissing your cheek and offering a head to help you up the altar.

“You look handsome as well” you smiled. Before the officiant cleared his throat starting the ceremony.

You blacked out at that moment your brain only coming back in to focus as the officiant asked Arthur if he took you to be his wife “I do” Arthur answered eyes never leaving yours as the man asked you the same “I do” You said trying to show as much confidence and bravery as Arthur had and has throughout this whole thing.

“By the power vested in me by God and the church of Camelot, I now pronounce you husband and wife Prince Arthur you may kiss you bride” As the man finished speaking Arthur took your face in his hands gently as if you would break were he to rough and pulled you in for a kiss.

The kiss was soft and surprisingly sweet it

it was a kiss that conveyed that while this may not be what either of you had planned you were still going to do everything in your power to make the other happy.

As quickly as it had come this kiss was over as you both pulled away surprisingly sad that it had ended so quickly but you both gained your composure as you turned towards the crowd hand in hand ready to face this new challenge with the other by your side.

“I give you Arthur and Y/N Pendragon prince and princess of Camelot!”

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angelynmoon · 1 month

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Kilgharrah calls for Merlin two weeks after Morgause's siege, Merlin hadn't known he could do that but he answered the Dragon's call anyway, curious.

At least Camelot's re-introduction to Magic was going well, as was Morgana's penance, she found comfort in helping Gaius with his rounds, apologizing for her actions under Morgause and tending those with illnesses or injuries. Gwen often helped her with Percival, Leon or Elyan trailing behind them.

Sometimes Merlin and Lancelot joined them but they were often called to Arthur's Council room to help with Magical issues, Lancelot for advice and Merlin to unravel whatever had been done.

As it was, Lancelot was on patrol with Gwaine and Leon to make sure the Druids and Outer Villages were aware that having and practicing certain Magics was no longer punishable by death.

"Merlin." Kilgharrah greeted when Merlin arrived.

"What did you want, Kilgarrah?" Merlin asked.

"I have long since thought I was the last of my kind, I was wrong, I have found an egg in a distant region." Kilgharrah said.

"That's great, I can't wait to meet them." Merlin grinned up at the golden Dragon.

"And meet them you shall, for only a Dragonlord can call a Hatchling from their egg." Kilgharrah informed him, "It will take several days to get there."

"Oh." Merlin said, "Let's go then."

Kilgharrah nodded and bent down for Merlin to climb upon his back, then they leapt into the sky, on their way.

Most of the flight was quiet, Merlin taking his sleep in Kilgharrah's claws to avoid falling to his death when night came.

"While I have you here, I want to ask if you can breath fire on another Sword?" Merlin asked.

"And why would I do that, in the wrong hands it can do great harm." Kilgharrah reminded him.

"I want to give it to Lancelot." Merlin admitted.

"Ah." Kilgharrah said as he landed, "You wish to court the knight."

"No, yes, I mean, we've been courting, ever since he first arrived in Camelot." Merlin blushed a little.

"It'd be an anniversery gift, for his Knighthood." Merlin explained.

"He has not been a knight very long." Kilgharrah said as they approached a small cave.

"Not his Camelot Knighthood, his Old Religion one." Merlin climbed Kilgharrah's foreleg to get to the opening of the cave, too small for Kilgharrah to fit.

"So, he is a Knight of the Old Code."

Merlin nodded and looked up at Kilgharrah, "Please?"

Kilgharrah nodded, "Very well, a Knight who can swear the Old Oath of Knighthood is rare indeed. Bring me a blade and I will temper it with my flame."

"Thank you." Merlin hugged Kilgharrah's side before entering the cave to find the egg.

It was hidden behind a handful of enchantments that Merlin gently detangled. The egg was a soft blue with purple streaks through it. Merlin picked it up with great care and walked back to Kilgharrah.

"Now you call the Hatchling forth by speaking their name." Kilgharrah instructed.

Melin let his eyes close and searched for the name of the Dragon, only, he was hearing two names.

"Elpis, Efrosyni." Merlin called and opened his eyes to the cracking of the egg, smiling as two little tails flopped out.

"I have never witnessed a twin pair of Dragons." Kilgharrah said in awe as Merlin coaxed the two little ones into his arms, "Which is which?"

Merlin looked at Kilgharrah, "The blue is Elpis, her name means hope, and the purple is Efrosyni, her name means joy. It suits them."

Merlin giggled as Elpis nipped at his fingers.

"We'd better get back to Camelot." Merlin said, " Lancelot should be back by now."

"You will have to keep the Hatchlings with you, I have other places to search, and I am much too old to keep up with young Dragons." Kilgharrah told Merlin.

"Okay." Merlin said as he tucked the two Hatchlings into his shirt, against his chest, figuring the tiny Dragons would appriciate his warmth.

Within moments the Hatchlings were asleep against his chest, hatching was hard work.

"We should feed them when they wake up." Merlin said.

"Yes, but they will sleep for the trip to Camelot, hatching can be a tiring process." Kilgharrah said as he lifted Merlin up to his back.

Merlin cast a small heating spell to keep the winds' chill from his Hatchlings and hummed a lullaby his Mother had sang to him as a child.

Eventually Camelot came into view and Merlin parted ways with Kilgharrah after he kindly caught a deer for the twins' first meal, laughing at the face Merlin made when he learned he'd have to half chew their meet for a few weeks, luckly they would not come to harm from cooked meat since a Dragon would often roast their food with their fire.

High on energy from the meal Elpis and Efrosyni jumped and danced around Merlin as he walked back to the Castle, climbing up onto his shoilders as he reached the lower town from the forest.

"Where have you been, Merlin?!" Lancelot yelled as Merlin entered the courtyard, the Knights of the Round Table geared up for what was probably meant as a rescue for Merlin.

"Are those Dragons?" Gwen squealed, "They're so cute."

The group looked at the two Hatchlings.

"So, Lancelot is like most of impulse control, I may or may not have gone off with an Elder Dragon to hatch two baby Dragons." Merlin admitted.

Lancelot looked at the two Dragonlings and they stared back.

Lancelot sighed, "Sire, we're going to need a bigger room."

"We?" Merlin asked.

Lancelot smiled as he took Merlin's hand and brought it up to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

"We." Lancelot confirmed.

Elpis chirped and glided over to Lancelot's shoulder.

"Hello, you." Lancelot scratched her head.

"Her name is Elpis, but she likes being called Ellie." Merlin told him, "And this little mischief maker is Efrosyni, Effie for short." Merlin cuddled Effie against his cheek.

"Hope and Joy." Morgana said softly, "Very good names for a new beginning."

"If they eat anyone..." Arthur trailed off unsure how to end the threat as Gwen and Morgana both stepped forward to coo at the Hatchlings, "Why is this my life?"

"Well, it's never boring." Gwaine offered, as Ellie sneezed and let of a burst of sparks.

"We'll get Gaius and Geoffery to look up fireproofing spells." Elyan said and pulled Percival along with him.

"But I wanted to pet the Dragon." The knight whined, even as he let himself be pulled along.

Eventually Lancelot, Merlin and the two Hatchlings would be settled in one of the towers, which was great once the two started flying, they could come and go as they pleased, Merlin too, once he learned how to change his shape.

But for now Merlin lets Lancelot pull him into his rooms amd tucks the two Hatchlings between them, laying a heating spell on the blankets to make the Dragonlings comfy. In the morning Langelot would watch with disgust as Merlin chewed Ellie and Effie's food for them but would do the same at the dinner they shared with Arthur and the other knights.

He had chosen Merlin, just as the man had chosen him and if a life with Merlin involved Dragon Hatchlings and and half chewed meat then so be it.

A/n: is this an excuse for Merlin and Lancelot to raise baby dragons? Yep.

For those that care Merlin's gone like a week or so without telling anyone.

The names come from Greek.

Elpis — Hope

Efrosyni — Joy, mirth

#a knight #part 4 #mercelot #merlin/lancelot #merlin bbc #dragons #kilgharrah

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witchthewriter · 2 years

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𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: I apologise for the tense of the writing - I know I go back and forth from past and present. It’s difficult!

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ

SFW🌿

⭑ You and Merlin both work as apprentice healers under Gaius. And although you weren’t born with magic, you’re an avid learner of the arts.

⭑ When Merlin is away attending to Arthur, you’re usually shadowing Gaius, learning as much as you can about herbs and treatment.

⭑ One morning, while preparing the tinctures for Gaius’ long day ahead, you heard a loud thump in Merlin’s room.

“Is everything alright in there?” You called out, hands picking up vials and sprinkling in rosemary.

“Absolutely fine,” came a deep drawl from the doorway.

⭑ Your heart beat increased instantly.

⭑ The crush on Gwaine appeared as soon as he winked at you that very morning. His charm worked on you, and yet you knew he was a flirtacious person. He treated many people the same.

⭑ But you couldn’t help it. He was just so enigmatic.

⭑ Merlin picked up on it easily; you became a danger to yourself whenever Gwaine was around - dropping things, stuttering, snorting whenever he makes a joke

⭑ Men always made you feel uncomfortable, but with Gwaine, that wasn’t the case. His smooth talking was calming but he didn’t have any ill intentions.

⭑ Gwaine appears behind you whenever you’re working on something. His proximity making your focus wane.

“What do we have here?” He’d pick up a glass jar, and hold it to the light. His front nearly against your back.

“Put that down, you’ll break it,” you quipped.

“Me? I’m not the one with butter fingers-”

⭑ Merlin wouldn’t tease you about your feelings for Gwaine. He knew your heart and only teased you when he knew your feelings wouldn’t be hurt.

⭑ “I think you should tell him,” Merlin stated one night. You were both cleaning up from dinner, Gaius asleep.

“Tell who what?” You played innocent.

“Y/n, you know who I’m talking about,” Merlin stacked the dishes and placed them in a sink.

“And make myself look like an idiot? Which I already do already-” You shook your head, taking a thick book from the shelf and putting it on the table.

“I’m sure he would feel the same. I see the way he looks at you.”

You perked up, your eyes flicking quickly to Merlin’s. “Has he said anything? Merlin don’t play with me.”

‘I keep secrets, I do not tell them.”

⭑ This information made you feel fuzzy. Gwaine? Could he really see you the same way you saw him? Positive and negative thoughts fought in your brain all night.

⭑ The following morning you sat at the table, opposite Merlin. A bowl of porridge was in front of him and he was scoffing it down.

⭑ “I’m going to do it,” you stated. Trying to be firm in your words, so that your thoughts might follow.

⭑ “When? Today?” Merlin asked, his eyebrow quirking.

“I- yes.”

Tagged: https://acupnoodle.tumblr.com/ I’m sorry I changed the request a bit! Thank you for sending one in x

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sherlockruiningmylife · 11 months

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I think that at the moment I could come up with a merthur fic idea for just about any song. Every song I listen to at the moment becomes merthur coded to me.

Anyway though, I say this because I've got 2 songs currently stuck in my head as fics. The first is called Empress by Morningsiders.

For this song I imagine a modern day, maybe university au. Where Merlin and Arthur have been friends forever growing up and they room together at university, sharing an apartment. They go out on the weekends together, with regular friend dates at coffeeshops or movie theaters. They even go shopping for home decor much to Arthur's dismay. Throughout Arthur dates Gwen for a while, it started in high school, but eventually they meet Lancelot. Arthur and Gwen try so hard to make it work between them but they both know something is off, they just can't understand what.

When Arthur sees Gwen talking to Lancelot he realizes that he didn't really know what love was meant to look like. He loves Gwen, no question, but it's not that all consuming romantic soul bearing love that it should be. And its not the easy effortless love that it should be either. It's more of a love between friends. And he sees that, if he just let go, Gwen could find that with someone else, possibly Lancelot.

As Arthur comes to terms with the fact that he doesn't know how to love Gwen the way she deserves, Merlin pines over Arthur and slowly starts to pull away from him. It comes to a point, while Arthur and Gwen are still together, that Merlin realizes he's just hurting himself staying roommates with Arthur. He decides that he is going to move out. While Arthur is out on a date, Merlin packs a bag and goes to Gwaine's place to crash on his couch.

Arthur is out late on his date with Gwen. He had been nervous before the date like he hadn't been in ages. They go to dinner and chat as old friends would and it solidifies to Arthur that whatever passion they had, if they had any, is now gone. There is no animosity between them which makes it that much harder to tell Gwen why they should break up. Gwen, much to his surprise seems to understand. She looks at him sympathetically and wonders aloud why it took them this long, the signs had been there for at least a year. Arthur agrees, nodding along, until Gwen says something that stops him in his tracks.

"Have you told Merlin yet?"

Arthur puzzles and responds, "Er, no, why would I. This is our business not his, of course I'll tell him later that we've separated but no not yet."

"Oh." Gwen seems genuinely confused, "I didn't mean about breaking this off. I meant have you told Merlin about your feelings yet?"

Arthur continues to not understand and says so in as many words. Gwen sighs and mutters something about men and their emotional intelligence. Then she takes Arthur's hand and explains how she knew this was coming soon. That she had realized and tried to ignore for quite sometime that what Merlin and Arthur had was more of a relationship than the two of them had ever had. As she lays out all her observations, Arthur realizes she is right. That's what was missing, it was Merlin.

He stands up quickly from the table and drops a few bills to pay before saying goodbye as he runs out the door. When he makes it back home he hesitates, half hoping Merlin will just be asleep so that he doesn't have to admit his feelings just yet. But also wanting to see him, and hug him, kiss him even as he professes his newly realized feelings.

When he works up the courage to go inside, the place is silent. All lights are off and there isn't a single sound. Arthur calls out and there is no response so he knocks on Merlin's door. Opening it slightly he sees a neat, tidy, and more importantly empty bed.

Maybe Merlin is just out with some of their friends, Arthur rationalizes, he'll be back soon. So Arthur sits up for a couple hours waiting, but he grows restless. He'd already texted Merlin asking where he was at but didn't get a response, so now he tries texting both Gwaine and Lancelot.

To his surprise, Gwaine calls him immediately.

"Gwaine! Have you seen Merlin, he's not home and isn't responding to my texts and I'm a bit worried."

"What did you do this time princess?" Gwaine responds.

"Nothing! I swear, I was out on a date with Gwen is all and came back and Merlin's not here!"

"Ah."

"What? What does that mean, Gwaine, please tell me if you know where he is."

"He's at my place, crashing on the couch," Arthur hears an affronted yell in the background from Merlin, trying to get the phone away from Gwaine, Gwaine obviously gets the upper hand as he gets back on the line, "he wouldn't tell me what was going on so I just assumed you'd had some sort of tiff. But I see now why Merlin was sulking."

Arthur didn't really know what to make of whatever Gwaine seemed to be implying so he just said, "I'll be there soon." And hung up.

Arthur rushes over to Gwaine's and the man let him in. Merlin looks affronted at Arthur and complains that Arthur just has to go around rubbing it in, Arthur looks on confused. They wind up in a heated argument before Arthur finally breaks and admits, "I broke up with Gwen."

"What! You idiot, why would you!?"

"Because Merlin, I finally admitted to myself that we were holding each other back, and what's more she helped me realize how much of a complete and utter fool I've been."

"I'm not following you Arthur?"

"I-I, she helped me realize, that I'm in love with someone else, have been for a long time."

Merlin begins to shut down, angry at Arthur for telling him this, but then Arthur stops him and says, "she helped me realize what I've taken for granted, every coffee date and movie night, and cooking together in the kitchen. That love I've been trying to create had been right in front of me and I was a fool for, for loving her over... you."

#anyway #that last line is the line from the song #lmk if you want to see my other song inspiration merthur fic idea #or if you want me to actually write this out into a full fledged fic #merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #arthur pendragon #fanfiction #my writing #merlin fanfic #merlin bbc #merthur fanfic #empress morningsiders

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h50europe · 1 month

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MERTHUR Shifter AU - Kiss Me, Kill Me - Chapter 8 is now online on AO3

Excerpt: Merlin was almost fully dressed when Arthur's sleepy voice stopped him.

"Where... Where are you going?"

"Home," Merlin said, coughing to hide his disappointment and pain.

Arthur frowned, approaching and pausing when he noticed Merlin moving away.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his eyes wandering to the photos of him and his late mate on the mantelpiece.

"It... It has nothing to do with Gwaine," Merlin assured him, realizing that Arthur thought that was why he was getting dressed.

"Then tell me why, please."

"You don't remember?"

Arthur looked into the bedroom and then at Merlin. "I remember falling asleep."

"You... attacked me, Arthur. You tried to kill me." His words were so whispered and soft that he feared Arthur wouldn't hear him.

Arthur took a few steps forward and reached out to touch Merlin's face.

Merlin winced. "I had to use my claws to snap you out of it and pin you to the ground." Arthur dropped his hand.

#merlin #merthurfanart #merlinfanart #arthurpendragon #arthurandmerlin #colinmorganfans #colinmorgan #bradleyjames #merthurfans #bradleyjamesfans #mymanips #missingmerlin #myedits #merlin fanfic #merthur fanfic #shifters #werewolf

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bonesbuckleup · 1 year

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If you're still doing the wip tag game: Batfam 'Not quite dead yet' and Merlin 'the I CAN FIX IT world tour'?

I am! I just fell asleep and am now catching up.

Warnings for mentions of character death (in varying degrees of permanence) for both of these, so I'm gonna toss it under a cut.

Not quite dead yet: The fic classic of 'character gets hit with a Thing and is trapped in their own head while physically being unable to move/not breathing/no heartbeat and has to listen to their loved ones grieve them' but starring Tim, who really didn't anticipate this level of backlash from his alleged demise. Snip, just after Tim gets whammied, and Jason having been the only one there when Tim "died" and with Dick arriving soon after:

“I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, I didn’t–I tried to–it wasn’t me,” Jason’s saying, over and over, sounding like a kid who can’t find their parents in a crowd as he rocks Tim back and forth, back and forth, a full body sway, clutching Tim to his chest so tight that it should hurt. Why doesn’t it hurt? “I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it, please, you have to believe me, I tried to help him. Please, please, you have to believe me, I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, please, Dickie. Dickie, please, I didn’t–”

Jason keeps going, over and over, getting more and more frantic. It’s one of the worst things that Tim has ever heard. At the mouth of the alley, Dick isn’t moving. Tim can’t see his face, only his boots, his legs, the blue V on his chest. He’s stone-still, hands loose at his sides, silent and unmoving as Jason begs, and begs, and begs.

THEN THE BIG ONE. The I CAN FIX IT World Tour:

This one is technically two fics: Take Me Up, which was a complete rewrite of series 4, and Cast Me Away, which was a complete rewrite of series 5.

Aka, Becca got extremely mad at BBC's Merlin (again) and plotted out a 200k+ word fic series to try and unbreak it. Because, like, the basic premise of Merlin is that it's the start of the legend, which means that

The basic beginning premise is that the dorocha stuff more or less happens as is, but then, in the fallout, Gaius and Merlin end up suspected of sorcery. Gaius is killed. Merlin freaks out, the magic is revealed, and Merlin has to flee Camelot. He then spends the rest of the "series" trying to run from his destiny as Emrys (before eventually accepting it at the end of Take Me Up) while Arthur tries to hold power in Camelot, which is hard due to Agravaine (recasted as Uther's scheming younger brother vs. Ygraine's scheming older brother, no longer working with/for Morgana) making plays for the throne and also having his best friend revealed to be magic before disappearing.

Ultimately, in the Take Me Up "finale", Agravaine was going to kill Uther, and Arthur was going to be blamed for it, and he was also going to have to go on the run and prove himself 100% independent of his throne and name. A few highlights:

Gwaine fucking off post-Lamia to run around with Merlin

Merlin setting up a safe haven for magic users in an abandoned dragonlord keep

Aithusa, yes, but also a red dragon, Rhyfel, to signify the coming war

Lancelot comes back, but full Winter Soldier style. Gwen has to break the spell.

Arthur pulling Excalibur while fleeing from his own men, accused of his father's murder

Clash of ideologies between Merlin and Morgana, Morgana as fighting to take what she sees as hers and Merlin as he's basically setting up a magical separatist movement.

Accidental Merlin and Gwaine soul bond because those fuckers should never be left unsupervised for that amount of time

Magical army liberating magic users

Lots of twists and takes and blatant stealing from the actual episodes, but, like, presented and rolling out in a noT SHITTY WAY

Anyway. I don't have a snip, because I wrote what I have 5-6 years ago and....don't really like any of it anymore lol.

#I wrote a thing #WIP meme #mail #greyspeckledwalls #pandering for asks #Batfam #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Dick Grayson #DC #BITTER MERLIN BLOGGING #like #the BITTEREST MERLIN BLOGGING

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xviruserrorx · 8 months

Text

Title: "So Discarded So Disgraced"

This is just a fic to go along with my Edit that I made for the poly Ship Day thingy because brain worms wouldn't leave where they have become imbedded. Anyway enjoy!! (Please read ALL the warnings before continuing!)

Poly Ship Day - Tumblr | Ao3 - [Prev <- • -> Next]

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Prompt(s): De-stress

Relationship(s): Gwaine/Lancelot/Morgana Pendragon

Character(s): Gwaine, Lancelot, Morgana Pendragon

Important Tag(s): Canon Divergence, Hurt Lancelot, Hurt Gwaine, Protective Gwaine, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt no comfort, Referenced Dubious Consent, Evil Morgana (don't take this as me hating the character please), No Beta We Die Like The Rat That Got Made Into Stew

Rating: Mature (more so Teen & Up but because of the subjects that are referenced/talked about I felt more comfortable tagging this as mature)

Warning(s): No Archive Warnings Apply, referenced violence, blood, bruises, abuse, Stockholm Syndrome

Word Count: 1,403

"Nothing will change any of this." Gwaine gently grabbed his wrist of that hand, tilting his head and kissing the inside of his palm. "Then we have each other." "And Morgana?" "She's here too. She's not so soft though." Lancelot shook his head. "Nor rough." "Balance each other out then don't we?" Or Kidnapped, Lancelot and Gwaine find comfort in one another but... they're not so illy inclined to Morgana either.

Continue reading below or over on Ao3

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Lancelot felt his body move, a shift bringing him to try and open his eyes. Failing at first against his sleepy haze, he tried again, using the rustling noise he heard to latch onto and drag him out to find out where it was coming from.

He immediately became aware of the cold weightlessness beside him and looked around for the person he knew had lied there.

"My lady?"

Morgana stood at the end of the bed, slipping her dress over her shoulder and smoothing it out, no more than a glance spared towards him as she muttered a firm, "stay."

He did as told as she left the room leaving him and a sleeping Gwaine, alone, and only source of covering, the thick furs still draped over the both of them.

Waiting till the doors were shut and he was sure she left for good, he looked to the other man still asleep. He knew he needed the rest but a part of him didn't want to lie there alone in his thoughts.

He bit his lip. "Gwaine," he called, hitting the bed when he didn't stir much.

"Hm?" He hummed.

He waited for him to open his eyes more and look at him before cocking his head in the direction of the empty spot between them and the door.

Gwaine lifted his head and looked around the room. "Gone?"

He nodded. He reached for his hand and stopped, resting his hand on the bed a touch away from his.

Gwaine looked over at him.

"Come here?" He asked.

He nodded. "Give me a second."

He watched as Gwaine slowly pushed himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Marks of all sizes, small cuts, scuffs, to large slices made purposely, littered across his skin. Bruises, as though paint on his canvased skin, were an array of colors of old to new to a light red that he knew would lay future bruises till they were allowed to heal over, or not at all.

Lancelot almost wished his body mirrored Gwaine's, to share his pain and feel the same level of responsibility of shared harm. But it didn't. The most his body reflected was the consequences of wearing manacles for hours to days on end, rings of bruises and scars lining his neck, wrist, and ankles. Fingernails and fingertips were all the same with little damage he caused himself from clawing and pulling at chains and metal till the pain became an equally drowning numbness.

Gwaine winced as he stretched out the small nap they both had, favoring his left side as the right was stained black with a broken rib Lancelot knew was hidden underneath.

"I thought that was healing?" He spoke when he heard Gwaine attempt to take a few extra deep breaths.

He chuckled. "It was." He turned, and looked at him. "Don't worry about it, you were asleep." He smiled past his grimace and leaned back, falling onto his good side to be laying close looking up at Lancelot.

He looked at Gwaine, smile and all, despite anything being such a warrant to smile. He reached out, gently pulling the front lock of hair away from the rest of his hair and playing with it.

"Maybe… it was your fault." He dawdled the idea he knew was wrong that thinking it hurt him, but saying it was all the worse.

"Maybe," Gwaine agreed. "I'll take the blame."

"Just to do it again?"

"Just to do it again," he repeated. His smile never once falling past his words.

Lancelot wrapped the lock of hair loosely around his finger, letting it unravel before doing it again. "Maybe it's my fault."

"No.…" Gwaine softly shook his head.

He scoffed. "You do something wrong, you get hurt. I do something wrong, you still get hurt."

"But it's not you."

He dropped his hand. "You can't take the blame for both of us."

"I can and I have," he stated once again, his words leaving no room for any argument.

"And if I disagree?"

Gwaine brought his fingers to Lancelot's hand and brushed them across his palm. "It won't do anything to change us."

"Us?" Lancelot asked.

"Me, you, and…." The absence of body and his word made her presence all the more known.

As if that was too much, Lancelot shook his head, sitting up and waiting as Gwaine followed his move.

"Just stop fighting back." He wanted to beg, to plead with him not to do anything else to get hurt, but he knew how little begging, no matter how much done, was futile.

"You like it when I fight back," Gwaine joked. Holding his side as his breath picked up from the sudden movement.

Lancelot grimaced. "Gwaine…"

There was a sigh.

"She likes it," Gwaine corrected himself. "And you…" he brought his hand up, a finger brushing Lancelot's lower cheek. His eyes wandered and graced every feature as a smile made its way to his face. "You make everything better."

Gwaine leaned in, his finger going with the rest as his hand wrapped the back of his neck, thumb resting now on his lower jaw as he pulled him in the remaining distance, lips meeting with gentle utterance.

The kiss, like a gasp of air after suffocating, Lancelot took it in all at once. Every touch, making itself deeper and known, with no worry of harm attached at Gwaine's expense.

But Lancelot dared very little to even so much as to misplace a hair on his head. He knew every move, every breath, and every touch would ache through Gwaine's body, with sight of every mark and bruise or simply the memory of what was once there.

Lancelot braced his arms back on the bed as Gwaine pushed more into the kiss. Both out of breath, they broke for a second before continuing. Lancelot now returned some of the force Gwaine used and earned a small groan from the other man, from pleasure or pain being beyond what he could fathom.

Both of their lips were dry and cracked. The corner of Lancelot's lower lip was chewed up where he'd gotten into the habit of worrying it when he waited with his back to the door and Morgana and Gwaine on the other side.

A stinging sensation evident as they continued on.

And Gwaine's were still slightly swollen from the busted lip that was only a few days into healing. The corner of his mouth barely passed a scab from where it was cut and the newest wound, only a day old.

That one evident as Lancelots felt the rough edge of the scab press into his own lip.

The cut that had been purposely made with a sharp small dagger at a meal, a memory he couldn't remember past the scene of blood pouring down Gwaine's mouth and chin, blood that seemed to last hours but was a matter of minutes.

He pulled back and broke the kiss, that memory at the forefront as a wave of nausea tidal waved over him.

Gwaine pulled back, eyebrows furrowed with concern written all over.

Lancelot hated it. He raised up his hand, thumb coming to his lip as he rubbed at the scab rougher than he planned.

Gwaine winced.

"Nothing will change any of this."

Gwaine gently grabbed his wrist of that hand, tilting his head and kissing the inside of his palm. "Then we have each other."

"And Morgana?"

"She's here too." Another kiss. "She's not so soft though." He rubbed his thumb across the scarred bruised skin around his wrist, barely brushing past to leave any sort of feeling.

Lancelot shook his head. "Nor rough."

Gwaine scoffed out a small laugh. "Balance each other out then don't we?" He cocked that grin of his, waiting for the wanted inevitable as Lancelot began to close in.

Though that never came.

They both startled as the double doors swung open, two guards at the doors as Morgana walked through. One guard behind her handed her a small pile of clothes, that of which he tossed towards the both of them.

"Get changed."

"My lady?" Lancelot spoke.

She tossed both of their swords and swords belts down onto the edge of the bed. "Ready to prove yourselves?"

He looked at Gwaine then back to Morgana. Unsurety creeping under his skin as Gwaine wrapped his hand tighter and tighter around his.

#bbc merlin #polyamshippingday #virusfanfic #morgwaincelot #morgana pendragon #sir lancelot #sir gwaine #i would like to say this is the first fic in the Gwaine/Lancelot/morgana tag and i honestly thought it was already a thing but i guess not #rare pairs my beloved #fanfiction

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koalas-koalas-everywhere · 10 months

Text

Mercelot Week 2023 Day 7: Purple/Dragons (When Love Was An Act Of Defiance Sneak Peak)

In which Lancelot doesn't die and that changes... well, not that much, actually. Up until it does.

<< That's what the summary would be IF I HAD A COMPLETE FIC TO POST. These are sneak peaks posted as part of Mercelot Week 2023.

----------------------------

Stop me if you've heard this one before. A knight and a sorcerer walk into a tomb…

This is it! 'Tis the end! And it brings with it aNOTHer scene from Aithusa (yadda yadda "TTWCCISLN"). Hey, what's happening in the end notes?

Ao3

They had to stop by the camp. Not only was it on the way to the tomb, they had to get the Triskelion out of Arthur’s pack. Which was leaning in a tree. Along with all their stuff. Right next to the sleeping knights.

“Stay here,” Merlin told Lancelot once they were outside the clearing they’d chosen to spend the night in. “I’ll get it. You’ve got all that” —he gestured up and down at his chainmail, belt, weapons— “metal, you might make a noise.”

Lancelot stared at him. He glanced at the tree with the packs, then back. His cheek twitched. “Alright. Go ahead.”

Merlin frowned at him, but there wasn’t time to push for an explanation. He walked over to the edge of the clearing, looked around to make sure everyone was asleep, and stepped in.

He tiptoed past Elyan, then had to dodge Percival, who couldn’t help but take up space. So busy watching his steps around him, he didn’t notice an object close to the fire and stumbled on it. To avoid too much flailing, he went down on his knee. Crisis averted, he grabbed what had made him trip and held it up. It was some gloves. With a curse, he flung them aside.

He was more careful walking past Arthur and Gwaine, who could be as easy to startle while sleeping out in the wild as they were hard to wake up in the safety of the castle. They were also the ones closest to their packs.

He was watching Gwaine’s face to make sure he didn’t stir, when he felt something soft under the foot he was laying down. He froze. It was Arthur’s hand. He tried to shift all his weight down to the foot in the back, but it ended up upsetting his balance. He wavered for a second, dismally aware that he was about to step on Arthur full-on. Forward, backward, to the side, forward... Suddenly, the king scrunched up his face and turned over, pulling his hand along, just as Merlin leaned forward on the offending foot. He blew out a sharp breath.

Finally, he crouched down next to the tree. Arthur’s pack was in the middle of the pile. He put aside some swords leaning on them, moved the top two bags, one by one, and only then started digging through Arthur’s. The Triskelion was near the opening. He pocketed it and put everything back in its place.

He was halfway back across the camp when he heard a scraping noise and turned around. It was followed faster than he could react by the bangs and clangs of the swords falling down, dragging everything else in the pile along. He held his breath and closed his eyes as the knights began to stir.

Then Percival let out a mighty snore and turned over. The rest followed suit in chorus. Nothing else happened.

Merlin half-ran, half-tiptoed the rest of the way. Lancelot was leaning against a tree, hands against his mouth to muffle his laughter. Merlin grabbed his shoulder as he went and pulled him along.

They kept a fast pace towards the tomb. While the tower could be seen from the camp, there wasn’t a straight path to it. The sky had started to grey when they finally arrived. To their dismay, though, the only way in that they could see was up an almost sheer wall.

“It’s not smooth, at least,” Lancelot pointed out optimistically. “There’s plenty of gaps and crannies to use as handholds.”

“I’m sure they’ll be a lovely surface to scrape down on if we fall,” Merlin retorted.

They climbed the wall, anyway.

“How on earth are you so good at that?” Lancelot demanded between gasps, halfway there.

Merlin looked down at him from three meters up. “I just am, I guess.”

“Are you using magic?” he insisted.

“No!”

The wall ended in a corridor carved in the stone and they took a few moments to breathe before pushing forward.

“I mean it,” Lancelot said. “How?”

Merlin just wheezed loudly in response. A sudden fear same over him and he checked his pockets. The Triskelion was still there. He sighed in relief. After a while, he shared a nod with Lancelot and they moved on.

“Remind me again what the druids said about traps?” Lancelot requested when the corridor became enclosed by walls.

“Iseldir said the Triskelion was a trap… or could set off a trap… He wasn't sure...” Merlin looked around, searching for a clue.

The corridor took a turn to the left. A short flight of stairs led to a wooden door. On it lay a stone circle, engraved with two triskelions — one was a normal design, like a decoration, the other, more deeply carved in, crude, with circles instead of spirals. It matched the key to the last detail.

Merlin took it out of his pocket and held it up.

“That’s the lock, I suppose.”

Lancelot glanced between the Triskelion, the door and Merlin warily, before letting out a sigh.

“Just… be careful,” he told him.

Merlin smiled, suddenly feeling shy, and nodded. He walked up to the door. After all this time, Lancelot’s concern shouldn’t have still made him giddy. It should have never made him giddy at all, in fact. He’d proven himself capable enough to face whatever dangers life threw his way too many times over to need someone to worry about him. Even Gaius had recognized that. Lancelot’s sword made a scraping sound as he pulled it out of its sheath. Merlin blinked at the stone carving, berating himself for getting distracted right then. He lifted the Triskelion to the lock and pushed it in. A perfect fit.

Nothing happened.

The stone seemed to shift under his hands, though, becoming loose. Nerves alight at the delay of the danger he knew was near, Merlin spun the Triskelion. The door started to fall open and he had to hold it up. He looked back at Lancelot.

“Eyes front,” he gestured with his chin, bracing himself with his sword.

Merlin took a step back, letting the door follow his movements. When nothing happened, he peered inside the room. Even in the dim light, it was clear it had fallen to ruin, but otherwise looked like any other old castle chamber he’d ever seen. He left the protection of the door and inched inside.

Some kind of gas was shot not a handspan away from his face. He stumbled back and almost took a spill down the stairs.

“Merlin!” Lancelot cried. His feet slammed up the steps without concern for his own safety. He pushed Merlin behind him, taking his place, and lifted up his cape to protect them both.

It gave Merlin enough of a respite that he could cover his face with his jacket and throw out his hand.

“Æðm blinn!”

The gas retreated. Even though Merlin’d barely breathed any of it in, both of them were left coughing in its wake. Lancelot was forced to his knees by heaves. When he recovered a little, he looked up at Merlin through watery eyes.

“What?” he asked.

Only then did he notice that he’d opened his mouth to say something. Pity he didn’t know what it was.

“You should’ve stayed away, that was dangerous,” he pulled out of the whirlwind of emotions inside him, but, while not wrong, it wasn’t what he’d meant to tell him. “Thanks,” he corrected himself, which was closer, but not quite right.

Lancelot huffed out a laugh. “Don’t mention it. Especially if it keeps you from telling me off.”

Merlin looked away into the chamber and summoned a light. They entered slowly, wary of more traps, but that seemed to be it. It was a wonder the first one had worked at all — moss, grime and water damage clung to the brick walls and covered the floor. Seeing it from the inside didn’t make it any less underwhelming. Of course, Merlin didn’t say that out loud. Why tempt fate?

He changed his mind when they reached the Main Hall. Or what he assumed was the Main Hall. If there was a greater room in the tower, Merlin feared the sight would make him pass out. His first glimpse from the bottom of the stairs was enough to freeze him in his tracks. He took the steps one by one, rows and rows of elegant marble pillars revealing themselves as he went, ceilings so high they were just shadows. The morning light that entered through high windows on every wall coloured the room silver.

Seeming to cast a glow of its own, an orb rested on an altar near the top of the stairs. It was an uneven white, streaked with blue that became more prominent in its wide base. The top was pointy, like a teardrop. Merlin thought it looked somewhat like a pearl. As he got closer, he changed his mind. It was like stone.

“Is that it?” Lancelot breathed out from behind him.

Merlin let the light go out. He walked closer still and lifted his hands to hover around the orb, noting the small grooves and almost gritty exterior. He’d been wrong before. It looked just like an egg.

“Yeah,” he answered in the same tone. He took his hands away to open his bag, then made to grab the egg.

“Careful,” Lancelot warned him. “Remember the trap at the entrance. It might not be the only one.”

Merlin looked back for the first time. Lancelot was standing several feet away, barely past the top of the stairs. His battle ready stance was at odds with the awe in his face, but he wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the hall. His wide eyes were firmly on Merlin.

He smiled and nodded, turning back to the egg.

“I have to take it,” Merlin gave a warning of his own.

“Go ahead.”

He grabbed the egg. A gasp escaped him. It was warm. Three hundred years,��he thought. It was as smooth as an eggshell, but now he could feel the solidity of stone. He could feel so much.

The hall trembled. Dust started to fall from the ceiling and Merlin suspected that the same was happening in the floor beneath them. He stored the egg away as quickly as he dared.

All of a sudden, the walls cracked, pieces of stone and marble raining down on their heads.

“Merlin!” Lancelot cried out.

“Sċild ús!” Merlin incanted, making the debris bounce harmlessly off a solid strip of air above them.

It wouldn’t protect them from the ground falling apart beneath their feet, though, so he rushed to the stairs. He stopped for a moment to let Lancelot through, but he shoved him forward. They raced back the way they came, dust clouding the air and their lungs. When they got to the hallway that would lead outside, though, Lancelot wrapped his arm around Merlin’s shoulder and took him down a different turn.

“I think I saw another way out. Do you think you could tell it to open?”

He pointed to what Merlin at first assumed was a large carving of a dragon on the wall, peering its head over folded wings. It was a strange detail, though, when the rest of the lower hallways were all bare bricks. Instinct urged him to hurry down the known path instead of wasting time with a possible dead end, but the wall outside wasn’t really an option. Even if he could find a way to get the egg to the bottom safely, they didn’t have time to climb down. He'd have to try.

Merlin closed his eyes to better focus inwards. Every other time he’d used his dragonlord voice, he’d had Kilgharrah as an anchor, or even the wyverns. He wasn’t sure he could find it for a statue. Then he felt a pull from the egg, the whisper of a tingle, and realized he wouldn’t have to.

He opened his eyes.

“Ὦ πυλαωρός, ὠΐξου δή, ὥς κεν ἐκφύγομεν ὁ ὄλεθρα, γένος γάρ εἰμι δρακόντων!”

The dragon’s wings unfurled, spinning on hinges at the top, so they no longer covered the exit, but framed it instead. Lancelot let out a small laugh and patted his back. As they walked through the entrance, Merlin looked up gratefully at the dragon’s head, feeling the gesture like a benediction.

After a small landing, their new path gave way to narrow stairs, which they took two at a time. Merlin summoned a light to guide them almost as an afterthought. The hallways they crossed were much more stable than those outside, shaking and falling apart at the corners. Nonetheless, they knew they would fall apart just the same as the rest of the tower, so they didn’t relax their pace.

Eventually, the stairs ended in a room as small as the landing at the top with a small gateway. When they crossed it, they could see there was another dragon carved on the other side of the wall, wings already lifted. It left them in an open entrance hall, at ground level, they were glad to see. Judging by the sunlight, it was facing away from cave, the direction any traveller would’ve approached from.

“A gate for dragonlords,” Merlin said, walking backwards to see it better. “Ashkanar wanted us to find it.”

Now outside, the crumbling of the tower was much more obvious, and much more deadly. Lancelot stuck to Merlin’s back once again as they hurried away from the destruction. They scrambled back to the higher ground of the forest, just in time to see the Tomb of Ashkanar crumble down on itself. Over the clamour, they heard footsteps approaching.

Arthur and the other knights came running, a mix of relief and urgency on their faces.

“Where have you been?! We were worried about you!” Elyan exclaimed.

Percival nodded in agreement, but Gwaine twisted his face and shrugged. Percival elbowed him.

“Once we saw this thing falling apart, sure, we were worried,” he conceded.

In Arthur, this presented itself as annoyance, of course.

“What the hell happened?” he demanded, watching the last of the tower crumple away.

Notes:

“Æðm blinn!”: Changed the og spell from “Smoke, part!” To “Vapor, go away!” Because I’m random :P Scildan!: Straight from the merlin wiki, it’s the same spell Merlin used to protect himsel from Kilgharrah in Le Morte d’Arthur. You may have noticed that is NOT the spell I used — that would be because it’s the non conjugated verb, meaning something more or less like “to shield!” Only not. Because that would be to sċildenne (inflected infinitive — basically, what you’d use to sya, for example, “it’s my duty to shield the people”). So it’s basically like shouting “the verb shield!” I changed it to “shield us”. So. Something you may not have know because I never told you is that I've been using the notes on my doc for the end notes. It's where I record my reactions, the stuff I don't use, make logs, write down the translations. Now. Are you ready for a journey? Crying, shaking, throwing up using Ancient Greek For Everyone(https://pressbooks.pub/ancientgreek/chapter/41/) and an online dictionary (https://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/definitionlookup?type=exact&q=champion&target=greek) to translate “Open, (o) gatekeeper, so that we may escape, for I am family to dragons.” I may have messed up the conjugation. And the order, definitely. I’m not sure you’re supposed to say both ὁ and εἰμί. “ Οιγου, ὦ πυλαωρός, ὥς οἱ ἄν ἐκφεύγοιμεν, γάρ ὁ εἰμί οἱ δράκόντων τό γένος!” Phonetic Spelling: Oigoo, oh pulaourOS, hous ohi Au ekfeUgoimen, gAp ho eimI’ohi drAkounoun tO gEnos! In doing a phonetic spelling, I found two issues: 1) it’s impossible to do that for an english person because you’re not normal about your vowel to sound ratio, so this is for my spanish peeps out there 2) ancient greek (maybe modern greek too wtf) was apparently very melodic, many marks signalling a rise and/or fall in pitch, per vowel, and I can’t explain that, so you get stress marks. 3) This is not an inherent problem of phonetics but by god did I keep geting u (υ) and n (ν) mixed up. <<All that applies to the original translation: I have since realized that there is a difference between the guide I was using, which was in Koine Greek, and Homeric Greek. I tried to use the wikipedia guide, but I gave up and used Chat GPT and it’s keeping me HUMBLE. Then again, I’m keeping it humble, too. Except for how it’s an algorithm that can’t keep note of their own answers, much less my corrections. A night well spent, wouldn’t you agree? Oh, by the way, the phonetic spelling would've been wrong for the original, too. Hey, uh. You will NOT believe what happened when I checked the translation one last time before I posted it. Yeah. I don't think it's too far off too say that eventually I decided "if Homer can make up words no one else even uses, so can I", esp. for "open". It has the bonus of not looking like "family" in modern greek, apparently.

And with THAT hot mess, I bid you goodbye! Until I finish writing the other ≥7 chapters! (And then editing them. So. Yeah.) I'm reaaalllllyyyy backed up with the other entries, but I am hoping to finish reading all of them eventually.

#MercelotWeek2023 #mercelot #Merlin #Lancelot #bonus knights #Merlin BBC #lancelot lives au #alt season 4 #bonus Merlin's dragonlord abilities #and my struggle to write homeric greek when I don't think homer really understood homeric greek

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 years

Text

Seeing White

Prompts: heyy idk if you still write merlin fics anymore but if you wanted to could you possibly write something where merlin suffers from some kind of physical ailment as a result of repressing his magic. i've read a couple fics with similar concepts and i love your works, so i was wondering if you'd be up to writing something like this? - anon

hiii i have a merlin prompt if you're interested! it would be really cute to see a fic where merlin can see things that other people can't as a result of his magic, and so he just stares off into the distance or just wanders off sometimes and the knights notice and are super confused about it!! - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: hallucinations--at least Merlin thinks they are, he represses his magic

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 3309

“I can never trust magic, not when it has taken so much from me.”

So Merlin hides his away, buries it so deeply within himself he can forget it was ever there. And there it stays, even as his hands start to slow, to ache, to burn with the pain of loss, mourning for something inherent.

And then a dragon comes looking for it.

The first time he sees her, he thinks he’s dreaming.

He’s in the courtyard, drawing water for Arthur’s bath—really, even though the prat rolls around in the mud every chance he gets with the knights, he doesn’t need that many baths—and shut up, Gwaine, not like that—when a flicker of white catches his eye.

He glances up. The bucket falls from his hands with a loud clang.

Aithusa.

White scales, white wings, the curve of her snout as she turns her head. She settles on the edge of the well and looks at him. Her eyes swirl as a soft chitter emerges from her throat.

She can talk? She can…wait, what is going on?

“What are you doing,” Merlin hisses, glances around frantically to make sure no one’s noticed her and called for the guards, “you can’t be here! They’re going to hurt you!”

Another woman begins to approach the well and Merlin tenses, mouth opening ready to defend Aithusa or say something—anything—

She gives him a small nod and lowers her bucket into the well, drawing water with nary a glance at the white dragon perched near her elbow. Merlin glances from her to Aithusa and back. The dragon simply shuffles, still looking at him pointedly. The woman finishes drawing the water and bids him good day. Merlin just manages to nod back as Aithusa lifts her head to sniff the air.

Oh, he realizes faintly, I must be dreaming.

Yes, now that he looks around, the edges of the world are a little fuzzy. It’s hard to focus on them, his eyes slide right back to Aithusa and what’s in front of him. People are smiling a bit more than they normally would, their voices a tad more muffled. Something keeps him here, near the well, and yes, that’s right. He’s dreaming. He’s dreaming that he can see Aithusa here.

But why? Why would he dream of her now? He’s dreamed of her before, surely, and his chest aches at the memories of watching her fly off into the darkness only to hear her scream.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand, “I’m sorry I’ve not taken care of you.”

But she pulls away from his hand and snorts at him. Another jot of pain runs through his fingers and he pulls them back, rubbing absentmindedly. He scoffs.

“Figures that even when I’m asleep my hands won’t stop hurting,” he mumbles, looking up at Aithusa again, “at least your wings look better.”

She snorts again, before glancing at the well and the bucket. Merlin sighs.

“I know. I should get back to work.”

Aithusa thumps her front paws on the stone well and glares at him.

“…what?” He looks dumbly at her. “I can’t—what do you want me to do?”

No amount of pointing and snorting and disappointed looks can convey what she wants, it seems and finally, she takes off in a swirl of wings. Merlin can’t help reaching after her, only for the pain to numb his hand before he can outstretch it. He collapses onto the well, still staring at the sky.

“Merlin? Merlin!”

He blinks. He looks up. Arthur is coming toward him across the courtyard. He struggles to his feet and dips the bucket into the well.

“Merlin, what’re you doing? What’s taking you so long?” Arthur puts his hands on his hips. “I had half a mind to send Leon out after you.”

“Maybe if you weren’t so much of a prat, I wouldn’t need so much water to fill your tub.”

He receives a cuff to the head that’s too affectionate to hurt, but he winces anyway when his hands refuse to grip the bucket. Arthur plucks it effortlessly from him, eyes too worried for the glare to work either.

“I’m making sure you get your exercise.”

“In what, putting up with you?”

Arthur just rolls his eyes and starts back toward the castle. “Perhaps if you worked on your chores as much as you do your wit, I’d run out of things for you to do.”

“Then you’d just make up more things.”

Merlin can’t help glancing over his shoulder at the well. Could he really have fallen asleep there? In the middle of the day, on those hard stone steps, in the middle of his chores.

He must’ve done, how else would Aithusa have been here?

The second time he sees her, he thinks he’s cursed.

It’s been a long trip. Merlin lifts his foot from the mud and gears when his boot deigns to remain firmly in the sodden ground. He grunts, his arms out for balance as he wiggles and manages to get his foot back into the boot. Not his most elegant display, certainly.

When no snickers or quips fly his way, his shoulders slump. They’re all exhausted. Gwaine is struggling with his cloak and brambles a few paces away, Leon is doing his best to get Percival’s wound patched up so they can make it safely through the mud, and Elyan trails after Lancelot with the pile of firewood.

“I don’t know how much good this is going to be,” he grunts as they finally set it down, “the ground is waterlogged and so is the wood.”

“We need to start a fire,” Arthur reminds, but even his normal pratlyness has dimmed, “even if it’s only a little one.”

Merlin glances at the place they’ve laid the wood. He winces. They’ve done their best to find the driest spot of ground, but it’s still squishing around the wood and the scraps of kindling they’ve managed to drag up from the surrounding foliage look…dubious at best. Lancelot crouches down next to it and tries with the flint and steel.

“Damn,” he mutters as he stands back up a few minutes later with no success, “guess we’d better find something else.”

His gaze rests on Merlin and unbidden, his hands start to ache again. His cheeks flush and he turns away, fiddling with the straps on the bag instead. He can’t. He knows he can’t. Lancelot knows he can’t.

But if he doesn’t, this night may turn from miserable to dangerous very, very quickly.

And a flutter of wings makes his heart almost stop.

Trying to be as subtle as possible, he turns around, heart in his throat.

There, perched over the dry stack of wood, is Aithusa. She looks at him, bone-white amidst the decrepit and rotting trees, and rears up, exposing her powerful chest. His breath catches as the knights begin to come toward the campsite.

No, no, girl, you have to leave, he begs silently, trying to stumble forward, you’re going to get hurt, I won’t be able to stop them, please, don’t do this!

Aithusa pays him no mind—and why would she? What cause does she have to believe in the good in him?—and simply stands proud over the collection of wood. Fear races through Merlin’s veins as he scrabbles for handholds and footholds to reach her before the knights do.

His hands cry out as he hauls himself upwards, but he doesn’t care. Nor does he care for the salt on his cheeks as he struggles toward her. Aithusa simply watches.

“Please,” he whispers, “please, girl, you have to go, you’ll be hurt, please!”

Don’t make me watch you die in front of me too.

The sharp sound of a sword against a whetstone. His eyes widen and he lunges forward—

“Merlin?” A pair of hands catch him as he almost stumbles into the firewood. He looks up to see Leon eyeing him in concern. “Careful, now, don’t hurt yourself.”

Where—

Merlin looks around, but there’s no sign of her. No white dragon, no chitters, no rustling of wings. But she was just here, she was so real—

“Merlin,” and that’s Arthur now, “Merlin, look at me.”

Merlin turns, his gaze meeting Arthur’s. He tries to look serious and stern but it falls as he takes in Merlin’s frantic expression. He exchanges a quick glance with Leon before stepping closer.

“What’s wrong,” he asks, lowering his voice, “did you see something?”

A flash of white out of the corner of his eye and he whips his head around—

No Aithusa. But he does see a broad flat rock, dried out by the last of the day’s sun, that’s big enough to set up a campfire. He points at it with a shaking, aching finger.

“There,” he mumbles, “we can—it should be dry enough.”

Arthur follows his point, ordering the others to gather the wood and move there as he glances back at Merlin. He reaches out and claps him on the shoulder.

“Not just for hats, is it?”

“Shows what you know,” he shoots back halfheartedly, “prat.”

“Idiot.”

Leon holds onto him a moment longer before calling his name again. “Are you sure you’re alright? You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Merlin stops. A ghost…

That’s it.

He looks down at his hands. A bit grubby and scraped, but nothing that would merit the bone-weary ache seeping through them as he tries to move. He looks up again at the spot where Aithusa had spread her wings, as if daring a knight to run her through.

He swallows heavily and shakes Leon off, helping to gather the rest of the supplies as Elyan finally gets a fire going. He settles down with his share of dried meat and can’t taste any of it.

He watches the smoke and thinks he can see wings flapping in the breeze.

Look, oh mighty warlock, it taunts as it blows itself stinging into his eyes, look at how little you can do, look what good your power has brought you. What good is it? What good are you?

His hands hurt too much to rip any more of the meat. Tears roll down his cheeks as he stares into the blinding smoke.

“Merlin!”

He turns. Lancelot looks at him, reaching out to pat away his tears with gentle hands.

“What are you looking at?” He brushes away another. “The smoke isn’t good for your eyes, you know.”

He does know. He says as much. He doesn’t answer the question of what he was looking at.

He’s learned his lesson about trying to explain curses.

The third time he sees her, she’s real.

He’s learned to ignore the flutters of white and the rustling of wings now. The curse of Aithusia is just another burden his shoulders bear, as is the constant ache in his hands as he opens doors, dresses in the morning, lets them hang limply by his sides. The knights are growing worried, he knows, they treat him more gently now, and as much as he wishes he could snap at them that he’s not some fragile flower, he won’t admit that he thrills at the soft way they make sure he has to do as little work as possible when he follows Arthur out to the training grounds.

Speaking of Arthur, he’s noticed too. He’s made Merlin eat with him in the morning—probably something he went to Gaius about, if Merlin had to guess. He watches Merlin, now, too, not that he ever really stops watching Merlin—yes, he can see him, he’s not nearly as discrete as he thinks he is—but it’s more obvious now. Every so often when Arthur’s working at his desk, Merlin will hear the soft scratchings of the quill cease. And he looks over and Arthur’s just staring at him, an inscrutable expression on his face.

He dodges the questions when he can, answers as honestly as possible when he can’t.

But everything gets worn out of him eventually, and he has to collapse on a stone bench in an abandoned courtyard, just to stop for one second.

And of course, that’s when a shadow falls across him.

He looks up and barely blinks at the sight of Aithusa in front of him. The dragon snorts, ambling closer, wings tucked close against her sides. His hands twitch with renewed ache.

“I don’t know what you want,” he murmurs, half-talking to himself, “I don’t know what else I can do.”

She snorts again and nudges at his hands.

Wait, she nudges his hands?

He blinks, slowly turning his hands palm up, trembling with the strain of it. Aithusa rumbles low in her throat and does it again. He gasps as her tongue slides roughly across his palms.

The curse must be getting worse if I can actually feel her.

As if she can hear his thoughts, the dragon stops licking his hands and raises her head, glaring at him, before pressing her snout against his forehead. Her scales are smooth and thrum with her magic and it makes him gasp.

“Merlin?”

Arthur. That’s Arthur. He should respond. But Aithusa is warm and her magic holds him still and he’s just so tired.

“Merlin, where—“

The way Arthur’s voice cuts off sharply is enough to make him turn and look. Arthur stares at a spot just over his head.

“Merlin,” he says with practiced calm, “would you like to explain why there’s a dragon in front of you?”

Wait.

“You…you can see her too?”

Several expressions flicker across Arthur’s face at once before settling on something that looks like fond exasperations. “Yes, Merlin, I can see her. Have you always had a pet dragon or is this some new stray you’ve decided to take in?”

“She’s not my pet,” Merlin bites out, squeezing his eyes shut, “she’s not—she—“

Aithusa rumbles softly and footsteps come closer.

“Okay, okay, she’s not your pet,” Arthur’s voice says quietly, “but what is she?”

“She’s real,” Merlin mumbles, “she’s here and she’s real.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“She’s real…”

“So you’ve said.” A note of concern colors Arthur’s voice now. “Is there a reason why she shouldn’t be?”

“She can’t be real, she can’t be here, it’s not safe…”

“What do you mean, Merlin, what do you mean it isn’t safe?”

“It’s not safe,” he insists stubbornly, “it’ll never be safe here, not for her, not for—“

He claps a hand over his mouth, despite the pain flaring brighter. Aithusa growls, nudging his hand with her snout. Arthur looks between the two of them.

“Not safe for her? She’s a dragon, Merlin, what do you mean it’s not safe for her?”

Aithusa pays Arthur no mind, instead nudging insistently at Merlin’s hand. Merlin won’t move. He can’t. He almost ruined everything. He won’t ruin it, not now.

But then strong and sure fingers are prying his hand away from his mouth and more grab his chin and turn it.

“Why isn’t it safe,” Arthur asks, his voice barely above a whisper, “why not?”

“She’s magic.” He swallows heavily. “She’s magic, Arthur.”

He spares a glance at the dragon. “Yes, and in the time she’s been here, all she’s done is lick your hands and rest her head against yours. Hardly the most dangerous thing in the world to me.”

As if in agreement, Aithusa nudges Merlin’s hands again. He winces at the jostling of his already aching hands and Arthur sighs.

“Your hands still hurt, then?”

Merlin’s head snaps up. “You knew?”

“Merlin, I’ve seen you do far more work than any servant should be able to do without complaints, and then all of a sudden you couldn’t lift a nightshirt without wincing. Yes, I noticed.”

Aithusa growls again, nudging his hands insistently.

“Gaius said you hadn’t said anything, so out with it. What happened?”

“Nothing,” Merlin says immediately, much to the disbelief of both the dragon and Arthur, “I didn’t do anything.”

As those words leave his mouth, Aithusa suddenly pushes her head hard against his hands.

He gasps.

Magic, his magic, the magic he buried so deep he didn’t think he would ever have the compulsion to reach for it again, surges to the surface as her magic reaches deep into his hands. The world glows gold for a moment before he blinks awake, finding himself slumped against Arthur with a dragon’s head purring in his lap.

The pain is gone.

“W-what—“

“Oh, you idiot,” Arthur breathes from next to him, “did you try to repress your magic?”

What?

Wait, what?

“Yes, I know you have magic,” Arthur says irritably, “you weren’t the best at hiding it, you know. The knights know too, even though I suspect you told at least some of them. That’s why your hands have been hurting, you absolute buffoon!”

Merlin just blinks helplessly up at him.

“Oh, Merlin, you are useless sometimes.”

“But—your father—the ban—“

“But you, and the knights, and the dragon,” Arthur responds, still holding him as he scolds him, “she’s probably just as cross as I am, isn’t she? That you’ve been repressing your magic like an idiot?”

Aithusa snuffles in agreement and Merlin is so, so confused.

Arthur just sighs, gaze softening as he cups Merlin’s face.

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says quietly, “you’re an idiot, and you need to never do that ever again. You’re hurting yourself.”

“B-but—why aren’t you mad?”

“I am mad,” Arthur says, “I’m furious at how much you’ve hurt yourself for no good reason.”

“No good—“ Merlin struggles away from him— “I live in Camelot! I’m a sorcerer who lives in a place where magic is illegal!”

“And you used to flaunt that with every chance you got,” Arthur responds, “until something changed. What was it?”

“You wanted it to!”

Arthur freezes.

Merlin presses his lips tightly together and turns away. He hunches his shoulders. “You…you hate magic. You told me you did. So…so…”

“Oh, Merlin,” he hears from behind him, “out of all the times you chose to listen to me…”

“I listen to you.”

“Not enough, it seems.” And there are warm arms around him that guide him back to a strong chest and a dragon’s snuffle. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Not if you’re going to execute me.”

“I could never.” Arthur holds him firmly. “I could never.”

Aithusa’s head bumps their shoulders.

“I think your dragon would hunt me down if I tried.” A snort of approval and Arthur’s chuckle. “See? It’s safe.”

He doesn’t want to believe it. He can’t believe it. It’s not—it can’t be real. It can’t be. Not like this.

But then Aithusa laps at his hands again and—and—

Oh.

With trembling hands, he reaches out and lets a soft golden glow dance along the scales of the dragon’s snout. She purrs under the attention and his magic surges.

“There you are,” Arthur mumbles as Merlin’s magic runs free for the first time in too long, “I missed you.”

#merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #fic #dragonbabbles

28 notes · View notes

lover-of-midnight · 2 years

Text

It hurts

Rating:

Mature

Archive Warning

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

Gen

Fandom:

Merlin (TV)

Relationship:

Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Characters:

Merlin (Merlin)

Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Leon (Merlin)

Gwaine (Merlin)

Gaius (Merlin)

Additional Tags:

Hurt Merlin (Merlin)

Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)

Protective Knights (Merlin)

Aftermath of Violence

Threats of Violence

Whump

One-Shot

Wordcount: 1.000-3.000

FebuWhump2021

febuwhumpday8

Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin)

Hurt/Comfort

Angst

Language:English

Series: ← Previous Work Part 8 of the Febuwhump 2021series

Collections: febuwhump 2021

@febuwhump

The night air was cold, the knights were slowly falling asleep. It was just another day’s ride then they would be back in Camelot.

Arthur was sitting on a rock looking into the darkness, he could hear the men’s breathing evening out.

His eyes strayed to his friend who was slightly outside the ring of knights, Merlin’s mob of hair was even messier than normal.

He could feel the fatigued clawing at him, wanting to drag him under, he couldn’t imagen how his men must be feeling. It was a battle worthy of the history books.

But at the moment, he just wanted them to rest. The patrols were getting more and more with the sorcerers attacks picking up. The people were scared but there wasn’t much more that they could do to keep everyone safe.

Arthur's eyes moved around the trees to see if he could see anything, the woods were silent except for insects making noise.

The animals of the wood were used to the man walking through the clearing, his magic crackling around him.

When he first started to live here, they would fall silent every time he would move, he was a danger to them, but he never attacks them, he doesn’t hurt them, and when they got injured the man would heal them if he found them.

So they continued with their songs of the evening, it didn’t bother them that his magic was more violent than normal.

Arthur could feel his hair standing up like a pissed of cat. He grabbed his sword. He kept his eyes trained on the woods but there was no movement and the wood was still alive with insects.

He knows that a good indication if something is going to happen, is through listing to the wood, but at the moment, nothing was giving him an indication for having a bad feeling.

The man’s green eyes flashed gold and smoke started to drift into the camp, he could see the prince was aware that there was something in the woods that was out for them.

In less than five minutes since the spell was uttered Arthur fell over, his mind felt like it was trapped. And there was simply no way out. Arthur tried to push himself up, but his body felt like it was made of lead.

He could only watch in horror as the man picked Merlin up. He felt himself getting nauseous when the man slapped on demetricuffs around his arms.

For a moment it felt like his mind was going to split in half, he wasn’t sure what he felt. On one hand, Merlin is a bloody sorcerer and on the other hand horror because his friend was taken and he had no idea where he was being taken.

The man and Merlin disappeared into the woods. Arthur tried again to get himself up, but it was impossible, his muscles were locked.

When the sun started to rise Arthur finally managed to get himself upright. He felt like hell, but he wanted to get Merlin back.

He had a long time to think of what it would mean the fact that Merlin is a sorcerer and how it made him feel. He was angry about it. But at the same time, Merlin never gave him any reason to believe that he is against Arthur.

Arthur bit the inside of his lip. They will just have to talk about it when they find Merlin.

“Wake up! This isn’t the time for sleep anymore” His voice echoed around the clearing, he could see that his men struggled to push themselves up. Their eyes were slightly clouded, but it looked like everyone was okay.

“What happened?” Gwaine’s voice was hoarse, and he stretched out trying to work the weird stiffness from his body.

Everyone’s eyes landed on Arthur and a singular question went through everyone's mind. Why didn’t he woke them up for there turn for guard looked out?

“Something happened last night, I am not properly sure what happened because one minute I was still fine and the next I couldn’t move. But that is not the problem, the problem is that the man that caused it took Merlin.” Arthur could feel the anger boiling under his skin. And the worst part is that he wasn’t sure what he was angrier about.

The fact that Merlin was kidnapped or the fact that he had magic.

Arthur was silent as he looked at the knights, he knows that most of them think of Merlin as a little brother to them.

“Why would they take Merlin?” Leon looked firmly at Arthur.

Arthur was silent for a while, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to blab Merlin’s secret to them, but at the same time, he knows they wouldn’t just up and abandon him.

“He has magic,” Arthur’s voice was low, none of the anger he had felt through the night was there, now he was just scared and hoped that he would be able to get to Merlin soon.

There was a silence around the camp and for a moment Arthur thought he had misread how the knights felt about Merlin.

“So what are we waiting for, let's go get him back.” Gwaine glared at the rest slightly. Sometimes they need a kicked under the arse to get it moving.

The rest of the knights threw a shout into the air. Soon everyone was packed.

They walked through the woods which were spent in silence as they tried to find a trace of the man’s footsteps.

Just after the mid sun had started to pass, they stopped to eat something. How bloody far had the man gone?

The man stared at the boy in front of him. This is supposed to be the all-powerful Emerys? He almost scoffed. He couldn’t help but think that Merlin was nothing more than a runt. But in either way, it doesn’t matter what he thought.

They were sure that he was the one destiny had a prophecy about all those years ago.

“Wake up! This isn’t the time to sleep.” The man’s voice was hard.

Merlin woke with a start. His eyes were wide as he tried to figure out where he was. A small whimper escaped his lip when he saw the man.

His heart rate skyrocketed and he tried to pull into himself.

The man just looked at Merlin, he could see the fear clearly in the blue eyes and for a moment he was filled with joy. He so loved the terror he could create.

“Now, now none of that.” The man’s voice was lower but the darkness in it almost made Merlin close his eyes.

When a thumb traced over Merlin’s cheek, he froze up, he could feel his magic fighting to get out, but something was stopping it.

Pain washed over him when he tried to use it. Merlin could feel himself freezing up complete. He could feel the panic trying to smother him and for a moment it felt like it was.

The man only laughed before he calmed himself.

“So you see there are a few people that are pissed that you are helping the prince, betraying your people so that he could sit on the throne one day.” The man was talking as if he was giving information about the weather.

Merlin just stared at the floor. He admits to himself that he hates himself about that. He never wanted to hurt another person, but there was sometimes no choice. He needs to keep Arthur safe at all cost.

“They want information, and you are going to give me that information.” The man continued.

Merlin knows that he wouldn’t talk no matter what. There was simply too much at stake.

When silence was the only answer, the man turned around pulling a tray closer.

“We can start with something easy. A nail, the longer you don’t give me what I want, I will pull a nail out. And we can move on from there, to break your fingers. And we will continue to go through your body and restart if necessary until I have the information I want.” The man informed Merlin.

The knights were just back on their horses when a scream echo to them. They froze for a second before they started to follow from where the sound had come from.

It took them another hour of walking and a constant screams that had to follow before they found a small house.

They could hear someone talking inside the house, but they couldn’t make out what the person was saying. With a nod from Arthur, they pulled their swords and crept closer.

A kicked against the door and they spilled into the house, the man turned to face the knights. He was covered in blood.

With a wave from his hand, he sends the knights backwards, but there wasn’t enough thought in the movement and Arthur manage to jump out of the way.

The man didn’t bother to say a word or look back but simply disappeared from a door.

Leon and Gwaine rushed to try and catch up but when they opened the door, no one was there.

A silent curse was all that left their lips before they turned to Merlin. They were ready to step in when they saw that Arthur was busy to take off the cuffs.

His eyes had softened when he saw Merlin.

Merlin was pale and broken sobs left his lips, both his hands where cradled to his chest. Leon stood closer with a medic kit Gaius had sent with them.

The flinch made everyone feel like shit, this was their friend, they should have helped him more. But they couldn’t.

Arthur crouched down next to Merlin, he could see that Merlin’s right-hand was broken and it looked like some on the left.

“Merlin, can we see your hand please?” Arthur’s voice was low as he looked at Merlin.

It was clear to see that Merlin didn’t want to offer his hands up.

Merlin pulled his hands closer to his chest. He was surprised that the knights were able to get so soon to them.

A sob left his chest and he curls into himself. Arthur gave a worried look to Leon.

“Merlin, can you please settle against Arthur?” Leon gave Arthur a stern look but at the same time was his voice low and soothing.

Merlin gave an unsure look to Arthur, before he was pulled against Arthur’s chest, a warm hand settled against Merlin’s head.

The warmth and comfort Arthur offered calmed Merlin down slightly.

“Can I see your hand, Merlin?” Leon kept his voice in a soothing tone, the same he would use when he needs to help frightened villagers.

A frantic head shakes from Merlin only happened. He couldn’t bring himself to allow anyone near his hands.

Arthur forced himself to take a deep breath. His hand ran gently through Merlin’s hair.

“Merls, give your hand to Leon, he needs to set it so that Gaius can look after it. If it sets wrong you won’t be able to use your hands.” Arthur kept his voice low, but he knows that Merlin would want to keep the use of his hand, even if it was limited.

Merlin gave Arthur a pleading look, everything in him screamed to keep his hands against his chest.

Leon just sighed. “Merlin please, we need to keep it cool and make a sling that you can keep your hands still.”

They could see the fear in Merlin’s eyes.

Arthur gently ran his hand through the sweaty hair of Merlin. He could feel the shiver running through Merlin’s body.

Merlin’s arm was stiff as he handed to Leon, his body was even tenser than a few minutes before. A pain shot through his arm when Leon started to exam the hand.

“St-stop, please.” The pleading broke Arthur’s heart.

Merlin wanted to pull his hand back but he didn’t want to hurt himself even more if he pulled away.

“Calm down, Merlin.” Arthur’s voice was soft but there was a firmness in his voice that made Merlin listen to him.

Merlin forced himself to breath as Leon wrapped a cooling salve on his arm, he knows that it will help with the swelling that was already happing.

But it didn’t stop the fact that it was painful.

When a bandage was put around Merlin whimpered, but it looked like he was starting to calm down.

With the sling finished, Merlin sat back and rest against Arthur. Now only the fingers that were broken need to be splinted.

When everything was finished, Arthur picked Merlin up. He easily helped Merlin onto his mare, before he slipped up behind him.

Merlin was heavy against Arthur. Arthur tried to over as much as support as he could as they rode to Camelot.

Arthur could feel Merlin’s body slowly going heavier as the fatigued dragged him down.

The ride was spent in silence as they rode on to Camelot.

“Merls, it is time that you wake up.” Arthur couldn’t help but ran his hand against Merlin’s cheek.

Arthur could feel the tension returning to Merlin’s body. With some manoeuvring, Arthur managed to get Merlin down from the horse.

The trip to Gaius chambers was long, and Arthur was kicked out as soon as Gaius had learned what had happened.

Dusk was just falling when there was a knock against Gaius door. The physician answered it, he only nodded at Arthur and allowed Arthur into the room.

Merlin was sitting upright, his hand in a bandage. He kept his eyes on the floor.

“I will leave you too it, don’t upset him, Arthur.” Gaius's voice was a warning.

Arthur only nodded and waited until the door closed behind them. Arthur crouched down in front of Merlin.

“How are you feeling?” Arthur’s voice was soft, he wanted to reach out and take the pain away.

“Alright.” Merlin’s voice was soft and childlike.

“I’m not mad Merls.” Arthur's voice was gentle.

Merlin's eyes widen slightly as he looked at Arthur.

“B-But…” Merlin trailed off.

“But nothing, you are the same dollop head that started work for me, if you wanted to hurt me, you had plenty of change, but you never did.” Arthur gently ran his hand through Merlin’s hair.

Merlin gave a broken laugh.

“We will figure this out Merls.” Arthur hopes the smile he gave Merlin was giving him some hope.

Merlin could only sag forward, Arthur easily caught him. Just holding him close to his chest.

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where-the-kissing-never-stops · 8 months

Text

The shifting Earth beneath us

Here is a piece that I created for the 15th Merlin anniversary!

It is a follow on from In my weariness I still hear you singing in my mind which was written many years ago now and could do with a rewrite 😅 and for those of you on ao3 here is The shifting Earth beneath us on ao3. Hope you enjoy 😊

Gwaine awoke with a start. This was the fourth time he had woken up. Gwaine was a fool to think that he would get any semblance of sleep after what he’d been through, waking many times dripping in sweat after hardly any sleep at all. He would be the last to admit it, but the night terrors were so bad this time, that his face was wet with tears. The light had finally faded so this time he had woken up to darkness, which made recovering from the awful dream harder.

He decided there wasn’t much point trying to sleep again just yet. The hunger was still present, so he wiped his face with his bedclothes and sat up slowly. He reached over and took a sip of the stale water left in the cup from earlier, then a slice of bread. He took small bites, remembering what Leon said about eating slowly. Gwaine was glad he did, because that one slice of bread filled his stomach. He couldn’t eat anything else, even if his stomach hurt and his body ached. His mind was still plagued with visions and memories of what he went through.

Gwaine swung his legs over the side of his bed, and he tried standing. It took a few attempts, but he managed it and he wobbled over to the window. He looked over the courtyard, which was lit up in the moonlight. How long had it been since he last saw that view? At least a week, probably longer. Gwaine vowed he would never take this sight for granted, as he never know when it would be the last time he saw it.

The clothes Gwaine was wearing were still damp from sweating from his dreams, so he took off his tunic and trousers gently, dropping them in a heap at the end of his bed. He took a clean outfit from his wardrobe and put them on. The effort it took was a lot, and he sat on the end of his bed afterwards. The blood pounded in his ears. Gwaine took deep breaths, holding his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his legs. In. Out. In. Out.

Gwaine’s mind flickered to a happier memory from the night before. Percival had kissed him. Gwaine wasn’t sure if it was a spur of the moment thing, more out of relief than anything more, but it had been something that helped Gwaine fall asleep, initially at least. Percival had been gentle and kind and respectful of what Gwaine had been through. It felt right. It was what Gwaine needed.

How Gwaine longed for some company again.

He leaned over at took another cracker from the plate. It was a little chewy, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he ate it, slowly again, with water. He took the last one. He already felt a little stronger. He waited a few minutes after eating to make sure he hadn’t eaten too much, then stood up, put his boots on and headed for the door. Gwaine felt more stable on his feet. Maybe this was a sign.

Gwaine didn’t really know where he was going, he just knew he didn’t want to be in his room when he could walk around. He didn’t want to stare at a ceiling unable to sleep. He didn’t want to be kept somewhere. Not again.

He enjoyed walking the corridors at night. The only light was from the torches hanging from the walls, and when he reached the outdoor parts of the citadel, the moon bathed him in its light. Gwaine stopped for a moment, tilted his head towards the moon and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. This was something he had really missed.

It was summer, and the air was still quite warm, despite there being no cloud cover. Gwaine decided he would head to the field near the keep, which overlooked the lower town. It would let him see the stars clearly, and let him be rid of the troubles of the last week for a few moments, at least.

As Gwaine rounded the corner, it revealed the square of grass, and a figure was leaning over the wall at the end. Gwaine froze, his heart raced. The irrational part of his brain was in overdrive, convinced it was one of Morgana’s men waiting for him, to finish him off, but then he shook his head, and steadied himself, taking deep breaths whilst he closed his eyes. He leaned back against the wall whilst he collected himself. He couldn’t let this stop him getting the freedom he so desperately craved.

Come on, let’s go, Gwaine thought to himself, and he headed outside.

In this low light, he couldn’t tell who it was leaning over the wall, but it was someone tall. Someone who had huge arms and short hair. Someone who heard Gwaine approach and turned to see who was joining him.

Percival.

Gwaine’s breath caught in his throat, but he kept moving towards Percival. The other knight kept facing him, and leaned back against the edge of the wall as Gwaine approached.

The two knights were face to face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you at this time. Thought you’d be out for the count.” Percival smiled at Gwaine.

“Turns out my mind won’t let my body rest,” Gwaine said, quietly, and he stood next to Percival, leaning over the wall and he looked out over the lower town. He heard Percival turn around to join him.

Gwaine watched a couple stumble out of The Rising Sun, hand in hand and they stumbled down the road together. A patrol of guards passed them, and the couple bowed a little comically, almost falling over. The guards laughed, and continued on their duty. Both groups disappeared from view.

“Can’t wait for another night back in there, when this is all over, and we have all recovered.” Gwaine knew alcohol really wouldn’t help him in his present state, but he was craving the happier times and the friendly atmosphere over the ale.

“Gwaine,” Percival began, still looking over Camelot, “You went through something awful. If ever you need someone to talk to-”

“Thank you, Percival,” Gwaine began, cutting the knight off, “but this is something I just need to work through. It will get easier.” Especially with a good ale, Gwaine added mentally.

“You are incredibly strong to even say that,” Percival spoke softly, sincerely. “If you change your mind…” Gwaine nodded at him. The mutual respect was so solid.

They stood in silence before Gwaine moved, sitting down, then lying on the grass. He interlinked his knuckles and lay them atop his stomach.

“Gwaine?” Percival frowned at him.

“The stars are so beautiful,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

Percival went and joined him, lying beside him. “Yes, they are.”

They lay for a few moments in quiet reverence for the moment. The only sound they heard were occasional footsteps in the castle passing nearby, or the wind blowing slightly through the trees.

Percival spoke up and pointed to the sky. “Can you see that shape in the sky? It looks a bit like a huge spoon.” Gwaine followed Percival’s finger. It took a few moments, but he saw what Percival was referring to, and nodded. “Take the two stars on the right side, they point up to a fainter star, can you see?” Again, a few moments after Percival spoke, Gwaine nodded again. “That star doesn’t move ever. The other stars move around it. It always points north,” and with that, Percival lowered his hand slightly, pointing north. “So if you’re ever lost on a clear night, this star will help you find your way.”

Gwaine turned to look at Percival. “How did you learn that?”

Percival lowered his hand and turned to return Gwaine’s gaze. “My mother taught me that when I was younger. She taught me a great deal.” His gaze became sad, and Gwaine noted something.

“You’ve never spoken of your mother before.”

Percival turned to look back at the sky. “It’s not the easiest thing to talk about.”

Gwaine waited in silence, not pushing Percival to continue.

“Cenred killed my family.”

Another pause. Percival continued.

“It wasn’t long before I met Lancelot. Cenred ransacked my village. He razed it to the ground and my family along with it.”

Gwaine unlaced his fingers. “I’m sorry.” He reached down and took Percival’s hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

“I was out hunting with a few other men in the village. When we returned, Cenred and his men were long gone. Our house was destroyed, with my parents and my sister were inside. It took so long to find them in the wreckage that was our home.” Percival sniffed softly. Gwaine didn’t look, giving the man some privacy, but he rubbed Percival’s knuckles with his thumb as the other knight wiped his face with his other hand.

Percival continued. “Our village lost everyone apart from those of us who went hunting. After the pyres burned out and we drank ourselves sick, we went our separate ways.” A brief pause, and Percival gently squeezed Gwaine’s hand. “I moved around, became the strong man that people wanted, and that’s how I met Lancelot. He saw me pulling a cart out of the mud and came to help, before he realised I didn’t need it.” He smiled softly at the memory. “With him, it was the first time I felt true happiness since my family died.”

Percival was pensive. He didn’t let go of Gwaine’s hand.

The pair lay there for a while, the warm summer night keeping any chill away.

Gwaine was curious. “Were the two of you ever…?”

Percival snorted softly. “No, it was never like that. Lancelot brought joy back into my life, and he meant the world to me.” Percival squeezed Gwaine’s hand again, and Gwaine squeezed back. “I miss him.”

“So do I.” Gwaine let go of Percival’s hand in favour of turning on his side to look at his friend. “Thank you for telling me this.”

Percival turned to look at him. Gwaine wished they had lay down closer together, but a small nod from the taller knight was all he received. They both returned to look at the stars. Gwaine noticed that the longer he looked for, the more stars seemed to appear. The spoon and the guiding star were beginning to disappear into a cluster of stars in the sky, hardly intelligible as a pattern anymore.

Gwaine heard Percival yawn. “You should go to bed. There will be a lot of rebuilding work to do tomorrow.”

Percival sighed. “I’d rather stay here.” He left the sentence hanging and Gwaine didn’t fill the space.

Silence enveloped them. Gwaine slowly shifted, moved across the grass to be lying side by side next to the taller knight. As much as he too needed sleep, he didn’t want this moment to end. He felt very peaceful and very safe, and that was something he craved to last as long as it could. He struck up another conversation.

“What happened after you left Camelot?”

He heard a deep exhale beside him. Gwaine couldn’t recall a time he had heard Percival speak so much. When it was the group of them, Percival was mostly quiet, only saying a few words mostly, even quiet by the campfire. This was a conversation Gwaine would not take for granted. Percival cleared his throat before he began his tale.

“We found Elyan in the woods, which was a help as Arthur was slowing us down. Merlin heard the horses coming after us and we ran. We were thrown off our feet by magic, I can only guess it was Morgana. When I came round, the others were gone. I thought they had been captured, and knew there was nothing I could do. I had failed to protect my King.” Percival puffed out his cheeks.

“When I woke up, it was dark and everyone else had gone. I thought Arthur and Merlin were still with Elyan, but clearly they weren’t, so I went through the forest alone. It wasn’t great, I came across some bandits but steered clear, my head was mashed after a day alone and only my memories for company.” He exhaled. Gwaine waited. “It was dark before I came across someone. It was Rosie and her little girl. I couldn’t remember the child’s name but I rescued her from the dorocha and ever since I’ve seen Rosie out and about and she would always talk to me. She is lovely.”

“I remember her. I think her daughter’s name is Lily,” Gwaine offered.

“Matches her mother’s,” Percival said, a smile on his lips. He continued, “She brought me back to the camp where I saw Leon. The warmth it filled me with, Gwaine, I can’t express it. Seeing someone I knew so well filled me with so much relief. I told him what had happened so far, and Leon showed me their makeshift camp. It felt strangely familiar, living in such close quarters. It reminded me of home, of my family.” A pause, and Gwaine made shapes with the stars as he waited for Percival to finish. Gwaine wouldn’t rush his friend.

“We were planning on a way to find the King, but with so few soldiers and weapons we felt useless. It was a few days on when Leon woke me, before sunrise. He’d seen Merlin, and asked for us to all meet him in a clearing just down a small channel from the camp. And we did.” Percival turned towards Gwaine and their eyes met. “There was a sword in the stone, Gwaine. Did you ever hear about the legend?” Gwaine shook his head. “It was just as you would expect. You hear about a sword lodged in a stone, no one knows how it got there, no one can pull it out, and then Arthur stepped up. He tried, you could see him shaking with effort. Merlin spoke to him in a way I have never heard him speak. He spoke to Arthur like he knew every part of him, and he spoke to him as if the rest of us weren’t there. It felt like I was watching a moment that should have been in private.” Percival cleared his throat and looked away.

Gwaine processed what Percival told him. Merlin must have been with Arthur this whole time.

“And Arthur just, pulled the sword out of the stone.”

Gwaine made a surprised sound and looked at Percival.

“Gwaine, I wish you were there to see it. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” Gwaine could hear the emotion in the other knight’s voice. “Arthur is the true King of Camelot and I would ride into the mouth of Hell for him.”

In the distance, the sky was lightening with the approaching dawn, and Percival’s face was slightly silhouetted against the dark blue. Gwaine reached over to put a finger underneath Percival’s chin. He turned Percival’s face towards his and leaned in. “So would I.” Gwaine kissed Percival gently. He tasted the tears Percival shed for his family. He tasted the devotion for their King. He tasted the raw emotion and belief that finally, everything was okay again. They broke apart. Gwaine wiped the tear that had spilled onto Percival’s cheek.

“And all the while, you’ve been suffering here.”

Gwaine laughed softly and brushed his thumb over Percival’s cheek. “Ah, don’t think about that. You’ve painted quite a picture of what I’ve missed, I almost forgot I wasn’t there.” He smiled at Percival. He dropped his hand and again reached for Percival’s, hoping the urgency wasn’t apparent in his grasp. “It sounds almost magical.”

“It may well have been. After all, Arthur pulled a sword from solid rock. There must be something to do with magic involved.”

“It proves he is our King. Maybe it’s in his blood, or something.”

Percival sat up with a start and looked down at Gwaine. “You think Arthur has magic?”

Gwaine sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows before sating, “Well, he could have, but he clearly doesn’t know about it.”

The pair laughed together. It felt good, like the world was returning to rights.

“And after that, we made a plan to enter Camelot and fight Morgana and Helios, which clearly worked, and we found you.” Percival finished his story in a less than dramatic style, which Gwaine was grateful for.

The sun was rising and he was tired. The first light of the sun hit the castle walls and the golden rays made everything look even more majestic, including Percival. Gwaine leaned forward, rested on his knees and cupped Percival’s face in his hands. “Thank you for saving me.” He leaned down and kissed Percival more deeply than before, and Percival matched it. He turned around and pulled Gwaine closer, his hands shaping and moulding Gwaine’s body into his. Gwaine’s legs straddled Percival as they drank each other in.

The distant sound of voices pulled them apart, but Gwaine rested his forehead against Percival’s.

“I would ride into the mouth of Hell for you, too,” Gwaine spoke into Percival’s mouth.

“And I you,” Percival whispered in response.

They stayed there for a few moments before Gwaine let go and stood up, a little unsteady as the lack of food and lack of sleep caught up with him. Percival did the same, and placed a hand on Gwaine’s back to steady him.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Gwaine looked at Percival. In the glowing golden light, he looked radiant. Not even a yawn could mar the beauty of Percival.

“Come to bed with me?”

Percival looked down, a knowing smile on his expression and shook his head.

“For sleeping only, I need it as much as you do,” Gwaine started, “I might sleep better when I know someone is keeping me safe.” Gwaine cocked his head. “And not just anyone.” He smiled.

Percival quickly lost whatever argument he was going to give Gwaine, and nodded.

“I’m so glad to have you, Gwaine.”

Gwaine’s breath caught in his throat. This is what he had wanted for so long, someone wanting him, someone being happy to know him. Tears started to well up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. In return, he offered Percival a smile and squeezed his hand.

“Let’s get some sleep.”

#perwaine #sir gwaine #sir percival #gwaine #merlin #bbc merlin #hurt/comfort #my works #the sword in the stone #the sword in the stone part 2 #percival's backstory #merlin 15th anniversary #these knights honestly #i just want them to be happy together #op #merlin 15 #pergwaine

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

7 times Merlin shows off his skills as a Physician,

+1 time The Knights have to work together to stitch Merlin up.

TW: Lots of blood and graphic description of injury/sickness.

The patrol had been going perfectly fine, even the small skirmish with a group of bandits was over and done with pretty quickly.

It was when the knights were taking stock of things after the fight that Elyan found Gwaine struggling to stand, leaning his weight against a tree and owlishly blinking his eyes with a look of deep concentration on his face.

Elyan put a soft hand on his back, quietly saying Gwaine’s name. The other knight whips his head up quickly to look at him, and the movement almost toppled him, but Elyan catches him with a hand on each shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Gwaine stares at him with squinted eyes, slurring his words as he slowly says:

“Elyan, mate, I don’t mean to uh... freak you out, but... there’s like... a whole bunch of you.”

It’s then that Elyan finally notices the slow trickle of blood from behind Gwaine’s ear, dribbling down his neck, he keeps hold of Gwaine’s shoulder as he looks behind him:

“Merlin! Gwaine hit his head!”

Elyan looks back around when he hears the knight gasp, to see him looking at him with wide eyes:

“Fuck, did I?? That’s not good, someone should.... should call Merlin.”

Elyan just bites his lip to stop himself from laughing, and nods sympathetically, as if agreeing with him. Gwaine slumps back against the tree and Elyan helps him sit down as Arthur and Merlin finally rush over.

Elyan moves out of the way, and Merlin crouches in front of the injured knight, setting his medical bag next to him as he takes Gwaine’s face in soft hands.

Gwaine gives him a bleary grin as Merlin checks his pupils and huffs:

“You... are very pretty.”

Merlin would have been happy to ignore Gwaine’s nonsense, but flushes slightly when he hears Elyan and Arthur snort behind him. He scowls at them briefly over his shoulder before beginning to clean the wound behind Gwaine’s ear, and checking for any further injury. The other knights gather around, having checked over the bandits for anything of interest, and Percival is the first to speak:

“He’ll be fine, won’t he, Merlin?”

Before Merlin can answer, Gwaine lifts a clumsy hand to pat the physician’s head with a shit-eating grin on his face:

“You know who is fine? This guy, very very fine.”

Merlin chuckles as he blushes, taking Gwaine’s hand and putting it back in the knight’s lap. The others laugh behind him but Merlin ignores them as he works, keeping his gaze on the wound, but speaking to Gwaine:

“Thank you Gwaine, but why don’t you keep your hands to yourself for a few hours?”

Gwaine huffs and pouts, looking very much like a child, but nods when Merlin smiles at him. Merlin finishes up, cleaning his hands as he stands, looking to the knights behind him:

“He’s got a pretty big concussion so he can’t fall asleep for the next twelve hours or so. He might feel nauseous at some point, and his balance will be way off, so I’ll ride with him. We need to keep getting water in him, but other than that, there’s not much we can do until it clears up. He’ll have a banging headache for a few days.”

Arthur nods, trusting Merlin’s judgement and gesturing Leon and Percival forward to help the knight up. Thankfully, they were on the tail end of their patrol and can just ride straight back to the city, but everyone takes great amusement in Gwaine’s slurred and nonsensical flirting with Merlin. That is, until the concussed knight turns his attention to Percival, and devotes his shoddy pick-up lines to the flushed giant, at which point it goes from mildly amusing, to absolutely hilarious.

Everyone worries when Leon doesn’t show up to training.

Gwaine being an hour late? Not a worry. Leon not being early? Definitely a worry.

But when Lancelot sprints back to the training field after being sent to check on him, calling Merlin’s name desperately, everyone’s worry gets vastly amplified.

Merlin runs up to meet him halfway across the field, brow furrowed in worry. Lance rests his hands on his knees for a moment, struggling to speak through his quick breathing:

“He’s... there’s something wrong with him, I... I think he’s sick.”

Merlin immediately starts a quick paced journey back up to the castle, sprinting even quicker than Lancelot in his panic; Arthur and the others follow behind him, having not heard the conversation but turning understandably panicked at Merlin’s reaction.

When they finally catch up to him, he’s sat on the side of Leon’s bed, checking his breathing and pulse with a frown on his face. The knight is practically catatonic, eyes shut tightly, murmuring and twitching in his sleep, drenched in sweat and shivering.

Merlin looks back with a gulp to Arthur, stood by the door with a worried expression:

“I need you to go to Gaius’ chambers and pick up my bag. It’s fully stocked, I re-did it last night and it should have everything I need, but I can’t leave him.”

Arthur’s eyes widen at Merlin’s last words, obviously realising how sick Leon is, but Merlin’s harsh-

“NOW, Arthur!”

-breaks him out of his stupor, and he sprints away in the direction of the Physician’s chambers. The other knights, a breathless Lancelot having finally joined them, go to crowd into the room, but Merlin looks up at them, sternly saying:

“No, everyone out, it’s probably contagious, and with Gaius in the lower-town I do not have enough hands to treat all of you at once. Out.”

They all reluctantly file out of the room, but leave the door open, and Merlin rolls his eyes fondly as they all stand in the hallway, staring at their sick friend with furrowed brows and bitten lips.

Leon mumbles something and shifts in his sleep. Merlin looks back down at him, wiping the sweat slicked hair away from his forehead and rubbing a soft hand up and down his arm. The knight blearily opens his eyes, breaths shallow and rasping as his hand twitches towards Merlin. The younger man gives him a soft smile, hiding his worry as he takes Leon’s hand in his own. Leon relaxes slightly at that, blinking at him confusedly as he mutters:

“Mer...lin? I don’t... don’t feel... great.”

Merlin nods, stroking the back of Leon’s hand as he softly replies:

“I know, Leon, I’ve got you. You’ll be fine in no time, alright? Just go back to sleep.”

Leon nods slightly, and closes his eyes again, trusting Merlin’s words. His hand goes limp in Merlin’s once again and the physician swallows worriedly.

Arthur finally runs back in with Merlin’s bag clutched tightly in his hands. He’s breathing deeply, and at Merlin’s gesture, gently chucks the bag to him from the middle of the room, retreating again to stand by the door.

Merlin turns his attention back to Leon, rummaging through his bag, as Arthur asks, the concern clear in his voice:

“What else do you need, Merlin?”

Merlin doesn’t looks up at him as he pulls various supplies out form his bag, checking Leon’s breathing periodically:

“I need a few changes of clothes, a patient pallet brought up from Gaius’ chambers, a constant supply of cold water and clean cloths, and a spare chamber-pot; he’s almost certainly going to throw up at some point.”

Arthur nods, going out to speak to the knights. He sends Percival and Gwaine to the physician’s chambers to bring back some of Merlin’s clothes and a pallet, sends Mordred to talk to the steward about having a servant outside Leon’s chambers constantly so Merlin could have whatever he needed, whenever he needed it, and sends Elyan to rummage through the storage rooms for a spare chamber-pot.

He walks slowly back into the room, but still keeps his distance, fidgeting harshly with his hands as he gulps, quietly, but worriedly asking:

“Will he be alright??”

Merlin, still not looking up from Leon and his bag, replies softly:

“He should be ok, but I need to keep an eye on him. I’ll be sleeping in here until he’s better, and I won’t be joining you at all until he’s at least up and walking around. Gaius should be back day after tomorrow, so try not to get injured until then, otherwise go to Gwen, she’s got a pretty good understanding of basic treatment. Shut the door behind you.”

Arthur nods mutely, understanding Merlin’s dismissal, and walking from the room silently. He turns back, quietly saying:

“They’ll be a servant out here to fetch anything you need. Thank you, Merlin.”

Merlin nods distractedly, focused on mixing some sort of paste in a bowl as Arthur sighs, and shuts the door behind him.

It was about two weeks before Merlin moved out of Leon’s chambers, but it was at least a month before he stopped periodically, almost subconsciously, reaching for the knight’s wrist to check his pulse. There had been a few scares, when his pulse was so weak that Merlin could barely feel it; he lost a lot of sleep over those first two weeks, too afraid to close his eyes in case Leon stopped breathing, and too concerned about his friend to let another physician take over.

Leon found it endearing, but didn’t mention it when he noticed Merlin coincidentally bumping into him multiple times a day and finding excuses to touch his fingers to his wrist or neck, even briefly.

He was fine in the end, thanks to Merlin’s thorough treatment, but it was a scary couple of weeks, when having to think about burying Leon was a genuine worry.

(The knight also demanded that Merlin be given a week off from his manservant duties when he was feeling better, which Arthur eagerly agreed to. Though he did spend almost the entire time trailing Leon round like a lost puppy, under the guise of “making sure he didn’t overdo it”.)

Since he had arrived back in Camelot, Elyan had been spending more and more time in the family’s Blacksmith’s.

He felt the need to fill the void that his father had left in the old forge, and he enjoyed returning to his roots; there was something therapeutic about being surrounded by fire and hot metal once again.

But his years away from it all made him a little clumsy, having lost a little of the instinctual caution he had when he was a teenager. Which is what led him to be sat on a bench in the Physician’s chambers, watching with fond amusement as Merlin fretted and gathered various dressings and bandages.

The burn on Elyan’s arm was serious enough to need more than just cold water, but it was definitely not serious enough to warrant such worry from the Warlock.

He finally came to stand between Elyan’s legs, checking over the burn with soft hands after placing everything he had gathered on the table next to him.

Merlin looked up at the knight, and Elyan had to stop himself frowning at the man’s worry, and was that... fear?

He finally cleared his throat, glancing away briefly before saying:

“I uh... I could lessen the pain a little with magic, if you’re ok with that. But I have more than enough supplies to treat it normally if you don’t want me to, it’s really no-”

Elyan cuts him off with a gentle hand on the shoulder and a soft smile:

“It’s fine, Merlin. We trust you, remember? If you think your magic can help, then by all means, go ahead. I trust you.”

Merlin lets out a breath, relaxing as he nods and returns Elyan’s smile with a weak one of his own. He had only told the truth about his magic a few weeks ago, and things were still a little... raw. After what happened to his father, Merlin was expecting Elyan to be one of the least accepting of the sorcery, and he wasn’t wrong at first, but after a few harsh words from Gwen about all the times Merlin had saved her, and about how hard Merlin had tried to save Tom, Elyan did a complete switch, and became one of The Warlock’s most ardent defenders.

Elyan marvelled at the warmth spreading down his arm as Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and he muttered a few incantations. The burn was still there, but it seemed cleaner, and definitely hurt less. Merlin followed up his magic with some burn salve and carefully wrapped bandages, looking up at Elyan with relief in his eyes at the knight’s fond, trusting smile.

He continued his bustling around the chambers under Elyan’s amused watch, returning with a few small tinctures:

“Take one of these a day, starting this evening; it’ll help with the pain overnight. Come back the day after tomorrow and I’ll re-bandage it. Let me know if... uh, you want me to... you know-”

He wiggles his fingers vaguely, and Elyan raises an amused eyebrow at him, slowly saying:

“Re-do the magic?”

Merlin bites his lip and nods slightly. Elyan gives him a wide grin, hopping off the bench and ruffling Merlin’s hair:

“Will do, Merls. Thank you.”

With that, the knight walks cheerfully out of the room, shutting the door behind him and leaving a very happy, slightly less worried Warlock/Physician/Servant behind

A particularly impressive move from Lancelot and a misstep from Arthur is what leads to The King sat on the grass with a belt between his teeth and Merlin stood behind him, one hand reached around and flat on his chest, the other on his shoulder-blade.

Lancelot is understandably freaking out, and Arthur is half focussed on how impressed he is, and half focussed on the stabbing pain in his shoulder.

Merlin moves his hand slightly and Arthur groans around the belt, biting down as the servant mutters an apology:

“Sorry. This is gonna hurt like a bitch but I need you to stay as still as possible, ok?-”

Arthur nods slightly, mumbling something that sounds like “just get on with it”, but it’s hard to understand with a mouth stuffed with leather:

“-Alright, on three, ok? One, TWO-”

On two, Merlin pushes Arthur’s arm back into it’s socket with a sickening pop, and The King groans even louder, squeezing his eyes shut and biting down on the belt in his pain. The knights all wince in sympathy, Leon putting a soft hand on Arthur’s other shoulder as the man breathes deeply.

After a few moments, Merlin straightens the arm, moving it round in a circle to make sure everything is where it’s meant to be, before grabbing the sling he’d had Percival hold, and wrapping Arthur’s arm carefully, letting it hang against his chest.

Arthur finally spits the belt out, grimacing as he flexes his shoulder slightly. Merlin puts a hand back on his shoulder, eyes glowing gold as he mutters a spell. The blond lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding at the blissful numbness spreading from his shoulder, down his arm and across his back, before looking up at an almost hysterical Lancelot.

Arthur chuckles at Lance’s face, shaking his head slightly as he says:

“Very impressive, Lancelot, though if you could save that for enemies, that would be great.”

Lancelot finally bursts, not seeming to have heard Arthur’s praise:

“Ar- Your Majesty I am so sorry, I really didn’t mean to-”

Arthur waves his free hand in dismissal, taking Mordred’s offered hand and standing up, still with an impressed smile on his face:

“Don’t be stupid Lance, like I said, it was very impressive, and with Merlin around there’s no harm done.-”

Merlin grins and blushes at the subtle compliment.

“-Besides, I dole out at least one injury a month, it’s about time one of you got me back. Well done Lance, you beat everyone else.”

He says it with a grin, and Lancelot finally relaxes slightly, raking a hand through his hair as he gives the amused King a weak smile, much to the other knights’ amusement. Merlin steps back in front of Arthur adjusting the sling and speaking forcefully:

“No training at all for a week, no full contact sparring or skirmishes with bandits for two. And I want to check it again before you start.”

Arthur’s face falls indignantly and he whines:

“Oh come on, it can’t be that bad! It doesn’t even hurt that much.”

Merlin scowls:

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt because I numbed it with magic, prat.”

Arthur looks like he wants to argue, but Merlin just raises an eyebrow (very reminiscent of Gaius), the meaning of “I dare you to argue with me right now” VERY clear.

Arthur backs down, muttering a petulant “fine” under his breath, much to the knights’ amusement.

To say that Mordred was panicking would be a vast understatement.

But to be fair, everyone was panicking.

Everyone thought that the fight had gone rather well, finally surviving a battle with mercenaries injury free, that was until Mordred had tried to stand up, only to find that he couldn’t breath, and his chest hurt.

Tears leaked from his eyes as he lay on the ground, squeezing Arthur’s hand so tightly The King was sure it would bruise; but he didn’t care about that, all he cared about was running his free hand over the younger man’s armour, desperately trying to figure out what was wrong.

Mordred took in shallow, gasping breaths, his vision swimming as the stabbing pain in his chest spiked with every movement. He had been calling out for Emrys in his head, unable to speak, and finally the panicked man burst through the trees, pushing through the crowd of knights and dropping to his knees at Mordred’s side.

He’d wondered off an hour or so ago to collect some herbs for Gaius, and had missed the whole fight, though he’d begun his sprint back when Mordred had called out for him at the start of the battle, pushing himself even faster when it became apparent that the younger man was badly injured.

Arthur immediately looks up at him, but doesn’t let go of Mordred’s hand as he speaks quickly, only just managing to keep the shaking out of his voice:

“He can’t breath properly, I think he got kicked in the chest but there’s no blood or anything, I don’t know what’s wrong with him Merlin, he can’t breath.”

Merlin curses under his breath, wiping Mordred’s hair away from his face as he rushes to say:

“Help me get his armour off, someone grab me my smallest knife and a roll of bandages, now.”

With that, Percival rushes to the dropped medical bag, riffling through it for what Merlin had asked for as Gwaine and Elyan rush to remove Mordred’s armour, and Leon and Lancelot move to stand guard, watching for any more attackers.

Mordred whimpers every time he’s jostled, but Merlin and Arthur hush him, squeezing his hand and stroking his hair. With the focused look on Merlin’s face, Arthur can tell that he’s talking to the Druid through their mental link, so doesn’t say anything, knowing that it’s probably the only thing stopping Mordred from panicking even more.

The armour finally comes off, and Merlin quickly puts his ear to Mordred’s chest, cursing to himself once more as he holds his hand out wordlessly for the knife.

Percival puts it in his hand without hesitation, and Merlin quickly cuts Mordred’s tunic away before hovering the sharp point over the side of his chest, looking up to Elyan and Gwaine still kneeled at his side and saying:

“Hold him down, he can NOT move when I do this.”

They don’t ask what “this” is, trusting that he knows what he’s doing as Gwaine moves to straddle Mordred’s thighs and hold his hips down, and Elyan pushes his shoulders into the floor. Arthur leans over to take both of Mordred’s hands tightly in his own, and without any more hesitation, Merlin pushes the blade down into Mordred’s chest with a soft apology.

Mordred whimpers even more, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, and letting out a pained yelp when Merlin twists the knife slightly. With the movement, there’s a hiss of air, and Mordred takes a deep, gasping breath.

Merlin relaxes slightly, and nods at the others to let go. Gwaine and Elyan move back, but Arthur stays, holding Mordred’s hands and trying to cover the disgust on his face as Merlin holds the knife in place.

Mordred finally opens his eyes, and Merlin gives him a reassuring smile before looking to Elyan:

“Elyan, you’ve got the steadiest hands, I need you to hold this-”

He nods down at the knife, and Elyan’s eyes widen in panic before he gulps and nods his head, carefully taking the knife from Merlin’s hands, and holding it place. Merlin moves to where Elyan had been sat, above Mordred’s head, and he leans down, moving his ear from one side of the Druid’s chest to the other, careful to avoid Elyan’s hands holding the knife.

He listens to each side for about ten seconds each time, moving between them a few times, before finally sitting up and nodding to himself in satisfaction. He grabs the roll from Percival’s shaking hands, once again wiping the hair from Mordred’s forehead and giving him a reassuring smile, before looking back up at Elyan:

“Pull it out when I say go, ok? Straight out, don’t twist it, don’t bend your wrist, just straight out.-”

Elyan nods firmly and at Merlin’s-

“-Go!”

-he pulls the knife out, quickly getting out of the way as Merlin presses one hand over the wound, eyes glowing gold as he mutters a spell. Mordred lets out a breath as he’s relieved form the pain slightly, closing his eyes briefly before Merlin says:

“No, come on Mordred, I need you to stay awake, I need to know that you’re ok whilst I do this alright? You can sleep later, I promise.”

Mordred nods slightly as he opens his still teary eyes, and Arthur leans closer, smiling at him and asking some unimportant question about what he wants for his birthday coming up. Merlin gives the King a grateful smile as he brings his hand away from the bloody wound, glad to see that the spell had worked and the bleeding had slowed considerably.

With the help of Gwaine and Elyan, Merlin gets Mordred into a sitting position, wrapping the bandages tightly around his chest, periodically checking his pulse and breathing with his hand.

He ties it off, letting a breath of relief escape him as he collapses back onto the floor. Mordred is slumped against Arthur, groaning as he desperately tries to keep his eyes open, but Merlin presses a hand to his forehead, eyes once again glowing gold as he mutters:

“Sleep.”

The younger man passes out pretty much immediately, and Arthur supports his weight, giving Merlin a concerned, questioning look. The Warlock meets his gaze, giving him a weak smile and nod:

“Collapsed lung, had to release the pressure. He’ll be fine, but infection is a concern so I need to get him back to Camelot as soon as possible.”

Arthur nods, and with a gesture from him, Leon and Lancelot lean down to pick the younger man up, carefully depositing him on the front of Arthur’s horse, to be taken back to the castle.

Merlin looks around to the others, noticing the shaking that had slowly started in Elyan’s hands as he stares down at the blood coating his fingers. Merlin touches a soft hand to his shoulder, and Elyan gasps, looking up at him quickly with wide eyes. Merlin gives him a smile, hovering his hand over Elyan’s as he murmurs a spell.

The knight looks down again to see his hands completely clean, and he flexes his fingers, before giving Merlin a tight smile, and muttering a quiet thank you.

Everyone mounts their horses, quickly urging them to follow Arthur back to Camelot.

Lancelot was trying his best not to wince, but his wrist really did hurt.

They’d just made camp; Merlin, Lancelot, and Arthur were on their way back from visiting Hunith in Ealdor for a few days.

Originally it was meant to just be Merlin and Lance, but Arthur insisted that he come along for extra protection. All three of them knew it was just an excuse (Merlin was the most powerful Warlock in existence after all) but no one mentioned it. It had taken months and a lot of sleepless nights for Arthur to finally get the magic ban repeal through, and Lance and Merlin knew he needed a few days off, with no worries or responsibilities or titles or stupid crowns or councillors or meetings, so they were happy to have him tag along.

The knight must have sprained it when fixing the barn roof, but was reluctant to say anything; he didn’t want to put a dampener on the mood, and Hunith had been so accommodating, he didn’t want to be a bother. But when Merlin noticed him struggling to remove his saddle-bag with one hand, he raised an eyebrow, and held his hand out wordlessly.

Lancelot went to fake innocence, but Merlin just raised his eyebrow further and crooked his fingers. The knight sighed, putting his wrist in Merlin’s hand with nothing but a sheepish look. The Court Sorcerer ran his fingers over the soft skin there, noting the bruise with a disapproving tut before he mutters a spell.

His eyes flash gold, and Lance flexes his wrist as both the pain and bruise recede. He nods with a smile:

“You’re getting better at that.”

Merlin just huffs and rolls his eyes:

“Yes, well, you knights do insist on giving me plenty of opportunities to practice.-”

Lancelot huffs out a brief laugh, before he quietly apologises. Merlin just shakes his head with a smile:

“-It’ll still be tender for a few days, so don’t use it too much, Physician’s orders.”

Lancelot smirks slightly, and Merlin knows he isn’t going to like what he says:

“Of course, anything you say My Lord.”

Merlin scowls and squeezes the knight’s wrist slightly, muttering-

“I will turn you into a fucking toad.”

-much to Lancelot’s amusement.

Arthur finally reappears from collecting firewood, and raises an eyebrow at Merlin’s scowl and Lancelot’s laughter:

“What are you two up to, or do I not want to know?”

Merlin huffs and stomps off to collect his saddle-bag, and Lancelot clears his throat, still chuckling as he replies:

“Hmm. It would appear that Lord Merlin Emrys Ambrosius, Court Sorcerer of Camelot, Protector of the Once and Future King, Last of the Dragon-Lords, is not all that fond of his fancy new title.”

Arthur laughs, and Lancelot forgets his now long-gone pain in favour of joining in.

This was one of the most serious injuries any of them had seen in a very long time.

Leon had been called in the tent to help Merlin, having been the least tired with the steadiest hands at the time.

Arthur was pacing angrily, Mordred was doing his best to meditate, Lancelot held one of Gwaine’s hands in his own, and Elyan had an arm around his shoulders, as Gwaine himself bounced his foot up and down. At the beginning, he’d tried to hold his tears in, but as the image of a bloody and dying Percival slowly cemented itself in his mind, he gave up, and let them flow.

They’d been in there for hours, and whilst the rest of the knights tried to have faith, the angry curse that Merlin had let out almost two hours ago, closely followed by hurried movements and Leon shakily asking what he needed to do, had not helped their anxieties.

Inside the tent, they were just finishing up. There was blood everywhere, metres worth of soaked bandages strewn around the tent, along with most of Merlin’s medical bag, which had been upturned and spread around for quick access.

Leon was exhausted, having spent hours monitoring Percival’s breathing and pulse with no break, passing Merlin whatever he asked for, and occasionally having to hold bits of his friend together whilst Merlin worked his magic (both literally, and metaphorically). But however tired Leon was, Merlin was a hundred times worse.

He’d drained most of his energy during the fight, and had to dig incredibly deep to pull out enough magic to keep Percival alive whilst he stitched him back together. The blade he’d been stabbed with was imbued with dark magic, and shards had splintered inside the wound. Luckily, no organs had been punctured, but plenty of blood vessels had been nicked, and nothing could be left inside or it would cause likely deadly problems later down the line.

That just meant almost everything had to be done by hand; magic was useful in keeping the knight asleep, and dulling the pain as much as he could, but as far as the actual healing went, Merlin had to focus on keeping his mind sharp and his hands steady.

His face had remained blank, and his voice deadpan through the whole process, and around half a candle-mark in, Leon asked in a whisper:

“How are you so calm? I... I’m trying my best but I don’t know how you’re doing this.”

Merlin doesn’t look up at him as he quietly replies:

“If I panic, he dies. I have to trust that I know what I’m doing, and just get on with it. You��re doing fine, Leon. It isn’t... it isn’t Percival, it’s just another knight-”

Merlin’s voice lowers, whispering his last words to himself:

“-just another patient.”

Leon nods, taking another of many deep breaths, focusing on keeping his hands steady and counting Perci- the patient’s breaths.

It was maybe an hour later, that Leon widened his eyes, looking up at Merlin in a panic; before he can say anything, Merlin feels it as well, cursing loudly to himself and dredging up his last reserves of magic to hold his tools in place (in Percival’s abdomen), moving up hurriedly to be by his chest, where he quickly starts CPR.

Leon takes a deep breath, gulping before says:

“Merlin, what do I... what do I do??”

Merlin doesn’t say anything, focusing on keeping rhythm, and Leon can hear him counting under his breath; he gets to twenty-seven when the knight starts breathing on his own again, and Merlin gives himself enough time to take a fortifying breath before going back to the wound and carrying on with what he’d been doing, as if nothing had just happened.

Another hour later, Merlin was putting the last stitches in, satisfied with his work, but by no means... hopeful.

And half a candle mark after that, the knight had been thoroughly cleaned and bandaged, tightly.

Leon (shakily) and Merlin (blankly) cleaned all of the Physician’s tools, and packed away all the detritus; they needed to keep Percival’s environment as clean as possible. He’d tried to force himself to do more, but Merlin’s energy had almost completely abandoned him, and Leon had convinced him to give it a rest; the longer he tried to force it, the longer it would be before his magic built up enough to be useful again.

Merlin finally exited the tent, drenched in blood, leaving Leon to keep an eye on Percival whilst he went to update the others.

When he set foot on the leaves, everyone’s head whipped up. Arthur had given up his pacing, and Mordred had abandoned his meditating, but Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot were all still huddled together; though everyone jumped up quickly when they set eyes on Merlin.

They looked at him expectantly, desperately, and Merlin met Arthur’s gaze first:

“You need to go sit with him, Arthur-”

He’s interrupted by a pained cry from Gwaine, and Arthur’s grief-stricken face. A request for the King to go sit with an injured man... that could only mean one thing in their minds. Merlin held his hands (still bloody) up placatingly:

“-he stopped breathing once, but we got him going again. If he makes it cleanly through the night then his chances shoot up, but if he gets an infection before morning then... there won’t be much I can do. Someone needs to go in with Arthur to take over from Leon, he’s exhausted-”

Mordred takes a step forward, a concerned look on his face as he softly says:

“You’re tired too, Merlin, you should sleep.”

Arthur nods, but Merlin waves him off, muttering:

“I’m fine.”

Everyone notices the bleariness of his eyes, and the shaking that had just begun in his hands, but they don’t say anything. They had been expecting this, it happens every time there’s a serious, life threatening injury. Merlin can compartmentalise for as long as needs to, but shock usually hits an hour or so later, when everything catches up to him. With how serious this injury had been, with how exhausted Merlin is, and how covered in blood he is, they aren’t surprised that it’s hitting a little sooner than normal.

Arthur nods at Elyan, and the knight takes that as his cue to go into the tent. Leon walks out a moment later, almost as covered in blood as Merlin, and breathing deeply, tears in his eyes as he heavily sits down. Lancelot wraps him in a blanket cleaning his hands wordlessly with a wet cloth before pushing him to the floor and telling him to get some sleep. Leon closes his eyes and is gently snoring within seconds; Lancelot goes back to Gwaine, forcing the man to look away from the still fairly bloody Leon as he whispers reassurances to him.

As this is happening, Arthur walks slowly to Merlin, putting a soft hand on his shoulder and gently saying:

“What do you need, Merlin? Right now, what do you need?”

Merlin’s eyes had been getting wider and wider as he stared down at his hands, covered in blood and now shaking violently. He looks up in shock at Arthur’s touch, seeming to have forgotten that he wasn’t alone:

“I.. uh, I need two people with Percival at all times, monitoring his breathing, pulse, and temperature. I need... need his pupils checked every ten minutes or so, and I need someone to count how many rolls of bandages I’ve got left so I can figure out how often I can afford to change them and.... and I-”

He looks back down to his hands, gulping, and Arthur can tell that Merlin is really not with it as he continues:

“-I need to go... go and wash my hands.... excuse me.”

With that, he stumbles off in the direction of the stream they had been taking water from. Arthur gestures at Mordred to follow the Warlock, before exchanging short nods with Lancelot, and going into the tent.

Mordred grabs a cloth and a spare tunic, before following Merlin’s trail. When he catches up to him, the older man is knelt at the side of the stream, scrubbing his hands viciously in the water. Mordred sits slowly besides him, gulping before quietly saying:

“Emrys? Merlin?”

Merlin hums in acknowledgment, but doesn’t look up, and Mordred huffs quietly, leaning over to take Merlin’s hands with a quiet:

“Let me.”

Merlin tenses only slightly before he fully relaxes, and the two men move to sit cross-legged, facing each other. Mordred dips the cloth he bought in the stream, and carefully wipes the blood from Merlin’s hands and arms. The Warlock sits absolutely still, and Mordred can tell that he isn’t really... present. He tilts Merlin’s head up, and his eyes seem to come into focus slightly as the Druid cleans away the blood on Merlin’s cheek and temple.

Mordred puts the cloth to the side, picking up a spare tunic and offering it to the other man:

“I thought you’d like to change.”

Merlin looks down to the offered fabric, and it takes him a few moments to process what Mordred had said before he nods slowly, and takes the tunic. He stands on wobbly legs, and Mordred quickly follows him, steadying him with a hand on his shoulder.

Mordred looks away as Merlin changes. It wasn’t that he really cared, but Merlin was usually incredibly careful to hide his scars from people, (though everyone was aware that they existed, having caught glimpses here and there) but he was far too out of it to realise what he’d done. Mordred refused to take advantage of Merlin’s shock just to satiate his own curiosity about the marks marring his mentor’s skin.

He looks back to see Merlin just stood there blankly, bloody tunic dumped on the floor and hands still shaking slightly. Mordred sighs, he’s been warned about this, but he’s never seen it this bad before; it would seem that the last few hours had finally caught up to Merlin. The Druid takes a few careful steps forward, gently laying his hands on Merlin’s shoulders as he speaks to him in his mind:

“Merlin? You with me?”

His body doesn’t move at all, but Mordred can see his jaw twitch as he gets-

“I’m... I’m with you.”

-from the link. He sighs again, pulling Merlin into a hug; one hand running through the other man’s hair, the other hand firmly in the centre of his back, acting as an anchor, trying to keep Merlin in the here and now. It takes a few moments, but Merlin returns the hug eventually, burying his face in the crook of Mordred’s neck, and holding him tightly round the middle, breathing deeply.

Merlin takes a deep breath as he feels Mordred’s magic probing him for injuries and soothing his headache and exhaustion. In all the rush of Percival almost dying, Merlin hadn’t checked in with himself, and is surprised when Mordred finds, and heals, a bruised rib, and a cut on the back of his leg. Mordred doesn’t have nearly enough energy to be of any help to Percival, but he can heal Merlin’s aches and pains.

Merlin pulls back from the hug, giving Mordred a brief, teary smile before he croaks out:

“I need to go back to Perci-”

He’s cut off by Mordred harshly shaking his head and placing a hand on the side of Merlin’s neck:

“No, you’re exhausted Merlin, you need sleep. Arthur and Elyan are looking after Percival, but you and Leon both need at least a few hours of rest.-”

Merlin looks annoyed, like he wants to argue but is too tired to come up with a retort, and Mordred continues:

“-I promise, I will wake you up if anyone needs anything, but you’re of no use to Percival exhausted. Merlin, you’re about to keel over, and you don’t have any magic reserves left, I’ve given you a little of mine to start you off, but you need sleep.”

Merlin looks at him, his gaze assessing, though sleepy. He gulps, sagging slightly as he whispers:

“You promise you’ll wake me?”

Mordred gives him a weak smile:

“I promise.”

With that, Mordred picks up the bloodied cloth and tunic, tucking them under one arm as he pulls Merlin’s arm over his shoulder, semi-dragging the Warlock back to camp. He lays him down next to Leon, and the knight, in his sleep, reaches out and pulls him close.

Mordred lays another blanket over the two of them, before traipsing over to sit with Lancelot and Gwaine, where he finally lets his tears fall.

+1)

If Merlin knew how ridiculously they’d act, he would have hidden his injury and just dealt with it himself.

Unfortunately, Merlin had mistakenly assumed that Camelot’s seven best knights (one of whom was also King), would be able to be a little more composed.

He sat on a large rock, one arm hanging limply at his side, dripping blood onto the floor, as he stared at the knights. Mordred and Percival looked close to tears, Gwaine looked close to vomiting, Leon and Lancelot were just about managing to stay calm (but Merlin could see the panic in their eyes), Elyan was desperately riffling through Merlin’s bag, muttering something along the lines of “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck what the-” , and Arthur was hovering directly in front of Merlin, biting his lip and breathing deeply as he offers reassurances to Merlin.

Merlin is half distracted by the pain, and half trying not to laugh at everyone’s panic. He’d both treated AND had so much worse than an arrow to the shoulder; don’t get him wrong, it was serious-ish, but it did not warrant this level of panic from seven of the Kingdom’s most fearsome warriors.

Elyan finally bustles over, hands full of random medical equipment, at least half of which are definitely not needed right now, but Merlin holds in his chuckle and doesn’t say anything. Arthur turns to the knight, gesturing everyone to gather close as he says, trying to keep the shaking out of his voice:

“Ok, do we take it out? Or do we break off the shaft and leave the head in?? I can’t fucking remember...-”

He trails off, and Merlin rolls his eyes, walking quietly to the remainder of his medical bag, and pulling out what he needs as he sits back on his rock. Gwaine glances back at him, but looks away again quickly as his face goes a little green and he mutters:

“Oh my Gods there’s so much blood.”

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes; there really isn’t that much.

Leon looks to Merlin, and is the first to notice the man calmly sat there, treating his own injury. He lets out a very undignified yelp, stalking over and pulling the bandages and alcohol from Merlin’s hands and giving him a stern look:

“No, absolutely not, you’ve lost too much blood, you’ll make it worse, we’ll do it.”

Merlin rolls his eyes again, and gestures to the panicking group behind Leon incredulously as he says:

“This really isn’t a big deal, you lot are making a fuss out of nothing, I’ve had so much worse; can I have my stuff back now??”

Leon huffs, and Lancelot walks up to stand next to him, a concerned frown on his face:

“No, we’ll do it. Just... just talk us through it? It’s about time we had to stitch you up, I knew we’d need to eventually.”

Merlin stares at him for a few minutes, before sighing and shaking his head:

“Fine. Only you and Leon though, everyone else is too... jittery, for my peace of mind. They’re allowed no where near the arrow, or the needle and thread.”

At that, Gwaine goes even more green, mumbling a a quiet-

“Oh Gods, he needs stitches.”

-as he turns away. Merlin just scoffs slightly, and gestures Leon and Lancelot closer:

“Check the arrow for weakness, if it’s fully intact and feels strong, just yank it out. If it snaps, you’re going to have to dig the head out with a knife.”

Leon pales slightly, but nods, stroking his hand up and down the arrow far to gently to actually be able to tell anything. Merlin rolls his eyes:

“For pities sake-”

With that, he lifts his hand up, and pulls the arrow out in one quick motion, thankfully the head along with it. Gwaine promptly turns around and throws up in a bush, Percival running soft circles over his back distractedly as he stares in disgust at the bloody arrow in Merlin’s hand.

Leon gasps and Lancelot lets out an inhuman screech as he clamps a hand over the wound. Mordred whimpers and Arthur lifts a slow hand to cover his open mouth. Elyan blows a harsh breath out, stumbling back slightly and dropping all the things he had been carrying, much to Merlin’s annoyance.

Lancelot angrily looks to Merlin as Leon’s shaky hands try to thread a needle:

“Why?? Why would you do that Merlin? We have to be careful, we have to... we have to treat it properly.”

Merlin clears his throat, wincing slightly at the pain:

“You were being too careful. Let me put it this way, the longer you take, the more likely I am to get an infection and die a horrible death, all from a very simple, easy to fix wound.”

Merlin can vaguely hear Gwaine vomiting again in the background.

Leon takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as he mutters to himself:

“Just another patient.”

Merlin remembers what he’d said all those months ago on Percival’s almost-deathbed, and rolls his eyes; this was hardly of the same magnitude, but if it helped Leon thread the damn needle, then he wasn’t going to say anything. The First Knight looked up to Lancelot, showing him that it was ready, and Lancelot looks to Merlin:

“What next, we clean it, right?”

Merlin nods amusedly, and gestures to the glass bottle of alcohol that Leon had taken from him, and a clean cloth:

“It’s gonna sting like hell but keep going alright? Wash it out properly, then put pressure on it until the bleeding slows, then stitch it up. You know how to do stitches?”

Lancelot shakes his head, but Arthur steps forward and nods, taking the needle from Leon as he says:

“I do, I’ll do it.”

Merlin takes a deep breath a nods, and with that, Lancelot cleans out the wound. Merlin hisses in pain, clenching his hands tightly as Lancelot mutters apologies and the other knights crowd closer. Leon strokes a soft hand up the Warlock’s back, Arthur has a hand on his (uninjured) shoulder, Mordred was whispering reassurances through the mental link, Elyan stood by with bandages and clean cloths, and Gwaine gave Merlin his best smile, despite still looking a bit sick with Percival at his side, holding him up.

Finally it comes time for stitching, and Lancelot swaps places with The King, Merlin one again rolling his eyes as the blond takes a deep, fortifying breath. He finally starts the stitches, and compared to the alcohol just moments earlier (and the Serket sting, and the Dorocha attack, and the fireball, and the poison, and the and the and the...) it’s a tickle.

Merlin starts making a mental list in his head of all the things he’ll need to replace from his bag next time he gets to the market, which had apparently been the wrong thing to do, because a few minutes later Arthur is slapping him gently on the cheek and calling his name. Merlin turns to look at him incredulously:

“What??”

And Arthur heaves a sigh of relief:

“There you are, we thought we’d lost you.”

“Lost me? It’s an arrow to the shoulder, I’m fine! I was just thinking about all the bloody shopping I’m going to have to do, because you’ve given me at least two extra stitches, and used way too much alcohol and bandages! Honestly.”

Arthur is a little taken aback at Merlin’s outburst, but starts laughing after a few moments of shock, everyone else joining in, slightly hysterically. Merlin looks around at them, bewildered:

“Look, I know I... go into shock or whatever when someone almost dies but this... this is too much. You’re all ridiculous, and next time, I’m treating my damn self.”

Leon finally breaks out of his giggles, ruffling Merlin’s hair slightly:

“We’re just glad you’re ok, Merlin.”

Merlin rolls his eyes fondly, giving the knights a reassuring smile:

“I am ok, I’m absolutely fine. Honestly, seven of Camelot’s finest warriors all hysterically panicking over an arrow to the shoulder. Gods, I hope you know I’m telling Gaius, Morgana, and Gwen about this, and they WILL laugh at you.”

Arthur turns on him quickly, pointing a finger in Merlin’s face as he flushes:

“You absolutely will not.”

Merlin raises an eyebrow, smirking dangerously:

“Try me.”

THE END!!

Ok so this one was one of my favourite prompts ever and I’m so grateful @semideadpanda sent it in, so thank you!!

If anyone wants to extend this or write it out properly, then go for it!!

Check out This List of things I’m working on, it will likely be #15 next! :)

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